queenie-main
Love, Beauty, and Monsters
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I forgot I never uploaded this, but thought it might be interesting. These are the first designs I did of the character outfits for The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog
Then, after seeing Ellen’s outstanding sketches, we smushed our ideas together to get closer to what ended up in the final game!
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Christians hate when a gay man goes “fuck it, I’ll gladly go to Hell if you want me to so bad” because it takes the edge away from their tools of fear. If they can’t scare you with threats of eternal damnation then one of their main weapons is taken away.
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barbie from barbie (2023) is asexual (canon)
source:
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Sailor Moon x Chanel
Always nice to see new Naoko illustrations ^^
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Some idea sketches for the High School AU. I need more practice drawing everyone besides Knuckles and Rouge.
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A Bronk Christmas special comic cover idea! I have a few short story/comic ideas involving each of the characters pictured above, I love drawing big group images like this. Thank you to my sister @queenie-main for helping me color it! I’m planning to post more of my art in 2023!
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*tries to steal your emerald as an excuse to see you*
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Shield and Sword
I was feeling the dystopian knouge feelings and wrote this incredibly indulgent thing without having seen Prime at all or editing at all here have my stuff.
Everything. That's what she was to him.
In a world devoid of light, she was his hope. In a life where they had to run from place to place, hiding away from surveillance drones and security cameras, she was his home. In a world out to get them, she was all that was worth protecting.
Scars littered his being like cracks in glass or oil splattered in the streets. Badges of honor, that's what he called them. Evidence of his recklessness, that's what she called them, but he didn't agree. Every time she bandaged his wounds, her touch miraculously soft in such a jagged, violent world, his pride grew. So long as she stayed pristine and uninjured, that was all that mattered to him.
He was a guardian after all.
He was her shield, blocking her from the most dangerous and violent of attacks, soaking up hits that would send most sprawling to their knees or halfway into the grave. He was a tank, taking the most heavy damage and dishing out his own in return, no matter the bleeding, the bruising, the trauma or the breaking. Every press of her lips to his newest wound was a blessing, and every scar reminded him of his vow to make sure she never felt the harm of this world.
He doubted she would. She was nearly as strong as him, and perhaps twice as vicious. It made him smile whenever he carved a path for her to rain pain down from above, because if he was her shield, she was his sword, her flawless beauty disarming their enemies until they made the fatal mistake of underestimating her.
They were a team, more than anything else. They were each other's comfort, each other's safety, their companionship and their rebellion. The flames of their ambition grew together, feeding on each other until they were close to invincible... but they were still only two people. Two people against a Council who held the power of millions.
But that was okay. They didn't need much else. Even as they joined a larger rebel group, they didn't stray from one another.
Knuckles certainly wouldn't ever dream of leaving her side. Rouge was everything to him, after all.
...
Knuckles didn't care much for the blue one. He assumed way too much, claiming things about him that sometimes hit too close to home, and sometimes missed the mark entirely, but he said it all with such confidence, so assured in his belief that he knew them.
He kept trying to drag them into a group with two others, but Knuckles stayed by Rouge, always on the lookout for a sneak attack. These others weren't members of their rebellion, weren't faces that he knew or bodies he was willing to protect. He wouldn't let himself nor Rouge be caught unawares by them, watching her back like a hawk.
The blue one seemed to notice.
"Well well well," he chortled, digging easily under Knuckles' skin like shrapnel. "You two have something going on in this universe? It's about time you made a move."
Knuckles bristled, lip curling to reveal his teeth. How dare he assume he knew anything about his devotion to Rouge? How dare he compare it to his pathetically inferior notions of solidarity?
"I'll protect her with my life," he claimed, without even a morsel of embarrassment or hesitation. He said it like a fact, like how the sky was dark or the waters ran with filth mixed in or that any day might be their last. The blue one seemed surprised, caught off guard by Knuckles' frankness.
It managed to make the guardian even more frustrated, if that was somehow possible, so he decided to spell it out even more for him.
"I'll die before I let even a scratch get on her."
"Okay, okay!" The blue one put up his hands in surrender, and Knuckles felt nearly satisfied at having gotten his point across. "I gotcha dude, you're looking after her like... like a precious gem or something."
A gem...
Knuckles looked over at Rouge, frowning as she regarded the yellow one and the pink one. Gems certainly suited her; he could imagine her fingers running over diamond necklaces, sapphire rings, ruby bracelets and emerald earrings. And yet...
"No. More than a gem. My most precious treasure."
He spoke in terms that the blue one could understand, but even that wasn't entirely accurate.
No, she wasn't a treasure either.
She was his everything.
...
Another attack. Another hit. Another bruise to give up on healing. Knuckles didn't care; it was just a bit more pain that he knew how to handle.
He ran forward, hearing her wings beat behind him, and launched himself at the newest security drones that would turn to scrap beneath their feet long before they could hope to crush their rebellious efforts. Yes, there were more this time than others, but he didn't have the time or need to worry. He had his teammate with him, and his trust in her was absolute.
He knew that she trusted him too, and that was why he would never fail her.
His fist went through one robot, then another. Behind him, watching his six, he heard the sound of more of them getting crunched beneath her boots, ground into the pavement without mercy.
They were strong on their own, but undefeatable together. Knuckles basked in the adrenaline as he swiveled around her, grunting as he tanked yet another shot in their direction. Another crash and crunch behind him told him that Rouge had kicked another one out of commission.
Shield and sword, sword and shield. Complimenting each other with every fighting breath.
Another crash. Another bash. Another turn, another tank.
Undefeatable.
The drones kept swarming, but they kept fighting together, the grinding and screaming of metal being the only sounds to complete their song of effort. Knuckles didn't care if it took the rest of the day, this fight was theirs.
Or at least he thought so, until he punched clean through a robot and found his hand trapped for a moment longer than he expected.
A second or two to pull his hand out and get back to the battle. A second or two too many.
A blast. A scream that had his heart freeze and his soul choke in fear. A thud that sounded far too soft to be metal.
He spun around and didn't even allow himself a second to observe or process; he dove for her, huddled on the ground and breathing heavily. He shielded her with his body as the blasts continued to fire, taking in her wide, shocked eyes with his own.
Her shoulder... They had hit her shoulder, the fabric was smouldering and melting and a nasty burn was forming and oh, oh no this couldn't be happening. No no no no no...
Knuckles took her into his arms and prepared to ram through his opponents. Nothing mattered, nothing mattered except getting her to safety. The shield had slipped, and the blade was broken. She was hurt...
...and it was all his fault.
"What are you doing?!"
Her voice raised to a deafening shriek, and despite himself he grimaced, dancing away from laser blasts as his hands held his precious cargo to his chest. What was he doing? Wasn't it clear?
"You're hurt!"
Yet she still struggled, even as she sucked her teeth when she flexed her shoulder. A warrior until the very end.
"I can still fight!" she protested, peeling back his fingers like her life depended on it and Knuckles, too worried about harming her as well, felt her slip out of his grasp. He saw the tears of pain and fury gathering in her eyes, and he saw her blink them away. He saw her hold her head high, saw her push back her wince as she stretched out her wings, and followed her as she flew back into the fray.
She fought viciously, more wild and desperate than he had ever seen her, and he did the same, shoving back the pain and shame that he had failed her.
"Don't worry about me," she kept saying as they swivelled around each other. "Don't worry about me!"
He knew that she was feeling something similar.
...
Their roles were reversed; it was Knuckles with the first aid supplies, his own wounds long forgotten as he peeled back the singed fabric and took a look at her injured shoulder. The flesh was badly burned, and the sight was enough to make his stomach turn.
It was his failure. It was her failure.
It was his turn to apply the ointment, slow and tender as he could manage with his bare hands that were so used to rough treatment. It was his turn to rub at her back as the sting grew so strong that she bit her lip to keep back her pain. It was his turn to press his lips to the skin next to the wound, both a comfort and an apology.
Her hand squeezed his. He knew she blamed herself just as much as he blamed himself.
Neither would say it. They just knew.
"It'll heal," she said.
"It'll heal," he echoed.
All the same, it struck fear in his heart. Her burn, a symbol of his failure forever branded on her flesh, a reminder that his untouchable Rouge was, in fact, susceptible to injury like anyone else.
Had he done her a favor by guarding her, he wondered. Or had he made it so every injury that managed to happen upon her would shake them to their foundations?
Their fingers threaded together, and Knuckles pushed his warring thoughts to the side. He could think about how and in which ways he had failed her until the sun rose, but that wasn't what was important right then.
What he needed to focus on was how to keep supporting her, to the best of his abilities. How to make her shine like the treasure she was. How to ensure that, no matter what happened to them both, that they would both keep making it to the next day, and all the days beyond.
She was his everything, after all.
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