#violence/

[unikhroma]

SPAMTON HOUSE: Tell Me More

entry 3: miles makes a quick stop back to the house to get some answers from spamton.

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credits and additional info below:

you can find the credits along with a Q&A here. they’ll be updated as necessary.

--

this one shouldn't have taken the time it did, but i got sidetracked by original work! i'm happy that i have the drive to draw ocs again but i guess it came at the cost of this taking longer

i'm really happy with how this ended up though! hope you all enjoy it as much as i do

[viacursecasting]

Sonadow Scenario #76

Requested by anonymous

Savior.

Dammit...

Shadow panted from overexertion, wiping sweat from his brow. No matter how hard he punched or kicked, no matter how fast he fired bullets or Chaos spears, Mephiles was always one step ahead of him, blocking and evading every blow with ease.

At one point Shadow threw a punch, but Mephiles countered, using the agent's momentum to hurl him into the dirt. Shadow cursed, using what little strength he had left to prop himself up.

The crystalline foe let out a deep laugh, which reverberated eerily throughout the abandoned cave. "Have you forgotten, my dearest doppelganger? You and I are one and the same."

"We are nothing alike," Shadow spat.

Mephiles kneeled to meet his gaze, lifting the agent's chin with a clawed finger. "Then explain how I know your every move."

Shadow suddenly threw a fistful of dirt toward the villain's face, but Mephiles dodged that as well, grabbing the lifeform's wrist before throwing him over his shoulder.

Landing on his back with the wind knocked out of him, Shadow struggled to catch his breath, coughing so violently he tasted rust.

Mephiles loomed over his fallen form. "For ages I've had to endure your likeness. To never quite feel like my own person. Imprisoned in your image." Though he had no lips, one could hear his wicked smile.

"But this is where you belong," he declared. "In my shadow."

He conjured a jagged spear, readying to pierce it straight through Shadow's heart—

Suddenly there was a flash of light, and the weapon was knocked out of his grasp.

"What the—?"

Before Mephiles could utter another word, he was rammed with brutal force into the cave's wall with a deafening crash!, leaving a crater.

The dust hadn't even settled before Mephiles was suddenly getting knocked around in all directions at light speed. He grunted as he tried to fight back, but his fists and projectiles met nothing but trails of golden light.

In a desperate last resort, Mephiles charged himself up, his crystals glowing radioactively, before he expelled hundreds of deadly shards with an explosive battle cry.

However, a radiant golden shield was formed, reflecting the shards back at the villain...

And into his heart.

Mephiles staggered back, bloodshot eyes wide with bewilderment as he stared at the makeshift dagger jutting out of his chest. He pricked it as if to confirm its existence, and his finger came away slick with onyx blood.

He chuckled lowly through the pain. "Well played..." he rasped as his body disintegrated into a puff of violet smoke, leaving nothing in its wake.

Shadow could hardly raise his heavy lids, but he felt an ethereal glow upon his face, one as warm as sunlight at golden hour. One second he was in agony, but the next he felt at ease, just knowing that the light was by his side. Only one person had ever made him feel like that.

"Maria?"

"Guess again."

That voice knocked a bit of sense into him. "Sonic?"

The hero's grinning face came into focus. "Stay still. I'll heal your wounds."

As Sonic got to work, Shadow couldn't help but fixate on the hero—his flowy quills that raised toward the heavens, his golden aura that outshone the sun, his rose-colored eyes that sparkled brighter than rubies. His power hummed like a reassuring melody. Not to mention his chiseled form...

Let's just say the agent didn't stop his eyes from wandering.

Even though Sonic only hovered his hand over Shadow's body, the warmth that coursed through his veins invigorated him, gave him new life. However, it wasn't enough.

He felt as though he could bask in the hero's golden glory for eternity.

"Breathtaking..." Shadow murmured.

Sonic ear perked. "What was that?"

Shadow averted his gaze. "You're taking... too long..."

Sonic let out a chuckle. "Well, he did do a number on you..."

As Sonic finished up, he helped Shadow get to his feet. However, Shadow felt lightheaded from the sudden rush of blood and stumbled. Sonic quickly reached around his waist to catch him as Shadow wrapped his arms around the speedster's neck to balance himself.

They locked gazes, heartbeats pounding incessantly in their ears. He thought he was imagining things, but Shadow could have sworn that the hero glanced toward his lips.

Sonic noticed the lifeform redden, so he motioned to back away. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

But Shadow yanked him close, their lips meeting with a clumsy crash. They peppered each other with short, sweet pecks before slowly deepening each kiss, melting into each other's embrace.

Soon they found their rhythm, a waltz that was steady and even. It was new, yet somehow it felt familiar. Perhaps because they were used to each other's scents—Shadow's was flowery and exotic; Sonic's was citrusy and crisp. They had been in each other's arms before but only to carry the other to safety in the heat of battle. These caresses were full of care, of longing, with a hint of hesitation, as if they were handling glass.

It wasn't long before they grew accustomed to their touches, gripping a little tighter, to their whispered names upon wet tongues, moaning a little louder. Their breaths grew hot and heavy to the point where Sonic couldn't help but let out a whine, making Shadow groan against the other's muzzle, clutching him possessively.

The ends of Sonic's golden quills faded to blue, signaling his waning strength. "Shadow," Sonic breathed with a dreamy smile, "you're making me feel weak."

Shadow smirked, tilting the hero's chin to continue their lip-lock. "Then we'll be even."

[strawberryswitchblader]

intrusive thoughts are just so funny as a concept my brain will go “well what if you ran into this wall and you broke your neck and your skull cracked open and there was blood all over the place” and im just like ok *continues unloading dishwasher*

[yurious-george]

I really enjoy horror but maybe I should read less of it because I keep thinking about killing someone by ripping their throat out with my teeth. It’s a pattern

[swordofruln]

@emmetrain

Maybe he had wandered too far from safety, now that he could see his life flashing before his eyes like the light reflected from the sword-like fangs. He had never seen a Pokemon like this, not once. The legends he had read upon did not care to mention any felines with swordblades as fangs. A huge oversight, soon to become fatal if unintervined.

"I am Emmet," Emmet breathes out, shaky. "I don't know what I did wrong. I am ready to face my punishment, but... I cannot die. You see. I have a twin brother who is waiting for me to save him. I cannot die yet. And... I still need this body to be operational to find him. I cannot waste time either."

You smell of desperation and weakness. And you smell of a horrid merchant who dared disrespect me. That alone was your mistake. Guilt by association.

The words ringing in Emmet's head by telepathy were cold and filled with venomous disdain. The human was soft and pretty like a precious flower, both of which traits that meant nothing to Chien-Pao. All it saw was a target that dared smell of people it so hated, and of being too close.

A pathetic excuse for a living breathing being. He didn't even fight back! All he used were words. Shaky like reeds in a breeze they came out and brushed over the dark ice type, leaving it partially unfazed.

It's frosty blades pressed closer to Emmet's neck, only barely enough to lightly scratch his skin open and let free a small trickle of blood.

Give me a better reason not to smite you here and now. If you shall die, at least die a warrior's death and not that of a scared little rattata.

[an-organized-confusion]

Me writing this fic amused about thinking, “Gymrat!Virgil, I know you’re in the throes of Panic Mode. But shaking/slapping Remus out of a stage 2 hemorrhagic stupor is NOT helping matters.“

(Don’t worry, he gathers enough sense to get EMTs on the scene. This is finally how Remus gets formally diagnosed with PCOS. Oh yeah, and Remus’s undiagnosed/treated PCOS and ADHD are probs big reasons for why he’s in the Insomniac Trio in the first place.)

-

The reason this is just funny to me and the co-conspirator is how iZ!Remus gave Roman the “Airplane!” treatment waking up from a nightmare.

In both cases it’s coming from a place of legitimate love and concern. (Watsonian POV.)

... it’s just hilarious bit of terrible physical comedy for me. (Doylist POV.)

[animentality]

[victusinveritas]

[willabee]

[prokopetz]

The real reason your sapient dragon character needs a "rider":

Dragons on the wing are vulnerable to being mobbed by smaller, more agile flyers, particularly in your large rear blind spot, like a bird of prey being mobbed by crows. Having a human armed with a long spear perched on your back helps to dissuade anyone from getting any funny ideas.

Breath weapons are impressive enough on the ground, but in flight they're really only good for strafing stationary targets; trying to use your breath weapon in an aerial dogfight is a good way to get fire up your nose. A real fight calls for sterner measures – and, concomitantly, a crew to aim and reload the cannons.

In today's competitive world, it's not enough to devour a flock of sheep and call it a day if you want to keep your edge. You're accompanied at all times by a qualified personal alchemist tasked with carefully regulating your internal furnace to ensure peak performance, and sometimes you even listen to them.

No dragon of any quality would be caught dead without their valet. It's not as though you can announce your numerous long-winded titles yourself when introductions are called for, can you? You suppose next you'll be expected to pick up the spoils of your conquests yourself, like a common brigand. Perish the thought!

[murderouswidowsmatter]

The problem with “senseless violence” narrative around the UnitedHealthcare CEO is that it ignores the inherent violence of the insurance industry. Denying someone lifesaving care is violence. Subjecting someone to drawn out periods of pain before treatment is violent. The industry is made up of millions of acts of violence everyday, with the CEO at the helm guiding it all. This is not unprovoked and it’s not an overreaction; it is just harder to ignore

[hello-there]

Communities are a new way to connect with the people on Tumblr who care about the things you care about! Browse Communities to find the perfect one for your interests or create a new one and invite your friends and mutuals!

[unikhroma]

woe, oc lore comic be upon ye

pummel has another dream with that weird guy in it, but this time it's not as novel

[anarchywoofwoof]

let's recap what we've learned about the United States in the last few days.

things that are terrorism:

allegedly shooting a healthcare CEO whose company generated more pure profit (not revenue, profit) in a year than the GDP of 94 countries, exclusively by denying coverage to people who pay for it

a 42-year-old mother of 2 using the wrong combination of 7 words during a heated conversation with a call center employee at a health insurance company who was in the process of denying her health coverage.

things that are not terrorism:

mass shooting in a Black church to incite a race war

going to a BLM protest specifically to kill protestors

a neo-nazi running over a crowd of people, killing a woman

targeting and killing 23 latinos in an el paso, texas walmart

killing 12 people in a theatre, shooting 58 others, rigging your apartment with explosives

a QAnon groyper killing 7 and shooting ~50 at a 4th of July parade

killing 3 people and shooting several others at a Planned Parenthood in defense of the unborn

stalking someone relentlessly and then killing them and their child despite months of the victim making police reports

any one of the 1,200 murders committed by US police yearly, the vast majority being minorities

tightening your border while ~100 immigrants (including children) drown every year in the Rio Grande

United Healthcare killing an unnknowable number of elderly people by using faulty AI to deny medically necessary coverage

Aetna killing a woman by refusing to cover her cancer care

Blue Cross killing a 6-year-old by denying her appendicitis surgery

Cigna killing a 17-year-old child by denying her liver transplant

the pharmaceutical industry killing half a million people with opioids in the name of producing revenues in 2023 that rivaled the GDPs of countries like Spain, Mexico, and Australia.

the United States killing 45,000 people a year because they can't access health coverage

make sure you keep this guide handy the next time you find yourself interacting with your insurance company or any other millionaire, billionaire, or an individual who is part of a protected class such as a CEO or president of a corporation.

[violetsandshrikes]

I met a girl when I was fresh out of high school in undergrad who frankly, annoyed me quite a bit, but I also had an inkling to continue to be compassionate to her given a few things about her life/background/family

I ran into her two years ago. Last week, her daughter turned 1. This girl, let’s called her “P”, is a really good example of why I never feel comfortable mocking trad wives

Her perfect trad husband, who was a shining young figure in the local religious community, volunteered in all sorts of groups, well loved in his workplace and everything else, beat her up at 1 month post-partum. I reached out to her after seeing her desperately asking for a stroller on a page, confused and slightly concerned knowing both of them came from wealthy backgrounds.

The reality for lots of tradwives living “perfect lives” is this: P was immediately ostracised. All the wealth of her husband and her family meant absolutely nothing if she wasn’t in favour and doing what she was told. Her child and her well-being didn’t matter. P, at 25 years old, was basically deemed an oopsie, and left on her own to figure out how to pay for herself, a baby, find housing, and every other task you can think of.

Having known many of these women (and supported many of these women), another factor most people don’t consider is this: they are intentionally raised to be helpless. When I immediately offered my support to P, she really needed it. This young woman needed to be guided through how to apply for government assistance, how to weigh up rentals and apply for them, how to apply for jobs, how to sign up for childcare. How to sign up for your own power and internet, and how to connect them.

It wasn’t that she was “stupid”, or incapable, or spoiled. While it looks like they’re being sheltered, in reality, these women are practically being held hostage. Sure, they might be allowed to learn things that are expected of them (see: basic cooking, baking, cleaning, child rearing, women’s bible studies, hosting, and so forth) but they are heavily controlled from family life into marriage life, and they are never given the opportunity or the reality of what many of us would consider basic adult tasks.

She’s doing okay now. Her daughter turned 1, is happy and healthy. They live frugally, but they have a roof over their heads and the essentials. I often babysit for her so she can attend counselling, or go to a woman’s support group. She is painfully aware that she has so much to learn about how to live as an adult.

I don’t envy tradwives, but I don’t find any joy in mocking them either. Even when they live the most picturesque lives, they’re also practically living a real life Jenga game. If (and often, when) it comes tumbling down, they’re screwed too, and they often have 0 skills to help themselves or find community (that again, isn’t carefully curated).

[dontmean2bepoliticalbut]