#Nerb OCs

[nerbs-the-word]

Oh yeah I'm like, actually working on like, a Youtube series set in my sci-fi world. It isn't primarily focused on g/t but it will have some elements in it, I'll be sure of it

I'll be sure to keep you lot posted because I'm sure you all will like it :)

I'm actually posting this so people can occasionally yell at me for like, not working on it.

[ao3feed-izuku-midoriya]

Erased Existence

Erased Existence by Anonymous Nerb

A broken reality fic with some existential horror/lovecraftian

Words: 453, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Major Character Death

Characters: Midoriya Izuku, also MIdoriya Izuku?, random unnamed OC that's there for 2 seconds

Additional Tags: Psychological Horror, Broken Reality, I genuinely have no clue how to tag so ima fake it till I make it, Human Experimentation (not explicit)

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25991155

[9000-hal]

i find it cool that you're transitioning your hal from an fgo oc to an 2001aso hal. not that fgo isnt cool, but i really like your hal and now i feel like ill understand him better! anyway good job mate!

[[ Yeah I figured him being a fanservant in this account would confuse a lot of people because fanservants are like...they are the character, but with a twist that more often than not may conflict with their story! So people surely would get weirded out at some point ffFFT

I mean, as a fanservant HAL would essentially be a user of magic. Which is y u p

So now he’s uhhh slightly different Android AU?? Something like that. I’ll figure something out.

No more magic for this nerb now it android time.

I’ll keep his anime boy face though y’all will have to deal with his stupid bowlcut forever ]]

[bun-bie]

My among us oc is almost done uwu

I'm still fixing some stuff but they're design is practically done :D

Their name is Nerb, cause that's the same name I go by online. And the same name i play with in the game

I was gonna add a long tail but I ended up scrapping that idea and instead went with a small puffy tail. Which I will show in another picture much better cause I forgot to draw much of it

I can't seem to be able to properly draw the horns so im trying to adjust them in a different position. Should they stay on the side how I have them in the first few sketches? Or should I make them protrude up like I have on the last pic and upper half of the 3rd pic?

The horns reminded me of a goat, so her tail is goat like as well. Once I'm completely done with the design I'll post a full pick of them!

These last two pics are from a friend who was helping me design my oc, they don't have Tumblr so I can't @ them unfortunately.

[foxglovecove]

My OC Lt. Gabrielle Lebeau as featured in @bigdamnproject ‘s Witch Nerbs story. She works for the Department of Extranormal Circumstances. She’s seen...Things. #witch #furry #furries #detective #mystery #ghosts #magic https://www.instagram.com/p/Bt-MNQnFyXp/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=k3mm45xp1yf

[invincigirl]

👀 + "Rose, if you could do it with no consequences, who would you smooch?"

"No... Co-Consequences?? Well..." cue a blushing science nerb... "I would kiss Juneau... she's too da-damn cute not to. But, f-for intimacy... I have a... uh.. to pick Ms. Sakura..." Rose confessed as she nibbled on her lithe pointer finger. "I... I guess y-you can say, that... I ha-have a crush, on the blue-haired doctor... her ruby red eyes... just He-Heavenly... we have... chemistry."FLOP!!!((Great job, Rose has literally fainted with hearts in her eyes. I better get the smelling salts. Thanks to @sugimoto-dorm for allowing me to mention their OC, Dr. Sakura Ishimura, MD.))

[nerbs-the-word]

OC Intro - Eights + Briggs

Hey y'all, haven't written anything in a few days (Been enjoying my long weekend), but glad to see I've been kinda growing. Likes and follows make the Nerb brain chug like the machine I am.

So anyway, new OCs, new short story. Once again, asks are open for questions/comments or constructive criticism if you have any. Just one last FYI, their full names are Sgt. Ashley "Eights" Pierce and Col. Sandra Briggs. Eights is they/them, and Briggs is she/her. Sorry for any confusion!

This story does take place in my worldbuilding project! Pixies be upon thee!

This does feature military themes, guns, blades, violence, gore, drug use and some 'colorful' language, so if any of those things upset you, please don't continue reading for your own mental health. And if you're not sure, please feel free to stop reading at any time if you feel uncomfortable.

STRIKE AT ZERO HOUR

WITH OVERWHEALMING FIREPOWER

THEY'RE FUELED BY THE FEAR

IN THEIR ENEMIES' EYES

ITS A SHOCK TROOP INFILTRATION

A FAST AND VIOLENT ESCALATION

OUT OF THE TRENCHES...

"The stormtroopers rise." the voice finishes as the intense metal music in the background blares, bass thumping in their ears. Emitting a muffled grunt under the several pounds of metal atop their head, the hefty marine slams their breaching axe down, sending a spray of blood the color of moldy bread across their Mythbreaker armour.

Eights slams their boot into the chest of the Other, and using their mechanically augmented hands, pulls free their axe. Their metallic hands, themselves the size of dinner plates, make the bladed weapon in their hands look tiny; even if it is a bulky tool for the average foot soldier. An average man would require two hands to deal any damage with it; Eights can use it in one, and a shotgun in the other.

"Welcome to the 25th century, dumbass" They sarcastically mutter under their breath with a seething rage in their voice. A quick slam of their metal boot and a crunch of bone confirms that the alien isn't getting back up off the floor.

Hunting remnants of these stupid extraterrestrials has been getting old to the young marine. It's been five months since the end of the war, and here they were, being dragged around Known Space to every hulk, ship or station suspected to have an Other aboard. But yet again, after Operation Ragnarök, they didn't have much else to do other than tune the suit's motors and clean their guns. These battles weren't even exciting anyway, the Others always fell back on melee weapons; meaning they were perfect fuel for-

"Sergeant!" Exclaims a familiar authoritative voice from the doorway behind them.

As if by muscle memory, Eights turns to face the figure, their hand pressed against their forehead in a neat and orderly salute. Their posture was as perfect as a marine could get in the bulky armour they wore.

"Yes, ma'am!" They aggressively yell back, every fiber of their voice screaming respect and a sense of duty.

The colonel looks across the room, their diminutive frame being held in the hand of some poor private. While she had a stoic look on her face, the private's face went pale.

The room was stained in blood. Every wall was covered in some sort of bodily fluid in some unnatural, inhuman color. Extraterrestrial corpses littered the room, many with massive tears across their bodies, others riddled with bullet holes. Some still flickered with fire, smoldering silently in the room. It reeked of death, blood, ash, and gunpowder.

"At ease, sergeant." Briggs responds, and as if by command, the hulking, ten foot tall figure before her relaxed their stiffened frame, using the opportunity to pick up a large rotary cannon on the floor. The chest cavity of one of the targets gives resistance, but with a whir of the trigger, the barrel cluster is able to mutilate the innards enough to rip it out with a disgusting squelch.

"Ship's clear." The marine responds as they affix the cannon to their back.

"I noticed. Private, pass me off to the sergeant, please. Then report to your lieutenant."

The still-shaken private nods swiftly, quickly passing the tiny colonel into the metallic gauntlet of the heavily-armed stormtrooper, like a bug into the mouth of a waiting lion. And while pulling their hand back towards their chest, they swiftly leave the room, as silently as they walked in.

It did dawn previously on the colonel that Eights could easily turn her to mincemeat like they do so easily and so willingly to anything the Republic deems dangerous. Pirates, terrorists, Blue Angel cultists, and now the Others. The difference is that Eights respects authority.

"Ma'am, 34 dead, 5 captured. The survivors have locked themselves in what I assume to be the armoury." The sergeant replies, lifting the tiny colonel to be at eye level. Their helmet was menacing; more machine than person. Covered in valves, with a hose running from the mouthpiece to the chest, every breath was accompanied by a whir, and every word echoed inside the hermetically sealed suit.

"Good." The colonel responds with a nod.

"And I'm ready to-" The sergeant begins, before being cut off.

"No. You're dismissed. Rest up, and meet me in my office tomorrow morning at 0600. We need to talk.

_

"Pierce, I'm worried for your health." The colonel continues, pacing back and forth behind her desk. With the sergeant looming over her, it looked like she wasn't in command here. But she, and Eights, both knew the truth. She outranked them.

Eights crossed their pale arms across their chest. They felt naked, missing the second skin the mechanized armour served as.

"So what?" They exclaim dismissively, their emerald green eyes staring downwards at their commanding officer.

"So what?!" Briggs yells back, the sudden aggressiveness catching the battle-hardened and grizzled marine off guard. "That shit, that fucking concoction, that *Flux*-"

Flux. She spat the word like it was a curse. Some combat drug brewed up by the battalion stranded on Taurus-4 during their deployment. Before Eights was placed under her command.

"You're smart enough to know what it'll do to you." She finishes with a disappointed sigh.

"What I put in my body is my business. It helps me get work done, ma'am." They finally reply after a moment of silence.

A moment of silence that returned to the air, deafening, blinding, choking. Horribe in every regard.

But finally, with a deep breath, Briggs spoke again, her commanding voice easily heard despite her small size.

"I didn't want to, Pierce. But I'm ordering you. You will report to the ship's medical team, and you will seek treatment for your addiction. Understood?"

"Yes ma'am..."

_

[nerbs-the-word]

OC INTRO - Pebble

Thought I'd share my first OC here, because I was bored. Pebble is a D&D character that I play in my friend's campaign, and she occupies my heart. Short story under the cut :) If you have any questions, comments, concerns, crises, conundrums or calamities, I'd love to hear them. Or even just constructive criticism helps too, I'm always looking to improve.

A thud; more of a slapping noise, rang from the cool cobbles as Pebble's bare feet touched down on the streets of New Hoshar. Her face; half obscured by tightly wound cloth that stretched from her forehead to across the bridge of her nose, was warmed by the rising morning sun; a feeling Pebble grew to love. Her rough, calloused hands gripped the side of the small apothecary as she took in her surroundings; calls of 'good morning!' rang in her ears, the smells of freshly baking bread permeated her nostrils. And a tug at her hair gave more information; the visual kind. OTHER - LEFT - RIGHT - BUSY - GATHER - FOOD - SAFE Pebble nodded, signaling back to her Chwinga companions with her hand, knowing they could see it even without line of sight; they were unusual like that. Magical, like Scoria was. YES - WAIT - CHECK - DANGER She directed her focus over towards 'left right', which was what would be called a 45 degree angle by anyone of the 'civilized' world. A steady clicking; a sound she associated with footwear on stone. Someone was walking somewhere. DANGER - GONE That one almost stung with how violent the ragdoll-sized elemental creatures pulled. The young earth genasi woman was tempted to give them a piece of her mind, but they were right. A growl of discontent emanated from her abdomen, and she knew she would have to go find something to eat that her larger companions would find objectionable. And Pebble knew they were picky; seabirds and discarded food were perfectly edible, they just refused to eat it. Bread it was. Those thoughts were pushed to the back of her mind as, following a deep breath in, a burst of unnatural speed overtook her, bolting from the alleyway she was stalking her prey in. Her chest rose and fell with each step forward, affixed exclusively on the prospect of breakfast. And as soon as her bout of speed started, she skidded to a stop, silent as a fox. Her hand quickly danced between all the aromatic baked goods before her palm, the sudden decision overwhelming the young woman, before she swiped down, felt the warm crust in her grasp, and dashed once again, back where she came from. A soft sigh of relief escaped her lips as she put the roll between her teeth; realizing now that her hand was horribly sticky. An unknown, vicious substance was running across her hand, likely from the confectionary she had just stolen. A smell of her hand, and then a taste, revealed that not only was this safe to eat, but it tasted extremely good to a set of taste buds accustomed to smoked meat and foraged greens. Sweet, subtly earthy and warm. One last deep breath was enough to get her to jump up, her fingertips digging into the masonry beneath them as she began a climb. It was harder than a rocky outcropping or a tree, not having any handholds, but it was doable. With a grunt, she pulled her upper body onto the tiled roof, her slender legs soon following. And once again she was bathed in the light of the morning sun, feeling its warm rays dance across her face. Even the bottom of her legs were kept at a cozy temperature as the tiles under them warmed in the light. She took a hold of the baked good the people she stole it from would call a cinnamon roll in her mouth, and bit down, ripping the chunk out like a feral animal. A small smile of contentment and satisfaction crossed her face; the survivalist survives yet another day. Accompanying her would be a swarm; a horde of her friends; dozens of dark silhouettes with white masks. These figures climbed, sat, and lounged across the much larger body of Pebble, themselves already tuckered out from the morning's activities. She'd let them rest for now, even if they wanted to sprawl out in her hands, spilling between her fingers like water through a sieve. She'd be wanted back at the inn by Scoria later in the day, but for now, she would enjoy her hard-earned meal, and the sunrise.

[nerbs-the-word]

I have been playing an *unhealthy* amount of Space Station 14 lately and so... here they are.

Finnigan McBarclay and Molly Flamecoat, the former played by a stranger and the latter by me. They accidentally fit the minigiant vibe so it's great. She's a radio host, he's a part-time prisoner and a part time doctor. They make it work.

Asks open, and stuff. Also screw perspective, genuinely, it sucks

The next two have blood so be careful...

[nerbs-the-word]

Fuck it, I'm proud of this. Space Station 14 art. Because I love this game and I've been having fun roleplaying in it. WAY better than text stuff imho

And also I love the arting... I am just not confident... mnnnn...

(Free on Steam, join DeltaV, enjoy)

[nerbs-the-word]

So... TTRPG, huh?

If I had a nickel for every TTRPG character I made that ended up having vague g/t vibes, I'd have three nickels, which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened thrice. So firstly is Pebble, the Swarmkeeper Ranger, who I have introduced before, with her little cadre of elemental buddies that live in her clothes. Very nice g/t stuff there that I occasionally bring into the game (But not often as to not be obnoxious) Before Pebble came Karthu Paperkut, the Kobold Artificer, who was about 2'3, and rode around on the barbarian's back. She LOVED blowing stuff up, and the suit of power armour she eventually got ahold of to use in order to carry the monk around. And then, most recently is Val, who I made for a Mutants and Masterminds game, who has a combat robot twice her height. Granted it isn't the most fluffy thing in the world since this robot spouts American propaganda (Think like the worst parts of Soldier from TF2, the stereotypical US military drill sergeant, and the combat robots in the later Fallout games), but it's great to just have this petite engineer refer to the robot as 'big guy' and give it a big thumbs up after a job well done. I really need to learn to make NORMAL characters, huh? Any of y'all D&D players have g/t-ish characters? Am I the only one?

[nerbs-the-word]

I love making my OCs suffer, I am a cruel and unforgiving god.

You will have your character development, and you will LIKE IT

[nerbs-the-word]

Engineers

I just love the idea of tiny tinkerers, builders, inventors, and engineers. Either building stuff at their own scale, or at one much larger than themselves. Professionally trained with skill and knowledge comparable to that of their larger counterparts, or just having developed a sense for it after failures and catastrophes. OC tag because I may or may not have a character that fits this description to a certain degree that I have yet to introduce.

[nerbs-the-word]

I love my friend asking me how a borrower would react to meeting me because I would be a bloody nightmare.

Imagine you're like, 5 inches tall, and you know the guy who lives outside the walls is pretty chill. He has Lego sets on his nightstand, talks in funny voices to himself, is neat, tidy, pretty nice.

And when you finally get to SEE him, it's like 4 AM, and you see this guy walking around, a full 6'2" machine, fairly physically fit, able to stand on his feet all day. And now imagine that human is holding an AR-15 (Granted it IS airsoft but you don't know what an airsoft is, you're a borrower for this thought exercise) and fidgeting with it like it's a toy. Saying something like "I'm gonna f*cking kill you" in a mediocre Australian accent.

For a g/t fan, I'm not the most approachable to any borrowers that may or may not exist.

Also yeah, first post. I'm Nerb. Maybe I'll write something. Maybe I'll show you guys my OCs. We'll see.

[9000-hal]

a question for the writer! is there any fanfic or webcomic about your hal? I have been following for a while now and I was curious if he was part of any story! Id love to read it!

[[ HI ANON well that’s when things become a bit weird-

Originally, this HAL was made as a fanmade Servant for the Fate/Grand Order series, which is why he has different forms called “ascensions” and some weird info in his profile- AND is also the reason why he looks like Mr. White Haired Animu Boy. As a fanservant, HAL does have a story going on, but it’s founded in Fate lore.

Only now that i’m starting to change him into less of a Fate OC and more of a multiverse android HAL from 2001ASO being less based on Fate lore, which is why he may seem a bit “detached” or loose as a character! I’m slowly changing him into his own thing in pretty much real-time.

So to answer your question, the HAL you’re most likely interested in (aka the non-fanservant one) doesn’t have a story- yet! But i’ll make one eventually!

Also thank you sm for liking my bowlcut nerb :’) ]]