#grub farming

[mistfallengw2]

So, for those of you who do alt-parking with your characters, I wanna know if that's something that you worked into their story!

[chaotic-minds-think-alike]

Something so bad happened to me I’m riding my bike again and cleaning my room and drawing what happened here

[sarayashikidays]

Posting this to remind myself to finish up that Mukuro and Hiei mini comic after comm work tongiht!!

[arolesbianism]

Also in my current main oni playthrough I'm at 22 duplicants and my goal for the playthrough is to get all of them so I'm abt halfway there but god damn do I not have enough space for more of these fuckers I'm going to be able to shove some more into my two newest colonies on the two planetoids I've traveled to so far but one of them like Just got started so it's going to be a while before I'm confident in upscaling it, and the other one is mostly made up of radioactive biomes and salt water biomes with the only more livable biomes being at the very edges and the very bottom of the map, so while I do have a pretty stable base getting set up over there it's going to be pretty obnoxious getting the living space set up due to how little space I have in my current main base area and how far away the other forest biomes are from that. On the bright side I found the mysterious hermit home on the brand new planetoid so I at least don't have to worry abt him as much, although I'm gonna be real idk how I'm going to get food production up and running since there's like No dirt, and I don't rly want to have to send someone back up through the surface magma biome to pick up any dropped off supplies.

[moonselune]

I've been playing alot of harvest moon/stardew recently and was wondering how the companions would react to a tav or durge prefering to settle down for the farming life post game. I know Shadowheart would love it anyway but Astarion would be the type to groan about the summer heat at times.

Btw love your work ❤️

Awh thank you! I freaking love stardew valley, I actually got to the point where I would see things in real life and be like oh i need that for my bundle...

Minthara:

Minthara had agreed to come with you back to your little patch of dirt. That was the first miracle.

She stood at the edge of the field, arms crossed, eyes narrowed at the rows of squash you'd lovingly planted weeks ago. Her elegant armor had been swapped—begrudgingly—for leather trousers and a dark green blouse with the sleeves rolled up. She claimed she only wore it because it “blended well with the shadows.”

In reality, she looked dangerously attractive, and you told her so often enough that it stopped earning you eye rolls.

“I still don’t see the appeal,” she muttered one morning, kneeling beside you in the loamy soil as you both weeded a row of carrots. “Endless dirt. Scratching at the ground like a deep gnome grub. You truly believe this is more fulfilling than conquering the Underdark?”

You grinned, pushing your hair back and letting the sun warm your face. “The carrots don’t scream when I pull them out of the ground.”

Minthara snorted—an actual laugh, short and sharp. She caught herself, frowning like she hadn’t meant to let it slip.

“I could grow mushrooms,” she said after a pause. “Real mushrooms. Not these surface-dwelling imitations.”

You perked up. “You want to farm?”

“I do not want to farm,” she snapped, yanking a weed a little too aggressively. “I simply think someone must bring standards to this pitiful excuse for agriculture.”

That night, you caught her carefully organizing mushroom spores in neat rows in the shaded part of the garden, whispering Drow words of encouragement under her breath.

And every evening, she helped you without complaint. She said it was only because you were “hopeless on your own,” but there was a softness in her touch when she handed you tools, when she brushed dirt from your face. Once, she found a fat, horned beetle in the lettuce patch and spent nearly an hour observing it before letting it crawl onto her hand and releasing it at the edge of the forest.

“I could get used to this,” she murmured that night, curled beside you on the porch. The stars glittered above like Underdark crystal formations, distant and sharp.

“You already have,” you whispered back.

She didn’t argue.

Karlach:

Karlach loved it from the very first moment she stepped onto the farm.

“This place is sick!” she bellowed, boots thudding across the dirt as she chased one of the goats around the field. “Look at this little beastie—oh, she’s got attitude! Just like me!”

You could barely keep up with her enthusiasm.

Where you had slowly learned the rhythm of the fields, Karlach plunged headfirst into it—planting, harvesting, repairing fences with her bare hands. She named every single animal and gave them nicknames too. Your prize ram? “Sir Headbutt.” The hen with the limp? “Motherclucker”

You’d wake some mornings to find her sitting in the barn, curled up with your herd of goats, one snoring against her shoulder as she scratched behind its ears.

You stood in the doorway, arms folded. “I’m starting to think you love the goats more than me.”

Karlach looked up, grinning that wild, warm grin. “Babe. You don’t chew cud and you hog the blankets. These little sweeties are pure, no complaints.”

You made a show of gasping in betrayal, and she laughed so hard she nearly toppled into the hay.

She was clumsy with gardening, planting seeds so deep they never saw the light of day, but she didn’t care.

“I’m all about the brawn of the operation, baby!” she said, hoisting a broken fence post like a weapon of war. “You’re the one with the gentle hands. You’re the heart. I’m just the muscle.”

You couldn’t count how many times you found her fixing things, adding improvements. She built a rainwater system for the fields, oiled the hinges of every barn door, and even made a small, hand-carved sign with all the names of the animals.

She hung it crooked on purpose.

And on summer days, when the sun burned and the sweat clung to your back, she'd scoop water straight from the well and splash it over both of you, laughing as you sputtered.

“You look good with dirt on your nose,” she’d say, brushing it off with her calloused thumb.

And you’d smile, because she was the kind of fire that didn’t burn—it warmed. And here, among the goats and gardens and peace, her flame could finally just... flicker, without fear.

Lae'zel:

No one had expected Lae’zel to take well to the slow life of a farm. She had always been all sharp angles, roaring fire, and a blade ready at a moment’s notice. But then again—no one had expected her to stay, either. And she did. With you.

What none of you accounted for was how seriously she’d take the training of the livestock.

"These creatures lack discipline!" she declared one morning, standing in the field, arms crossed and unimpressed as a trio of goats casually ignored her barking orders and continued to gnaw on the same patch of fence they’d been told—repeatedly—not to chew.

She turned to you, eyes narrowed. “Do they understand Common?”

"They understand,” you said, trying not to laugh as a particularly rebellious chicken pecked at her boot. “They just don’t care.”

You would have offered to help, but you were too busy melting at the sight of Xan, the tiny Githyanki infant wrapped securely to her chest in a sling you had made together. Lae’zel had first insisted that she didn’t need it—that she could carry her hatchling in her arms at all times like a proper warrior—but even she couldn’t argue with the convenience of two free hands. Especially for chicken combat.

You’d find her some mornings standing in the pasture, her face serious as she recited commands to the goats and hens like they were soldiers on a battlefield. "Form ranks! Maintain spacing! No, Clucker, no! That is not your perch—”

And all the while, little Xan would nap contentedly against her, a bundle of soft green skin and big yellow eyes, utterly unmoved by the chaos of the yard. Occasionally he’d gurgle and tug at her leathers with one hand. Every time you saw the two of them, your heart swelled nearly to bursting.

You leaned against the fence one afternoon, watching as a pig stubbornly refused to move out of Lae'zel's designated “training circle.”

“You know,” you said, grinning as she glared at it with more intensity than she had ever shown a goblin, ��maybe farming isn’t about commanding obedience.”

“It should be,” she replied sharply. “They would be more efficient.”

Still, you saw her lips twitch when a goat headbutted her in protest. And she didn’t stop them from clambering all over her later when you both sat in the grass and let Xan play in the sun.

Shadowheart:

The house was small, sun-dappled, and always smelled like hay and something baking. Scratch lay sprawled across the front steps most days, belly-up, completely spoiled. The owlbear—too big for the barn, too curious to be penned—had taken to nesting in the orchard, gently knocking apples from the trees like it was performing some kind of divine rite.

Shadowheart had fallen in love with it all faster than even she expected.

You found her in the mornings tending to the goats with a quiet, practiced grace, her long hair tied up messily, a smear of dirt across one cheek that she never noticed. Her cleric’s robes had been replaced with linen tunics and earth-toned skirts—though her armor still hung by the door, just in case.

“What happened to the chicken pen?” you asked once, only to be met with a long sigh and her pointing silently toward Scratch—muddy, feather-covered, and absolutely unrepentant.

You were never alone. Not really. The animals had adopted you both. Scratch followed you everywhere. The owlbear guarded the house like it was the holiest temple. You even had a few stray cats that Shadowheart swore she didn’t feed, but you caught her slipping them treats more often than not.

Still, there was one part of the land she hadn’t explored yet—because you were keeping it a secret.

You worked on it in the evenings, tucked away behind the western slope of the hill. A dozen rows of posts were driven deep into the soil, with the first few vines already climbing, green tendrils reaching for the sky. You’d been studying grape varieties, borrowing books from Gale, and mapping sun paths like your life depended on it.

And finally, one golden evening, you took her hand and said, “There’s something I want to show you.”

She followed without question, her fingers warm in yours, and when you rounded the hill, her breath caught.

“You—” she started. “You planted a vineyard?”

“For us,” you said simply. “I know you love wine. I thought… one day, you could make your own.”

She stared in stunned silence, eyes glossy in the light.

“This is…” Her voice trembled, and she smiled so wide you saw the dimples that only showed when she was truly, deeply happy. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it.”

“I do.” She launched herself at you, arms thrown around your neck, kissing you with such fervor that you stumbled backward into the half-dug earth. “You sappy, wonderful thing. I don’t deserve you.”

“You absolutely do,” you whispered, burying your face in her hair.

And from the other side of the hill, the owlbear let out a low hoot of approval—promptly followed by Scratch barking and barreling toward the two of you like a freight train.

“You know,” Shadowheart said as you braced for impact, “we might have too many animals.”

“I regret nothing.”

Jaheira:

Jaheira had said no at first.

She’d crossed her arms, brow furrowed in that eternally war-hardened way, and declared she was not the “settling down type.” A Harper, a druid, a warrior—too much duty still ran in her blood, and she wasn’t one to lie to herself.

And yet, you often found her on the porch in the morning, sleeves rolled up, tending to the basil or trimming back the ivy that tried to swallow the trellis. Her hands were calloused, steady, already shaped by years of coaxing life from the soil—and the moment she touched the earth here, she remembered. Not war. Not rebellion.

Peace.

She fit into the rhythm of the farm as if she’d always belonged. Milking the goats, harvesting herbs, reorganizing the tool shed within an inch of its life.

“A sharpened blade is less likely to betray you than a dull one,” she’d say when she caught you leaving shears in the dirt. You tried—gently—to get her to stop sometimes.

“Jaheira,” you’d say, handing her a mug of tea in the shade, “you’re supposed to relax. Remember that? The whole ‘breathing’ thing?”

She’d huff, but her smile would betray her.

“I’ll rest when the tomatoes stop growing unevenly,” she’d mutter, before adding with quiet fondness, “Besides… this is good work. Healing work.”

And the best days—the very best days—were when her children visited.

The younger ones would come tumbling down the trail with satchels and stories, running up to greet their mother, who stood like a pillar of strength at the garden gate. The number of times Jaheira had to pry Fig from a scarecrow as she was practising her 'wrestling moves' was one too many. You’d watch her soften visibly, smile lines crinkling, arms open as they piled into her.

They helped with the animals, with mixed results. One of them always ended up covered in chicken feathers, another face-first in a flowerbed, and Jaheira would roll her eyes while secretly delighting in every second of it.

It was domestic. Soft. Loud and messy and full of warmth.

Every now and then, you’d catch her staring out over the fields as the sun set, a quiet melancholy in her eyes. You knew she felt the pull of Harper duty—that someday, she’d have to return to that life. But she never pulled away from this one.

And you never stopped reminding her: “This moment is yours. Don’t let it slip away.”

Gale:

Gale loved farm life. Maybe a bit too much.

He delighted in every step of the process—from sowing seeds to baking fresh bread in the stone oven. He was the first to rise (with magically summoned coffee, of course), and the last to go to bed, always muttering about “optimal composting cycles” and “rotational planting enchantments.”

You never had to worry about the crops failing. Not when Gale enchanted the soil to stay perfectly moist and fertile. Not when your scarecrow occasionally waved to you and politely asked for new clothes.

And that might’ve been fine.

Until he started taking the produce to Blackstaff Academy.

"Look at this carrot!" he’d proclaim with the glee of a proud parent, holding up a perfectly orange, absolutely normal vegetable.

Then he’d bring it back.

And it would be the size of a horse’s leg, glowing faintly, humming with a magical pulse, and—for reasons unknown—smelling like cinnamon.

"Gale!" you’d exclaim. "It’s a carrot. It does not need to be arcane-tuned!"

“But imagine the nutritional value!” he’d insist, delighted. “It now increases constitution by two points for an hour! Also, I added a small glamour charm—look, it sparkles in the moonlight!”

You buried your face in your hands. “It was for stew. Now it looks like it is for a health potion with a beard.”

The tomatoes came back one week with eyes and a faint sense of existential dread. The potatoes exploded on contact with fire. A single cucumber once tried to recite Elminister.

You instituted a new rule: No magical alterations unless specifically requested.

Gale apologized with his signature dramatic charm, bowing deeply and presenting you with a bouquet of roses (grown in your garden, made of light, that sang quietly when touched). You forgave him. Eventually.

You did catch him sneaking a pumpkin to his satchel the next week. You pretended not to see it.

After all, the man who once swallowed a Netherese orb deserved a little whimsy.

But gods help him if your wine starts talking.

Astarion:

The summer sun blazed above your little stretch of farmland, turning the sky into a wide, cloudless expanse of light and heat. Cicadas sang from the trees. The golden fields shimmered. You were sweating through your shirt, but you'd gotten used to it by now. Not everyone had, though.

“I am wilting,” Astarion declared from the shade of a fig tree, fanning himself with a piece of parchment and looking like the most glamorous corpse in Faerûn.

You were knee-deep in the garden bed, dirt up to your elbows, pulling weeds with the satisfied sort of grunt that only came from knowing your tomatoes were going to thrill the next farmer’s market.

“You know, you are wearing a magical ring that lets you walk in the sun,” you reminded him, not even glancing back.

“Yes, and I am grateful,” he said in a tone that was both long-suffering and exasperated. “But that doesn’t mean I must enjoy it. Honestly, do farms not understand the concept of ‘shade’? Or a cool breeze? Or a bloody parasol?”

You chuckled and wiped sweat from your brow. “I can take the ring back, you know. Could always go back to lurking in crypts and brooding in velvet.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then: “How dare you.”

You turned just in time to see him stalk toward you, predator grace still intact despite his muttering.

“That was a threat, wasn’t it?” he said, tone mock-scandalized. “You’d condemn me to a shadowed existence just to win this argument?”

Before you could get a word out, Astarion planted both hands on your chest and shoved. You stumbled backward with a yelp, landing with a mighty splash in the nearby pond, water closing over your head with a slap. When you surfaced, spitting water and pushing your hair out of your face, he was at the edge of the pond, arms folded, grinning.

“Next time you threaten to take away my precious accessories,” he said smugly, “perhaps you’ll remember who you’re dealing with.”

“Oh, I remember,” you said, swimming toward him with a grin of your own. “I also remember that you’re a terrible swimmer.”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t you—!”

You grabbed his ankle and yanked. Astarion screeched like an offended seagull as he tumbled in after you, limbs flailing in the most elegant way a vampire can flail. The water swallowed him with a splash, and when he resurfaced, gasping, you were already laughing.

“Well,” you said, treading water beside him. “You’re cool now.”

His curls were plastered to his forehead, pale skin gleaming with pond water, clothes clinging in all the right places.

“I loathe you,” he hissed, completely unconvincing as he waded toward you.

“You love me,” you replied, and when he tried to dunk you under, you laughed even harder. He did try to drown you (with affection), and the pond echoed with splashes and laughter long into the afternoon.

Wyll:

Wyll loved the farm. Really, truly loved it. He dove into farm life with the same unshakable optimism he brought to battle: sleeves rolled up, a bright smile on his face, and an absolutely terrible sense of crop rotation.

“Look!” he said, beaming, holding up a vaguely wilted carrot. “That’s my fifth one! It only took me six tries!”

The carrot was... lopsided. And slightly blue.

You peered at it. “Wyll... did you plant it next to Gale’s ‘experimental vegetables’ again?”

He gave you a sheepish grin. “Maybe?”

Despite his noble upbringing, Wyll took to labor like it was second nature. He loved feeding the chickens (even if they pecked at his boots), singing as he milked the goats (who responded by trying to eat his shirt), and tending the soil (even if he constantly mixed up which plants needed full sun or partial shade).

But he tried. Gods, did he try.

He’d wake up before sunrise to help gather eggs and bring you wildflowers with muddy fingers and a bashful smile. He gave names to every single pumpkin, saluted the cows like old comrades, and taught the pigs how to sit. (One of them sort of learned. You suspected it was coincidence.)

The vegetables he harvested often ended up a little too bruised, or crooked, or tiny—but he presented them with the proud air of someone who had just defeated a demon lord.

“This one’s for you,” he’d say, placing a funny little beet in your hand like it was a diamond.

And honestly? It was perfect. Because Wyll’s joy was infectious. His laughter echoed over the fields. His presence made every sunrise feel warmer, every day brighter. Even if his corn always grew sideways.

“I might not be the best farmer,” he’d admit, rubbing the back of his neck, “but I’m exactly where I want to be.”

And when you kissed him, fingers brushing dirt from his cheek, you couldn’t help but agree.

Halsin:

If anyone was born to thrive on a farm, it was Halsin.

Where others groaned about early mornings and sore backs, Halsin greeted the day with that warm, deep voice and a calm certainty that made the roosters crow more enthusiastically. Shirtless more often than not, with the morning light catching on his golden skin and broad shoulders, he looked like a god of the harvest incarnate—muscles flexing as he hefted hay bales like they were pillows.

You tried not to gawk every time he wiped the sweat from his brow with the hem of his tunic.

(You failed often.)

“I thought you were a druid,” you teased one day, leaning on a fencepost, watching him load the cart with fresh hay. “Shouldn’t you be turning into a bear and napping under trees or something?”

Halsin smiled, the kind of smile that settled in your bones like warmth. “Being one with nature doesn’t mean shying away from hard work. Besides, the goats get nervous when I shift. And they like it when I talk to them.”

He said this while gently stroking the head of a particularly moody billy goat, who stared up at him like he hung the moon.

You raised a brow. “Are you telling them secrets?”

“I’m telling them not to eat your herb garden,” he said. “Again.”

It wasn’t just his strength or his ease with the animals—it was the way Halsin belonged here. The land responded to him. Trees leaned in closer. The soil felt richer. Even the bees seemed to hover around him longer than they should’ve. And when the chores were done and you sat together beneath the old oak with your hands dirty and your hearts full, it felt like everything was in balance.

He never rushed you, never questioned your need for this life. He only helped shape it into something stronger, steadier. More alive.

And when he pressed a kiss to your temple after a long day, murmuring about stew for dinner and the chickens needing checking, and building some new play equipment for the goats -and the orphans, you couldn't help but smile.

Because your druid? He wasn’t just a bear in the forest. He was the heart of this little farm.

OMG how freaking wholesome was this, I did it more as a drabble style as I kinda had rambling thoughts about this, but I hope you guys enjoyed this! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[prokopetz]

One of the occupational hazards of being so preoccupied with game design as a discipline is that sometimes I'll have dreams that are just some unknown force explaining an idea for a game to me, and last night I dreamed what is possibly the most obnoxious mechanical premise for a game I've ever come up with.

In brief, it was a traditional JRPG-style game with an atypical levelling-up scheme. Rather than gaining XP or levelling up at milestones, party members would grow in power by finding and absorbing or ingesting these little extradimensional parasites, represented in the dream as small grub- or fetus-like creatures with smiling humanoid faces. These parasites would be found as treasure and enemy drops, and could freely be given to any party member, except for the player character; the player character alone was unable to use them for Plot Reasons, and was entirely reliant on equipment to grow in power instead.

Absorbing a parasite both granted permanent stat boosts and unlocked weird psychic powers. However, they'd also cause progressive personality changes in the party members to which they were assigned, reflected by changes in dialogue and interactions, and eventually in granting or denying access to particular side quests. This function of the parasites was undocumented, and would likely go unnoticed by the player on their initial playthrough, as they'd level up as they went and would never see the unmodified dialogues.

A further wrinkle is that this effect was mediated by the game's expected progression. Farming parasites and "over-levelling" beyond where the game expected you to be would accelerate the personality changes, while going deliberately under-levelled would slow them (i.e., by giving your party members more time to acclimate to having bugs in their brains); like the personality changes themselves, the existence of these hidden modifiers would not be hinted at to the player.

If you spent a long enough stretch of the game sufficiently over-levelled, you'd eventually receive a non-standard game over where your party would betray, kill, and eat the player character. Furthermore, this non-standard ending had a deliberate "eclipse phase" whereby it would wait for a while after you hit the required threshold before pulling the trigger, in particular making sure that you've saved at least once, leaving your save file irrevocably fucked.

As a final twist, the non-standard game over would only trigger after resting; though the game's mechanics would heavily incentivise resting on a regular basis, it would theoretically be possible to massively over-level your party on purpose and avoid the bad ending simply by never resting again, potentially as a speedrun strat. However, doing so would alter the game's ending to replace the usual final boss with a hopeless solo boss fight against your own massively over-levelled party.

[acquelus-ussy]

So ive been a reader for quite some time now and i just decided to write stuff! So this is my first time writing please give me criticisms and i hope yall will enjoy! Pls be nice i will literally cry Also Afab reader! Sorry guys i don't know how to write for amab

SOFT YANDERE ALERTTTT

~~~

Yandere! Cowboy who came back to the county after a bounty hunting mission bringing back tons of money He went to the bar where he frequents and decided to buy everyone a round of drinks (he really got a big bounty) then thats where

Farmer! Reader comes in you were drinking with some of your employees when you heard yandere!cowboy say a round of drinks was on him And you being the ever so kind darling! after the hype died down you went to his table to thank him

"Well, hello there, Mr. Cowboy! I just wanted to thank you for the round of drinks. If you want, I can buy you some grub to go with your beer."

Then you slipping some cash discreetly to him he pushes back the cash

"Thank you, sweetheart, but it's 'aight. What's the use of buying y'all drinks for free if you're just gon' buy me some grub? But if you must insist… why not keep me company, sugar?"

And you, looking rugged from a day's work on the farm milking the cows, gathering the eggs, and butchering the pigs you can’t help but wonder is this man flirting with you, or is he just really nice?

He pushes off the person who was sitting next to him and pats the seat "come on sugar you sitting or what?" he looks at you with heart eyes he knew he was in love

"If you're making me your lady of the night, I am not a whore, darling. And besides, a few drinks aren't enough to buy me for the night. I look too dirty to be a common whore, let alone be yours I'm a pig-slaughtering farmer, for God's sake."

you say

"If I were to make you my lady of tonight, you would already be sitting on my lap and giving my cheeks wonderful kisses, ain't it? And don't worry, that wasn't my intention at all, sugar, but you caught my eye. Tell me more about you, what do ya say? Pig-slaughtering farmer."

he chuckles lowly tilting his giant mug of beer to you then drinking it

When he first walked in and saw you sitting there, smiling with your people, something in his heart told him he must have you right then and there. But he didn't want to creep you out, so he set up a ploy buying everyone a round of drinks, hoping you'd come by to thank him. And you did.

You even offered to buy him some food to go with his beer what else could a lonely cowboy ask for?!

Soon, in the middle of the night, you'll hear some rustling outside the barn. But don’t worry, sugar it’s just your sweet cowboy, trying to discreetly see you, pookie. <3

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Hey hey Ratinha! I was reading your headcanons and I thought: could you write the ideal family moment for the SV/SVE couples? That moment when they stop and think "I could be anywhere right now and doing anything else, but nothing would make me happier than being here right now, with you and our kids."

Hey hey, dear anon! 👋

Sure thing, thank you for your ask! ❤️

_________________________________________

Stardew Valley:

For Elliott, it would be the moment when he and his family were relaxing on a warm spring morning in the backyard of their farmhouse, where the writer was scribbling something in his notes, but distracted by the noise of his spouse playing and tossing a laughing kid into the air. Their kid. The ringing laughter of the people dear to him, the peaceful farm atmosphere... From such a picture, Elliott's heart was filled with such warmth and happiness that words could not describe. "Daddy, daddy! Play with us, pretty please!" And he would immediately leave his notes on the bench, approaching his precious child, bouncing in place, who was holding Farmer's hand. His family...

For Sam, that moment was a picnic on the back patio of the farmhouse, where his family relaxed together, cooking and chatting. His grandma had come to Stardew Valley and met all her great-grandchildren, the mouth-watering smell from the grill was in the air, Sam's kids were playing with his younger brother Vincent while Sam himself and his spouse were socializing with his parents. Everyone has been busy with life lately, so a gathering like this is a great excuse to catch up and have some fun. Sammy was happy with Farmer and the kids, but managed to miss everyone too. Toward the end, after finishing the last plate after the picnic, the guitarist leaned over to a sleepy but also happy Farmer, giving them a kiss. "Hey, today was an awesome day. Glad we could all get together."

For Shane, it was a very ordinary morning, where he and Farmer were sleeping peacefully. But suddenly they were awakened by a child's laughter, and a moment later, a pair of little feet bouncing on their bed, crumpling the blanket. "Rarrr! I'm a scary dinosaur!" One of their children was making faces at their younger sibling as they both bounced on parents' bed a little more and ran back into the living room. Naturally, Shane and Farmer were a little bit annoyed at this abrupt awakening. Shane hid his face in the pillow, but instead of irritation, laughter was heard. Yoba, he'd never been happier to be woken up like that. By his kids, while his smiling spouse lay beside him.

For Harvey, it was the moment when he put his children to bed. The kids refused to put their heads on their pillows until their papa told them a bedtime story. "We want a new story," so the doctor had to improvise. The story is about a shy mouse, who fell in love with a brave squirrel. How they met, what adventures they had together, how they had children and lived happily ever after. The children immediately liked the story, and they had already fallen asleep, not forgetting to say "Good night, daddy." The doctor hadn't noticed his smiling spouse standing at the entrance to the kids room. "Come, my little mouse." Farmer kissed Harvey, calling him to rest in bed. The doctor stood with a warm smile on his face for another minute before closing the door of his kid's room.

For Sebastian, it was a rainy day when he with Farmer and their two children were releasing frogs into an artificial pond built on their farm. Small and slightly fearful amphibians, each with a different injury that makes them unable to return to the wild. But still deserve a happy life full of tasty flies and grubs. Sebby and his older kid put the frogs down on the wet grass, and they disappeared in a flash under the water restless from the drizzle. "Bye, froggies!" The youngest child, who was beside Farmer, waved happily to their green friends. Sebby watched his little ones excited that the frogs had a new home, then shifted his gaze to Farmer's face, which was adorned with a warm smile. And he felt... so happy.

For Alex, it was the moment when he and his family stopped by to visit his grandparents one day, as the old folks had already missed their favorite great-grandchild. How everyone looked forward to Evelyn's famous cookies, how George showed his great-grandkid old photos and told interesting stories about his past, while Farmer talks about their and Alex's life on the farm to Evelyn. From such a warm and homely atmosphere, a picture flashed sharply before Alex's eyes... where he, a little boy, was sitting on the couch and proudly showing his smiling mom something. The athlete himself didn't notice how his eyes became slightly wet, which immediately earned him a worried look from Farmer. But Alex smiled back at them and said he was just glad to have Farmer, their child and his grandparents.

Stardew Valley Expanded:

For Lance, it was the moment he and Farmer once again decided on a day off for both of them to visit the summit to admire the view, but with their one year old baby. Farmer held their baby tightly in the arms, standing with their husband at a safe distance from the edge of the cliff while the baby waved happily, pointing at the beautiful birds. The view from the summit in the fall was truly mesmerising, but the adventurer's violet eyes were not focused on the landscape, but on the smiling spouse and their child. Lance had told Farmer once, but he would say it again: to him, his family, Farmer and the baby, were the most precious treasures in his life that he wouldn't trade for anything.

For Victor, it would be the day when he and his child stood on the Shirwater Bridge one spring evening. The curious child had already had time to look at the fish, and began to ask his father with questions about the bridge. Victor often chats with Farmer about his work, so no surprise about his child's interest. Having answered all the questions, the spaghetti lover thought that the child would lose interest and switch to something else. But they looked at their father with admiration, and started asking about bridges again. Before Victor had time to be surprised, a notification from his spouse came on his cell phone. "Dinner is ready 🍝❤️" It didn't seem like a big deal, but Victor felt really happy at that moment. "Come on, let's go home, and I'll tell you about the biggest bridges in the Republic."

For Magnus, it would be the day when his two year old toddler accidentally cast a levitation spell. He had tried to feed the baby porridge while Farmer brewed coffee for themself and him. The excited child slammed their hands on the baby's table twice, and Rasmodius noticed the little threads of magic on the baby's hands too late. As a result, the porridge, his hat, and a couple toys flew into the air. While Magnus tried to distract the baby, Farmer caught the objects in the air. It was over as quickly as it had begun. "Did you see that, my soul? Our child is already showing such talent!" Magnus was beyond proud as Farmer smiled back at him and they both cooed at the cheering baby. It seemed like a little morning trouble, but so dear to the wizard's heart.

[birchbow]

i really like everything you've done with the concept of troll gender in pof, but i was wondering if you've given thought to why/how they developed the concept of gender as a not really sexually dimorphic species? and who exactly assigns them genders as wrigglers? like are they getting the concept from the lusii? also i was wondering how they can tell each other's genders without asking directly. i know the clowns indicate that with their paint usually, but what about everyone else? i would love to hear any thoughts you have about this!

Okay so. This is only somewhat represented in the actual fic, mostly because I started writing it more than a decade ago when I was a little weenie with no gender imagination, but the grand scope of the xeno loadout I'm contemplating is thus:

in the same way that Lord of the Rings was theoretically a localized+translated legend from another language. PoF is a translation of a troll society that is in some ways localized by its translator (me lol).

THIS IS TO SAY: gender isn't gender. Pronouns are a self-declaration of "the role I take in my use to the Great Hive of The Empire". Trolls we translate as "male" and "female" are just roles of Use To The Hive that a human translator maps to "he" and "she".

If the mother grub, the drones and the trolls are all the same species, I find it delightful to imagine that insofar as trolls have a physical sex, it's BEING "trolls"; "troll"="the farmed ones/caretakers/(trollspecies) servant class" who provide and care for the mother grub.

Some of said class focus more into social violence not intended to kill+loud and posturing to drive away enemies+big emotions for Care About Hive. Because humans are, to quote troll xenonecroscholars, "obsessed with assigning mammal genital configurations to things", humans have dictated these trolls are "men". Some trolls focus more energy into stronger psionics+no patience for posturing/straight for the kill+hone and reinforce the inner strata of the hive. Humans refer to these individuals as "women".

I'll be shorthanding these roles as "masc" and "femme" because I use way too many words already, but just know that's an oversimplification haha.

FIG 1: Karkat by this standard? Very masc, but his insistence that he wants to be the leader/in charge is idiosyncratically femme of him. *cishet bioessentialism voice* Football player repeatedly goes out for ballet.

FIG 2: let's be clear Karkat telling Tavros to "stop playing games for girls" after he got jumped off a cliff was Karkat/Homestuck being classic 2010s shitty. But it doubles in this as "you decided to play with the Scourge Sisters (Deadly High Femme), you moron, you're lucky you're not dead".

how people figure out which one they initially go by... tbh it seems like schooling is pretty much via computers. I feel like you could easily just get like. A module on reproduction, and then a module that's essentially a fucking. quizilla quiz. Assigned pronouns at government-required school module.

Recent chapters have started making characters 'they/them' until the POV character gets a hint what their preference is--in this theoretical setup there would be quite a lot of sussing it out. "Gender presentation" would be a loose constellation of traits with a lot less certainty! The webcomic was not made with this in mind but I do find it fun to willfully reframe the pretty generically human-gendered characters we get.

FOR EXAMPLE!! Long/big hair as a peacocking flair/brag, often by old or powerful classes, or people who are powerful enough psionics they don't have to give a shit about a very grabbable liability in a fight. Trolls whose vocational pronouns translate as "female" often specialize in straightforward impersonal murder and social engineering more than brawling, so longer hair wouldn't be a liability and therefore is correlated, but only loosely.

Feferi has long hair, but so does the Grand Highblood. Equius (reads quite masc to humans) has long hair (nobility fle%), but Kanaya (the most overtly human femme) does not (practical middle-class brawler)! I don't think that's on purpose but I AM taking advantage of it lol.

'They/them' is the equivalent of the "joker" title I made up already for Clown Church--somebody with multiple skillsets, mixed roles, or fields of influence. My gender is undeclared college major. My gender is Jack Of All Trades.

Verato's transness isn't really about his switch from one gender to another--it's more because he plays a "femme" role in society but uses the "masc" pronoun for himself. His self-consciousness about it is more similar to a nonbinary or bisexual human who's used to being told to "pick one" and being told which one they "seem like" or "should be".

Meanwhile the Behemoth's 'it/its' in English stands out as a pronoun usually used for objects, but in Alternian it would be the pronoun trolls use to refer to DRONES. "(Trollspecies) made for thoughtless violence/enforcer/culls the weak". Chilling!!

I would have to go through and edit huge chunks of the fic to drag all half a million words into line with fun xeno shit alongside the clown church worldbuilding I already got in there, but damn if the concept isn't tempting some days.

[eccentricallygothic]

|| The Farmer's Way ||

Description: With the gang gone for good, Arthur had retired and you were his reward. Or so he believed. 

Pairing: Dark!Arthur Morgan | Gender-Neutral Spouse!You. 

Disclaimer: I (sadly) do not own Arthur Morgan or the RDR universe. This story contains dark and mature content so browse at your own discretion, please. Minors do not interact. 

Warning(s): Noncon/Dubcon, gross stuff because that's all I think about while playing the game, age gap, groping, dirty talk, degradation, doggy style, penetration, spanking, biting/marking, sexism, wife kink but it doesn't matter what you identify as because he's gross like that so tw for sure. 

Note: Fair warning, he's a bit of a sicko and I am a mental slut. Also this is kinda my first time with gender neutral smut so I am very sorry if I got something wrong. I am willing to rectify if I did make any such mistake. 

The hot June air blew past you and pricked at your rather pampered skin. You felt a droplet of sweat trickle down your temple as you winced and shielded your face from the sun, the rays now attacking the skin of your arm instead. A grunt escaped you when you willed your feet, which were clad in some glittery pumps, to push on towards the huge barn of your family farm. A string of disgusted curses foxed their way out of your mouth when the smell of dung and hay wafted into your nostrils from the giant red wooden box that was literally radiating stinky heat. 

Your feet halted right outside the heavy double doors and you had to take a long breath to brace yourself before you entered. Your features scrunched in disdain as you tried to hold your breath, clutching the cool jug and glass that you were holding tighter as you slipped inside before the weight of the door caused it to close by itself. Clenching your jaw to focus on the task at hand, you slowly walked forwards and concentrated on your breathing to ensure you didn't inhale any of the barn filth. 

It was a fairly easy piece of work.

Give the lemonade to your husband and leave. 

Simple, right? 

No. 

Not when said husband is Arthur Morgan. 

As his fingers wrapped around your wrists to keep you from leaving after you had placed the jug and glass down, your breath hitched as you felt a bile rise in your throat from pure disgust. The dust and sweat on his fingers was gut wrenching. 

"Fixin' to leave already?" His other hand came up to tangle in one of the two silky ribbons you wore on both sides of your head in half ponytails after he had pulled you against his hard chest, the coarse hairs on his chest scratching the skin of your back. "I was missin' you so much, baby" you uneasily shifted in his hold, goosebumps rising on your skin when you felt his fingers trail up from your wrist to your forearm. "It's almost like you showed up 'cause you read my mind" you could barely suppress your gasp as your body jumped in reaction to his stubbly lips suddenly finding your ear. 

"I…" Your voice was a mere squeak and you had to concentrate to make yourself sound a bit less pathetic. "I left the food on the stove" your eyes fluttered shut before clenching as you suppressed the urge to retch at both the feeling and smell, arm folding to let your elbow press into the side of his torso. The man only hummed as his browned and dirty hands felt you up, basically frisking your barely clad body as his lips pressed rushed kisses against your neck. "A- Arthur!" You flinched when he bit down on a hickey on the junction of your neck, fingers finding your nipples through the sheer fabric of one of the many silk dresses he made you wear. 

The older man did not budge, only grunting when you probed his chest harder, hips trying to wriggle free. "The grub can wait, hush now" your limbs screamed at you to fight. Try and push him away. Hit him with something. Make a run for it. Never look back. "Mmm, baby" your eyes teared up when his other hand slipped from the ribbon to trail down your abdomen and to your nether regions. "If it was up to me, I'd keep ya bare as a jaybird 'round the clock" your jaw clenched at his words but you knew better than to hurl the heavy jug that was in front of you against his head. 

Because you had done stuff like that countless times in the beginning of your forced marriage seven months ago. 

Except, you had no idea how but your husband had somehow trained and kept a number of wolves to guard the property only God knew how. 

No one could come in and you could never leave. 

The punishments that you had been subjected to upon trying to do so were more than enough to keep you on your best behavior. 

"Oh, darlin', you taste mighty fine" you were flipped and easily backed into one of the many stables. "Now, let me try out that pretty little mouth" your eyebrows scrunched as you craned your neck backwards to get away from him. The reverberations of Arthur's chuckle buzzed through your chest as he pressed into you and left you trapped and helpless. "Ain't ya just a foolish little thing? Thinkin' you can get away from your old man?" His rough palms cupped your face as he dipped his head in, chasing your lips with his own and snickering when you tried to move. 

When you had seen this mysterious cowboy turn up to buy your family farm off of your useless brother seven months ago, you had not thought much of it. Sure, you were angry that his gambling had ended him up in so much debt that he had no choice but to sell off your family legacy, but you had bright plans with your scholarship program at a prestigious college, and you had been so ready to leave this life that you had never liked much in the first place behind for one of revolution and modernity. 

Only, when all of your documentation as well as your brother and his family disappeared the night before your final departure, the then stranger and now your husband revealed that you had been part of the deal. 

As Arthur fucked into you on your wedding night -as he had promised your brother that he would not take you before that-, the man had confessed how lovely you had looked resting on a tree branch as you chewed on your lip, completely engrossed in your book. 

You knew alcohol and the colorful powders that your brother loved to use had done his mind in, but handing you off like merchandise to a man with no regard for your orientation or taste was something you had never expected from him. Not after he had been your legal guardian for so long. 

But then again, he never understood your ways and thought revolution was a blasphemy. 

In your brother's world, you either did the hard work on the field or became a field worker's home runner. 

And your open disdain for the farm work had earned you the latter. 

The irony was laughable, because he probably thought he was protecting you by choosing a secure future for his baby sibling. The right thing. 

Your spark had always scared him, and so he suppressed it once and for all under the mundaneness of the farm by locking you up in his own kind of a gilded cage and handing the keys to the man who was all over you at the moment.  

'Excitement is a double edged sword. It is thrilling and promising but it can also be dangerous.' That you couldn't deny.

The thrumming in your nether regions was proof. 

Frightening, shameful, repulsive proof.

"Arthur…" You whimpered as your vision zeroed in on his rough lips that brushed against yours soon before pressing into them. 

The man moaned, rubbing his crotch against yours as he deepened the kiss by tilting his head to the side and forcing his tongue in your mouth, the taste of cigarettes and coffee making you cringe and try to move away but a tight squeeze to your ass with his coarse hand made you gasp and hence open your mouth. Then his tongue was down your throat. 

Everything was rough and dirty about him. 

You hated it.

Sometimes he purposely rubbed his filth against your clean clothes and body to add insult to injury. He would laugh as you would hold your breath and try to get away only to be trapped between his strong body and some surface. Arthur would then watch you squirm and struggle until you ran out of breath and had no choice but to inhale his scent. 

"Dang it, I can't hold back no more" Arthur was panting when he finally broke off to let you both breathe, one of his hands bolting down to his belt while the other one held you steady. "I need ya right now…" The kiss had flushed your lips and you could feel the change in size as you ran your tongue over them to accumulate some moisture. "You gonna be good and take it for me, darlin', won't ya?" And while your brain screamed at you to know better, you squeezed your legs and whined, taking deep breaths as one of your fists bunched some of his sweaty shirt in it. 

"Arthur…" A small smirk made its way on his face while he hurriedly relieved himself of all decency. He recognized that tone. 

"Now ya know better than to call me that, baby" heat spread across your cheeks as you whimpered, biting your lip before you lowered your head and reached for his hand that was pinching one of your nipples through your sheer dress. "Go on now, you know my preference" your eyes fluttered shut as you took a shaky breath, massaging the hand that was toying with your chest and arching your back. 

"... H- Hubby…" Arthur cursed under his breath like he always did whenever he got you to call him that. Then he reached out for your other hand and brought it to his erect cock, the feeling of its thick veins against your soft fingertips causing your hole to clench around air. 

"Aw, shit, darlin'" he guided your hand up and down his twitching cock. "Can ya feel it?" His body pressed against yours. "This here is what ya do to me" the tip of his organ released some hot precum and you couldn't help but shudder at the memories it triggered. 

Memories of how it felt inside you. 

Before you knew it, as always, reason was out the window before you could grab onto it and your mind had decided shame could come later. Who knew when or if you would ever make it out of here and Arthur was way too good at making you feel strange things that kept you giving into him for more.

"Please, hubby" you whispered, unable to hold back anymore as you worked your wrist to please him. "Please…"

"Please, what, baby?" He pecked your lips over and over before moving down to the corner of your mouth and then further along your jaw. "Use your words for me" his lips locked around a patch of your delicate skin as he sucked, causing you to bend your back outwards. "Get, now."

"P- Please take me…" You shuddered as the sound of his lips forming yet another bruise along the expanse of your neck grew louder and louder in the air. "Please… please…" You couldn't get yourself to utter any more obscenity than that. 

"You mean you want me to fuck you?" Your heart dropped at the bluntness of his words, the feeling of his stubbly lips curling against your skin almost making you want to retreat, but only almost. 

Besides, you couldn't leave on your accord even if you wanted to. 

Though you really didn't want to leave this barn anymore. 

Not before the ache between your legs was relieved. 

When you didn't respond verbally, Arthur clicked his tongue as he came back up to face you and reached for his hat before placing it on your head. He loved to take you like that. "Come on, darlin'. You know I ain't gon' do nothin' 'til you say it for me" but then one of his hands creeped between your legs to caress your intimate part and your legs trembled in reaction; body submitting at once. 

Taking in a deep and shaky breath, you braced yourself before mumbling out your words, hoping and praying they were enough for him because you knew as well as you knew it was day that you didn't have any more indecency in you to talk the kind of filth he could with a straight face.

"P- Please fuck me, hubby…" One of his eyebrows raised as he leaned in closer. 

"I'm sorry, what was that there?" You almost choked his cock between your fingers but you knew better than hostility. 

"I- I said…"

"You said?" 

Your jaw clenched in annoyance because you were so needy all thanks to his dirty hands and now he was not helping. 

"I said p- please fuck me, hubby" you said as clearly as you possibly could, tone almost blunt. 

He finally seemed intent. "Your wish is my command, darlin'" the man had you flipped and bent over the stable before you could even register it. 

Your gaze settled on the little pony in front of you as you felt his stiff tip prod your entrance, the foreplay having lubed his cock more than enough. Since you weren't allowed to wear underwear, the lack of it granted him easier access to you and Arthur was sliding in with a grunt a moment later, squeezing both your ass cheeks at the same time as he cursed. 

"Fuck, baby. You're the tightest little thing I've ever laid down with" your fingers gripped the stable as you jumped when he landed a spank to one of your cheeks, slowly moving through you to get you to adjust. "Shit, look at you. Such a pretty little farm wife, baby" your face scrunched up in both discomfort and sensory overload due to how sensitive you felt down there. 

"Please…" Your mouth always betrayed you in moments like these despite your best efforts to stay as quiet as possible. 

But it felt even better when you let it get the best of you and drown you completely, the vile words coming out of your own mouth adding to the pressure between your hips before stars exploded in your vision. 

"Please what, sweet little thing?" You felt his chest drape over your back as he rubbed his stubbly cheek against yours, hips starting to find a rhythm as the speed of his thrusts increased. 

"Please… more" you couldn't help but lean your face against his to withstand the sensitivity, eyes fluttering as you chewed on your bottom lip in concentration, your velvety walls sheathing his veiny cock with every push. 

Arthur's chest reverberated against your back. "Ya act like you're too good for all this, but deep down you're just a horny little hussy, ain't ya darlin'?" You whined loudly as you clenched around him, starting to move your own hips against his now. "Jus' look at you, whinin' and squeezin' 'round me in front of li'l Sally like a silly 'lil jezebel" that was what you had named the pony that stared at you with her curious eyes. "But ya love that deep down, don't ya?" Your eyebrows furrowed when his words started to crack the haze that had formed in your mind, making you lower your head to cancel him out and focus on your relief.

But you could never win with Arthur. 

"You can go on ahead and deny it all you want. But this trashy li'l hole of yours tells me all I need to know everytime, honey" his lips bluntly moved against the shell of your ear as he gathered one of your knees in his hands and pushed it up against the frame of the stable before finding its way to your nipples again, other hand gliding down to the quivering organ between your legs. 

As Arthur's hips sped up and your body started to rock back and forth against the wooden frame with each powerful thrust, the sound of skin clapping against its like filled up the smelly barn. His hat fell over your eyes and you knew you were in for a long day. 

[brazenlotus]

New Ingredients & Mods!

Feed Animals With...

Specialty Seed Packs

Lively Garden Lot Challenge

Sheltered Garden Lot Challenge

Collect Insects from Farm

Beetle Nuggets

Grub Meal

Cricket Flour

Bombardier Beetle Nuggets

AVAILABLE FOR EARLY ACCESS!

Public Release: 18th Sept

[tinygryphon-58570]

It's June so I am once again voicing my desire for the anniversary thing to be a farming/cooking mechanic so I can feed my dragons something more complex than just wild grass and raw grubs

[starwebsonadow]

ー STARWEB MASTERPOST‼️

OWNER/ADMIN : @foddercaptain

☆ Some information on this au and how it works. This WILL be updated overtime, tweaked, adjusted, and referred back to!!

SHORT SUMMARY:

Starweb is an original bug/arthropods themed Sonic (but mostly Sonadow) centered AU in which all mobian characters in canon are bug counterparts to their original species! EX: Hedgehogs = Spiders, Echidnas = Ants, Foxes = Weevils, etc. Instead of just bugs though, they are referred to as Insectians! Basically means mobians. This will be released though 3-5 arcs in a comic format.

REFERENCE SHEETS & LINKS AT THE BOTTOM‼️

• What's it about? ★

The story follows primarily Sonic and Shadow in their lives as Insectians, born under very different circumstances and understanding of nature or how to live, they learn about each other and even if their opinions and ways oppose or clash sometimes they still care about one another to great extents. This is a Sonadow plot, but you can consider it more of constant slow burn, really, it's just never ending slow burn sometimes, it kills me too. This world works on a base of "survival of the fittest," meaning that animals eat bugs & bugs eat other bugs, and that's just reality. They are quite literally just bugs, there are no powers like the characters normally would posses, but instead their abilities depends on their body and species, like making silk or flying. Natural disasters for them are things small to humans but big to them, like rain, wind or even as drastic as forest fires. In addition, in-universe they have their own terminology for certain things, taking some inspiration from A Bugs Life, Mouse Guard, WC, & WoF.

• Terminology! (wip) ★

ー Insectians - The replacement word for mobians, refers to the general bug or population. It does not matter if the insectian in question is an insect in real life, they could be an arachnid and still be considered an insectian. EX: There was another insectian nearby.

ー Forager - An insectian who collects human-made or unnatural objects, whether for use or just having it, this includes those who make homes from said objects, EX: living in a former soup can.

ー Beastie - An insult used against vegan insectians that are not naturally vegan, this would be considered a minor slur, but it is frequently amongst those in tune with their instincts to mock those who aren't, EX: "You're a beastie."

ー Scavenger - Insectians that feed on other dead or decaying insectians. This is commonly used in phrases or insults, as being a scavenger is considered "unclean" by some, EX: "You eat like a scavenger."

ー Tamer - An insectian with the talent of taming animals that aren't bugs, such as birds or rodents.

ー Vagabond - Those insectians with adventure in their veins who cannot or do not want to stay in one place, often insectians that have little fear of their natural world and explore.

ー Dwellers - Insectians who live close to humans or inhabit human homes, this can be infestations or genuine pets with enclosures. Dwellers are commonly lacking instinctive knowledge of the wilderness depending on where they were born and lived.

ー Chao - Farmed or pet: Grub, maggots, or larvae of some kind, they are like the human equivalent of chickens as they are commonly used for an easy food source that doesn't involve hunting or killing other insectians for said food.

ー Maggot - Can be used as an insult towards another insectians intelligence or adolescent behavior, the replacement for idiot or stupid, it means someone's as smart as a maggot, maggots are the baby/larvae stage of some bugs such as flies, EX: "You act like a maggot."

ー Season - Refers to someone's age or time passed in life, being in season means one is of the age of maturity, it's often used to separate old from young insectians, though this doesn't always work as bugs can be big and not be in season, they do not celebrate things like birthdays or keep track of ages. It can also be used to state an insectian is immature, EX: "For your age, you sure are out of season." (No, there won't be age gap ships or weird stuff).

• Story Execution ★

Starweb will consist of comics and writings! Both formats will be used to articulate whatever parts of the plot that are needed. Currently, this will be going in 3 main story arcs, they start at when Sonic and Shadow meet then go from there, it will go in order but have more of an episodic format. I'll makes a comic page every whenever-i-can and post them, I'll put out illustrations, one-shots, and whatnot! I'd like to include multiple mediums and hope everyone will follow and enjoy it until the finale of the story. Even once that happens, i must clarify that won't be the end of the au, there's a huge cast of characters. pre-starweb events, and so just so many things that aren't shoved into the main plot.

• Extra/FAQ! ☆

ー Yes you can make Starweb ocs or convert your ocs into Starweb!! Nothings is a closed species and if you really don't feel the current au design limitations of the bug species fit than don't be afraid to do your own thing! Have FUN!!!

ー Despite the story following Sonadow and everyone being bug sized, i do not mind fanart of your own favorite Sonic ships with my au! Prefer Sonamy? Knuxadow? Alright, you can draw starweb sonamy/knuxadow! Wanna give them clothes or accessories for fun? Cool as hell! I don't mind and would love to be tagged so i can see too! (This does not include proships, if you are making weird art of my au i will block you).

ー Curious about anything or want to submit a drawing request? Go ahead! Of course, keep it sfw, and i will see what i can do! I won't be drawing anyone else's ocs unless you are a mutual, but I'll be happy enough to draw other ideas related to the au!

ー You can in fact make fan designs for characters that have yet to be drawn or have a reference! I know that ultimately i won't be able to do every character I'd like, especially less common ones like Manic (spider) or Sally (moth), some mutuals have already done with with characters like Espio, and even prior- Metal!

ー I don't mind taking inspiration off of my au, but of course if you do I'd love to see and even support ya, so please tag me if you make ocs, your own au, or anything else! If it is really heavy inspiration, then still don't be afraid to ask, i have many mutuals who have requests to so it shouldn't be a problem unless you're taking too much, i love to talk about bug characters!

ー Spider species thingy! I'll make more and better ones in the future for every primary species.

★ If you're interested in this au don't be afraid to send asks anytime, always open here!

🕸 : STARWEB COMIC

🐜 : ARCHIVE/REFERENCES

🐛 : STARWEB DISCORD

🐞 : (wip)

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

“Have you ever had a Harveston apple before? They’re some mighty fine eatin’. Um I mean they’re pretty good. My meemaw just sent me a whole crate and I can’t finish it all myself so I’m passing them out. Want one? I heard from Ace you like apples.” - 🍎

So tell me, do you wanna go?

The boy held out an apple. He was smallish and delicate looking, with lilac locks and long lashes framing big, sparkling blue eyes. The collar of his uniform was gathered lace crowned with a necktie done up as a ribbon.

If Fellow didn’t know any better, he would have easily mistaken the boy for a living doll. He thought the idea laughable—a bitter reminder of his last gig.

Whoever he was, he was no nobleman’s son. No, he had opened with an accent Fellow recognized from somewhere rural and humble. Here was a common man, squished into a suit and thrown to the wolves to fend for himself. His eyes were not mistaken.

“Don’t mind if I do! Thanks for the grub, kid.”

Fellow accepted the apple with a broad grin. He could see his reflection in its shiny red exterior, even before he polished the fruit on his jacket.

Crunch.

His teeth cut into the apple, slicing its skin and revealing the crisp white flesh underneath. Sweet juice--sweeter than he'd ever tasted, almost candy-like--burst spilled his tongue. He hummed in satisfaction.

“Whoa, you weren’t pullin’ my leg. This stuff’s premium!” He hungrily eyed the crate of unclaimed apples in the boy's arms.

“Heheh. Harveston’s real proud of its produce." The first year glanced down, patting the top of his crate. "I should hand the rest of these out now."

"Hold on a second!" Fellow blocked his path--sights still set on the apples. It would be nice to bring some back for Giddie.

"Yes? What is it?"

"Why the rush? We've barely gotten to know each other! What's your name, champ?"

"It's, er... Epel."

"Epel!" He slipped a hand on the boy's shoulder. "And you're from Harveston, you say? I've been there myself during my worldly travels! Nice folks you got there. So warm, so hospitable!!"

(Fellow neglected to mention that the story started with he and Gidel sneaking onto someone's farm and liberating them of a chunk of their crops. It had been a particularly bad day and the vegetables had just been lying out there. A recipe of convenience, a risk worth taking.

They had been caught red-handed, been accosted by a flurry of frying pans and angry locals. It had taken plenty of groveling and sniveling to sort things out. When the locals' rage had simmered down, he and Gidel had been invited in to stay a while, given that they promised not to steal anymore. Some food and a bed, and they were all set for that night.)

Epel bristled, pulling away from Fellow. "Ah, no ya don't! Ace warned me that you're sneaky and to not fall for anything you'd try to pull."

He faltered. “What else has he said about me?! Fellow Honest-sama's got a reputation to keep."

It's going to be harder to scam these students if word about me gets around.

"Uh... Well..." Epel hesitated. "That you were kinda pathetic?"

"PATHETIC?! I'm not pathetic!!" Disbelief rattled Fellow's voice. He gritted his teeth, fingers digging into his half-finished apple.

Y-You're being pretty pathetic right now though...? Epel stayed tight-lipped for his own good.

Fellow released the Pomefiore student and stomped off, waving his cane in the air as if spearing an invisible man with it. Spit flew out as he cursed the boy with the heart over one eye.

"Why, that smarmy little...! MARK MY WORDS!! The next time I see that guy, he'll get what's comin' to him!!" Fellow swore loudly.

Epel awkwardly stared after him. "Wh-What just happened?"

[kandyshoppe]

So! I’m going to school to (hopefully) become a farm vet, and I also enjoy those hybrid Aus, SO! Farm Hybrid Au! (Or just farm au!)

Riddle: a rooster, specifically a red cornish. Cornish are known to be a bit aggressive, and finicky. I think he would have been a neglected chick and didn’t get to the full size, instead staying kinda small instead of becoming big like other Cornish.

Trey: Highlander cow, soft, sweet babys! They’re just happy to be here, and are stocky tough cattle. Their coats are double coated, so they can get matted but it’s rare with a proper diet and care.

Cater: a part indoor part outdoor cat, a beautiful orange tabby mix, who goes through moods of cuddle monster and hates everyone. Never a hiss from him, but a grumpy huff and he trots away.

Deuce: mastiff, a guard/live stock guardian dog breed. Big, aggressive to strangers, but love bugs once they get to know you. Specifically a Pyrenean mastiff, they’re polish, and suited for cold weather best.

Ace: definitely a Nubian goat, head strong, rebellious, LOUD, but they’re not aggressive! They’re actually very friendly, to their detriment since they will try to befriend predators!

Leona: farm cat, probably a Maine coon mix, cause he’s so big and fluffy! Maine coons are also very “dog like” and can learn tricks, to play fetch etc. They also tend to have a resting mad face, which Leona seems to have sometimes!

Ruggie: a stray dog that helps hunt vermin on the farm. I feel he wondered up once, and made sure to avoid the live stock (and their guard dogs) and got some rats or something. He doesn’t live on the farm by nearby in the woods with his pack of strays (including granny!)

Jack: another guard dog! Anatolian Shepard, a middle eastern breed suited for colder climates, and lovingly called “nanny dogs” and they will happily let goats jump on them. They’re a bit dominant, preferring to do their own thing vs what others say though.

Azul: cull duck! They’re a bit noisy, enjoying the sound of their own voice. They’re the white ones most people think of for ducks, small and fairly friendly but they do enjoy nibbling to show affection…

Jade: runner duck! They can’t fly, but enjoy scrabbling among rocks to find grubs, or in Jade’s case, mushrooms! They don’t waddle either! They run! They’re not as friendly as other duck breeds, being stand off-ish sometimes.

Floyd: just like his brother, a runner duck. He lives up to the runner in his name! Prances around, and enjoys tormenting the other animals on the farm. Someone stop him! Sneaks up on others and nips their feet. Has been kicked before, it didn’t stop him.

Kalim: brown Swiss, in the top three cattle breeds! They’re known for being fairly docile, calm and friendly. They’re very affectionate, and can get upset when not given affection from their handlers! This boy is BEGGING for ear scritches!

Jamil: Brahman bull, he can get aggressive much easier than Kalim. He’s also a very intelligent boy, as his breed usually is. But they’re also known to be shy, preferring to be alone or with a specific quiet few vs a large herd! Brahmans also are sensitive to the cold, so his hoodie is a need!

Vil: a jersey cow (my favorite!) they’re so pretty, but also the divas of milking cows. But it’s worth it for their thick, buttery and fatty milk! They’re also very curious, choosing to follow new comers vs hiding. They’re very social, but sassy things!

Rook: a trained hawk! (I’ve never seen a trained hawk around chickens but he is!) he was found as a baby and ended up bonding with the farmer I bet, so now he protects the others from birds, and more sneaky attacks! He enjoys sitting with Vil, a strange pair but it works.

Epel: a Southdown sheep, also known as “baby dolls” cause they’re so little and cute! He’s still a ram though, and hates being called cute! Head butts at will! Is mad that Vil has chosen him as their “calf” and follows him around, keeping him out of trouble. Vil’s no fun.

Idia: a British soay sheep, but he’s got a genetic mutation that makes him a deep blue instead of a dark brown. British soay are shy and flighty, they’re timid even among sheep breeds! Idia probably struggles with joining herds because of his color, which makes him more nervous about predators!

Ortho: à shetland sheep, another smaller breed, but quite friendly and inquisitive (which is rare among sheep, I’m sorry they’re dumb) Don’t let his size fool you though! Shetlands are one of the hardiest breeds out there! Small but mighty!

Malleus: a big black shire horse, now I don’t know as much about horses, but shires are docile and friendly draft horses! I bet cause of his size though, many of the other farm animals avoid him cause he’s scary. Shires are sometimes used for riding, and I bet he REALLY enjoys riding!

Lilia: a fell pony! They’re one of the smartest ponies, and while they can be finicky at times because of their intelligence, they are sweet ponies. He’s too intelligent for his own good I bet, enjoying to open the gates and wander out, but doesn’t close it and now EVERYONE is out and about!

Silver: an Icelandic horse (my brother’s favorite), they’re super sweet and hardworking sweethearts, with a beautiful grey coat! One of the friendliest horse breeds in the world, he’s just a big old love bug! Loves rolling around and laying in a nice patch of grass I bet.

Sebek: a shetland pony, but he’s one of the ones who give shetlands a bad rap. He’s nippy, and stubborn, and loves to whiney whenever he can! Likes the sound of his own voice. Is entranced with Malleus, and wants to be a big horse like him one day!

[mysterioushistorian]

The Beforus Ancestors

honestly, i didnt like how the drawings turned out. i searched for references for the ancestors but i didnt manage to draw them the way i wanted to. most of the designs are okay, though i still feel like some of them are missing something, like colors.

more info abt them ↓

The Treasure Huntress (aka. Beforan Aradia) She was a very skilled adventurer and loved finding historic artifacts. She had a special taste for East Beforan art and culture. During her adventures, she met a violetblooded sea dweller who also had a fascination for history and dedicated his life to study and learn more about it. Together, they traveled along each other with the goal of learning more about the history of their planet, and eventually, they developed feelings for each other. However, the warmblooded girl was pale, while the coolblooded boy was red. The unspoken tension between each other lead to a fight, which ended in surprise on both sides over the admittance of feelings. Not wanting to disappoint each other, they agreed to just stay friends.

The Guardian (Beforan Tavros) He he stood up for the rights of trolls in special needs, and by that, he was also heavily against culling (as in the Beforan meaning of culling), saying that nobody should be treated that way (as helpless and fragile, making them too dependant) and by doing that, they would be "hiding the truth of the world from the children" by basically being way too overprotective. He was a farm boy, living in the country sides with his moirail, who mainly took care of the stables. Their farm was open to public visits, and one day, a certain coolblooded visitor has caught his attention. He wished to re-encounter with the man someday. One day, he has suffered a very sudden mutation that made him sprout wings, with him finally being able to realize his dream of traveling the world to spread the word about the dangers of culling and the rights of trolls in special needs.

(please correct me if I got the wrong meaning of Beforan culling, as I will talk about it again)

Radiical Psygamer (Beforan Sollux) He was, perhaps, the greatest programmer that Beforus has ever seen. With his magnificent skills, he was responsible for massively improving trolls’ technology and has contributed to the creation of a few robots and helped with the coding of various popular games. He was, however, a terrible teacher, given his introversion and general social awkwardness. He was a big figure in the world of console games and was the first to actively encourage girls to play games too.

The Unculled (Beforan Karkat) Because of his rare candy red blood, no lusus wanted to raise him, leaving him there all alone. One day, he was found by a purpleblooded man who took him to his hive in hopes that someone would pick him. They waited, and waited, and waited… but no lusus came. Tired of waiting, the big troll decided to raise the grub himself. Because of his caretaker, the mutantblooded grew up to be loud, tough and intimidating, but had a big, friendly heart and cared for his loved ones a lot.

Sharpeye Furrline (Beforan Nepeta) She was a very skilled huntress. According to herself, she only killed what she ate, and if she didn’t eat, killing them would be mean. She could hunt creatures from a very small size to ones that were the double of her own. One day, while hunting for her dinner, she has killed a creature that was going to become a Lusus of a small wriggler. Therefore, she has accidentally unlocked the rage of a coolblooded troll. Terrified, she knew she couldn’t fight back, so she ran as fast as she could, far away from that beach. No one knows what happened to her.

The Seamstress (Beforan Kanaya) A rare jadeblood with a rare taste for fashion. She became known for her dresses with odd patterns, inspired by the landscapes around her. She also traveled in search of different sights and, consequently, more ideas for dresses. Her works have eventually caught the attention of the Empress, who offered her a job as her official seamstress.

The Attorney (Beforan Terezi) She was a blind woman who did not allow her disability to hold her back. She fought back against Beforus’ culling policy and became a excellent lawyer. Dedicating herself to fight against crime and bring justice to maintain the order and peacefulness of her planet, she chased a mischievous pirate lady who seemed to cause trouble everywhere she passed. She was The Unculled’s matesprit.

Arachnid Cap8tain (Beforan Vriska) A troublemaker who caused mischief together with her pirate crew. She considered The Attorney her rival, as she was the only one who insisted in chasing her and never gave up on her quest to capture the spider pirate. A completely platonic rivalry. She held a special interest for snooker and said that the Ball 8 was actually “her lucky ball”.

The Horseman (Beforan Equius) A STRONG man who really liked horses. He lived in a farm with his moirail and was responsible for taking care of the stables. Because of his interest, they ended up having way too many horses, which resulted in them having to build a larger stable for all of them. He loved every single one of them and took great care of each one. He said he occasionally had dreams where he was half a man and half a horse (basically a centaur), which is the origin of his title.

The Clownish Caretaker (Beforan Gamzee) He rescued lususless grubs and wrigglers with an absent lusus and took care of them temporarily, until a new lusus came to become their official guardian. Despite being tall, lanky and overall intimidating, he was a very sweet and cheerful man, and loved entertaining others. Just like others, he was also heavily against culling and said that “every motherfucker should know and be able to defend themselves.” One day, a lusus was coming to his hive to pick up a grub, but it was killed by Shapeye Furrline. The man never felt so much rage before. The pure platonic hate he held towards the woman was bigger than the amount of hate he thought he could feel. Despite that, and contrary to popular belief, he did not chase the lady and took him quite some time to calm down. He was responsible for raising The Unculled and made sure to treat him properly.

The Historian (Beforan Eridan) A seadweller with a huge fascination for history, he dedicated his life to learn more about the mysteries of his world. He read diares and looked for accurate informations, instead of believing in telltale stories. He studied ancient walls and occasionally collected some artifacts, purely for research reasons, and that’s when he met The Treasure Huntress. They decided to travel together, and it did not take long for him to become flushed for her. Unfortunately, she did not return the feelings, instead being pale for him. They agreed to stay friends, but very deep inside, he was still a bit disappointed.

Her Glorious Imperialist (Beforan Feferi) The ruler of Beforus. She was a very kind and sweet woman, undoubtedly one of the best rules Beforus has ever seen. She treated her people with fairness, yet despise that, she was pro-culling, saying that some should not face the dangers of the world. After offering a job for The Seamstress, she and the jadeblood grew close. Despite being the one in charge of the planet, she decided to take care of Arachnid Cap8tain herself, and being a seadweller, it wasn’t hard to find her. She still congratulated The Attorney for her efforts in chasing the troublemaker pirate.