#My Horsie Comic

[andresin-commissionsopen]

Be nice......

[fluttersharpi]

So I went to Chili’s yesterday.. 🦋🧱🍔

[kilowogcore]

I ain't no chess master or nothin', but I'm pretty sure only rank amateurs'd end up with that setup. Assumin' the piece in Batman's hand (which looks like a knight ta me) is still in play, it's still an inevitable draw.

Chess nerds, feel free ta' correct me if I'm wrong!

Don't get me wrong, it's a beautiful cover, but it's like havin' a wrong equation on the blackboard in a classroom scene!

(Art sampled from "Batman/Superman: World's Finest" Vol. 1 #15 variant cover by Walt Simonson and Michael Atiyeh)

[fidgetspringer]

Making the rounds.

[chewymoo-art]

‘Centaurs’ in our second collaborative class zine!

This piece turned out a lot bigger than anticipated, but I knew I wanted to make it as lush as possible. Also, the color palette we were given to make the zine more cohesive was so lovely. We didn’t get this one printed by the end of the semester but hopefully we’ll also get to sell it at MoCCA Fest in the spring along with ‘Animal Companions.’

[monty-glasses-roxy]

Ya know, current setups are real fun, but I've been playing horse games again lately and I've noticed some things...

If Roxy were to find the horses in storage and decide to keep them as her own, her only knowledge of horses up to that point would be horse games. I'm trying to think about the other ones I've played because I can't say I ever really looked for accuracy before, but depending on the games, Roxy would have a surprisingly hard time with this.

To my memory, none of them have the saddle positioned correctly. I don't remember any that used martingales or chest plates which some of the Plex horsies have. Horse games are designed in such a way that you can visibly see where the budget and time was put in, meaning you have some games that tell you a little about what you're doing, and some that are very detailed about certain aspects of horse care, but completely fuck up the rest of it. It's fascinating to me.

If Roxy played Bella Sara for example, she would know you can't ride until you've cared for your horse, but she wouldn't know about any sports outside of show jumping. If she played Pony Friends, she would know about trail riding, that racing is a thing and that horses get sick if not cared for properly, but may not understand that you can't ride a sick horse. Sick horses aren't really relevant here, but you see my point.

Like the standard sports tend to be show jumping, cross country and the chronically under-explained dressage games. They also all have a mechanic for brushing the horse and cleaning the hooves out, with most of them having you clean out the stable too. BUT none of them are consistent outside of that. So even if she played a bunch of them, she's not going to know what she's doing at all

Brushing and combing is straight forward enough. There's a method to doing hooves and stuff she'd not know but if she can figure out how to lift their foot up, she'll be fine. She may also know about leg wraps from some games and would find it pretty easy to do simple hairstyles with them, though the tail would be a bit harder.

But that saddle is not staying on that horse. She may get a basic bridle right but probably doesn't know what the bit is. The horses are literally built to help in teaching this stuff and they're struggling trying to find ways to help her but they're fucking horses man. What are they gonna do? All they can do is kinda give her a nudge, make loud noises, move out the way, steal shit and bite her. The Minis are trying to help but they also don't know what they're doing at all so that's not working either

The absolute relief when Roxy finds Foxy's bird and reactivates her. They've never been so excited to see a duck before. Things get easier at least, but lack of information is only part of the issue for Roxy so uhh... Yeah it's not the biggest improvement ever, but hey! At least the saddle's staying on this time!

[fraidycat-art]

[love-killed-the-superstar]

heeeey buddy, whatcha reading there?

[horsewizardart]

ATTENTION EFNW GOERS

a few months ago my buddy @mellodillo rounded up a gang of pony artists to put together a lil comics zine featuring those famous cartoon horsies, and they’ll be selling it at Everfree Northwest!! there’s a lot of good stuff in this book, so if you’re going be sure to check it out!!

psst also in the meantime check out all the cool people who contributed to this thing they are all big-brain geniuses and they make Good Stuff @astroeden @balileart @batshaped @kyssimmee @manicpanda-art @mellodillo @punkitt-is-here

[calissarowan]

Winx Fairy Blog

So, I don’t know how many people have actually read the Winx Club Comic series, but I’d like to (very sarcastically) summarise a season seven comic that ‘finishes’ the Wizards of the Black Circle’s ‘arc’ in the comic series. Issue 145: ‘Winx Fairy Blog’. I’m gonna put in a keep reading link, since this is gonna be long.

So, the Winx all have blogs now, because they do everything the others do, and everyone’s blogs make sense, except Bloom’s where they’ve reverted her back to being an artist, since they realised you can’t have a blog about how to get everyone else’s screen time. And they’re being interviewed by a news reporter, who’s talking to them about their blogs about accessories and doodling rather than the numerous times they’ve saved the world. They’re in the Winx’s Gardenia apartment, because, unlike the show, the comics do remember this exists.

The reporter talks to the Winx, but mostly Bloom, who, despite not having been an artist for six seasons, is now so good at art that her drawing lessons make her the queen of the web, so even the web is now about Bloom. Great. They ask for a demonstration, so Bloom takes Tecna’s smartphone, starts painting it, comes out with something dreadful, tries to brush it off, before breaking the smartphone. Tecna’s mad for a second, then remembers Bloom’s the protagonist, so nobody’s allowed to say she’s done anything wrong, so she tries to fix the phone, but it’s apparently much harder than she thought, and all her technical knowledge has just vanished from her brain.

The other girls lose their talents: Musa can’t play music, Stella apparently recommended a bad outfit on her blog, Flora can’t feel a connection with nature, and Aisha…Aisha can’t stand. Her talent is apparently linked to movement and exercise, so when she loses it, she can’t freakin’ walk. Bloom can’t draw a smartphone, and Aisha can’t stand. Wow.

Musa says they’ve all lost the spark that makes them unique (not sure fashion advice or drawing made them unique; I’d say that honour goes to their personalities, but what do I know?), and Bloom says to remain calm and find out why.

Tecna uses her computer to find a techno-magic virus corrupting their blogs, because she apparently kept plot-convenient technical knowledge. Thank god the plot gods continue to smile on the Winx. The virus corrupted their blogs to steal their talents, so now Bloom is just going to have to live without her art skills, so presumably nothing changes from the last six seasons, and I guess Aisha can’t move now, but let’s be sure to worry about Bloom, because we’ve mentioned Aisha, so we’ve given her enough attention.

Then there’s…a random golem. Just walking down the street. Roaring. The news reporter tries to chase it for the story, gets roared at and Musa says to get out of there, and Bloom tells Flora to stop the golem with her vines, which she can’t, because she’s lost her connection with nature, because it’s been over a season since she got the inextinguishable power of the Dragon Flame, meaning she can’t lose her powers; this is season seven, we’re doing Butterflix. Bloomix has been relegated to the bin of irrelevance along with Roxy and continuity.

The golem tries to crush Aisha, and Aisha can’t move away, because this virus has taken all her energy, so it’s less like a talent-stealing spell, and more like a deadly curse, but Stella grabs her and pulls her aside and then we have to get back to Bloom, who says that without their talents, their magic has faded, because apparently the ability to wield the source of all life in the universe is directly tied to one’s ability to draw a horsie.

And then, the saviours of the universe, the legendary Winx that have faced witches and demons and monsters oh my! …Run away. Great.

Musa says the energy of the monster is familiar, like they’ve faced it before, Bloom says they need to remember how to defeat him, and that, having lost their talents, they can’t attack him individually, but maybe, if they transform into Butterflix, the power with nothing to do with the situation, they can defeat him together, and they overcome the problem by using the most generic, uniform transformation they’ve got, and, through a generic convergence, they defeat the golem with the power of conformity! Huzzah!

Bloom says they need to get their talents back, because she got confused and thought she was in World of Winx instead, and, thank God, Tecna says they only need wait a few seconds, because they’re too close to the end of the comic for any kind of creative solution, and they already did a convergence, so now the plot gods have decreed that the virus corrupting their blogs will disappear. Tecna, despite having lost all her technical knowledge, apparently carries a user manual for her tablet everywhere, because she’s using that just fine.

Flora asks if the golem was responsible for the virus, because it’s a typical random golem move, but Tecna says no, it was just a pawn controlled by someone else, like a big, yellow version of the Trix after season one, and she says it’s probably controlled by the same person who played that nasty trick on them. I mean, Aisha couldn’t walk, and you all almost died because of the spell, so less of a nasty trick and more an attempt to kill you all, but let’s keep things light and casual.

Bloom says they need to find out their identity as fast as possible, so they of course subsequently do nothing; maybe they go back to the loft and say ‘Hey, Google! Who corrupted our blogs?’ and when they do, and Google has no idea, they shrug and go, ‘Eh, well, we tried.’ They’re very busy making sure the return of their talents doesn’t compromise their delicate hivemind, so they haven’t got much time to launch an in-depth investigation.

Then, we cut to Solaria! The perfect random end to a random adventure! We go to the dungeons, where our world is rocked as we realise that past villains do actually still exist, and we see the Wizards of the Black Circle! Ogron is just casually summoning some random blue lightning or something, which the guards just…ignore, I guess. Maybe they think he got a flashlight.

Anyway, Ogron helpfully reveals that his techno-magic incantation only had a temporary effect (thanks for the exposition, Ogron. What would we do without you monologuing?), because apparently he has…techno-magic powers. Okay, well, you know what, he did send them into Tecna’s videogame in season four, so yeah, we can say this is canon. He says its temporary effect is a sign their magic energy has not yet fully returned, and thankfully nobody on Solaria thought to fit them with some magical dampeners or something, because these villains are from three seasons ago, so nobody cares; they gotta get ready for the Trix coming back for the ten-millionth time.

Gantlos says it’s a shame his golem was also defeated, because he can summon golems now, using a power he hasn’t used before for reasons known only to him, but I have reason to believe it’s that mysterious force known as ‘plot convenience’. Despite having been complaining about his own failings just seconds prior, Ogron tells Gantlos to never mind, and basically shut up about his golem, and Gantlos says they’ve tested their powers and now they know they can beat the Winx (are you crazy? They just obliterated your golem), before Ogron asks Anagan if he’s amassed enough energy to get them out, because apparently he was conserving his new magic while Ogron and Gantlos had a fighting the Winx blowout, and Anagan gets them out in that most magical of ways: ripping the door off its hinges. I thought Gantlos was the one with super strength, but I also thought he couldn’t summon golems, so I’ve got no idea what’s happening anymore.

Ogron says they’ll take their revenge on the Winx once and for all, because revenge has been their friend so far, and of course, they don’t. That, or Ogron takes such subtle revenge that nobody notices, which seems pointless, but he had a plan that was undone by kibble, so who knows what’s going on in his head?

They presumably get out of the dungeons, though I’d love to know what the guards are doing while they’re ripping doors off hinges. Also, guys, great security. Really top-notch! Maybe the guards do come, and the wizards realise they should have conserved their magic, rather than taking away Stella’s fashion sense, since now they’ve gotta fight guards, and the guards just cuff them and put them in a more secure cell. That’d explain why they didn’t show up again. They orchestrated the worst jailbreak ever.

Thanks to anyone still reading all the way down here! I hope you enjoyed my (very sarcastic) summary!

[andresin-commissionsopen]

Not lesbian behavior

[theplumsoldier]

aftermath 6

summary: a supply run, a dinosaur exhibit, and an old friend

pairing: joel miller x reader

word count: 4,2k

warnings: vulgar language, companion feelz (horsie), mutual pining, slow burn, horny thoughts. pls let me know if i missed any <3<3

series: aftermath [5] + series masterlist

Ellie had finished her comic book and was bored out of her mind. Joel was cleaning guns in the kitchen, sat on the side of the kitchen table that allowed him to keep an eye on you and Ellie.

She was mindlessly throwing pieces of her granola bar at you as a release of her boredom, but it ended up a competition instead, practicing her aim by shooting for your half-open mouth.

With a nut hitting hard down on your eyelid, you stirred awake, ruining her little game.

"Ellie—what'd I tell you?" Joel barked harshly, the chair legs screeching against the floor as he stood up abruptly.

Ellie paid him no mind, instead waiting for you to rub the sleep out of your eyes.

"You been throwing granola at me?" you asked, puzzled to find traces of nutrition in your hair, mouth, and cleavage.

"Yeah," she grinned cheekily, snorting as she noticed you began chewing the ones she had managed to get in your mouth.

She helped you clean up the crumbs from the couch and blanket, and you said: "It's good to see you, Ellie."

You felt a bit lightheaded from the morphine, but coming to your senses you remembered falling fast asleep on the couch. You hadn't done anything to get comfortable, yet there was a blanket keeping your body warm and a pillow on the armrest.

Looking up, you noticed Joel. Warmth spread up from your chest to your neck.

He smiled down at you and chuckled, "ya dozed right off there, didn't you?"

It was clear he was merely teasing, but you looked down sheepishly, feeling your heartbeat intensify at his voice. You hated the effect he had on you but loved the feeling of it spreading in your body. It made you feel warm and safe.

"Ellie, why don't you show her the guestroom?"

She stands up and waits for you to do the same, nodding you in the direction of the room. You are still weary and have to find your balance as you follow her, wiping the sleep from your eyes. You thought of smiling at Joel as you walked away from his sight but decided against it, your cheeks heating up at the mere thought of looking at him.

Ellie's hands clasped against her sides, watching you as you looked around from the doorway.

The room was the size of your childhood bedroom, with walls painted a dark blue. There was a bed in the corner, a small side table, and a chair in flower-adorned fabric, but the room's current use was clearly for storage purposes.

"So... y'know how long you're gonna be staying?"

You could hear the springs squeak as you sat down on the bed, feeling the plushy comforter on the palms of your hands.

Ellie stood slumped against the wall, hands shoved halfway down her pockets. Her mouth formed a thin line, she looked to be chewing on the inside of her cheek, and you realized your muteness made her feel uncomfortable.

"I don't know," you finally answered, your voice barely above a whisper. You cleared your throat and looked away from her. "My house burned down."

"Oh shit!" Ellie reacted. If you had looked up at her you would have seen the traces of guilt, as if she had been responsible for your situation. "How'd that happen?"

The question sparked something from your memory and you winced from your recollection. The days after the incident, the days hiking through the woodland to reach Jackson had been worse on you than the fight with the Infected, though that pain had been nothing compared to the intense despair you felt over losing your home.

As much as you would like to, you couldn't blame the curious teenager.

You moved to make room for Ellie to sit beside you. She took the hint but sat on the furthest reach of the bouncy mattress, and you wondered if she was aware of your general discomfort with close proximity, or if she was, in fact, hesitant to get too close to you. When she looked at you with those deerlike brown eyes, you decided she had made a conscious choice to respect your personal space. You found yourself liking her a bit more for that.

"On the same day you left, an infected found me. Stumbled right into the fireplace, caught a curtain on fire and before I knew it there were too many flames to put out."

Ellie made a low whistling sound.

"Shit," she murmured.

You cleared your throat once more. "Shit indeed. So I don't really know how long I'll be here, but if there's room for me here in Jackson, I should probably make it a home for myself," you said despondently.

But you didn't want Jackson to be your new home. You wanted your burnt-down house in the woods back. You wondered if there was anything salvageable left, something to hike back for.

Shaking your head at your thoughts, you decided it best left alone. For now, at least, there was not much to do about it. You were in no condition to travel anywhere, you knew that, but you couldn't help but wonder whether anything was left or if all was reduced to ashes.

You would have liked to have brought some weed, perhaps some to plant, but despite your addiction, it had not been your priority then.

Now, it felt like a rookie mistake.

You sighed and stood up with a hearty breath. You ought to be grateful, you thought. If Joel hadn't left that map for you, you wouldn't have made it far, traveling on infection and faltering hope.

Ellie tried to comfort you. "They were eager to have us here, I'm sure they'll be fine making room for a plus-one."

You could only hope so.

Two weeks went by like a passing breeze. Besides eating and sleeping, you hadn't done much of anything, and as you slowly recuperated, you became restless—a result of feeling all the pain at once and then nothing at all.

The painkillers were addicting and you decided to stop taking them before rebranding a bad habit, leaving you to feel every ounce of physical pain.

Everything felt weird; not odd or mysterious, just plain old weird.

You came to learn that Ellie was much more timid than you had initially thought. She was prone to mood swings, which you supposed was normal for her age, but sometimes she would lash out at Joel, give him the cold shoulder as if she suddenly remembered she was mad at him.

However, Ellie's behavior was not the weirdest thing. No, what was weird was the way you got along with them so well. You couldn't find a single thing to complain about. It seemed as if the mere warmth in the home helped you thaw out of your cold exterior. It even made you believe you were not so bad in social settings after all, but when you suppressed your anxiety and finally worked up the courage to speak to someone, make a witty comment as had become part of your banter with Joel and Ellie, it wasn't well received. Perhaps it was a bad joke, wrong crowd, really—it could be any number of reasons, you rationalized. Regardless of the failed interaction, you wouldn't shy away from one blow. After all, you never managed to hone the ability to back down from a fight.

At one point, Ellie observed yet another interaction with your designated victims, a couple of women in the fruit stall. She ditched her friend to rescue you from the sorry situation and decided to help you out.

Looking back, that was probably the catalyst for the rapid bonding process that ensued. 

“Start small,” was her first piece of advice. That day, the two of you went to have lunch at the dining hall. You stood in line with your trays, waiting to be served. Ellie beamed up at the cook who splashed soup into her bowl, and said: “hi!” She proceeded to nudge your arm, and you mimicked her reaction as if on command. The cook replied with a curious gaze and a smile and the interaction ended as quickly as it had begun.

It was small, next to nothing, just greeting a person but you felt an immediate flutter in your stomach, like the butterflies applauded your courage with their tickling wings.

It was a win.

Ellie would sometimes come into your room throw herself on your bed and chat you up, before perching her head atop her knuckles to direct her attention to you. After some time you caught on to her pattern, realizing that she made an effort to make you feel comfortable with her, each time as if she had yet to gain your trust, before beginning what might as well be called “lessons”.

Joel sat quietly on the sidelines but he absolutely adored seeing you and Ellie form this sweet bond. He could tell you took Ellie seriously and viewed her as a teacher as she helped you polish your social skills. One night, when Joel got back from patrol, he walked in on you taking notes as Ellie named people she thought might be a good match for you to take your newfound skillset to the next level. Coming back from a rough shift, whatever strain he may have experienced outside of Jackson's walls smoldered, his brow decreasing and his shoulders tensed no longer. Joel thought it was one of the most pure things he had ever witnessed.

Joel and Ellie offered you food and a bed to sleep in; you acted like a family, you looked like a family. It had been a long time since anybody had given you anything without expecting something in return. You had almost forgotten it was possible to live with people without some kind of transaction taking place.

It was weird.

Or perhaps it was nostalgia. The dining room setting with food on the table and a group of people you cared about in one way or another; the evenings spent in the living room, playing cards or a board game. Revisiting these scenarios in your mind in the quiet of the night, you thought you looked like a family.

…

Joel was typically out on patrol around 8 am, so you were surprised to see him sitting at the kitchen table when you finally woke the next morning.

“Mornin’,” he chipped, a sleepy smile tugging the corners of his lips upward.

You returned the smile. “Good morning, Joel. No patrol today?”

He couldn't decide whether he hated or loved it when you would speak his name, something he hadn't felt in so many years it felt unfamiliar.

Joel shook his head, wiping his hand on a dirty cloth, and drank from his mug. “No. I'm supposed to go on a supply run today. If you want you can come with me?"

Alone time with Joel. The proposition ignited something that had become a little too familiar to you lately. Fantasies of laying in a luxurious king-size with Joel brewed in your mind as you poured black coffee into your own mug.

"I thought you were assigned partners for that kind of thing. Refill?"

Joel held out his cup and you poured him some more.

He chuckled. "Yeah, Tommy's been tryna set me up with a couple, but he says I chase 'em away." He sips his coffee. "So f'ya want, I'm free for the takin'. Besides—I'd rather go with someone I know." Someone I'm comfortable with, was implied.

You put back the kettle and leaned against the counter, hugging your arm around yourself.

Perhaps you could use it as an opportunity to tell him why you actually came to Jackson. Although it didn't specifically affect him, it felt wrong to keep him in the dark.

You began wondering how to explain yourself, began wondering why you hadn't simply told him from the get-go. Your home burning down wouldn't change a thing for him.

It hardly mattered now.

“Okay,” you agreed. It would be fun. Just like when you went hunting together. “I'll come with you.”

…

Joel gave you an hour to shower and get ready. You felt yourself getting both nervous and excited to spend some time with him, giddy by all means, and you hated how you caught yourself looking in the mirror one too many times before stepping out. You had never been so vain as you had become over the last month and you suspected it was due to Joel's presence.

It was only a matter of time before you had to admit you had come to develop the fattest crush on him. You supposed it wasn't that odd. He was good-looking and kind and funny and not that much older than you—either way, age difference didn't appear to be the people in Jackson's biggest concern.

Regardless, you decided to suppress whatever feelings you may or may not have for Joel.

Really, it was inevitable. You hadn't seen a man in so long that you barely remembered what they looked like, what they sounded like. Joel's voice was deep and alluring, something you imagined the women in Jackson went crazy over. You couldn't be the only one, that was for certain. 

When you had washed up and pulled into enough clothes to keep you warm for the weather, you met Joel in the kitchen where he was scribbling a note, presumably for Ellie, and then headed off to the stalls.

It was around 10 o'clock and the street was bustling. People worked on just about every corner, whether it was chopping wood, selling vegetables, loading horses, or painting their house exterior—they were all busy.

“So where're we going?”

“West o’ here, a camp that's been abandoned recently. They must've left in a hurry 'cause it's stocked with all kinds of goods.”

An abandoned camp. You had read enough horror stories to doubt anything was ever truly abandoned. It made you nervous.

“You've been there before?”

“No,” Joel responded and when he looked at you he understood immediately. “Tommy has, though. Says they've been lootin’ there a couple o’ times now with no trouble. No sign of anyone.” His words did little to make you less ill at ease. But then he added: “I wouldn't take you there if I thought it might be dangerous.”

The warmth that crawled from your chest and up to your neck and cheeks overpowered your worries and you forgot they had ever been there in the first place. 

By the time you stepped into the stables, the heavy odor of manure and hay punched the air out of your lungs, the stench so unbearable you didn't care to inhale just yet.

Joel didn't seem fazed. “We need two horses!” he called out.

You looked to where his eyes were fixed and noticed a man hunched over a workbench, his dirty beige overalls providing convincing camouflage.

The man looked up from where he was standing. His face was as dirty as his clothes, hiding freckles and sealing the smiling wrinkles by his eyes.

He started walking closer and you instinctively stepped back, your hand unclenching by the holster at your side. You had opted for guns today, as the weight of your sword would be too much of a strain on your injury.

The man wiped his hand with an equally dirty cloth and held it out with a big smile. “I'm Danny. You must be the newcomer.”

You didn't shake his hand but replied with your name, curtly, undoubtedly coming off rude. You didn't care.

His smile faltered but he quickly put on a new one to mask his discomfort. “It's good to meet you. Y'all going on a supply run?”

“Yeah,” Joel replied, and as you looked at him again, you thought he didn't like the man either.

While the man went to retrieve the horses, you became distracted by one. A chocolate brown mare, with a white stripe drizzling down its muzzle. You didn't have to stare at it for much longer before you realized it.

It was your old horse, Wilma.

When you approached her stall, she nodded her head and you imagined she greeted you after all those years. You had once heard horses had an incredible memory and were able to recognize their owners. There was no doubt in your mind she remembered you as she enthusiastically bobbed her head up and down, her feet getting restless.

“Ma'am!” Danny called out, trudging up to where you stood by her enclosure. “I wouldn't get too close. She ain't too fond of strangers.”

You ran your hand down the white stripe on Wilma's head and she leaned into your touch. You had never been much fond of horses until you met her. Once a little speck of sweet life in a barren land. You felt a pang of guilt as you recalled leaving her behind to fend for herself.

Danny sounded his curious disbelief. “Huh. She won't even let me handle her like that.”

“She probably ain't very fond of you then,” you chirped.

Danny looked defeated, puzzled, and intrigued at the same time.

You looked at Joel who had been observing the interaction. “Joel, this is Wilma. She was my horse once.”

“I ‘spose she still is then. Ain't that right, Danny?”

Danny seemed to stiffen up as Joel addressed him, something resembling respect with a hint of fear in his attitude.

He shook his head. “No, yeah—yes, of course she is.” With that, he hurried off to fetch Joel a horse.

You eagerly let Wilma out and took a good look at her. She looked well-fed and clean, her hide beautiful as you remembered. She trusted you to inspect her hooves and they looked fairly new but filthy and you suspected she wasn't let out often.

You cleaned her hooves and saddled up and by then Joel was ready and waiting for you. You then left Jackson and headed west.

…

Clusters of rubble from the demolished town hall diverted the river, and it was beautiful. What you imagined had once been the bustling center of a small city was now thriving with wildlife and nature dripping out of the gaping windows. The river appeared to be the result of the destroyed levee further east, making water fill the underground tunnel and drainage system completely. Vegetation dressed the sign of the apocalypse, the bombing, romanticizing the world of destruction heavily.

"So how are you chasing your partners away?” you quizzed.

"Ellie says it's 'cause I'm a grump. I guess it can seem that way," Joel shrugged, watching his step for branches. "I just don't care talking to people I have nothin' in common with. Guess the lack of chitchat makes me seem grumpy and send 'em runnin'."

You silently nodded along as you led the way back to your horses. So far Joel had been right: There had been nothing to worry about. It was deserted and there were only ruins where a city had once stood, remains of the people who had lived in it.

"I don't think you're grumpy."

Joel didn't know how to respond. He hadn't per se avoided getting along with people, but he hadn't done much to integrate himself into the community, either.

Suddenly you stopped dead in your tracks, a gasp leaving your lips and Joel had pulled out his rifle on instinct in a split-second.

He couldn't make out where to aim though.

Although you would have reacted the same way, you laughed when you noticed and put your hand over the barrel of his gun. Joel shuddered as if it were him you touched.

“Relax, Joel. They're already extinct.”

The smile on your face was impossible to wipe off as you stepped over boulders and rubble to reach the rugged-looking building.

The giant monster with a broken neck gave away the source of your excitement, and Joel read aloud the sign as you got closer: “Walter W. Granger Center of Paleontology.”

He huffed.

“C'mon Joel! You never had a dinosaur obsession as a kid?”

“I don't remember ever bein’ a kid.”

You waited by the entrance, holding open the door with a shattered glass frame as if it would stop anyone from entering, but he nodded thankfully at the gesture as he caught up to you.

“We can't be long. It's gonna get dark soon.”

Ditching your loot at the entrance, you wandered mindlessly into the museum. You had stocked up on all that was needed. Medicine, canned food, batteries, and more. You had secretly been looking for anything to keep yourself entertained in your new home, books or games or anything that might make Jackson more comfortable to you, but with no luck. You supposed there might be a gift shop in here, but you didn't dare hope everything had not already been taken.

Skeletons of prehistoric wonders stole away your focus and you were glad to be here with Joel as he was always wary of his surroundings.

You felt comfortable with Joel and for more reasons than one.

Joel nudged your arm and pointed to a banner hanging from the ceiling, torn but readable.

“Look at that. We just missed the stegosaurus exhibit,” Joel sighed and when you looked back at him, he was already watching you, waiting for your reaction to his joke.

You rolled your eyes and walked on but Joel didn't miss the way your lips curled upward.

The supposed stegosaurus skeleton towered over you as you crept up onto the platform. You were amazed both by the fact that it was still intact after all these years of abandon and its sheer size. Walking under its frame, through its chest cavity, your fingers grazed its bones when Joel spoke your name and you directed your attention to him.

Your grin lingered only in wrinkles from your smiling when you saw his expression.

“Something wrong?”

Joel took a deep breath, stumbling over his words as he tried to find the right ones.

“Joel?” you pressed as you were getting nervous.

"Lookit, uh... Ellie told me—about your house.”

Oh.

On more than one occasion on this outing, you had been wanting to tell him. You certainly wanted to, but it had been difficult bringing it up, difficult to break the silence and whenever you were engaged in conversation, it slipped your mind.

Joel watched you closely and he convinced himself he had come to know you. He thought you looked sad. He wasn't sure whether it was because of your home burning down or because you hadn't told him and him bringing it up made you feel as if you had been lying to him. He certainly wasn't mad and he proved it by resting his hand on yours, his coarse thumb caressing your skin in comfort. Joel had lived long enough to know the difference between lying and not telling the truth.

“Why didn't you tell me?"

If only you had been truthful about it to begin with, you wouldn't have to stand there so awkwardly now, not knowing the answer to a simple question.

Your eyes flickered from the sandy patch beneath you to your hand—to his hand. It was much larger than yours, more rough but comforting in a way. As his thumb pressed on your skin, Joel's hand clutching yours—it felt like a hug; ensuring your safety with him. You felt safe.

“I don't know,” you finally sighed. “I don't know, Joel.”

Perhaps there was a part of you that wanted him to know you came to Jackson because of him—that you wanted to follow him and at the time you convinced yourself it was because you had no other choice. It was a lie, you knew that now. You had survived for so long on your own, found a house, and made it your own—there was no reason not to do it again, to start over.

Except for the reason in front of you, of course. This man, his charisma, something a natural-born leader possessed that made people inclined to follow them, Joel possessed that.

You weren't sure why a choked laugh escaped you but then you realized your vision had become blurry and a teardrop trickled down your cheek.

Joel whispered your name and you sniffled, inhaling shakily.

“M'sorry, Joel… I—I really don't know why I wasn't honest with you—maybe I was embarrassed. I've survived this long and I spend a couple of days with you guys around and suddenly I've lost all ability to take care of myself. Shit.” You laughed again, shaking your head, and walked out from under the skeletal reconstruction.

“There's nothing to be embarrassed about,” Joel did his best to assure you, stepping down as well. You already missed the warmth of his hand. “I'm sorry ‘bout your house, okay? But I hope you'll wanna stay in Jackson. I can tell Ellie likes havin’ you ‘ere. I know I do.”

That warmth returned to you, this time in your cheeks. You didn't do much to hide the blush. “Thank you, Joel.”

He nodded, the furrows still lingering on his forehead as he offered you a smile.

“C'mon. Let's go home.”

[randomthefox]

but at the same time you're not allowed to criticize the comic or anyone involved with its creation at all because they worked so hard on it and it's mean to say critical things about something they spent a lot of time and effort on why are you being so mean, as if this is just some personal project they're producing in their spare time and NOT a piece of merchandise that I paid money for." Yeah, that's the thing. They get paid, we don't. I can pull an entire Sonic visual novel out of my ass, but I don't receive payment as part of an implicit legal agreement with Sega that it is a non-profit project which I cannot capitalize on. They won't put out a C&D for a fanwork using their IP and music. IDW, on the other hand, are freelancers. They get hired to do this work, and you would think "selling the product for a profit" means it shouldn't be held to the same standard as something someone created online for free. Furthermore, this is a team effort, sans the times they force Evan Stanley to pull triple duty. They (supposedly) collaborate. They (supposedly) get their work edited. Sega (supposedly) slaps them on the wrist so they can stay within the lines. Fic writers don't have those helping hands making the work a lighter load; the onus of quality lies mostly or squarely on them.

...So what does it say when IDW goes through all of this quality control, and it still comes out the other end reading like bad fic?

People's rationale for mocking our work seems to be "talk shit, get hit." What they don't realize is that it's not that high of a bar to clear when the competition fails the most basic things you'd expect of a story. That even a "mediocre" fic, by mere virtue of having coherent storytelling and consistent characters, can outpace IDW.

My work may not be Shakespeare, but at least it's comprehensible, you know? And that's not even getting into the fact that nobody seems to be snickering "heehee fairy magic, lmao horsie OC" when the fic is good. Mostly because that would reveal their motives as petty Schadenfreude.

Frankly it just reminds me of when people hype up Sonic Mania by going "LOL THE FANS MAKE GAMES BETTER THAN SEGA CAN LOL SEGA CANT MAKE GAMES AS GOOD AS SOME ROMHACKERS!" and it's just like is that supposed to be taken as a compliment?

If I was Ian Flynn and Evan Stanley or anyone else involved with the comic, I would not take my fans going "LOL LOOK AT THE CRINGE SELF SHIP FANFICTION THESE LOSERS ARE MAKING, YOUR COMIC IS SOOOO MUCH BETTER THAN THEIR CRAP?" as something to look on with approval. I would be fucking embarrassed and ashamed. It's so juvenile and creepy and pathetic and insincere.

I can't speak to how those people actually feel about it, maybe they're incredibly petty and insecure and maybe seeing people claim their comic is better than free fanfiction people write in their spare time makes them feel better about the work they produce. All I can say is if that IS the case then that says more about them than anything I ever could.

[punkitt-is-here]

Ridiculously funny to me that people keep sending you bait-y discourse asks. Like all due respect but this is the guy that draws funnie horsie comics.

akgfdgfg yeaH!. like. i AM a person and i do love talking about complex topics like this (it is literally part of my job and i take a lot of courses on it in college) but for most folks im simply the funny artist person. so its funny seeing people try to kill me stab me with knives.

[semiramis-audron]

Yesterday I listened to the latest critical role episode that is sponsored by nintendo

And I gotta say, as someone who has special interest in voice actors it was very funny to follow my train of thoughts when matt did the Totk add read in the break. .. Like...

Matt basically: Play tears of the kingdom, it's fun and a beautiful game, I found a cute horsy, but it's also a bit dangerous, uwu

And I'm like "Yeah okay, Ganondork, I will play your game."

( original art by @mjoyart here)

[mbrainspaz]

been at the lake for 2 hours and my conservative gay uncle is already back on that capitalist bullshit. I appreciate his intention was to help me brainstorm ways to navigate my latest job/living crisis (in which the rich people are once again f*cking me over for doing the best at my job it's possible to do) but he strayed off the mark when he said 'there are jobs you could do for more money' and I said, 'oh? Do tell. I'll take one.' And of course he can't name any jobs paying a livable entry level wage. We'd just been talking about how all the jobs I've interviewed for in my field have been offering $17 max.

But okay—I'll do anything. I don't care what I have to do for 8-10 hours a day anymore as long as it pays enough to live (and isn't causing harm to others). He essentially goes, 'but an advantage of your current job is that it's fun.' Bruuuuuuh. I don't think there are many jobs outside of farm & ranch that pay so little for so much back breaking work. Probably mining. Some construction jobs. I heard railway inspectors have to walk about as much as I do, but I'm pretty sure they make more.

But you know there's no way I'm ever going to convince my corporate CEO uncle that what I do on the daily is one of the most grueling jobs on the planet because it's horsies, right? It's fuuuun. omg so fun. I love shoveling 3 tons of manure daily in 120 degree summers. I love dumping carrying dozens of 100 pound buckets because our equipment broke down again. I love walking 12 miles while getting eaten alive by mosquitos. I love trudging through rivers in lightning storms in the middle of the night. I love casually risking life and limb to calm a panicking horse.

I mean, I do kinda love it, but not because it's 'fun' or 'easy.' I love it because it's metal. I could probably make more as a barista if there were a coffee shop that'd give me enough hours, which apparently there isn't because lots of my friends have tried that already and they're just as broke as I am.

I tried to tell my uncle the only friends I have who're making a living are the ones who inherited either a house or a job from their company owning dad. He mentioned 'working my way up' in a company and I nearly fell off the bar chair laughing. Dude I'm litterally in the process of getting punished by corporate for doing The Most And Best Work at my job for two years.

Then he had to top it off by telling me my comic is a hobby and if it's costing me money I can't afford to do it and should just quit.

Oh like... my passion project? The main thing that's given me the will to keep living through most of the last 7 years? That comic? For f*ck's sake man.

He wasn't even done there! He decided to go for the jackpot of Bad Life Advice with, "well you should consider getting rid of your dogs then."

"The dogs I've had for almost 10 years that also give me the will to live and have been my best friends and companions through it all?"

"You can make new friends."

Anyway, I'm chilling in my hideout in the attic now and I'll probably be here for most of the next 4 days. Gonna try to finish one more page of my comic before the year is over and my life fully goes back to broke hobo mode.