Prologue by /u/littlewhitelotus

“He’s not been himself lately,” one of the women whispered.

“Yeah, there have been no comments, no funny prompts… it’s like he’s just going through the motions…” said another.

“He hasn’t gone through the motions in forever, he doesn’t write at all…”

“You know, he wrote a [Meta] the other day… he has writer’s block. That’s the worst!”

“It’s like he’s... lost the will to DPP!” cried another.

Oh no!!!

“Alright girls…” said one of his old writing partners. “It’s time we took things into our own hands.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is… Blane needs a good dose of Christmas Spirit. He needs a few of us to step in, to remind him what it is he’s missing.”

“You mean… he needs a visit from the Spirits of DPP?”

“Exactly” she nodded. “We’ll get this boy back on the bandwagon. Get your pens out girls. None of this long term complicated roleplay stuff. That’s probably what’s caused his problems in the first place. You know how guys feel about commitment. No. This has to be light, and fun. A blowjob under the restaurant table, a threesome with the gf and her best friend, tie him up and edge him until he can’t take any more. Let’s get these thoughts cracking, it’s only two weeks to Christmas, and I want to see Blane in the DPP spirit by then!”

Chapter One: DPP's Ghost by /u/blanehint

Blane's roleplays were dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate.

Even his public activity had dwindled. His prompt posting slowed, then stopped. The comments became fewer and farther between. Not only that, but the tone had changed. Blane the Welcomer had become Blane the Cynic. No one could remember the last time he had participated in a Meet and Greet.

He spent all of his time sitting in his poorly lit office. A layer of dust coated everything, including him. A pile of ideas lay forgotten in a corner. His computer monitor bathed his face in an artificial glow. On the screen a lonely cursor blinked on and off, the only break in the expanse of blank white page.

With minimal movement he tabbed over to his account. He eyed the delete button, the arrow icon seeming to caress it, but never pressing it. He let out a sigh and removed his hand from the mouse, shoulders slumping as he sank into his seat.

When the door to his office opened and a smartly dressed gentleman entered, he seemed not to take notice. The man cleared his throat, but getting no response began to speak anyway.

"Blane, there are several users who are feeling overwhelmed by DPP. They are being harassed, getting lost in the crowd, confused and... well, they could use a kind word."

"Is there no FAQ?" asked Blane, not looking up at the man.

"There is," he replied, growing wary.

"And the moderators?" demanded Blane. "Are they still in operation?"

"Well yes, and as busy as ever I'm afraid."

"Well then," sneered Blane, finally making eye contact. His eyes were sunken and bloodshot, startling the man. "I have no comfort to give myself, let alone enough to share with others. Tell them to use the methods I mentioned, and leave me alone."

"Many would rather [delete] than..."

"If they would rather [delete]," interrupted Blane, "they had better do it, and decrease the surplus population."

The gentleman was taken aback, his mouth opening and closing but lacking a response.

"Good day sir!" Blane snapped, returning his attention to the monitor in front of him. He didn't even look up to watch the man leave.

Time passed. The hour grew late before Blane removed himself from his chair and dragged himself upstairs to his bed.

As he lay there staring at the ceiling, a strange noise startled him. It was a sound he could only describe as the chattering of voices mixed with fingers tapping on keyboards. Sitting up in the darkness he immediately noticed an ethereal orange glow creeping in under his door. As the sound grew closer, the glow intensified until finally it passed through the door and into his room. A swirling vortex of orange light, words, and phrases floated before him, seeming to pulse with an internal energy.

"What do you want with me?" Blane exclaimed fearfully.

"Much!" a cacophony of voices sounded, both male and female, with accents that spanned the globe.

"Who are you?"

"Ask us who we were."

"Who were you then?" asked Blane, raising his voice in frustration.

"In life we were DPPers who [deleted] for various reasons. Our words and our stories remain, haunting those left behind."

"But why do you visit me? Surely I wasn't responsible for your [deleted] state."

"No, you were not. We come only to give you a warning. You will be visited by Spirits of DPP. Your past partners will come to you as Spirits of DPP Past. Current partners will visit as Spirits of DPP Present. And those who have never written with you, they will visit as Spirits of DPP Yet To Come. Heed them. Change your ways. Or else become one with us."

The pulsing form floated past Blane, through an open window and into the night. As it faded into the darkness the voices echoed, "Learn to keep the spirit of DPP, or join us forever..."

Blane slammed the window shut, checked the lock on the door, and hurried back to bed. The words repeated in his head as he drifted off to sleep, wondering what would happen next.

With apologies to Charles Dickens I apologize for nothing!

If you made it through all of that you deserve a prize!

What I'm looking for here is multiple partners to write multiple parts of the story. I'm thinking short-term (a few days to a week maybe), but long-term rules apply (don't expect an immediate response from me). I wrote this in third-person which is my preference, but 1st is okay if you prefer that.

Guys, I'm not interested in your naughty parts. But, if you have a clever idea that's non-sexual I'd love to hear it.

Lotus, thank you for letting me bounce ideas off of you. <3

Kinks: George C. Scott as Ebenezer Scrooge, spirits, learning lessons, and basically anything that isn't a limit.

Limits: Kelsey Grammer as Ebenezer Scrooge, Ignorance and Want, anything involving children, animals, bathroom stuff, blood, and Tiny Tim.