The PPC Posting Board - Latest posts

(Ah, your guide explains a lot, hS. }:P
Here’s mine.)

How to Be More Twistey (not recommended at all):

PPC:
-Post on the Board as frequently as possible! Maybe even reply to stuff that you don't need to reply to!
-Try to hide your PPC activity from your local powers that be and delete your history of the Board and Wiki. Act all paranoid whenever they get suspicious.
-Be one of only a small number of people who edits the Plort Wiki outside of Plort "season". Add a ton of new stuff to it that nobody agreed to but you're doing it anyway and just letting them refine it because you trust them.
-Make lots of PPC memes using Walfas and Makemegoogly.com (because you don't have an Imgur account or anything and hS loves the googly eyes.)
-Spend the time between Badfic Games “seasons” planning out what you're going to write next year and overthink the new fake alter-ego.
-Realize that that nightmarish thing you thought up probably shouldn't be in the Badfic Games and is in fact worse than C-brian.
-Be unconventional: censor things with hyphens. Like C-brian.
-Mock-argue/duel/etc with hS whenever possible because the two of you had a slight scuffle in the past and reconciled and you're using it as an opportunity to create a running joke.
-Have way too many agent ideas for the fact that you don’t have Permission yet. (Gerb derbit!)
-Only thoroughly double check your username to make sure you don't have a mini. Double check the rest, but more skimming-like.
-When you have a question answered, say "Okay, thanks" or something like that in the subject and then ask another question in the post so that nobody reads it and answers. (Sigh.)
-Try to recruit your friends. Fail.
-Wonder too much about how you'd look as a Mary Sue. Worry that you'd be blonde.

Writing/etc:
-Have a long list of personal tropes. Use them in the beginning but then start cutting them out as you revise.
-Write too many stories that are either about a hopefully-no-longer-a-self-insert defeating her personal demons or are angry subversions of your fantasy-obsessed, romance-obsessed, blonde-obsessed (but not in a bad way) childhood friend's writing tropes. (Sigh)
-When reviewing, review nicely. When mocking, mock so aggressively that you probably need to take a step back because you’re pushing the boundaries of PPC protocol.
-When creating games, have an addiction to making boss fights.
-Have an addiction to making secrets.
-Have an addiction to making secret boss fights.
-Value function over form, but design your characters before you write them.
-Have too many unfinished Sibelius scores.
-Have too many unfinished stories.
-Have too many unfinished anything that actually takes a considerable amount of time and effort!
-Harp on the seriousness of copyright and the importance of royalty-free content.
-Have too many ideas of things to put on your Newgrounds account and your YouTube channel before you even have either one of them.
-Still be happy that you're closer to having both than you've ever been. :)

Internet:
-Visit RationalWiki as much as possible and use it as the ultimate resource for weird beliefs on both the left and right sides of the political spectrum.
-When you're bored, go to Google Images and surf! After all, that's how you found the PPC! What could go wrong?! (Dun dun dun!)
-Curiosity has blown up in your face many times. Make it happen again.
-Have too many bookmarks (until you switched to Chrome and your bookmarks from Firefox all got deleted).
-Go to Incompetech and listen to royalty-free music more than you go to any other music site.
-Have a hobby of mentally MSTing dress-up games meant for young girls that gradually developed into an addiction and a need to tell some of your friends to stop implying that Barbie's Aura of Smooth is turning you lesbian/bisexual/queer.

Gaming (mostly Wolf 3D):
-Don't strategize. Just run up to the boss and shoot at it until it's dead.
-In the case you can't, try to get your dad's help and stop trying to beat the boss when he can't figure out the controls. (True story.)
-Game out loud, like Markiplier except less over-the-top.
-Run from a scary enemy that you’re actually going to win against if you use the above “strategy”, because it’s scary. (Also a true story.)
-Talk to the paintings and comment on every Suspiciously Shaped Room you walk into.
-Be really good at Fruit Ninja because you played it so much earlier in life, but then wonder why you aren’t still good at pinball by the same logic.

Music Is Life:
-Practice your instrument whenever possible. Feel guilty when you can’t.
-Mentally squee whenever you hear your instrument in a song (because mine is bassoon and that doesn’t show up audibly all that often.)
-Complain about people who don’t care enough about band to actually practice and behave in class.
-When your family is watching a football game, only care about the marching band and the cheese dip.
-Be glad that band jokes are one of the few things you can search up on Google Images that doesn't put you in danger of Seeing An Old Familiar Face. (Dun dun dun again!)

Life:
-React in a negative way to making any sort of mistake, ranging from cringing and dwelling on it for months to completely freaking out and dwelling on it for decades.
-Exaggerate your nope/ahh moments by running from the person/hiding under the table/looking like you've been completely shell-shocked (and you have.)
-Be confused when people still like you a lot even after you did something stupid. Write it off as charisma. Suddenly realize that charisma =/= good person, with A Particular Example in mind. (Dun dun dun again again!) Freak out in your head and literally get an itchy upper lip.
-On a similar note, make as many references/comparisons/invocations of said example without calling him by name. If necessary, use euphemisms. (Sigh)
-Have the following reactions to said example and his followers: anger, fear, morbid fascination, WTFork, and more fear. More fear/fascination and less anger the higher up you go on the chain of command from those Neo idiots all the way up to the example himself. More WTFork the more occult it gets.
-Make jokes about people who talk about the example too much or too favorably in the company of hS being destined to be hit with a frying pan.
-Realize that you yourself fall under that category at this moment. Duck even though hS is nowhere near you IRL.
-Be proud of your brunetteness, flat-chested-ness, and lack of interest in getting contacts. Because your appearance is the one thing you don't ever worry about.
-Realize that this post is probably too long. Do nothing about it, in fact, make it longer over the course of your edits to it.

-Sign your posts with "-[name here]." In my case, that's "-Twistey".

It says "how is my robot driving?"

The double proposal at the same time is just—augh, my heart.

(We've been missing you, dude.)

...fussing over details, doing, undoing, and redoing her work until she was satisfied. Sonia put down her hairbrush and examined her reflection. Her long brown hair, normally tied up in a messy bun, was braided to perfection and fell over her left shoulder. Her riding tunic was impeccably clean and her armour had been polished to a mirror shine. Her riding boots were also waxed to perfection— polished to the point where she could almost see her reflection in them. She then applied a tiny bit of perfume to her neck and sat up straighter.

She looked as if she had just stepped out of a royal family portrait. Perfect.

The Pegasus Knight then grabbed the little velvet case resting on her vanity and gently opened it. A beautiful silver ring glinted back at her in the soft light of her bedroom. She and Harris had been seeing each other for years, now. They had grown closer with every passing day despite being somewhat hostile to each other the first time they had met. She grew to know him... like him... and love him. Oh, she could go on and on about him: enthusiastic, charming, gentle, well-spoken, polite— if spectacularly maladroit at times. He had opened up to her and she to him; Sonia could not imagine a day without seeing him now.

She stood up, pocketed the case, and took a deep breath. Gods, this was difficult. She knew his answer already— so why was this so nerve-wracking...?

Sonia had barely stepped into the RC’s living room when Harris burst through the door and skid to a halt when he saw her.

“Harris?”

“I, uh.” He did a very poor job at concealing the wooden box he was holding. “S-Sonia! I didn’t expect to see you, uh. Here. Now.”

“In our RC?”

“Uh...” He swallowed nervously. “Y-you look beautiful, Sonia... um... are we planning something tonight?”

It was the Pegasus Knight’s turn to gulp nervously. “I... wanted to discuss something extremely important.” She noticed his hands tighten around the box he was carrying. Could it be...? Regardless. She had practiced for this moment. Sonia approached Harris and took out the velvet case. “Harris Frost,” she said slowly as to keep the shaking out of her voice, “I have been at your side for well over six years now... and you, at mine. We’re already close— and I would like to make us closer.” She slowly bent down to one knee and presented the case to Harris, fighting back the sudden urge to run away. “Will you marry me?”

There. It was done.

“I— I was...” Harris also got to his knees and brusquely opened his box. A gold ring slipped out and clattered to the floor. “I was going to propose too...” he said hastily, quickly snatching up the ring before it could roll away. He held up the ring, offering it to her. “Sonia, yes. With all my heart, yes. I— I made you this ring... like, all by myself... Will you...?”

“Harris, I...” Sonia stared at the ring, then at Harris’ earnest face. “Yes.”

She threw her arms around him and pulled him close.

---

(Just de-lurking for a moment to post a response. I couldn't resist.

Laters!)

Not really much else to say! It was a fun piece that showed how well these two get along as partners.

T'Zar's reaction to the first 'proposal' was awesome. Where's the Kudos button when you need it?

Dawn woke up slowly. She was warm, at first, but then the aches set in: her head, her shoulder, both her knees, even one of her hands--she wasn't sure how it had happened, but she wanted the warmth back. Groaning, she curled up--ouch, no, why--and tried to fall back asleep.

"You're awake," observed a familiar voice. Dawn groaned again and pulled the covers over her head--which left her calves exposed to the chill in the air. What? "Good. We should leave soon."

"Why're my blankets short?" Dawn asked. She didn't care that it came out slurred; she wasn't about to put more effort into moving her jaw than was absolutely necessary. No way. "M'cold."

"They are shock blankets from the USS Enterprise," T'Zar replied. Her voice went just the tiniest bit dry as she continued, "You cut them in half last month to make a poncho."

Dawn remembered that. It was the warmest poncho she'd ever had. Completely worth it, apart from how cold her feet were getting.

There was no way she was getting back to sleep now. Dawn turned onto her back, redistributing the (very, very orange) blanket and trying to convince herself to sit up.

Mission. They were on a mission. It wasn't even on an ice planet, despite the chill, but Dawn could remember falling the day before, rolling--

She grimaced and sat up, tucking the blanket around her. "You did pretty much everything to set us up yesterday, didn't you? Camp, and that? The blanket?"

"Yes," replied T'Zar, and Dawn remembered T'Zar supporting her down the hills, setting up a makeshift camp without complaint, convincing Dawn (pretty easily) to lie down in the middle of it, even wrapping the blanket around her and--to Dawn's great amusement--using a phaser to heat up rocks for further warmth. Nothing like an actual TOS Vulcan mimicking Sulu's TOS moves to bring back Dawn's thoughts of how awesome this partnership was, even five months in.

Now T'Zar held out a cup. "Hot tea," she explained, and waited patiently for Dawn to untangle a hand so she could take it. "There is also oatmeal and pancakes, and I succeeded in finding the honey jar you believed lost."

Dawn rested the camping mug against her knee and stared at T'Zar, only looking away to spot the pancakes--apparently reheated from the stock Dawn had made...was it only two days ago? Was it even two days ago?--and the oatmeal, still dry in the jar.

"Marry me," she said fervently. Well, she thought it was going to be fervently, inasmuch as she'd thought about it at all before she'd said it; in practice, she sounded tired and a little plaintive. Also a bit hoarse--well, she'd talked a lot yesterday.

The Vulcan froze, more obviously startled than Dawn had seen before, and then one of her eyebrows ticked up. "I...had not thought you interested. Moreover, you are not a Vulcan; while Vulcan-alien marriages have occurred, they remain extremely rare--"

"Whoa, hey, whoa." Dawn reluctantly freed her other hand to rub at her eyes. "Slow down. A lot."

T'Zar closed her mouth, but her gaze remained intense.

"I'm, I'm not, I mean--" Dawn took a breath, inhaling steam from her tea--hm, rosehip--and let it out slowly, trying to gather her thoughts. "It's...it's an expression. The way I used it. I don't actually say it much, but--it really is an expression."

"Explain."

"Uh--" Dawn frowned, cupping her hands around the mug in an attempt to keep them warm. "It's...like, when someone's really grateful, or they've been surprised with something good? So they say 'marry me' as kind of...kind of like saying 'I think you're really, really amazing right now'? Something like that. I don't normally say it, but I've been seeing it around, so...And, I mean, you're really awesome right now. So. But I'm not actually looking to get married right now, and I'd definitely want some dating first. A lot of dating. Serious dating." Dawn caught up to her words and made a face. "I'm just going to...stop talking about this now, okay? Except to add that I'm actually only sixteen, which for my time period and culture is way too young to get married. Really."

"...ah." T'Zar considered it, then nodded. "I...appreciate your presence as well. Drink your tea," she added when the human only gaped at her. "We must leave within the next thirty-four minutes."

"Uh-huh," Dawn said intelligently, and began convincing her arms to lift.

*

Six years later, T'Zar redirected her obnoxiously energetic current partner out the door of the RC with the reminder of some task to be done, and turned back in time to see her former partner sit down heavily with a sigh of relief.

"Marry me," the human said once she had let her head loll back against the couch.

T'Zar raised an eyebrow, mostly for effect. "I appreciate the sentiment, Dawn, as I did the other four times you asked, but I am disinclined to acquiesce to your request at this juncture."

Dawn raised her head again, startled delight spreading across her face; then, she burst into laughter that didn't stop until she was out of breath.

"Never change," she told T'Zar once she could speak again. "You're amazing."

It was probably illogical to feel so pleased over causing such a large outburst of emotion; even so, T'Zar didn't prevent the slight uptick of the corners of her mouth.

Life among humans was rife with illogic, but after a decade in the PPC, T'Zar had almost grown accustomed. Visible hints of emotion seemed a small price to pay to ease relationships and prevent large displays of negative emotions.

It was only logical.




---
(Unedited, unbetaed, finished very late in the day, but hopefully a fun read! ~Z)

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Right now the attorney generals of Washington State and New York State are seeking an injunction given that a huge number of the comments in favor of dropping Net Neutrality were filed using stolen identities.

The FCC is refusing to co-operate so far with the investigation, or produce their server logs to back up the claims that they suffered a denial-of-service attack, rather than just pulled the plug to prevent people from telling them what they didn't want to hear after John Oliver's "Last Week Tonight" show brought attention to the issue and created an easy way to contact the FCC on the issue directly last time this came up. I am a strong proponent of "presume innocent until proven guilty" and an individual's right to privacy. But a government that wants to claim its legitimacy comes from the will of its citizens can't claim that legitimacy if its people don't know what their government is doing.

I'm always in Tinfoil hat mode, but I wouldn't be surprised if Comcast and Verizon didn't just use their customers' billing addresses to file those fraudulent comments on their behalf, since they collect that information when people pay their bills or sign up for broadband.

It wouldn't be the first time a big company has stooped to petty sockpuppeting [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/AshleyMadisondatabreach#Dataanalysis] to mislead and defraud their customers or the public at large.
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"You dolt! Stop your dithering and just say it!"

Elanor's... tricky for me. Where do I find the right balance of cute and realistic? I'll find it somehow. :P

Awww...

It took me a moment to figure out this was the next Aviator, which was why the pronouns had changed.

Elanor is cute.

I like that the TARDIS is encouraging Ave here.

I wonder how this'll play out.

- Tomash

Thanks!

- Tomash

I thought the proposal seemed weirdly sudden—I loved how you made it the result of a translation error!

I only noticed one error—"Neither of them had been were happy" in the first paragraph.

((So I took some liberties with this. Sue me, it's what popped into my head. Concrit is appreciated!))

The Aviator paced in circles around his TARDIS' controls, goggles dangling from his left hand. In his right, he held a piece of paper covered in sprawling Circular Gallifreyan, scrawled hastily and crossed out many times.

"I've known you for ten years now," he muttered, running his fingers through his hair. "And I know that's not very long, but we've been through a lot together and I think it's time we... Urk." He balled the paper up and threw it across the room, where it landed in a pile among other crumpled sheets.

"Mum?" Elanor poked her head around the corner. "Everything alright?"

The Aviator looked up and gave his daughter a tired smile. "Everything's fine, kiddo," he said, leaning against the navigation panel.

The TARDIS hummed, and the Aviator's ears reddened. "That's perfectly fine!" he snapped.

Elanor laughed and came over to slip her hand into his. "Doesn't sound fine to me," she said. "But, um, why're you so worried about planning a surprise for the Detective? I thought you two were..." She trailed off and gestured vaguely.

"It's not just any surprise, Elanor." The Aviator reached into his pocket and produced a small box.

Elanor's mouth fell open and she looked up at the Aviator, eyes wide. "YOU'RE GONNA ASK HIM TO—"

"Shh!" the Aviator hissed, looking around frantically for signs of Zeb. The last thing he wanted was for his partner to overhear and spoil everything.

"I'm gonna get a dad?!" Elanor whispered, beginning to bounce in place.

"Maybe, Ellie, maybe," the Aviator said. "The Detective is... well. You know what he's like."

"But he loves you," Elanor said, folding her arms. "And you love him. Right?"

The Aviator looked up at the ceiling, as if searching for the right words written among the tangle of cables. "I mean—"

"Right?" Elanor repeated.

"Right," the Aviator said, "but it's not that simple. Life's not a fairy tale where as long as you're in love, everything will be okay. Both people have to be compatible, both have to want the same things out of life, and... while Dee's talked about the possibility of us making it official, he's been hurt in the past. We both have."

Elanor pulled away to sit on the chair facing the navigation panel, putting her feet up on the Aviator's knees. "Well, why not just ask him?" she said. "Not like you haven't talked about it before, right?"

The Aviator crossed his arms uncomfortably. "Elanor, I appreciate you trying to help, but this is something I have to figure out for myself, alright?"

Elanor's face fell, but she nodded. "Alright," she said, getting up and trudging to the door. She looked back before she left. "Promise I won't tell Uncle Zeb," she said with a faint smile.

"Thanks, kiddo," the Aviator said, blowing her a kiss. Once she'd shut the door, he let out a long string of swears, collapsing in her recently-vacated seat.

He pulled the box out of his pocket and opened it, staring glumly at the simple gold band.

The TARDIS hummed again.

"I know he does, baby," the Aviator sighed, lightly touching the ring. "I just gotta work up the courage first."

And the sentences it forms aren't the most coherent (like yours except worse), so do you have length suggestions?

-Twistey

(I love sparring with hS. It's fun.)

*dons BJ Blazkowicz cosplay and grabs a Nerf gun* Haha! Let's go!
*...has second thoughts*
*dons decoy cosplay (except a couple risky accessories, of course) and grabs a flamethrower* Haha! This'll be amazing against snow!
*runs off to fight*

-Twistey

((Probably not canon. Who knows if I'll ever do anything with these characters? Thank you to Caliope for betaing.))

Farah Tahar and Kk'kttak arrived in their new RC within a few minutes of each other. Neither of them had been were happy about this turn of events, as could be seen from the near-growled "You" they'd greeted each other with. Fortunately, Farah had figured out that she could separate the bed and found the second set of bedding before Kk'kttak had arrived, which averted the possibility of having to sleep anywhere near him.

The newly-minted agents spent the next few hours wandering in and out of the RC, getting books, food, weapons, and anything else that might come in handy that they hadn't picked up in their month or so in Headquarters. They rather carefully stuck to a near-nonverbally arranged split of the RC and its storage space (Farah got the half nearest the door). After they'd finished their shopping, Farah and Kk'kttak both settled in and started reading. Farah was making sure to face away from Kk'kttak, ignoring him aggressively. Kk'kttak followed suit for a while, since he didn't want to start anything, even though he thought Farah was being insane.

About two books later, it was rather obvious Farah wasn't going to make the first move here, so Kk'kttak spoke up.

"You. Hani," he said.

Farah turned her head and glared. "Yes, kif?"

"The Flower-princes have given us a duty. I could do without worrying about revenges and status-games. Will you marry me?"

Farah's mouth froze open, and she took a moment to process that. "Did you ask 'Will you marry me'?" she finally asked.

"What? No! I didn't propose ... how would that even work?"

"Rephrase the question." Farah said, and added a muttered "This gods-rotted translator..."

"Would you accept a long-term partnership with me?" Kk'kttak said slowly, making sure of each word.

Farah shook her head. "Not clearer," she commented. "I know some main-kifish. I'll turn the translator off for a moment. Then I'll need both phrasings."

Kk'kttak nodded. "Very well."

"Translator off next two sentences," Farah said at her flashpatch.

She then paid close attention to the series of mainly clicks and taps that came out of Kk'kttak's throat. She recognized the words, except for the important one, the word her translator kept tripping up on. She had, however, encountered the root in the kif term for "central clearing".

The status markers were also not ones she'd ever heard. They seemed derived from "-[to an equal]", but what were those extra clicks for? They usually meant "esteemed", which acted to indicate somewhat higher relative status than usual, but how did that make any sense here?

Then it hit her. That was probably meant to be something like the form of address for a fellow crewmember ... the way the term was understood on, say, hani ships, not kif ones. Maybe he had actually learned something about how other species thought like she’d been told. No wonder the translator had been having fits! Coinages tended to throw even these very advanced ones off, evidently.

After that, she turned to puzzling out what "partnership" might have been. She started pacing back and forth across her side of the room, turning the word and anything reasonably related over in her throat the best she could. A few minutes later, she'd guessed that something like "collaboration" might have been a good translation, and decided to test her theory.

"You," she said to get Kk'kttak's attention.

"Yes?"

"Would two ships agreeing to jointly pirate anyone small who flies by and split the loot be a 'long-term partnership'?"

"Of course."

"So what you want is that we work together and don't try to kill each other or one-up each other to the Flowers?"

"Yes. Mirrad-[learned one] said this was how most agents worked."

Farah hmphed. "Most agents didn't blow up my ship."

"Your ship also destroyed mine."

"Your ship started it, you pirate!" Farah howled, claws shooting out from her fingertips.

"It is our way, and was mine," Kk'kttak said, holding up his empty hands in the traditional gesture of placation.

Farah took a few deep breaths and willed her claws back in. They would, she reminded herself, probably only going to be working together until she explained the situation to the Flowers. She probably shouldn't ruin her chances by getting arrested for beating her new partner to a pulp, no matter how satisfying it would be.

She still wasn't quite sure how to respond to the offer, and so she went with a phrase she'd heard several times from kif comms, including as the closing on the last transmission before Tahar's Ambition was blown to bits a tenth of a light-minute from Meetpoint dock. "I will consider your status," she said slowly, reproducing the sounds of an alien language as well as she could with her different anatomy.

She turned back to her reading, restoring the earlier atmosphere of the RC.

Then, as an afterthought, she looked up. "Tahar out," she added curtly, in hani this time.

It seemed fitting.

(( - Tomash ))

I'm Twistey and I'm new in relation to you, so can you introduce yourself further to me? I'd love to know more about you!

-Twistey (who is not writing very long posts today for some odd reason)

Well, I don't like body horror. Nor do I ship Nathan/Duke. I really would like to, because there aren't exactly other male characters to ship either of them with where I am in the series. I just can't imagine either of them actually getting together. At least, I can't imagine it as of season 1.

So, yeah... I don't think I'll like Roseveare's stuff. However, I did hear that you like Trollhunters. Any good recs for that fandom?

I listen to a whole lot of music. Alternative/indie stuff, mostly; though I do like Taylor Swift. However, I listen to albums as a whole, not individual songs.

Hmm... I think the best album for writing happy stuff is Grace VanderWaal's Just the Beginning. The best angsty pop album is either Pure Heroine by Lorde or Somewhere in Between by Verite, and the best angsty rock album (in my opinion) is Everything this Way by Walking on Cars. The best album for when you just need something catchy but relaxing is definitely Nocturnal by Yuna. And the best all-purpose album is Ingrid Michaelson's It Doesn't Have to Make Sense.

I hope that's helpful!

Fantastic! Thank you :)

~the Z that is sung or something like that