#robogreaser

One can always strive to improve. There is always a path forward. There is always an advancement. There is always the next step in evolution...

Horuss Zahhak. Page of Void. Sweaty Hemoist.

The majestic hoofbeast in action lmao.

There’s not a lot about Horuss’ backstory, honestly. Not even Aranea knows much, as is the woes of a Light player to a Void player. We do know however that he’s a mechanic, a body builder, an archer, a poet, and not really a good listener.

It’s hinted that Damara might have killed him at least once before, so that’s neat.

Horuss is a kiss up to highbloods and a jerk to and about anyone below on the spectrum, though he laces this with a rather passive aggressive way. Or just a blatantly rude route. A lot of people think he’s nice because he’s always smiling and has this posh way of presenting himself.

Lmao wrong. If you actually look at his text and replace his smile with a frown, you’ll see he’s pretty uuuh. Not great. There shouldn’t even need to be a visual barrier for people to be aware that it’s not nice to treat warmer bloods as actual dirt.

Horuss apparently use to be a super angry/violent dude prior to his relationships with Meulin. Perhaps he’s calmed down some? Or not; he still isn’t entirely at peace considering his behavior, and Meulin’s only true advice is for him to smile through the hardships. Just smile. Bury all your negative emotions with pressured positivity. 

And he does! Doesn’t stop him from saying stuff thought!

Hell, he thinks/thought the idea of being pale with a “r*d*culous midb100d”  was the funniest thing, and only gave it thought after seeing the moirail relationship of Nepeta and Equius (which in turn, I suppose he if anything got with Meulin through romantizing the idea versus actually having interest in her.).

He describes Rufioh as “forbidden b100d.” He describes Kankri blood as “degenerate, mildly nauseating mutant b100d.” At Damara, he describes Rufioh was being the only one to understand her “vulgar, peasant tongue.”

Since he’s such a meanie about lowbloods, I don’t think that Darkleer, Horuss on Alternia, would be a kind gentle giant versus someone who was more than in line with his expectations of a highblood among inferior castes. Especially if he were to grow up in a society that would probably tell him good job for it.

Oh yeah he also doesn’t really give a shit about being apart of Rufioh’s scandelous cheating but I’m not terribly surprised.

He’s kin with hoofbeast, that’s a thing, and this time it seems like we have a member of the group that actually means it this time. Though sometimes it comes off as either an identity crisis, or more a fetish. He uses so many puns. He has a horse, er, toy. Rufioh couldn’t move and instead of being a normal person he gave the guy a horse body; it of course parallels to Tavros’ legs being the help of Equius, but if anything elaborting on the fanonization of Equius’ horse interests. 

That’s what the majority of dancestors are, by the way. Parodies of fanon beta trolls.

Finally, his relationship with Rufioh sucks and he appreciates the guys avoidant malleability. I know Rufioh doesn’t really curse to not attract Kankri, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Horuss tried to also have some say in it what with the similarities. Honestly, I take back a smidge of what I said about Rufioh. He isn’t that cowardly to try and not break up with Horuss, because he tried and horse fuck over here got too sweaty to acknowledge the issue and talked over him more than once.

Horuss is interesting, as said. I would’ve personally loved to see what he was like pre-Meulin.

Due to a manufacturing error, heavy artillery android, serial code 3QU-1U5 was produced with an exceedingly large surplus of strength.

(In a most unusual turn of events, this same defect was observed in both H0R-U55 and prototype 3XP-47R-1473. I question what caused this abundance of strongmen?)

TERMINATION APPROVED 

-Dr. S.Cratch

O Death?

YES

THAT ONE

Commissions are Open

Im officially, properly, finally opening commissions for real. I know what you might be thinking. Mike, haven’t you had commissions opened for a while now?

Yes and no. I’ve had emergencies left and right most of this summer and on occasion I would take on a commissioner here and there to make ends meet. My work queue has been steadily growing. But, now that I have a slew of commissions in the works about to be completed and my finances are a complete disgrace I am officially, properly, finally opening commissions.

There are an indefinite amount of slots available. Mostly because things are looking rather bleak on my end. (More on that later.)

I have reworked my prices to reflect my change in skill, my turnaround time, and my actual audience. That being said, I am flexible and open to discussing prices with commissioners interested in multiple pieces or something within my particular niche. Don’t be afraid to approach me.

You can contact me through tumblr, twitter, or if you have it, my discord (not listed here.)

Please see the terms above about the process of requesting a slot and payment. Payment is only done through paypal at this time. I am open doing the vast majority of topics in my art, the exceptions listed above. If in doubt, feel free to talk to me, or request a private, anonymous commission.

If you can’t afford something or would only like to donate, my ko-fi is listed in the commission post above (mostly because linking it makes tumblr angry for some reason.)

Now, onward to an explanation and breakdown of my current financial situation so y’all can get an idea as to what I am facing at the moment. This will be under a read more to save dash space. Apologies ahead of time to mobile users.

Hey again, it’s commission time.

Update First: I’ve recently gotten myself a part time job at a local florist. If you’re wondering why I’ve slowed down activity and been generally hard to get a hold of, that’s why. I love the work and I’m trying my best to impress the woman who owns the business so I can snag a full time position.

That being said, I am still in some financial straits. The work is only part time, the pay isn’t all that great, and my bank/credit card has been fucking my over royally with overdraft fees I was doing so much math to avoid. So on top of rent, I have a three figure bill to handle asap.

So that’s the update.

ON TO COMMISSIONS.

Rules are the same as last time.

I am wiling to draw damned near anything, with the exception of a few extremely nsfw situations. Talk to me if in doubt. Furries, mechs, nsfw, real people, almost anything goes.

The more reference, visual or written, is very much encouraged. If you’re wanting a painting of a non-fictional, real person, or something based off of them, I will need as much visual reference as possible.

Options and Prices are listed above. If you want something not listed, like writing or something custom like a dakimakura, contact me and we can talk it out. I am more than willing to accommodate reasonable requests.

If you require your commission by a certain date tell me. My work queue is relatively slow between freelance writing obligations and real life obligations. I will always try and accommodate my commissioners though.

Payment is done in full for a priority spot in my queue or half now, half later for a regular spot.

Payment

All payment is done through my paypal, [email protected]. If you’re having trouble using Paypal, feel free to contact me and I can work something out on my end to make things work out.

He moved in silence, body slipping among shadows as if it were fluid night, footfalls falling with a surprising softness. There was nothing that could stop him now. With a sharp eye focused around the corner and into the floodlight’s perimeter, he squared his shoulders and calmed what he could of his mind.

Equius refused to make this place his grave. He refused to give in. He refused.

And that was part of the problem, wasn’t it? Or was it the strength tenfold and then tenfold again that marked him for death? He didn’t know. He didn’t care. Horuss and the elder were… He gulped. The thought made his mind contort in conflicted feelings. He hated it. Moving from his hiding spot in the corner of the courtyard, he slipped around the pool of light the facility’s floodlight left. It was golden and bright and, to his eyes, a surefire sign of danger. Pressing his back to the wall, he moved like a soft, gentle beast, like a deer in the night forests.

He refused to be caught.

He refused to be killed.

It took some time to circumnavigate that circle of dastardly light. But Equius did it. There was a glimmer of pride in himself but he squashed it down with a heavy hand, unwilling to toot his own horn just yet. Not yet. Remaining as silent as ever, as hidden as ever, he moved forward, not taking a single solitary moment to check over his shoulder for anyone possibly following him.

His hood was up and kept properly aligned so as not to give away where he was looking or where he was focused. No. No more of that. No more poking and prodding and insisting on monitoring his every single action. No more.

He had come across the memo Sebastian Cratch, Dr. Cratch to be precise, had sent to the staff earlier that day. He wasn’t supposed to be hacking the facility’s systems. Sure. He knew that. But he did anyway. Regardless of the morality of it, he had come across that blistering memo and then, with a sense of blossoming emotion unlike any before, he went digging for more. Equius had found logs and notes, private in nature no doubt, that painted a vivid picture of a crass, careless, and somewhat narcissistic bastard. Was there any other way to describe Cratch? No. Of course not. Equius was sure of that much. He had been to the man’s office a scant few times earlier on during his stay. There was a pervasive feel of stodginess to that room, the wallpaper a thick, velvet-like fabric, rich green and constantly feeling as if it were closing in. Perhaps vocalizing those feelings were his first mistake. Perhaps not. Equius clutched his head of the dark hooded sweatshirt he was wearing, his other hand fiddling with the zipper some.

There were too many ‘perhaps’ in his thoughts. There needed to be more ‘definitely’ thoughts. There needed to more assuredness in him.

Lurking around the corridors of the facility had gotten him this far. Pushing the thought of Cratch out of his mind, he kept his head low, his hands petting at the leathery panels to his hoodie, trying to keep himself calm. There was no need to kick up a fuss if all went to plan. He could do this. He could definitely do this. He could escape. He knew it.

Those reassuring, yet frantic, thoughts kept rolling. Until they didn’t. Until those alarms went off, shrill and blaring and echoing across the facility.

The green flashes startled him at first, but he had a plan. There was nothing left but to run. There was nothing left to keep him subtle and hidden. The sound of marching, near-running footsteps echoed across the courtyard. He looked back into the pool of light left by the floodlight and hissed some. He didn’t want it to come to this.

A blue flash came to life under his hood, his eyes glowing as everything began to activate. Pants be damned. Shoes be damned. Subtlety be damned. With a bit of shame and only escape on his mind, his muscles activated their fullest potential, all of the imposed limiters in his chassis falling away, the shackles put in place by others fading into an electrical dust.

He would not be chained here to await termination at the hands of a careless, cruel doctor hellbent on creating the perfect product with every disregard for the personhood of the machine. His hoodie fell back as he turned, running at a speed that gave away every single notion of humanity. What lie underneath, what was obscured in dark until now, was left on full view for the guards and security forces rushing the courtyard from all sides.

Equius was a machine, a stunning blue-steel colored creation with synthetic hair trying to offer some humanity as it cascaded in a neat wave to one side of his head. He grunted, the personality inside his cranial plating leaving him nothing but agitated now. No one would take freedom from his silicone padded hands or else they’d meet his titanium backed knuckles.

They poured in from all four sides and he found himself corralled into the center of the light, his body glinting playfully in the accusatory golden glow of the lamp. He hissed again, steam venting along his neck and sides, clouding the air around him ever so slightly. He crouched down some, squatting some so that the tight pants the facility had given him grew taught over the incredible mechanical muscles they had built him. His face was obscured behind a tactical visor and face shield, and the blue line that denoted his visual sensors’ status flickered some. He looked up, hair falling back. He looked up into the night sky.

There was darkness and the ability to hide out there, even if it meant sacrificing his last shred of subtlety. He gulped, an instinct garnered from interaction with the programmers and interns more than something he was physically equipped to do.

His escape was a definite fate tonight. He knew it. Squatting down a little further, he whirred, hip servos preparing to act, computer mind calculating his trajectory. Over the clamor of the swarm of guards he could hear it as clear as day, the suave and commanding tone of Cratch becoming warbling and hoarse and, above all, frantic.

“STOP THAT THING NOW!”

Equius jumped, a cloud of dust and a trail of blue light the only thing remaining as the crowd closed in.