#nix crypta

[moro-the-sun]

Don’t you want to be more than this?

Don’t you have anything real to give?

Don’t you have anything serious to say?

No offense, but you’ve got nothing to offer me

[moro-the-sun]

secrets kept, secrets told

“Do I need to know?” Nuke asks, and Viking finds himself laughing awkwardly — oh, yeah, they are still not-talking about that or something.

“I mean, yeah, I- yeah I guess you’d like to know that, it wouldn’t be bad to know about that!”

“Right. But are you going to tell me that?"

Or; Viking and Nukeri talk about some secrets. Or don't.

Happy Dominion SMP oneshot day.

[moro-the-sun]

I decided that I will slowly update you on my journey through 100dmv. Not fully live posting, but like, before bed and when something actually cool strikes me.

I'm now on the Aether, day 25! Random thoughts collection:

1) This reminds me SO MUCH of Orphans Path (by aenor_llelo on ao3 I believe. READ OP READ OP READ OP ITS SO GOOD) I'm actually going to re-read it before sleep. Also this says to me that this can absolutely be put in nix crypta (my au Don't Worry About It), which I already kinda knew but it's good to have confirmation. Love to see eldritch horror that I can adopt to my universe xd

2) I will ABSOLUTELY need a fucking whiteboard with my thoughts and associations because oh boy do I have some shit on my mind

3) I need to do I deep dive into codes and which of them are actually solved and what they mean. Space morse specifically because there were. . . A lot.

4) I love the series. . . But I hate how immersion is just _broken_ it's so broken it's non-existent to be honest. I hate when it happens but I'm just trying to get used to it. It's gonna be alright it's just my personal thing.

5) Is there a bingo card on 100dmv? THERE SHOULD BE AND I NEED IT ON MY DESK.

6) I want to write and/or draw something. Maybe even write a song (this will go terribly wrong but I will have fun). I am vibrating.

7) Is there a required literature/media in the fandom? I need a list. I want to know.

Thanks everyone for help and luck, I would need it.

Halfway to go, I guess.

[moro-the-sun]

Nuke: I am a descendant of Icarus!

Youl, whispering to me like we are in a cinema: does he know that Icarus is the guy that like, very famously fell?

Anyway I just finished Nukeri’s Dominion and I am very normal and fine. Have a rough design and headcanons for nix crypta + a small snippet to a thing I want to write (I am still trying to find their voices, I think Viking is beyond my English comprehension and he is not even using any hard words)

[moro-the-sun]

Nukeri: I had some malfunction with my wings at the start of the season so I’m not going to get an elytra

Me, looking at the plans for next fics in the series deeply connected with Nuke’s wings and lack of thereof: oh. oh.

[moro-the-sun]

I've made a challenge for myself and it is to somehow make Dominion, SBK1, SBK2 and 100dmv work inside one AU (nix crypta). How is it going? Well I think pretty good (I decided that Eight is a finger of an Architect and I do not know how to explain it to you really I DONT)

Insanity under the cut

Pigundo is a separate creature entirely, he is just a guy from the nether who's name no one can't pronounce; the Architect (now the Traveller) is a watcher that somehow regressed(??) into a human, and Eight is a part of the Architect in the same way the Architect was a part of Decem once upon a time. Everything WORKS and it has THEMES and CONFLICTS and if it works it means it works I'm.not touching that.

Viking is. . . Complicated tbh. The only thing that saves me is the fact that V.P. exist and multiple-Vikings are canon, but it's not as great of a help as you might think, because there are only so many options for clones to exist?? Parallel Universes do NOT exist so yeah it's hard.

For right now: Phantom became Blue and Yellow, both of them are more or less dead right now. Summertime was just a random dude and was not named Viking even after Yellow took his body. sbk2!Viking is a "god" of a small local server — he and Vintage were just admins, but they are considered gods pretty often, so it's fine. After pulling a prank on other admins (and their parents, who were probably some higher beings) they exiled them to a skyblock. They took faces of some mortals who, they believe, are already dead.

(If you think this is too complicated then don't worry I think so too and I do not know how to change that YET.)

Forgive me father for I have tried to save the trauma and accidentally created more problems for myself (I love them)

[moro-the-sun]

"I want to understand."

Tango has a crack in pink glasses — he looks tired, skewed. Martyn looks at him with a curious look, twice, he thinks — who cares what he wants to understand. Martyn doesn't understand much either. He arches an eyebrow in an interrogative gesture, leaning on a shovel, like on a cane.

“He said he was cursed,” Tango clarifies, and okay, he should have expected it, "I don’t understand. I want to understand."

Martyn blinks, returning to the shovel, which he drives deeper into the clay black earth. He asks, playing disinterest: "What makes you think that I know?"

Tango nervously moves his shoulders and sits on the threshold of their dog house. What a pest, and you won't get away with it — Martyn is not ready for this conversation, he generally did not undertake to explain anything for Jimmy.

He wonders, if Jimmy himself understands something in this?

"Weren't you friends with him? Like, even before the games?" Tango takes off his glasses, gnawing Martyn’s back with such a look that he feels it almost physically, "He told me about Evo. I think you should know something."

Martyn reluctantly stops and turns around, humbles Tango with his eyes again: in his Heart Foundations uniform he seems smaller than in his usual huge vest, and his fire only shyly cracks, obviously expecting any attack from Martyn. Here he is, damn him: he stretches himself on the palm, open and sincere, with one single question that doesn't let him sleep at night — Martyn knows, because he himself once had such a question. It can be seen that he despaired, that he does not know who to ask already, since he went into badlands to fall at the feet of the now lonely red. Curse Jimmy again for his talkativeness.

Okay, he has to leave a shovel.

Martyn pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Welp, listen."

He turns him into the house and sits him at the threshold, sitting opposite on the edge of the bed: a bright gesture that he is not going to do anything with Tango, giving an advantage in the form of a retreat. Now the conversation is serious, the conversation is not in games, but over them — Martyn dreamed of at least someone talking to him like that once, someone he knew, and not a thousand-eyed shit that looked like a demon of sleep paralysis. After all, Tango doesn't even understand how valuable such a gesture is, how much Martyn will now give him in one dialogue. He bites his lips, trying not to look back on the box: “You know Jimmy is a canary, don’t you?”

Tango bows his head, as if not quite realizing what the question is for, but nods in the affirmative: "He spoke about it."

“Of course,” Martyn confirms, “he spoke about it. This is his curse - the curse of the canary."

Tango does not understand, obviously, and he needs to gather his strength again, he needs to remember again what he once understood — when was it? Has awareness come with victory?

“The miners take the canaries with them because they constantly sing. Birds are much more susceptible to gas and pressure, and therefore, when they fall silent, it means it's time to leave."

Tango's face darkens. "What does this mean?"

Martyn wants to spit. That's what it means, why don't you understand?

“Jimmy is a canary,” he says as calmly as he can, “He dies first. He will always die first."

“Not this time,” is the obvious fact. Martyn nods, "Not this time. But it's not that important."

Silence. Tango tears a crack in the lens with nails, thinking about something, while Martyn tries to figure out how to explain it more clearly, how to embrace this topic a little more than "Jimmy does not see his own nose further, and therefore collects everything along the way cones."

“This is a warning,” he finally exhales, “his death means that the stage of the peace is ending, that everything is now too dangerous, and. . . Well, it's time to stop preparing for war and it's worth starting to fight. After his death, it becomes much more dangerous. Therefore, it doesn't matter if he died first or second: his function is not in the number, but in the alarm."

Tango looks up at him — pity oozes from his red eyes, and although its not towards Martyn, he feels anger gurgling inside. He has his own opinion about all this, even if it's none of his business.

“It’s cruel,” Tango says quietly, and in these words — love, endless and boundless, embracing with fire, a love that Martyn could neither know nor understand. He looks away. He closes his eyes.

“Yes,” he agrees, “But it’s merciful."

[moro-the-sun]

Let me tell you a story about the canary curse. Or, should I say, how it was broken. You already know the other part.

You see, in Secret Life, everyone had their secrets. There was a boy who wanted desperately to live — everyone knew that, it’s not really a secret. There was a girl who stopped breathing years ago — no one thought about it. Even if it was as obvious. So, what if they crossed paths? What if something happened?

She knew how to come back from the grave, of course she knew. She made him a funeral he never saw before, because he was always the first dead. She took his hand and put him in a coffin, she poured the soil and made everyone say their goodbyes. They were laughing at him. Not feeling sorrow, anything at all, really. And for a moment, a one moment in between breaths in and out, being scared, lonely and despaired, his heart skipped. one. beat.

And he was dead. For this moment, he died first — just like every other time, just as he should. But then, his friend got him out. And he saw the light. And he was alive.

System snapped. By trying to change everything as it was, it was only getting worse. The system looked in the eyes of the Dead, the most alive out of everyone, and at the bird in her hand. She was smiling, knowing, that she can do it again.

And the system gave up.