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@bulletnick replied to your post: â... and Neta learns he's allergic to colored...â
I hope he's not allergic to the candy...
Thankfully he's not. But he's sensitive to sweets. So he can't really eat that much without damaging his teeth further.
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I was tagged by @shreedle Tag nine (9) people you'd like to know better Last song: Halo by Pendulum and Bullet for my Valentine. Amazing song. Currently watching: Iâm actually not watching anything at the moment. Last thing I watched though was Polite Society, which was hilarious lmao Currently reading: Nothing like right now, waiting for Greerâs book to come out hehe. Also idk if reading over my own writing even counts thatâs what Iâve been doing. Current obsession: Star of Providence (formerly Monolith), Kirby, and Mega Man are always on my mind. Also rotating my Ancient OCs like theyâre rotisserie chickens in my brain. Tagging uhhhhh idk @bulletnick @mythandlaur @apprenticenerd and I canât think of anybody else sorry lmao
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What conlangs do you know, or have some familiarity with?
I am, unfortunately, not fluent or even conversant in any conlang. However, I have some familiarity with Mando'a, the language of the Mandalorians from Star Wars, and Trashtalk, the language of the mutants from Nuclear Throne, plus a little passing knowledge of the big ones (Klingon, Esperanto, Tolkien Elvish), Toki Pona, and Chaotic (aka Khaotika, from several puzzles in the MIT Mystery Hunt). I'm also actively attempting to learn a conlang called Chi'a'ei as part of an ARG I'm playing right now.
I've also attempted to write a couple conlangs myself! The most complete one is KahĹĄahrde, an attempt at rebuilding the Draconic language from D&D from the ground up while making it, you know, make linguistic sense. Even that needs a lot of vocabulary building before I can call it usable, though.
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Custom Monolith ship designs for myself (designed by apprenticeNerd), then for @mythandlaur, @apprenticenerd, and @lilaxthegreat, in the style of @monolithdevs game Monolith.
#bulletnick#niqnick#laur#paperlaur#apprenticenerd#nerd#lilac#lilax#monolith#team d-13#after the end#relics of the past#custom#ship#designs#OC#pixel art
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Dissonant Counterpoint, please.
The WIP Tag Game
You should know this one!
Dissonant Counterpoint - Crypt of the Necrodancer - 2017
A multichapter pre-canon story about Octavian and the relationship between him and an original character, Francis âFretâ Hetfield. Both Octavian and Fret were musicians rejected by the greater community, and even though Octavian didnât particularly enjoy Fretâs...eclectic method of expressing himself, he still reached out a hand in sympathy and the two became fast friends. However, over time, their ambitions drifted apart--with Octavian shooting for the stars with the Golden Lute while Fret maintained music as a mere hobby, setting his sights on more domestic goals. This rift continued to push them apart until Octavian finally found the Golden Lute heâd been searching for, and an explosive argument broke out between the two, leading to an accident with the Lute that left Fret patient zero--and, eventually, the first casualty--of a magical plague that would engulf the village.
Octavian revived Fret after fleeing to the crypt, giving him one last chance to join him, but Fret refused, disillusioned and disgusted by how far his friend had fallen. The altercation that followed was ugly, and all that was left of Fret was charred bones and a halberd--though perhaps some guilt stirred in Octavianâs twisted soul. After all, with the Luteâs power, bones can still be useful. And really, is there much of a difference between a halberd and a scythe, anyway?
Obviously this was in 2017 when I was much more into Necrodancer as a whole, but I still enjoy the original characters I created for it (Fret and his adoptive sister Maria, who would eventually succumb to the plague as well and become Reaper). Itâs probably never going to get finished just because it was so long ago, but hey, thereâs the plot!
And hereâs a snippet dated December 2017, under the cut
Octavian had a good feeling that he had reached the place that kept the secret he'd been itching to learn. Though he hadn't expected the place to be quite so...small.
It had taken him a few tries to find anything out in the fields behind the village, and he had little to work with; he knew the direction Fret left both the town and the graveyard each day, Fret had said he 'didn't live too far' from the graveyard, and he had once vaguely gestured off to the west when mentioning that he had to go 'do chores'. But Octavian was stubborn, and if he wanted to find out something--including wherever Fret was so cagey about living--he would find it out.
It was evening. He suspected whoever lived here had already had supper, and so he sidled up to the little wooden cabin off to the side of the large barn. Not wanting to knock if no one was home, Octavian began peeking through the windows, finding the curious sight of the telltale flicker of candleflames and lanterns, yet no one seemingly there.
And then, when he looked in one mirror, a small girl looked back at him, and the bard yelped and scrambled back. The girl in the window--likely twelve, with thick, curly dark hair and mischievous eyes--grinned at him, and knocked on the window a couple of times to ensure Octavian was thoroughly spooked before ducking out. As Octavian cautiously approached the house again, he could hear footsteps inside running for the door.
The click of a latch. He looked off the way he'd come to see the girl's head sticking out of the door, searching about for him.
"Hey. Some people knock."
Octavian, somewhat shaken, headed back for the door, and caught a strong whiff of spices before the girl shut it behind her. "I--ah--I apologize. I'm looking for a young man."
"Aren't we all." She grinned.
Octavian shook his head, flustered. "No, no, a specific young man, dark hair, a bit of--scruff on the chin..."
The girl's eyes lit up. "Oh! Fret!"
"Yes, that's him."
"Right place, wrong building. Come on."
The girl merrily skipped past, leaving the bard momentarily too dumbfounded to follow. Once he managed to get his feet moving again, he followed the girl towards the entry to the barn, where she fumbled with the lock for a moment before pushing the doors inward with a loud creak.
The girl pranced in, Octavian following a moment later and immediately having the pleasure of the very strong scent of wet cow and hay. He couldn't help wrinkling his nose; the village streets held a certain musk to them that was similar and that he also disliked. He doubted the courtmen and women had to deal with this...He shook his head to clear it, and glanced around.
The barn was not as large as it first appeared. There was at least one donkey staring back at him, along with the large, furtive eyes of several of the smelly bovines. And yet, no sign of Fret...
"Hey!" The girl crossed her arms. "Fret, are you awake? You are now. C'mon, I brought someone."
The shuffling was Octavian's first indication to look up--all he could see was crudely made wooden paneling where the rafters should've been, which shifted and creaked under someone's feet. Growing ever more alarmed, Octavian slowly took several steps back so he could get a glimpse over the paneling.
"Maria," came a familiar grunt, "I thought you were busy doing your magic st--"
Fret's head peeked over the edge of the platform, and their eyes met. Fret's expression froze, though his eyes widened slightly.
"...You."
He sounded vaguely surprised, though little else could be gleaned from his expression. The two stared at each other for several long moments, awkwardness hanging heavily in the air between them.
Octavian decided to try humor. "So! You aren't simply a spirit that wanders the night?"
"...How did you know?"
Octavian's attempt at a jovial expression immediately faded at the harsh, accusatory look in the other's eyes. Disliking the conflict, Octavian shifted his gaze away, locking his hands behind his back. He could almost believe the little attic room didn't belong to Fret...if it weren't for the small sleeping pallet and his lute lying nearby, along with an unfamiliar fiddle that must've belonged to him.
"Er...A deductive mind," Octavian replied, lamely.
"Why are you here?"
"Well, I--I wanted to know what all the secrecy was about. You...live up there, in that room?"
Exasperation was creeping into the edges of Fret's expression, though he nodded once. "Better than the street."
"What?"
"They took me in. I do the heavy stuff; herding, lifting, pulling, and they feed me and let me stay in here. Won't let me practice in here, though. Scares the cows."
For a brief moment, Octavian nearly burst out laughing at the mental image of Fret's screaming, wailing 'performance' beginning a stampede. He swallowed it down, but unfortunately was not sure what else to say, causing another awkwardness to descend on them.
"But..." Octavian fumbled, opening and closing his mouth a few times before blurting out, "But there are bats up there...?"
The girl, Maria, snorted, startling him slightly. For the first time, Fret's expression shifted, a light smirk on his lips. "Yeah there are," he replied with a chuckle, turning his head to look into the rafters mere feet above his head.
"He's friends with the bats," Maria chirped, "They love him."
Fret smiled into the rafters for a moment, before his gaze briefly turned to Octavian, appraising him in a manner Octavian found very discomforting. "You're not afraid of bats, are you?"
"Erm, no..." They'd spooked him in the past, but he supposed it was no creepier than the old graveyard.
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Powerless - Fanfiction by BulletNick
[Spoilers] At long last, he managed to destroy her. Now it was just him, all alone, after the end, after the victory, feeling utterly powerless. Edit: Author has changed their name from âBulletNickâ to âNIQNickâ
#monolith#after the end#team d-13#bulletnick#nick#fanwork#fanfiction#null#d-13#human#spoilers#niqnick
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Can you do more of your awesome stuff that shows what a great artist you are, or how excited you are for the things you love? :D
Yes!! I can do that!!
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Tagging @bulletnick because I know Flash games are/were important to you!
Alright listen up fellow late 90â˛s and early 2000â˛s kids. Grew up with flash/shockwave browser games?
Well Adobe is retiring flash in 2020 (rip) and this dude BlueMaxima has created a project to save online flash/shock/java/etc games and animation though a launcher software. HERE
Thereâs literally thousands of games that have been found and saved.
The internet is truly beautiful at times.
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@bulletnick idk if you're talking abt like in general or how a self insert server specifically is, but if its the latter its just like... a nice place for people to talk abt their self insert characters and selfships or just to gush about the characters their fond of, or share art/ writing etc related to said stuff
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Rumor says you're so unappealing you've never had so much as a woman's kiss in your whole life.
Meme Sunday: Send my muse a rumor for their reaction.
Offended!
He puts a hand to his chest and opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, before his shock subsides to a look of frustration.
âAnd why is this any of your business, hmm? I donât see a trail of women behind you. Iâll have you know that ladies love musicians, thereâs just...ah...never been one worthy of being close enough for that! I have standards!â
He doesnât have standards.
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Hey! You! â
I had a feeling you'd be the first to send me this.
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Geode - MegaMan cartridge - Non-binary flag - Terraria Lore Tome - Sexy cephalopod art. I don't do anon.
Yeah thatâll definitely summon me.
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"Anyone can send me an ask with one of the titles and Iâll post a snippet or talk about that WIP!" The Acropolis, Tacet, Checklist, A Tiny Galaxy, Hearsay, Going Back, Ella Disenchanted, Making Peace, The Slashed Circle, Wake Up, Tenno, Midnight, Heliotropism, Arrhythmia, the one about Among Us, the one about Library of Ruina, the one thatâs a D&D world concept. Yes, all of them. I know you wanna talk about all of them. So go, go forth and do it!
Hoooo boy, this is gonna be a long post. Lots and lots of writing snippets under the cut to avoid dash stretch!
The Acropolis - original - length uncertain - 1.4k and counting
im not ready for this im not i thought it would be yrs i thought id at least get an english degree first
omg sal whats goin on
fuckin hell whyd it have to be now i have a chem lab tomorrow
sally-tate macpherson. u never swear. ever. wtf is goin on.
ok. jess. i need u to listen really really carefully. understand?
answer the goddamn question ur scarin me
shut up and listen and this will go a lot better
fine but u need to tell me wtf is happnenig
ok. im going to tell you a bunch of stuff. not giving u advice, thats not allowed, but im gonna tell u stuff it seems like itd be impossible for me to know.
?????????????
i said shut up this is really important dont question how i know it. just go with it and figure out what to do. and dont die. bc no matter how crazy stuff seems, if u die, ur dead. here and everywhere. ok?
This is an original story coming straight from a @/writing-prompt-s prompt about a crack in a kidâs hardwood floor that they fantasized was a portal actually being one. I originally intended to write the entire thing like this, as a conversation over text, but that may not be feasible given a certain world-building detail at the other end of the portal (and the limits of my creativity lmao).
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Tacet - The Blackout Club - one-shot - 3.2k and counting
She closed her eyes again, and there it was. Hallucination? Some new science trick with electromagnetic radiation off the visible spectrum? Evidence that she was actually going insane? Whatever it was, it burned behind her eyelids in bright, incontrovertible red - and was completely invisible when she opened her eyes again. There was just the usual mess of club posters and one big one about someoneâs exceedingly dumb-looking lost cat.
Eyes open, there was only Sargent Snuggles. Eyes closed, there was the normal darkness and then three lines of text where the poster had been, wavering like scarlet fire:
JOIN TBC JOIN TBC JOIN TBC
TBC? What the fuck was that? Sheâd never heard of any group with that acronym before. Hardly aware of the flurry of weird looks from half the other people in the hallway, she crossed the hall to examine the lost cat poster more closely. It felt like perfectly normal paper when she touched it, and there wasnât even a hint of red with her eyes open, unless you counted the catâs tacky pink sweater. How the hell was this even possible?
âYouâre finally cracking, Bri,â she groaned under her breath, then headed for her locker. She did have to get home. Add another big fat entry to the weird shit list.
A backstory one-shot for my Blackout Club OC Briar, telling the story of how she got into the club in the first place. Iâve been stuck in the same spot for a while now, after Briarâs friend Dani explains the club to her, and Iâve come to the conclusion that the sceneâs over as is. Of course, writing the next one is the tough part.
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Checklist - The Blackout Club - one-shot - 1.7k and counting
8. You still have a headache. Shouldnât you go back to sleep and try to do this in the morning?
9. (wake up)
10. Nah, youâve always been a night owl, and school starts criminally early, too early to get much done beforehand. Itâs quiet, except for Dad snoring. Your parents are asleep already. You can stay up until this is done, and theyâll be none the wiser.
11. Your head hurts worse. Itâs getting harder to think. At only 9 pm? 9:30? Whatever. You should sleep.
12. (wake UP)
13. What are you thinking? You have to read at least a little of this chapter, or thereâs no way youâll be able to bullshit your way through class tomorrow. Besides, all of a sudden, the silence feels...strange. Heavier? You canât describe it.
14. You need to sleep. You need a drink of water or something. You need to finish this damn homework. You need to sleep. You need to sleep.
15. Stare at The Great Gatsby. It doesnât make sense. Nothing makes sense.
16. Realize whatâs up with the silence. Dadâs not snoring anymore. You arenât feeling like yourself. You need to sleep.
17. Somethingâs weird.
18. (WAKE UP)
19. ...No. Somethingâs wrong.
Another Blackout Club story and another Interface Screw, as it were, this time in the form of a (very long) checklist. None of the characters have names (yet). It describes another way a kid could find themself running around at night with the Blackout Club, this time by fighting off the Song just enough to run into a club member who could wake them up the rest of the way. As with Tacet, I still need to write the suspenseful part.
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A Tiny Galaxy - Warframe - 4 chapters planned, 1 complete, 1 in progress - 7.8k and counting
Try it if you donât believe me, the kid in the vent had said.
It was impossible. It was physically impossible. All of this was impossible. Had the Void...? Could the Void...?
The ship was at a standstill. Her mother had tried to kill her, and something had happened. Sheâd made something happen. There had been no holoprojector in that kidâs hand. Nothing was impossible anymore.
Jhia took a deep breath. How the heck was she supposed to do this? Was she supposed to feel something, some internal guide? Blue Hair hadnât said. Feeling incredibly stupid, she did a quick mental checkup on herself. Nothing felt wrong, or different - but now that she thought about itâŚ
Afterward, she would try many times to explain it, and fail every time. The best she could come up with was that once she found the Void, calling on it was as easy and as natural as breathing. She opened her hands in front of her, concentrated on that force like an extension of herself, reopened her eyes, and there it was: a riotous little ball of energy, wisps and motes of light and not-quite-light like a tiny galaxy, the Tau system in the palm of her hand, raging.
More OC backstory time! This oneâs for my Tenno, a nerdy fourteen-year-old (at the time of this story, anyway) by the name of Jhia, going through the hell that is the Zariman Ten-Zero and what happened on it. This is possibly the first part of the story I actually wrote: the roll-credits moment when Jhia realizes the Voidâs changed her more already than she thought.
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Hearsay - Lobotomy Corporation/Library of Ruina - one-shot - 1k and counting
"Oh? Did they investigate further?"
"They tried. Found a few fingerprints, but they didn't match anyone in the database."
"What's the update, then?"
"Reports from elsewhere in the district of someone not in uniform carrying a Zwei sword. They're slippery, good at avoiding us, which would suggest Syndicate operative to me and HQ. Except that in every one of the descriptions we managed to get, our sword thief is a child."
"What? How?!"
"You tell me, Iona. You're the one who went to the crime scene."
"Right... Jeez, if it's a kid, I guess that'd explain why Petrov thought they weren't a threat..."
"My thoughts exactly. HQ has a fair amount of hearsay to go on, but nobody can quite agree on how old the child is, or whether or not she's with a Syndicate. Most agree that she appears to be a girl, tall for a child, auburn hair, clothes and demeanor typical of a Backstreets native."
"We got a name?"
"They've heard Yeri, Kali, Redbird, Suma, Aelfin... No one knows which is her real one, or if it's even any of them at all."
"Damn. ...Say, are you going to drink that entire pot of coffee?"
"Help yourself."
This is one of those stories that turned into an accidental AU when more of canon came out. The idea behind it is that itâs Kaliâs backstory told entirely in conversations in which she did not participate, showcasing the fact that a Fixerâs fame is their livelihood and Kali was about as famous as they come, before the whole L Corp thing happened. Of course, the vast majority of the headcanons here got invalidated with a certain Ruina update, so my motivationâs kinda down on this one.
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Going Back has already been talked about here!
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Ella Disenchanted - The Blackout Club - one-shot (maybe two-shot??) - 1.4k and counting
She woke. Her stomach went through a series of panicked flip-flops as she thought something strange had done it, Dad or a little-kid-nightmares shadow beast had made noise, but no - why had she fallen asleep in the first place? Her butt and shoulder were sore where theyâd been leaning on the bottom and side of the windowsill, presumably all night, since the sun was full up over the trees on Old Growth Hill.
All night. Sheâd promised herself she wouldnât fall asleep, but she did anyway. God dammit.
As she unfolded herself from her cramped ball, though, she froze. Under the comforter sheâd pulled around her shoulders for warmth, she was wearing her gray jacket, a T-shirt, jeans, sneakers getting dried mud all over the carpet.
Last she remembered, sheâd been in her pajamas.
In which a Blackout Club kidâs little sister wonders where heâs gone when he runs away to the boxcar, and tries to get to the bottom of the mystery herself. Usually sheâd be too young for the club to recruit, but her investigations and an incident involving SAO are more than enough extenuating circumstance. Unlike most of my other WIPs, thereâs a whole outline at the end of my doc for this one.
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Making Peace - Warframe - multi-chapter - 1.5k and counting
âIâŚâ Iksoh finally said. âSorna, I hope you realize. Iâm not into this. I never - Iâm not doing this. Whatever youâre doing, I canât.â
âI know,â Sorna said softly. The decision tore at her heart again and she almost backed out of the vent, but no. She had to go. She wouldnât see another innocent crumple in her rifle sights. âI hope you realize. Iâm not coming back.â
Behind her, Iksoh let out a long, shaky breath. âItâs taking all Iâve got not to report you right now. Sorna⌠the Queensâll have my head for this. Please, please, let it be worth it. Go. Donât let them take yours.â
âI wonât,â Sorna promised, and meant it.
Later, after her last fight for her freedom was done, on the Steel Meridian ship headed for Kronia Relay, Sorna looked out at the planet retreating behind her and thought of Iksoh. Sheâd just learned a new word from a Meridian soldier: vaykor tal, the defectorâs spirit. Iksoh had let her go, at risk of their own life. Theyâd had a bit of the vaykor tal themself, even if they hadnât known it, even if theyâd thought it was just some weakness that was bound to get them killed.
âRanre treri, duf krun,â she whispered into space, a Grineer well-wishing passed down from sergeant to tube-fresh lancer since time immemorial. May your hands be steady, and may life be kind.
This is an AU born of me and some friends wondering why in the heck Perrin and the Meridian hate each other so much in game. Itâs about a group of Kavor - Grineer defectors distinguished from other Meridian members by their pacifism - who get to a Relay and start wondering the same thing. Besides Sorna (and, later in the story, Iksoh as well), there would have been Chakh, Beket, and Sydon, plus at least four of the syndicate leaders and a bunch of side-character OCs, all caught up somehow in what turns out to be a surprisingly far-reaching web of intrigue.
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The Slashed Circle - Warframe - one-shot, probably - 429 and counting
In addition to their written and spoken language, the Grineer have a full language of hand signs. It has its quirks, as all languages do - be careful of confusing it with the Corpus sign language, in which the sign for âto payâ roughly approximates the Grineer sign for...a certain portion of the male anatomy. Among these is the common Grineer sentiment against those who defect from their ranks, baked into the sign just as much as their spoken words.
The sign of the slashed circle, the sedashkur - a finger drawn in a circle on the chest, followed by a diagonal line - is the highest of taboos to any loyal Grineer. It shows support for such scum as the Kavor and Steel Meridian, enough so that it forms the basis for the Meridianâs battle standard. To sign the sedashkur is to betray your siblings, commit a grave insult to your superiors, paint a near-indelible target on your back. It is an object of hatred and fear throughout the ranks.
She fears it, yes, but she does not hate it, for all her life and into her death as well. It shouldnât trouble her now, though. It is easy to hide a language, and she burned her journals before she was called to the fortress.
This is a fic about Jhia and her one (1) converted Kuva Lich, namely about the process of said Lichâs defeat and defection, that kinda never got off the ground. Contrary to this snippet, I think most of it would have been written in what are essentially space emails back and forth between Lich and Tenno? I definitely got as far as Jhia sending an audio recording of a bass-boosted dog fart, anyhow.
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Wake Up, Tenno - Warframe - one-shot - 950 and counting
âWake up, Tenno.â
She wakes. She is - she is Tenno, right? She is a Tenno? Her mind is confused, so full of fog and dead ends - how long was she asleep?
The voice that woke her seems familiar. She might have loved the speaker, in her scrambled past life, the woman in the purple helmet, the one called Lotus in her HUD vision. Her surroundings are a ruin of some sort. Her body isâ
...what?
She can move just fine. Her fingers and arms and legs respond with suspicious ease, given how long she must have slept to be this scattered upon waking up, and yet thereâs some fundamental disconnect. This is her Warframe, her body, but itâs not her body somehow.
...wait, where did the term âWarframeâ come from?
A Tenno, unnamed but intended to be Jhia on my end, wakes up on Earth at the very beginning of the in-game storyline. Since the tutorial has gotten an overhaul in recent months, I may have to modify even what little I have on this a lot.
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Midnight - Iconoclasts - poem - 280 and counting
been anything smaller than been anything
never been anything smaller than
âgood morning, howâs miss grump doing today? i heard about that last mission...if you didnât sleep well i can call you in sick, itâs alright-â âoh, shut up, greyâ
there has never been anything
âoh, shut up, greyâ âlove you tooâ
smaller
âlove you tooâ
than
me
A very fragmented, stream-of-consciousness-y poem meant to represent Agent Blackâs failing sanity near the end of the game. The words of her famous one-liner (âthere has never been anything smaller than meâ) are interspersed, out of order until the end, with poetic descriptions of other characters and bits and pieces of a flashback involving Agent Grey.
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Heliotropism - Iconoclasts - one-shot - 1.1k and counting
Lily, though sheâs superstitious, will have none of these self-important truths, none of these semblances of certainty when really all it is is wishing on Ivory and hoping for the best. She calls for Miss Andress instead.
A stout but severe woman with ten grandchildren and a great-grandchild on the way, Miss Andress is perhaps the quintessential matriarch: nurturing, selfless, brutally honest. She is the one the people of 17 trust when they feel they can trust no one else. Lily needs the kind of reassurance only she can give, with the authority of ninety-one years and the wisdom of two sons, one daughter, and some five dogs raised under her care.
When Miss Andress visits House 4, she asks Polro and Lily to each bring an object they cherish the most. For Polro itâs his largest wrench, pitted with use but still polished to a brassy shine; Lily surprises everyone by pulling out a tiny, unloaded stun-gun, and surprises them more by not explaining it at all. Miss Andress doesnât question it. She just turns the two tools over and over in her hands, head bowed, squinting at them as if trying to read the secrets of the universe in the scratches carved into them by time.
Finally she straightens up and sighs, pushing a strand of silver hair behind her ear. Her forehead is slick with sweat, though the night is cool outside. âI donât know what sheâll do,â the wise woman says, heavily, as if delivering bad news. âI just know sheâll change the world.â
Can you tell I like backstory fic? This one is for Robin, with one short anecdote for each year of her life, up to age 17 and the events of the game. Itâs also an excuse to world-build a bunch, lol.
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Arrhythmia - Crypt of the NecroDancer - one-shot(?) - 4k and counting
The creature didnât say anything, just beckoned to the shadows. Before I could move, two other creatures came for me, sending the other humans - former humans? - scrambling away in panic. One landed a hard blow on the back of my head that sent me to my hands and knees, seeing sparks; the other said âFreeze!â and I could only watch as ice sprouted from the leaf litter, cementing me to the ground.
The one whoâd hit me produced a dagger from the inside of its cloak. I tried to pull myself up, to do anything at all to keep myself from getting shanked, but it was no good. There must have been a secondary effect on that spell; my limbs wouldnât respond. I felt the dagger tear cloth in the region of my back, and prepared for the pain.
It didnât come. The creature cut a slit in the back of my tunic, then another. Neither one touched the skin at all. I canât really describe what happened next - my brain was having trouble computing how my arms were in front of me, visible, unable to move, but it felt like the creature was pulling them through the gashes in my tunic, but that was wrong, they didnât feel like arms at all.
âHoly fuck,â I heard someone say.
The ice holding me down melted into nothing as the spell wore off. I jumped back up, head spinning a little, ready for another fight, only to spot two flicks of scarlet in my peripheral vision. I spun around, but they moved with me.
I think I already knew what they were. I just couldnât admit it to myself.
Youâve already seen this one, Nick, though Iâm pretty sure it was well over two years ago. Itâs a pile of old headcanons, some of them now outdated Iâm pretty sure, about how Nocturna ended up a vampire in the first place and a little bit about how vampire society works. According to Google Docs, Iâve been stuck on this one since March 2018. Whoops.
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untitled (working title âadult citra meets an impostor bc what is self-controlâ) - Among Us - one-shot - 572 and counting
âI know. Youâre stuck, arenât you?â Having well and truly gotten their full attention, Citra continues, âGod, I can barely imagine. Having to take a weird-ass host whose biology might even be toxic to you, I donât know. Needing to get to a whole other galaxy, feeling like the only way to do that is by deception and death.â âHowâŚ?â
She sighs. âI told you, this isnât my first rodeo. One of your kind saved my life when I was a kid. Since heâd killed Mom and Dad had been out of the picture long before, he stayed here and helped raise me afterward. Itâs how I learned to pronounce...a few of your words, at least.â
âYou missed the âHâ sound.â
âIsnât that the one thatâs literally impossible to do right with Terran anatomy?â
âMaybe. You think I know Terran anatomy all that well?â
Citra chuckles. âFair point. You let us find your buddy and fix the ship, Iâll raise Xai when we get comms back and he can try and help you get home. Deal?â
I found an Among Us comic on Tumblr, absolutely ran into left field with it to make a couple of OCs, and then made AUs of those OCs because of course I did. This one is from a future scenario in which Citra (typically orange) meets someone rather familiar on a mission with the crew of the Skeld.
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untitled (working title âlibrary of ruina but they adopt half the guestsâ) - Library of Ruina - length uncertain - 1k and counting
âAnd what happened to not caring about others because itâs a waste of time and heartache?â
Now itâs Rolandâs turn to sigh. âI donât care about him. I just donât want the guilt of killing - look at him, he canât be older than eighteen or nineteen!â
Raised eyebrow. âFinn will be twenty years old in fifteen daysâ time. He is a legal adult. I fail to see why this should matter to either of us.â
âHeâs fresh off his first Fixer license! I have years of experience! He had no idea what he was getting into when he signed that invitation and you know it!â
Angela fixes him with a glare that turns his stomach, his freshly remade body reacting to the memory of its sudden, and extremely painful, dismemberment. âI could quite literally hold your soul in my hands if I wanted,â she reminds him in an undertone of steel. âI must do the same for him, following the invitationâs guidance, or my entire plan will be lost, my coworkersâ sacrifices all for naught. Do not disappoint me or ask any more impertinent questions. You know what to do, and what will happen if you do not.â
Look, some of the people you fight in this game deserved so much better, okay? I came up with an AU concept where if a guest willingly concedes the fight and agrees to stick around, you can get their book without killing them. Finn doesnât die; neither do Tomerry or Shi Association; all the former employees realize exactly whatâs going on with Philip after the Wedge Office fight and manage to calm him down, avoiding the whole Crying Children situation. (And then Gebura makes him collect his jaw off the floor by revealing herself as the Red Mist.)
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The one thatâs a D&D world concept doesnât have anything concrete written for it yet. (Donât read this bit if you might want to play in my campaign at some point!) Instead of your typical Forgotten Realms planar setup, the world at large would be called the Seven Spheres, each of them different in terms of climate, geography, native species and magic, etc. The First Sphere would be the most âgenericâ one (to our way of thinking) and the main setting of the campaign; it would also be the smallest of the Seven, its primary continent home to a former empire of dragons that spanned most of the Sphere until its mysterious fall a thousand years ago.
Now, since the empire fell, the dragons and their children have slowly been dying out. Best estimates are that thereâs only a thousand or two left in the entire First Sphere, with fewer eggs hatched every decade. The player characters enter a world with pretty typical low-level quests to start with, but every so often, especially if they engage with optional story stuff (this would be a more roleplay-focused than combat-focused campaign), they get wind of changes in the air - a failed harvest here, an unusually hot and stormy summer there, a trade war once they start hitting mid-levels.
It mimics real-world climate change in all but cause. As coastal cities struggle to contend with rising seas and, more alarmingly, wizards all over the Sphere start to notice their magic falter and wane, the PCsâ goal becomes getting to the bottom of this. And whatâs at the bottom is...your typical Nerd fusion of science with fantasy settings.
The Seven Spheres are not planes of existence in the normal D&D sense, but seven planets in the same solar system, each with its own ancient god far more powerful than any god in any mortal pantheon; the First Sphere is so named because itâs closest to the sun. These planetary gods are incredibly large and incredibly alien, thinking in geologic time and concepts far too broad and slow for most sapient beings to comprehend. A thousand years ago, the fall of the dragon empire was caused by an ill-advised ritual meddling with the god of the First Sphereâs natural process of rebirth, causing said god to die without a replacement.
Itâs taken this long for the First Sphere to feel the effects because, again, geologic time - a thousand years is a blink of an eye in this kind of time scale. But now the ancient earth-magic that had kept the Sphereâs climate temperate and its magicians in business is failing. The dragons, as beings of magic intrinsically, have been failing all along. And now itâs up to the PCs, up at level 17-20 if not higher by that point, to figure out how to fix the situation and find a new planetary god for the First Sphere before the whole Sphere burns to death.
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Original ship design belongs to @apprenticenerd.
#monolith#relics of the past#fanart#art#edited screenshot#pixel art#apprenticenerd#team d-13#green eye#bulletnick#niqnick
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salmonandsoup replied to your post: Realizing I donât have a writing âportfolioâ and...
DO IT
bulletnick replied to your post: Realizing I donât have a writing âportfolioâ and...
It would be nice, yeah. :)
good to get two definitely unbiased opinions
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With Yes Man: Did you & your F/O(s) get along at first or did it take time?
Well, I feel like we probably didnât get off on a good foot- Iâd probably found him while looting bennyâs room out of Spite ⢠and during meeting him would have been divulged that he was the one who set me up to get shot in the head- Impulsivity mixed with a good amount of rage would have probably lead me to take a swing at him (despite that probably being useless seeing that securitrons are built like fucking tanks).
However seeing that he quiteâŚ. literally cant fight back etc would probably be immediately discouraging/ pity evoking so Iâd settle on stealing bennyâs plans to take over new vegas in the vein of thought of it being the best way to continue to spite him after death, and I think after that Iâd end up growing fond of yes man pretty quickly during our scheming together!
#asks#that's my new tag for yes man junk so it doesn't. show up in the tag hghttsk#bulletnick#yesfinn
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