The PPC Posting Board - Latest posts

Given that I'm pretty sure I counted out over 100 characters in my collection a couple of years back, you'll have to forgive me not providing a complete list. :)

... wait, no, actually I can. Though it may not be complete any more; most of DAS aren't listed.

hS

Yeah, I figured it'd happen sooner or later. Talia got a double too. Just... fantastic.

I got this name from my IRC handle. Just stuck, for some reason. Sure, it's stupid, but every other nickname I got was worse.

((This is more or less how I got Thoth as a nick.

...It occurs to me that Dagger's name may have been unconsciously inspired by someone's username on another website. That person is nothing like him.))

When did you become an engineer? Why didn't you tell me?! We could have transferred together! No, better idea - we could have gotten the El to include engineering in our responsibilities!

Are you still going to be helping out with the Sprouts? I need my Blossom, and the kiddies will be so upset if you leave! Especially now that you're... male?

And a dragon... something?

Wait.

Wait wait wait.

DAG-GER! C'MERE! YOU'VE GOT A NAME TWIN!

Tiger waited until he had reached the very top of the roof before he looked down. The view was certainly spectacular and the weather was lovely: a bright blue cloudless sky and a cool breeze blowing gently across the rooftop.

Last week this would have been the last place he’d expected to be, but things had changed an awful lot. As wonderful as the view was, there was only one place he wanted to be, and that was the one that he’d been foolish enough to leave.

There was no way he could go back now, not now he’d completely ruined everything. At least she was still alive: that was the one good thing.

He was on the rooftop because of the Division One initiation – each of them had to do a dare. Most of the time it was quite easy, but his had been particularly hard, mainly because his sister had been the one setting it.

She had been able to justify herself by saying most of the people joining were younger and less experienced than him and he needed to do something harder. But he knew that wasn’t the real reason.

He had been made to climb all the way to the top, despite his protests that he was scared of heights. He felt a little vertigo now as he looked down, but there were a good few metres between him and the drop.

Not far below him, what he had thought was just another bit of roof swung up and his sister’s head poked out of the gap.

“How did you get up there?” he asked, annoyed.

“Stairs,” Holly said, glaring at him.

“Oh, of course! Can I come down that way?”

“No.” And with that, Holly ducked back in and slammed the hatch shut.

Sighing, Tiger began the long climb down again.



Note: This is from the same universe as my last prompt.

Of which I have... far, far too many to list here. Any of my characters are available for mailing - if they live outside HQ, we'll send a fire lizard, and if they live in the future, hey, same thing!

hS

But really, though, this was great. I could visualize things smoothly as I read along, which is always a good sign. ^^

Ninetwo: Frankly, ummm, this strikes me as deeply offensive - not just to our employers, who have spent much time, and effort, and, um, time, into creating as ideal of a work environment as they can, but to us employees - us, who place our trust, our hopes and dreams on the backs of our great leaders in the Janitorial Division management! To denigrate them would be to, by extension, denigrate us, and I refuse to do that!

Finch: 'It-s a justice we really bloody ought to have and, because of that fact, we never will ever have it. All these gits are whinging about "not being fired" and "job security" and "milking any form of miniscule payment out to survive to next week". You think you-ve it rough? Every day, all day, I-m out here dying, but that never strikes them, does it?!

Bingle: 'Oh, well, I suppose it could be a fun day out, couldn't it?'

Anne: 'We tried that once in the early days. I don't think there's many people left in JD who'll remember it. Everybody went on strike. It dissolved pretty fast when we realised we all lived in here, and that all the falling infrastructure and angry goops and gases would be going after us, too. I don't think I care so much about my own rights, anyway.'

Anne's Cat (written by Anne): 'My cat scratched out the word "union" and then ate the whole letter. Now she's spitting up shards of it into the rubbish bin. She hates all kinds of rights, especially human ones. I think she would be inherently against this.'

“Why the hell did he choose the third floor?” Creed complained. “It's an abandoned office building, surrounded by nothing but fragging abandoned office buildings. Couldn't he hold the meeting on the ground floor?”
Blades ignored the stocky rigger. The stairs didn't particularly bother him anyway.
“Maybe you should ask Schmidt for compensation,” Scathach suggested with a grin.
“For the record, that was sarcasm. If you actually try that, I'll personally kick you out the window,” Dragonfly said, and glared at them. “Anyway, we're here now, so if all of you could act professionally, please?”
She opened the door. Inside, Herr Schmidt was already waiting.
“You're late,” the Johnson said, looking at his watch. “I hope you at least have the package.”
“Took us more than enough to get it,” Dragonfly grumbled, but handed the device over to him. “I prefer to know beforehand if a run is going to land us in a Zero Zone.”
“You'll get your reward soon enough,” Schmidt said, taking a closer look.

Then everything happened at once. The Johnson blinked, and turned his back to the large window that took up one of the walls. A fraction of a second later the window exploded into a hail of shards. Schmidt straightened back up, decked Dragonfly in the face, and lunged out of the window.
Blades started moving before Dragonfly finished shouting “Get him!” from where she was lying on the floor. The Johnson had jumped six metres across an alley, and through a missing window into a neighbouring office building.
Blades grinned. The magic was flowing through his veins, strengthening his limbs, carrying his body. He drew his sword from its sheath as he started running. Six metres was almost nothing to him. He pushed himself off from the edge, sailed through the air... and realized with a start that his trajectory was off. He just had time to spit out a curse before crashing into the plastcrete half a metre to the left of his target.
His fingers grasped uselessly after some kind of ledge or windowsill as gravity made itself known and he started falling towards the pavement. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs and bruised his ribs. He silently thanked both his armour and his magic for lessening the impact and preventing serious injuries. He rolled onto his knees while gasping for breath. Despite his helmet the impact had made him dizzy, but he focused on his sword, which was lying a few metres away from him. Finally managing to draw a breath, he pushed himself to his feet, grabbed his sword and made his way to the door of the building he'd intended to jump into. He drew another deep breath, opened the door and started running up stairs as fast as he could.

In the end, it had turned out he needn't have hurried. They had found the Johnson cornered by one of Creed's drones and had managed to get a good amount of money out of him.
Scathach alternated between rewatching a video of Blade's chase attempt and looking at him as Creed took a look at his bruises.
“You know, I think I've got a good name for you,” she said. “The way you flew through the air like nothing could ever happen to you right before crashing gloriously gave me an idea.”
“You're still going on about the name thing? Can't you give me some rest?” He asked.
“For the last time, calling yourself 'Blades' makes you sound like an edgy 14-year-old. You need a proper nickname.”
Blades sighed, “What are you thinking about?”
“Icarus.”

What're some of the strangest things about/in HQ, technologically or culturally, compared to where you lived before?

... Thoth returning to his RC to find Tom snoring in some awkward position under a blanket and Gall still sitting on the floor playing games in the debris of empty bottles and snack wrappers. "Oh, hey, Jötun." Picture of innocence.

Yes, will play video games sometimes, but gaming isn't in my soul. Especially not games where coordination and speed are serious factors. ... Unless it's Guitar Hero. I like that. Never past medium difficulty, though. I only got four fingers, I only wanna deal with four buttons. {= P

What're some of your hobbies?

What're your thoughts on starting a Janitors' Union?

Can you confirm or deny that the Disturbing Acts of Violence Department is trying to take over the PPC?

Ayy ya bois in the Janitorial Division's Shift Twentieth are all up for mail for whatever despicable secrets you want them to spill.

• S86FNC-11630, A.K.A. Finch. Sapient vending machine trapped in a perpetual cycle of fury and paranoia, angry at things he is afraid of, which is practically everything.

• Bernhard Bingard Bingle. Dead wizard held together with obscure magic, all that genius of his gummed up with a centuries' worth of senility and forgetfulness.

• Anne. Ineffably stoic and one of the craziest people in the JD, purely because she has remained so totally sane in her time there.

• Weed Ninety-Two, A.K.A. Ninetwo. Bureacratic rules lawyer who has memorised every single employee rule and guidebook and will be sure to quote them at you when she can.

• Anne's Cat. Scientifically enhanced cat who is smart enough to have developed complete, well thought-out misanthropy but who cannot write letters back or talk. Anne will write back for her, I guess.

We already tried the grey goo. In a day they ate Bingle's arm and then unionised and mutinied on us.

That whole week was Hell. But a clean Hell.

Is it true that you've been building up an army of magically-modified plants to overthrow the Flowers in glorious rebellion? Are there really ten-foot tall Venus flytraps meant to consume all Flower sympathizers? Has your partner been helping you with your experiments? Did you plant your failures in the Cafeteria, and that's why all the chefs are disappearing, or did you throw them into FicPsych to make all the therapy minis leave you alone during your appointments with Doctor Freedenberg?

The Console's infernal howling aside, most of my furniture is presently four dimensional spaces away. Not exactly out of my reach, but I somewhat doubt the Flowers would accept me taking time off to retrieve my favorite armchair.

I cannot say I have any recommendations in this reality, but if you are willing to traverse planar boundaries, I know a lovely little shop in my home continuum. Run by a family of halflings, been in the business for twelve generations. Lovely people.

Tom is an absolute lightweight.

-Thoth, noting that nobody who plays Skyrim can claim they're "not a gamer".

I said Dagger was a Dragonborn. That's probably what made you think Skyrim.

...see, the thing is, Dagger is a D&D Dragonborn. Entirely different thing.

I probably should've clarified.

in a different time, if I'd had more guts way back in 2014, I would have written up Permission based on AU versions of these two.)