@reidlurker tagged my Mighty and Ray Week fic with Immoveable Bond and now my brain won't stop. It's so perfect for them and it matches Sonic and Tails' Unbreakable Bond tag and their parallel dynamics so well.
Now I have to know what other names for the other adopted sibling teams we can make up
Sonic + Tails - Unbreakable Bond
Mighty + Ray - Immovable Bond
[These were given 5 seconds of thought, so bear with me]
Blaze + Marine - Unsinkable Bond, or maybe Esteemable Bond (cuz water+fire make steam)
Surge + Kit - Unshakable Bond (Hear me out, very slight alteration on Sonic+Tails' and these two were copies supposed to supplant them)
*pointing at dart board covered in pictures and red yarn, sweating bullets and breathing heavily* DO YOU SEE THE VISION??
FUCK romantic rarepairs, I be making platonic Rarepairs up in here, dare I say FOUND FAMILY rarepairs
GUYS GUYS look, shes like… the new A.R.T, OR EVEN HIP?? DO YOU SEE WHAT IM SEEING?? They both like to tinker, and they would teach each other stuff and uhhhh Manic will install jet boosters on motobud LMAOOO
Guys am I crazy or would Manic and Belle be homies?? Manic could be like… her big brother… dare i say parental figure?? Big brother who raised her even tho he didn’t raise her LOOK. Manic is the Sonic to Belle’s Tails…. Not at all but also like yes, same genre of bond but diff dynamic, you catch my drift??
I feel like they could bond so deeply bc they have similar hobbies and both of them have chronic self doubt, and they would both be like “wtf why ur literally so epic??” YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN?? Manic is no stranger to bonding with robots, and having robots bond to him, let’s just hope this time the robot doesnt fucking KILL THEMSELVES
Ok that was a tangent, I need to keep my head in the game
You see what I’m talking abt tho, right? Like they would connect so easily, and manic is cool with belle wanting to be independent so he supports her as much as he can without y’know, making her feel dependent
I can’t explain myself well enough, you just have to trust my vision okay, plz plz, trust me guys, plz
HOLY WALL OF TEXT MY GOD, yeah im not cutting that down im lazy
Glad ya and aealzx got a kick out of my confession.
LISTEN, IN MY DEFENSE THIS IS TUMBLR. THE LAND WHERE THE GIRLS AND THE GAYS CRAVE EITHER TWINKS OR OLD MEN.
Honorable thief? More like... Thief of my heart??? (WHEN HE'S A DECENT PERSON AND/OR FICTIONAL AMIRIGHT????)
*does the Debby Ryan* Bbg don't worry, I'll treat you sacred like an ancient Egyptian. *Gets brutally murdered by Manic*
HELLO DARLING!
This is genuinely my favorite thing I've ever been told about something i worked on xD We love a cranky guy that the universe pointed at and said "THATS A FATHER"
Manic, honestly, would probably perish from laughing so hard if someone told Ferrell this. Ferrell would be deeply confused, he doesn't go online much.
The one you gotta look out for is Margo. She will kill you.
anyways, this is for you <3
idk what theyre all dolled up for but i hope they had a good time
On Sonic Underground, there’s an episode where Manic has to take care of a baby hedgehog that, spoiler alert, turned up to be a robot created by Robotnik to trick the triplets. By the end of that episode, the baby robot ends up breaking into pieces.
Headcanon: Manic, who gets very attached to the bot in the episode, went to pick up the pieces afterwards. By then, it was too risky to even attempt to repair it; he needed to make sure to take out anything that Robotnik could use to keep using him. Once he left Mobotropolis, after the war ended, he finally could focus on trying to bring the baby hedgebot back, eventually managing to repair it. Manic is now focused on developing Hip even more, creating new bodies for him to mimic normal growth, and trying to give the little robot a life.
Looking through my old sketchbooks yesterday and found these little beauties.
I drew these out waaaaay back, right before the 2nd movie came out because I was desperately hoping Knuckles and Tails would get adopted by Tom and Maddie. Now here we are waiting on the fourth movie and a Shadow the Hedgehog series and the family being canon!
I seriously might need to redraw these at one point now that I have my art pad. And also since my drawing style has gotten better I feel. ) I went ahead and added for the comic drawings to have text so they can be read easier.
This was from a while back, from a discussion in the discord server about Knuckles growing up all alone.
Little Knuckles, looking into a pool of water to see what he looks like, and creating dolls from dried grass or wood. Using berries to die them the right shade of red.
But he's not quite sure how to play with them, because that would mean understanding interaction with other intelligent beings like him.
So he just play acts things he does with the chao and flickies.
When he hurts himself, he pretends one of the dolls are hurt, and says nice things to them, holding them in a way that he thinks would feel nice if someone held him.
He has no concept of parents, likely doesn't even know the word for them, so he doesn't play house or pretend they're his mother and father. They're just . . . other hims.
He sees the murals in the ruins. He sees the many echidna depicted there. He doesn't know where they went, or why he's the only one. But he knows there should be more, like there are more flickies and chao and other creatures roaming the island.
And there's little bit of anger gnawing at his belly.
Why is he the only one??
So he makes dolls. Dozens of them, and places them around the ruins, like he sees in the murals. Maybe makes them little accessories, little brooms or bowls or whatnot like the pictures in whatever texts have survived. And he populates the ruins with these little dolls, these artificial others like him.
They have no names--he has no concept of individual names--but he waves to them as he moves around the island, talks to them, tells them of his day.
And he pretends they talk back. Pretends they care about him. And he can push away the feeling he doesn't have a name for, the one that makes his chest feel tight late at night, when it's quiet and he gazes up at the black sky overhead. Watching the stars blink and twinkle.
But maybe, after a while, he can't pretend. Maybe one day he catches himself waving and talking to a little doll, a roughly carved log he'd painted red with the berries from that grove to the east of the shrine. And reality suddenly hits him.
It's not going to wave back. It will never wave back. It never moves unless he does it, it doesn't speak to him, it doesn't care about him.
It's just a thing that's just as dead as any of the rocks on the island.
He's alone. He's always been alone. And no matter how much he wants to pretend otherwise, he'll always be alone.
And anger boils inside him, a rage unlike any he'd felt before that, mixed with sorrow and pain and self-pity, and he lashes out, destroying everything he'd made. All the dolls, all the little accessories for them, any little thing he'd created to make himself feel less alone.
And after his little destructive streak, he slumps down among the ruins of what had been his imaginary society. Broken pieces litter the area around him--the remains of his second civilization. Gone to join his first in extinction.
He's so angry. So frustrated. He doesn't have a word for how he feels. All he knows is his chest is so, so tight, and he feels like he may throw up. Tears prick his eyes and he wipes them away roughly with the heel of his hand. What's the point in crying? Who's going to see? Who's going to comfort him?
Who's going to care?
No one.
No one will see. No one will comfort him. No one will care.
But that doesn't stop the tears flowing down his muzzle, nor the sobs that break through that block in his chest. The little echidna child, all alone on this floating paradise, sits among his lost people, those from the past and those from today, and cries.
~~~
Talk turned to how he would feel seeing other kids being excluded. Which moved into a different bit of writing.
~~~
The little girl sat to the side, away from the other children. She had her back to the rest of the playground, not wanting to see how much fun the others were having without her.
This wasn't the first time she'd been shoved away. No one ever wanted to play with her. She knew why--but she couldn't help the fact that she had a hard time speaking. That she couldn't get the words out properly.
She focused on the dolls before her. Her mother had bought them, thought they'd be a good way to encourage the other children to play with her. But the others had simply laughed at her, sneering at the dolls in her hands.
So she sat on the ground, running her thumbs over one of the dolls' faces. Over the ruddy cheeks, the little painted-on freckles, the happy smile.
She felt the first tears pricking her eyes and swallowed hard. Gaia, if she cried on top of everything else, it would be even worse.
Movement in front of her. She didn't raise her head. Probably one of the other kids, come to pick on her some more.
"I like your dolls."
She blinked. The voice was deeper than she expected, and she looked up to find not another child, but an adult. Well, an adult compared to her. She couldn't place what species he was, but he had pretty purple eyes.
"Huh?"
He stood with his arms crossed, and a little half-smile on his lips. When she'd spoken he gave a little huff of a laugh, and moved his hands to rest on his hips.
"Your dolls. They're nice."
She looked down, as though reminding herself of what he was talking about. "They are?"
He nodded, lowering himself into a hunker. "They are. I used to have some, but I made them myself and they didn't look nearly as nice as yours."
A little burst of warmth lit up in her chest, and a small smile touched one corner of her lips. "Really? You made dolls?"
He nodded with a smile, dropping himself to sit in front of her. "Yep. I didn't have any friends growing up, so I had to make my own."
She lowered her head slightly. "Oh. I don't have any friends, either."
He shook his head. "Not true. You have these lovely ladies." He picked up the other doll. "What's her name?"
Her cheeks flushed. Names were hard for her, so she'd just called them what she saw outside her bedroom window. "Sunflower."
"Hello, Sunflower," he said, turning the doll to face him. "I'm Knuckles." He flicked his eyes to the doll in her hands. "What's that one's name?"
"Moss."
"Good to meet ya, Moss." Silence settled for a moment, and he caught her gaze. "What's your name?"
She pulled her lips tight. Her mother told her not to talk to strangers, but he seemed really nice.
But still.
"Mm . . . my mom says I shouldn't tell strangers that."
He seemed to consider that, and nodded.
"Good point. Your mom's right. You shouldn't. That could be dangerous. Trusting just anyone is a good way to get yourself hurt."
She lowered her head slightly. "That's what she says."
He nodded again. "It's okay, you don't have to tell me." A pause. "Can I play with your dolls with you?"
Her head snapped up, and she looked at him with wide eyes. "You . . . what?"
He shrugged. "You looked sad and all alone. I know how that is." That little half-smile was back, and he lifted the doll in his hand. "So why don't you tell me a little about Sunflower and Moss?"
She narrowed her eyes, studying him for any signs of bad intentions, or teasing. He sat there, looking back with a calm expression, just letting her decide the next step.
After a moment, a little smile spread across her face, and she sat up straighter, lifting her doll to show him.
"I got Moss first," she said, excitement edging her tone. "Mom got her for me for my birthday. I was so excited, I didn't think she would . . ."
She went on and on, telling him about every adventure she'd taken Moss on, almost losing her on one, and when Sunflower had joined the family. The more she spoke, the faster she did, her chest feeling warm and light at having someone who was interested in her for once.
After some time, another little girl came running over to them, her long ears swinging behind her as she rushed toward the red man.
"Mr. Knuckles!" she exclaimed, her hands clutching his arm. "I'm so happy to see you! I didn't know you were--" She paused, as if only now realizing there was someone else there. "Oh! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt!"
"It's fine," the man said, before turning toward her. "She was just telling me about her friends here."
The rabbit girl looked down at the dolls, and her eyes went wide. "OH MY GOSH THOSE ARE SO CUTE!"
"And they have had such interesting adventures!" he said, before looking back to her. "Think you could tell my friend all about them?"
"I'm Cream!" the rabbit said, shoving her hand out in front of her. "It's a pleasure to meet you!"
She looked from the offered hand to the rabbit's face, then to the man's. Swallowing down her fear, she reached out a hand of her own. "I'm Hazel."
"I'm so glad to meet you, Hazel!!" Cream grabbed her hand and pumped it twice, hard. "My mother has a picnic lunch ready, would you like to come?"
Hazel blinked. ". . . really?"
Cream nodded. "Of course! I want to hear about your dolls and show you Cheese and Gemerl!" She seemed to think for a second before turning to the man. "Oh! Would you like to come, Mr. Knuckles? Mother brought plenty."
He shook his head with a little chuckle as he pushed himself to his feet. "No, I should be heading off. But you two have fun."
Cream turned back to her, eyes wide and pleading. "Oh please come, Hazel!"
She paused a moment before nodding. "O-okay."
The rabbit let out a little squeal, before grabbing Hazel's hand and practically dragging her away.
Hazel turned to look back at the man, and found him smiling as he turned and walked off.
2087
janainaart
theartofmadeline
snowghoul
