When people get a little too gung-ho about-

wait. cancel post. gung-ho cannot be English. where did that phrase come from? China?

ok, yes. gōnghé, which is…an abbreviation for “industrial cooperative”? Like it was just a term for a worker-run organization? A specific U.S. marine stationed in China interpreted it as a motivational slogan about teamwork, and as a commander he got his whole battalion using it, and other U.S. marines found those guys so exhausting that it migrated into English slang with the meaning “overly enthusiastic”.

That’s…wild. What was I talking about?

I LOVE SCHIZOPHRENICS, GIVING TEENAGERS HRT, REFUGEES, FREE HOUSING FOR ALL AND SHITTY GRAFFITI.

every time i draw these fuckers it comes out different . >:/

goodnight doodle

if u want to practice colors... burning blaze?

im not super proud of this but. here ya go nonnie

guys how do we feel abt this amy design ive been screwing with colors for like 45 minutes and im abt ready to give up

silly lineless practice idk pretend theyre doing a magical girl transformation

waawawawa

KEEP A LOOK OUT FOR THE BLACK HEDGEHOG SHADOW WANTED IN CONNECTION WITH THE TERRORIST ATTACKS LAST SEEN IN DOWNTOWN WESTOPOLIS *smash cut to the cutest guy youve ever seen*

uhhh 💥

faker

NOOO i hope u recover well eli super sayin sonic :( request of One tiny sonic. miniscule if you will

☝️ molecule

Wishing you a quick recovery!!

If you're not too zonked out, I'd love to see a little Tails doodle 💕

cleaned up this tails doodle from a bit ago for u :] thank u !!

Can you draw Surge the Tenrec?

hi nonnie its been a bit since u sent this so hopefully ur still here uhhh this is Not a new drawing but tbh burnout kicking my ass and i wanted to give u somethin .. so here she is

uhhh sa2 ending on the brain… gonna drop this and run

Keep reading

scene im deleting from a fic draft bc its no longer compliant with plot plans but i liked it so im posting it :)

“It's a miracle he's alive,“ they say. A ridiculous notion, they’d realize, if only they knew more.

Rouge would like to think she knows lots about Project Shadow, a R&D commission that evolved into multiple artificial organisms classified in papers as government-owned WMDs. Papers stored and digitized detailing the mechanisms of chaos energy, the growth rate of monsters. She prepared to deliver the crown jewel of the stack, a report on the condition of the final Subject, P-610 “the Biolizard.” Its visage remained in her mind. Toothless gums poking out from behind scaled lips, its vacant expression leaving wide the empty orifices stuffed with tubes where eyes should be. On life support, the scientists said. Barely self-sustaining, with an aggressive demeanor and no apparent intelligence. The Biolizard should've been a dead end, cause for directional reconsideration. The Professor seemed to think so, but there was critical success in a single area: it just wouldn't die. So they locked it up where no one but the trustworthy tight lips had to look at it, and the report went into the dustbin servers.

Originally, all of it had gone in one ear and out the other, the only things lingering between what she could use as leverage for more valuable information. Fed bullshit, worth only what she could get paid for it, she told herself in front of the ARK's console. Then they started falling out of the sky.

Shadow's alive, they said. A few broken ribs, skin gnarled with burns, dead quills galore. But without the donated Chaos Emerald, it would've been much worse.

She can't get it out of her head. The Biolizard's gaping, tongueless mouth and the way the skin surrounding its eye holes crept around the tubes, like it was trying to grow around them. The underlined, circled text summarizing the scientists' report, the lone success. It burns.

The papers in her lap crunched in her hands. Subject P-618. An improvement from it's prototype in every way. Shadow is curled up on his side, paws clutched to his chest, cradling something invisible. His breathing is rhythmic.

With enough exposure to chaos energy, he'll wake up like all he'd had was some unpleasant nap.  

”It's a miracle he's alive,“ they said, unknowing of what dangled at the tip of Rouge's tongue. Biologically immortal. It wasn't a surprise. She knew he'd survive atmospheric re-entry. She'd found the proof, right here in her hands, after the fact. It'd been ridiculous anyone thought otherwise, and they should feel like idiots for worrying.

She's not in control of her own body, sitting here with her ass parked in an uncomfortable chair. Why can't she stop staring?

This feeling is new and terrifying. It clogs her throat, bites at her eyes, and makes her chest constrict. Like for 29 hours she'd lost something valuable, immeasurable in carats and irreplaceable with money. Something had dug into her, the moment Sonic returned to collect them alone. She's sick.

Shadow is the cause, she's sure of it. She knows lots about Project Shadow. Dug through G.U.Ns databases for hours today so she would know more. Something about Shadow is contagious. Some disease he imparts onto others. The intelligent course of action would be to evacuate the danger zone.

She manages to tear her eyes away, but can't leave. She doesn't want to.