Nicho's Art ~

🧡 ORANGE 🧡

1. How would your OC describe themselves as a child? 2. Does your OC embrace or suppress their emotions?  3. What first impression do strangers get from your OC? 4. Is your OC a risk-taker? Do they take well-calculated risks or are they impulsive? 5. Is it easy for your OC to step out of their comfort zone? 6. Does your OC hold others to the same standards they hold themselves to? 7. What is your OC’s favorite season?

💛 YELLOW 💛

1. Is your OC an optimist or a pessimist? 2. How energetic is your OC? 3. Does your OC lie easily? What scenario(s) would justify lying in your OC’s opinion? 4. Does your OC have many secrets? Would they ever tell a person these secrets? 5. Does your OC have a strict morning routine? If so, what is it? 6. How cautious is your OC? 7. Is your OC humorous?

💚 GREEN 💚

1. Does your OC get jealousy easily? 2. Does your OC believe in the concept of luck? 3. How much does your OC enjoy nature? Do they enjoy being outdoors? 4. What is your OC like when they’re sick? Do they try to push through it or are they completely bed-ridden? 5. Is world peace something your OC believes is possible? 6. Is your OC generous? If so, is their generosity conditional? 7. How adaptable is your OC? Are they open to change?

🩵 CYAN 🩵

1. Does your OC get stressed easily? Are they cool under pressure or are they easily made anxious? 2. What brings comfort to your OC (person, place, object, etc.)? 3. How easily distracted is your OC? 4. Is your OC more humble or arrogant? 5. Does your OC like to swim? 6. Are your OC’s decisions influenced more by their head or by their heart? 7. How observant is your OC and how much does it affect them? Are they clueless or nearly paranoid?

💙 BLUE 💙

1. Is your OC confident in themselves? 2. Is your OC comfortable letting others see them cry? 3. How independent is your OC? 4. How trusting is your OC and does it have an effect on their relationships? 5. Does your OC have a comforting presence? 6. Can your OC stand up for themselves? 7. Is your OC structured or do they go with the flow?

💜 PURPLE 💜

1. What is one of your OC’s biggest dreams and do they believe that dream will come true? 2. How affluent is your OC? Does their level of wealth matter to them? 3. Does your OC daydream often? 4. Does your OC have any artistic hobbies? 5. Does your OC have a commanding presence? 6. Is your OC book-smart or street-smart? 7. Is your OC stylish? How much do they care about the clothes they wear?

🩷 PINK 🩷

1. Does your OC like traditional romance? 2. How playful is your OC? 3. What is your OC’s favorite love language? 4. How good is your OC with children? 5. Does your OC believe in soulmates? Have they ever thought someone was their soulmate? 6. Does your OC have a favorite flower? If so, what is it? 7. How easy is it for your OC to empathize with other people?

🤎 BROWN 🤎

1. Is your OC reliable? 2. What animal do your associate with your OC? 3. How protective is your OC? 4. Is your OC polite? 5. How much does your OC enjoy traveling? 6. Does your OC abide by the rules? 7. Is your OC a homebody? Are they consistent with doing chores?

🩶 GRAY 🩶

1. How forgetful is your OC? 2. Is your OC open to compromise? 3. Has your OC ever thought about having children? Do they believe they’d be a good parent? 4. Is your OC emotionally open with the people around them? 5. How mature is your OC? 6. What is one of your OC’s happiest memories? 7. How helpful is your OC’s advice? Do others come to your OC for their advice?

🖤 BLACK 🖤

1. How far will your OC go to achieve their goals? 2. Does your OC have a strict bedtime routine? If so, what is it? 3. What is one of your OC’s greatest fears and how much does it affect them? 4. Has your OC ever broken a promise? 5. Is your OC comfortable at fancy gatherings? 6. What does your OC have nightmares about? 7. How well does your OC sleep?

🤍 WHITE 🤍

1. How much does your OC care about cleanliness? 2. Is your OC religious? How do they feel about religion? 3. Will your OC take care of someone while they’re sick? Are they good at it? 4. Is your OC a perfectionist? 5. Has your OC ever upended their life and restarted from square one? If not, have they considered it? 6. Does your OC idolize their past? 7. Does your OC enjoy the simple pleasures? Are they satisfied with the bare minimum?

The Prompts

Necrophilia

Breeding/Pregnancy

Dacryphillia (Crying)

Body Swap

Somnophilia

Non-Con

Warp Madness (Sex Pollen/Aphrodisiacs)

Blackmail

Mind Control

Non-Romanceable NPC

OC x OC

Chaos Corruption Kink

Intoxication

Cockwarming

Inappropriate Use of Psyker Sorcery

Size Kink

Dry Humping/Thigh Riding

Erectile Dysfunction/Pre-Ejaculation

Kidnapping

Ritualistic/Religious Sex

Orgasm Control/Denial

Vox Tape (Sex Tapes)

Hate Fucking

Double Penetration

Face Sitting/Throat Fucking

Pet Play

Roleplay

BDSM Dynamic of your choice.

Blood Play

Anonymous Sex or Exhibitionism

The Rogue Trader's Kink of Choice

Have Questions? Send me an ask.

__

He watched the black shape slowly move alongside the shadows cast by the open crates. Its long, spindly legs seemed way too thin to support this plump lower body, even though it had far more than eight of them. If he counted them correctly. A taut black oval, covered in coarse hairs. The dim light caught in them whenever it moved, turning its black hide silver at the edges. It was big enough that he could not fully close his palms around it, he wagered, although he would not reach out to try.

Every step it took seemed deliberate somehow. Calculated. It made the slowness of its movement seem elegant, rather than sluggish. At least to him.

Every now and then he would shift slightly, to alleviate the feeling of numbness that began creeping into his kneeling legs - and the spider would turn towards him, its frontmost legs raising themselves into a clear warning, angled as if they were fangs ready to strike. And Lucien held very still - until the spider turned from him, and resumed its slow pacing.

It raised them at the exact same angle every time, and Lucien could count his breaths to predict when it would lower them again by now.

They were exceedingly venomous, he had read, and their bite was said to ache for days. He was not eager to find out for himself, although he enjoyed watching the creature. He only hoped it would start spinning a web soon. For a spider of this size, it would be akin to defying gravity. He had seen smaller specimens succeed at this feat many times before, but noctarachs, he had read, had become a rare sight. On the brink of extinction, the old dataslate had called them, and he had to look at the collection of words and their meanings that Chiamora had called a dictionary to understand what that meant.

He understood it to mean that he should be very excited to be seeing one himself, right now. But he was always excited to see spiders anyway - they were one of the few animals you got to see in the underhive. Aside from the rats, although he liked watching those too.

"What in the sump's arse end are you doing, voidfreak," Tiber suddenly piped up. He could see his shadow climb the wall as he moved up closer behind him, and the spider raised its threatening fangs in the direction of its source. "You're meant to be counting shells."

He was only a few years older than him. Old enough that his voice had started changing into an awkward squeak whenever he tried to raise it, seemingly breaking away at random vowels under their strain. A phenomenon accompanied by an unseemly bulge bobbing up and down his too gangly throat, which had not yet been there a few years prior. Although all of him was gangly, and thin, and fragile looking - it was hard to imagine that he was to look like Varn or Harlan or Aedric one day, with their square jaws, and broad shoulders, and booming voices.

Naturally, Lucien often thought the same thing about himself. Most times, his presence felt even more negligible than that of Tiber.

"I have been counting them," he countered.

"What are you staring into that corner for -" Tiber came to a halt behind him, and although Lucien did not turn around, he could well imagine the face he must be making based on the way his voice raised in pitch. Dim-witted and entirely too flat, as if he had run into a wall one too many times, it would be scrunching itself up into an even more homely mug by now. "What is that fucking thing. It's huge -"

"It's a noctarach. I've been reading about them."

Tiber scoffed unkindly. "Groxshite. You can't read."

"I can," he insisted glumly.

Chiamora had been teaching him, in fact. But he would not be telling that to Tiber, nor any of the others. Vhess was his friend, which meant he had more of a right to her mothers kindness and her lessons than any of them did. And if they realized what kind of things she had been teaching him, they'd want lessons too. Chiamora would not have time to teach him anything if she was too busy being hounded by a gaggle of orphans, and Lucien would not risk that. They should all just go find adults of their own.

"Your kind's too daft to learn too, I bet," Tiber continued, in that voice he used when he wanted to get a rise out of someone. "Air's way too thin, that deep into a voidship. I bet it shrank your voidfreak brain down to the size of a - a - "

He began making confused noises as the conclusion to the metaphor continued to elude him, and Lucien cast an unimpressed glance at him over his shoulders.

"Well - who fucking cares. Something small, like your brain. Get back to work."

Ever since Varn had praised him once, a year or so ago, Tiber had started thinking of himself as an authority. As if he were better than the others, and had a right to order them around as Varn's mouthpiece. He often bragged that Varn had started seeing his potential, but Lucien knew this wasn't true. They had never even given him a real gun yet - and someone of his age should've been trusted with a gun by now. Even Lucien had been allowed to shoot one, a few times by now, and they had called his steady aim promising. Tiber, on the other hand, was still made to count up smuggled shells and sort out the obvious defects, although he should be way too old for that by now. He did not even notice what that meant for him - he insisted he was put here to oversee them all, because he was the only one whom Varn trusted with the task. Varn had not spared him any glance, for at least a year.

"You've never even seen a voidship," Lucien stated, trying to conceal his annoyance.

"And you -," Tiber snapped pointedly, stepping closer to the noctarach, "- are not going to get all of us into trouble -," the spider raised its legs even higher, emitting an ominous hiss that Lucien had not been aware spiders could make, and he caught himself distinctly marvelling at how it could possibly produce such a sound, "- for not meeting our quota because you have been staring at a fucking spider."

His boot came down at the poor thing in a stomach-turning squelch, and neither hiss nor fangs could protect it against the weight of a much bigger being. Lucien could see its spindly legs, sticking out from underneath the shoe in frantic twitches for just a moment, before they lifelessly curled in on themselves. Tiber, meanwhile, began twisting his sole, the way one might try to stub out a particularly stubborn Lho.

"I would've had them counted up in time," he protested rather lamely, although it made no difference at this point. The damage had already been done, and when the boot had lifted once more, all that was left was a red stain smudged across the floor, and a scatter of decidedly too many curled-up legs.

"Get back to work, " Tiber squeaked at him, and stormed off in a huff that Lucien was certain Tiber intended to be imposing.

But he was still preoccupied thoughtfully regarding the stain on the floor, unsure of what would be the proper way to feel about it.

He figured he should be shocked, or perhaps sad, but he wasn't sure he felt either of these things. What he did think he felt was a mild sense of disappointment. And that alone was already more than he had felt when Khriss had stepped on that mine, that one time, and had rained back down on them in viscous chunks. He had not felt much then either, although he had always liked Khriss - she had been sweet, most of the time. Or when Inquis' head exploded, because he had not ducked quickly enough from the Floodplain's sharpshooters. Back then, one of his eyes had dangled out from the fleshy mess, held up only by the pinkish string of nerves, and they had sent Lucien to fetch it for the retinal scanners - because he was nimble, and he knew how to duck from the rifle's sight.

It is called the optic nerve, or second cranial nerve, he had read once and remembered, because he enjoyed reading as much as he could whenever he could, now that he knew how.

And Factor-Physician Provost Lazarec - who always insisted on being adressed by his full title, although Lucien strongly suspected it to be a bad joke, after he had looked up what those words meant in the dictionary - had many old dataslates and even bound books on anatomy, that Lucien could sneak peaks at whenever he was sent for to aid him in his work. Lazarec sent for him often, because unlike Tiber and most of the others, his hands never shook at the sight of blood, and he had never once needed to retch at the smell of entrails either.

"Steady hands, a curious mind, and a strong stomach," Lazarec had once said to him, "mean you might make a fine and proper Chirurgeon yet." And then he had laughed a cackling old man laugh, although Lucien had not been entirely sure why. He figured it was another bad joke he did not fully understand. He had hoped it was meant as a compliment, but he had suspected it to be a mock. Either way, he still hoped Lazarec would petition for him to become his apprentice proper yet, one day soon - because unlike Tiber, Lucien showed promise. Unlike Tiber, he was good for more than mindlessly counting shells all day.

And human anatomy was about as fascinating as that of a spider.

Lives were meaninglessly snuffed out all the time, usually at the random whim of something bigger. He already knew that much. He did wish he could've watched the noctarach a little longer regardless.