#Free Fire Mania

[heartsofminds]

i'm calling just to hear you scream - part i

"She’s tried to be positive. She’s tried to be kind. She’s trying to be the peacekeeper, but all of that falls out the window when her brother is bitching out everything that fucking blinks and breathes and Richie has slung a sledgehammer into the wrong wall that needed to be knocked down." or Natalie gets fed the fuck up and hires a hospitality attorney before everything else turns to shit. 

a/n: i couldn't help myself at all and had to bite by trying my hand at writing for carmy! what can i say? i love men with trauma that need to be cuddled like newborns! please enjoy the beginning of enemies to lovers to enemies back to lovers fic with a workaholic chef and an overly empathetic attorney. angst is my brand! i hope you enjoy!

Being the peacekeeper of your family is never something anyone ever sets out to be. 

One day you’re normal and live blissfully with the rose-colored lenses of naivety tinting life shades of bashful blush and magnetic magenta. The next day you’re diffusing a spitfire scarlett dispute between your anxiety-ridden mother and impulsively crude older brother while simultaneously taming the balloon of battered blue tears your baby brother sheds who observes from the corner; scared yet somehow unaware of the emotions sucking the oxygen out of everyone. 

At first, it feels good. It feels nice to be appreciated and turned to in moments of darkness. Helpfulness defines your livelihood and gives you the nameplate of the gold star child who can never do any wrong and always finds a solution. But then you realize that is what you ever really are, and you’re both hated for your inability to let things sour and for always having an answer despite uncertainty plaguing every course of action. 

Being the peacekeeper of your family is both a Medal of Honor, worn with pride and graciousness, yet a bullet wound wielded by shame and agony. The tenderness and hurt push on it until you can hardly stand it; half expecting pus to be seeping out in pale yellow heaps because the pain feels so real. 

There are no exit wounds. There are no breaks. There is no humanity or personal identity or room for self-discovery. 

A peacemaker is all you will be and all you will ever accomplish, and you’ll never say it out loud but it’s fucking exhausting. 

Being the peacemaker is something Natalie Berzatto never fucking asked for, yet here she is, playing project manager to her haywire (and sometimes freakishly obsessive) baby brother’s blind-eyed throw of a dart that manifested itself in asking Uncle Jimmy for an eight hundred thousand dollar loan with the promise to have it completely paid back within eight months. 

She’s not one to rain on a parade, but it’s hard to keep marching when your entire life has been putting out the fires of overly ambitious business ventures during unmedicated fits of mania. She had seen it with their dad, with their mom, and with Mikey. Carmen is the last needle needed to complete the fucked up haystack that engulfs their family. 

She’s tried to be positive. She’s tried to be kind. She’s trying to be the peacekeeper, but all of that falls out the window when her brother is bitching out everything that fucking blinks and breathes and Richie has slung a sledgehammer into the wrong wall that needed to be knocked down. 

Natalie has never thought of looking into Botox until now; when her face is set in a permanent scowl and her resting heart rate nears triple digits. Pete had been telling her for the past three weeks that she was doing amazing; that this was an impossible task to complete stress-free, and that the stress was “good” because it meant that she cared. 

Sometimes she doesn’t realize that not everyone has a mom who drives the fucking car through the den during Christmas Eve dinner nor does everyone have a mom who moves all the furniture to the backyard before having to leave for their oldest brother’s high school graduation. Not everyone has an older brother who blows his head off and doesn’t leave a note and not everyone has a younger brother who would lose his head if it wasn’t attached to his body and had his mouth that was spewing hurtful insults by the dozen.

Stress does not mean that you care. Stress means that your eyes are staring at the fucking Sun trying to see where the other shoe is getting ready to drop because there’s always another disappointment and always another phone call to make to the pharmacy for more SSRIs. 

Needless to say, Richie calling Neil “lard ass” on an antagonizing loop after he had pointed out the wrong wall was being destroyed was the last straw. Well, that and the fact she found a new patch of white hairs colonizing on her hairline the other morning. Constant shouted insults, gray hairs popping up overnight, and the colossal secret of a new infant making its arrival into the chaos in October weigh heavy on her. And she absolutely cannot afford to lose her cool and become the kind of bitchy and mean she knows that she’s capable of. 

Your phone number sits inside the LED-lit text thread of a friend she had known in high school. Becca was the older sister of Claire Cantor whom her little brother may have or may have not had a pathetic crush on years ago when he was in high school. 

She feels kind of grimy doing what she is; offering up information about Carmy to Becca to give to Claire who apparently thought her baby brother was the bee's knees (which, if she saw the way he was acting right now, Natalie knows she would run the other way). She doesn’t even think Carmen has the capability to think of anything outside of the restaurant and the menu and how royally fucked they all are. 

She can feel the dull ache of guilt in her chest that comes with knowing how unlikely anything is to come from this, and how wrong she is for pretending like her telling Becca where he grocery shops or if he has a girlfriend or if he was currently looking for someone to date would somehow tether Claire to a world where her and Carmen are a “thing” (because apparently “boyfriend and girlfriend” is too permanent of a word for Chicagoan twenty-somethings to use). 

But she’s doing it for the sake of everyone else! It can’t possibly be as gross and low-lived as she feels it is. 

Becca Cantor is insufferable and can only be taken in small doses, but she’s also a big wig junior partner at one of the most lucrative law firms in Chicago. Natalie hates blowing smoke up people’s asses who don’t deserve it (and in Becca’s case certainly don’t need it), but she desperately needs help and knows that she needs to figure something out before she fucks herself in such a deep hole that she couldn’t attempt to unfuck herself if she tried. 

Your official title is “junior associate” and you had been working at Becca’s firm following your graduation from Northwestern’s Pritzker School of Law a couple of years prior. Becca had said you were amazing; freakishly smart, funny, and hardworking. She also mentioned that you were the best kind of junior associate; the ones that know when to shut the fuck up and when to get the fuck out of the way. The addition added before the text conversation ended was how you were looking to get your foot into the hospitality legal field, and how you were willing to do anything concerning that for free fucking ninety-nine if it meant you would have some experience. 

Natalie sits with her lower lip worried between her teeth and her hands one tick shy of shaking. Her heart beats erratically despite lounging on her couch with the lights off and a re-run of That 70’s Show playing softly in the background. She makes a mental note to bring up the high resting heart rate at her next OB appointment. 

It’s because she’s pregnant. Yes. It has to be because she’s pregnant. 

She shouldn’t be nervous. It would be absolutely ridiculous to be nervous. She’s not nervous. 

She already ran the idea past Sydney and she agreed that they absolutely needed a lawyer in their back pocket. With all of the tax records fucked beyond belief, new workers being hired who actually knew their worth and wouldn’t tolerate not having an actual employement contract, and the lack of permits under their belt currently, a lawyer wouldn’t hurt if getting one turned out to not be as helpful as anticipated. Besides, Becca had said you were doing it for them pro bono which in turn meant free fucking nintey-nine. 

But Natalie had lied to Carmen about how much some fluted cocktail glasses cost to ensure that they purchased the cheaper ones so that she could run the numbers and figure out a way to put you on the payroll. Pro bono or not, you’re doing them a huge favor and part of her can’t put the peacekeeping to rest. 

Her fingers type and untype a novel of characters. She can’t seem to relax her mind enough to articulate what exactly she wants to say. She has one shot to not scare you off and not lose her mind in a fit of fiery rage and not have everything turn to shit and it be her fault. She has to be perfect. 

Fuck. She is nervous. 

Hi! This is Natalie Berzatto. I’m one of Becca Cantor’s friends and she referred me to you. I’m working on opening a restaurant and would like for you to swing by and discuss some things about it if you’re open to that! Please let me know. I’m looking forward to hearing back from you soon! 

Nat’s finger hits the blue “send” arrow in the rounded box of her phone screen the same time she pushes a gag to the back of her throat. She used to work at a marketing firm for Christ’s sake. Cold contacting people isn’t anything new and she’s usually not one to shy away from reaching out to anyone in her personal life first. But she can’t help the fact that she’s never been able to swallow the artificial bubble gummy niceness of reaching out to a complete stranger for the first time. She feels stupid and knows that she sounds even stupider but tries not to think about it. 

Besides, keeping everything together is never easy and she knows that she would be selfish for letting her discomfort prevent her from doing what she knows is best. 

Her breath is stuck in her chest as she eyes the open text thread to an unsaved number; her blue text message staring at her menacingly and breeding contempt as the seconds pass. She gasps loudly whenever she sees the gray bubbles pop up beneath it. Pete pokes his head into the living room with a tea towel in his hand and one of the ceramic plates they had eaten dinner on in the other. His eyes wear concern but he knows better than to confront his wife. Natalie was anything but sugary sweet when she was stressed and the influx of hormones as of late have not been helping. 

You see the message as soon as Natalie sends it. The unknown “312” number finds its way into your notifications and your eyes read over the words in a frenzy. You know that you’re intelligent. You graduated from law school for fuck’s sake, but for some reason you absolutely cannot comprehend the text you’re reading. 

Firstly, you were sure Becca hated your fucking guts. She was a junior partner that everyone hated being assigned to because she pushed all her work onto the associates and nothing ever seemed to be good enough for her. Part of the reason you had to take work home tonight was because she sent you an email with enough passive-aggressive undertone to know that these edits needed to be done now; never mind the fact that the time she took to type out the seven and a half page report about the original report probably took up so much time that she could’ve done the task herself. But yet you replied kindly and have been working through your brain fog and finger cramps since arriving home at six in the evening five hours ago. 

Secondly, hospitality litigation was absolutely above your pay grade. You had taken one elective course on it during your 2L year and did a two-week internship before the start of 3L simply because one of your friends wanted to go on vacation and needed to find someone to cover for them. You know jack shit about hospitality law and you don’t even know why Becca Cantor, of all fucking people, would be so willing to recommend you when she couldn’t care less if you lived or died. 

But of course, you can’t say no. You can never say no, and if this Natalie person was desperate enough to reach out to you via text at 11 PM on a Wednesday, she definitely needed help and needed it now. Besides, you would tell her that you do not need to be paid and if whatever she needs proves to be way too advanced for you, you can always help her find an attorney that knows what they’re doing.

Right? 

It definitely doesn’t mean that you’ll pull an all-nighter and research every aspect of hospitality law in Illinois that you can get your hands on. . .Or look up every department dealing with food and management regulations in the state. . .Or try and look at precedent cases. Your firm gave you unlimited access to West Law. Might as well use it for something slightly more interesting than trusts, estates, and contracts. 

You’re unusually pensive for something you know you would love to do. The ongoing battle as of late has been the dispute between seeking joy and wading in practicality; happiness or falsified peace? 

You rub your eyes with a roughness that would make your optometrist cringe. You know that staring at your computer screen five hours after your contracted work hours ended was the culprit for your dry eyes, but the hours you need are not going to bill themselves. Getting up to get your eyedrops will have to wait.

Replying to Natalie cannot. 

Your fingers type and untype; the feeling of texting back an unknown number foreign and unnerving. 

Thanks so much for reaching out and thinking of me! I would love to. What dates and times work for you, and where would it be best for us to meet? 

The text stares at you on your phone screen. Why do you sound so. . . corporate? Boring? Infantile.

She could probably tell you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about at all. The feeling of defeat rises in your throat but you ignore it and hit send instead. You’re trying to be better about that; letting your fear of uncertainty keep you from taking action. You’ve come to realize that the hard part isn’t doing the thing. It’s actually sitting in the aftermath of the “thing” and waiting for the rest of the world to catch up. 

You bite your lip so hard it begins to bleed and throbs with each pulse of watery blood that fills your mouth. The gentle suck you give it to stop the bleeding makes it partially numb. 

Fuck you, Becca. Fuck you, Becca. Fuck you, Becca. 

Natalie chirps when your text illuminates her screen. She gasps and sits up; startling Pete who had settled next to her after finishing the dishes. Her eyes curl up in the same way her lips do. 

Fucking finally. 

The world no longer feels like it’ll fall apart.

[ptn-imagines]

Can you do Suspect R x pre amnesia! chief? ik there's not a lot of content for her but they give such domestic married wives energy like

LOOK AT THIS. its fine if u dont accept, ther are PLENTY other ptn womens i thirst after so....

Oh, I will absolutely write for Suspect R despite her lack of content. In fact, I was hoping someone would ask!

Due to the lack of content on both her and Chief pre-amnesia, I ended up focusing more on the feelings they may have shared more than anything else, using the glimpses of Shepherd-12 we see in Shalom's interrogation as a guide. If this isn't to your satisfaction, feel free to send in another request! Praying that chapter 14 marks the return of the OG wife...

Suspect R x Pre-Amnesia!Chief

Once upon a time, her name was the one they loved the most. In a world where everyone wanted to use or betray them, she was the only one they trusted whole-heartedly. Shepherd-12 adored her.

As truths were unveiled and lies became unmasked and Shepherd-12 became more and more jaded to the world, she was the only one spared of hissing and biting. Only she could melt the icy protective layer upon the Shepherd’s heart, for only she could be trusted with it. Only she had pure intentions.

Secret trysts and rendezvous, the Shepherd was always so tense until the face of the nameless official melted away to reveal their lover, who perched on the edge of their desk like she belonged there. She did belong there. And the Shepherd abhorred the idea of belonging to anyone, anyone except for her. They would give themself over to her in a heartbeat, and they would drown in her, and it would be a sweet way to die.

They are a creature of Mania, but this Sinner is their salvation. She makes them feel human in a way that nobody and nothing else does, and they know that fate will never be kind to them so they relish these precious moments, and they love her eternally and devotedly and without regret nor restraint.

She loves them in kind for she knows this is what they need. They will never speak their thank yous aloud but she knows; how could she not? Even if the world should revile them, see them as monsters (and it did), the two of them would have each other. They need nothing else.

She holds them so close as though she attempts to meld their flesh as one. They greedily kiss her deeper, hotter, as though trying to exchange pieces of their souls with each entwined breath. She is both the untamed tempest that will inevitably drown them and the singular piece of driftwood that keeps them afloat in the storm.

Nothing else matters. Nobody else matters. Let the world burn to ash. The Shepherd would welcome it. The world is rotten to the core. So are they. Only she remains pure in an endless sea of filth. Only she is the truth among the lies.

“My dearest, your heart is becoming so black,” she whispered one night, and they didn’t know it then but this would be the final time they saw her like this. Her fingers caressed their face and they purred, leaning into the touch.

“They don’t deserve any more,” they breathed, nails digging into her back as though they were afraid they might slip through their fingers. “They can go to Hell for all I care. You’re the only thing that matters.”

She smiled at this and pulled them into another deep kiss. This one felt different, like a goodbye, but it was still filled with every ounce of passion and fire and desire and need and belonging they had come to expect. “You know it won’t end like this.”

“I know.” They detest the fact. She makes it bearable. She’s the only reason they haven’t torn the world asunder yet, because she is part of that world. “But you’ll be there, won’t you?”

She smiled. “Always. Don’t sleep for too long, or I might have to come and get you myself…”

…

Shepherd-13 always wakes from the dreams of these memories too soon, these ghosts banished with the rise of the sun over this corrupt city.

What was her name?

If they could choose anything to remember, it would be this.

[colourstreakgryffin]

Hi! Can I request cursed spirit reader who has a similar demeanor to Mahito? Maybe one where she shows Choso how to do hair and makeup? :3

Haha! This is so random but I’ll never reject a nice Choso request! Big brother alert, let’s gooooo~!

Choso- Styling Perfection

Makeup and hair you say? Choso doesn’t know this stuff, due to having only brothers. He never had a sister to call his own, so girly self-care is truly uncharted waters for him

For you, Choso has always liked how you cared for his remaining little brothers and after a while, he’s developed a crush on you. A cursed spirit that had the same intriguing mania of Mahito, after Mahito disappeared. You practically replaced him but you are more approachable

Choso found you taking care of your hair one day and his fingers instinctively combing through the thick strands, amazed by how soft it is. It kinda went out of hand when you shoved your hairbrush into his hand and had him brush your hair for you

Choso is beet red as he brushes your hair. You’re just so confident and you don’t care if it makes you look any certain way… he really likes that in such a person, even a cursed spirit

“Is this how you do it?” Choso softly chimed in after moments of silence, as he pulled away the rough bristles of your hairbrush from the now smooth, combed strands as his free hand had fingers tangled in the clumps in such a careful manner, he didn’t want to pull any of your hair out with his bare hands. Your hair is so pretty, your eyeshadow-decorated eyelids and lipstick-stained plump lips are always so pretty… it’s almost angelic for a being so corrupted and evil like you

“Yes! Now, be careful when you do style it! I don’t have a lot of hairties!” You respond with a rather eerily upbeat tone, hands reaching out for your disregarded makeup bag to begin pulling out the necessary utensils to begin dolling yourself up as you had always felt cute pastel makeup in colourful eyeshadow and glittery lipstick made you feel simply adorable. Out of everybody you knew from the little Cursed Spirit group, you wanted Choso to assist you with it

And he, for sure, did help the best he could as he places down his gentle hold on your hair to turn around to meet your gorgeous face as you hand him the now blush-dusted brush for him to dab on your cheeks for you. Choso’s own face was burning red, hotter than the grandest fire as he gently places the feathery hair-bristle on your soft, silky skin to lightly dust it until the soft glow of pink marked on your features, further highlighting your beauty whilst you hummed delighted and closed your eyes

His eyes scanned over to the open contents of your small standing makeup bag where he spotted a single mascara in a vibrant aquamarine hand-held container. He didn’t know what it was but he wanted to help put it on, he wanted to further decorate you in such amazing colours to make you shine. Rather you be twisted and corrupt afterwards, you’re simply so beautiful right now that Choso can’t keep it to himself

He never suspected he’d ever be able to watch you get ready, let alone help you get ready… he is in heaven and he almost can’t speak with how relaxed and lovestruck he is…

“Can I help put on that stuff in the aquamarine container too?”

[falloutboylyricss]

Fall Out Boy and Places

note: this post only includes names of specific places, both real and fictional

Evening Out With Your Girlfriend

"I'm deep with futures like Chicago / No, Glenview never meant a thing to me, she never meant a thing to me" - Growing Up

Take This to Your Grave

"Pete and I attacked the laws of Astoria with promise and precision" - Saturday

"Landing on a runway in Chicago, and I'm grounding all my dreams of ever really seeing California" - Homesick at Space Camp

Chicago Is So Two Years Ago (title only)

"But there's a light on in Chicago, and I know I should be home" - Chicago Is So Two Years Ago

From Under The Cork Tree

none

Infinity On High

"Put love on hold, young Hollywood is on the other line" - The (After) Life Of The Party

"And everyone's looking for relief, United States versus disbelief" - You're Crashing, But You're No Wave

"New York eyes, Chicago thighs, pushed up the window to kiss you off" - I've Got All This Ringing In My Ears And None On My Fingers

Folie à Deux

"Erase myself and let go, start it over again in Mexico" - I Don't Care

"Let's hear it for America's suitehearts, but I must confess, I'm in love with my own sins" - America's Suitehearts

Headfirst Slide Into Cooperstown On A Bad Bet (title only)

"Plant palm trees on Lake Michigan before it gets cold" - The (Shipped) Gold Standard

"Said, 'I'll be fine 'til the hospital or American embassy'" - What A Catch, Donnie

"And you're a bottled star, the planets align, you're just like Mars" - 27

"A Roman candle heart, keep us far apart" - Tiffany Blews

"Have you ever wanted to disappear and join a monastery, go out and preach on Manic Street?" - 20 Dollar Nose Bleed

West Coast Smoker (title only)

"Got my degree in the gutter, my heart broken in the dorms of the Ivy League" - West Coast Smoker

Save Rock And Roll

"Did you trip down twelve steps into Malibu?" - The Mighty Fall

"Bel Air baby, did you get dressed up?" - The Mighty Fall

"But we are alive here in Death Valley, but don't take love off the table yet" - Death Valley

"When Rome's in ruins, we are the lions, free of the Colosseums" - Young Volcanoes

"Americana, exotica, do you wanna feel a little beautiful, baby?" - Young Volcanoes

PAX AM Days

"Cargo and despair, all American made" - American Made

American Beauty/American Psycho

"You know you look so Seattle, but you feel so L.A." - Irresistible

"She's an American beauty, I'm an American psycho" - American Beauty/American Psycho

"Take me down the line, in Gem City, we turn the tide" - Uma Thurman

"In between being young and being right, you were my Versailles at night" - Fourth Of July

"There's a room in a hotel in New York City that shares our fate and deserves our pity" - Twin Skeleton's (Hotel In NYC)

MANIA

none

So Much (For) Stardust

Heaven, Iowa (title only)

"6 AM, Mulholland Drive, Moonlight Sonata and I" - Heaven, Iowa

Misc.

"I wanna put the Midwest home again" - Alpha Dog

"Sometimes, when I'm in Heaven, I get forgetful of the Earth" - Lake Effect Kid

"And joke us, joke us 'til Lakeshore Drive comes back into focus" - Lake Effect Kid

"I love you, Chicago, you make me feel so summer fling" - City In A Garden

"You know the world can get my bones, but Chicago gets my soul" - Super Fade

"Captain Planet, Arab Spring, L.A. riots, Rodney King" - We Didn't Start The Fire

"Oklahoma City bomb, Kurt Cobain, Pokémon" - We Didn't Start The Fire

"Nuclear accident, Fukushima, Japan / Crimean peninsula, Cambridge Analytica" - We Didn't Start The Fire

"More war in Afghanistan, Cubs go all the way again / Obama, Spielberg, explosion, Lebanon / Unabomber, Bobbitt, John, Bombing, Boston Marathon" - We Didn't Start The Fire

"Stranger Things, Tiger King, Ever Given, Suez" - We Didn't Start The Fire

"Elon Musk, Kaepernick, Texas failed electric grid" - We Didn't Start The Fire

"Great Pacific garbage patch, Tom DeLonge and aliens / Mars rover, Avatar, self-driving electric cars" - We Didn't Start The Fire

[fireburial]

𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐋: single muse, semi-selective, indie.

boku no hero academia: dabi （villain alias）# todoroki 𝐭͟𝐨͟𝐮͟𝐲͟𝐚. mid 20s. sociopathic & suicidal tendencies. severe burn scars. body horror. self-harm. past child abuse. identity crisis. mania. emotional regression. patricide. frankenstein's monster. rude & snarky demeanor. wild card. driven by vengeance.

“HE WAS ALMOST PERFECT.”

neglected, abandoned, forgotten: the tragedy of the oldest child of the todorokis. born with enormous fire power, TOUYA can generate and control highly destructive flames from his body, much like his infamous father, ENJI. the hero made it his task to train his son as his successor who would one day surpass him. but touya's body couldn't withstand the flames too long, the fire so hot that it turned blue, burning and eating away at his body in the process. and as such, enji decided to abandon the training and with that, touya too. presumed dead by his family after a certain incident, touya began to embrace a dark path, surviving in the underground. touya was dead and DABI was born. being part of a terrorist group called "the paranormal liberation front" also known as "the league of villains", dabi's goal is to get revenge on his father— and to burn down the society that failed him.

“ALMOST ISN'T GOOD ENOUGH.”

— stuck with @kettensaege

(manga-canon portrayal with some creative freedom. this blog/character is not affiliated with anyone and operates independently. feel free to write in english or german. i prefer writing novels on sideblogs, but i am always open for other options. alternative verses of this character tba.)

[thekidsare-not-alright]

just how wild is tourdust, you ask? more than you could ever know

Patrick plays whatever fuck all song(s) he wants on piano every night

Spotlight (Oh Nostalgia)

MANIA song, The Last of the Real Ones, permanent fixture on the setlist

Crazy train and Don't Stop Believin covers

Joe giving away free signed copies of his book via hiding them in seats

Date/venue-exclusive lyric tshirts

Clandestine merch??

We Didn't Start the Fire updated Billy Joel cover

What A Catch, Donnie

Grimace shakes

Giant floating dog head lip syncing

Save Rock & Roll permanent on the setlist

New live deep cut every night, no patterns detected, no repeats, code names on the setlists, brought to you by a fucking magic 8 ball

ginasfs. live.

Is it Hum or Take Over tonight you don't get to know

Michael fuckin Way played bass for Fall Out Boy during Saturday 7/1 what the fuck. What the fuck what the fuck fuck fuck fuck what the fuck what the fuck

prince and queen piano covers btw if you even care

Taylor Swift collab comes out next week can't wait for that collateral damage who knows what to expect

Calm Before the Storm permanent on the setlist

Pavlove about to be on spotify?

Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes every night.

btw this is the day after mikey liked a mcr5 tiktok

pete's magic trick idek

headfirst slide permanent fixture on the setlist in 2023 we made it happen

so many patrick hugs on stage

"spinning around you" *finger motion*

this is day 7

[tyrantisterror]

At Sea Without a Map pt. 35

There's no way to get out of this situation that doesn't involve setting foot on this island, so you decide to bite the figurative bullet and step off your boat. A quick survey of the impact sight shows no significant damage to your vessel - for a small little ship, it sure has proven to be a sturdy thing. Unfortunately, it's wedged into the bank really good, which means moving it will be a problem.

Of course, if this were a normal island, you could just focus on that problem, but since it is so clearly a monster in disguise, you have to make sure you don't rouse the sleeping beast as well. Taking a calculated risk, you walk around the outskirts of the "island," trying to make sure it's stable, asleep, and not hiding any threats you haven't noticed yet.

From a quick, cursory survey, the island seems to be pretty barren. No storks pretending to be trees, no weird birdy things, no hidden threats, just the giant spikes of whatever aquatic horror is hiding beneath the sand. You briefly try to convince yourself they're just rocks, and that this is a normal desert island that you don't have to be wary of, but looking at the damn things gives the ghost away. They're spikes, they're so clearly spikes, and try as you might you just can't live in denial about it.

What sort of monster is it, you wonder. The spikes kind of remind you of those old Japanese monster movies you used to watch when TBT did its Monster Mania Movie Marathon back when you were a kid, the ones that starred that big fire-breathing dinosaur. Or was it a turtle? A dinosaur turtle. That's probably not what this thing is, but the idea entertains you for a moment.

Whatever the creature is, it's seems to be content to lay still and continue its ruse. You wonder if it even notices you're here - there's a lot of sand on its back (presuming the sand isn't physically a part of it) to cushion your footfalls, so it may well have no idea there's a tasty little morsel crawling around on its back.

You return to your ship feeling a bit less panicky. There isn't an immediate threat to deal with at the moment, which means your back to one problem, albeit a tricky one: how do you free your boat without getting this creature's attention?

[zigcarnivorous]

🤠🎉YEEHAW WE GOT MATCH O MANIA RUNNIN WILD🐎🇵🇸

My dear friend Fidaa is a dedicated mother and a beautiful soul🪷She is so strong💪I can't describe. And she is even smarter than that!!🧠😳

Fidaa is struggling to even have good rest because she stays up with the sounds of bombs to comfort her children, tiny cupcake doll who loves animals🐶🧁Silaa and babyman Muhammad✊️.

The babyman himself is battling a fever right this moment! Fidaa is applying cool compresses and soothing him, she has an appointment for his medicine soon AND UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES CAN WE LET HER GO WITHOUT THE MONEY FOR THIS MEDICINE. Thank you for listening.

you may have seen me post about fidaa’s campaign @fidaa-family2 (this is a verified campaign)

graphic by @fading-event-608

fidaa is a 29 year old woman from gaza with two very young children, muhammed and sila, one of whom was born during the war. her home was destroyed and she’s been displaced many times, and is currently separated from the rest of her family- her husband, her many siblings, and her parents. i can only imagine how nerve-wracking this is.

she’s doing her best to take care of her children by herself, despite facing hunger, thirst, widespread disease, and the threat of death. the other day, there was intense bombing near her and another family close to her was killed. life in gaza right now is hell and she told me they feel like they are just waiting for their turn to die.

fidaa and i talk often, and i feel lucky to know her. she’s an incredibly strong person, she travels long distances to find limited supplies for her kids and helps her siblings raise money even though shes separated from them.

but she needs help. the situation in gaza is so bad right now, the idf is preventing aid from entering and the food, water, and medicine available are extremely expensive. please share and donate to help her and her children survive and eventually leave gaza

$18,738 out of $30,000

[blackjackkent]

Pushing north from the necromantic laboratory through the other corridors of the mind flayer colony, Rakha and her companions arrive in a long hallway lined with illithid pods.

"Mind flayers and civilians, side by side..." murmurs the guardian. "This must be where they infect and transform those they kidnap."

"This place," Minthara intones solemnly, "has been used to make slaves of those who should be masters."

Rakha shoots her a sideways look. Did Minthara inhabit one of these pods, once? Is that how she found the tadpole in her head and a commanding role over the Absolute's army of goblins at Moonhaven?

She remembers the pod on the nautiloid. Her earliest clear memory - staggering free of it to the smell of smoke and burning flesh and hot metal. The pain in her head and behind her eye. The blind terror of knowing nothing, nothing at all - not where she was, not who she was, not what had happened or what would happen...

At least she is not there anymore. She has Wyll next to her, and Lae'zel and Minthara. She has the guardian in her pocket. She knows some things - not many, but more. She's not alone...

She taps the control panel in front of one of the pods. Then another, and another. Memories flow through her, fragmented images left from those who have been tadpoled and transformed inside these devices.

Narrator: Courage... conviction... defiance. Even as her organs began to dissolve, she believed she could resist.

Narrator: Delirium... mania... laughter. His mind broke before the end, and he was laughing uncontrollably as the skin fell from his face.

Narrator: Desperation... pain... terror. Cultists raided his village. He was the sole survivor.

Narrator: Amusement... curiosity... fascination. He believed the horrors of Moonrise to be a fleeting dream that would fade on waking.

Narrator: Your lungs burn with the dry heat of the fires raging about you, but the pain is not enough to diminish your swing. one goblin after another falls to your blade. A man's voice cries out through the thick smoke. 'Ravengard!', you call, but the clang of swords and the spell-shouts of attacking drow are your only reply.

Narrator: This pod pulsates with the angry memories of Ravengard's search officer, Manip Shuurga. She laments her failure to locate him.

She slows in her movements. These last two have some resonance of familiarity. Images of the burning village near the nautiloid - Waukeen's Rest. The place where Wyll's father was taken. These people were there, and inside the pods, unlike the others, they are still alive, not illithid. Perhaps they know where he is. If she can open the pods--

"Zevlor," she hears Wyll say behind her, and the dismay in his voice distracts her from everything else.

"What?" she asks, and turns--

The teeth-ling leader from the Grove. The one Cerys said froze and betrayed them all in the cursed dark. He sits still alive in one of the pods; his head thrashes from side to side as if caught in the grip of some terrible nightmare.

Rakha brushes her fingers over the console in front of him.

Narrator: You remember the shattered windows of Elturel's High Cathedral, the burning black sky of Avernus beyond. In its horror, the Blood War unites you. Tiefling, dwarf, and elf alike huddle behind the shields of your paladin order, waiting for salvation. But when it comes... disunity. The returned city casts your people out - the devils who dragged them down to hell. In the end, it is not your paladin oath that is broken. It is your faith itself.

The images are fractured and dark and layered through with a great deal of pain. Bits and pieces of the memory tie into the small amount Zevlor told them of the teeth-lings' history. A city dragged into the hells. An exile afterwards.

She examines the final control panel in the room.

Narrator: Your tadpole forms a telepathic connection with the device, and a chorus of static energy fills your mind. Every mind flayer in the room calls out hungrily from its pod, seeking release - and sustenance. But there are others in the pods - those not yet infected, not yet illithid. Terrified. Desperate to escape. The device is open to your tadpole's command. To your authority.

(A/N: I love the way the narrator says that last bit. It's clear she's realized that au-thor-ity is basically a meme part of her narration by this point in the game. XD )

Lae'zel hisses warily. "Ghaik machinery. Cold as the Sea of Night, alien as time to the Astral Plane. Avert your eyes. Close your mind."

Perhaps under other circumstances, Rakha would listen and turn away. Even after all this time and the things that have rocked their friendship to its core, she still wants to trust Lae'zel's guidance in almost everything.

But Lae'zel didn't see that imagery, the memories from those in the pods. These people might know what became of Wyll's father. Rakha can't turn away from that. The things Wyll needs here are as important to her as her own goals.

More so, maybe...

Release.

Besides, she thinks, with deeply muted black humor as the pods begin to slide open, those that are already transformed... we can kill.

[jawz-idk]

My opinion and rankings of every Sonic Game, I will list every game down below in case you can't read the titles

(it goes from right to left)

Superstars wasn't on this list but it would be at the bottom of good

Yes, I think Unleashed is not only my favorite Sonic game but also my favorite game, ever, I know that's a pretty hot take but... I'm hot so idc ✨

Black Knight is so underrated yall, story is S tier Ost is one of the best and the gameplay is pretty fun, give it a try

Stay safe.

And yes I think the very first Sonic game (Sonic The Hedgehog 1) is shit... I'm sorry it was great for 1991, but now? Unplayeble in my opinion

This is all my opinions, if you disagree tell me why! Meeting people who agree with you is fun... BUT FIGHTING IS BETTER :>

The games:

Peak: Sonic Unleashed

The elit: Sonic Adventure 2, and Sonic And The Black Knight

S tier: Sonic Generations (my beloved 💛), Sonic Mania, Sonic Adventure, Sonic Colors, Sonic Cd(eez nuts)

Great: Sonic Frontiers, Sonic The Hedgehog 3 & Knuckles, Sonic Riders (2nd best racing game of all times)

Good: Sonic Lost World, Sonic Rush, Sonic Heroes (mid asf I'm sorry), Sonic advance 3, Sonic Dash (unicronicaly a banger), Sonic Advance, Sonic The Hedgehog 2, Sonic 06

Meh... : Sonic Chronicles: and thé dark brotherhood (I am the only person who has played this game ever I swear to god lmao) Sonic Riders Zero Gravity, Sonic Advance 2, Shadow The Hedgehog

Shit: Sonic And The Secret Ring, Sonic The Hedgehog, Sonic Racing, Sonic 3D BLAST, Sonic The Hedgehog 4 episode 1 & 2

The shit eating elit: Sonic Free Riders, Sonic Forces (what a constipation this game was) and Sonic Boom Rise Of Lyric

Never Played (oh god here we go):

Sonic The Hedgehog 1 & 2 for the master systheme, Sonic Chaos, Sonic Pinball, Sonic Drift, Sonic Triple Troubles (really gotta play the fan remake of that one), Knuckles Chaotix (seems good), Sonic Drift 2, Sonic Labyrinth, Sonic Blast, Sonic The Fighter (genuinely we need another Sonic fighting game), Sonic Pocket Adventure, Sonic Shuffle, Sonic Pinball Party (how many Sonic pinball games are there WTF?!) Sonic battle, Sonic Rivals, Sonic Rivals 2, Sonic All Stars Racing, Sonic Colors for the Nintendo DS, Sonic Generations for the 3DS, Sonic Jump, Sonic All Stars Racing Transformation, Sonic Lost World for the 3DS, Sonic Jump Fever, Sonic Boom Shattered Crystal, Sonic Runners, Sonic Dash 2: Sonic Boom (wtf is that), Sonic Boom Fire and Ice, Sonic Runners Adventure, Sonic Forces Speed Battles, Team Sonic Racing

I hate this

Stay safe.

[rippedstitch-s]

S C O R C H E D E A R T H .

Below the cut is a moment in the life of ASA HOLLAND, in his 4th floor apartment in Manhattan.

Please be aware of all trigger warnings before proceeding.

tw // murder, blood, gore, torture mention, medical malpractice

--- - -- --

Scorched earth.

His ribs are a burning church and the devil's set it on fire.

But the same hands pouring the kerosene are the ones that chase away the fumes. Tug his heart free and out just in time. Crisped by the lick of the flame, but alive.

Very much alive.

Too alive.

He feels everything too much.

It's a burden, now.

He yearns and aches and the pangs are now bullets. He staggers from each shot, but he stands. Leaning and frail, dripping black ichor onto a ceaseless floor.

Still stands.

There is blackness behind his eyes now. The shine of light, the reflection of sweetness, has faded like a candle burnt for too long.

The wick's been doused out in its own hot wax.

Consumed and encased.

Consumed is a good word for it - the way he’s trapped in mania. The enticing fingers of long shadows, the snapshot of puddles of blood. It's scorched into retinas.

Red likes to filter over his vision like he’s sitting in that darkroom. The photos hung in the darkness are unintelligible- just as black as everything else. Maybe bodies, maybe parts, but disembodied.

Every face is blotted into smudges like charcoal.

An illustrator sees art in the slaughtered and mangled. In the gnarled scab across his chest, the twisted fingers beneath ink and bandage. 

And absolutely in the demon who kisses and cleans him.

A lover who brings him to fever, then wipes his sweat-stained brow. Drains the bad blood from his body in his sickbed.

Medicinal, the comfort it brings.

Depraved, the thoughts it tugs through.

It's chiaroscuro; the shadows deep within the planes of his lover's face - dark, bold blots, no light until suddenly there's plenty. Whereas in his own, the cross-hatching of fine ink across Asa's nose, mouth, cheeks. Thin lines in meticulous detail. The building up of shade.

Forms of black and white, so different but a similar medium. fit for a gallery, perhaps a museum. 

Meant to be studied, really.

It’s in this creativity that his mania sits and holds out its hands. As the scratchy lines come in a fervor from charcoals and pastels, as blood drips from a lip bitten too hard and for too long in concentration. 

The mania smiles, and collects his pieces into an embrace.

It’s not too hard to connect the twisted body of his father scrawled on drafting paper to the ink blot that grows around him. 

Abysm, after abysm, after abysm. 

But with its arms it becomes...

Still. So still.

There’s no buzzing and pounding in his head. The oil spill has coated everything and muted it all in molasses. 

It's floating. No pain.

No pleasure, either. It just... is.

A finger finally traces the blood that’s streaked into graphite and chalky dust, realizing it’s there for the first time.

Thick, sap-like on his fingers as he traces another drop and watches it peter out into nothing. A streak of alizarin crimson - an artist's palette. Acrylics. Oils.

Such material is easy enough to find, if he wants it. If he searches for it. The texture is far better than most paints.

It's so still.

Has the clock stopped ticking on the wall, or is he deep in a state again? Is it the batteries, or is he... batty?

....he didn't used to be, did he?

It's his father's fault. In his hopes of avoiding his son's insanity, he ensured it and came face to face with it.

Conor Holland died for his crimes against his son. As he should have.

Dr. Hartley. Torture. Medical malpractice. Defunct equipment. Killed. As he should have been.

Romeo Valtori. Apartment manager... rude. Misogynistic. Disgusting. Killed as well. Goodbye.

Maybe it's not so difficult to find people who deserve it. Just squint and there they are.

Laid out in funny little rows.

More red for a palette. More bodies for the ink blot on the kaleidoscope. More peace, more stillness.

A win win.

The church's charred remains fall. Debris everywhere. An explosion of fire and brimstone.

Yet his heart beats, thrums in the hands of a killer. A lover. He holds it so carefully for someone so cruel.

A ribcage can be rebuilt - the church can be reconstructed.

And the burning just smells like winter, and hydroquinone, and a night wrapped in silk sheets.

Peace. Stillness.

[scarlet-witchery]

Ian Gallagher's worst enemy is in his own mind. Warning for a thorough depiction of bipolar disorder, both mania and depression. (ao3)

A fire storm swirls in your mind and it's like an itch under your skin. A screaming in your veins that you're desperate to tear out. White noise everywhere and you can't, can't stop feeling it. You've never been on a roller coaster before but this has to be what it feels like—you can barely hold on, fingertips slipping, and all you can do is laugh. A grin on your lips, splitting open, all harsh and feral like some wild thing that can't be trapped. It can't contain you—it sets you free.

But there's a pulsing in your blood, too; a fury that seems to pace back and forth. That's where the caged animal lives, at the back of your mind beneath the laughter and drugs and sex. Always searching, needing a way out. It slips, now and then, the key to the cage. That's when the knife ends up in your hand, pressed to that bastard's throat and all you want is to let your arm do what it will no one will miss a piece of shit like him—

"Ian-"

A voice, a hand, a flash of worry in a pair of eyes so blue. Lake Michigan eyes. Mickey reaches carefully, so carefully for your hand. The glint of the knife catches your eye. Your blood boils, remembering what brought you here—a blackened eye, a bloody lip, a shattered girl who you love so much—but in a breath it's gone. Out of your hands. So many things are out of your hands but you could have done this. No. Mickey won't let you and Mandy would cry. You can't make her fucking cry.

Sometimes the storm in your head hurts like a pressure cooker, building up steam and exploding when you least expect it. You laugh about it, a laugh you see your family flinch away from. A laugh that darkens those Lake Michigan eyes. But you've never felt more you than right now. At the top of the roller coaster is the best kind of view.

Until the fire in your mind consumes you whole, brings you crashing down to earth in free fall. Like you hit the ground and there's something, something heavy on your back. You don't want to move it. You'd rather lay here and fucking die. Some moments you think you just might. The burn and the crash, the sluggish feeling as your blood seems to ooze through your veins, more molasses than quicksilver. You can't move. You won't move. You don't move.

Lake Michigan eyes catch yours but your gaze slips away. He speaks but words are useless. You close your eyes to shield yourself. Sleep—fucking sleep, when's the last time you had any fucking sleep?—is all you want, all you need. The blankets like a heavy weight over you. All you want is silence. You want relief.

Words seem to cut through the fog that's formed in your brain, the aftermath of the fire storm that's raged for fuck knows how long. It hurts to think. It hurts to move. If you cared enough those words might bite, might sting. But instead you let yourself be pulled under, tossed into the deep, sinking down. Down.

Down.

You could let yourself drown in Lake Michigan eyes.

[artdivadej]

Survivor’s Remorse (VII)

Part Seven

NSFW| 18+| Death

Part 8

I watched Peeta dozing almost peacefully with his gun across his lap. I'd been rather captivated by a small bead of sweat that'd escaped the curls at the nape of his neck. It was traveling down his neck in a snake dance down the column of his throat, down around his Adams apple to rest in his collar bone. Then I feel an instinct awake within me that forces me to my feet. I quirk my sharp ears and focus down the shaft trying to get used to the night vision these eyes give me. I needed it right now. Something was very wrong. Then I feel it on the nape of my neck, just behind my ear, tickling an aggression within me I didn't know existed. It made me want to rip something apart. It was a pure malicious wave that rolled through some part deep inside of me.

"Peeta"

It's a hiss. A vicious malevolent hiss.

"Everybody, get up now!" I whisper as loudly as I can while tugging my restraints against the bar

They're on their feet in seconds.

"What? What is it?" Peeta asks releasing me from the bar before the hiss comes again

"Peeta"

"Mutts" I gasp fighting the mania filling me with a scorching rage that I knew was not my own "What's the fastest way out to the street?" There's no way they haven't flooded the underground with them. We need to get to the streets now. I direct my gaze to Polluck. "Quickly!"

Polluck directs us forward and as we run, I hear the screams. Avoxes.

"They're killing anything they can get their hands on trying to find us" Gale pants

Johnson is snatched and that's when I get a good look of the mutt. Ashen white, limbs unnaturally long that lead down to sharp claws for hands. No faces but wide mouths full of razor-sharp teeth.

"Finn my claws!" I snarl to him at my left, mapping out our escape routes as we can

He doesn't even have to look anymore as he deftly unhooks them and frees my nails, extending the middle so I could spread my arms as far as my outer hips. It's all the give I would need.

Mutt to mutt. Bring it on.

As we run, we spot the ladder and Pollux quickly begins to climb. Peeta and Gale are right behind him. They're coming from all four tunnels. We're going to be overrun. Messalla is viciously dragged from beside Katniss and it distracts a horde of them. Katniss fires two quick incendiary arrows into opposite tunnels sending an explosion that rips through everything in them. It makes me wish I had mine so I could help her clear them out but my hands still couldn't hold one properly yet.

I can hear Peeta screaming at me to keep climbing but then I see Finnick, surrounded. He's holding his own as Katniss fires at everything around him, until one gets its teeth on his shoulder and yanks him backwards toward two more. Not Finnick!

"No!"

I hurl my body back down the hole right on top of it, wrapping the cord around its throat and yanking backwards so its head is sawed clean off, throwing my leg out behind me to kick one of the others. I throw the headless body into the confused horde who swoop down it. I shove Finnick towards the ladder before throwing myself at another reaching for him, my teeth clamping around its throat, the claws on both of my hands gripping the heads of the two that'd been aiming for Katniss. Its nails caught her arm instead of her throat as I yank it back.

They want to see a true mutt I'll give them one!

I'm blinded with a violent fury. A fierce protective instinct takes out more of them than I care to count as I use the mutt programmed rage and power to propel myself forward. My claws find throats while my teeth rip off limbs, dishing out venom with every chomp as I shove my way to the ladder, not needing to see as I reacted off instinct and reflex.

I have to get them out!

I grab Katniss around the waist and practically throw her halfway up the ladder. I snatch Finnick's trident and hurl it, with strength I didn't know I possessed, down the hall successfully pinning at least ten of them to it like a shish-ka-bob. Their blood is disgusting. I fill my mouth with my saliva, spitting as much of it as I could out.

"Fucking climb!" I snarl at her before doing the same to Finnick who is losing way too much blood.

I begin to climb with them, pushing Finnick upwards as his strength begins to wane.

"Eyes open Finnick! You're almost there!"

I feel a tug at my leg but just barely through my adrenaline and bloodlust. I kick hard enough to hear a loud crack beneath me. I can see Gale and Pollux yank Katniss to safety. As I push Finnick up with my right hand, Gale is back with Peeta and they haul him up together.

I got them out. I'm so relieved.

"Blow the holo!" I cry out loudly

Peeta is reaching for me now, his eyes wide and desperate. I hear the hisses of his name not 5 feet below me and as I look up at all the faces shouting at me, gesturing me forward...I realize I've done it. They're all together.

Safe.

I'm not like them anymore. No longer a Victor. Just a mutt who survived. Like those wrapping their claws around my ankle. I belong here. They don't. I look into Peeta's warm face one last time, tears spilling over my cheeks as I give him a smile, and his eyes go wide as he realizes what I have decided.

I let go.

[zigcarnivorous]

dono mania is spreading

-khaled juma

if the condition of the children of gaza doesn't move you, i don't know what will. there is no school this year. there was no school last year either. no clean water or healthy food. no medicines for when they hurt themselves. no toys to play with. no way for them to come out of this genocide unscathed. it's with a heavy heart that i've realized that childhood in gaza is an empty promise.

my friend alaa [ @alaakh998 ] lives in gaza. she has two little kids aged 4 and 6. i cannot help but think about them. how are they doing? what lies in their future? are they okay? I've come to the realization that they wont be safe unless they're able to evacuate from gaza.

the rafah crossing is closed as of now. alaa is fundraising in hopes that she can collect enough money to address her immediate needs and eventually evacuate when the crossing opens. she needs to buy a tent and medicine and supplies and food.

please donate to help her buy these things and ensure her children's well being.

verification: 90-ghost/butterfly effect project (#307)

[shinigami-striker]

Evolution of Knuckles | Friday, 02.02.24

Here's an evolution of Knuckles the Echidna throughout the Sonic video game franchise (since his debut in 1994 with the North American of Sonic the Hedgehog 3) down below.

1994

Sonic the Hedgehog 3 (GENESIS, 02/02/1994)

Sonic & Knuckles/Sonic 3 & Knuckles (GENESIS, 10/18/1994)

Sonic the Hedgehog: Triple Trouble (GAME GEAR, 11/15/1994)

1995

Sonic Drift 2 (GAME GEAR, 03/17/1995)

Knuckles' Chaotix (SEGA 32X, 04/20/1995)

1996

Sonic the Fighters (ARCADE, May 1996)

Sonic 3D Blast (GENESIS/SATURN, 11/09/1996)

Sonic Blast (GAME GEAR/MASTER SYSTEM, 12/12/1996)

1997

Sonic R (SATURN, 11/18/1997)

1998

Sonic Adventure (DREAMCAST, 12/23/1998)

1999

Sonic the Hedgehog: Pocket Adventure (NEO GEO POCKET COLOR, 12/20/1999)

2000

Sonic Shuffle (DREAMCAST, 11/13/2000)

2001

Sonic Adventure 2 (Battle) (DREAMCAST/GAMECUBE, 06/19/2001)

Sonic Advance (GBA, 12/20/2001)

2002

Sonic Advance 2 (GBA, 12/19/2002)

2003

Sonic Pinball Party (GBA, 06/01/2003)

Sonic Battle (GBA, 12/04/2003)

Sonic Heroes (MULTI-PLATFORM, 12/30/2003)

2004

Sonic Advance 3 (GBA, 06/07/2004)

2005

Shadow the Hedgehog (MULTI-PLATFORM, 11/15/2005)

Sonic Rush (DS, 11/15/2005)

2006

Sonic Riders (MULTI-PLATFORM, 02/21/2006)

Sonic the Hedgehog (2006) (PS3 & XBOX 360, 11/14/2006)

Sonic Rivals (PSP, 11/16/2006)

2007

Sonic & The Secret Rings (WII, 02/20/2007)

Sonic Rivals 2 (PSP, 11/13/2007)

2008

Sonic Riders: Zero Gravity (PS2/WII, 01/08/2008)

Sonic Chronicles: The Dark Brotherhood (DS, 09/25/2008)

2009

Sonic & The Black Knight (WII, 03/09/2009)

2010

Sonic & Sega All-Stars Racing (MULTI-PLATFORM, 02/19/2010)

Sonic Free Riders (XBOX 360, 11/04/2010)

Sonic Colors (Nintendo DS version) (DS, 11/11/2010)

2011

Sonic Generations (MULTI-PLATFORM, 11/01/2011)

2012

Sonic & All-Stars Racing Transformed (MULTI-PLATFORM, 2012)

2013

Sonic Dash (MOBILE, 03/07/2013)

Sonic Lost World (10/18/2013)

2014

Sonic Boom: Rise of Lyric (WII U, 11/11/2014)

Sonic Boom: Shattered Crystal (3DS, 11/11/2014)

2015

Sonic Runners (MOBILE, 02/25/2015)

Sonic Dash 2: Sonic Boom (MOBILE, 07/01/2015)

2016

Sonic Boom: Fire & Ice (3DS, 09/27/2016)

2017

Sonic Mania (Plus) (MULTI-PLATFORM, 08/15/2017)

Sonic Forces: Speed Battle (MOBILE, 09/08/2017)

Sonic Forces (MULTI-PLATFORM, 11/07/2017)

Sonic Runners Adventure (MOBILE, 12/20/2017)

2019

Team Sonic Racing (MULTI-PLATFORM, 05/21/2019)

Sonic Racing (APPLE ARCADE, 09/19/2019)

2022

Sonic Frontiers (MULTI-PLATFORM, 11/08/2022)

2023

The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog (PC, 03/31/2023)

Sonic Superstars (MULTI-PLATFORM, 10/20/2023)

Sonic Dream Team (APPLE ARCADE, 12/05/2023)

2024

Sonic X Shadow Generations (MULTI-PLATFORM, Fall 2024)

and many more to come soon...

[happyk44]

Been trying to write some nonsense abt PDs but struggling because how do you word thoughts again? Anyway, some updates to the propensity list! New ones are bolded!

Zeus/Jupiter: OCPD and Autism (based on being the god of law and order, and justice, as well as king of Olympus)

Poseidon: BPD, Bipolar Disorder, Conduct Disorder and ASPD (based on the idea of a moody and volatile sea)

Neptune: SZPD and ASPD (based on the idea of an emotionless and uncaring sea)

Hades/Pluto and Thanatos/Mors: infertility, and, in rare cases, sterility (self-explanatory)

Ares: IED, ODD, Conduct Disorder, and ASPD (self-explanatory)

Hypnos/Somnus, Morpheus, and the Oneiroi/Somnia: Excessive daytime sleepiness/Hypersomnia, Maladaptive Daydreaming, Narcolepsy, and Parasomnias (self explanatory)

Pasithea: STPD (based on her being the goddess of rest, relaxation, delusions and hallucinations. While STPD does not involve hallucinations, it does involve distorted cognition and perceptions, as well as magical thinking, which I think fits within the delusion part)

Hermes/Mercury: Kleptomania, Restless Leg Syndrome, and Elopement (self-explanatory)

Aphrodite/Venus and the Erotes: Hypersexuality, Paraphilic disorders, Cacophobia, and HPD (self-explanatory)

Apollo: HPD (I mean... it's self-explanatory, right? We know who he is, lol), and Nyctophobia (self-explanatory)

Nyx/Nox and Erebus: Photosensitivity/sun allergy (self-explanatory)

Athena/Minerva: Arachnophobia (canon)

Akhyls: Major depressive disorder and Cherophobia (self-explanatory)

Lethe: Dementia and Alzheimer's (self-explanatory)

Hephaestus/Vulcan: Pyromania (self-explanatory)

Demeter/Ceres: Seasonal affective disorder (based on the fact that winter is representative of Demeter's sadness that her daughter is gone for the whole)

Phobia and mania descriptions:

Cacophobia: fear of ugliness

Nyctophobia: fear of the dark

Arachnophobia: fear of spiders

Cherophobia: fear of happiness

Kleptomania: inability to resist urges to steal items that are not needed (impulse control disorder)

Pyromania: inability to resist urges to start fires (impulse control disorder)

Considering Body Dysmorphia Disorder for Aphrodite's children for obvious reasons, but I'm not sure that's likely? Like fear of being ugly, I can see, but the concept that they themselves are ugly or parts of their body doesn't fit is a little flippy-floppy, so idk.

Also thinking about DPDR for Hypnos and the dream babes, or his wife Pasithea since I think it could work with her delusion/hallucination aspect. However, as someone who frequently experiences DP, idk if I would characterize it as a delusion or hallucination 🤔🤔

Similarly - alcoholism/substance abuse for Dionysus's children? It seems obvious but as the god of wine, surely they would have a higher tolerance for the stuff. Possibly that still relates to being capable of developing a dependence on it? But idk.

As always, feel free to hop into my asks to chat about your thoughts or ideas - whether you disagree or agree with the above. Always curious to know what other people think 😊