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Lorson'll be glad to hear the Canon Library has audiobooks, too. Well, drat, now that's two of your characters I'm worried he'll bear too much resemblance to.

Also, it's probably for the best she doesn't like to read if she's keeping bottles of highly flammable saliva in her RC. And there's a sentence I never thought I'd end up writing.

Surprise? ^^; Yeah, you've probably noticed my self-esteem is nonexistent at best, for similar reasons.

And yay, I can write adult!Neville! Like I said to doc, that one was the hardest part here, so I'm glad it worked well. And I'm glad you liked the prompt. :)

Especially if, as I assume, Leto is interested in retailing Monstrous Nightmare Gel at a frankly obscene markup, which he could get away with since there's only one source in HQ. And hey, maybe Jane would like some for alchemical experiments, too. ^_^

Don't let the minis handle it, though. It's basically napalm.

~Neshomeh

I assume the Canon Library also has those. Gall is literate, but she prefers to hear stories. ... And yeah, the need to return something she borrowed would absolutely slip her mind. I like it. *g*

Thanks!

~Neshomeh

Or Scapefen? Stockscape? Grapescarf?

Either way, it is the most irreverent, self-deprecating ship ever. And might involve a ham sandwich in a corset, I don't even know. *grin*

~Neshomeh

Because it's good. It's well-written, and as doc noted, adult!Neville feels spot-on, which is cool to see.

It's just that I have this nearly visceral negative reaction to what's happening in it. It's partly that I can't imagine having so little self-esteem, and partly that I know crap like this really goes on in the real world, and it's infuriating. It just makes me mad, thinking of all the ways people have to fail a kid to let a situation like this take shape. Argh.

... Which I guess is a compliment? IMO, successful writing is writing that makes people feel things and think about things, which this does. So, in that sense, very well done indeed. {= )

~Neshomeh

Hey, this is cute! I like this.

I know Bleeprin is meant as a joke, but the idea of losing memories always kind of disturbed me, and I've never really felt any need to include Bleep things in my spin-off. I like seeing a story (as it were) that does show some of the practical, negative aspects of using Bleeprin.

Doing it in poem form is cool, and it makes sense for one of the Musée's translators to write in a more artistic, less direct style.

—doctorlit does not
write poetry
because rhyming
is hard

In terms of height and weight, I'm about average for a man. (Maybe a tad chubby if I'm being perfectly honest.) My skin is pretty white, but I don't think people would call me pale. I have short, wavy brown hair and bluish gray eyes. I shave, so I don't have any visible facial hair.

In terms of clothes, I usually wear jeans and a T-shirt with sneakers. If it's cold, I have a black jacket and a brown knit hat. I usually wear glasses.

All that being said, I don't care if you change something or do weird things to me in stories. This is just for people like me who like to have a model to work with.

Hey, ho, it's me, Larf. You can ship me any which way you want, the more stupid the more better.

As to descriptions of myself, I will leave you only with the hint that my Discord profile picture is of a ham sandwich. Make of that what you will.

And I just want to say I love the idea of Gall selling dragon spit to DOGA agents at a considerable profit.

I'm going to imagine she forgot to return a book to the library (and will subsequently bring down the wrath of the librarian on her head). But she and Derik are cute to read together.

Well... Yes. I suppose I'm in. And I also am definitely still a living, breathing person. Definitely. And am not being slowly suffocated by the weight of Life Circumstances. :P

Buuut, anyways. Let's see... For my description: Imagine a human male. There. That is me. I am sure this is all the description anyone could ever ask for. However, if you insist on an alternate one, just imagine a different human (or non-human) male. Because shapeshifting is fun. And who knows, maybe Shipverse!Me can shapeshift anyways.

Let's see... I don't have any particular limits on shipping, and am game for a go with women, although to say that I have a slight preference for men would be an understatement. :P

As for ships... um... I'll get back to you on that. Except... I have one. For now.

Calliope/Thoth, because why not?

Because it concerns me that you felt the need to specify "no bloodplay," I just want to remind everyone that this is meant to be lighthearted, goofy, PG-13-or-lower fun. Anything that would cross that line is off-limits for everyone, 'kay? Thanks.

~Neshomeh

So, yes, I am in and super excited for this. Let's get this description rolling!

I'm around five-foot-eight (not short, dang it) with somewhat-wavy hair to my shoulderblades, which actually stick out a little bit, fun fact. Pretty pale skin, seeing as I never go outside if I can help it, plus eyes that are usually hazel-green, though sometimes they shift to hazel-brown. I have no idea why. Given that I'm about ten pounds under at last check, I can safely say I'm Kind Of A Twig.
As for clothes, jeans, tee, and unseasonally warm coat, plus a pair of purple glasses. It's possibly worth noting that I have no idea why everyone else thinks heels are hard to walk in because three-inch stiletto boots are easy as pie to me, though I do sneakers for everyday shenanigans.
For an alternate appearance, add in cat ears and tail, because being a cat is fun.

As for shipping limitations: no bloodplay, no shipping me with my brother Lore, and for the love of the gods no shipping me with a bloody weather pattern. But fruits and fursuits are totally fine.

And, of course... ships. All the ships. manic grinning I'll have to add those in a bit later, but they are coming, mark my words.

(I'm looking at you, Team Prospit. Be prepared.)

Ship me with anyone or anything. There's no limits for me either.

Regarding my appearance: I'm a short, skinny-looking guy with long, thick, blond hair and a reddish goatee; I also crossdress occasionally, so a dress is as fitting as jeans and a shirt.

In for anything, as always. If for some reason you want an accurate description, there's decent pictures here.

hS

I mean, I don't know why you want to get yourself killed, but clearly you're not pushing the right buttons! Think outside the box, man!

... Not much in the way of actual critique for this one, but I am going to poke you with the Soft Cushion until you break yourself of this "seemingly" habit. In fact, I challenge you to complete your next prompt piece without any adverbs at all. Ditch 'em! Good things will happen. {= D

~Neshomeh

I don't recognize your screen name. Do we know you?

And I have to ask, if you're not interested in the PPC, what on Earth brought you to the PPC Posting Board in the first place?

~Neshomeh

Have one of my own shed feathers and a complimentary kit of Spikes!

Late evening in Response Center 1110. Chance of a new mission coming in: slight but not zero. Opportunities for extracurricular carousing: exhausted. Fellrazer and the minis: fed, watered, and settled into their corners. As for the agents . . .

Derik sat at the console desk, hand-writing their latest mission report. He was a hopelessly slow typist, and he appreciated the luxury of having paper freely available to write on with high-quality ink. Like anyone who had copied records under Master Archivist Arnor and not been kicked out, his handwriting was small and neat, and had become rather pretty with the freedom he now had to flourish.

Gall was cross-legged on the floor, sealing and labeling vials of the latest batch of Monstrous Nightmare Gel collected from Fellrazer. Selling the very useful commodity, which had started out simply as a means to keep the dragon fed without resorting to robbery, had turned into a serious enterprise. Gall had somewhat ingeniously expanded it by expanding her dragon at every opportunity, courtesy of the collar that normally kept him shrunk down to large-dog-size instead of large-horse-size: it worked in reverse, too. The bigger the dragon, the greater the volume of flammable saliva produced, the greater the profits. Some people might have questioned the physics of this, but such thoughts never crossed Gall's mind. It worked, because she wanted it to.

She had a habit of humming to herself while she worked, which Derik had grown to tolerate. Her voice wasn't bad, and she could carry a tune when she felt like it, but she often didn't bother with anything like a melody, just meandered aimlessly through pitches for which the notation he'd learned had no signs. He understood there were musical traditions that encouraged this sort of thing; he didn't think Gall's was actually one of them.

She stopped. He looked down at her, eyebrows raised in an inquiry.

She had a quizzical look on her face, her mouth pursed to one side. "Do you ever get the feeling you forgot something, but you can't think what?"

"Sometimes I think I've forgotten more than I ever knew," Derik said. "Why?"

"I've got it now, and it's really annoying."

He turned in his chair to face her more fully. The report would keep. "Well, is it something you were supposed to do?"

She shook her head. "No way. We did the mission; I flew and fed and de-drooled Fellrazer; the minis got their bacon and bouillabaisse; if I polished my mace any more it might blind your other eye; I haven't even worn my armor lately, let alone needed to clean it." She rapped her knuckles impatiently against her thigh as she thought. "Seriously, the hell?"

"Laundry?"

"Your turn this week, dude."

Derik grimaced; it was, and he hated it. "Plans? Anything you should have told me about and haven't?"

"I don't think so." More rapping. "I told you I'm doing the thing with the kids again, right?"

"Yes; I think I expressed my feeling that I still can't believe they let you."

Gall grinned. "Hey, Fellrazer and me are totally ambassadors for our universe. It's educational."

"And obscenely dangerous."

"Whaaat? We strap them on, so the worst that can happen to them is they puke, which is totally outside my control. Not my fault if they keep shouting 'do a barrel-roll!' and he's so well-trained he just reacts like a pro." She snickered, and Fellrazer, having lifted his head at the sound of his name, joined in with the odd hollow chortling noise that was the Nightmare's laughter.

Derik's jaw dropped open a moment. "That's not what I was talking about—but good grief, tell me that did not really happen."

Gall's grin got wider. "Hey, don't worry! We have DOGA agents on standby for when we do the flame jacket demo."

"Self-admitted pyromaniacs. This does not inspire me with confidence. And you didn't answer me."

"If you're so concerned, you should come next time," Gall said, leaning back on her elbows. She managed to do this with her legs still crossed, which made for an unusual view. "You could do the whole boring health and safety thing, and then our butts would be covered and we could get on with the important part: having fun."

"I'm busy, and no, I will not be your liability waiver."

"Aw, come on, you gotta take a break from your boyfriend sometime." Gall used her most ingratiating tone, which was both transparently insincere and irritating. "Have I mentioned lately that that bullshit is bullshit?"

Derik grinned. He was going to win this game. "What, the part where you're jealous? Would it help if I gave you all the sordid details of what we get up to, locked away together in that exceedingly tiny response center for hours on end?"

"Ugh. You suck—no pun, because that would be interesting and you are so boring and lame." Gall flopped all the way down onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. "What were we even talking about?"

Chuckling to himself, Derik shrugged and turned back to his report. "I forget."

---

I tried to get Gall to talk to me and give me something to work with here, because I really need to develop her more, but she wasn't cooperating. So I took having no idea what she might have been forgetting and ran with it, and this is what happened. {= P

~Neshomeh

I don’t really think I belong here, it seems that most of the things I do here either aren’t noticed or more often shunted to talking about the PPC. And honestly, the series is something I’m not interested in, it dragged me out after the 5th lord of the rings story. And the fact that I can’t even stay updated on current events make me feel even worse.

A'right. 18 year old white male with some stubble,shortish brown hair, brown eyes with a hint of grey to em. Tall, somewhat stocky. Red scar on back of left hand. Wears glasses with rectangular lenses. Favors khaki cargo pants and t-shirts, occasionally a grey polo shirt if I feel like being more formal. Male pronouns, heterosexual as far as I know, though I don't mind strictly platonic cuddling with others regardless of gender. Assuming I know them well enough.
Don't ship me with Thoth, or Horvat, or Avarice please. And if you want an alternate appearance/avatar to represent me, just use a generic mail-armored dwarf with axe and shield. Or a Dark Angels Company Master from 40k. That's all I think. Have fun?

For a description: Picture a bear. Now take away reason and accountability.

-Phobos