#but at least they get to celebrate it

[feluka]

in all honesty i feel there shouldn't be any christmas celebrations at all until palestine is free

[cubbihue]

It would be nice to hear from Wanda and Cosmo! It is kind of nice that you guys have two children like your own family does. Are you two still close to your siblings? Wanda has a sibling and Cosmo also have a sibling just like Timmy and Peri. Do they share some sibling stories to your children?

Wanda and Cosmo both reconnected with their siblings shortly after having Peri. Or, well. More like Blonda reentered their lives once she realized she had a baby nephew. Eventually, they slowly patched things up the more Blonda came to visit Peri.

Schnozmo was dragged back kicking and screaming. Mama Cosma refuses to have her sons live estranged lives now that she has a grandchild in the picture. Schnozmo doesn't know how to handle children, but he's doing his best.

Peri likes Schnozmo because he makes silly noises and funny stories. But he prefers Blonda's theatrics much more and loves playing Dress Up with her.

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

[ursamajori]

god i love being SOOO obnoxious about my ocs everyone should be 50% more obnoxious about their ocs right neow

[ruporas]

cheers to the future of humanity (and the future of us)

[ID: Digital illustration in color of Vash and Wolfwood from Trigun. The illustration takes place during the ship/home arc, specifically chapter 21. At the center, Vash is grabbing Wolfwood by the collar and pulls him into a kiss in the middle of a celebration. The pair is colored in vibrant warm hues while their surroundings are colored in cooler colors like green and teals. Luida, Brad, Meryl, and Milly are shown amongst the crowd, occupied in the celebrations as Vash and Wolfwood share a moment by themselves at the center. END ID]

[naamahdarling]

You know what? You know what I think?

I think that if we lived as we were meant to, in larger intimate ("extended family") groups and with more shared labor and time to do it (UBI NOW) people like me would not feel so useless and burdensome because there would be people around to help and to do what neurodivergent people can't while making valuable space for the neurodivergent to do what they ARE good at.

The way we live right now, all right, the way we live right now forces units of two adults to be able to do EVERYTHING or PAY to have someone come do it for them. I have to do the housework. I have to do it! But I am having to do a million different things and most of them I am not good at. I suck at them.

I wouldn't feel like shit, okay, if I had more than one other person around who was not a child and who could do the things I can't, like do the yard and cook and do repairs and basic maintenance; and someone else to split everything else that I like but is too much for me. It would free me to do what I am good at and enjoy. Cleaning, as in the sink and toilet, the windows, the blinds. Taking out trash. Folding, hanging, and sorting laundry.

But because all the shit I can do often relies on other shit being done first, and I can't do or have trouble doing those things, the shit I can do often can't be done. And even the shit I can do, I can't do ALL of it. So I can't keep up, and things get very bad.

We aren't meant to live like this. We are not meant to live like this.

That thought hurts so much because being able to flee the birth family is integral to survival for so many people. I'm so afraid that living in larger family groups would create more opportunities for, say, queer kids to be isolated, rejected, bullied, and abused. But if we gave people enough money to survive, and stopped considering children the property of their parents with no system in place to help them escape bad situations except a system that is often just as bad, just different.

I'm aware that communes and collectives aren't all that successful and are kind of a joke. I don't mean that. I mean a fundamental shift to multigenerational families where taking in "strays" (which my family did) is also normalized so people escaping abuse into existing households was accepted, with these families centered in maybe a couple of different larger residences so not everyone has to buy and maintain their own fucking washing machine and vacuum cleaner, and so people can benefit from large group meals that yield leftovers, and so child and elder care can also be centralized.

Then disabled people and the neurodivergent and sick and injured people, and pregnant people, and grieving people, would not have to either labor through all those stressors or consign themselves to living off an unlivable pittance or being put under legal guardianship.

I'm not saying anything new. People live like this in other parts of the world and maybe it sucks and I am wrong. But I'm just really mad right now because I can either do laundry or clean the sink but not both, and I really think we could improve society somewhat by making it so I did not have to choose one without sacrificing the other.

[98chao]

quick valentines doodle

[kimodraw]

Time lord victorious and time lord not so victorious

[honeyfractals]

Yume and her Nikkies celebrating Halloween together

[onegroovyrose]

The Arclights would like to battle!

[wyvernity]

sss day my favorite national holiday WOOOOHHHH

bonus

[batsplat]

random throwback to fabio's response to casey saying he should've been black flagged for the whole open leathers situation

[arklayraven]

We got a message from Lucifer for og OM HDD 2023 💙

[jae-in-a-trenchcoat]

@yasammyweek day 4: engagement/wedding!

Vaguely riffing off @toasterdrake’s engagement one in the fact I think they would get married as soon as they could after everything, so it would be just the camp fam and super lowkey (I do think they would eventually have a much bigger one with lots of family and traditions and stuff though)

[uniiiquehecrt]

Voice actors are NOT the same as actors.

It takes a specific kind of skill-set and training to be able to warp and meld the voice. It takes a certain kind of talent and dedication to hone that talent into the ability to meld the voice and invoke emotion with one's voice alone. Actors are used to using their voice secondarily to their body language and their facial expressions. It's all mirrored back on camera. They do have nuance. But it's a different kind of nuance and a different kind of training to produce that nuance.

Voice actors might get their likeness transposed on their character's design, and maybe their mannerisms might seep into the character's animation. But when it's all said and done: their presence is in their voice. They are bringing a character to life, showing that emotion in their voice, trying to keep a specific accent, drawl, pitch, tone in that voice and keep it consistent for their recording sessions.

The voice actor is like a classically trained musician who can play first chair in a competitive, world-renown orchestra. The actor (who fills the voice actor's role) is like a moot who played violin in beginner and intermediate high school orchestra and thinks they can get into Juilliard with that 2-4 years of experience.

This doesn't mean that the HS orchestra moot can't play. They can even be really good at it. Maybe they won competitions and sat first chair. But they are not in the same league as the person who's been training their whole lives and lives and breathes to hone their craft using the instrument and all of the training they've ever acquired to perfect it. They are not meant for the same roles. They are not in the same caliber. You do not hire the HS equivalent when you want to play complex music in a competitive orchestra.

Actors are not the same as voice actors.

And furthermore, actors - especially big name actors - taking the roles of animated characters for big budget films or TV pilots makes no sense anyways when - at least in the case of TV pilots - there's not a point to hiring a big budget actors anyways. That money could be used elsewhere (like paying your animators), and the talent that is brought onto the screen for X character could then be hired on to voice said character no recasting required.

I wouldn't say voice acting as a profession is in danger exactly, but it's certainly being disrespected and overlooked for celebrity clout, and this has ALWAYS been an issue. Shoot, even Robin Williams knew that much - which is why he tried so hard not to be used as a marketing chess piece for Aladdin and got royally pissed off when it happened anyways. People shouldn't go to any movie (but especially not animated films) because "oh famous actor is in it". People should go because it's a good movie and the voice acting is good.

People who honest to god think that voice actors are replaceable because "oh well anyone can voice act" or "I like xyz celebrity so naturally it'll be good" ... Honestly I just wish you'd reassess your priorities because you're missing the point and are part of the problem.

Voice Actors ≠ Actors.

[nyaawn]

Happy 10(+3) Birthday FFXIV!

[nixoon-again]

Sonic doesn't know what he loathes more; being forced to sit in the dark, unable to move in a locked cell for Chaos knows how long or facing the nightmares the occasional light entails.

He grumbles to himself as he shifts in his restraints, the chains clinking against the metal floor as he tries to sit up straight once more. Half lidded, tired eyes look ahead aimlessly, the bright shine in those emeralds has taken on a more dulled shade in these past few months or something. How long has he been here exactly? He doesn't know. A part of him doesn't want to know.��

He's tired.

Sonic places his head on his knees as softly as he can as to not worsen his throbbing headache and then he runs a hand through his dishevelled quills; his fur is a mess — don't get him wrong, Sonic isn't that much into modern fur care techniques, he just lets the wind style his quills but the recent lack of, well, just about everything from proper food and water to even a hint of sunlight has made his fur thinner than it already was. Sticky with sweat, his fur has become dry, dull and matted. It feels horrible, or that's what he would say if he didn't have worse things to worry about right now.

The door to his cell creaks open, a shilling sound that makes him pin his ears down to his skull and grit his teeth — speak of the devil…

Sonic doesn't look up, doesn't want to, not anymore when he hears someone step in and close the door to his cell once more, blocking the onslaught of more light than he's ever granted in this confined space again. 

Again.

It happens again and that's what gnaws at Sonic's guts from the inside out.

Always, he always comes back.

Little, calculated steps patter towards him, a bit scared with the way they move. As if too confused whether or not it's a good idea to reach Sonic and too hasty and terrified that they wish to be next to his side in an instant. 

Or so it seems to be, Sonic knows better.

Because always it starts the same; like a dream he wishes so badly to be true, a vestige he longs to hold in his arms, a visage he never wants to let go of and yet he knows how it ends, how he's painstakingly given a ray of hope and how mercilessly it is snatched from his hands, how quickly the light is snuffed out, just how heartlessly everything is taken from him, leaving him feeling more vulnerable than he's ever been, re-evaluating whether he even deserves to be called a hero when he can't even save the people he holds dearest to his heart, why has he gone so weak that he can't even save someone in his protective embrace.

Nothing scared his little brother in his embrace, nothing.

It's as if the warm barrier of his arms is enough to word off every threat, every nightmare, every strike of thunder.

He remembers it so vividly, holding a scared little fox kit close to his chest and watching his tense shoulders relax, his shivering body calm down, his soft sniffles turning into gentle purrs.

It leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

He'll never hold his little brother like that again.

He can't hold him at all.

Tails isn't here anymore.

And it's all Sonic's fault.

The little footsteps stop somewhere before him, not more than a feet or two away. Sonic doesn't want to look up, Sonic doesn't want to see that face again.

(He's lying. He desperately wants to see that face again, he's dying to look in those ocean eyes full of life, to run his hands through the soft golden fur, to wrap himself around that little body and protect him from everything. Everything—)

Sonic's quills bristle when he feels them plop on the cold, metal floor before him.

Nothing happens for what feels like hours. Sonic doesn't look up and his guest doesn't move an inch from the spot they've taken. The silence becomes overwhelming, frightening but Sonic will never say that out loud. Because why should he? Why should he admit he's afraid when he swears he's not. 

(And if he's not afraid why won't he look up?)

Sonic has had many nightmares in his life, why does this have to be the worst one, why does this one has to repeat itself — why can't they just let him mourn once.

Everyone dies.

But everyone dies once.

Then why bring him back every time? Why use his face to haunt Sonic? Why can't they just let his little brother rest? Why does he have to suffer just so they can get to Sonic?

What did he do to deserve this?

A small hand rests on his forearm.

Reluctant, yet Sonic finally raises his head.

Just as he feared, he is greeted by his little brother's face. Not the same as he lost him but the same as he so clearly remembers — the brown fur, the big baby blue eyes open wide, the unsure movements, the oh so tiny hands, the cream tipped twin tails, the three unruly bangs… The weak little toddler he took under his wing, malnourished, scared with a mind brighter than anyone else in the whole world and a determination to rival his own.

He looks what? Four? Barely five?

It makes Sonic's heart crumble.

He shouldn't be here. He doesn't belong here. 

There's no recognition in emerald eyes, no emotion the little cub before him can decipher. Just tired, dull greens that match lively, bright blues.

The cub tilts his head when Sonic doesn't regard him, one of his ears flops to the side when he does, a small frown tugs at his lips as he knits his brows in confusion and Sonic has seen this little perplexed face too many times to count.

Still, the kit words the question assaulting his mind and, Chaos, the small voice tugs at the hedgehog's heart, “Sonic, are you upset?”

Innocence oozes out of the simple question, the cub's bug eyes don't help Sonic's case at all. He knows it will only hurt to reply, but how long can he ignore a child he raised?

“Yeah… I guess you can say that, bud.” Sonic reaches out a hand, seemingly to pet the kit's head but stops midway. The gloved hand hovers over the younger for a moment before Sonic retracts it, resting it on his knee instead.

If it is possible, Tails adds with an even smaller voice, “... With me?”

Are you upset with me?

What a silly question.

Sonic can never be upset with Tails.

The answer is right there, it is not even something he has to think about. Upset with Tails? As if. He can't be even if he tried to, not more than a second at best. Why would he? The kit has never done anything wrong, anything worth getting mad at. Tails is a good child and he's so much better than Sonic in many ways — Tails is polite, he plays ahead, he's a better negotiator, he's almost always the voice of reason, he makes better decisions — Sonic can never be mad at him.

Yet he says none of it out loud.

His reply never comes.

He doesn't know why.

(Is he actually upset with him? For coming back or for promising to make him live through the loss again?)

The kit all but crumbles at the lack of a reply. His ears pinning against his skull as he lowers his head, carefully taking his cold hand off of Sonic's arm and leaving it lying uselessly in his lap.

Instinct yells at Sonic to pick up the fox cub and cradle him in his arms, hush him and tell him whatever self-deprecating nonsense his brain is feeding is wrong and Sonic can never be upset with him, isn't upset with him right now and how he shouldn't beat himself up over little nothings when his big brother is right there to protect him from ill thoughts but Sonic doesn't move. Don't get him wrong, he wants nothings more that to pull the kit in a strong embrace but he can't get himself to do so. 

He always loses Tails in his arms.

He's too scared to hold him, afraid that he will lose him the moment he pulls the boy to his chest.

He doesn't want to.

He doesn't want to go through that again.

Maybe it's selfish of him to think like about his charge but he can't. 

He just can't.

If it was anyone but Tails, Sonic might have done something. He might have pushed himself to at least calm them down even if it will just make the departure more painful.

But not Tails.

Not his little brother.

(Not as a toddler for Chaos’ sake)

“Sonic?” The kit calls again, the hedgehog doesn't acknowledge him. Tails continues anyway, “Did I-I do something bad?”

No. No, he didn't. Of course, he didn't. He can never do anything bad. Not in Sonic's eyes, never. Still, the hedgehog doesn't say anything. He doesn't find his voice strong enough to reply. Instead, he rests his head on his knees again and runs a hand through his quills with a sigh.

Now that he's not looking at Tails, it sounds like the kit is on the verge of crying, “Do you not like me anymore?”

Nothing. The answer is right there but Sonic says nothing.

Tails sounds terrified when asks another question after a brief pause, “Are you going to throw me out too?”

Never. 

Never.

Sonic will never understand those stupid, superstitious villagers who abandoned this sweet child because of something out of his control, chasing him out of every warm place he could find, starving him, abusing him like he wasn't even a person, looking down at him like he was some freak, sneering at him as if he was a curse — they make his blood boil to this day. Irrelevant, they don't matter. What matters is that Sonic will never be like them, Sonic will never abandon Tails, Sonic will never leave him behind. He will always wait for Tails and they will always stay together because that's just who they are; they're Sonic and Tails, they're the unbreakable bond. Nothing separates them. Nothing can.

And yet…

“I'm scared…” Tails sniffs, “It hurts.”

That gets Sonic's head snapping up, eyes wide open as he uncurls to reach for the kit, looking over him to find any injury that may be causing him pain that he hasn't noticed yet. His chains move with him as he cups the younger's face in his hands — and oh Chaos, did he really use to be this small? — and tries to ignore just how cold he is as he gently checks for whatever is wrong.

“It hurts, Sonic…” The kit cries as Sonic uncovers the bleeding wound that was previously hidden by the tail wrapped around the boy's blood-covered torso. Sonic gulps, finding himself unable to breath at the amount of red staining the cream fur. The wound spans over more than half of Tails’ torso with no signs of the bleeding to stop anytime soon.

It's so unfair.

He hasn't even taken the kit in his arms yet and Tails is already… 

“Sonic, please—” Big, fat tears roll down Tails’ muzzle as Sonic wordlessly gathers him in his arms and hastily pulls him to his chest. Tails’ ear flickers with something red as he is moved but Sonic chalks it off as another injury he missed while Tails wraps himself around the hedgehog's middle like his life depends on it. Tails buries his face in Sonic's chest as his voice cracks, “I don't wanna be here anymore.”

“S-Sonic,” Tails calls him again but Sonic doesn't say anything. The hedgehog puts a hand on the boy's back and cradle his head with another as he slowly begins rocking the kit back and forth. None of it helps Tails, “Are you listening?”

He sounds so lost, so desperate. 

“I-It hurts… You promised me… You promised you'll save me,” His claws dig into the hedgehog's sides, “Sonic, why aren't you saving me?”

Sonic just rests his face on Tails’ head, nuzzling into his fur as he holds him tight enough that it must hurt. The kit cries and claws, sputtering out words that each feel like a new dagger stabbing Sonic's heart before being mercilessly twisted out. He hates it. He loathes it. He wants nothing more than Tails’ suffering to end.

He doesn't say anything.

At least that way, he can pretend the little body in his arms going still and lifeless doesn't hurt as much as it did the first time. At least that way he can ignore the tears that fall unprompted from his eyes.

_____

It happens again.

It always does.

The door opens with a screeching noise, footsteps sound against the metal floor. They stop somewhere before him.

This time he looks up.

He's met with the masked face of the jackal.