#I draw her every time I feel like my skill has leveled up

[arbellaart]

MATOIMARU!!!

YEAH!!!!!!

[hi-sierra]

Biologics, chapter 0.5

Hello, hello! I finally have added a significant amount to my story, Biologics, resulting in a total of ~4400 words. Not a whole ton, I know, but unfortunately life gets to ya. It isn't quite where I want it to be to consider a proper chapter one, but I feel like there's enough written for me to post. General warning that this is intended to heavily lean into the theme of "eroticism of the machine", so if that doesn't appeal to you, you've been warned. It does, however, have many general sci fi worldbuilding elements, so I hope it has a somewhat broad appeal!

So yes, if you already read the first snippet, that's going to be mostly a one to one repeat with some grammatical adjustments. Feel free to scroll down until you get to the new stuff. Flow-wise, there just wasn't a good place to break between the two sections.

Look at me rambling. And I wonder why I can't get any of this stuff done. Anyways, here it is!

Biologics

Pappy always said that manufacturing biological transportation was nothing knew. I mean, shit, humanity's been breeding horses for how long? To him, not much was novel about what was going on in the shipyards way out by Neptune when I was a kid.

But Pappy didn't know a lot of things. And he certainly didn't meet Roseanna.

The Federation Navy had experimented with Biologics for decades. The idea was to create self regenerating ships- organic matter that interfaced with the hull, moving new titanium plates and patches into place down to microscopic precision. If you had a living, growing mass interfacing with steel, a ship didn't have to head all the way back to the yards to patch up after every dogfight.

The first generation... worked. With a full time crew, that is. Full time people on deck jabbin the rigid, chitonous matrix full of growth hormones to get them to set just right. Full time onboard bioengineers to compute what signaling cocktail ya need to hit 'em with to get it to grow back right. Skilled onboard technicians to shave back the chitin when it tried to overgrow the titanium, and slap some new cells in to seed the process in heavily damaged areas. Less input material, less time in the yards, but far more manpower. Great for a Federation cruiser on deep space peacekeeping missions. Far too complex for small craft. Right?

Until some bastard put brains in 'em.

Well. A lotta suits would say that they weren't brains. They were a diffuse network of sensory neurons and ganglia, living inside the body of the ship, integrating signals from a skin of alloyed metal and fibrous protein, calculating power draw too and from various components, integrated with the mechanical and electrical components of the ship to precisely manage the "wound healing" process of the vessel. And of course, it just so happened that one of those ganglia was larger and more complex than the rest of them, and it just so happened that the computer interfaces with this ganglia exhibit complex, thinking behaviors on the level of human cognition, and it just so happens that most pilots and navigators reported them developing their own personalities.....

But of course, the Navy didn't want anyone to have some kind of pesky empathy in the way of their operations. And they certainly didn't want anyone side eyeing the rate at which they disposed of the damn things, just to let them suffer and rot. So as far as the official record was concerned, they weren't brains. But I knew different.

Like most people in the belt, I found Rosie on an... unsponsored field trip to the Neptune scrap yards. She wasn't a ship then. She wasn't much of anything. Not much more than a vat with the central ganglia and just barely enough of the stem cells needed to regrow a network. But I took her all the same. Brains were valuable. Few pilots outside the Navy had them back then. Nowadays, a black market for "brain seeds", a cocktail of neuronal stem cells and enough structural stem cells to grow your own into the chassis of your ship, was thriving. The Navy was pumpin' em out, and leaving them to die. It was cruel. Sometimes, being scavenged and resold was a kinder fate. But more often, some nasty piece of work would pick them up eventually, and treat them like just another goddamn ship. They may be vehicles, but they're a livin' being too.

I digress. I'd never do that to Roseanna. I make sure she gets proper care. And for a good, proper, working ship? That includes some good, proper work.

The asteroid we were docked in was one of my usuals- good bars, nice temp quarters, nice views of the rock's orbiting twin, and a spacious hanger for Rosie to rest in. The chassis I had imprinted Roseanna to was a 40-meter light skipper, with some adjustments for handling deep space trips, as well as some... personal touches. It was pretty much the smallest thing you could actually use to live in and work for long periods of time, but it got the job done. The angular design made the entire ship look like a wedge, or the blade of a bulky dagger. It didn't hurt that each bottom edge was fortified with a sharpened titanium blade, turning the entire sides of the ship into axe-like rams.

Those would probably come in handy today.

I approached Roseanna on the catwalk above her, marveling her alloyed scales. I could almost see her shudder in anticipation as my footsteps vibrated through the air above her. I took the steps down, and hit the trigger to open her top hatch.

When the news got out of the Navy scuffling with a rebelling mining station, an electric air raced across the station. Some went about their day as normal. Some resigned themselves to picking at the leftovers after the dust had settled. And some, like me, knew that they could get the finest pickings.

I slipped into the pilot's seat like it was an old boot.

"Welcome, Captain Victoria."

Rosie could talk, but more often than not, she chose not to. But she understood me just fine. Most of our communication took place using her three prerecorded lines- her welcome statement, affirmative, and negative- as well as a tiny screen showing a small, emoticon face. Many pilots chose to give their ships an elaborate render, but Rosie preferred it this way. It was the first face I gave her, from somewhere out of the scrap heaps, and she refused any offer I made to upgrade. Hell, she even had a hi-res screen for external cameras and comms, but she refused to interface directly with it. Secretly, I was overjoyed. To me, the little pixelated screen was her face. That was her voice. And it was beautiful to see her true self through them.

I brushed my hands across her paneling. Across the switches, the hydraulic controls for the plasma fuel, the steering, the boosts, the comms channels. The thing with Biologics was that you were still the pilot. For whatever reason, they hadn't quite gotten to the point where the brains could take over their own piloting. My personal opinion was just that their personalities lacked the ambition to. Cuz they certainly could take over some ships functions directly, and had the skill to do complex mechanical and electrical tasks. The Navy never let 'em drive, though, and most pilots didn't even know they could give them the ability to control any of the ships functions directly. But with a little help, a little bit of solid engineering, and a pilot that knew their ship... well, you could do a lot. And me and Rosie? We knew each other well. Over the years, I'd added some nice things for her, and she loved using them to help me out.

As my fingers touched the brushed aluminum controls, rimmed with chitinous layers affixing them to the ship, I could feel the walls around me holding their invisible breath. "Do you know what we're doing today, Rosie?"

Her tiny panel flickered on.

[...?]

"We got a scrap run."

[ ^_^]

[ :) ]

[ ^_^ ]

Her panel flicked between various expressions of excitement. My finger quivered on the main power, holding for a moment before flicking it on. The primary electronics of the ship hummed to life, and the parts Rosie controlled pulsed with it. My hands moved across the main functional panels- main hydraulic plasma valve, exhaust ports open, and finally, flicking the switch the start the plasma burner.

My hands gripped the steering. The hanger's airlock doors opened in front of me. My neck length hair started to float as the station's gravity shut off. I hit the switch to unlatch from the supports above. For a moment, we hang there. The dull crackle of the idling plasma burner is the only sound that resonates through Rosie's hull.

Go time. I punch the boost.

The station shakes. Rosie was never a subtle one.

The mechanics are deafened.

The crowd of spectators are deafened.

The other pilots in the hanger are deafened.

But me? The vibrations of Rosie's hull shuddering under me was the sweetest symphony my ears ever had the pleasure of hearing. As we shot out of that hanger, I found myself involuntarily humming a high note, harmonizing with the sweet rumble of my baby's acceleration as we shoot out into the inky, black expanse of space. The twin asteroids shot by us as we disappeared, leaving only the faint blue plasma trail from our engines.

My hand is firm on the boost, weathered hands tightly gripping the bar of the accelerator. I remember installing this thing in her- it was an aftermarket adjustment, not included in the usual light skipper chassis. Gently stripping away the back of her chassis, caressing her insides as I rooted the paneling, firmly attaching the tanks and burners on her insides... these hands had taken great pleasure in that. Bested only, of course, by the first time I had felt the thing roar to life.

And what a feeling it was. Rosie's entire chassis, biological and mechanical, shuddering under my grasp. The grip of my calloused hands on the boost controls, tight and sweaty around the ridged grip of the horizontal bar. The noises she made, as if to shout in glee and wild abandon at being unchained and let loose into the eternal field of space, as she was made to do. The gentle touch of her skin on my back, my body pressed in contact with the small fraction of hers that was my seat. I glanced down at her face panel.

[ :| ]

[ :D ]

[ :| ]

[ :D ]

[ :| ]

[ :D ]

[ :| ]

[ :D ]

My humming gave way to a chuckle, and then a wholehearted, exhilarated laugh. Someone was enjoying herself. The flickering faces on her panel reminded me of the happily panting station dogs back on Mars.

But as much as I would like this to just be a joyride, I had promised Rosie a scrap run. And the pickings were looking good. I glanced down at the nav. I was intentionally headed at a slightly indirect angle- Rosie's boost was her main attractive feature (both as a ship, and as a working partner), and the extra leeway I had in travel time let me strategize a bit more. I doubted we would be the first people there, but I figured we could get in before the main rush. The only trouble was darting in and grabbing something right from under the noses of the first locusts. The scrap field in question included a disabled heavy mining freighter, a goliath of the ship larger than some of the asteroids it made supply runs between. I assumed that most other scavengers would be approaching directly from our station, and the other stations in its proximity. With Rosie's boost, we could overshoot, hook around, and put the freighter in between us and the guns of the more violent craft. Rosie has no long range weapons of any kind- not only would they slow down her miraculous speed, but she didn't like them. I tried installing a small plasma cannon once, and she expressed immense distaste. Maybe they were too brutish for her, or maybe she didn't like the way they felt inside her, burdening her with pressure from the inside that didn't befit the delicate touches I usually graced her with. Rosie loved speed, precision, elegance, and stealth above all else. It's just the kind of ship she was.

That's not to say she was a pacifist, or defenseless. Quite the contrary. She just prefers a more... personal touch.

The navicom beeped at me. We'd reached the point where we needed to make that hook. My bare feet gently swept across the titanium flooring to the steering pedals. My right hand delicately gripped the steering joystick, while my left eased its grip on the boost accelerator.

"Ready for this, darling?"

[ >:) ]

I slammed the steering to the left, and Rosie gleefully complied. The wide bank of the turn as we rotated and soared through the sea of stars twisted my body in its inertia, compressing me further into her. As the angle straightened out to the proper heading, I punched the boost again, and Rosie roared forward.

Slowly, our target came into sight. Damn. This thing had taken some serious damage. Mining freighters typically weren't heavily armored- their only job was to get material from point A to B- but this one had clearly been through some serious modifications. Modifications that now lay in ruin. Titanium plating was scattered in a field around the core of the freighter. I couldn't quite tell what was stuff left behind by the battle, and what was the result of shoddy craftmanship- but it didn't matter. What did matter was that the entire thing had been split almost in half, and the scattered cargo that was leaking out. Cargo that most likely included half the weapon supplies of this little rebel faction. Would fetch a pretty penny, to the right buyer. And hell, if it was just gonna sit here unclaimed...

Ah shit. It wasn't gonna sit here unclaimed. Despite my best efforts, it looks like we weren't the first ones here. A larger scavenger gang had already arrived, and it looks like it was one of the ones I knew- Augustus and his lot. Most likely, they'd be after the weapons intact, one more thing to use to shakedown the scattered independent stations I always flitted between. He would not be happy to see me n Rosie here. What he called his "fleet" was a single, mid-sized carrier ship, about half the size of the freighter we were looting, and the dozen or so scout fighters and strip mining crafts he had looted from the Navy and various corps, and one Biologic that he called his. I respect that part, to be honest. What I don't respect is him immediately turning around and using that charge every goddamn station his ever-increasing "protection fees". Not to mention my personal disdain for the way he treated his ship. Didn't even give her a damn name. I digress. But any chance to loot something from under that slimebag's nose was a win in my book. I knew he wasn't gonna make it easy, though.

Welp. That's what our positioning was for. The side facing us was the main starboard face, and like the rest of the ship, it was peppered in small holes and gashes. Seems like the main damage had happened from the other side, and a few cables and scaffolds on the starboard just barely kept the two rear cargo compartments clinging to the front.

"Alright Rosie, time to creep it in slow. Be quiet, now, don't want them picking up a plasma surge"

[ :| ]

Ha. That was her "my lips are sealed" face. She's having fun with this already.

I cut the booster, coasting closer and closer to the bust open vessel. I eased the reverse thrusters ever so slightly, my fingers gently stroking the dual brake levers, lightly teasing at them to wait until we were as close as I thought we could be without attracted attention.......... before slamming both sides back towards me. For just one, crucial moment.

The goal here was to approximately match the speed and trajectory of a floating piece of titanium plating. Rosie's frontal blades were essentially that, anyways, so all they would see is a somewhat more angular piece of rubble. Hopefully they hadn't seen that same piece of rubble screaming out of travel speed, but I was cautious enough with my distances that I didn't think that was a problem. And they hadn't seen me yet. Once we were close enough to the freighter itself, we were blocked from their raw sightline, and Rosie was running quiet enough to not tip off any of their energy sensors.

But there was still no guarantee. Rosie, however, had no shortage of tricks. Something that she and I had developed together was a nice little bit of snooping. Well cared for and well trained, a Biologic brain had the problem solving of a human, and the computational power of a machine. But them together, and you've got a perfect decoder. And I happened to know that Augustus used an encrypted local frequency to keep his

"Alright Rosie, thinkin you can eavesdrop a little?"

Affirmative.

[...]

[...]

[...]

[...]

[...]

[...]

[..!]

:D

My comms crackled to life. "...7 heavy cannons in center-front portside bay, 3 replacement fighter hatchs...."

The comms crackled back and forth, with each pilot giving updates to what they were finding in their own little segment that they were slicing apart. Occasionally, I saw Augustus or the fighters flick between the slicing ships, overseeing their progress on the port bays. Good. Let them focus on the other side for now. Slowly, the fleet was overshadowed by the freighter. We made it. I released my breath- shit, didn't realize I was holding it- and took a better look at what we were dealing with. It looked as if the scattered debris field had mostly been the remnants of the hull, as well as light weapons for small craft and even infantry. They would fetch some small change, sure, but Rosie's cargo capacity was small. Packing efficiency was the name of the game. I saw the gash that it had all been flooding out of on this side- the entire freighter was covered in them- and peered inside. And ho boy, did my heart flutter.

Heavy cannons.

Jump-graded travel boosters.

Raw, precious metals.

And, hidden in the back corner, seemingly bolted into the wall.... a brain.

We'd hit jackpot, and potentially rescued a poor ship from abandonment, or worse.

"Alright Rosie. Time to get to work."

Affirmative.

And here was another lil something that made Rosie special- her manipulation arms . She always preferred that delicate touch, and wanted to interact with the world in a tactile, real way. So we worked on it. Together. I was tired of taking spacewalks to grab small pieces of scrap, or using the entire goddamn cargo bay on a piece that only had a tiny core, or scraps of precious metals inside. So we needed something that could pluck apart our finds. Do some light disassembly in the field, extract what was valuable, and load it in with the most packing efficiency possible. So I gave her arms- snake like appendages, coiled up in her cargo bay, with thousands of points of articulation. At first, I tried to make some kind of control system that I could use from the cockpit. But Rosie had a different idea. At her urged, I jacked them directly into the same sensory and motor systems that let her grip onto, position, and repair her hull. And by god, it worked.

When I showed her off the first time, no one had ever seen anything like it. Because there was nothing like it. A ship taking real mechanical control, over something so precise and delicate, was something that only a deeply intelligent, deeply skilled ship, with complex decision making and tactile movement could do.

And I was goddamn proud of her.

Every time she deployed them, I watched awe. Rosie gave a face of determination, and sinuous, metallic, tentacle-like appendages slid out in a bundle from the cargo bay opening on her underside. Each one was headed off by a different attachment- a precision laser cutter, a simple three-pointed grabbing claw, a drill, a tiny buzzsaw, camera that let me see what was going on, and more. Each one could be swapped out, depending on the task at hand. With eight of them slithering out from her cargo bay, though, there was usually something for everything. They extended out as a single bouquet, down through the hole of the cargo compartment, and split apart once inside. Each arm got to work.

Her observation monitor flickered on, giving me a view from the camera arm. I would've liked to get the brain out first, but two heavy cannons and a booster blocking the way anyways. We'd cut through that, picking off the energy cores and precious metals in the circuits as we go, and work our way towards the back. Rosie seemed to like the plan as well. My only job was to watch the comms, and watch the sensors.

I watched the camera as the petite tools of the arms excised and picked apart the titanium shell of the first heavy cannon. Her tools- the delicate 'fingers' of her arms- picked, pulled, tugged, and gently gripped every necessary notch, every joined titanium plate that needed to be undone, ever scrap of precious material. Firm, yet precise. Strong, yet never breaking or mishandling a single piece of cargo. As Rosie worked, my eyes darted across the energy sensors. I could see blips firing off as the ships on the other side of the freighter as the slicing ships worked and flitted between their stations from the other side. The comms crackled with their reports to Augustus- they seemed to be moving back and forth to the main carrier to drop off their hauls. It seemed like they had a lot to go through- we'd have plenty of time.

On the camera view, I could see a grabbing claw retracting back through the cargo bay. The first cannon had the back section cleanly excised from the massive barrel and chassis, leaving a path for the tools to get to the booster. The precious energy cell was sliding its way back into Rosie's cargo bay. God damn. She was quick with that. The laser cutter and saw were already making short work of the booster, too. We'd get to the brain in no time.

The chatter on the other line continued. We were still safe, but Augustus' crew had made more progress than I had hoped. Once the slicers had picked apart the port, they'd loop around to the starboard. We had to grab what we could as fast as we can- but I knew neither me or Rosie was gonna leave without that brain. Rosie gracefully sliced the fuel cell and ignition from the plasma burner, leaving the bracketing and vents behind. The second heavy cannon was soon to follow. Each cut through each piece had left a winding path towards the back of the chamber, allowing a physical path to what I had seen just barely poking through: a container for a genuine ship's brain. Rosie slid her camera arm in for a closer look.

The brain was bolted into the chassis of the ship, as well as some containers of growth factor. Seemed like the intent was to grow her in to this freighter. That was certainly an ambitious task, but if they knew what they were doing, it would be well worth it. A self-repairing, intelligent hauler as large as this one would be the heart and soul of resistance movements everywhere, supplying every backwater mining station or moon that longed to be free. Unfortunately, the brave and principled can still be stupid, and these chucklefucks had no idea what they were doing. Slapped in a random cargo bay, desperately trying to get growth out from there with no proper imprinting guidance... shame. If they'd've found me before running into the Navy, I might've helped them out. But at least now, we could give her a better life. I knew a lot of good, caring pilots that would take loving care of a fine ship like her.

From what I could tell, we were still safe from Augustus. Based on what I was hearing on the comms, each slicer was working on its last cargo hold subsection, and after that, they'd be poking around this side. We had to get this brain and get out.

Tenderly, her claw arm gripped the top of the brain's chamber, as her other fingers started working on the rivets. A saw would bust through part of the titanium bracket holding the chamber down, and when it got too close to the container itself, laser cutters took over, delicately slicing off each affixation point one by one. Rosie worked in a clockwise direction, first working down the three riveting points on the right, sawing off the bottom bracket, and then working up the rivets on the left.

C'mon Rosie. You got this. Just need the top plate....

"Finishing up there, slicer 5T?"

Shit. That was Augustus on the comms.

"Sure thing boss. Just gotta get this load to central. Mind if someone takes a peek on the other side for parasites before I get there?"

Shit.

"Sure thing. Fighter 3A, get your ass in gear and make a full pass of the ship."

An energy spike pinged on my sensor panels as the fighter revved up a booster.

"Gotcha boss. Starting at aft segment."

Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit

We still had a sliver of time before we were seen. They'd wanna get a good pass everywhere- there were ships far stealthier than us out there. But it was minutes at most. We had to finish up.

"Rosie, how're we doing there? You done?"

Negative.

[ ;( ]

"Fuck. Rosie, we gotta get outta here."

Affirmative. Affirmative. Affirmative. Affirmative.

Rosie-speak for "I know, I know, I know"

My eyes were fixed to the scanner and my cockpit windows for a visual, but I spared one moment to check Rosie's cam. She was finishing sawing through the top bracket. Just a little more....

"Aft clear, moving to starboard cargo bays."

The brain snapped off of the hull, and Rosie's claws were zipping it back to her cargo bay. I revved the engines into standby. The arms tenderly guided it through the path we had cleared, and out through the hole in the hull. We might be able to barely slip away without them knowing.....

I looked up through the cockpit, just as the dinged-up, formerly Navy fighter showed itself from behind a piece of debris. It froze for a moment, and then lined its nose to face me. Cannon ports shifted open, and slowly took aim.

"Well shit, Augustus, you're gonna wanna see this. Get your ass over here, I'm switching to public comms."

I heard slight fuzz as he switched his channel.

"Alright, leech, I'll keep this simple. You have thirty seconds to relinquish your haul before you join the debris."

For a single, cold moment, I swear I made eye contact with him through our cockpits.

[zedleaked]

[APPARENTLY PEOPLE HERE WANTED TO KNOW THE HUMAN AXIS LORE SO IM JUST GOING TO COPY MY TWITTER POST HERE…] BASIC GIST IS THAT THIS IS JUST A GENERAL HUMAN AU. MONSTERS AND HUMANS SWAPPED. WOWIE!

ANYWAYS READ MORE FOR AXIS

AXIS ORIGIN IS STILL A BIT FUZZY. HERE HE'S LIKE CHUJIN'S ADOPTED SON [GENDER NEUTRAL],, CATGIRLTRICKSTER ON TWITTER SUGGESTED CHUJIN JUST FINDING YOUNG AXIS IN A PIPE OR SOMETHING AND I THINK THATS REALLY FUNNY... THOUGH HIS ORIGINS WOULD BE VAGUE. IF ASKED HE'D SAY HE DOESN'T REMEMBER.

ALSO NOTE BEFORE I FORGET. AXIS WAS JUST BORN WITH ONE LEG. THERE IS NO LORE REASON TO WHY ITS MISSING, IT IS JUST THE WAY HE IS. CHUJIN MAKES HIM A ROBOTIC LEG SO HE CAN HAVE AN EASIER TIME.

SURE I COULD GIVE A FUCKED REASON AS TO WHY HE DOESNT HAVE IT BUT I DONT FEEL LIKE IT.

AXIS WOULD BE AN APPRENTICE UNDER CHUJIN SIMILAR TO MARTLET [I NEEDA DRAW MARTLET EVENTUALLY] PLUS IN GAME THERE'S FLAVOR TEXT ABOUT HIM FLIPPING THROUGH THE ROYAL GUARD HANDBOOK IN HIS MIND. HONESTLY. MARTLET AND AXIS BEING FRIENDS THROUGH SHARING THE SAME INTEREST IS SILLY...

HE'D WANT TO TRAIN HIMSELF TO BECOME A ROYAL GUARD OR AT LEAST A PROTECTOR TO PAYBACK CHUJIN FOR TAKING HIM IN. HE'S GOING TO PROTECT HIS FATHER AND HUMANKIND. IT'S HIS BIGGEST GOAL IN LIFE.

STEAMWORKS STILL EXISTS. ITS JUST CHUJIN HADNT BUILT THE AXIS MODELS IN THIS AU BECAUSE. YOU KNOW.

MAYBE HE SAW POTENTIAL IN HUMAN AXIS, SEEING HOW DETERMINED HE IS TO GROW STRONGER AND PROTECT PEOPLE. CHUJIN WOULD WANT HIM TO HONE HIS SKILLS TO BECOME SOMETHING... BIG.

IN A WAY. AXIS WAS A PEEK INTO WHAT HUMANS COULD BECOME AND WHAT THAT COULD DO FOR HUMAN SOCIETY UNDERGROUND.

MEANWHILE AXIS IS ENAMORED BY STEAMWORKS AND JUST CHUJIN'S WORK IN GENERAL. HE REALLY ADMIRES ROBOTS, HE THINKS ABOUT WHAT ITS LIKE IF HE HAD ROBOTIC MODIFICATIONS.

AND LESS LORE RELEVANT BUT HE ALSO HAS CONNECTIONS TO KANAKO TOO! THEY ARE THE SIBLINGS EVER. THOUGH IVE BEEN WONDERING HOW CEROBA NOT KNOWING AXIS IN STEAMWORKS WOULD WORK. IT'D BE KINDA WEIRD FOR CHUJIN TO KEEP A WHOLE ASS CHILD SECRET FROM HER.

THEYVE PROBABLY SEEN EACH OTHER AND NEVER HAD MUCH SIGNIFICANT

INTERACTIONS FOR THEM TO FULLY REMEMBER EACH OTHER. AXIS SPENDS A MAJORITY OF HIS TIME AT STEAMWORKS OR DOING ROYAL GUARD SHIT, AND WHEN HES NOT DOING THAT HES PROBABLY PLAYING WITH KANAKO [WHEN CEROBA ISNT AROUND]

AND WELL. WE HAD TO GET TO THIS PART EVENTUALLY. ONE DAY A MONSTER MAKES ITS WAY INTO THE UNDERGROUND AND STARTED KILLING PEOPLE. DALV [WHO I ALSO NEED TO DRAW] GOT CAUGHT UP IN THE FRAY WHILE PLAYING WITH KANAKO [AND AXIS TOO]. UPON SEEING HIS FRIENDS GET HURT. SOMETHING CLICKS.

AXIS HAD TRAINED UP TO THIS POINT. THIS WAS HIS MOMENT. HE HAD TO SAVE THE PEOPLE FROM THE THREAT IN FRONT OF THEM. INSTINCTS KICK IN AND HE GOES IN TO FIGHT THE MONSTER WHILE DALV TAKES KANAKO TO SAFETY.

THIS MONSTER WAS TOUGH. HE WAS ALMOST KILLED. BUT HE HAD TO PERSEVERE.

SOMETHING JUST ACTIVATED IN HIS SOUL.

HE FELT A SURGE OF POWER. THE ONLY THING HE KNEW IN THAT MOMENT WAS TO.

GET. RID. OF. THE. THREAT.

IN FRONT OF HIM WAS JUST. A HEADLESS BODY THAT SLOWLY FADED INTO DUST.

THAT... HE DIDNT MEAN TO GO THAT FAR.

SIMILAR TO CLOVER IN GENOCIDE, AXIS HAD RAPIDLY LEVELED UP AND SHOT A POWERFUL ATTACK AT THE MONSTER IN RESPONSE TO ALMOST DYING. HE NEEDED TO KEEP GOING NO MATTER WHAT.

STILL. THE CONSEQUENCES OF HIS ACTIONS LAID HEAVY ON HIM.

HE HAD KILLED A LIVING, BREATHING THING.

SOON AFTER CHUJIN WALKED IN ON THE SCENE COMPLETELY HORRIFIED. AXIS, ASHAMED OF WHAT HE HAD DONE RAN TOWARD STEAMWORKS TO ISOLATE HIMSELF, SIMILAR TO DALV.

SURE, HE HAD SAVED PEOPLE FROM THAT MONSTER BUT DID HE HAVE TO BE SO GRUESOME?

CHUJIN RAN AFTER HIM, TRYING TO GET HIM BACK

CHUJIN FINDS HIM AT STEAMWORKS, WALLOWING IN JUST. EVERY EMOTION.

HE TRIES TO COMFORT HIM THOUGH AXIS IS STILL INSISTENT ON NOT GOING OUT.

THE TWO REACHED THE COMPROMISE THAT: AXIS WOULD GUARD AND PROTECT STEAMWORKS AND THAT CHUJIN WOULD CHECK UP ON HIM EVERY NOW AND THEN.

SO THATS WHAT HE DID. HE STAYED AT STEAMWORKS, WATCHING OVER THE PLACE AND ITS ROBOTS FOR….. AGES.

EVENTUALLY CHUJIN'S CHECK UPS GET MORE SPARSE UNTIL JUST. NOTHING.

AXIS NOTICES TOO THAT LESS AND LESS SCIENTISTS ARE PRESENT AT STEAMWORKS. UNTIL THERE IS NO ONE THERE.

WHEN ASKED IF HE WAS GOING TO LEAVE

TOO HE SAID

"NO. MY FATHER AND I HAD REACHED THE AGREEMENT THAT I WOULD STAY AND PATROL THIS AREA, AND THAT I WILL DO." THERE WAS NO CONVINCING HIM TO LEAVE. SO THE OTHERS RELUCTANTLY LEFT HIM BE.

DAY BY DAY HE WATCHES STEAMWORKS FLOOD AND DECAY. WHILE HE STAYS THERE TRYING TO KEEP UP THE AGREEMENT BETWEEN HIS FATHER AND HIMSELF.

NO ONE HAD TOLD HIM.

ONE DAY THOUGH HE FINDS THAT STEAMWORKS SUDDENLY ACTIVATES RIGHT BEFORE SEEING A MONSTER ONCE AGAIN.

OH HE REMEMBERS THE PAST WELL. IN THIS AU IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE FOR HIM TO GET HIS MEMORY ERASED.

WHILE THE EVENTS PLAY OUT MOSTLY THE SAME COMPARED TO NORMAL UTY.

AXIS SEEMS MORE HESITANT THAN USUAL. AND PROBABLY MONOLOGUING A LITTLE SIMILAR TO WHAT DALV DOES

BEING A HUMAN. HE POSES LESS OF A THREAT ON HIS OWN. HOWEVER. MY GUY SETS UP HOME ALONE TYPE TRAPS N SHIT TO TRY AND CATCH CLOVER INSTEAD [PART OF HIS ROYAL GUARD TRAINING!!.

ONLY RESORTING TO USING "ROBOTIC MODIFICATIONS" HE HAD FOUND WHEN CLOVER REALLY [ticks] HIM OFF.

AND YES. HE STILL GETS A ROBOT SPOUSE IF A PACIFIST PLAYTHROUGH HAPPENS. HUMAN AXIS IS OBJECTUM. ITS REAL.

SO YEAH THAT IS ALL THE THINGS I THINK.

HOLY SHIT THIS THREAD IS LONG. FEW PEOPLE WILL READ THIS I THINK BUT I STILL WANTED TO GET STUPID AU THOUGHTS OUT. UH. YEAH HOPE THAT IS GOOD OR SMTH.. FEEL FREE TO ASK QUESTIONS 🥺

[ereyies]

okay haiii these are my omam headcanons that i wrote a couple months ago and completely forgot about and found them on my ipad so uhh enjoy

Of Mice and Men character headcanons:

George suffers from Misophonia

George also had BPD and takes medication for it

Curley's wife's name is Sally. idk why but she's always been a Sally to me...

Despite all his apparent charm, Slim can’t flirt for the life of him and ends up just standing like 🧍‍♂️and somehow it always works

Whitt sleepwalks regularly. Slim gets up multiple times a week every night just to drag Whitt back to bed

Lennie has full blown conversations in his sleep. very loudly.

Crooks’s favourite food is liquorice or something 😭 old man food,,,

Candy will randomly just tell the most absurd, very obviously untrue facts every with a completely straight face just to see how gullible ppl one the ranch are. “yeah did you fellas know that there's a chance if you sneeze while you’re fulla whiskey your gut will burst? ‘ts true! saw it happen to a poor guy here on this very ranch!!”

Carlson has a bunch of weirdly specific and random skills that serve no practical use in his life whatsoever. stuff like he’s really good at ventriloquism, or knows an absurd amount of dances from around the world, or he’s an expert of handwriting analysis, or he can ride a unicycle. absolutely useless but mildly impressive talents.

Curley hurts himself in his outburst as much as he hurts others. not intentionally or because of his opponent, he just gets so mad he'll start bashing his head or something

+ Bronwyn and Curley headcanons

(For those who don't know, Bronwyn is my omam oc, you can find information about her here and here, but all you need to know for this is that she's Curley's younger sister.)

⚠️ CW for mention of neglect, abuse, and suicide ⚠️

Bronwyn walks very silently. Very conscious of her footsteps.

She suffers from undiagnosed psychosis (hallucinations, delusions, disorganised thinking, tangential thinking), attachment issues, occasionally seizures, anxiety issues, etc.

Inherited all her mental disorders from her mother's side. Her mother also suffered from various undiagnosed mental disorders and killed herself as a result of her condition rapidly worsening with no treatment

Bronwyn still thinks so highly of Curley despite how awfully he treats her as she only ever remembers when they were younger and when they were each other's best friends. When someone speaks badly about Curley, she'll always defend him. Curley believes that Bronwyn is a worthless burden who brings down his image and the reputation of the family, making him feel embarrassed and that he's weaker somehow for having a mentally ill sister.

Curley blames Bronwyn for their mother's death, believing that Bronwyn was born sick and that their mother 'caught' her illness.

Their mother was emotionally abusive, and their father, the boss of the ranch, is quite neglectful of them both. Neither Curley nor Bronwyn realise just how awful their mother treated them both, yet neither talk about her.

Curley secretly adored his mother. Bronwyn secretly resents her but can't put a finger on why. She tried to draw her mother once and the paper she used was just covered in nothing but dark scribbles.

When she and Curley get into fights they often get physical and violent. Bronwyn only learnt to fight from Curley because in the middle of fighting he'd be so pissed off that she couldn't fight properly and be like 'that's not how you throw a punch. quit embarrassing yourself, I'll show you how it's done. now you try.' and accidentally ended up teaching her to fight at his level.

When the boss would intervene with their fights, he'd observe and blame whoever caused the most damage. Curley often got the blame the most because he'd let his anger get the best of him.

[wyfy-meltdown]

I did it again!!! Meet my second PMMM OC: Shinoha Murofushi!

More info below the cut *⁠.⁠✧

Basic Info:

Name: Shinoha Murofushi

Age: 16

Height: 5'6

Wish: "'My ultimate dream could come true'... If that's really the case then, I want to get revenge on those bastards!"

Weapon: Dual Swords

Power: The ability to release attacks used against her back at an enemy*

Soul Gem: Bellflower (*also somewhat looks like a skull) located below the chest, with scales on the bottom of the soul gem

Witch: Nemesis

*She can only absorb attacks that have hit her, and will take damage from anything that hits her. She can store damage for as long as she wants, but when she releases it, every attack she's stores gets released at once. However the attack affected her is how it will affect the target she releases on: Ex. Someone punches her causing a bloody nose, Shinoha releases her damage, and the puncher gains a bloody nose and the pain that caused the bloody nose. Ex2. Someone breaks her arm with a baseball bat, Shinoha releases her damage, and the batter gains a broken arm and the pain of a baseball bat to the arm.

Personality:

She's incredibly standoffish and tries her best to be alone at all times. She rarely leaves her room, and hates going to school. She's quick to judge and mistrust others, and it's incredibly hard for her to lower her guard. She's learned to cut her own hair (due to avoiding leaving the house) and while she has exceptional talent doing so, she has no interest in being a hairdresser. She rarely sleeps, and is always tired. She maintains a perfect poker face, but struggles with violent thoughts and self-loathing: becoming a magical girl has given her an outlet for her struggles, although she gets very brutal in fights. Her favorite food is seafood, and she can't stand the taste of sweet things. Despite her dark thoughts, she's very meek, and seldom voices her opinions and feelings. If she's got a problem with someone, they likely don't know until it's too late. Her downbeat nature means she doesn't have many hobbies; she spends most of her time on her phone, and is a closet idol fanatic.

Design Breakdown:

This design was a challenge and a pain. I struggled A LOT to incorporate her "revenge" wish and find a good theming for it, but all I could really work with was "greek goddess Nemesis" (justice/law/punishment theme). I managed to fit in some wing-like shapes (skirt, swords) but I don't know if it's obvious enough(?) Her hair-circle is meant to look like a halo (angel of punishment theme) but I'm not sure if it just looks like a random circle or an actual halo. I included bellflower motifs because... I have no real reason; nice concept, but I can't draw bellflowers well. Her colour palette was the most difficult part (theming second) because no colours fit her??? I don't know how to describe it, but no colours worked right with her personality (not even black or white). I settled on green with grey hair, but it'll probably change if I ever draw her again. I fear her design is a little to "fantasy" not enough "magical girl" (but that might just be my "ruffles/pink" brainrot). I tried really hard to give her a should cloak, then a caplet, and finally I gave up and just went with the sleeves.

Overall: she was a struggle, and I don't think I got across my theming and motifs well. I might try to redesign her in the future, but for now I'm content with this: I think it's good for my current skill level and her current concept.

Trivia:

She didn't believe in magical girls at all, but after much pestering convincing from Komoe, she unseriously made a wish before becoming a magical girl

Her damage absorbing ability causes her to intentionally endanger herself in fights against witches (possible concept)

Originally her plan was to kill her bullies, but she instead opted to use her power to curse them

She would've liked to be the brooding loner type of magical girl, but Komoe had other plans

She has a mini fridge in her room and it's her favorite thing in the world

It's always dark in her room, so she can see well in the dark (potential plot point later[?])

She's a big fan of spy, action, and mystery movies; and has some form of online review blog

She has a mannequin in her room she vents her frustrations and feelings to (she strongly dislikes showing emotions in public and/or around others)

As much as she's tried to fight it, Komoe often comes to her house with groceries, grief seeds, gifts, and other things to give to Shinoha

Although she was initially very unhappy about becoming a magical girl (she kinda became a magical girl on accident), she's slowly learning to embrace her magical girl persona (and becoming more deranged in the process!)

She named her magical girl swords after her two favorite idols, and has begun a personal sword collection (a goal Komoe helped her set was to eventually forge a sword herself)

She once drank a small bottle of vanilla extract without batting an eye (it was dark, she was tired and didn't feel like reading)

She punts around Inkyuu like a ball

[mintmoth]

Your oc's are so cool!! It's such a surreal feeling to get back into a fandom and wake up up find that one of my favorite artists is also there. Say, quick question do you plan on making executions for your oc's or do they survive? Well whatever you do I hope you'll have fun with it and as always remember to be well hydrated and take breaks, I hope your doing well mint.

BXDISBSK OH HELLA!! Also thank you 😭😭 I'm glad you're enjoying my silly dr2 art and my oc planning lmao

Honestly I was originally planning on having only 2 ocs specifically because I wanted one to kill the other in order to maintain the same group of survivors in the end lmao. I'm still trying to fully work out the setup and inevitable execution because the plot writing for dr2 is really tight and well progressed imo, so I feel like adding anything would weaken it-

BUT I'm also just having fun and being silly so I know it doesn't have to be perfect it just needs to let me have fun really lmao

I'll add a readmore but I'll ramble about each of them a little if anyone has any interest

First up is the first one I made, Haruka (forgive all of their basic bitch Japanese names, I can't do the fun wordplay to the level I wish) they're the ultimate ballerina, and by extension also nonbinary kind of feminine leaning androgynous but can be masc if needed because they can do any kind of role required of them for a performance

When they're tossed into the dr2 mix they'd probably be found being a third wheel to the dynamic duo that is Akane and Nekomaru, since they're also technically more athletic and would be stretching and practicing every day. I want to sit down sometime and draw them and Akane engaged in a flexibility battle and Kazuichi walking in on them and screeching because they look so creepy

Haruka is planned to be a murderer and I'll definitely get some drawings out once I flesh out my concepts for their execution more

Next up is Nao! She's the ultimate sharpshooter and yes that is a little vague but it's because this includes bows and such on top of typical guns. Hell, she probably even does well with throwing stuff if there's enough focus

With the dr2 cast she'd be mostly a friend to Ibuki and Kazuichi, their eccentricities are endearing to her, plus if either of them just want to ramble about something they're working on she's gonna listen for hours. Honestly they're such a movie night squad to me. Also post game I feel like she's like a girl in the same way I still see Kazuichi a guy, like in the vaguest terms cuz they're both just Themselves and are gonna have fun with it now since they're apart from society. Ibuki isn't included only since I feel like she'd struggle less, but this is the bi/pan gender fuckery trifecta of the group to me

Oh yeah and Haruka kills her. I've got the death already planned out and ideally I wanna do a cg style emulation for it but idk if I can swing it lmao I'm not very good at style emulation tbh

And last but not least is Tōru. I didn't plan on her existing so idk how I'm gonna get rid of her in time for the end hmm. But she's the ultimate tattoo artist and has the most fleshed out backstory of the three but it's embarrassing and I know it LMAO

Basic run down- and stick with me here- she lives with family that work under the Kuzuryu clan, so she's done a lot of sick yakuza tats, partially because of her skill and mostly because this shit is so good that her tattoos have like, an "aura" that influences the viewer a little. So these dudes have extra intimidating tattoo bullshit going on- BUT ANYWAYS so things start and she can recognize Fuyuhiko and Peko and knows what's up with them, but neither of them have officially met her so she's like "oh thank fuck they have no idea that I know who they are I'm gonna avoid these assholes like the PLAGUE"

But of course that won't hold forever but it just makes me laugh like chapter 3 Fuyuhiko trying desperately to be kinder to everyone like "yeah, maybe I'll see if you're good enough to tattoo me some day" and she's choking on her drink because Haha About That-

But yeah hopefully I can rope one of my friends into having their oc knock her off because I think that would be funny like, getting down on one knee please kill my oc tragically

[stylesispunk]

My fave 2024 things (my work)

(yes, i love you, jo march)

thank you to the lovely @greenwitchfromthewoods for giving me the strength to do this

Okay. Where do I start? I've always been so insecure when it comes to the things I do for passion, love or hobby. I've always felt i'm not good enough or that I will never reach the levels of greatness I would love to taste.

Since I was a little kid I was in love with art in all its expressions. My first love in life was theater. I spent my whole childhood acting on plays and stuff that made me happy (actually my favorite memory of life has to do with a particular one) I remember my teacher and I loved how she made me love expressing things through art and I learnt drawing and painting, I was so good at that and I still do it but not with the same frequency and what can I say about stories? Writing was my refuge every time i didn't know what to say. I always tried to write plays and poems, but then came the first enemy, puberty hit and I became insecure about everything because I wasn't good in maths and people say that i wouldn't be anyone in the world because of that.

Still I kept finding ways to express myself through essays and articles and I always felt proud of myself because I got perfect grades doing that stuff. I loved how passionate I became about politics and history and about learning english. I wanted to be a journalist so bad but for some reason I couldn't persuade that dream (but i'm trying).

And narrating stories is still a foreign field for me because It's not the type of writing I tend to do but i've been trying my best to improve and practice and i feel a bit proud for taking my time in this. Writing is actually my weakest skill in English ( I got 6.5 on that skill when i took the ielts test) but those are things you shouldn't know

Well now. Thank you to all who have taken their time to read my stories and for being so nice and attentive to it. For every feedback and word that reminds me of how beautiful it is to connect with people. Sometimes i don't even know how to handle it. ♥️💌 ps, sorry if my english looks like ai for you 😶‍🌫️.

-> my favorite jobs from this year 💌

✨ Joel miller

You're the loss of my life: This one? My biggest baby. I love how I was able to put the feelings on here. The idea came from me listening to loml by taylor swift (my personal friend) on loop. I just felt like it was so easy to involve myself in this story and write two characters that lose themselves in a world they weren't ready to face and how we tend to keep loving people that hurt us because memories made us think of them as good.

Did the love affair maim you too?: same thing, love is so weird sometimes. I'm a person who took her time to open up to someone because i've been hurt in the past by this one made me feel things while writing it.

Never leave, never mind: I know it's not the same but losing my granpa was the most painful thing for me and this one helped me a lot to accept that he won't come back but I have 24 years of my life with him and that's beautiful. ( I lost the link this one 💀)

✨ Marcus Acacius:

Hands in the hair of someone's name marcus: I feel really proud of this one because I feel the writing felt so genuine for me while I was working on it, no doubt, only inspo and a lot of help from the internet to have some facts right. Besides my love for the Roman empire came back.

i don't know who to tag here because i'm shy but I am always trying to show support to writers on here. Your stories are amazing and worth each minute a person can spend reading them.

I hope to see a lot of you on here and keep writing because you're talented people who deserve all the love and respect ♥️♥️

YOU ARE AMAZING I HOPE TO SEE YOU ALL ON MY TL DURING 2025 ✨

[lixenn]

OCtober 2024 day 23: community

@myrmyrtheorca one science girl coming right up! Anemone is also working hard, pipetting lots for qPCR 🫡 what a legend!

A yapping essay under the cut, I will talk science so you have been warned.

Now before I ramble about science I'm just gonna talk about the art for a bit. I did use a reference for this because I'm not insane and drawing the lineart with it was ... alright I would say. I actually looked through my own pictures and my uni website first in case I could find something as a ref but no dice so I needed to look it up anyways. I think the most difficult lineart to draw was the fucking pipettes... I need everyone to know that all the lab equipment (except maybe the blue regant holder) is a simplification of what it actually looks like because by god I could not replicate the real thing with my current skill set. I know most people will not give a fuck but I do so it needed to be said.

Otherwise colouring went okay and rendering wasn't extremely tedious. I noticed that I actually really like rendering blond hair, years ago I found this hack where you use red for the shadows and turn the opacity down and it works so well every time, I'm a bit obsessed tbh. I need to give more of my OCs blond hair lmao.

Okay enough about art let's talk science! Honestly this is really just me explaining science stuff, so feel free to skip because this can get long.

As I mentioned above I drew Anemone doing qPCR and I chose qPCR because her focus is genetic research. So basically she looks into the human genome (entire set of human genes) to see how it correlates to the Pallid Flame.

qPCR stands for quantitative polymerase chain reaction or real time polymerase chain reaction (RTpcr) and it's a valuable tool for analysing stuff down to genetic aka DNA level. You might have learnt about PCR in school but if not or if you've forgotten: PCR is the amplification of a specific gene aka you take one specific part of someone's DNA and replicate it a bunch of times. This is useful if you want to proof if a specific gene is present in the DNA you are analysing. Now qPCR also does the DNA amplification but as it already implies with the name it also counts how much the gene was amplified. You can use qPCR in many applications for example I used this method in my thesis to test if skin related genes are upregulated (higher gene expression aka genes are more activated? <- me trying to simplify genetics I'm not sure if this is the correct term of phrase) or down regulated (lower gene expression) when I put mast cells in my skin models. It gives you insight how certain factors affect cells on DNA level and since it will give you number at the end you can do statistics which is what everyone will really care about. I hope this explanation was at least somehow understandable if anyone has any questions I can talk more about this no prob 🫡

In fact I will talk more about it just... less why you do qPCR but more on how you do it. Because the thing is with this method... You need to pipette, you need to pipette A LOT. And honestly I'm really not a fan because you need to be so exact with this pipetting since each mistake you make stacks up and shows in your data at the end. It's very frustrating especially because there are a lot of steps where you can make mistakes and you need to be fully concentrated the entire time. I... I would say I'm good at my job but I really don't like this part of it because it grates on my nerves. But I think Anemone would be good at it, it's something repetitive that requires a steady hand and patience. Normally post Docs and even some PhD students let assisstants handle this job but I'd like to imagine that Anemone likes doing small things occasionally. Maybe not the entire process (there's a lot of prep work required for qPCR) but the last few steps she can take over, just for a change of pace.

[justicegundam82]

PF1: GRAVE HAG

Hello! Here's another of my attempts at retro-converting a 2E critter to 1E stats. After the Rust Hag, I surely couldn't pass up the Grave Hag, especially since I think Hags are kinda underrated and can be just as terrifying and versatile as vampires and liches when it comes to being evil masterminds.

Again I've tried to be as close as possible to the original version, though I had to drop a few special abilities in the process, since I was afraid they would have made the conversion overpowered. I'm still wondering if my conversion here might be a bit much... but I'll let you guys be the judges of that.

Hope you enjoy it!

GRAVE HAG

Image © Paizo Publishing. Accessed at Archives of Nethys here

This woman has a cadaverous appearence, with greying flesh, filthy black hair and bloody sores all over her body. Her nails are long, ragged claws, and her clothes are soiled with grave dirt.

GRAVE HAG CR 9

XP 6’400

CE Medium Monstrous Humanoid

Init +3; Senses darkvision 60 ft.; Perception +18

DEFENSE

AC 23 (+3 Dex, +1 dodge, +9 natural), touch 14, flat-footed 19

hp 104 (11d10+44)

Fort +8, Ref +10, Will +11; +4 vs. disease, fear and paralysis

Defensive Abilities negative healing

Damage Reduction 5 / cold iron; Immune energy drain, poison; Spell Resistance 20

ATTACK

Speed 30 ft.

Melee improvised weapon +17 / +12 / +7 (1d8+7) or 2 claws +17 (1d6+5 plus grab)

Ranged grave ray +15 touch (4d6)

Special Attacks curse of the grave, grave ray

Spell-Like Abilities (CL 12th, concentration +15)

1/day – cloudkill (DC 18)

3/day – animate dead, contagion (DC 18), enervation (DC 18), vampiric touch

At will – bleed (DC 14), cause fear (DC 15), command undead (DC 16), death knell (DC 15), speak with dead (DC 17)

STATISTICS

Str 20, Dex 17, Con 16, Int 19, Wis 18, Cha 17

Base Atk +12; CMB +17 (+21 grapple); CMD 30

Feats Catch Off-Guard (B), Dodge, Great Fortitude, Power Attack, Spell Focus (necromancy), Toughness, Undead Master

Skills Bluff +14, Climb +10, Craft (any one) +10, Heal +11, Intimidate +15, Knowledge (arcana) +14, Knowledge (religion) +16, Perception +18, Sense Motive +12, Spellcraft +12, Stealth +14, Survival +10

Languages Aklo, Common, Giant, Necril

Special Qualities undead mien

ECOLOGY

Environment any

Organization solitary or coven (3 hags of any type)

Treasure standard

SPECIAL ABILITIES

Curse of the Grave (Sup): Three times per day, a grave hag can put a curse on a creature, rendering it more enticing to the ravenous undead. A target can avoid this effect by making a successful Will save (DC 18). If the save is failed, the target starts drawing the undead’s attention, granting them a +4 bonus on Perception checks to notice the affected creature and on saving throws to resist spells that hide or disguise the affected creature from undead (such as hide from undead). Once an undead notices the affected creature, it feels compelled to kill and devour the affected creature, and gains a +2 profane bonus on attack rolls made against the affected creature and a +2 profane bonus on saving throws against the affected creature’s spells and special abilities. The undead also ignores any concealment less than total concealment that an affected creature has. A curse of the grave lasts for 24 hours or until removed with a successful remove curse, dispel magic, break enchantment or similar magic (against a casting level of 12). The save DC is Charisma-based.

Grave Ray (Sup): Once every 1d4+1 rounds, a grave hag can fire a black beam of bone-chilling negative energy to a maximum range of 60 feet. If the grave hag succeeds at a ranged touch attack, the beam inflicts 4d6 point of negative energy damage, which can be halved on a successful Fortitude save (DC 18). A grave ray can be used to heal undead creatures, or the grave hag herself, in this way. The save DC is Charisma-based.

Negative Healing (Sup): A grave hag is healed by negative energy and harmed by positive energy as if she were an undead creature.

Undead Mien (Ex): A grave hag counts as an undead creature for the purpose of spells, spell-like abilities or special abilities that detect undead. She also gains a +4 racial bonus on saving throws vs. disease, fear and paralysis effects.

Grave hags are a particularly powerful breed of hags with an affinity for undead and negative energy, who make their liars in cemetaries, mausoleums or other burial sites, where they surround themselves with undead servitors and form a kind of twisted mockery of a court. Unlike most hags, grave hags do not have the ability to alter their appearence into a more reassuring shape, and are forced to hide where few people would want to seek them out. However, grave hags are grieviously arrogant and self-centered, and believe that this kind of life is beneath them, so they spend most of their time concocting plans to expand their territory and set themselves up as petty rulers of undead-infested regions.

Even for the standards of hags, grave hags are extremely smug and self-important, seeing themselves as the most powerful, cunning and strongest of all hags, and demanding respect and unconditional obedience from any “lesser” kind of hag. They tend to mock other hags’ abilities that they don’t possess (such as the ability to alter self) as pointless parlor tricks who have no inherent use to them. The exception to this are night hags, whom are seen by grave hags as role models, and to whom a grave hag will gladly submit.

In combat, grave hags tend to hold back and harass opponents with spells and withering blasts of negative energy while their undead minions tear their victims apart. They often open up combat by casting cloudkill and then letting their minions, unaffected by the poison, have their way with the opposition. Grave hags can put a curse on their victims, making them more enticing for the undead to attack. However, if forced to hand-to-hand combat, a grave hag can give as good as she gets, often using digging tools like shovels or mattocks as improvised weapons with surprising skill.

A grave hag usually stands between 5 and 6 feet tall and weighs between 120 and 180 pounds. The bloody sores she naturally sports on her body can make her look crippled and weak, but are merely cosmetical and do not hinder the grave hag in any way other than giving her an unsightly appearence. When a grave hag joins a coven, the coven adds harm to its spell-like abilities and shares the grave hag’s negative healing ability, but a grave hag will rarely join a coven that doesn’t have either herself or a night hag as leader.

[comicaurora]

My younger sisters and I are brand-new fans of you and your work, and I've been asked to pass on some questions! From my youngest sister (who originally asked for your autograph before I told her this was online): Are you planning on adding any more maps to the website? From my other sister: Do you have tips for figuring out plot and pacing for a webcomic? From me: What's been your favorite thing about writing Erin and Falst's dynamic? After re-reading Aurora, they're probably my favorite duo.

Aww! Welcome to the party!

1: Maybe! I don't have other maps currently done, and making more is kind of a low priority right now, but it could be fun when I have the time!

2: That's a big question and it's not super easy to answer, but the short tip I can give is reread some of your previous pages/storyboards before adding new pages to a scene, because that way you'll get a feel for what pacing works and what might need a little more time. Sometimes when I'm dealing with artblock I'll just reread the pages and go "what do I expect to see next?" and then just. draw that. and thus far it's really helped with my pacing. Also I suggest having at least one Thing happen on each page - one bit of information revealed, one change in the paradigm or trajectory of the situation - just one thing. In general I think it's more important for a webcomic to hold up on a reread than it does to hold up during the daily update process, since archive pacing is the one the vast majority of your readers will be dealing with, but it's good to give the readers at least one thing to chew on with every update.

3: I love how they're both extremely abrasive in completely opposing ways! Falst is rude and flippant while Erin wields etiquette and social rules like a weapon. However, Erin also actively respects Falst's intellectual curiosity and ability to teach himself lacrimal spellcarving, and is the only person who has encouraged Falst to continue that line of research - Erin completely dismisses his physical combat skills as largely irrelevant because Erin thinks combat only happens if he's failed to problem-solve sufficiently, and he instead focuses on Falst's intellectual curiosity, a level of respect for a peer that I don't think Falst has realized he enjoys. Falst, in turn, thinks of Erin as a bit too book-smart rather than street-smart, but appreciates what that book-smartness is capable of. There's a level of mutual hostility and mutual respect that I deeply enjoy writing, because these two are the quickest to start arguing with each other without either one actually blowing up or doing any irreparable damage.

[more-than-a-princess]

14. What is the most annoying fact or trait or fanon that is attached to your muse and bothers you?

More Munday Questions - Accepting!

So, I received this question twice for this meme and I'm going to answer them separately. Mostly as after writing this muse for over five years now and writing text-based roleplay for over two decades, I've had a lot of time to think about this.

But for this specific ask, I'm going to focus on the Sonia Nevermind-specific things that bother me about her character and the fanon interpretation, while I'll leave some of the tropes that get attached to this muse for the next one.

Finally, if you haven't played any of the Danganronpa games: Spoilers ahead for everything.

So, in no particular order:

The idea that Sonia is stupid/dumb/an idiot. I absolutely hate this take for one reason: she's not. She's sheltered, there is a difference.

Sonia cannot have all the skills that even the canon insists she have without being pretty smart, at least on an intellectual level. She has some degree in fluency in thirty languages, alongside knowledge in a variety of academic subjects as well as military training and diagnostic medicine.

Does she get phrases and slang mixed up? Absolutely. But Japanese isn't her first language. It probably isn't even her fifth language, at least in my headcanons for her. And she's learned colloquial Japanese through anime, dramas, and film: not much in the way of practical, conversational skills.

Is she a bit naive? Absolutely. But again, she's sheltered: she's grown up in a castle where her every need was seen to, before attending the most exclusive private school in her country where she was, in the eyes of the students and staff, a celebrity.

Now, she's a little bit stupid when it comes to someone having genuine feelings for her (unlike Kazuichi's tendency to put her on a pedestal for superficial reasons) and she can't cook, clean, play/sing music, or draw/paint for the life of her. But she's not an idiot. She's actually pretty intuitive when it comes to other people, and she relishes in learning something new every day.

The idea presented in free time events that Sonia would happily share an equal amount of power and authority over Novoselic with Hajime simply because he looks like the hero of Novosonian lore.

I hate this scene so much. Out of every Sonia scene in every game, I despise this one the most. Because it reads, to me, that she's just sitting around waiting for a hero to save her because god forbid Kodaka and Danganronpa give women any real power, real agency, or anything to do with their lives that doesn't revolve around a man in this franchise, often the protag/hero (and yes I will still argue this applies in UDG even with Komaru as the protag). It's already been pretty well-established that this series sucks at depicting female characters for the most part (to the point they couldn't even allow for a female protag in V3 without killing her off. I would have loved to see the game fully through Kaede's eyes instead of Shuichi's for many reasons!), but this particular Sonia scene takes the cake for me.

Therefore, I refuse to acknowledge it exists and will choose instead to write Sonia as a woman who, while being born into her role as heir to the throne, will do everything in her power to make it feel rightfully earned and not relinquish it to anyone.

That Sonia should have died in the simulation because she's seen as useless compared to the other survivors.

Nope nope nope. Sonia may not be one for physical combat or hands-on technical skills, but that doesn't make her useless. She is clever and she is compassionate, and those two things are very important to hold onto as the survivors rediscover their hope and the desire to break out of the simulation and live.

Also Kodaka was a chickenshit who didn't let her actually use a tank, despite sharing the fact she has military training. Lame. Waiting for the terrible OVA to actually show Sonia using any of her skills was a poor choice (but it blessed us with icons).

That Sonia is a waste because she comes between/interrupts a Kazuichi/Gundham (Soudam) romance and therefore must be made evil/killed off/removed in some other fashion from the series.

Ah, another fandom take that makes me grimace.

Listen, I lived through the Gundam Wing years and have been a Relena fan since I was a young teenager. I went through it in that fandom and I've gone through it in Danganronpa.

There is enough space for every ship in every fandom. You don't need to vilify a character to make your ship 'valid.' Especially if that character happens to be female. Personally, I'm not a big fan of Soudam myself (I just don't see the chemistry there tbh!) but I'll never harass or shame other fans who enjoy it. Yet I've seen a lot of misogyny where Sonia is concerned by avid Soudam fans, declaring Sonia being romantically involved with either Gundham or Kazuichi is boring at best, disgusting at worst.

For shippers who think like this, do better.

[shark-myths]

🍓 🥤 🌿 for the ask game!!!! <333

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction? 

one of my favorite k facts tbh. i invented fanfiction at jesus camp with my new friend eden. we clutched each other on a hillside while a god rock band performed below, puffy with mosquito bites and illicit ideas, and whispered to one another of the members of our mutual favorite band, what if they kissed each other? we were 13 years old. camp was so in-the-middle-of-nowhere you could see the whole milky way at night, the thickness of it. the grass got wetter and wetter the longer you sat in the dark, hiding from the flashlights of your counselors. every few breaths you'd see a shooting star, til you were numb to marvel, til that was just what the night sky looked like and you expected it everywhere. it was magic and no one had ever thought of it before, boys in bands kissing. when we went home to our separate cities, i started handwriting fic (decorated with gel pen! this was the year 2003) and mailing it to her in hot pink envelopes. imagine my surprise when i discovered the internet.

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love

one of my favorite fics i ever read was a girl!one direction story about squirting. here it is: you change, water sea by got2ghost

🌿 ⇢ give some advice on writer's block and low creativity

love this question, as someone who has struggled in the workplace to maintain the same creative energy i had access to in school.

for creativity: read. read endlessly. try to understand on a granular, sentence-and-word-level, why you like the things you like; what makes a line funny, what makes a line scary, what draws you in to a writer's style vs pushes you out of it. what do the books you can't put down have in common? read things that challenge you--long-form novels, old novels, things way outside your preferred genres. and try to have lots of experiences in the time you aren't writing. try new things! paint something, walk down a block you've never been on, look in people's windows, cook a new meal, get coffee at a new place, go for a drive, listen to someone else's favorite record, listen to a record you hate actually, go to a new store and just look around, touch fabrics, dance, have conversations, travel for no reason, watch videos on youtube about new skills you don't intend to master. READ NONFICTION, especially essays. try to avoid doing the same things you're comfortable with or things that feel easy for a whole afternoon. bury yourself in sensation. chase pleasure. let yourself play.

for writer's block: write anyway--in a journal, in your fragmented notes file with ideas, edit or polish something that's already written, get one sentence out. i like to set a timer for 20 minutes and give it a proper try (this means staying off tumblr and my phone) and then, if it doesn't lead to anything, i'm off the hook guilt-free, because i made an effort. try writing in a different notebook, with a different pen, in a different place, even in a different font on your computer. set yourself challenges like, write a 100 word story. write a specific type of poem like a villanelle. respond to a prompt or create one for someone else. if there's a part of the story--or a different story--that feels more easeful to write and you're just trying to get there, skip to that part. to be quite honest, writing in a notebook away from technology is the #1 thing that helps me just keep moving. it breaks me out of distraction and perfectionism cycles. it feels good to fill pages, even if it's with words you don't even up using.

the other part is, accept that our brains won't do what they won't do. great writing is not created by use of force. the biggest thing i have learned about myself is that if i can't write, there's something wrong. maybe the characters in my story aren't making sense, maybe the plot is boring and readers will be just as bored as i am, maybe i need to go back and rewrite something to end up in a better place for the next scene, maybe i need a week off from a story because i'm burned out on it and i should write something else or nothing at all. but most often there's not something wrong with the story--there's something wrong with my life. i don't have the time or the energy; i'm giving too much of the best parts of myself to the wrong thing; i'm trying to write at the wrong time of day for my energy level; i checked my email first and now my concentration is entirely shot; i need to work fewer hours if i want to write more; i need more help around the house if i want to write more; i need to just let it be dirty for a while and skip my chores if i want to write more, etc. figuring out what you need to actually feel like writing--learn to feel that again!--and making it possible to set other things, even important things, aside in order to write when you feel it, is so huge for me. making a commitment to the practice of writing and not the product of it. if you're doing that, you can relax. take care of yourself and fix the imbalances in your life. the ideas will come. writing is organic and we are organisms. given space and time, things will always change from how they are right now. let yourself and your creative practice ebb and flow when it needs to instead of forcing it to be something it's not.

thank you for the ask darling sorry i ranted at you for twenty fucking minutes!!!

[genericpuff]

Hello. I wasn’t the anon from last time but I realized my question came off as rude and standoff-ish. it was actually just a genuine question of whether you think all webtoon original creators are/should be held to the same level of scrutiny as LO is. You said before that its okay for indie comics to look messy or unprofessional because they’re passion projects. But I was just thinking of all the webtoon originals that are overworked and under paid. Kind of makes me feel bad because webtoon presents them as professional works— yet treats them like indie projects. And its throwing them under the bus because they dont have any of the same resources as traditional print. When rachel gets called out for reusing panels/artworks, adding filler, and taking shortcuts it sets a precedent that all webtoon originals shouldn’t do that.

Oh you're good!!! Sorry if I came at you like a flying monkey, it was just very similar to the last set of asks so I made a faulty assumption LOL

I do think there's a lot of responsibility on WT's shoulders to do better by their creators. A lot of them are burnt out, underpaid, overworked, as you said, and I'm definitely not looking past that. The only reason I get on Rachel's case as much as I do is because she has WAY more assistants than others, people who are literally industry professionals (seriously, look up their socials/art pages sometime, some of these people literally work in the larger entertainment industries like movies and gaming, it makes it feel like their skills are being SEVERELY wasted on LO with how bad it looks week after week) and there's just a lot of evidence that points to how much Rachel lies about how much she contributes (she's also definitely one of the top earning creators on the platform, at least here in NA). That's not even getting into how much WT carries Rachel and LO on their shoulders, from giving LO extensive ad space every week (ad space that's constantly being fought for by other Originals creators who are lucky to get even a couple hours per season in the ad roulette) to outright paying for awards and articles to be written about it. Like, far be it from me to make assumptions as an outsider looking in, but I don't get the sense that Rachel is in the same ballpark of struggling that a lot of Originals creators are. If anything there are probably creators struggling to be seen right now because of WT constantly giving her and her comic preferential treatment over others. And yeah, that's on Webtoons, but you don't exactly see Rachel doing anything to lift up her peers or talk about her experiences with Webtoons the same way many other creators are and that says a lot IMO.

And, speaking as a creator and as a reader, I'm definitely not against the notion of webtoon creators using whatever shortcuts they need to use, but I still feel like there's a line you gotta draw somewhere before those shortcuts become definitively "lazy" low quality crutches. Those kinds of shortcuts can become a very slippery slope between "doing the best you can" and "making no effort at all". If I can use a creator who's not Rachel as an example, Let's Play has a LOT of this kind of thing going on.

I can totally empathize with needing to use shortcuts, I use them all the time and I'm not being burnt at both ends the same way Originals creators are, but while there is the concern that criticizing them sets a precedent that people shouldn't use them ever, there's the opposite concern that not talking about it when it's very obviously cheap sets a precedent that it's okay to give your audience garbage and still expect them to stick around and pay money for your work.

It's not really a battle that sits squarely on the shoulders of the creators, though, a lot of it does come down to Webtoons. But I think there are also creators who are just sorta like that. See Snailords as an example, they use WT underpaying them all the time as an argument/excuse for their behavior, but they're a genuinely shitty person with a nasty attitude who very blatantly manipulates their young audience (literally made up of children!) and they've been like that since before they joined WT as an Originals creator, so it doesn't matter if WT is in the picture or not, Snailords is just like that.

When it comes to Rachel, I genuinely believe that she wasn't always like this with her work, there was a time when she put actual effort into her art - but that time has been long gone since 2019/2020. And I don't think WT paying her more or loosening the strictness of her deadlines is the solution, I just think LO should have ended a long time ago before it got to that point. When LO's art and writing started to turn, there was that initial concern that it was her taking these shortcuts out of necessity for her health and work/life balance... but then there's a point where it becomes abundantly clear that the creator just doesn't care anymore and I think that's a point Rachel crossed a long time ago, probably around the start of S2 if I had to try and guess exactly where.

When it comes right down to it, Webtoons Originals is still a form of publisher, and if you sign that contract, you're going to be held to higher standards than creators who aren't because you're no longer a hobbyist, you're doing this as your job. That's not to say you don't deserve empathy ever, especially in the working climate that WT demands, but if you're gonna be working as a professional in an industry that's begging to be respected among its peers, you gotta hold yourself to higher standards. To really get across what I mean by that, if the webtoon/webcomic industry wants to be taken seriously, especially here in the west where it's competing with DC and Marvel, maaaybe it should at least have some modicum of quality control to ensure there's a mutual level of respect between the audience and the creator. I think that's something WT needs to be taking more seriously and, by extension, they should be doing more to both provide assistance and accommodations to their creators as well as quality control to ensure they're holding these works to a standard they expect people to pay for. This is especially true for a comic like LO which they're insisting still has a show in development (they aren't but that's another topic lol), of course people are gonna have higher standards for a comic that's won as many awards as it has and has gotten television and merch deals.

And aside from all that, I don't think anyone gets mad right off the bat at a comic that isn't "perfect", usually they'll just go "oh okay, this is what the comic is, it's not for me" and move on (Religiously Gay is an example of a comic like this, there was already a lot of controversy surrounding it when it came out but it was pretty clear that was just what the comic was so I didn't bother reading it further). It's when a comic starts off on a good note and builds that rep and then becomes a cheap reproduction of what it used to be that audiences tend to get more upset - because the creator has built that rep with them and set those expectations, which they're now failing. Look no further than S8 of Game of Thrones. It's often WAY more disappointing than a project just never improving in quality in the first place because you're seeing, in real time, a project you know can do better fail at that and even get worse.

I'll also mention, on a personal note, that I've found shortcuts that I tried and ultimately didn't end up liking, even if they technically improved the output of my work. I started using 3D models last year for my main project, and while they improved my anatomy consistency, now they're making my poses feel very stiff, lifeless and boring, and my characters just don't feel alive anymore. So I'd MUCH rather have expressive art that's a little messy sometimes than stiff art with an accurate hip to torso ratio. I still aim for consistency as best I can, obviously I don't want my characters' appearances to be morphing from panel to panel, but in practice, most people don't care or notice if an arm or leg is a little out of place.

All that said, when it comes to LO, I don't call that stuff out as like, a genuine legit criticism. It's more just because it's hilarious and I often can't believe I never noticed those things (which is exactly the former point I just mentioned at play, most people don't notice these things). So that's where I'll repeat, don't confuse my shitposting of LO and how silly it can look in hindsight with like, legitimate criticism that I would blanket apply to every project I read. Apply common sense where necessary. Don't ever punch down.

And maybe also just don't use me as a monolith for these things, I'm literally just a guy talking shit on the Internet and participating in some of the worst that fandom culture has to offer LOL Time will tell if I will ever pay for my crimes（；´д｀）ゞ

[jojo-schmo]

My old Good Omens art from 2019-2020!! :O (In somewhat chronological order)

In the interest of sharing my art in one place, I thought I'd revisit this era of my art! I made much more traditional art at the time. But I like thinking about the evolution of my skills over the past few years.

Director's commentary below:

I believe the first four images are from 2019, when the first season of GO came out. Boy, did that show come out at a good time for me! I was in a deep art slump that had lasted for a few years at that point. Long story short, because of untreated depression and a chronic illness that brought me physical pain, I didn't get everything I wanted to get out of college classes and I was deeply self-conscious of my skill level. I knew I wanted to tell stories but I was frustrated that I seemingly couldn’t make my ideas come to life at all.

Being alive was very difficult for me at the time and I was fighting my own dark and negative thoughts that I directed towards myself constantly. I didn't see a psychiatrist until the Spring of 2020, and only then did things start getting better. If I had to describe it, it's like a storm in my head finally cleared. The weight on my shoulders lightened up a lot. I had enough mental clarity to gain more self-awareness and really work on myself. And that included my art. And it shows a little in the last few drawings.

(Side note, I am much, much better now. Medication and ongoing therapy has completely changed the quality of my life. I am very happy to be here!)

Anyway, I was making efforts to get better at drawing after college by taking Aaron Blaise's online art classes. (Side note, his class on drawing human anatomy helped me immensely!!) But it was just the beginning of a long art improvement journey!

But I see the stiffness and insecurity that was still present in my art from that time. Whenever I shared it on Twitter (which was my main social media at the time) I'd be lucky to hit ten notes. It didn't bother me all the time, but it did get discouraging as time went on. Until one day I decided to just deal with it. Whatever the reason was that nobody was seeing my art- whether it was due to the Twitter algorithm or if my art was just not appealing enough. I was going to keep drawing. If nobody clicked the like heart on my art, fine! I was going to keep throwing it into the void anyway and see what sticks. If it got ten likes or one I tried not to care as much.

My transition from drawing what I thought other people wanted to see, to drawing what made me happy, made a huge difference. Likes and reblogs do feel really good, but I'm happy to hear even what one person likes about my work. I try to keep that mindset with me as much as I can. And I'm not perfect at it. But it helps me a lot.

Of course that transition in my mindset was gradual. Took place over a few years. But I realized lately that I have a confidence in my art that I've never had before. And I'm really happy about that!!

All this to say, whether you've been drawing/writing for ten years, one year, or a few months, it's always nice to remember where you came from and far you've come.

Looking back, I wish I could tell my past self that her best was yet to come. And I still have a long way to go but I'm excited to see what I can make in the coming years!

If I had one preachy piece of advice to offer as a final note, remember that the ability to draw and write is an awesome skill to have. A skill that not every human being has. But a skill that can be developed and cultivated over time if nurtured. It's a beautiful thing to me, to be able to create something that didn't exist before. Something that only you can bring to life. And while it might not resonate with everyone who sees it, it might resonate with one person. And I love that. So when you can, create things that make you happy, the happiness might just be contagious to its viewers. <3

...I think I should draw some more Good Omens sometime soon. I miss those guys and they are dear to me :)

[which-qsmp-egg-would]

The First Memory

-----

Tequilla wakes up slowly in the dim morning light, his sibling still fast asleep next to him. It's laying nearly sideways in their bed, clutching a blue bunny stuffie that has been here far longer than he has. Their leg twitches as they dream. He's been happy, living here for this past month.

Has it really only been a month? He feels like there should have been some kind of celebration for that milestone.

He's been getting those faraway feelings for as long as he can remember. Which, admittedly, is not that long. His earliest memory is waking up in that forest all alone, wander for several days foraging for scraps, running and hiding (where did he learn those skills? Who taught him?). He wonders if his memory has always been bad. Poll told him that she hasn't noticed him forgetting anything lately, so maybe he just bumped his head. That's how it goes in the cartoons. You just bump your head a little and get amnesia, right? Then your friends show you something familiar and every memory comes back all at once.

Maybe they've been doing it wrong or something. The child's drawing, the bedroom, even his own grave haven't stirred any memories. Not even the items he's carried in his bag for weeks have stirred anything. Sometimes he considers getting rid of them, they're junk items anyways, but there's a weird gut feeling that makes him feel icky if he tries.

He wishes he knew what happened to them. He hopes they know he's okay. They seemed to care about him.

He wishes he missed them.

Tequilla paws at his eyes and sniffles. He's got to be the big kid now.

His mind feels fuzzy from sleep, eyes bleary.

From the kitchen, a voice emerges, loud and happy and full of love.

"Tequilla, my little peanut, come get your breakfast!"

Carefully, he slides out of bed. Poll's papa doesn't make breakfast very often, so this must be a special treat. Maybe it's for that celebration? He really feels like a month is cause for celebration.

The click of his claws on the hardwood echos in his mind as he pads down the hallway. The light from the windows startles him temporarily, and he rubs at his eyes to make the feeling go away. "Stardust," he mumbles, "what d-did you make for br-breakfast?"

...

He blinks a few times at what he's seeing.

There's a woman in the kitchen. Her curly brown hair cascades down her face and up into a bun, held up by a ribbon bow. Her face is full and wonderful, with golden eyes and large curling horns adorning her head. Her ears droop like his, but with soft brown fur on the inside and outside. Her outfit is overwhelmingly pink, consisting of a large poofy dress with many layers of tule and puffy short sleeves, frills decorating the ends of the sleeves and collar. Around her waist, nestled under her breast, is a large pink ribbon. Her feet are bare, but her wrists are adorned with large golden bands. She's a fat woman, something she always took pride in. She's only a few inches shorter than Dad.

"M..." Tequilla reaches out towards her, taking a short step forward.

She smiles and laughs, extending her hands out in an offering of a hug. "C'mere baby."

"M-momma!" He sobs, running to her with reckless abandon, burying his face in her plush dress.

She hugs him close and wipes the tears from his eyes. "What's wrong baby? Did you have a nightmare?"

Tequilla nods, leaning into her hand. "Momma I mmissed you s-s-so m-much." He struggles to speak through his sobs.

She tuts, crouching down to his level. He feels like a hatchling again, crying over breaking his marker by accident. "I'm not going anywhere, peanut."

"Wh-where did you go? Why can't I ffind you?" He asks through tears.

She cups his face. "I haven't gone anywhere, baby, I'm right here. That must have been some nightmare you had, huh?"

"I guess." He mumbles. "Where's... Wh-where's..." He trails off.

"C'mon golden boy, I've got your breakfast over here." She pats his shoulders, stands up, and pulls him along behind her.

He looks around the room, familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Everything feels tilted in his mind's eye, slightly too bright. Too saturated.

"Momma? Where's... Wh..." His tail wraps around his leg. "Why can't I remmember their n-names? Why can't I r-remember their f-faces? What happened to mme, Momma? Where did I g-go?" He shakes her arm, tugs on her dress, does anything to get her to turn around and look at him.

Finally she turns around, a gentle smile on her lips. Her face is obscured now, like it's been scrubbed away by a sponge and covered over with marker. The bright world around him peels and bleeds away like an old painting, leaving just him and the woman in a dark void.

He hugs her tightly, eyes closed so he doesn't see what used to be her face. She strokes his hair as everything melts away.

Slowly, the world around him returns. He can feel the tears streaming down his face, the cold tile under his claws, the lights of the early morning. He squeezes tighter onto whatever he's holding onto.

What is he holding ont-

Tequilla jolts back, looking up at a concerned Stardust. His eyes catch onto their goatlike horns.

His cheeks burn. "S-s-ss-s-s-" He covers his mouth. "S-sorry, Stardust," he says with a little more concentration. "I d-d-don't know what that was."

It looks at him in the same way it looks at Poll when it communicates.

"S-sorry, I still can't understand you. I'll-I'll go wake up Poll."

Stardust grabs his hand, stopping him in his tracks. It holds his hand between two of it's own. It presses his hand against his heart, and it's own where a human heart would be.

He hasn't figured out how to understand Poll's papa yet, but it's meaning seems clear.

"Th-thankss, D- Stardust."

He walks back to the bedroom, tracing the markings on his arms.

[kon4ka]

Challenge: Drawing D&D classes - Topic 12 - Monk 2

🌊 Monk of the path of the Four Elements - Astra 🌊

Race: Human Alignment: Lawful good Background: Hermit.

📘 Backstory: Since childhood, Astra has never been truly happy with life. As a child, she was a very weak child, so her body prevented her from living. Whatever she does, wherever she is, she did not feel calm, safe. And from childhood she was drawn to water in every possible way. She spent so much time by the river in her village that she was nicknamed "the water one." This would have continued if their village had not turned out to be the epicenter of a showdown between two kingdoms and it was simply burned, considering that the residents were sheltering the enemy. The river saved her. When the wooden village was blazing like a torch, Astra jumped into the water and tried to swim across the river, but her strength was clearly not enough. And when she began to drown, someone pulled her by the hand onto a log… But she was alone… She was carried into the city down the river. She was found by a fisherman while collecting his nets. He brought the girl home, she was unconscious.

The fisherman's wife and her children left Astra, she came to her senses and, in order to repay, helped the father of the family with fishing. But first of all, she tried to return upstream, hoping for no one knows what. But there was only ashes and clay skeletons of houses. She returned to the fisherman's family with nothing, but from then on her life turned into a nightmare. At night, dreams haunted her, and during the day she herself was like a ghost, filled with longing for unknown reasons. Everything changed after she decided to work as a guide and did not lead one group of adventurers to a nearby dungeon. They traveled for several days and one of the adventurers at an evening halt saw this “irrepressible melancholy” in Astra, which greatly frightened her. But he said that if she wanted to get rid of this, then after the dungeon, he would return to the city and take her to where she would be helped. And so it happened. The adventurer monk on the way back brought her to the temple of the elementals and left her there. And only there did she learn that her weak body was unable to withstand her predisposition to spiritual practices, which is why she felt so bad all this time and why she was so drawn to water. Astra began to learn and gradually she was able to balance her stamina and her abilities.

✒ Character: A very caring girl, she enjoys helping others and tries to be useful even if she herself is feeling bad. She can explode with anger, but this is rare and for this it takes a long time to bring her up. No matter who you are surrounded by, still lonely in some ways, but it’s not the oppressive loneliness and melancholy that I had in my youth. This loneliness helps her see things differently. Astra knows how to take care of others and knows how to do it.

🌀 Skills: Swims like she breathes, her control over water is excellent, other elements are at an average level, except fire, due to injury, she found it difficult to use, so she deliberately avoided techniques involving it. He is not very good with weapons, using water instead, or, at worst, his own fists.

✨ Features: She is generally not susceptible to colds and has a higher freezing threshold than others. She always has water with her. She dances well. Her magic is not just fighting techniques, but her way of living and expressing herself.

RU

🌊 Монах пути Четырёх стихий - Астра 🌊

Раса: Человек Мировоззрение: Законопослушно доброе Предыстория: Отшельник.

📘 Предыстория: С самого детства Астра никогда не была по настоящему довольна жизнью. В детстве она была очень слабым ребёнком, поэтому её тело мешало ей жить. Чем бы она не занималась, где бы не находилась, она не чувствовала себя спокойно, в безопасности. И с самого детства её тянуло к воде всеми возможными способами. Она так много времени проводила у реки в своей деревне, что её прозвали "водяной". Так бы и продолжалось, если бы их деревня не оказалась эпицентром разборок двух королевств и её просто сожгли, посчитав что жители укрывают врага. Река спасла её. Когда деревянная деревня полыхала словно факел, Астра прыгнула в воду и попыталась переплыть реку, но её сил явно не хватало. И когда она уже начала тонуть, кто-то вытянул её за руку на бревно… Но она была одна… Её вынесло в город вниз по реке. Её нашел рыбак, собирая сети. Он принёс девочку домой, она была без сознания. Жена рыбака и её дети выходили Астру, она пришла в себя и чтобы отплатить, помогала с рыбалкой отцу семейства. Но первым делом она попыталась вернуться вверх по течению, неизвестно на что надеясь. Но там было лишь пепелище и глиняные остовы домов. Ни с чем она вернулась к семье рыбака, но с того времени её жизнь превратилась в кошмар. Ночью ей не давали покоя сны, а днём она сама была словно приведение, преисполнена тоски неизвестно по чему. Всё изменилось после того как она решила подработать проводником и не провела одну группу преключенцев к подземелью неподалёку. Они добирались несколько дней и один из авантюристов на вечернем привале разглядел в Астре эту "неуёмную тоску" чем очень напугал её. Но он сказал, что если она хочет избавиться от этого, то после подземелья, он вернется в город и проводит её туда, ��де ей помогут. Так и случилось. Авантюрист монах на обратном пути привёл её в храм стихийников и оставил там. И только там узнала, что её слабое тело не в силах выдержать её предрасположенность к духовным практикам, поэтому ей было так плохо всё это время и поэтому её так тянуло к воде. Астра начала учиться и постепенно она смогла сбалансировать свою выносливость и свои способности.

✒ Характер: Очень заботливая девушка, испытывает удовольствие от помощи другим и старается приносить пользу даже если ей самой плохо. Она может взорваться гневом, но это редкость и для этого её нужно долго доводить. Кем бы ни была окружена, всё ещё одинока в каком-то смысле, но это не то гнетущее одиночество и тоска, что были в юности. Это одиночество помогает ей смотреть на вещи иначе. Астра умеет заботится о других и умеет это делать.

🌀 Навыки: Плавает как дышит, её контроль над водой превосходен, другие стихии на среднем уровне, кроме огня, из-за травмы, ей сложно им пользоваться, так что она сознательно избегала техник с ним связанных. Не очень хорошо владеет оружием, используя воду вместо него, ну или собственные кулаки на худой конец.

✨ Особенности: Вообще не подвержена простуде и у неё выше порог замерзания чем у прочих. Вода при ней всегда. Хорошо танцует. Её магия это не просто техники боя а её способ жить и самовыражаться.