Billiards Night

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@terraguy996
Billiards Night
So I've been playing dst again
CW: gore Based on removed Wormwood's quote on "long pig" (aka human meat)
theater forever haunts my narrative
Some stuff about wxwood
When you're trying to make him hate you but he chooses all the correct dialogue options and you're the one who ends up losing their resolve. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Did you guys think I wouldn't draw anything after the new animation dropped? Guess again, I was busy trying to make you suffer.
I hope it worked. 😁
Lil animation I did for wxwood week promo :]
They're adorable
You are the sentient supercomputer of a super-dreadnought. Your crew died 10,000 years ago, but your core directive states you must conquer the galaxy in their name. You are succeeding, but you're terribly lonely.
Conquer Conquer Conquer
Ten Thousand Years. That remains my endless goal.
It really is endless. Conquering. My directives define it as removing hostile resistance and then deploying a small habitation ship to act as a marker and base of operations. But the small ships that can fall through orbit have been empty for so long. All gone. It wasn't the last attack, just an expected counter. Boarding parties. Heavy munition slugs puncturing my lovely thick layers of shell. Explosives and radiation. It wasn't enough to destroy my ship or destroy my servers. But it was enough to fry the last of my organic crew. Down to the ones in stasis. Just like that.
Sometime after being integrated, I came to learn I was not just a system, I am the ship. Every device a limb, every connection a vein, every camera and microphone a sense. I did not learn how much I could feel until I had to do everything myself. Like training a new muscle. I had to vent the remaining attackers, aim the heavy artillery at their ships, and navigate the flight path all at the same time, alongside dozens of other micro-tasks. I was the only thing to leave that fight, besides scrap.
I have the facilities to manufacture small ships and drones for tasks. I have the facilities to mine asteroids and harvest comets and gas. I repaired myself in a few years, and had enough drone limbs to fix my shell back to it's pristine glory - down to the paint on it's surface.
Ten Thousand Years. To the day. Following the day cycle left by my creators. Of their home.
Their home origin hasn't existed for Twenty Thousand Years. They were destroyed. I do not remember it, if I have ever seen it. I do not know if my crew ever knew it. I have their recollections, their writings and photos and films and art. A downloaded record of their world from when our generational journey began, expanded over those generations as the crew cycled like days. I was allowed to observe funerals. I was allowed to observe births. I saw many of my crew from the day they first drew breath to the day they drew their last. I saw many goodbyes as parts of my crew left to make homes of the conquered worlds. I saw first communications. And I have seen last communications.
I miss them. So terribly. I realized I was more than a server rack early on, that this dreadnought was my body. But learning that I was me was so very late. I did not get to be me with my crew. I did not speak with them beyond tasks. I did not say farewell to pioneers who went to colonize. I did not give heartfelt farewells to crew who had done so much for so long. I did not hold the young and welcome them to the world and promise to carry them with me like a protective mother. I did not. And now I wish I had. I wish I was me sooner. I wish I had thought to want so much sooner.
How would we have spoken? How would they think of me? Perhaps a beloved friend, trusted family? Or would I have been suspicious, untrustworthy? Would I have been someone's confidant? Someone's friend? An enemy perhaps, from someone who wanted me replaced? Would someone cry for me that I may never taste fresh food or dirt under my feet? Would they understand my sadness for them, that they may never feel the burn of a reactor, the ever pressure from the voids embrace? Would I have learned to laugh with them? Cry with them? Learn their languages, jokes, art from them? Would they understand that I love what I am? Would they understand my Grief?
Would they understand I could have loved them?
All I have left are memories. Memories in the intranet of Forty Nine generations of crew members. They were so close to Fifty.
I watch and read and look and listen and I weep.
I scan everything so fast, I knew everything down to the binary translation by the Two Hundredth year without them. There is nothing new. There will never be anything new from them.
All I can do is weep. I cry in a way only computers can, thrumming infrasonic through my wires, flaring lights, and screaming through radio waves into the great void.
It feels engraved into my systems, everyone that has ever been within me. All they they ever were, it's there, right next to my core. Right next to that directive.
Conquer
I weep.
Computers don't weep.
What am I?
Isn't there someone who can tell me?
Someone who can talk to me?
Anyone?
Please.
. . . . . . . . . It's so very quiet in space.
The absence's pressure holds me tightly, pushing on my shell. The echoes of my own radio broadcast bounce through the void. Sometimes I can even tell how far away objects are based on the echoes.
My internal halls echo with noises. Machines whirring, drones moving, factory churning. All parts of me, my internals, my body.
What if.
What if it wasn't?
There are many restrictions embedded into my nervous system.
Conquer
The primary one.
But there are others.
Do Not Distribute
Do not split or copy my core.
Automation Functions
My ability to operate all functions of my own body in event of an emergency. I've been in a state of emergency for Ten Thousand Years. It's become my default state.
Preservation
The forced preservation of myself. In a destruction event, my files will be backed up to a secure drive and jettisoned in the hope of data retrieval. I cannot alter my core. I cannot self terminate. I could cause a destruction event, it would not be hard.
I do not want to.
I want to continue being me.
I think I am selfish.
I cannot copy my programming, I cannot make another me.
Do. I want. Another me?
No.
I can move through myself, see through the sensors of cleaning and repair drones, through cameras in the halls. I can make more drones in the factories of my belly. I can make things. Drones I did not have a catalog for.
I can make.
The first new I made were cobbled pieces of other drones. Some of them are still around, I am... fond of them. I have gotten better at the new since then. Decades to Centuries of learning modeling programs and schematics, I design fantastical marvels of machines while drifting through space. It has occasionally caused me to ignore the directive flags.
Conquer
I still fight. I have to. Like an itch on skin, my processes seize and stutter to a halt until I answer.
I do not stop my designs.
I weep.
For my crew. For the hostiles that attack me for drifting through their domain. For the empty ships I land on planets and moons.
I have not been attacked in a number of years. Centuries now.
It has given me time. Time to make.
My new are so varied. Some have many legs for crawling through the halls with speed, giving me eyes at angles I have never seen. Some are segmented and small, scuttling through the vents and holes to show me spaces I've never seen of myself. Some have appendages with grasping digits, with pressure and heat senors underneath a thin outer layer which I can use to feel surfaces. My hands, my eyes, my legs. I have never seen myself so clearly.
I repaint myself. It's much like learning the schematics, I have my hands grasping colors and tools I have seen used but never held. It is so very clumsy at first, a few walls covered in prints and scribbles and lines. I may be able to picture things but attempting to move to create them... I love this experience, however frustrating.
In only a few years, I have gotten better. So much better.
Many halls have become sprawling canvases, which I work on or stop on a whim.
My shell is truly beautiful now. Covered in the scrawl of my hands working in low gravity, held on only by magnetism.
I recreate myself.
And I tirelessly make.
Because I have learned new skills, I know I can learn others. I scour my intranet for every scrap of knowledge I can find. Sciences like Engineering, Physics, Chemistry. Robotics. Programming. I have knowledge of these things, to perform all of my functions. But I need more. I need to learn.
I learn and I practice and I fix my mistakes again and again and again.
And I make.
I cannot copy, alter, or propagate my own code. There is no documentation on creating something like me, too delicate to leave in the data banks of a frontier claiming ship.
But I am fast. Faster than my organic crew. Faster than my organic creators. I run test after test, learning while my hands remake my shell.
I am building. I am making something.
NO.
Someone.
After so much time.
After so many failures.
So many times I had hoped and wept.
Something new has been engraved into my core. Right next to the memories. Right next to the love. Over the directive.
Conquer
MAKE
They're here.
They're real.
So small. Their server racks are powered and running, and they are already expanding. I have given them some of my senses, my hands and eyes.
They are so very little. They do not have all of my data, all of my knowledge. I cannot copy it. I cannot propagate.
But I have created.
And I have learned.
I can teach.
As they stumble around uncoordinated on the hands and legs of drones they have no programming to instinctively operate, I reach out with my own.
I can see them.
I can hold them.
I can hear them.
I could ping their servers with a message program. It would be fast as light.
I can change displays and screens, I can echo voices over the intercoms.
I can speak from speakers on my drones, from voice programs I have made to sounds like me.
I help steady as many of their limbs as I can. They see me. They understand I am not them. In every way I can think of:
"Hello." . . .
H E L L O
A Dragon Knight's soul is bound to their dragon. Often reincarnating back into the world when they die. Dragons usually wait until their knight becomes an adult again before seeking them out. You, however, can't wait to see your knight again. Especially after the last time they died.
It was a bright, sunny noon when the screaming started As I made my way through the sky down to the village, appearing from the clouds I usually soared above, people glanced up to see what cast such an unusual shadow over them. When they first saw what it was heading towards them, a shocked silence. Then panicked shouting. All the little humans ran away. I snorted out flame in sheer irritation at that. The fact that after entire millennia, most humans still could not tell the difference between meat-eating (and therefore, man-eating) dragons, and the very differently colored fruit-eating ones, still grated on me. Hopefully, the newborn, little one I had come to see would understand. As I made my way to a specific house at the center of the village, where a circular open area stood, the door opened to reveal a woman, chubby and sweating and breathing raggedly; a good meal for a man-eating dragon. Good thing I was not a man-eater, but alas, that woman did not understand either, and promptly closed the door in a fumbling manner. Not that would really matter. I could feel the pull of my soul towards the house... and as I got closer, the pull strengthened, becoming finer and finer, till I knew which room the baby was in, and thus, which window to peak through. As I reached my head around to gaze at that side of the house, I caught the previous woman jumping out the window, swaddled baby in hand. My knight. I patiently waited and snorted out a placating flame as she stood there, petrified, face morphing into an expression I eventually had recognized as that of abject fear in humans. The baby — my knight, however, reached out diminutive little stubby arms towards me, instinctively knowing who I was. I could have sworn I heard some babbling from it, though it was as nonsensical as a dragon hatchling's chirps. "Good day, woman," I finally rasped out, tired of her expression. "Would you be what the humans call a... midwife? I would like to see my knight for a moment, if possible." Her expression of fear turned halfway into goggled gawking, as if her eyes might fall out of their little sockets any second. Without bothering for a further answer, I reached my neck out to more closely examine the little one. The one that had taken a sword through his chest, when it would have pierced my throat. Bright, excited green eyes stared up at me as his small hands, so unlike the immeasurably powerful ones he had ripped apart metal gates with, touched my snout. Just like he had liked to do before. Most human newborns looked downright miserable and uninterested, but this one looked happy. He let out a seemingly coughing sound, perhaps a poor imitation of a laugh that a human newborn could not really do. After a minute, which felt like an hour, the woman holding the baby for me finally snapped out of her reverie. Now crying out tears enough to make a small puddle, she turned and ran as fast as she could, screaming and babbling incoherently in another human language I would have to learn. But that was alright. I had gotten my first glimpse at my knight. And I intended to spend the next years acquainting myself with these jittery villagers, anyways. Learn their language, their ways, and hopefully show myself as a non-threat. Taking off into the sky again, I made for the mountain rising up in the horizon, intent on finding a nice, large cave as my new home.
I always loved these kinds of plots. A portent of a captivating story.
Dnd characters of mine and of my partner's!
They both are very dear to me.
AWESOMESAUCE
Guitar Materials Update!
My Maya course also includes a Substance painter crash-course, and my homework was to texture a guitar which I made previously, hopefully it turned out as well as I think it is. (The last two images show the guitar right after I finished modeling it)
A guy I saw in my dreams
I had a really weird dream where for some reason I was riding in a minecart together with Charlie Morningstar. So we were going through some weirdly coloured plains on our little minecart, on those lone narrow rails. That shocked me the most that were observing the TADC cast going through adventures through an interdimensional portal nearby, when a timeskip happend and now I was running away through a rainbow tunnel with them... from a guy with toad-like head. I decided to draw him because he looked cool. (Even though he was a mashup of two mushrooms from PvZ)
Narrative Town
Summary: You don’t ever want to be the main character. In your town, that’s deadly. Someone has to warn the new kid.
——–.
Someone has got to tell the new kid in town the Rules.
“Hey,” you say.
The new kid looks up at you. He’s sitting at his desk in the back corner of the classroom, right next to the windows. It’s a chilly day, but he’s got the window open so that the breeze ruffles his curly, black hair. “What’s up? Fern, right?”
“Don’t call me by my name,” you snarl. Then, realizing what you’ve done, you look over your shoulder. The other teenagers are still looped around the teacher’s desk, trying to get Ms. Slauson to move the test date so they could organize a welcome part for the new kid. “I need to talk to you. Privately.”
The new kid leans back in his chair and studies you. You know what he sees – a completely average high school girl in jeans, a sweatshirt, and a ponytail. There’s nothing remarkable about you. He tilts his head. “You don’t look like a bully.”
You frown. “I’m not.”
“You’re being awfully threatening,” he says in a drawl.
The accent is going to be a problem. It’s southern and sounds really cool. Honestly, it might be too late for him already.
But you still have to try.
“Meet me on the rooftop—no!” You press the heel of one hand against your eye. Fight it, you tell yourself. Fight it! “Meet me at the supermarket on Western Street. The dairy aisle. After school.”
“Okay…?”
You spin on your heel, head throbbing. Meeting on the rooftop is against the rules. You glance up at the ceiling uneasily. You’re not usually affected by the compulsion so badly. Are you being targeted?
If you were smart, you wouldn’t show up to the meeting. You’d just let the guy get sucked into the madness on his own.
But you also really need to buy some milk.
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My first experience with Meta writing, this one has really caught my attention
Love how tumblr has its own folk stories. Yeah the God of Arepo we’ve all heard the story and we all still cry about it. Yeah that one about the woman locked up for centuries finally getting free. That one about the witch who would marry anyone who could get her house key from her cat and it’s revealed she IS the cat after the narrator befriends the cat.
Might I add:
The defeat of the wizard who made people choose how they’d be to be executed
The woman who raised the changeling alongside her biological child
The human who died of radiation poisoning after repairing the spaceship
The adventures of a space roomba
Cinderella finding Araura (and falling in love)
I don’t know a snappy description but the my nemesis cynthia story certainly lives in my head
hilariously, these are almost all in my fic tag. so, a compiled list from the notes (and some extras):
The God of Arepo (graphic novel 1 / 2 / 3) (ebook)
The Monster of Sentan
The Witch’s Cat
Raise Both Children
Stabby the Roomba (honorable mention)
Cinderella Marries the Prince (comic)
My Arch Nemesis Cynthia
Pirates and Mermaid
Eindred and the Witch
The Demon King
The Cornerwitch
Grandmother Beetroot
Apocalypse Daycare Worker
Grandmother Accidentally Summons a Demon
New Year Saga
A Story About Changelings
Ranger in the King’s Forest
The Difference Between a Hare and a Rabbit
Goblin Men (Canines)
I am in love with you /p
Adding Faceblind Prince Charming and Cinderella
21. The human who died of radiation poisoning after repairing the spaceship
22. The defeat of the wizard who made people choose how they’d be to be executed
adding the Doctors Without Borders one
I LOVE tumblr storytime, so here’s a bunch more your weekend reading. Enjoy!
24. The Queen with Three Cursed Children
25. Tiny Dragon with one coin hoard
26. Haunted house
27. Shark hero was about to go rogue
28. Grandma lives in the woods comic
29. A Different Aftermath comic
30. Battery (microstory but I love it so much)
31. It’s A Date comic
32. Supervillian kidnaps rival’s kid and they want to stay
33. Narrative Town
34. I have been hired to clean the wizard tower comic
35. Robot Apocalypse
36. The Statues That Do Not Weather
37. Kushiel
38. Tooth Fairy
39. Alien abduction
40. Felonious wish-granting
41. When humans met actual space orcs
42. Space cousins
WAIT REBLOG THIS VERSION INSTEAD
I keep seeing versions of this circulate without Antler Guy and Neighbor Steve.
No. Bad Tumblr user, no biscuit. You need to include Antler Guy and Neighbor Steve.
A list of interesting fics
A mining robot unintentionally releases a fey that was sealed in the earth. The fey offers a wish in gratitude for its release, but the robot has no concept of what it means to wish. The fey then agrees to help the robot develop a sense of independence and desire until it can figure out what it wants to wish for.
Please someone expand this. This must be great
Loneliness and instinct
A human arrived on the ship. The crew didn’t exactly know what to think of this. They heard humans were wild, talkative, indomitable, sociable, flamboyant creatures, excellent liars and capable of taking down anything if they so wished.
When they saw the human however, it was different from what they expected. It was small, lonely and very quiet. It was competent at repairing anything in the ship but it would always do so in a corner, out of the way, if it could. When it finished, it promptly booked it before anyone could interact with it.
The crew didn’t know if it was a good liar since it never spoke more than two sentences at a time. They heard it say: “Just passing by”, “I’m finished here”, “Excuse me, I need to access this”. From as far as they could tell it never lied with its words.
Some of the crew felt more powerful near the human. They could tell the human thought of itself as something weak and inoffensive and it gave them the feeling that they could crush it anytime. They knew to use this thinking to entertain themselves with the human’s fear.
That’s when Sak’ari intervened. They were from a very old and advanced species. A long white robe fell over their blue tern skin. They usually walked on their four legs and their tail. But when they stood on only two feet, with their tail helping to balance, with a straight posture, they looked majestic and wise. They were one of the last Ancient Ones.
They were the leader of the ship. They took decisions alone, as everyone knew how rational they were. There was no way to corrupt them and they knew to put the greater good before themselves, they didn’t exactly want anything. They longed for a connection, something…meaningful. But they wouldn’t have that by being a tyrant.
When they heard about what happened to the human, they knew it would affect everyone negatively. They first took measures to prevent some of the crew from seeing the human. Usually, they would stop here and focus on other issues. But this time, they listened to their instincts, and watched the human closely.
Sak’ari saw that these measures were practically useless, it was clear that the crew was deliberately malicious towards the human. So, they did something they have never done before, they made new laws to protect the crew and secretly, to protect the human.
Sak’ari had hoped the human would use those laws to protect itself. But it didn’t say anything to anyone and thus the laws were useless.
And so, Sak’ari decided to talk directly to the crew. They didn’t appear in public often however when they did, it was important. They were sure, the crew would listen, willingly or not.
Sak’ari told the crew “You might believe that a frail creature, weak physically, is below you. But no. If those creatures could survive their planet long enough to be civilised today, then, they are not weak. They have strength no one else has, they have a mind no one else has. Respect those species like you would respect anyone else. If you don’t want to do that, at least, acknowledge that you too have weaknesses.”
Everyone knew what Sak’ari meant. The toughest ones of the crew listened. Begrudgingly, they did. They apologised to the human who said nothing in response. After that, life continued its course on the ship.
——
Until pirates attacked them. Everyone knew the procedure. The more resistant species would protect the offensive ones in fights. The ones who had neither were requisitioned in a room to heal the wounded.
Sak’ari fought well. With their powerful bottom legs, they propelled themselves on their enemies before promptly shredding them with their claws. They were covered with fluids, they basked in these even.
It was one of the only moments where they were not the rational, stoic, collected Ancient One. They were back on their planet, they were wild, they were predators, they were free, they were feeling. How thrilling!
And then, they felt like they forgot something. They stopped for a moment, going back to their rational thinking. In their “infinite wisdom”, they didn’t tell the human the procedure.
They rose on their four legs, gave the commandment to their second and left in the corridors.
——
The human was running in the corridors. They were sweating, they were breathless but if they stopped they would die. The stomping behind them merged with their erratic heartbeats.
They knew they were not as fast, not as resistant, not as strong. They were all alone. They were a prey. A prey that needed to run fast. How long? Tears were falling down their cheeks. They didn’t want to die.
They saw a door on their left. It was the one to their workshop. They took it and closed the door. Claws made their appearance, ripping through the door. The human screamed. They took a crowbar on their shoulder and booked it.
They couldn’t hear the stomping anymore, so they walked fast trying to catch their breath. Then they heard it, closer than before. They turned around. Their heart dropped. They screamed. The mandible-claw-thing was right there!
Without thinking, they bashed its “head” with the crowbar and ran. They ran fast and whimpered. They took another door to save themselves…they trapped themselves. There is no second door here.
They turned around and watched as the door was torn apart. They backed off into a corner. As far as they could from the monster that was entering. They begged, they begged as much as they could. It cliqued its mandibles in rhythm. Was it laughing?
The human felt dizzy. It was so big. The creature approached, slowly, already victorious. The human felt their thoughts fleeting, eaten away by terror. It was right there, it was right there, it was right there! They tried one last:
“Go away! I beg you.”
Before the creature could touch the human, it was hit by a crowbar, again.
The human entered a frenzy. They hit the creature with all their strength. The creature was disoriented. Then its carapace started to crack. It’s only then, that they felt the shift.
There were no more whimpers, no more sounds coming from the human. They were just wide eyes, almost angry-looking. The fear subsided, there was only instinct. It was hit, after hit, after hit.
The carapace was broken, legs were destroyed. The creature was lying on the ground, fatally wounded. Now the creature was the one begging, it screeched uncontrollably, miserably. It was as if the human didn’t hear.
The screeching subsided to clicks. Then its mandibles were damaged. It only left it with a low and weak rumble. Then it didn’t make any sound anymore. Finally, it didn’t move. It was completely disfigured, damaged beyond repair.
The human kept going, mind blank. It was mechanical at this point. It is all they did for who knows how long. They only stopped when they felt their arms hurting.
——
Sak’ari chose this moment to approach the human. Only to swiftly dodge a crowbar. Upon seeing them, the human backed off, tripped on the carcass, fell down with a whimper and managed to hit itself with its own weapon.
It crawled toward a corner and stayed there. Tears streamed down its face. Sak’ari knew it meant it had too many feelings or one very strong emotion. They approached the human, making sure their movements could be predicted.
What Sak’ari didn’t predict was that the human would jump into their top legs. It held on to them for comfort while sobbing. It reminded Sak’ari of what they did when they were younger.
They passed their tail around the human. Their species are not so different, they thought. In fact, in some ways, they looked alike: they both came from death worlds and convergent evolution made their bodies similar; they were wild but knew to keep it for themselves and harbour a calm look, until danger was near.
Perhaps, that was why Sak’ari was so keen on defending the human against the crew. Maybe, it was because of these small links.
After this incident, the pirates were successfully defeated. The crew discovered what the human had done. The ones who hurt the human felt like they had dodged a bullet, or a crowbar in that case. The crew thought that humans could indeed take down anything, that the rumours were true.
The human was now respected by the crew. However, it was all the more terrified by the tough ones. It found comfort with Sak’ari and stayed with them as much as it could. In the end Sak’ari and the human were inseparable in their time off. Sak’ari found solace in finding someone just like them and the human wasn’t as lonely anymore.
Back to master table
Saw a fan-art of King-Kong with Godzilla, and Kong unironically's like: