#NothingToSeeHere

[not-glorfindel-stop-asking]

So Lindir! Have you come to grips with the fact that yours and Eredin’s behavior around each other sounds suspiciously like that of a couple? And that even you thought so when it was described as someone else’s? 😬

Oh, please. This is utter nonsense. I am more than capable of recognizing romantic behavior when I see it, and I can assure you—without a shadow of a doubt—that whatever you perceive between Eredin and me is entirely normal, platonic, and not at all indicative of anything beyond a well-established working relationship between two scribes.

Yes, I do ensure he eats proper meals because he would otherwise survive solely on hot cocoa and sheer willpower.

Yes, I do notice when he is anxious and place his favorite quill near him to soothe him—and, if he is particularly distressed, I will also place a cup of his favorite tea beside it, and perhaps murmur some reassurance, and maybe place a gentle hand on his shoulder. But that is simply efficiency! A calm scribe is a productive scribe!

Yes, I do carry a spare cloak for him in case he forgets his own and it grows cold, and, on one occasion, I may have also draped it over his shoulders myself because he was too distracted writing to notice the chill. And perhaps I pulled it snug around him and murmured, "You’ll catch cold, dearest," but that is just common sense! Nothing unusual about it!

And, fine, I have—on occasion—pressed a hand to his forehead to check for fever because he looked too pale. And perhaps I did also brush his curls aside when doing so, and perhaps I did also frown and tell him, "You worry me," in an uncharacteristically soft tone, but that is merely responsible coworker behavior. A good superior! A caring friend! Nothing more!

And yes, perhaps I once found him asleep at his desk and—out of sheer practicality, mind you—decided to carefully lift him, carry him to a proper bed, and tuck him in because sleeping upright is bad for one's spine! And perhaps I also lingered for a moment to make sure he was comfortable, and perhaps I also brushed a curl from his cheek, and perhaps I whispered, "Sleep well, Eredin," in a tone that one might technically classify as fond, but that is entirely beside the point.

And yes, fine, if you absolutely must know, I did once notice he was cold and—again, purely out of practicality—pulled him into my arms to share warmth. And perhaps he did sigh against my shoulder, and perhaps I did rest my chin atop his head, and perhaps we did stay like that for an extended period of time because it was the most logical way to maintain body heat. But that is all it was! A tactical decision! Nothing more!

And if anyone says otherwise, they are deeply mistaken, and I will be forced to present an exhaustive scholarly rebuttal, complete with annotated sources, footnotes, and a sternly worded preface.

Now, if you will excuse me, Eredin has requested my assistance in selecting new earrings, and I must ensure that he picks a pair that complements his eyes, enhances his bone structure, and subtly matches his favorite tunic.

This is entirely reasonable behavior.

[sixbynine-da]

I use the phrase 'you were doing the best you could with the tools you had' a lot when talking to my parents about a lot of stuff.

Because they really were and we can forgive each other missteps in life with that context.

It never occured to me to apply the same logic to myself when feeling like I'm failing.

And maybe i should.

Because we're all kinda just doing the best we can with the tools we have.

[eric-sadahire]

What the hap is fuckening?

[jplosier]

Me too!!! Twinsies!

How do you handle loneliness?

Awkwardly.

[jenxaya]

First post

Just saying hi lol. I doubt anyone will ever see this but I still wanna say something. If anyone sees this I hope you have a good day :]

[erreconerre]

[cklxs]

those nights

[therealstinkyone]

artstyle tings

[jnkmamma]

There's no such thing as spiritual warfare or vaccine damage - it's all in your mind... oh really?

If you’ve had vaccinations… Pray that you don’t get any future side effects or even worse, in Jesus name! I asked myself the question, am I vaccine damaged? I had 2 x AstraZeneca and 1 x Pfizer booster also had covid twice. Declined any further vaccinations after doing extensive research online. I do not believe it is safe or effective, therefore I retain my right to refuse medication, despite…

[tomorrowedblog]

First look at Nothing To See Here

A new trailer has been released for Nothing To See Here, which is set to release November 17, 2023.

Alexis, a young blind man who dreams of being a successful comedian, moves to the world’s biggest city, accompanied by his best friend and “manager,” Charly, who has cerebral palsy. What could go wrong?

[nonbinarydrag0n]

I’m three ducks in a trench coat. Evidence unavailable at the moment.

[chimeraonceagain]

Just a random story.

The air was thick with the stench of exhaust fumes and gunpowder as Alex Cruz stepped off the bus into the outskirts of San Luis Potosí. His eyes scanned the streets, lingering on the faded graffiti that marked gang territory. The city had changed in the years he’d been away—changed for the worse. The sidewalks were cracked, the buildings decaying, and the people walked with their heads down, hoping to avoid the chaos that ruled the streets. The gang wars were worse now, fiercer than when his family was killed. And it was all too clear: the police weren’t going to stop it. They couldn’t.

Alex tightened the straps of the military backpack slung over his shoulder, feeling the weight of the gear inside. The weight of a war he hadn’t left behind—just traded one battlefield for another. He was done with the special forces, done with following orders that led nowhere. His eyes narrowed as he looked ahead, toward the heart of the city that had taken everything from him. No more orders. No more chain of command. From now on, it was his war, fought on his terms.

As he approached his childhood home—abandoned for years, its walls now crumbling and marked by the passing of time—he paused. His parents’ old electronics repair shop had once been his refuge, where he’d learned to tinker with gadgets, to make things work. Now, it would become something else entirely. A base. A fortress. The birthplace of something new. Something dangerous.

The door creaked as he pushed it open, the scent of dust and decay rushing out to greet him. He stepped inside, dropping his bag on the floor with a heavy thud. The room was dark, but his senses were sharp—military training had taught him to feel the space, to hear the smallest creak of wood or shift of air. He flicked on the single overhead light, casting a dim glow over the workbenches cluttered with old tools and broken radios. His father’s workbench, still standing after all these years, was where it all began.

Now, it was where something else would begin.

*Three Days Later*

Alex stood in front of the workbench, sweat dripping down his face, his fingers sore from hours of assembling, wiring, and coding. His old military gear was spread out beside him: fatigues, tactical vests, a sniper rifle, a silenced pistol. His old life. But on the table, pieced together from parts salvaged from the shop, was the foundation of something new—a rough prototype of a suit that would soon become his armor. It wasn’t much yet: light body armor with a few reinforced plates, a tactical vest equipped with simple tools. But it was enough. Enough to start.

His eyes flicked to the corner of the room where a laptop hummed softly, its screen illuminated with lines of code. He had named it **Nyx**, a rudimentary AI system he’d begun developing just days before. It wasn’t much more than a simple learning algorithm now, but it had potential. Every command he fed it, every problem he asked it to solve, helped it learn, adapt, grow. Nyx was the key—the bridge between his expertise in electronics and the war he was about to wage.

He wiped his brow, pulling up a chair and sitting in front of the screen.

"Nyx," he muttered. The AI’s interface blinked to life, a cursor awaiting his command.

> "Yes, Alex," the computerized voice replied, mechanical and emotionless for now. "What is your request?"

"Access local gang activity. Any known reports from law enforcement or recent news. I want to know who’s running the streets."

Nyx processed the request for a few seconds before pulling up a detailed map of the city. Red zones lit up across the screen, each one representing gang territory, each one a battleground. Alex’s stomach tightened. The city was carved into pieces, each controlled by a different faction. This wasn’t just about avenging his family anymore—it was about saving a city on the brink of collapse.

"Multiple reports of violence in the western sector," Nyx reported. "Main activity linked to La Espada Sangrienta."

Alex’s eyes narrowed. *La Espada Sangrienta*—the Blood Sword. The same gang that had slaughtered his family. They were still active, still tearing through the city with impunity. His jaw clenched, and he rose from the chair, pulling the tactical vest over his shoulders. His gear wasn’t advanced yet. The suit still had a long way to go before it could become the high-tech armor he envisioned. But this would do for now.

He holstered his silenced pistol, strapped his sniper rifle to his back, and glanced at Nyx’s display one last time. The AI was still crude, but it was learning. Growing. Soon, it would be a tool he could rely on. For now, it was enough to give him a slight edge.

"Nyx, keep tracking their movements. If you detect any shift in their operations, notify me immediately."

> "Understood, Alex."

With a final nod, Alex pulled a balaclava over his face, concealing his identity. The city would soon learn to fear him. But not yet. Tonight was only a test run. A first strike.

---

The night was thick with fog as Alex made his way through the city, moving like a ghost through the narrow alleyways and forgotten streets. His boots barely made a sound as he weaved between shadowed buildings, the gear he carried perfectly balanced from years of military experience. He kept his head low, blending in with the darkness, his eyes scanning every corner, every shadow, for threats.

He found his target easily enough. A warehouse on the city’s west side, where *La Espada Sangrienta* had set up a temporary base. Two guards were stationed outside, their rifles slung lazily over their shoulders, their faces twisted with boredom. Amateurs.

Alex dropped to a crouch behind a parked car, pulling his sniper rifle off his back. He set up quickly, the motions instinctive after years of training. He peered through the scope, his breathing slowing, his mind clearing. He squeezed the trigger.

*Pop.*

The silenced rifle barely made a sound as the first guard dropped. Before the second one could react, Alex fired again, the second bullet finding its mark. Both bodies hit the ground without a sound.

He moved quickly, retrieving his rifle and sprinting toward the warehouse. The doors were old, rusted—no alarms, no cameras. Sloppy. But Alex wasn’t surprised. These street-level thugs were arrogant, untouchable in their own minds. He pushed the door open slowly, slipping inside.

The interior was dimly lit, crates stacked haphazardly along the walls, the air thick with the scent of gasoline. Voices echoed from the far side of the warehouse, but Alex ignored them. His target wasn’t here to play hero. He wasn’t here to save the day. This was a surgical strike.

He knelt beside one of the crates, pulling a small explosive charge from his pack. It was a simple device—just enough to destroy their supply lines, make a statement. He placed it carefully, setting the timer for thirty seconds. Then, as silently as he had come, he slipped back out into the night.

As Alex melted into the shadows, the explosion shook the ground behind him, flames licking up into the sky. It was a start. A warning.

But this was only the beginning.

---

Back at the workshop, Alex sat in front of the laptop again, staring at the map of the city. The explosion had taken out one of *La Espada Sangrienta’s* key supply points, but the war was far from over. His fingers drummed on the table as he watched Nyx analyze the aftermath. He needed more than just brute force. He needed to be smarter, faster. Better.

"Nyx," he said quietly, his eyes narrowing. "We need to upgrade."

> "Understood, Alex," Nyx replied. "Beginning analysis of potential suit enhancements."

Alex leaned back, his heart still pounding from the night’s events. The fight was just beginning, and so was he.

Nyx was learning. The suit was evolving. And soon, so would Alex.

[hrjafael]

Not sure if this means anything but does anyone remember that “Nothing to See Here” webpage from the KEY marketing back in 2023? It appears the password has been changed.

https://www.herinteractive.com/nothingtoseehere/

https://nancydrew.fandom.com/wiki/Mystery_of_the_Seven_Keys

According to the Development portion in the wiki, the password used to be “purgamentum” before it was changed to “lediamantdemamisere”.

Now both passwords aren’t working. Is something in the works?

[themetalvirus]

normal sonic #normal #regular #nothingtoseehere #normalsonic

[jensenackles-daily]

davidgrizzlart #tbt to New Years Eve 2022 I think… Two Philosophers and a Poet. Happy Thursday!!! #homies #nothingtoseehere (x)

[aryamistwood]

REDEEM CODE ALERT!

Star Stable posted to Instagram that they're releasing 7 redeem codes through the end of February! Keep an eye on social media, the launcher, and in-game! These codes only last 24 hours so get them while you can!

The first code is: NOTHINGTOSEEHERE