#i hate drawing sonic so much why is his body shaped like that put this man in clothes

[koreyeet]

my poor sopping wet baby child he needs help so bad

btw this song is released yet i took the audio from a recording of a concert but there is a new crane wives song tomarrow and im hyped

images

[royalpicaro]

Here are the typed numbered points, final thoughts at the end DISCLAIMER: I used a Sonic ref page from GAMING 2019 to help with mapping and finding out what features match up with the guide lines. I think this is perfectly okay to do for LEARNING purposes like this one.

1. His hair is based off of fresh hair growing after a shave. The Awkward Phase™ 2. I'm terrible with front view shoes >.< 3. Ear tufts! 4. Marks are just slanted rectangles. 5. I will avoid drawing more hands than needed LMAO 6. Based off of a standard sneaker design. 7. Fluffy tail! 8. (Dot) Points of interest. 9. I like the tuft going back this far. 10. Faded and non-faded symbol of Phenthoma's(Fen-tohm-ah) lab. 11. Phenthoma lab symbol on the back of glove. Just the left glove. 12. Phenthoma is a character that is no longer living. A vital part of Elliot's past. We hate her. >:( 13. A design will be here in time! 14. In the short 30 min. that I have been desigining and mapping, I've already figured out how the torso is shaped. If you struggle, I highly rec mapping the characters. EXTENDED: I was still on the first pose when I did this and this genuinely helped me visualize where to put what parts where. 15. Triangles and squares are your best friends! 16. I HATE this angle!! 17. Anything to avoid hands 💅 18. In the mapping pic, you can see I'm much more comfy without too many shapes. EXTENDED: By this time, I already knew how to make the torso and how to position the arms and tuft. The head and body are very much oddly proportional. I believe the reason why we believe it's not is because of how large Sonic and others' quills are because Amy doesn't really have this issue. It works though and I wouldn't have the characters any other way. 19. I wanted to convey that Elliot is VERY fluffy hence the tufts of fur everywhere. EXTENDED: I know this sounds obvious, but I based Elliot off of those giant fluffy wolves that I just wanna hug. Elliot could easily be a pillow for anyone with all his fluff. He is definitely the type to look bigger when dry, but the second he is dunked in water, he looks like a very skinny wet rat. Think of those fluffy cats that look big but shrink SO MUCH when they get a bath LMAO 20. I now know my problem angles, but also how to use non-Sonic ref pics for bigger and better pieces! :D Now, my final thoughts: This was incredibly helpful! I never was really good with Sonic anatomy and I always struggled with it. I love how I was able to find my problem areas and improve on them in such a short amount of time. I want to do bigger pieces with Elliot, but at the moment, I have no plans on writing anything around this character other than the needed empty spots in the lore(THE LORE!!!). Such as Phentoma's full story and how Dean, Elliot's first love, died by Phen's hands. If there is any interest in this then I can answer some questions about the story. Though, warning, Elliot might be a very boring character. Here's some tidbits: He doesn't have the rage of someone who has lost a lot, even though he has, indeed, lost a lot. He's let it go with time. He values maturity in approaching situations with understanding instead of violence or raising his voice. He doesn't like to fight even though he is more than capable. He collects silly things and is hard to aggravate. He's kind and caring, even to those he knows have hurt him or others. He's just a project that was successful and that cost him everything. He hates stargazing, but loves to see the stars in people's eyes when they speak about something they're passionate about. He doesn't mind if his body is submerged in water, but he will not submerge his head. I think that's enough droning on. Even though there's more, I feel like this post is long and intimidating enough to read. Intimidating in the sense of just how much there is. Anyway, please tell me about your Sonic ocs if you have them! I LOVE to learn about other's ocs and how many cool concepts there are!

[dunkalfredo]

1575 words of gay and also hair? ft. amy

yo yo yo what up im back and im here to bring u that sweet sweet infidget

disclaimer: in case the title implies otherwise lemme just say that amy is gay too shes just not the main focus of this story. trust me, shes v gay and i love her. shes a good gorl. bless her soul

other disclaimer: infinite’s not-infinite name is finn bc infinite is Not his real name i stg

other other disclaimer: this is old friends au/fixed canon. follows the canon @theashemarie and i are establishing over here in our lil gay corner

u kno the drill yall click Keep reading to read the things

It’s a simple difference, so small that Gadget doesn’t notice it at first.

Finn’s there, at the breakfast nook, reading the newspaper, and when Gadget walks in (always the last to wake up, today’s no exception) he makes it all the way to the fridge before his eye spots the change in shape, the abnormal smallness of the silhouette in his peripheral.

He turns, slowly, as though he’ll disturb the air if he moves too fast, and says, perplexed, “Did you cut your hair?”

(Gadget really looks at Finn for the first time, and his brain confirms what his eyes whispered to him mere moments ago; short, white locks tickle Finn’s neck, replacing the usual mane of white down his back.)

Finn looks up from his periodical, makes eye contact, and shrugs. “Needed a change. Do you like it?”

Gadget’s still several paces behind where he needs to be, not yet at ‘Do you like it?’ and still at it wasn’t short last night.

Finn’s not exactly a master hairdresser. Gadget eyes the thin locks, the jagged ends, the slight shake in Finn’s hands as he watches Gadget watch him; it all screams impulse, midnight and afraid, chop it off, feel better now but horrified in the morning, all too aware that it’s too late to take it back. Gadget sees it in his eyes, the need for reassurance, validation.

Gadget sighs, a small depression of his chest, and smiles. “Yeah, it’s nice.”

It’s not so much that Finn smiles, or speaks, but his carriage lifts ever so slightly, and the newspaper stops shaking.

-

(Gadget also sees, for the first time, the dark circles under Finn’s eyes, and his mind wanders.

Finn, three a.m., sheets tossed by nightmares and bed absent one, stumbling to the bathroom and staring himself in the mirror with wild, cold eyes. He doesn’t recognize the face in the mirror. He can’t feel his own hands. The world is little too dark, too foggy, obscured by nightfall and burnt lightbulbs, and the space feels liminal, unreal.

Finn runs the tap, listens to the whine of the faucet, lets it ring in his ears as he splashes his face with cold water, and the hair on his head hangs limp over his neck, pouring over his shoulders, a cascade of white. He forgot to put it up last night.

It’s this simple fact that occupies his mind, drags his hands into the drawers for a hair tie, but instead his fingers brush against something hard, sharp. Scissors.

Gadget’s mind stops there, not willing to breathe life into the image of Finn, breath heavy, eyes watering, hands trembling, sweeping hair into the garbage and carefully climbing back into bed limb by limb like he’ll break if he bends too far.)

-

It’s later, when the day is over, and they’re home, sprawled out over the couch and recharging after errands and separate schedules and distance that Finn finally says it aloud, despite its sitting heavy in the air since that morning and never leaving:

“I need help.”

Gadget, head in his lap and eyes on the television, doesn’t look up, doesn’t even bother raising his head to speak and instead mumbles his words into Finn’s knee. “Astute observation, Einstein. How did you ever come to that conclusion?”

Finn huffs. “I’m serious.”

“I know you are.” Now Gadget rolls over to look up, frowning when he sees the disconcerted expression drawing Finn’s brows together. “You haven’t cut your hair since third grade.”

Gadget sees the cogs turn in his head, and then finally Finn says, barely a whisper, “Third grade?”

“Yeah.”

Finn deflates, sinks back into the couch, and then sinks further with a sigh that flattens his lungs. “I really need help.”

-

At first, they dismiss therapy outright, because they don’t think a psychologist will hear “I killed thousands of people because I got kidnapped by a mad scientist and forcibly possessed by a rock” and not immediately send Finn to the psyche ward (or, alternatively, a prison cell, since Finn’s still technically a wanted criminal. Only technically). It’s only after another night of deliberation and (for Finn) staring, sleepless, at a wall that they decide that they need someone to talk to.

(When Gadget mentions this to Sonic while they’re out doing “cleanup” (getting rid of debris in X city or Y town because Knuckles is occupied), almost shouting to project his voice over the creak of the pipe they’re lifting from the sidewalk, he’s not expecting the immediate response Sonic shoots back.

“Talk to Amy,��� says Sonic, casually, dusting off his hands and reaching for a chunk of… building? Sidewalk? Gadget can’t tell. Concrete something. They’re both going to have to lift that one. “She’s great with emotions and stuff.”

“But Amy hates Finn!” Gadget cries. “Why would she be his therapist?”

“Well, she likes you,” Sonic says. “Maybe that’ll help?”)

When Gadget relays this suggestion to Finn, he’s just as appalled. “Talk to who?”

“Amy,” Gadget says, hands worrying over each other and eyes somewhere to the right of Finn’s face.

Finn deadpans, “She hates me,” and Gadget thinks it’s like poetry, how his conversations seem to rhyme.

He sighs. “I’m aware.”

-

The moment they show up on Amy’s doorstep, and she opens the door, eyeing Finn like he’s a block of rotten cheese she just found in her fridge, Gadget’s one-hundred percent convinced that this isn’t going to work.

This feeling continues as she ushers them (Gadget) inside and offers them (Gadget) some tea, to which Gadget politely refuses and Finn stays silent. She brings out three cups of chamomile anyways (Finn’s was likely an afterthought, but Gadget considers it progress), and they’re seated in her living room, Finn’s hand in Gadget’s, Amy in the seat opposite, when she starts speaking in earnest. It’s not what Gadget expects at all.

A simple question, four words, and the most perplexed voice Gadget’s ever heard from Amy; “You cut your hair?”

It’s an unexpected question followed by an equally unexpected answer: “Midnight crisis,” Finn says, and it’s with a voice that’s not nearly as small as it was hours ago, when they were both leaving the apartment and Gadget asked if he had his wallet. That was the quiet “Yes” of a man half his size and age; this is his normal, low timbre, conversational, like Amy wasn’t glaring daggers at him mere seconds ago.

Amy’s posture shifts, and while the air’s still unnaturally cold, her face opens up just a little more. “That’s why you’re here.”

“Yeah,” Finn says, frank.

She hums, and Gadget’s nerves spike.

-

It’s an hour later, and Gadget’s walking back to the metro station with Finn to head home when he hears him say, “That wasn’t too bad.”

Gadget reminds Finn, pointedly, “Half of our visit was awkward silence.”

“She only glared for a quarter of it.”

-

Later, Gadget thinks, watching Finn fiddle and hum and haw under Amy’s stripping, burning, disarming, demanding gaze for the third time in a month, that there’s something missing. He sees Finn’s thumbs, his fingers, restless, twitching and turning in his lap, and Gadget’s struck, hard, with this feeling, a wave washing over him that this isn’t right. Gadget knows what’s missing, he’s sure of it, but it’s just out of reach, a breath too far from his grabbing, clutching hands.

Then, as they walk home from Amy’s that day, he sees it, in the corner of his eye; Finn, right hand in the motion of grabbing for his shoulder, where for years a white lock would spill over and he could grab, run it between his fingers, fiddle and twist.

A memory surfaces: The two of them, younger, late high school, Gadget slipping out of the house at one in the morning because if he stays inside, where the death and cold and emptiness his father left behind aches the hardest, he might punch the walls in two, every single one, and then break and bend and snap over the rubble right after, a broken body to match the broken home it came from. He leaves, he sneaks over, desert night lukewarm and clammy against the back of his neck, and he arrives at the gaping maw of his best friend’s front door, where the hinges creak and the door opens as soon as Gadget’s foot meets the doormat.

It’s a comforting memory; Finn, shoulders tired and slumped but eyes and arms warm, curling around Gadget, letting him step into his space and his embrace, there, in the doorway, and both taking a moment to pause and breathe. It’s this lull, this potential energy building between them before moving again, that does Gadget in. His chest breaks open and a single, harrowed sob, more a hiccup and an exhale than a cry, spills out, but its muffled by Finn’s chest, contained, away from the prying eyes of others and kept just for them. In this stillness, Gadgets cards his fingers through the hair on Finn’s back, focusing on the softness of the locks instead of ache of a late father, and the digits begin looping the tufts into loose braids.

Gadget thinks of this moment, sees this in his mind’s eye as he watches Finn try and register why there’s nothing there, why his fingers feel nothing, and Gadget wonders how much they really lost that night, weeks ago, besides sleep and besides hair.