#and motivated to keep creating and growing as an artist

[astra-knights]

redrew my first fanart made for @vimeddiee webcomic, Under the Aegis, in 2016

i won't curse y'all with the original but please read the webcomic if you haven't yet (it's never too late), it inspired my little young creative heart and i still think about it and all the characters often

[xxswagcorexx]

thinking about that ashswag testrun ep......

[abra-ka-dammit]

man this generative imaging shits super pissing me off but like

sue the pants off everyone all u want, how do you stop this now? its already out there. people know how to make the ai. people can recreate the mechanism again and again no matter how many big ones you shut down. bad people will make their own and keep doing it. itll just get more down-low, and when they're less open about it, it'll be even harder to know when its happening

im worried this beast cant be killed

[sunlit-mess]

you are criminally underrated. *holds out hands like a sad victorian child* any tips for a young artist? :)

im a very. tired. artist.

To aspiring artists, I'm not sure what 'tips' or advice I can give that were not already said by another. However, I'll remind you anyway.

"There's no secret to art... just begin and keep going. That's all we can do."

Always set your pace, and take your time learning. Art is something that isn't rushed, rather it grows through experience. Think of it like exp points or something, the more you gain, the more you know and skills acquired. It doesn't mean you HAVE to abide by the principles or rules either, though it's best to know them. Knowledge comes in different ways and your method is yours to explore.

As for motivation, it's something you'd find attached to, a mission and values thing per se. Find your dedication, how will you strive, how much are you willing to pursue. What keeps you going? What WILL keep you determined?

We take criticism critically: Don't get your ego attached to every work, everyone has their own perspective. What I mean to say is to understand errors and find improvement. Be HONEST with yourself and your work. Nothing is ever wrong in art, hell- even the most fucked-up ones can look so beautiful and meaningful.

In social media or sharing artworks, it's cool to show them to your friends or relevant platforms your craft would be in, just gotta learn the long process of algorithm somehow... It's a pain, but never lose confidence! Believe in yourself. Even the tiniest of work, effort is counted as special. Because it's from you!

Lastly, enjoy what you do! Have fun once in a while, and best that you find fun all the time in your crafts! You create for a cause and not just to please. Art shouldn't be a cause to break you, rather it builds you.

I hope this message is enough? ::)

I've been drawing since I was young, now as an adult- my art is meh compared to other artists out there, but I still try my best to keep my mark around.

So much has happened in my life and I'm still VERY lost, especially in a path as an 'Artist'. Though, I fell off in art, burned out, and relapsed more than I can count,

nothing or no one can kill the part of me that just wants the world to see that I can still... Create.

[shineemoon]

(2014) TAEMIN - The 1st Mini Album ACE There were dreams and goals that I had in my mind from the day I dreamt of becoming an artist. Although I had to go through many obstacles, I learned that I should always believe in myself. Strong faith has been the motivation of energy that keeps me going. As my effort for the  dreams has made me become who I am today, I will continue to strive for higher goals with faith.

(2015) JONGHYUN - The 1st Mini Album BASE Just like my body’s stretch marks were a part of my growing pains, we will move on endlessly while enduring the pain, under the belief of my growth and this world’s growth. Because the pain creates the room for take-off, I thank you for the “stretch” that pushed me forward. As always, I need you.

(2018) KEY - The 1st Album FACE This is not defeating an impossible nor pushing limits. This album assures my capability within us and this will continue. All my actions are the truth of me and all for you.

(2018) ONEW - The 1st Mini Album VOICE Singing brings me great happiness. I tried to sing hoping that the song could bring healing to people who listen to it. In my own voice. With my song. For the sake of everyone’s happiness.

(2022) MINHO - The 1st Mini Album CHASE Finally, the puzzle is complete with this last piece. The story I will conclude with my narrative began with our faith. This faith, which cannot be explained in a single sentence, expands our universe and allows us to change this world. So I will not slow down in moving forward as I return and live with such faith. I shall look back at myself once more, continue to work hard, and always hold on to my convictions with modesty and gratitude. I will show that we are not wrong.

[samlizzy71]

I love your art! It’s so nice seeing trans art by a trans person about happy trans people :))))

Any tips for a beginner artist? What to draw, how to stay motivated, etc.

Thanks! I hope you have a wonderful day.

Thank you so much!! w I wouldn't know what to say, the usual "keep practicing" doesn't look like much of a help x) but sadly, is the only thing that will make you better as an artist. I always say that a good sign is that, a while after you've finished a drawing, you start finding imperfections, mistakes, and things that can be improved. Don't be obsessive, and be aware that your drawings won't be perfect, don't think that it means you're useless or anything, is part of the process. Don't hate what you do if it doesn't look as nice as you'd like, that won't get you anywhere, but is fine if you don't like old drawings after a while. That's a sign that you're growing and getting better. You're now able to identify what you can do better, I would worry if after years you still think your drawings are perfect, that means you're stuck there. However, when you become aware of one of those things that can be improved (for example, you realize that in a previous drawing, hands looked weird), try to do it better next time. Don't say "I can't draw hands", just try it x) And you won't suddenly make them perfect, but now you know what you have to work on.

Use references, DON'T copy or trace, but as a visual artist, you have to be very *visual*, so, look at the way others have made their own art, and see what you like about different styles. Search for pictures of people doing activities you want to draw, doing different poses, etc., Is like writing or composing music, you need to read or listen, even if you will create something new, it's great to have references and guides. As for motivation, that's more difficult ^^ It is completely different for each. For me, the motivation at first was creating characters I could surround myself with when I was feeling awfully lonely and depressed, you know, to give them their own lives to get myself distracted from my own. Now my motivation comes more from knowing other people have found themselves in my characters and stories, and that somehow what I create has helped them, even if just a few, even if just a little. I like to compare my old drawings with the newer ones, just to see how much progress I've made x) This is my first digital drawing from 2012, versus one from 2024 (Some people improve a lot faster, I just took a lot of time because the first years I didn't draw as much, in 2018 I only made 3 drawings)

[cupcakeslushie]

sorry for nagging you but i wanted to ask if you have some tips on making comics. I’ve trying making many comics but i always lose motivation and can’t seem to get past even the first panel sometimes.

I did make a pretty long post here, with some advice for starting out! But that’s more technical I guess, and it sounds like maybe you’re looking for some motivational advice? So in addition to that post, I’d say…

Don’t look at these panels where you’re stuck as failures. Look at them, instead, as first drafts!! Keep the early planning stages loose, so it doesn’t feel like an arrow to the heart if you have to make changes. Many artists need to see their thoughts collected somewhere before they can refine things and move on to the next stage. Another big thing is learning to be okay with throwing those drafts away when they become more of a roadblock than a step towards that awesome, final version you’ve got knocking around in your head.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve spent an hour plotting the composition of a panel…or maybe I’ve gotten too focused on the little details of a character’s expression, but the rest of the shot has just….idk died. I’ll copy and paste what I did like, and delete what’s not working or I’ll completely start over, no fuss. Wipe my hands of it and refuse to look at it as a failure. If I drew it once, I can draw it again! Practice isn’t time wasted, it’s time invested into growing! Drawing is drawing!

It’s always good to look back at your work, so you can see your improvement, but only focusing on your unfinished pieces might be doing more harm than good.

And maybe, you don’t have to draw a full 10 page comic from the get go! Try experimenting with shorter form comics! You can tell quite a number of stories in just a few panels! Learning the ins and outs of something new is a lot easier to accomplish when it’s done in smaller increments. That way you can have that feeling of success more often and it’ll motivate you into not giving up!

When I started EW, I was doing parts in like, one or two pages! Because I was still nailing down the comic techniques I wanted to employ. I was gathering brushes and learning how and when to use them! Learning how to create compositions that worked around dialogue bubbles! All the boring parts of comic creating lol. But then, the more comfortable I became with those techniques, the less time they took, and I could really go wild with the creative aspect! Now my updates are much longer!

It’s just a process. But at some point, all the advice and resources in the world can only help so much. You have to be willing to put in the time!

I’d say it’s kinda similar advice they give when you start working out. When you’re first starting, and you try to do more than your body is comfortable with, you’ll be in a lot of pain and won’t want to continue. It’s easy to give up if you’re not seeing results and you feel like you’re wasting your time. But if you start in a reasonable place, and let yourself learn as you go, then you can gain good habits and it’ll get easier!

And only then, when it’s easy, that’s when you challenge yourself! Not when you’re already struggling with just starting! Or it won’t be fun and all of your drive will disappear!

And that’s really what you’re doing this all for, right? For fun!

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐚 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn, mutual pining, secret relationship

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

word count: 4.8k

chapter summary: Due to a power outage in your home, you have to stay with Joel and Sarah for a couple days until it gets fixed.

warnings: female masturbation, accidental eavesdropping, pillow humping/fucking (joel)

Chapter Five || Chapter Seven

You only see butterflies. 

You see them fluttering at the window, in your kitchen, in your bedroom. You see them sitting on top the mirror in the bathroom, you see them in the cupboards. They’re everywhere. They consume you. In every shape and color, you see them. You see stars on top of their wings, circles, hearts. Some are white, some are pink. But most of them are blue. 

They remind you of him. Of Joel. And you draw—you paint. 

You sketch wings on paper. Paint colors that become them. It’s him. It’s Sarah. It’s Tommy. It’s Olivia. Your brother. Your grandfather. It’s everyone that lingers in your heart, in your mind. You see them in the shapes that you draw. All of them distinctly different. 

Joel is a dark red, a dark purple with splattered white. The wings are sharper, longer, the largest butterflies. The ends of his wings have long extensions like antennas. It is beautiful, ethereal, strong. 

Tommy’s butterflies are similar to Joel’s, only softer around the ages and smaller. Blue, golden, a light shade of red. His wings glimmer under both sunlight and moonlight. Sarah’s are the smallest, pink and blue with a lighter shade of purple. Her design is the most elegant, her wings curl at the end, more fairy-like. 

Olivia’s are green, her wings long and slender. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t drawn inspiration from Tinker Bell—green, yellow with light blue specs. 

It’s the early hours of the morning, soft sunlight only just starting to spill from the windows. Despite your sweatshirt and the blanket you had haphazardly thrown over your shoulders, the early chill settles in your bones. You narrow your eyes, tilting the sketchbook, you hold it towards the overhead light. It’s hard to see and your eyes sting when you blink. But you don’t stop, you can’t stop. They’re everywhere and you need to draw them, you need to put them on paper before they disappear. It’s been months since you’ve painted anything. Now that the colors were splashing over white you don’t want to stop. It’s a breath of fresh air. 

Finally, you’re breathing again after being submerged for so long. 

The realization that you had feelings for Joel, and Tommy for you, make this unrestrained desire to create even stronger. You’re breathing because of Joel—because he had told you to draw butterflies. You want to show him what you’ve made, you want to show Tommy as well. It should make you afraid. The things that you feel. He has someone after all, no matter how serious their relationship might or might not be, however, isn’t this the perfect motivator for any kind of artist? You feel pain. A different kind of pain that you can actually use instead of the grief that aches in your bones. 

Pain is one of the fundamentals of art. The beauty of art comes from within, and so does pain,  it’s the process of creating it not the end product. It’s the journey. Some of your favorite artworks are derived from pain; Dorotea Tanning’s Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, Dali’s Elephants, and The Broken Column by Frida Kahlo. 

Despite being transfixed by Dali’s work (his work with butterflies has been a strong inspiration in what you make), you feel most drawn to Tanning’s style of showcasing pain. You always saw yourself as the girl within the Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, walking down the blood-colored carpet, a giant sunflower in front of her, tattered and ruined. You were always curious about the cracked open door ahead, wondered what might be laying within the only room with an open door.

Your thoughts seep through the pencil, become shapes and lines on paper. You admire the texture of the clean sheets, the lead against it music to your ears. You draw and draw, some making less sense than others. Page after page your butterflies become something else, they become more gruesome with split heads and sharp, glass-like wings. You swallow. The sweat clinging to your skin is cold, your fingers numb. 

And just like that you’re buried in muted darkness. 

“Shit.” you hiss, looking up accusingly to the light. “What the fuck?” 

You get up and head to the window, your fingers curling around the edge of the curtains. It’s early but it seems like some of your neighbors are already awake—and has light. 

“Fuck,” you say again. 

The sun warms your back. You’re staring at the blank screen of the TV. You hear the faint murmurs coming from the Miller’s kitchen, Joel paces back and forth, his socked feet silent. Anxiety clawing at your chest, you shove your hands between your thighs and keep them there. Joel appears. You look up at him as he leans down, placing the phone on the coffee table. 

“So it looks like the power outage is gonna take them a couple of days to fix, maybe even a week,” your heart sinks at his words. He notices and a soft smile tugs at his lips. “Don’t look so worried. You can stay here, we have a spare room. I’ll check on them to see they're doing everythin’ right.” 

“Oh,” you say, a hint of worry etched into your voice. “I wouldn’t want to trouble you with all that. I was just thinking of just calling up my brother, or I can stay at Olivia’s.” 

He waves you off in dismissal. “You ain’t troubling anyone. Besides, it’ll be easier to just bring what you need here. Or if you forget somethin’ you can just go and get it.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure, darlin’,” he answers, voice dropping a beat. “Stay.” 

A shudder settles at the base of your spine. You nod. You feel a thick knock in your throat as you swallow. You can still see the lines of sleep mapping across his cheeks, his bed hair a sight to behold. Looking down at the coffee table, you try not to think about how good he looks with his gray sweatpants hugging his thighs—you especially try not to think about the night you drew shapes across his hand and forearm with nothing but your fingers. 

You dream of painting him. Putting him on a blank canvas and hanging it on your wall. He’s a beautiful man. Strong body, a pronounced nose, warm eyes. 

Sarah's sudden jump off the last step startles you and interrupts your thoughts. When she sees your expression, she looks puzzled herself.

“Mornin’,” she greets you, ready for school. “Did something happen?” 

“Power outage,” Joel answers on your behalf, Sarah turns to him. “She’s goin’ to be stayin’ with us for a while.” 

Your heart melts at how wide Sarah smiles, you can see the glimmer in her eyes. “That’s great!” she sits next to you. “Well, not great great, but we can have a sleepover! It’ll be fun, you can teach me how to draw.” 

“Sarah…” Joel warns. 

You cut him off before he can say anything else. 

“That sounds great,” you smile. “I actually have a couple of drawings I’ve been meaning to show you guys.” 

“Really?” Joel asks. 

“Yeah, really.” you answer, grinning at his surprise. You pull out the sketchbook from your bag and place it on your lap. Heat grows between your legs as Joel sits next to you, the meat of his thigh pressed snug against your own. 

Both Miller’s lean in closer, staring at your drawings—themselves, in a way. You don’t think they’ll notice, especially not Joel, but you realize that maybe Sarah does. Her fingers delicately move over the drawing that you did thinking of her.

Sarah grabs your arm and diverts your attention back to her, “Butterflies.”  she murmurs.

“How do you like your coffee?” 

“With milk,” you answer. “A lot of it, preferably.” 

“So milk with a dash of coffee,” he grins, amused. “Got it.” 

It’s been a couple of days since you moved in with Joel and Sarah. It was much easier to live with the father-daughter due than you initially had thought. Tommy came over in the mornings, dropping you off to work and Sarah to school, and the brothers went to do their own thing after that. 

With Joel’s back turned to you, you look down at your sketchbook and add another line to what is supposed to be his unruly hair. He really needs a haircut. 

Surprisingly living with him isn’t weird at all. He made you feel welcome. No awkward glances, no awkward touching. Just neighbors helping each other out. He places the steaming mug next to you and leans on his elbows. He looks at what you’re drawing and raises an eyebrow. 

Joel brings the mug to his lips. 

“You’re paintin’ me?” 

“I’m sketching you,” you answer. “You’re a lovely specimen.” 

“Is that so.” 

The scent of coffee fills your lungs. Lifting your gaze, you observe his facial structures. You see the imperfections, take in the sight of his eyes, his bushy eyebrows, and the bald patches in his beard. You want to touch the small beauty park right in the corner of his eye that’s impossible to see unless you’re an inch further away. 

 If he knew how you saw him—if he knew how big he was in your mind— Joel would be terrified. 

“Do you like art?” you ask, taking him by surprise. He takes a sip of his coffee and your gaze drops back to your sketch.  

He hums, fingers thrumming the kitchen counter. “I like your art.” 

“I should take you guys to an art gallery or something,” you say, smiling. “If you like mine, you’re going to go nuts over the things that are out there.” 

Joel pouts and you roll your eyes. “What are you looking at me like that for?” you ask.

“I like your drawings. They’re—They feel close. I don’t know how else to describe it.” 

It’s because it’s you who I think of when I create them. 

“Do you know Salvador Dali?” you ask, then quickly add. “Or Dorothea Tanning?” 

“Sweetheart, the only artist I know is Da Vinci and I’m not even a hundred percent sure he is one.” 

“He is,” you affirm him excitedly, looking back up. “I love surrealism. It’s when everything gets really weird basically. So—wait let me show you. I think I have a couple of pictures between the pages.” 

You miss the way Joel’s lips slowly curl up, adoration and fondness adorning his face, softening the edges. He comes closer. Your pulse quickens as your fingers rush to find the images, and when they do you basically rip them out from between the pages 

“Look.” 

All of them are images from Dali’s artwork. Mainly butterflies. Joel observes them carefully, touching them as if fearing he might stain them. You urge him to take a closer look by placing one between his thick fingers. It’s The Butterfly Rose. 

“Never thought you would do homework for a hobby.” 

“It’s not—” You let out an exasperated sigh, cutting yourself off mid-sentence. “Do you think I want to work at the coffee house forever? It’s not just a hobby. And of course, as an artist, I look at other art to be inspired. They make me feel things.” Seeing the startled expression on his face, you add, “Don’t you get like…shivers or something when you see a very nice wooden table?”

Oh, you made him uncomfortable. You sense that in an instant. His fingers trace the image of the painting, looking down, you notice the crease between his brows deepening with concentration. Was he concentrating on the image? In your words? You have no idea—the only thing you know is that this man concentrating on art is making your insides clench with a need. 

“Sorry,” he grumbles. “I didn’t mean it like that. I do think you’re a serious artist. It’s just…fuck that came out wrong. I just didn’t think you would put in this much effort to somethin’ I said,” he shakes his head. “Shit, I’m bad at this.” 

That undeniable need to touch him comes rushing back. You bite the inside of your bottom lip instead. “ I think I might’ve overreacted after hearing the same thing from my brother all the time. It’s all good. You might be the only one that takes me seriously so it was unfair for me to jump to conclusions like that.” 

“He don’t support you?” 

“He does…” you trail off. “In his own way, I guess.” 

“That doesn’t sound like support,” he answers, clicking his tongue. “And just FYI I like your butterflies better, sweet tea.” 

“Sweet tea?” you ask, lips curling with amusement and eyes widening with shock. 

He shrugs. “You said you liked Dorothea…somethin’---” 

“Tanning.” you quickly say. “So Sweet Tea as in…the last syllable of her name?” 

“Would you rather I call you Tea?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“Nope!” you grin, your heart elevated. “Sweet Tea is perfect.” 

With a soft smile, Joel places the picture in front of you and gently taps on it. 

“Well then, Sweet Tea,” he says. “Tell me more about this surrealism thing.” 

You and Tommy are waiting by the truck for Joel and Sarah to buy snacks from 7-Eleven. You remember the funny looks the Millers gave you when you suggested buying snacks at the cinema instead. Joel had just shaken his head and steered you towards the truck, his hand on your waist. The touch burned you. 

Then he proceeded to explain the thrill of sneaking something through the cinema doors, and how they deserved it due to their overpriced snacks. The latter you couldn’t really object against. However, you had no idea that the Millers were such kleptomaniacs. 

Tommy had a cigarette between his lips, he pulls it out and exhales a puff of smoke. You watch it mixing into the dark blue night. 

“How’s it like staying with my brother and niece?” he asks. “Hopefully Joel ain’t given’ you too much trouble.” 

“Oh. Not at all,” you smile, waving your hand. “He’s been nothing but kind. You have nothing to worry about.” 

Tommy nods, and he flicks the cigarette to the pavement, stepping on it, he comes closer. “Good good.” you feel his heat, his breath. You shudder. “I miss spendin’ time with you…I mean without anyone else.” 

His voice is a low hum in your ear. You had missed hanging out with him too, but now it's clear that your feelings don't quite match his. Your gaze drifts to the windows of the 7-Eleven, where Joel and Sarah are at the register, scanning the items and chatting. A burst of laughter from Joel warms your heart.

Tommy touches your chin, pulling your gaze back to him. Your pulse quickens under his touch. You swallow. 

“You’ve been distant lately,” he states. “Did I do somethin’?” 

“What?” you gasp, then furiously shake your head. “No. No, of course, you didn’t. I’m…It’s just been hectic with trying to get the power back and the drawings—It doesn’t mean anything, I promise.” 

“If you say so, sweetheart.” he smiles and you fight the urge to let out a breath of relief. “Don’t think about it so much. Joel said the electricity will be back in no time, he might’ve…” he clears his throat. “He might’ve threatened them a bit but it was all light-hearted.” 

You snort. “How can a threat be light-hearted?” 

“You know,” he grins. “When you place a hand on a guy’s shoulder and just squeeze it a bit while smilin’. It’s unnervin’ really. He does that a lot, gives me the creeps sometimes. But then again, a man gotta do what he’s gotta do.” 

“Well, I appreciate it.” you gently kick the pavement with the tip of your shoe. “But no threats necessary. I’m sure they’re going as fast as they can.” 

“We got the goods!”

Sarah comes running, a wide smile stretched across her face as she hugs her jacket tight around her. Joel follows, a lopsided smile on his lips.

When Sarah reaches you and Tommy, she looks around then back to you, she opens the front of her jacket. “See,” she smirks, showing you the various snacks hidden underneath the thick layer. 

Tommy whistles. “That’s quite a haul, baby girl. How long is this movie? Five hours?” 

“I wish,” Sarah snorts. “I’ve been waiting for this a loooong time uncle Tommy. Let me enjoy it.” 

Joel appears next to you, his own jacket also looking a bit tighter. You look up, smiling, and he parts his jacket, showing you, as Sarah had dubbed, “the goods”. 

“I just want to say for the record,” you exclaim, opening the back door. “If you two get sick I’m not cleaning up after you.” 

“You break my heart, Sweet Tea.” Joel answers, hand on his chest as if he’s been shot. “And here I thought you had my back.” 

“I do but not for self-inflicted stomach aches.” 

Sarah slides in after you and Joel takes his place at the passenger seat. Tommy looks at you through the review mirror as he buckles his belt.

“Sweet Tea?” he asks.

“Long story,” you answer, “I’ll tell you later.” 

The cinema. A place where every art form, visual or otherwise, shakes hands and comes together to create the most amazing of worlds. 

Ever since you were a kid you had this connection to the atmosphere. The scent of popcorn, the dim lights, the other movie enthusiasts excited to witness the magic of it all. You don’t know what it is that draws you to it. From memory, you remember instances where it would only be you and your brother at the movies, the two of you practically owning the dark room for about two hours. It was fun, it was almost magical. Just you and him. That’s it. It was a small town so it wasn’t a hard thing to come by. 

Now it’s the opposite. The screening room is filled to the brim, not one seat empty. Joel is on your left side and Sarah on your right, next to her sits Tommy. You notice she keeps patting her jacket. A small smile tugs at your lips, it almost looks like she’s afraid that the snacks would disappear. 

Despite the past and the present being drastically different, the feeling is the same. It’s a similar feeling to returning home after a long time. You’re excited, giddy almost. And it’s not because of the movie you’re about to watch—Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, one of Sarah’s favorite franchises— it’s from the memories of it. 

The lights turn off completely, the commercials start to play. 

Joel leans in, his shoulder brushing against yours. His lips touch your ear and your stomach tightens. You’re happy he can’t see your face. It would’ve been a dead giveaway if he did. 

“Pass these to Tommy,” he whispers, handing you a box of milk duds. You do as you’re told, Joel then pulls out a pack of Reese’s Pieces. “I do prefer the cups,” he mutters into your ear, you’re not listening, you just focus on the warmth of his breath and the way he turns your hand over. “But these will do for now.” 

You feel the small bite-sized peanut butter and chocolatey goodness falling into your sweaty palm. Throwing back your head, you plop them all into your mouth. You feel his gaze but purposefully keep your eyes glued to the screen. He’s too close. His presence bearing onto you like a heavy blanket. 

The movie finally starts and you do everything to keep your non-existent attention span on the large screen. 

An hour in, goosebumps begin to rise over your skin. It’s cold. The chill is something you always forget about the cinema. You didn’t really have a need to bring your jacket with you when you went out, the night air being warm. But of course, you’d forgotten that you always got chilly in the cinema, no matter how hot it was outside. 

Joel must’ve felt your shivering because soon enough you feel his fingers curling around your wrist. He shuffles closer. 

“Are you cold?” he murmurs and you nod. His fingers don’t desert you as he moves over Sarah to grab his jacket. He throws it over you, warmth immediately coiling around your body. “Better?” he whispers. 

“Yeah,” you say. “Thanks.” 

You’re hyper-aware that his hand remains on your wrist, some portion of his jacket covering your tangled limbs. His fingers tighten, thumb smoothing over your heated skin. Your skin prickles under his touch and soon he starts to skim your forearm up and down with the tips of his fingers. You cheat a glance at him but his sole focus is on the screen. His lips are pressed tight, brows pinched together. When a specifically bright scene appears on screen, you can see the vein meandering down his neck. 

You want to stare at him forever but you know you can’t. Your eyes flitting back to the screen, you ignore the way his fingers continue to move. His touch is much rougher compared to your own. More textured. His blunt nails scrape against your skin, the pads of his fingers travel to your knuckles then move back up again. 

It almost feels like he’s returning the gesture from before. The thought strikes fear. Is this his way of telling you that he knows? That he’d sensed your emotions through your fingertips and telling you; I see you. 

You want to snatch your hand away and your fingers twitch with the need for it. You haven’t heard Asha’s name for a while— But it’s not like Joel talked much about his personal life, and when your alone times with Tommy became limited you heard very little from the ongoing relationship. 

In the end, you don’t pull your hand back and he doesn’t stop touching you. The darkness hides the want, the need, the attraction. Because that is what this is right? Attraction. You’re not alone in your feelings. You can’t be. This was a silent message. A plea for you to say, I see you, back. 

And you do see him. You always have. 

The feeling of his fingers long lingers even after the intermission has come and passed. It stays with you as you exit the movies, as you listen to Sarah excitedly talk about her favorite parts, as Tommy bids you three farewell and drives on home. 

It lingers still. 

You don’t know what time it is. The only thing you do know is that it’s late. Very late. But no matter how much you toss and turn you can’t sleep. Your mind is wide awake with thoughts of Joel and nothing else. Him and his fingers, his lips, his neck. 

It shouldn’t surprise you that you end up sneaking a hand under your shirt, feeling yourself and imagining it was him instead. 

The sensation of your fingertips brushing over your sensitive skin is electrifying. You close your eyes and imagine it's Joel's hands exploring your body, his fingers tracing circles around your nipples and teasing them until they become tight and hard. His lips trailing down your neck, leaving a burning trail behind.

You bite back your moans as your hand moves further down, slipping between your thighs. Your fingers tease and stroke, exploring every inch of your wetness. You press down harder, your body aching and begging for more, as you think of Joel's hands exploring you. His fingers slipping in and out of your folds, tantalizing and teasing you until you can't take it anymore.

“Joel,” you whisper into the darkness, a prayer. “Joel, please.” 

Your breathing becomes shallow as your orgasm builds, and you moan out his name as you let go. The sensation washes over you, and you can almost feel Joel's hands on your body, his lips on your skin. When you pull out your fingers, you feel like a ragdoll, your limbs buzzing with your fading orgasm. You let out a breath. 

The phone rings. 

Your eyes narrow when you see Tommy’s name flashing on the small screen. Confusion and worry clouding your post-coitus haze, you pick up the phone. 

“Tommy,” you answer. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” he lets out a breath, his voice sounds frenzied. “I…I saw a—” whatever he was about to say he must’ve decided against saying it because the rest never comes. “I want to ask you somethin’”.

“You can ask me anything.” 

You say it but in hindsight, you probably shouldn’t have. Your heart is restless, your stomach clenching and unclenching in the span of seconds. You hear him breathing heavily from the other line. 

“Would you like to go out with me?” he asks in one exhale. “Like…on a date.” 

Joel doesn’t want the day to start. It’s unbearably warm, and unknowing to him, he had cast his shirt to the floor sometime during the late night. The morning chill settles over his back. His eyes are closed, his cock hard. He presses temptingly into the pillow between his legs. He has no idea how it ended up there, but he’s grateful for the added pressure. Joel doesn’t think he could ever forget what happened last night. 

The way he touched your burning skin under his jacket, the way you kept stealing glances from him—it was all still too vivid in his head. But then…then you went to bed, and so did he. 

When he woke up in the middle of the night to get water, he didn’t expect to hear his name coming from your room. He waited and listened, you whispered it again. It was such a faint sound that if it wasn’t the dead of night there was no way he could’ve heard it. His cheeks heat up at the memory. He just stayed there, like a deer in headlights, and fucking listened to you get off with his name tenderly falling from your lips. 

Joel had turned and rushed back to his room, his parched mouth now filled with saliva, water forgotten. 

And now, with those thoughts swirling in his head, he grinds himself into the soft pillow. A low groan echoes from the back of his throat. He squeezes his eyes tighter. What were you thinking about? Was it images of him tasting your cunt? Him fucking his cock deep into your sopping heat? Which one was it? What was it that forced those sounds out of your lips? 

Frustrated by the lack of friction, his eyes snap open with something resembling anger. Joel kicks off his sweatpants, brings the pillow underneath him, and squeezes the ends together, forming a crease. He shoves his aching cock between them, wishing it was you instead. 

He leans back, letting the warmth of the pillow engulf him, and takes a deep breath. His body is trembling as he moves his hips slowly. He lets out a low moan as his hips grind against the pillow, the sensation of it rubbing against his hard cock setting off sparks of pleasure throughout his body. The morning sun pours from between the curtains, kissing his skin. His hands grip the pillow tight as he moves his body faster and faster, letting out a series of moans and gasps. 

He imagines it's your body he's thrusting against, your soft curves, your tight embrace. His breathing becomes laboured, his balls draw tight, his stomach clenches. He sees a dark patch growing across the fabric. Joel collapses, his face pressing into the sheets as he rocks his hip forward like a dog in heat. His skin feels raw and over-sensitive. Every time the fabric rubs against his skin, he hisses. 

With one final thrust, he lets out a long, drawn-out moan as he comes hard, his mind filled with thoughts of you. 

He falls onto the pillow, panting heavily. The aftershocks of his orgasm ripple through his body. His cock is still pulsing with pleasure as it slowly softens. His hands run over the pillow, feeling the warmth and wetness left behind from his release. He can still feel the tightness of his orgasm, the pressure inside him slowly fading away. He closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath and letting out a satisfied sigh. Joel wants to feel you against him, to cage you in between him and the bed. 

His cock twitches. 

Joel turns onto his side, his body feeling heavy. The guilt gnaws at his insides. What the hell is wrong with him? First, he touches you during the movies like a man possessed, then he listens to you through the door, and now he’s fucking his pillow with thoughts of you. He groans and flips over to his back. He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, another groan leaving him. 

He has a fucking girlfriend, and no matter how lax the relationship was, he couldn’t continue on doing this. He needs to break up with Asha, then he needs to talk to you, get things sorted. 

When he allows his arms to fall to his sides, Joel entertains the thought that maybe—just maybe—everything might work out. 

[puc-puggy]

really fascinated with deadpool & wolverine less as a movie and more as a corporate response to the growing insecurity in relating to and creating meaningful art. like, never have we been more aware of the impact that the relationship between art and artist is oppressively mediated by Corporation than right now with marvel, whose movies grow continually worse and more forgettable under growing corporate control, and this movie bears the weight of a particularly complicated and contentious merger. what they decided to do about it is just. fascinating. disturbing, but fascinating.

the movie is incredibly aware that it is a Product and seems to have completely sidestepped any attempt at meaningful storyline in lieu of packing as much Content into 2.5 hours as possible. and I mean Content. they broke him up with his girl & separated him from all his meaningful character connections, then sent him through a very funny but disjointed and lackluster plot, putting all the meat in nostalgic character interactions or gratuitous fan-pleaser match-ups that can work as tiktok clips. don't get me wrong, i'm a basic x-men bitch. wolverine is one of my all time favorites, especially early angry fucked up alcoholic logan. i gasped at elektra and straight up screamed when wesley snipes came into frame. I laughed out loud at the list of cocaine slang terms disney apparently has. it was fun! it succeeded in making me not mind that it was barely a movie.

and that's the rub, isn't it? it was barely a movie, and it knows it’s barely a movie. but it still has to connect with its audience somehow. and that, i think, is what's really fascinating. it forges its connection with the audience not by building characters or stakes and giving any of them genuinely grounded emotional arcs but by using a fourth-wall breaking character to commiserate with the audience about the impact of corporate ownership & profit on their relationship and access to the stories we love. while being the impact of corporate consolidation on stories you love.

deadpool makes jokes about his stupid villain and mcguffin machine, but the plot is still motivated by a stupid villain and a mcguffin machine. he jokes about being banned from doing cocaine on screen & does not do cocaine on screen because he can't. the corporation that now owns his IP has deemed it against their values. he jokes about what things "have to happen" in the movie because there is actually a list that they were given. as a friend pointed out, “the climax was exactly as contrived as it needed to be to make it a statement: ‘you see how this barely-fleshed-out villain character is just gonna kinda stand there in front of the macguffin machine for as long as we need her to so that we can have the conversations and tropes and results we want? yeah we're just gonna do that. we're gonna keep cutting back to her just standing there going Mmmmm mwah haha to specifically highlight how dumb it is. On purpose.’”

by embedding it in the plot with a character that breaks the fourth wall, the movie stops being “about” the plot on screen and starts being “about” the collective relationship to the characters, embodied by ryan reynolds, whose personal desire for a good deadpool & wolverine movie motivated by his pure love for deadpool is the mythological origin of the movie, and who was allowed to break character and say as himself to hugh jackman as wolverine “you have no idea how long i’ve been waiting for this.” he’s turned into a sort of avatar of the pure fan, who’s there to love the character and have fun and isn’t too bothered by logistics and legalities. it wants you to feel like deadpool also hates it when stories get shuffled because of corporate stockowners, like this extremely expensive bullshit is his personal protest and he's going to give them a proper sendoff & ryan reynolds was around to hold everyone up to standard. the corporation soothing the audience and fan that people who love the stories are ‘in charge’ enough to create a good time, lowering your standards and expectations of a story to what’s profitable for them to create.

kind of genius.

[valkyriexo]

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[teeth2go]

Keep Your Mask On - I can see through it

they/them!MC x Leander

Warnings: Rated T. Mild mind-games. Maybe fluffy??? It's Leander so it could be worse. Word Count: 3.5k Word Density: mc, leander, hand, down, eyes, waiting.

What if a shy and somewhat manipulative MC beat Leander at his own game? Everybody is a winner.

It had already been a few weeks since Leander first held MC's cursed hands in his own. It was actually the first time anyone held MC's hands without immediately try to kill them.

Despite the initial shock of the experience, MC was slowly growing accustomed it. At the end of most days, the two of them would sit and chat in one of the booths at the Wet Wick, hands linked for few precious minutes.

MC had gotten into the habit of waiting around for him if they returned home before he did. "Home" being the same room Leander had gifted them the key to. They found a couple of interesting things in the bedside drawers, confirming some of the public rumors of his private escapades. Aside from the ones he freely admitted to of his own volition.

So there they were, again, waiting for their personal playboy as dusk crept up on the dingy street. They had begun helping out the bartender with small tasks instead of simply taking up space whilst waiting. This awarded the bartender a much appreciated opportunity to step away and deal with other things that kept her business in working order. It never hurt to be on good terms with your landlord. Even if you do live in a dive-bar.

The bar itself, counter and stools, served as a barrier between them and the many strangers who passed through the front door each night. People almost always traveled in groups after nightfall, and those groups very quickly added up into sizeable crowds that MC found overwhelming.

Sometimes a curious single from said crowds would venture up to MC and try their luck, only to consistently be turned down. Aside from the obvious issue of their hands, the casual advancements only reminded them more and more of what they were really craving, and of who they were waiting for.

In spite of his frequent innuendos and constant flirting, Leander's perpetual bashfulness remained one of their favorite cracks in his mask. MC was a glutton for the butterflies it gave them.

The night was slow, or about as slow as it ever got around there. Currently there were no brawls, which was always a boon.

MC helped themself to sampling some of the more exclusive spirits and enjoyed the warm buzz it created. They listened to nothing in particular as they focused only on slowly drying off the freshly washed wine glasses. The drowning chatter of the greater room faded out to an incomprehensible white noise.

The bar maids were responsible for serving the customers, so MC was safe to hide behind the counter and look unapproachable, a convenience for collecting their thoughts.

They thought mostly about Leander and the obvious masks he wore every day. They used to wonder where the mask began and his authenticity ended. It didn't take long for MC to figure out that he was indeed a performance artist, and the performances were part of the package deal. Not unlike the bright markings on a venomous animal.

MC also wasn't oblivious to the suspicious second life he led with the Blood Hounds. He had several roles to fill, and in order to balance it all without revealing his full hand, he donned those masks to survive. A quote came to mind. Something about "Nothing personal, it's just business."

MC understood the mentality but they wanted be part of his personal motives, not just business. As sure as fondness was growing between them, MC would have been a complete fool to expect him to actually lower his guard for simply nothing in exchange. Crossing his boundaries by simply expecting special treatment was not an option. They were going to meet him halfway, but that couldn't happen if neither of them stepped forward.

The next inevitable step in their relationship was gnawing on MC's mind. The cause of their hesitations, the whole reason they were over-thinking where they stood with him. It was something he'd humorously offered several times, and they absolutely did want to take him up on it, but the right conversation needed to happen first.

They felt his presence before his fingertips made contact with their shoulder. It didn't startle them, but it did manage to shake them out of their thoughts.

"Hello, Eridia to (MC)? Anyone home?" Leander called out to them. He must have been trying to get their attention while they were ignoring the noise of the livening building.

He was completely leaned over the top of the bar, arms reached out across the distance, knees balanced on the bar stools. He looked ridiculous. Whatever Blood Hounds had come in with him were already dispersed to their tables and corners of interest, likely somewhat embarrassed by their leader's unprofessional display. MC wouldn't be surprised if Leander had made a beeline for the bar as soon as he spotted them. Again.

His appearance indicated that he had been dragged around the city all day, no doubt wrapped up in his odd jobs and strange connections. There was a very fine layer of dust on his clothes, dulling the shine of his leathers. He looked like he needed a stiff a drink. He began making his way around the bar to help himself.

"Sorry. I was spacing out." MC finally replied.

Leander paused for a moment, looking them up and down, then at the random assortment of mostly full bottles and used shot glasses still sitting out.

"You started without me?" He smirked but his eyes barely made any effort to meet his lips halfway. MC cleared their throat. It used to unnerve them, initially thinking it was an insincere expression at worst, or devastating fatigue at best, but they had spent enough time with him now to recognize a curse when they saw one.

Something about Leander's magic was probably killing him in a way that MC did not yet fully understand. Many signs had been pointing to this conclusion since the very first day they met him.

There was something inside of Leander that was slowly poisoning him, like a silent gas leak in an empty house. It was another reason he wore those metaphorical masks, to cover whatever was slowly rotting his soul away. As much as MC was morbidly curious, the answers to those specific questions could wait. It wasn't worth lighting a match over. Yet.

"Having fun?" He slid past them, using his hand to briefly maneuver their waist out of his way. The touch returned their attention to the moment.

"Mhm, just keeping busy," MC murmured. The glass they were holding was polished perfectly. They wobbled a little, crossing the short aisle and reached up on their toes to slide it into the correct shelf along the wall.

"You know, you don't have to do all of that." Leander said, side-eying their flawed coordination. He'd finished procuring his own drink and flashed his signature smile, instantly filling the closed space with warmth.

MC shuffled back to their spot, leaning heavily against the edge of the sink and selected the next wet glass to work on.

"You really helped yourself to the inventory this time, didn't you?" He chuckled but MC didn't miss the inflection in his tone. Something of a friendly warning.

"Only a few samples. With permission of course," they smiled back at him and waited for his reaction from under their eyelashes.

Instead, he sipped his drink slowly, gazing out at the commotions behind MC. They watched the dark liquid slip past his lips, disappearing into his perfect mouth. MC moved forward to put the next glass away, but was distracted by a stray droplet that was sliding down his chin. They nearly missed their step and began veering to the side.

Leander deftly hooked his arm forward and caught them, allowing MC to recenter their balance. He retracted his arm and bemusedly allowed them to continue on their way, wiping the droplet away with his knuckles.

They completed the task again, and then again. Each time they turned away from the wall of glasses and bottles, they caught Leander moving his eyes away from their direction. He was definitely watching when they stretched up to reach the shelves. MC raised him an inquisitive eyebrow, which earned them a friendly wink. They rolled their eyes, but that restless thought was growing louder.

"I think it's safe to assume you've been down here for a while." He gestured to their sampling. "Hopefully I didn't keep you waiting too long." MC felt their cheeks become a bit warmer and hoped that the blush blended inconspicuously with the one they already had from their buzz.

"Not at all. In fact, I really don't mind helping the bartender while I'm down here."

"Ah, that's very noble of you, but…" he leaned back against the counter directly across from MC, now partially blocking the cabinet. "You don't owe her anything, right?"

MC internally rolled their eyes. They knew exactly where that lecture was going. The Cost of Things in Eridia. Perhaps this was his way of reminding them of their own unspecified outstanding-balance.

That inevitable step forward was about to be taken, but MC wanted to be the first to move. There was something they wanted from him, but they need to ensure that is did not come with a price tag.

"Not exactly, but since we're on the topic, I have found myself indebted to a... friend." They smirked at down at the slow and methodical circles of the rag as they dried the last wine glass, circumventing his prepared lecture.

"Oh?" he sounded genuinely curious, eyes drawn to the gentle movements of their bandaged hands. He watched they way they delicately held the stem of the glass, turning it over in the light, looking for imperfections.

"Promise not to tell anyone but…" They approached the cabinet. He barely stepped aside for them to set it into place. "It's a guy. He's been so helpful and kind to me, but he hasn't asked for much in return," they spoke slowly, waiting for Leander's jealously to take the bait.

"So I've been thinking about how nothing in this life is free, you know? Eventually, I am going to have to pay him back. Even you tell me that nothing is free in Eridia." They pointed out.

Leander wasn't smiling anymore. He leaned forward to hear them better through the noise of the establishment. MC set their rag down and turned to face him, resting their hip against the counter, and regarded him as he became quite serious.

"…you haven't made some kind of deal with this guy yet, have you?" His brow creased ever so slightly. "If you need help, you know I'm here for you, right?" His free hand came to rest at their hip, anxiously ensuring that they remain facing him.

Whether he realized it or not, his possessive nature had recently developed into a obvious display of envy for their attention. Last week Vere had pointed this out to MC, inclusive of a short but obvious warning.

MC was very aware of Leander's jealousy. That was not the problem here. The problem was their own recently budding envy whenever he stepped out for a quick hook-up, leaving them behind.

Waiting for him.

Ais was seemingly the only regular who took notice fofthis more recent development. His advice was… well it less eloquent than Vere's, but he was right nonetheless. MC needed to do something about it already.

They took the first metaphorical step forward.

"Oh no, don't worry. It's not a situation that I can't handle," they reassured him. "But I'm not so naive as to think that he truly has no ulterior reason to share his resources or time with me." MC placed their hand over the one he still had on their hip, and smiled up at him before letting it go. "I also know that we both have our own sort of needs, so to speak. I'm very eager to tell him all of my thoughts on the matter."

His expression flinched and he cocked his head to the side, finally starting to catching on to who this "friend" might be.

"Oh?" the sound came out a lot lower than he probably meant it to. As if to compensate, his hand relaxed from their side, placing it on the counter beside them. He set his drink down and gave them his full attention, deciding to play along with their bashful elusion.

"What exactly is it that you want him to know?"

"Well, with friends, these kind of things are usually as simple as give and take. With strangers, though? Debts are just transactions waiting to be completed. He's not a stranger, and I don't want him to be," they punctuated that last sentence by playfully turning their head the opposite way of his. Challenging him. "So what I'm trying to figure out, is exactly how I can adequately return the favors, as a friend."

MC gazed up into Leander's calm face as they both took the moment to observe each other's body language. His eyes squinted, studying them, savoring the words, collecting his thoughts.

"…and you're going to pay him back...by running up a tab in his name?" A smirk finally broke free from beneath the mask, clearly amused.

MC laughed and waved their hand in the air to dispel the concern.

"I promise there's no tab, I really did get permission from the bartender-" Leander gingerly grabbed their wrapped up hand mid-air.

"Did you have something specific in mind for evening the odds with this friend?" He Interrupted their rambling. He'd been waiting for this very conversation about debts and repayments, and needed them to stay focused. What he didn't understand, though, was this new commentary on friendship, and why they were beating around the bush about it?

He intertwined his fingers with their own, hoping to ease some of their nervousness. Generally, he really did try to make an effort to not to scare them off. A hearty blush bloomed across MC's cheeks, much to Leander's pleasure.

"Well?" He gently urged. MC thought carefully about their next move, not wanting to waste their precious moment of leverage.

"Well. I guess it depends," MC drawled out, slowly reaching for the drink Leander had abandoned. It was right next to them on the counter, so they made sure to brush their arm against him as they reached for it, and then again as they brought the drink it in. They felt the toned muscles in his arm and torso stiffen at the contact. His icy eyes shot up to theirs, questioning the less-than-subtle touches.

"Depends… on what?" He cautioned.

MC brought his glass up to their face, but instead of taking a sip they parted their lips and just barely exposed their soft tongue to kiss at the condensation from the side of the glass he'd sipped from. They felt the moisture wet their lips as the missed dots slid down the glass, catching on their clothed fingers. It had hints of the same berry concoction he first served them weeks ago. They held his icy gaze as his unrestrained hand gripped the counter at the side of their waist, fingernails digging into the wood. His intertwined hand shook a little in their own.

They literally had him in the palms of their hands.

All the light bulbs suddenly went off over Leander's head, and he was not prepared for the sudden, blinding illumination. They had completely caught him off-guard for once. He almost resented the pride welling up in him. His eyes were wide, he held his breath and waited for their next move.

"I guess it depends on what I have to offer. If I'm being realistic, it will probably be some random errands around town." They shrugged, instantly changing their tone and posture to something far more casual, despite being boxed in very close to Leander's warm body. Their demeanor changed as though he wasn't even there. "Maybe delivering a few messages or something equally as boring. I most certainly wouldn't want to wager anything that I couldn't take back as simply transactional." They gave his nervous hand a firm squeeze.

MC watched as his face shifted from confusion, then to shock, and finally settled on disappointment. He looked down at the floor, hummed in admission, and begrudgingly let go of their hand.

"That is understandable," he acknowledged. "You friend would do right to respect you for that decision."

"Mhm, and I feel lucky because I know that he will." They smiled to him, and he returned it with a polite, but sad one.

Was MC always capable of being that cruel? Couldn't they have simply turned him down outright? Why even bother ruffling his feathers like that...?

"So, you want to run errands for him?" He tried to shove the disappointment and confusion down. He would just have to respect their wishes.

"Sure, I don't mind repaying his favors in that way. As long as he understands that the sex is strictly for fun."

Leander choked hard when his breath caught in his throat.

Pleased at his shocked reaction, MC closed their eyes and tasted the actual drink this time. It was indeed exactly the same kind he had once served them all those nights ago.

"Mm, there's nothing quite like the sweetness after the burn," they murmured, licking the residue from their teeth.

When they opened their eyes again, Leander was standing straight and rigid. He was stunned! The nerve of them!!

He wrenched the drink from their grasp and raised it up, tossing the entire thing back in one smooth movement. His slow, steady gulps were expertly practiced from years of living his reckless lifestyle.

MC silently prayed that he wasn't angry, and that they had played their cards just right, dealing him a satisfactory taste of his own lascivious medicine.

Leander sighed after reaching the bottom of the glass.

So that's their play, he thought to himself. He could work with this.

"Is that all?" He grinned like a fox as he set the empty container down, recovering from his surprise. Thank the gods he wasn't put off, but now MC worried for what his response was going be.

"So, you want to keep your work separate from your fun, as a friend?" He summarized.

"Only if he's interested." They felt bold enough to readjust their footing to square him up. His chest completely obscured their vision of the open room that lay out behind him. All they could see now was him, and they were grateful that his broad body obscured their own from potential onlookers at this angle.

On his face, he wore what was quite possibly the cockiest grin they had ever seen. MC couldn't help but shiver under the intensity of his piercing gaze. His eyes sparkled an incandescent green, the only indication that he was preparing himself for extended contact with their curse.

Everything that happened next went much faster than they could have expected it to.

His arm snaked around their lower back, slowly pressing a large hand into the base of their spine. This caused them to slightly arch forward, eliciting a small gasp. He bowed deep, bringing his face almost cheek to cheek beside theirs to murmur into their ear, in a voice low enough that not even Vere's monster ears could have picked up the sound. There was barely a breath of space left between them.

"I think he's very interested." He all but purred, with an uncharacteristically low rumbling that spilled forth from deep within his chest. MC sucked in a sharp breath on reflex and braced their hands against his chest. They squeezed their eyes shut as a dizzying wave of flutters nearly swept them away. He chuckled at their adorable reaction.

They stood like that for a moment. MC felt the chills that ran down their spine melt into a new heat, pooling beneath Leander's hand that was laying flush against their sensitive muscles. MC suddenly realized that he likely had tricks up his sleeve they didn't even know existed.

He took the last half-step forward, and MC instinctively moved backwards, unintentionally pressing their rear into the counter to make space that didn't exist. They accidentally trapped his hand in place by doing so.

The sandwiched position left only a small opening for their face to rest in the crook of his neck. They completely melted into his frame as his grip on the small of their back deepened. He hummed in approval of their nuzzling.

MC would have been embarrassed to death about the public display of lust if they were even capable of producing a single coherent thought in that moment. They were too overwhelmed with reveling in their own self-satisfaction to notice that Leander's other hand was reaching for the other key on his belt.

"What do you say to that?" He purred, the vibrations passing through his body and into MC's, rattling them to the core.

Their breath was hot and sweet, fanning across his neck and mixing with the scent of his body. It was syrupy but sharp, just like his drink. Just like him.

"I hope you don't keep me waiting too long." They whispered.

[welcome-to-green-hills]

Spit-Ball Headcanon Time... Maybe...

This is a little thought of mine, maybe a bit of a fan-theory now that I think bout it. I've been thinking about how the first, second, and third movies could combine into one massive web of SCU lore. Here’s my thought; I believe that Longclaw and a Robotnik (hopefully Gerald Robotnik) potentially knew each other. Potentially. And if they knew each other in passing, then it opens up the ability for other intergalactic aliens to be introduced into SCU canon. Not only that, but these extra-terrestrial interactions helped further Dr. Robotnik's need to capture Sonic for his own personal use in the first movie, as well as inspire him to continue tinkering on the movie's version of the Death Egg Robot via chaos energy. And this is all true, then it might explain some of the bizarre history of Green Hills, Montana.

I'm a big advocate in reading the novels for the movies (Book 1 and Book 2). There's some information present in the books that weren't present in the films. In the first novel, it states that Longclaw is very familiar with Earth. She's actually visited Earth a few times and has observed the humans (PG. 12 & 13). This also leads us to believe that she might have known some of the humans in order to describe them as "power hungry, self-centered." But she makes up for it in saying that it's a safe haven for Sonic to grow up on as long as he stays hidden. With this in mind, as well as informing Sonic that her people have left temples with the Master Emerald all around Earth, it explains why she was okay with leaving him on the foreign planet. Even with this tidbit of information, it shows that she might have known someone in order to give that impression of humans.

I believe that this is Gerald Robotnik. 100%.

Concept art for Sonic the Hedgehog 2 (2022) shows that Gerald Robotnik IS a character for SCU. This was conformed by Tyson Hesse, concept artist and one of the producers for the films on Twitter (SOURCE). The concept artwork shows that the writing on the walls is the same plans used in SA 2. Even so, writers Pat Casey and Josh Miller explained that heavy influence of SA 2 and ShTH 2005 will be used in the third film (SOURCE). This could mean that Gerald's deal made with numerous people and an extra-terrestrial alien overlord COULD be canon to the films. This could also mean that the quest for immortality and a cure for Maria Robotnik will be Gerald's motive. With this information in mind, it opens up a potential relationship with Longclaw.

This relationship is formed as she comes to Earth to check on the temples and with Gerald Robotnik on his quest to achieve immortality. Longclaw knew that Earth had several temples for the Master Emerald. It would be part of her duty, as a guardian, to protect and keep tabs on them at all times. I strongly believe that way before Sonic was taken in by Longclaw, way before Sonic was born, she knew Gerald and they both shared information. In game canon, it's stated that Shadow the Hedgehog is created with connection to the Chaos Emeralds. In the movies, the Chaos Emeralds are in the Master Emerald (it's now it's own separate emerald). If Longclaw shared information of both the Master Emerald and the Chaos Emeralds to Gerald Robotnik, then it would explain the chaos-like energy that we see emitting from Shadow in the second movie's post-credit scene.

Note that the Echidna tribe are located in SCU’s equivalent to Mystic Ruins. The background structure of where the tribe's huts are is the temple in Sonic Adventure 1 AND in Sonic the Hedgehog 3 (1993). And a massive popular fan theory is that the reason why Shadow looks the way that he is that Gerald Robotnik saw this temple mural fighting a god. Gerald Robotnik took it upon himself to create an artificial chaos energy. He created Shadow with the mindset of having connections to the emeralds as well. Interaction with Longclaw and Gerald Robotnik stopped because she felt that he would be after the power that came from the emeralds, thus leaning him to try and replicate it on his own. And if he could try and replicate the emeralds, then he could try and find a cure.

If Longclaw and Gerald Robotnik knew each other, then it's quite possible that Gerald had knowledge of other aliens existing. And if he was able to replicate chaos-like energy, that would open up the possibility of the Black Arms aliens coming in Sonic 3. He could form an alliance with them and further his research on immortality. Not only that, this would give a means for the United States government to get involved and shut down Project: Shadow entirely. This would explain why Project: Shadow was hidden in government archives, as well as General Walter's eagerness to want to create Guardian Units of the Nation (G.U.N.) in Sonic 2. This would also explain Dr. Robotnik's desire to capture Sonic and drain his power-source from him in the first movie. That, and it explains some of Dr. Robotnik's plans for the Death Egg Mech--he had some understanding of chaos power before hand. I argue this because Dr. Robotnik's response to Knuckles' statement on the Master Emerald is an “ah-ha” moment rather than a new concept. Dr. Robotnik had an idea that chaos power existed from his grandfather, Gerald Robotnik. He wanted that power.

It's no surprise that Green Hills, Montana is kind of a funky place. Other than it holding the only Olive Garden restaurant in the entire state, it has some pretty interesting history to it. Since the 1800's, Green Hills is originally known as an agricultural hot spot AND a massive hub for imported goods for the railroad system. All of this information is displayed on historical plaques seen throughout town. This is especially evident on Main Street where we seen the railroad tracks. What we've neglected to point out is that the historical plaques also state that the town has a rich history of being a military town. This information also states that it was a military town for a short amount of time in the mid-20th century, then quickly reverted back into an agricultural town.

I will make the bold claim in saying that Green Hills, Montana has something to do with Shadow's creation. Not only that, but those that were involved with Shadow's creation--or even shutting down the project--potentially had something to do with Green Hills. And to make sure that the project stayed quiet, the USA government had someone stay and make sure that none of that information was uncovered... thus making the statement, "there's been a Wachowski protecting this town for more than 50 years" crucial.

But I hear you questions. I hear saying that there's still loose ends to this fan-theory, especially the parts where Sonic's existence comes in and why so many people are after the emeralds in the first place. Why do some characters have chaos powers and some don't? Why does it feel like Knuckles is afraid of Sonic when he goes Super Sonic? How do present-day Dr. Robotnik and General Walters continue to tie into this?

All I can say is that we'll just have to wait into Sonic the Hedgehog 3 comes out in 2024.

This is just a headcanon/my thought. I’ll add more to it when I’m not so tired.

[possessedpasm]

sorry if this question sucks. do you have any wisdom on how to keep going. maybe even specifically as an artist. i cannot keep any hope. dont feel too pressured. im just desperate for answers. and i love your art.

Hey, it's ok :} I'm glad you reached out-- This is definitely not an easy thing to ask, but I'll try my best here

Personally, the things that keep me going aren't gonna be very grand or deep to everyone, but I don't think that there Has to be any deeper meaning or point in the things that help uplift you...

With art, I've come to love and appreciate imperfections in the things I see and do. Like, uh, my art is Super sloppy sometimes, or i don't like my anatomy, or I could go on... but does that make it any less valuable to me? It's part of me. The same goes for other people. However small or seemingly meaningless something they make may be passed off as. They still made something from a part of themself. And with each imperfection they may see, I see something unique and beautiful and human! I love it :} and like... people are still creating art, 10's of thousands of years later. Like. We haven't stopped. Nothing can stop us. It's inherent. Reflecting on it is kinda mind-blowing...

(And as a "Thing I Learned" side note: I feel we're often told we need to have A Big motivating factor behind the things we do in life (for me, the thing I do is make art). Usually, those motivators include but are not limited to: Being A Success, Having A Larger Purpose In Life (tm), Proving Yourself, ect ect... and I've kinda had to let that go, as scary as it may sound. I let go of the notion of Needing to be A Success (tm) because what are the limits of success? Where do they end? Begin? It's arbitrary. And it drove me into a corner. We make those lines ourselves, lest society do it for us (god forbid.) I took the time and found what makes me happy, and do those things instead of focusing so hard on what other people expect of me. It's a slow process, but it's paid off emotionally)

I know you will find something that creates a spark in you, eventually. That goes for anyone else reading this feeling similarly. Hope (for anything) is something that grows, and growth takes time. So be patient and kind to yourself as you grow, or re-grow. Think of yourself as a little plant... would you be mean to a little plant? I hope not

[miicycle]

Leo insisting that he and Donnie are twins is basically just him desperately seeking value in his existence as a whole. (Obv just headcanon and way more in depth under the cut)

Consider this:

Leo is consistently shown to be insecure about his role in the family. Everyone has their special thing and special place.

Raph is the oldest, strongest and thus a protector. He is also appointed leader and definitely helped support and care for his younger brothers the way an oldest siblings would.

Donnie is the smartest (funniest to splinter) and most tech savvy, making sure to create for his family all the time every time. (Donnie pods to save his family, security system to keep his family safe, Shelldon to make his family's life easier, arcade to make sure his family has fun, battle shells that work along with his family as well etc etc).

Mikey is the youngest and the most optimistic, the most wild ninpo and the most artistically creative. He makes everything lively and fun. Not to mention a complete hypeman. He is literal hope incarnate.

But Leo?

He's the second oldest.

He talks a lot.

He makes jokes that rarely land.

He makes himself out to be big when he feels oh so small compared to his siblings.

He reads comics and knows a lot about Jupiter Jim.

He has faulty portalling skills.

Add the whole movie debacle and Leo is the perfect muse for people who feel as if they are insignificant and replaceable.

He feels small. He's no one's "funniest". He's no one's go to for support or for joy the way Raph and Mikey are. He's no one's specific skill that aids and consistently helps the way Donnie is. He's no one's hope, strength, skill or support.

Of course he'd latch onto the idea of being a twin in the family. Something other than just a brother, another son, another friend. He's Donnie's TWIN. That's big! He gets to be considered essential in a way because if one is gone, there are no "twins". Leo gets a proper "role" in the family.

This is all because he never truly gets the chance to grow into the fact that he is so incredibly perceptive, intelligent and quick. Leo understands and knows his family like the back of his hand, and thus can utalize all their skills to make the best of a situation and knows exactly what to say to motivate and encourage them. He makes up strategies and ideas on the spot to throw people off and sweet talk his way through any trouble and any obstacle.

When his ego is dampened, he makes the plans that never fail. But he never truly gets to grow until he's put in charge because he knows how to play the game to win, he just chooses to goof off because he believes he's not a valuable asset.

But being twins with his closest brother? That's big!! Especially when Donnie slips up in speech or behaviour that proves that he isn't at all against the idea. That makes Leo essential.

Because if one is gone? There are no "twins."

(You don't need to do something special or be something special to deserve love and care because you're valued for YOU. Not what you DO! Leo doesn't need to prove himself to be worthy in the eyes of his family. Of course he doesn't feel that way though.)

[cherubchoirs]

ok but in seriousness. i wasn't feeling too good tonight bc of some things going on rn, but all that just reminded me what a good year i've had in this community. the people here are so kind and i'm so grateful that despite a very difficult shyness, you all continue to talk with me and enjoy my ideas with me, that keeps me excited and you all motivate me so much. the artists/writers i get to share this space with too have incredible passion and such phenomenal creativity that i'm inspired every day to create at my best too. i could say a whole lot about ultrakill itself, how genuinely fantastic i find its world, its gameplay, its characters, and how incredibly excited i am for its final act whenever it comes, but suffice to say i really found a piece of media that resonates with me in a unique and wonderful way and i'm so happy i was able to find it through pure serendipity. i know this is sappy and all, but i'm very happy here, and i've seen my art grow so much more in this last year because of this game and all the people enjoying it with me. so!! thank you all. thank you for all the sweet messages, kind tags, and for being so patient with me always even though i am shy. it all means the world to me :]

[laurrelise]

me when i meet someone for the first time and i want to say:

“have you ever watched the umbrella academy? it’s a great show, you really should. it’s about a dysfunctional family of childhood superheroes who underwent serious trauma from their emotionally absent father and grow up to be insanely dynamic and interesting individuals who have to save the world but just keep failing over and over. my favorite character is five, a 58 year-old man in the body of his 13 year-old self who can teleport and time travel but got it wrong the first time and had to survive for over 40 years as the last living human in an apocalyptic wasteland before being recruited by an organization that exists outside of time that keeps the space-time continuum in harmony with itself to become the most lethal assassin known to man for not only his learned talents but also his superhuman abilities. he cares about his family more than anything and sacrificed just about everything he’s ever had to save them time and time again to go under-appreciated by everyone around him. he has a witty charm to him, but just about zero social skills due to several decades which he spent alone but is so extremely smart that at times it’s even difficult to conceptualize just what spending time inside his brain would entail. i find his character so complex and interesting that i’m sure if motivated, i could write several essays on each of his arcs, virtues, and traits. the show is also very loved, especially by myself, due to its beautifully selected soundtrack with some of my favorite songs and such beautiful vocals from artists all throughout time including some of the cast members from the show itself. i especially love ‘stormy weather’ covered and recorded by emmy raver-lampman, featured in season one episode eight, as her character, allison hargreeves, drives through a rainstorm to help save her sister while she thinks about how her entire life has been a lie due to the curse that her abilities inevitably cast upon her. the song gives me chills every time i hear it, from its beautiful vintage-string sound to emmy’s phenomenal vocals, it’s truly an underrated classic that i believe should be talked about so much more. i also love ‘stay with me’, covered and recorded by mary j. blige, also featured in season one episode eight, as her character cha-cha, a ruthless time-traveling hitwoman, seeks unfair revenge on her work partner who chose humanity to go live out his last days with the love of his life. both of these songs push the limits of the musical talent and power these women hold. i could truly go on about the show for hours, but i absolutely can’t recommend it enough. the first two seasons are some of my favorite pieces of film i’ve ever had the pleasure of enjoying, as even though the show isn’t artistically-shot or critically acclaimed, it’s so well-written, produced, and acted that it creates a spark of excitement deep within me that my words simply can’t describe.”

… but i have to say “hi, i’m lauren. nice to meet you.”