#week 0

[herb10]

JUSTIN HERBERT I Chargers Week 0 Practice 1 [27 Aug 2025]

📸 (c): Joaquin Torre

[bluebirdwithhat]

I'm gonna draw him every week of 2026 (until the chapter drops)

So i need to get a bit of practice in (this)

[stupid-little-beanbag]

WEEK 0: 900 RESETS

I came up with this idea while tweaking some settings for my art on the other sideblog. I want to practice drawing a single thing, over and over again, and this elusive bastard is perfect. he has big shapes, not too complicated. . . maybe it'll motivate me to be more consistent with my resetting too.

ref:

I just found this when I searched Jirachi. I cannot find an artist to credit and don't know if it's a screenshot. In the future, I'm just gonna use official stuff like cards and anime screenshots o avoid accidentally pissing off other creators. ok? ok.

[justinherbert10]

Practice 3, Week 0

📍 The Bolt, CA | Aug 29, 2024

🎥: chargers | Justin via Instagram Story (Aug 29, 2024)

[yourocsbackstory]

Your OC’s Backstory: Emotion Edition

It is on, everyone. The newest edition of Backstory Weeks is about to start. This time, an all new theme. In the coming weeks, we’ll look at how core emotions have shaped our OC’s pasts, how they deal (or dealt) with feelings and what makes them them.

How does it work? Use a character from one of your WIPs (planned or in progress, or even finished); I recommend you stick with one, but it’s not required. Think about the questions, then use the prompts to write a scene set before the main story. That scene may be one that has significant impact on who they are today - or simply one that just showcases an important part of their past. Just see where you end up. And - have fun.

What matters? Be creative and support others! Check out their characters and scenes, find what you like, share, comment and make new friends!

What to do to be reblogged? Finish until the respective Sunday (your time or mine, doesn’t matter) and let me know you did it. Tag me, send it to me directly or tag with #yob7 or #yourocsbackstory. If it’s more than 500 words, please use a cut. Edits are welcome but not at all necessary. Please add content warnings before a cut if applicable. If you’re insprired, feel free to write nsfw entries, but I will not share them. This is a sfw blog.

Week 0 Introduction - prompt.

For week 0, we’ll focus on introduction and stick to the same questions we have before.

Write a scene or a monologue, where your character introduces themself to the reader, or to a random, friendly stranger. 

Here’s some possible prompts for that:

(a) Imagine they are stuck somewhere (waiting in an airport, adrift in a lifeboat, having their curls done at the hairdresser, whatever) and a young kid asks them „who are you?“. How would that dialogue play out?.

(b) Start with the words “My name is [your character’s name]” and have them introduce themself!

(c) Have them stuck in a police interrogation (guilty or not...), and make the detective desperate to find out who that person on the other side of the table is.

(d) Have them interviewed by a news host on television or in radio.

(e) Well, whatever you want really ;) Just let them talk.

Preliminary Schedule under the cut:

Week 0 “Introduction” - prompt NOW, entries until March 7th

Week 1 “Fear” - prompt posted on March 8th, entries until March 14th

Week 2 “Joy” - prompt posted on March 15th, entries until March 21st

Week 3 “Disgust” - prompt posted on March 22nd, entries until March 28th

Week 4 “Sadness” - prompt posted on March 29th, entries until April 11th (2 weeks due to Easter in between)

Week 5 “Anger” - prompt posted on April 12th, entries until April 18th

Week 6 Free Week - prompt posted on April 19th, entries until April 25th

[hiveiacomus]

Slagg’s Drift, Week 0

What a spot of fun that was! When a Guilder of dubious reputation named Yotan Bliss cracked open an old vault in Slagg’s Drift, he found more than anyone bargained for. He bottled as soon as he heard the moans, and the gangers who’d had the bad fortune to sign on with that drokkhead found themselves locked in the vault with hundreds of plague zombies! Four gangs, three fighters apiece, trying to survive the hoards until their buddies outside could get the doors open. They hurried to climb off the killing floor, and even worked together well enough, though they clearly didn’t much care for it. The chaos lads (Red Hand, they were called) went off on their own, and climbed pretty high, but the flesheaters followed ‘em up, and it weren’t long ‘fore they tumbled off the catwalks with their guts spilling out. The others fared a bit better, though the Eschers (Compulsory Vivisection, the combi-gang of killers and punk rockers) got mobbed pretty bad. I saw one girl go down, and another was surrounded ‘til the “Ministorum priest” from El Orden de San Miguel del Vacio (try saying that three times fast!) tossed a gout from his hand-flamer and set half of them on fire. He seemed to be aiming squarely at the lass, but it worked out well, so I suppose all’s well that ends well. Those whispering Delaques (the Serpent Syndicate, the snakes!) got caught up in a tight space, and that grenade-launcher-toting Orden lass blasted ‘em all out, doing some significant damage to the zombies, but hitting the Delaque leader squarely in the back! ‘Course, the Delaque got their own share of backstabbing. When the Delaque girl shotgunned the Escher into a hoard of zombies, I was pretty sure it wasn’t an accident, until she threw herself into the fray to save her! They’re a weird lot, those Delaques. Never know where you stand with ‘em. By the time the doors got opened, all the gangs were banged up pretty bad, ‘cept the Orden, on account of the big lad with the 4-foot claws tearing up zombie after zombie.

When they got out, they found medicae, crates of loot, and a note reading:

"Thank you for your assistance with the vault. Distracting those zombies was what I needed to get access to what I wanted. As a token of thanks, I have arranged for a medicae to nurse any of your members back to health. You may also have some of the equipment of the previous crew I sent in there to do the job. Obviously they were not as successful as you were. No hard feelings yeah? - Yotan Bliss"

Funny little thing that cookin’ up here, eh?

Keep all your eyes open!

-iii

P.S. I snapped some picts of the action. Take a look,  scummers!

[hualing-the-witch]

0 - III

2nd Water Tiger, Spring Beginning 1st (After Noon)

Huālíng blows over the chipped bowl filled with a tisane he’s carefully brewed in his now-vacated and washed sleeping kettle.

Zhì, for her part, huffs impatiently as she squats beside him by the cleaned-up fire pit.

“This is a lot of waiting just for something I coulda eaten with my hands,” she grumbles, the blue of such earlier exploits still staining her lips and fingers.

“Patience is a virtue,” he chides gently, without any bite.

“Grown-ups say that.”

“I am a grown-up,” he points out idly, testing the temperature of the simple tisane with the back of one knuckle.

“You’re a vay-ga-rant.”

“How rude,” he says, raising the bowl out of her reach, “Who taught you to call people that?”

She pouts, her frown deepening, “People just say it,” she defends, eyes flickering between the bowl and the steaming surface of the liquid within the cauldron, “Nobody says what a vay-ga-rant is,” she whines in her defense.

“Hm,” he glances at her sidelong as he mimes a long, loud sip from the bowl, “Is it a nice thing to call someone?”

Her face falls, first as he sips from the bowl, then further as she thinks about the question, turning it over in her head.

He waits, enjoying the sweetness of the tisane on his tongue and the warmth radiating from the cauldron.

It’s chilly in the hut, even with most of the walls shored up and pats of mud and grass temporarily filling the holes. 

‘It doesn’t seem as though it was built with snowy winters in mind.’

There had been scraps of clothing in a chest that he’d managed to regain the barest shreds of his dignity from, and a few pieces that hadn’t been suitable for wear had become wrappings for his hands and feet.

The winter weather had been biting in the early morning, but some warm hint of spring and respite could be found on the sunward side of the hut.

In the early afternoon the cold is only unbearable in long stretches, and he’s been banking the fire and collecting wood to dry for most of the day in order to spend a more comfortable night outside a pot.

Now, however, the biting in his stomach has finally overwhelmed his caution and he’s decided to indulge in a tisane of the water enoki growing abundantly in the icy wet around the hut.

‘-the stones around the wellspring can be rearranged easily. That’ll redirect all of that water--most of it. Perhaps leave enough to keep patches of enoki sprouting. It’s a blessing it’s here. Uncle Witch knew a good spot when he saw it-’

Huālíng considers the figure on the painting behind him, and wonders if there’s a weight to those inked-in eyes, or if it’s just his imagination.

‘-more firewood. A trip to the little village to walk Zhì home and see where I’ve ended up. Perhaps the tisane will sell. There are plenty of empty jars-’

Uncle Witch, who--Zhì’s informed him--has no other name, seemed to have once left things in fair condition. Though neglect and disrepair has taken a visible toll on the hut itself, some of the contents are still in fair enough order. Including the collection of jars and the cauldron itself, he’s found the dusty chest, a few sturdy pottery bowls, a sleeping mat rolled up in the rafters, a serviceable rolling mortar, and--surprise of surprises--a retort, cap, and curcubit: all the makings of a genuine alchemical still.

‘I’m beginning to think Uncle Witch was a proper alchemist after all,’ he thinks to himself as he hands Zhì the bowl of tisane, cooled enough not to burn the tongue, and pours himself a bowl to sip on while he organizes his thoughts.

“I don’t think so,” Zhì’s little face is still screwed up in serious consideration as she ponders the bowl cupped in her hands.

“You don’t think so?”

She looks up.

“I don’t think calling someone a vay-ga-rant is a good thing.”

Huālíng blinks at her.

He feels his chapped lips slowly pulling into a small smile.

Game Mechanics:

(Selected for the Garden Plot) Water Enoki - ★★ - PLANT - Bog (5) - Forest (10) - Add 1 point of Sweet - Caps of adult mushrooms (over 10ft tall) can be BOILED for [MAGIC] Journal Entry: Clusters of these slender, fast-growing, blue mushrooms spring up in shallow water overnight and often take only a day or two to reach their full height of ten feet. Because of their sweet, sticky spores, they’re often eaten by animals (and lucky children) long before they reach their mature height. Mature mushrooms are sturdy and flexible, with caps approximately the size of an adult’s spread hand that glow with an attractive blue light when in darkness.

[knamil]

This was from an art prompt on a discord I lurk on. I didn’t post it there because deadlines are for smart people. The prompt was “soul rend” a necromancer takes the soul of an apprentice that fails them for the last time. It’s supposed to be a Magic the Gathering type prompt, a black card, with the primary color being grays and blacks and some blue, which this is not because following directions is also for smart people. I gave her a corpse beetle broach thingy. the original idea being that the corpse beetle is a secondary carrion feeder. (Feeding on those that feed on the dead.) 

Anyway, the primary purpose of drawing this is to see where I’m at before my class starts. Class starts monday, I am excite.