#Fall Coffin Nail Designs

[ebuddynews]

Top 6 Coffin Fall Nail Designs 2022 For You

Top 6 Coffin Fall Nail Designs 2022 For You Here are the top coffin nail designs in the fall season, these ideas will give more beauty to your nails and nail shapes #coffinnaildesigns #fallcoffinnaildesigns #coffinfallnaildesigns #nailart #naildesigns #coffin #fall #autumn #nails #fashionandbeauty #lifestyle #nailshape #nailstyle

Previously, people only had two nail shapes: ’round and square.’ However, there is a nail shape that has been ’round’ for decades. Moreover, it has not gained boosted attention, particularly from the regular ‘nail-bar’ goers. The shape in reference is none other than ‘coffin nails.’ Its name might have a peculiar sound. But please believe that coffin nail designs are super stylish, especially in…

[nailsforusbyus]

FALL NAIL INSPIRATION (3)

[deathbecomesthem]

No Shelter 1

Rockstar!Eddie Munson x AFAB!Partner!Reader | 3.2K

Series Setting: 1999 Los Angeles - No Upside Down AU

Summary: You are Eddie Munson's partner of 12 years. You've been together through everything. You managed Corroded Coffin while they were establishing themselves. But who are you? When you look in the mirror, you only see yourself through Eddie's eyes.

This is a series about being lost in a relationship, and seeing if there's a way to find yourself without tearing it to pieces. This is also a story about being queer and very in the closet. (It's the 90s)

Warnings: Angst, drinking, breaking things in anger, secrets, Eddie will have sexual trysts in future installments that are not with the reader (not cheating), and allusions to smut in this chapter. (There will be more smut in future installments. I don't expect it to be overly explicit, but will use the appropriate warnings when I get to those parts.)

A/N: This is not your typical rockstar story, so be prepared to be disappointed if you're looking for immediate debauchery and cheating tropes. *This story has been posted on my other blog previously. I think it fits better in this space, so I'm moving it over to this corner. In short - I do what I want, and this is it.

---

It’s been creeping up for a while now. Possibly forever. It’s quiet and sneaky, somewhere very deep inside. Somewhere you’ve hidden it away, kept it out of the sunlight. You keep it in the deep and dark places. You keep it secret and safe. It thrives in the shadows, it gobbles up the light and good things. It feasts on the happy times. When you see him again after months apart. When his arms wrap around your body and hold you close. Those are the things that used to be a comfort. Used to feel like home. But that thing inside – dissatisfaction - has twisted your comfort. Made you realize your home isn’t built on a firm foundation, but on the moving sands. The tide’s rolling in, and the stilts under the floor are sagging. It won’t take much more than a stray wave for them to buckle. A loose bolt threatens the whole structure. The strong grip of Eddie’s hands, his need for this home to stay upright, is not enough to keep the walls from falling.

–

It’s Sunday night. Tomorrow he leaves again. This time for only 3 months. Only. There was a time when his absence for more than a couple of weeks would send you into a grief spiral. That was how it happened, how you became an essential member of the team. It was meant to keep you with the boys as much as possible, just some light personal assisting work. But then, it was suddenly so much more. You were the one that did the bookings. You were the one that made sure it was exactly how it should be, down to a case of Mountain Dew before the shows, and the case of PBR after, and every other detail in between. You hired costume designers. You talked to the lawyers. You made hotel reservations, and eating arrangements. 

Hiring Terry last year was a nail in the coffin. The first nail. Eddie didn’t understand why, after this many years, you needed to step down. He didn’t understand why you couldn’t give him a reason, any reason, for abandoning the band. Your argument, if you could call it that, was that you weren’t abandoning them but you were putting them in the hands of a professional. Besides, you had your own project on the horizon. In the way that Eddie does things, he pouted and then accepted. He came to grudging terms, and then it was all fine suddenly. You knew why. He loves you, and he needs you, not as the band’s manager, but as his one and only. His paramour. His light. His life. His home. His everything. His.

You stand in the small bathroom that sits adjacent to the master bedroom of your modest home. Modest for a rock star, extravagant for a couple of kids from a trailer park in the middle of Indiana. You look at your face. It’s not the lines at your eyes and around your mouth that set you on edge. It’s not the way that your once firm skin looks a little looser than it did when Eddie first cupped your cheek and told you how beautiful you are. It’s the way you can’t see yourself in the reflection. The mirror reflects a face you do not know. It’s something behind the eyes. You think if you could get close enough to the glass, you might be able to see a different set of eyes peering out from the pupils that face you in this reflection. That’s not me, you say out loud, but inside your mind. You want to scream it. You want to throw your ornate metal hairbrush and watch the glass crack into a hundred pieces. You want to scatter that wrong face all over the basin in front of you.

You won’t scream, because Eddie is in the bedroom. He’s laying under the quilt that you had specially made for him by a seamstress in New York. It’s macabre and matches the drapes that have been dyed to appear to have blood stains splattered across them. It was fun at the time, but now the theme sets your teeth on edge. Eddie is completely satisfied in his space, his readers sit on the end of his nose. That nose that you’ve loved so well. You’ve kissed the tip of it thousands of times while gazing into his beautiful eyes. Those eyes that you’ve looked into while reaching the highest peaks of pleasure, and the deepest trenches of grief. You know him. Every piece of him, and you love him.

Why isn’t it enough anymore?

Dissatisfaction. It’s the word that swims in your mind when you wake in the morning and when you lay your head on the pillow to sleep at night. The soft silk fabric against your skin offers no real comfort. The big bed, the one you purchased after months of looking for the perfect one, does not hold you like it used to. The warmth of your man next to you, the low hum of his breathing, the whispers he sighs while his mind sleeps do not light you up. They do not make you feel held and safe. They make you feel trapped. They make you feel alone.

His arms used to be your comfort, but now they feel like a cage. Maybe they always have been. Maybe you’ve grown to resent the prison you placed yourself in all of those years ago. You resent the way he needs you. How can he need a thing that isn’t real? You touch the cool glass of the mirror and run the tip of a finger along the lines of your features. Who is she? Who is this person? Is she anything more than what she can offer to him? Has she ever been?

--

“Terry called while you were still in bed, told him you’d call him as soon as you got up.” You tell Eddie as his slow-moving form moves to your end of the kitchen. You’re pouring coffee into a travel mug, while his arms travel around your waist. His nose finds its favorite place, the crook of your neck. You feel the air move against your skin as he breathes you in. This is what he does every morning that you’re together, he holds you like this. In this moment, he is home. He is safe. He is loved.

“I don’t give a fuck about Terry right now. Where you goin’, sugar? You leavin’ me?” Eddie’s gravelly voice is spoken directly through the skin of your shoulder. He’s leaving again tomorrow for the second leg of the tour. You know that’s why he’s extra clingy, why he’s holding you too tight. Why his lips are traveling along your collarbone in that way that makes your knees buckle.

“I have an appointment, baby. I’m sorry. We’ll have dinner tonight, ok?” You keep your voice airy. You give his wrists a squeeze and a gentle rub of your thumb before working your way out of his hands. You turn your face to him, rest your forehead on his chest and search for any bit of comfort that can offer you. It’s hollow for you, but it means something to him.

“I can go with you, if you want.” Eddie’s voice has a hint of a plea, a need.

“No, you call Terry back. You’re leaving tomorrow. I’ll be home later, baby. I promise. I love you, Ed.” These words are true, and you reassure him by looking into his eyes. You place your hand on his cheek and let him rest there for a moment before pulling away and grabbing your bag and coffee. You leave Eddie, your baby boy, in the middle of the kitchen of your shared home as you walk out the front door.

You have no appointment today. The sun shines on you as you step into the day. It’s bright already and sweat begins to form in the crease of your elbows and knees before you even make it to the front door of your car. The Corvette was a Christmas gift, something that suits the weather of your current home any time of the year. If you were still in Indiana, it would be even more ridiculous than it already is to own something like this. The house is modest compared to the cars and bikes the two of you own, most of which sit in a garage outside of town that rarely gets visited. The Corvette is yours, and you think about how you’ll go about keeping it if – if what, exactly? If things change, maybe keeping the Corvette will be that last of your worries.

You let the fantasies run riot through your head while you let the tires spin through the hills, taking turns like a dream. Eddie decides to start fucking one of his groupies – no, that thought is like a shot through the heart. Eddie tells you he wants a break ­– best case scenario that will never happen. You tell him the truth – how can you tell him the truth when you don’t know what the truth is?

You think about sitting down with Eddie, your best friend and lover of over a decade, and telling him that you’ve started renting a studio apartment in the arts district. That when he’s on tour, you leave the big house, and never step foot in it again until he returns. That your skin looks wrong on your body. That his embrace brings no comfort anymore. That you, Eddie’s home, has an infestation of resentment, and it’s threatening to crumble at any moment.

It’s been worse lately, since Eddie and Terry have started fighting. Whispers between Eddie and Jeff about reinstating you as an interim manager if they fire Terry have put you right on the edge of a breakdown. You’ve done your time for them, and you love them all, but you’re done taking care of their shit. Except. Except that you’re not done taking care of their shit. That’s what you do, and it’s what you’ve done for so long. Saying no feels like abandonment. And that’s how he’ll see it, not Jeff, not Gareth, but Eddie. Eddie will feel abandoned. The others will understand. You’re not their home. They don’t need you in the same way Eddie does, as his shelter.

You pull your car into the parking garage attached to the building that butts against the studio. You park in your spot, $50 a month. You walk up to the elevator and make your way to the top floor. You use your key, the one you keep on the keychain in the zipper pocket of your purse and open the door of your place - $900 a month. You walk into the living room where a couch - $300 – sits next to a high-end stereo system - $1,200. You walk to the small desk in the corner facing the windows and turn on the iMac - $1,300. The rest of the space is empty. The couch is where you sleep when you stay here. The kitchen has a refrigerator and a microwave, no other appliances come with the unit. An oven is on your list of things to get, but it can wait. It’s not that you don’t have the money. The money hasn’t been an issue for a long time now.

Every purchase feels like a betrayal. The bank account, secretly opened months ago, is something that no one knows about. You know that you probably don’t even need a secret account with your maiden name attached to it, Eddie never looks at the finances. He trusts you completely. You take care of these things, and there’s more than enough to go around. You can have anything you want. Well. You can have anything that money can buy. He would say that to you, and he would mean it. But this - this is not something he would ever consider.

You sit on the couch. You pick up the remote control and turn on the stereo. You hit play on the CD player and listen to the discs shuffle before the sound of Chris Cornell’s ethereal voice sings out to you from the speakers positioned around the room. You close your eyes and let yourself be in that place for a few moments before you begin the work you can only do alone.

--

Eddie Munson, frontman of Corroded Coffin, Playgirl centerfold, and recently guest hosted an episode of MTV’s Loveline (where his monologue about cunnilingus was so censored, the station had to cut it completely) cannot stop staring at his telephone. Is he angry? He doesn’t know. Mostly, he’s fucking terrified, but that idea doesn’t reach him. How can he be so sure about something, someone, and it’s not real? How can you, the only thing in the world that he truly knows and trusts, be false. If you’re not real, if you’re sneaking like this, then who is he? What does it mean?

It brings him no satisfaction to pick up that bulky piece of plastic and throw it against the wall. To watch broken pieces of plastic spray across the fine Persian rug that you purchased 3 years ago for $5,000. The cost of it is the first thing that moves across his mind while he looks at the thing. And he wonders, has he not always given you everything you could have ever dreamed of? Has he not held you tightly in his arms and loved you with every piece of him? Has he not sung songs about your beauty in front of thousands of people for years and years and years? 

Yes, he has. And yet, you do this. The pain is intense, and it twists inside of him. He can’t allow that pain to take over, he can’t let it touch him. Not now. Not when he should be packing his shit. Not when he should have you here with him right now. You should be letting him drink you in, love you, cherish these rare moments of being together. Instead, you hide. He looks at the paper where he’s scribbled down the address. Terry told him about the apartment after checking in on some odd financial reports. Terry even hired a PI that specializes in this kind of research. Terry is a fucking prick, but Eddie knows now. He can at least give him that.

Eddie’s mind is flooded with thoughts as he moves through the house. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for, he just knows there’s something. There’s a clue somewhere. What did he miss? There’s a thought that keeps floating to the surface of his brain that threatens to make him crumble completely. He keeps pushing it back, avoiding it. It hurts too much to think about. It can’t be that.

Is there someone else?

–

You stay in your apartment too long. The sun is hanging too low in the sky. The hands on your wrist watch tell you that it’s late enough, and your stomach growling tells you that you skipped both breakfast and lunch. Foolish. You consider calling in Chinese and snatching it up on the way home to share with Eddie, it’s his favorite, and you remember that the apartment doesn’t have a telephone hooked up yet. It’s one of the reasons you like it here so much - no one knows how to find you. You have a mobile in the glove box of the Corvette, but you never use it. Eddie has one too, but the both of you view the devices as obscene, only to be used in a severe emergency. Being a bad partner is not an emergency.

It’s so easy to get lost here. You moved all of your old things, your journals, your music, your letters, into the apartment the same week you signed the lease. The original idea was to have a space to dive into the past. Sophia had come to you with a proposal. She wants your memoir. A publisher is interested in the behind the scenes details of the life of Corroded Coffin’s former manager and current partner of Eddie Munson. They say they want your story. What they want, though, is the story of Eddie and the boys seen through the eyes of a bystander. 

What you found when you dug into yourself, into your journals, your old songs, was a person you have forgotten. What you found was something you had well and truly lost along the way - yourself. There were things in those journals that show hopes and dreams that look nothing like the life you’re living. Your face in the mirror is a shade. A person living in the shadows of someone larger than life. 

Eddie. Eddie “The Freak” Munson. Eddie Fingers. The man with the diamond tongue. Eddie Munson, who once spent a year in prison for murdering a cheerleader when he was 20 years old and a third year senior. His story is legendary. Your story is a thread within his finished piece.

Right now, you need to get back to him, because you said you would. Because he needs you. He’s leaving tomorrow. He’ll want to hold you close and tell you about how much he worships you. He wants to tell you that, without you, he’d be nothing. Less than nothing. He needs to let salty tears run down his cheeks while he’s inside of you, while he’s searching for his home. You’ll let him, and you’ll search that place between the two of you for some kind of comfort. You’ll tell him the truth, that you love him fiercely, that he’s everything, that no one in the world is like him. 

And it will leave you feeling empty.

–

You power down the iMac that sits at the tiny desk in the corner of your apartment before clicking off the lights. It’s almost dark now, and you’re cursing yourself under your breath. He will surely have questions, so you begin to formulate a story. Maybe you ran into someone downtown and decided to get coffee. Yes, that will have to do, even if it’s thin. Eddie might think it strange, but he trusts you. He won’t think it’s a lie. 

You slip your bare feet in the sandals you left by the big blue door at the entrance of your apartment. You check your bag, make sure you have the essentials, and unzip the inner pocket to bring out the secret apartment key. You unlatch the chain, you unbolt the lock, you turn the knob, and you see the world you know crumble apart.

“Eddie.” You manage to whisper out his name before the air is sucked out of your lungs. You can’t breathe. The smell of whiskey is coming off of him in waves, and you see dried blood on his knuckles. It’s a combination of sights and smells that you haven’t seen since that first year the two of you were together, and you feel your chest tightening.

The tide has finally reached its arms up into the sands of your beach, and you’ve been dragged under.

[kingscourthouse]

This is a Ren Cinematic Universe moment

Did a quick update on my Ren designs. Note: King RenTheKing isn't included because I don't see him as someone separate from ren himself. Grimm (Demised RenBob) is my own mini au I guess? Don't really know what he would be, but I like to imagine him n Grim are a team in killin'.

If anyone cares, details on them below!

Base things on all of them: All of them have some sort of enchanted band on them with protection. If they were to remove it, they would just be some big dogs. (This way I get both Ren and dog Ren >:D)

Have you seen those glasses without the arms just pinch to your nose bridge? Yeah, they kinda need them. Dog ears lol.

They all have diffrent versions of Ren's facial hair. Obvi Grimm's is based on Renbob's and the others are based on Ren's. Example, Red still has the same shape of stubble like ren, but his is much thicker and a bit messier like his hair.

Their hand nails are all diffrent too if that counts.

Ren: Legit just basic Ren Diggity Dog. Pan flag colours on his ear peircings. Leg coverings are layers of leather that button in the back to keep them from being too damaged while working. Prot band is on his left arm. It's made of netherite so it can't be destroyed...unless he runs into a cactus. Very fluff, is a good boy.

Red (King): Still grey from the death games and curse, but has a bit of colour unlike the demised. His hair is much messier and a bit longer than Ren's. Ears are more pointed like a wolf. When Ren was King, Red made his crown and cape for him. Red still thinks he's better though. Slacks are tighter fit around his knees for movement. ROYAL BLUE BABY- Not a chestplate, but has gold plating around his neck and shoulder that holds his cape. Gold cuffs on his feet because he hated the lack of movement with full leg coverings. Gotta protec those toe beans. Cape is pinned to his sleeve so it moves with him. Very elegant. Prot band on his left hand is a gift from Martyn. Has his symbol so he may always protect his king in some form. Martyn also learned the hard way that Red's cape is basically a giant weighted blanket. How the hell does he carry that?!

(Ren) Bob: Sometimes the hermits call him Rob. Basically a Timmy/Jimmy situation. Again, just basic RenBob. Very flowy clothing. His necklace is a crystal gifted from Impulse back in season 6. He also has earrings made from Grian's feathers he'll wear. They tickle sometimes though, so it's not often. No leg protection. Wants to "Be connected to the world" or whatever he said. Most of his jewlry is wooden. The wooden earrings pull his ears down a bit, but he likes the floppy ears anyway. Prot band is wooden braclet on his right arm. He has a wide variety of goofy cardigans. The egg one is one of his favourites.

(Link to the actual cardigan if you want it)

Grim (Dog): Demised Ren. Kinda like the life games, he has a thirst for death. Maybe not as intense, but he'll sometimes be in a hunting mood. There are tallymarks on his arm are a count of how many he's killed. He's very grateful for the respawn system, he can play these games forever now! Loves very outgoing deaths. Explosions and fireworks are his favourite. NEVER TRUST HIM WITH A CROSSBOW. Prot band is a choker hidden by his hood. Died from fall damage. In death, he invent footwear better than featherfalling to keep him from perishing like that again. (Think long fall boots from Portal. They're shock absorbers.) Has a fear of heights, but he'll never admit that to you. Eyes may look like pure white, but you'll see his iris in a dark room. The iris and pupil glow white, the sclera don't. And yes, his glasses are the shape of coffins.

Grimm (Bob): Demised RenBob! (Rob???) Also gets the urge to kill but prefers not to. When he does, it is much quieter deaths like drowning or suffocation. Grimm prefers to follow around Grim and tend to the dead. Arranging graves, leave flowers, tag you with how you died, that's all him! Died by suffocation. Nobody knows how but Grim. Doesn't talk very much. The most you'll hear is him muttering prayers to the dead. Sometimes he'll also just say a single word and scare the daylights out of somebody. Prot band is a choker beneath his hood aswell. Eyes are just like Grim's; You won't see his iris, but it's there. May not have the weird cardigans like his counterpart, but a few hermits are a fan of his glasses. Tango loves the X glasses. Reminds him of cartoons!

That's all I can think of right now. Any questions? Feel free to ask!

(Suggest more silly cardigans for renbob and I might draw them)

[ghostkennedy]

One Foot Here, One Foot Out the Door

~Leon Kennedy angst~

Word count: 854

Content warnings: PTSD, mental illness, gun use, suicidal thoughts, suicidal ideation, near suicide attempt, self-destructive behaviors, Leon is depressed and contemplating suicide. No comfort, no happy ending, just pure sadness.

I've been having a hard time lately with the battles inside my own head, so I wanted to write about the part of Leon that most resonates with me. The one foot here, one foot out the door feeling. Teetering on the edge of the end. I've barely scratched the surface here, but it felt nice to release these feelings from inside of me.

!!!!!SUICIDE IS NEVER THE ANSWER. REACH OUT TO SOMEBODY, NEVER SUFFER SILENTLY!!!!!!

~masterlist~ for those who don't wish to proceed with this piece

Why are any of us even born at all? Brought into a world where pain and suffering is the primary universal experience.

He looks at an old lady pushing her grocery cart, knowing she’s experienced pains he’ll never be able to comprehend. He sees a newborn baby and knows there’s nothing at all anyone can do to prevent them from enduring countless heartbreaks and devastation. He looks in the mirror and sees the shell of a man he once was. Or maybe he doesn’t recognize the face staring back at him at all.

He’s merely the solution of an equation made up of trauma, ache, and dread. 

So that begs the question, why the fuck were we even born at all?

Graced with a life that we beg any higher deity to take away. Take it back, take it all back. Why must we be forced to exist? He never should’ve existed at all.

Projecting his own damage as the general consensus to aid in an endless loneliness that no company could ever fill. Emptiness. How can one person feel so empty and so full of disgusting emotions at the same time? 

Countless people tell him he’s worthy of a better life. That he deserves so much better, that there’s better out there for him. But no one ever offers a solution. It’s just words they tell him to make themselves feel like they did something for him. 

If one day he loses the battle between himself and his own brain, they can say that they tried to help him. They were there for him. They took care of him. They can’t believe that this has happened.

They didn’t do a fucking thing. Thank you, sincerely, for your meaningless phrases that went in one ear and out the other. Empty words that he tossed away. Meanwhile, the words inside his own brain telling him the world would be better off without him dug their claws deeper and deeper into this godforsaken soul.

This soul that couldn’t have possibly been designed to endure such bullshit.

If everything happens for a reason, he’s sure that the reason is to see what will be the final nail in his coffin. Each day is harder. The years pass and traumatic event after traumatic event after traumatic fucking event just keeps happening to him. What will it finally take for him to fall apart completely and give himself away completely?

He wishes he could summarize it so simply. He could proclaim that the darkness has him in its grip, but that wouldn’t do it justice. Maybe he’s become the darkness. Maybe any light left inside of him has burnt out and now he’s left with only the nothingness within him.

If he had a choice, maybe he would feel better. He’d tell himself that he does it because he helps people. But that’s just more bullshit.

He’s never had a choice. He’s always been expected to put everything above himself, who gives a fuck what happens to him? Another statistic? A plus one to the casualty count? He’ll destroy himself until one day, that’s all he is.

If he thinks about how much light he used to hold inside of himself when he was younger, he’s filled with a blinding rage. The hopes and dreams he’s long lost and buried. 

How is one person expected to mourn themselves while still fucking breathing?

He’s not himself anymore. The Leon he once knew, maybe even the one he was meant to be, is gone. And there’s nothing he could ever do to bring him back. 

No matter how much he tries to numb himself, to detach himself and just go through the motions, the depression and anxiety always creeps up. It’s the only consistent thing in his life, and it’s not much to cling to, is it?

And as hard as it is to admit it, he truly wants it all to end. 

Maybe not by his own hand. Maybe not intentionally. No, he’s a coward. Too cowardly to take that final step that he so desperately craves.

His daydreams have become a grim vision of what it would be like if a mission went wrong. If something out of his control finally ended his life. 

Perhaps he’s become careless. Acting despite the possible consequences. Because if something finally clipped that last thread tying him to our world, would that really be so bad? Is that really “worst case scenario”? 

He’s no hero. He’s a fucking fool. A fool who at the root of it all, should’ve never existed at all.

The only comfort he finds is in the fact that one day he will cease to exist and there will be no one left on earth who remembers Leon Kennedy. The pain and suffering he’s seen will die with him.

But unfortunately, today is not that day. Today isn’t the start of the world after Leon Kennedy.

“Fucking coward,” he whispers to his reflection as he clicks the safety back into place. He lowers the gun from his temple and smashes it against the bathroom sink with a loud clang.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

hey. i love you. and i would listen to you any fucking time. don't let the worst day of your life be the last. -hannah

[roxineedstosleep]

Hello how are you? Can i ask for headcannons of yandere batman/bruce wayne (romantic) with a sickly darling? Not bed ridden but their health is kinda on the weaker side? I always kinda wondered about that

Darling doesn't really have a fucking chance of living independently again.

The mansion also becomes a mess every time the weather changes and the seasons change, so much so that even the city's cleaning companies offer him promotions for all the disinfecting work they do at Wayne Manor. The entire old mansion is refurbished so that there is always a medicine cabinet or something to rest in case you are exhausted.

Not to mention that the medical room in the Batcave is always well stocked and the telephone for an ambulance with a direct line is in every room.

Bruce, in the first place, would set up a whole room for his special someone.

Have you ever seen, either personally or in photographs and videos, those hospice rooms? You know, those permanent patient rooms? A room that is always clean, in neutral colours, with good lighting and ventilation; no overdone decorations and extremely comfortable sofas, beds and furniture. The kind that has handrails and facilitators on all sides, so that the individual can have support without the need or urgency of someone to be by his or her side.

Well, that's what the room Bruce designed for his beloved looks like.

Of course, he prefers to surgically clean his room every day so that his precious loved one is not far from him. But you can imagine what I mean.

Always, whether in his character of Brucie, Bruce CEO, Batman, or Bruce father and husband, he has in one of his pockets medicines and other things he feels you might need in case of a relapse.

He would always be at his beloved's side, offering his arm firmly, he would give you hugs when he feels you're a little cold, he wouldn't let you get overwhelmed by actions that could easily be skipped (why go to the shop and cross several blocks carrying terribly heavy bags, if you can order a delivery?) Going into a controlled panic when you notice that you've simply caught a cold again.

He would keep a medical calendar with all your medical records, he would take you to the doctors himself for your annual check-ups, he would ask his children to help him create a peaceful and calm atmosphere inside the mansion so that he wouldn't have to stress you out during your treatments.

Not that the dear one is bedridden. No.

Darling has allergies, like anyone else; occasionally gets the occasional muscle ache from overdoing things, like most of us; sure, they gets colds, but nothing that a nice hot cup of tea and an electric blanket won't fix. Yes, they also get allergies, migraines and cramps from extreme temperatures, but you're not going to die from them.

Even if it's really all down to a genetic factor that makes his Darling have to be much more careful than other people (like having a screwed up family genetics).

But Bruce doesn't get it.

Simple as if.

Of course, Dear, you must take a significant number (4) pills a day in order to remain stable. They're not even sick pills, just vitamins and iron supplements.

But for Bruce it's as if those four little pills implied one more nail in your coffin. He would have whole crises when he sees a used handkerchief near you, or when Alfred or one of his children notifies him that that day his special person lost his appetite or the food made them sick.

So pending, everything that could put a minimum of your bodily integrity at will be completely prohibited.

So, you should be lucky if it falls into their hands.

[scheodingers-muppet]

@yournowheregirl's dolly fic has turned me into a southern Eddie truther so here this is;

Eddie always hated Hawkins. He hated the cold. He hated the music "scene." He hated the small-town-picket-fence dream all his classmates seemed to have. He hated the way it never felt like home.

That's probably because it wasn't home. Never had been. When Wayne's job transferred him to Indiana right before he started middle school, he wanted nothing more but get through school and hi-tail it back to Arkansas before you could say "Bless your heart!"

But when does anything ever go according to plan?

It was okay at first; he started to make some friends in his classes. Took up band. Wayne got him a Johnny Cash record and guitar for his birthday and he started to spend his free time learning his favorite songs to sing around the bonfire on warm Summer nights. Sure, it wasn't what his friends listened to, but he loved seeing their faces when he got to share a little piece of home with them.

In turn, his friends shared pieces of them with Eddie. Introduced him to Dio and Dungeons and Dragons. Eddie loved it immediately, being flooded with memories of reading The Hobbit with Wayne on sleepless nights after he first moved in.

Slowly, the country and flannels were replaced with metal and leather jackets. His accent slowly faded, not having a strong one to begin with unless he was drunk or excited. Occasionally, you could still hear it, if you listened closely to his rambles on metal music and fantasy stories. He started growing out his hair and gave himself some tattoos. His dream of moving back home turned into wanting to tour, to bring Corroded Coffin on the road.

Then, Wayne gets hurt. Dislocates his knee. It isn't anything horrible. But it's enough to keep him from working for a few months. Eddie tries to get a job to help with the bills, but who really wants to hire a 17-year-old metal head who needs every Friday off for D&D and every other Saturday for band practice? So he found himself on Reefer Rick’s couch, getting the run down on how to deal to his classmates.

He started to fall behind in class, to worried about keeping the lights on and his uncle’s medical bills paid. Even after Wayne starts working again, he’s built up a reputation as the school’s dealer so he keeps it up. He ends up needing to repeat senior year. His friends and original band members gradate and move out of state for school. Eddie's world begins to crumble.

He tries to rebuild what he can. He's befriended some more kids through Hellfire and even through he stopped doing school band a few years ago, he still knows enough talented kids to keep Corroded Coffin going. His life starts to look up again.

Until spring break of '86.

Eddie's always hated Hawkins. Hated the weather. Hated the excuse of sweet tea. Hated the monsters that lived in the Hell dimension below it, even if he didn't always know they were there.

What he loves however, is his people. His people, who quietly grew from just his uncle, to the band, to the Hellfire kids, then suddenly, a group of monster fighting teenagers.

His life starts to fall back in place. His recovery from the Upside Down is taking it's sweet time, but he's getting there. The kids surprised him with a new cane after he complained his wasn't "metal enough." Will drew up the design - the base being a black and red dragon with a skull that matches one of his favorite rings for the handle - and Hopper got it carved for him. Steve is driving him around most places until he's cleared to drive again. Even though his name is cleared, he still doesn't feel comfortable going many places so it's mainly doctors appointments right now. Robin paints his nails red and black on days when he's bedbound and Nancy helps with his hair since he can't get his stitches wet yet.

He slowly starts to share his favorite parts of home with them. He plays "Ring of Fire" at the bonfires Steve hosts over the summer. He gives Dustin his old flannels that don't fit him anymore. He teaches El how to make sweet tea the right way and starts to include more southern folklore in his campaigns.

Him and Steve grow closer; finally starting dating after six months of dancing around their feelings. They get a small apartment together after a while. Eddie proudly hangs his two guitars on the wall in their bedroom, playing Steve songs on his acoustic when he can't sleep. They host Hellfire in their living room every Friday and Uncle Wayne over for dinner on Saturdays. Corroded Coffin still play gigs at the Hideout, but they're starting to get some big gigs out of town. After years of repeated head trauma, Steve ends up needing hearing aids. It's not ideal, but it does mean he gets to stand front row at all of Eddie's concerts and not worry about his hears ringing.

He never does end up moving back home, but he does make a home in Hawkins. He brings in little elements of his childhood into their new house; a two-story with lots of windows. Him, Steve, and Wayne spend a weekend planting apple blossoms and sunflowers. Well, Wayne sits on the rocking chair, strumming on the guitar he got Eddie all those years ago while the boys make a garden. He keeps sweet tea in the fridge at all times and calls Steve his "Sweetpea" and doesn't try and hide his accent. Steve eats it up, asking him to say it again and again the first time he hears it.

The band makes it big and Eddie goes on tour. He sends Steve postcards at every stop and makes sure they play in Arkansas. He brings the guys to where he grew up, telling them stories at every stop. When Steve is on summer break from teaching, he brings him down too. It slowly becomes a tradition to spend summers "back home." It stops becoming just the two of them when they're able to adopt a little girl, who Eddie almost solely refers to as his "Darlin'" and writes a song for her, about a little boy who grew up longing for home only to realize he was able to build it back right where he stood. They band plays it on every tour, even if it's a lot softer than the rest of their songs. They play it for the first time at a "hometown-esc" show in Little Rock, where he first tells the world about his Darlin', with her and Steve watching from the side of the stage.

Eddie's always hated Hawkins, but he's never hated home.

[muzzleroars]

I like to think that what partially motivated Lucifer to finally snap and Rebell against hell was him actually meeting and talking to Adam and Eve and realizing "Holy fuck I dont want them nor their future gens to be tortured forever" and seeing them grow, change and learn as well as having a choice in who they wish to be (smth angels cant really do) and maybe just maybe the hypothetical that if everyone in heaven, both angels and humans are immortal they'll all eventually land in hell to be tortured forever (considering eternity is a long time and a long time to accidentally Slip up)

i definitely think the human issue is primarily what drove his dissent, and i think the idea is supported well enough by the testament alluding to lucifer's fall. initially, of course, he was thrilled by god's new design - "we will make man in our image" is a pretty intriguing pitch, but lucifer's questions quickly began to rise to the surface as that idea took shape. a creature made in god's image, taken to mean that human beings will be boundlessly inventive and have the capacity to create endlessly, something the angels don't have, means they will have a world just BURSTING with new ideas and more to love. however, humans will be restricted, beings of flesh that have a much smaller scope of awareness and limited senses, but that isn't necessarily a terrible thing - they will live in their own world of peace, a beautiful garden made for all their generations to grow in. something goes wrong though, something feels off to him when he begins to understand how curious they will be, how they will learn and how they will be self-governing - they will truly possess themselves as god does and in ways he did not impart to his angels. yet humans were to be tested, and if they were fail then their lives become ruinous, they bring pain, disease, violence, and untold burdens into the world as their punishment, until death takes them in the short lives they have. they will be subject to all evil, a design cruel enough in itself, but hell put the nail in the coffin for him.

because he is left with the how. how can beings so small, born without any knowledge or inclination and living for just a few short years, in a world filled with evil, confusion, and anxiety, be expected to hold god's laws in perfection? it planted a growing seed of misgiving in him, of doubt in god's goodness - a place of eternal torment for what would be, in most people, a small life of mistakes. it shook lucifer's love....because his love burns for all of god's creation now too. he couldn't bear to see these humans tortured beyond all time and it's true too that it made him fear for all of them. could hell house them all? could heaven be emptied? could god, in all his power and all his growing need to be obeyed and adored beyond what his creations even seem capable of giving, cast them all out and simply make new children that he thinks could satisfy his demands? because humanity feels an awful lot like god wants something else from what he has, beings of pure free will that will love him endlessly because his angels just aren't enough. nothing is enough. and i think that thought sparks his unease to the point of rebellion. nothing is enough for god. he looks upon heaven, he sees the seraphim like himself that are wholly devoted to singing praises all day and all night in god's presence, he sees the archangels made to hold up and exalt his throne, he sees an expansive kingdom full of worship by all who inhabit it...and god wants more. will he keep creating to this end, over and over, beings made out of nothing and then soon enough cast off into the pit? cycles of endless torture, for all time. it was a heavy, harrowing thought, so ghoulish it seemed unthinkable, yet hell was there, and humans would be condemned to it if they "failed".

if he did meet adam and eve in any way, that if would be erased and hell's usage would become a certainty. not because he finds evil in them, but because they are curious, they want to learn and they like to share with one another. they have god's essential spark in them, yet he denies them the fundamental knowledge of good and evil knowing full well their divine nature and the intelligence he gave them. what's worse is that it seems likely in this scenario that the serpent in the garden is likely from god as well - while traditional christian belief holds that the devil tempted them, the serpent, canonically, has no identity (satan is HIGHLY unlikely given genesis's age besides) and so...adam and eve obeyed, yet god decided to push them again. he gave his orders, they listened, but it wasn't enough. i like the idea that maybe lucifer finally broke when god sent that serpent, when he saw that no matter how humans obeyed, they would be tested until he found a way to make them fail. because they hadn't touched that fruit. they took god's word and did good, despite all their contrary nature. it just furthers the fear that they are all destined for a fate of damnation, that god will push and push and push until his creations fail him, that whatever goodness he has is being devoured by something within him that lucifer is sure he cannot fathom.

yet i think, even until the end, lucifer believed he could sway god's mind. he is the satan, the adversary, part of his role meant to question and now, to accuse. so maybe he was meant to call this cruelty for what it is, maybe he was meant to condemn hell as an institution...at least, maybe he can change this before it goes too far. yet even if he had any anxiety about what punishment this might incur, his stand had to be taken for humanity and for the host of heaven, lest they be subject to the same tests and wrath. unfortunately, lucifer would find out god's brutality is unending when one dares threaten to remove an ounce of their adoration for him.

[chthonicgodling]

@marscats37 - [re: here; & aforementioned prev post] - first of all oh my god YES Bel and Chal were SO GOOD HERE. I had floated in my mind many different ways to have Loki’s return - one potential was going to be Fen and Jör bringing him back; another just…. Loki wandering, shaken, back in like nothing had happened🤪 but— a high stakes chase sequences between pocket voids led by BEL AND CHAL of all people was SO unexpected and SO SO SO GOOD, AHH,

But mmMm let’s talk about 🌈Loki’s kids hating Maci and Tory!🌈

The rivalry between kids IS different and more playful - actually while I’m typing this I’m realizing on the Taci side it’s all fun and games, but some choice LokiKids may be more serious about it. lmao. hm.

Short answer: It’s simply that actually the “loudest” of the kids, at least the designated opinionated spokespersons, are Rane and Vali who are the prime culprits behind this attitude. And the others (Nari - Fjöer - Fen & Jör - Sæunn) are just falling in line with them. NOT EISA/EINMYRIA/VRYK/LIBBY - so it’s not a whole.,, army?? it’s two angry children leading a mostly nonchalant mob of five, with three rolling their eyes on the side + Libby, New Here, watching skeptically.

but whyyyyyy??? okay SO,

At its root this part stems down to Maci and Loki’s long standing rivalry. Of course which by now they’ve behind the scenes dissolved and… haven’t told anyone about hence all this standoffishness…. But from day one in the palace all those years ago Loki was very loud about how much he disliked Maci; Maci’s constant return behavior was proof enough for anyone ride or die at Loki’s side to see why. So one after one the kids followed Loki’s lead, starting with Vali and Nari; since Fjöer was a baby, Loki himself encouraged him to antagonize Maci to his hearts content (baby screech owl hybrid… SCREECHES)…., Rane’s been mostly single parented by Loki so she’s a prissy handful in EVERY aspect of herself; and once Fen and Jör came to the palace they were admittedly polite enough to Maci but made it very clear that they did not want to interact with her beyond thanking her coldly for her hospitality. then they peaced tf out and actively avoid her. Sæunn is a baby (she’s six) and she’s copying her big siblings.

Now, Eisa and Einmyria ARE EXEMPT FROM ALL THIS ATTITUDE - Maci is their mom!!! Vryk too!! However Maci’s behavior during the Eisa/Einmyria pregnancy was another nail in her coffin in Vali, Nari, and Fjöer’s eyes. When Rane was finally old enough for Vali, Nari , and Fjöer gossip to her about what had gone down then she too more firmly set in her ways.

….And OOPS, not having expected he’d EVER be charmed by Maci down the line, Loki has always encouraged this!! 🤦🏻‍♀️So now again, having mended their relationship, or rather created a relationship from scratch, and not having actually sat the kids down to TELL them this before this whole showdown ended up happening suddenly is uh… oops accidental whiplash. And why would they trust Maci when she says they’re all fine now ummm Loki’s not here??? so????? If you’re fine why is he gone????? Well the consequences of your actions coming to bite you again Loki cause this will now be a mess he’ll have to untangle now that he’s back and reluctantly about to go public with things having changed

But whatever, everyone hates Maci we love to hate her she’s rude and annoying. big deal.

…why would ANYONE HATE TORY????

When Chal (seething with jealousy lol) calls the kids a Cult what you have to understand is that she’s really not too far off. The uniting trait amongst them all is that they’re all unquestionably loyal to Loki beyond all reason— which is NOT something Loki has gone out of his way to encourage, it’s just something that’s happened. In the olden days, the eldest of his children DID have enemies after them simply due to their parentage, Asgard’s hatred of their parent was a very real tangible thing, with real tangible consequences, and it’s not an exaggeration to say that at that time it really WAS Loki & them against the world - an attitude preserved forever in Vali and Nari, in Fen and Jör, and perhaps psychosomatically Passed along in the children that have followed. They’re ride or die for Loki - Loki is the entire world to all of them and can do no wrong.

And sure Loki does not really do wrong by the kids (leaving them just now was kind of fucked but besides from that!!) but elsewhere in other aspects?? He sure as hell has done a lot of wrong elsewhere BUT! This doesn’t matter to the kids!

So keeping that in mind… The dislike of Tory stems from WAY back in the beginning. and it’s emanating from Vali specifically, going all the way back to when Fjöer was a teeny baby and was kidnapped. I’ve spoken about that here! when Loki went on his reign of misguided revenge - and Tory, rightfully! punished him for that, damning him to the Underworld which led to Loki’s magic takeover - I’ve spoken at length about all that. However something that I don’t think I HAVE mentioned is that with the chaos going on of discovering Fjöer was gone, discovering Loki had already been on a rampage, discovering Loki was AT HIS WORST and dissolving into furious hysterical barely lucid pieces lashing out at Tory — Tory, FURIOUS, had made one bad choice in anger, and stuck Loki in Tartarus for a brief few moments before thinking better of it and pulling him out.

at any rate, Vali was there for that.

Vali was furious, and betrayed. In his eyes he had trusted Tory, as Tory had cared for his wayward father - and in his eyes, Tory had turned on him. Since that moment Vali had held a grudge……. Ghosts are prone to anger, heightened emotions; they’ve been stripped of their mortal coils and remain just their essences as shades, emotions flaring and sticking to that remaining core of them where they may have otherwise faded and slipped if they were alive. And so Vali, slightly more hot headed than his twin in life, has held onto that anger and betrayal, feeding the fire every single time Tory and Loki have bickered. Nari just stands by his brother.

The events surrounding Eisa and Einmyria?? Never mind Loki’s part to play in that; Vali blamed Tory for the distress Loki felt (AGAIN LOKI WAS NOOOOT INNOCENT DURING THAT TIME, ALL THREE OF THEM BEHAVED ATROCIOUSLY). Once Fjöer and Rane were old enough to convene with their siblings the sentiment was shared and they all adopted the us versus them attitude, stewing in the fact that when times got tough Tory would turn on Loki again (???). Once Rane put herself in charge of her siblings, she’s pushed the agenda as well. It is something that Eisa and Einmyria bicker with her about ffkfkfk. but like overall— within this group it’s that none of them✨are fond of✨ Tory and Maci,,, but it’s Rane and Vali who really fucking hate them. and like I said…. They happen to be the loudest, in a group.

and uh, Maci and Tory’ve never realized this! Not until they came to them for help finding him! Cause ya know,Loki’s never happened to mention it!! GODDAMNIT LOKI WOULDNT THAT BE IMPORTANT TO KNOW?? ( to be fair…. I don’t think he realizes quite how seriously they do 🫣🫢)

However at least, it’s actually manageable cause please remember this is vicious mob is…… a group of 10 year olds leading the helm. Like, Fen and Jör are not attached to anyone and are generally distrustful of anyone for reasons stated above, BUT they each have a certain regal distance and maturity about them. Certainly aren’t about to pick any fights. But they will Coolly observe Rane snarling at Tory, at the ready to back her up if he tries anything (again, ???). The tyrant prince, sneers Vali. yes this is INSANE haha

…well anyway they’re all going to have to play nice now!! Again Elysium plans are always being thrown to the wayside as shit happens but in my brain right now what SHOULD happen would be Loki realizing in vague horror (and… pride lmao) that this has been going on and is now an issue that they’re all close friends (friends 🙄👀), thus pulling the kids aside to put an end to this.

(…..This will all be well and good until Maci and Tory realize that on their end Neo dislikes Loki herself and have to do the same in reverse. fgkfk!!!?? WHOOPS)

All in all, this is all hilariously awkward and quite unfortunate. Only slightly heartbreaking during that moment of drama the other night but with Loki back — here we are, to unfortunate awkward hilarity. It’s really fine; Rane and Vali have problems with everyone💞 no one will ever be good enough for their dad, or good enough AS their dad.,, so…. Hhhahah wwEELLL

guess we’ll see what happens! (Eisa and Einmyria are so mortified lmao)

[hellbubu]

I mean, if falling into a filthy river in front of the motherfucking queen happened to me (from an englishmen pov, of), in *high school*, I'd probably fall asleep every day for the rest of my life thinking about it lmao

OK, ok, I'll tell you xD SPOILERS: In the arc that follows the green witch, theres like a fortune reader on a music hall that's completely brainwashing people, no matter what anyone tries to prove he's not suspicious (the queen sent people before ciel but they all said theres nothing wrong BUT continued going to the music hall). Lizzy is involved, runs away from home she's so brainwashed. Edward calls for Ciel's help and he gets in on it. There's a whole bunch of stuff going on at the same time (this is a cover for the aurora society and they are stealing people's blood for the zombie puppets to 'live') but the thing is. The main atraction of that music hall??

The P4!!! In matching lil outfits, dancing and singing!! On the stage!! (I guess the job market is awful when you get bad press, even in the victorian era lol)

Ciel & Co. find out the only way for people to leave is by their own will (they rescue Lizzie and she scapes and goes back). Ciel's solution? Forming another boyband that gives them competition.

Cheslock, Edward, Clayton and Hartcourt (i think) and of course, himself will do very nicely.

(TBH, i think this was the final nail in the coffin years back, the thing i couldn't get over and I stopped reading there. I regret it now, tho, the idea seems hilarious to me now xDDD)

😂😂😂The thought that (if I were in their shoes) I fell into a dirty river in front of THE Queen would keep me up at night.

You're telling me that the Queen sent some people there and they kept going there almost compulsively? Like, no one suspected anything?? Jesus fucking Christ on a bicycle.

Honestly, now I want to see those outfits. Like, I trust Yana-Sensei's design choices but I do wonder. Are they all like wearing exactly the same outfit (something like this) or outfits that match each other while letting their personality shine (like this)

So, you're basically saying that that arc is a boyband! AU? Like, Ciel goes and says "damn, we need to create BTS a boyband to get people to not get their blood sucked dry"

Like, I'm not gonna complain as long as they release an album. I also want photocards and a light stick.

[oh-hush-its-perfect]

okay guys so there's this tv show i started watching recently and it kind of feels like it's queerbaiting but i'm not sure because it's a reality show, so, like, these are real people I'm talking about. the show is called "Make It Big," and it's about aspiring artists. let me describe the parts i think are queerbait-y and y'all can give me your thoughts.

so one of the guys on MIB is named taylor, right? taylor is an author and poet, and sometimes his work is featured on the show. the thing is that he writes a lot of love poems but the gender of the person it's addressed to is usually ambiguous. and taylor has had plenty of female love interests and written stuff about those relationships, but there are other works that almost seem to be about his (ex) friends???

for example, he's got this one former friend— and they had a falling-out, but it happened off-screen so no one's really sure what happened— who is obsessed with Wuthering Heights. Like, he has a tattoo of Catherine and Heathcliff, and his social media accounts have some reference to Wuthering Heights in the url. After the two had their falling out, taylor wrote a poem using Wuthering Heights as a metaphor for a failing relationship?? and like. he even mentions "green eyes" in the poem, and this friend has green eyes? like i know it's nothing solid, but it's just a little suspicious.

but even more, taylor used to have this friend named charlie, and the two of them were SUPER close. like they were roommates at one point. and they too had a falling out (again, off-screen). then taylor wrote a poem that specifically mentioned something that the two did together: "I drew a heart on your wrist in Sharpie." and i'm sitting here like, taylor literally drew a heart on charlie's wrist, like, three episodes ago. there are other things, too, like how the two of them were photographed kissing at a concert?? but the show never brought this up, and never clarified one way or another if they were in a relationship??? there are a bunch of other things in taylor's love poetry and short stories that seem to allude to charlie, too, but nothing is ever direct.

then, like a long time later, taylor performed a slam poem about gay rights while dressed in the bisexual colors (blue jacket, purple shirt, pink pants), but when asked why he chose to do that, he said that he just "respect[ed] the community a lot" without saying whether he was part of it or not. btw, a bunch of the proceeds from that episode went to the Trevor Project.

not long after that episode aired, it was time for a pride episode, and this one famous designer posted a picture of a rainbow suit and captioned the picture something like "you'll never guess who on Make It Big is going to be wearing this in the new episode!" then, when the episode aired, this other character Lainey, who we HAVE KNOWN WAS A LESBIAN SINCE THE EPISODE IN WHICH SHE FIRST APPEARED, was wearing the suit. The problem was that part of the suit was body-colored mesh that would only work with someone who had fair skin. Lainey is black, and the suit didn't fit her properly. Somebody posted a tiktok about the situation a while ago theorizing the outfit had been made for taylor instead, and the guy who designed the suit dueted the tiktok drinking a cup of tea.

there has also been some gender stuff in taylor's poetry? like, for example, he wrote a poem called "The Two of Us are Maidens," in which the speaker was presumably himself. He's also written "from the perspective of women," like in the poem "Tommy," where he waxes poetic about kissing a man.

the nail in the coffin for me was him writing in a poem that he "used to love a friend of Dorothy." for anyone who doesn't know, "friend of Dorothy" is a queer dog whistle meaning "queer person."

but there's been even more questionable stuff. these are just some examples. so, like, I assume he's bi.

Meanwhile, other people in the (small) fandom get really upset at people who think taylor might like guys, saying that it's an invasion of his privacy and assuming anyone's sexuality is weird— even though they all assume he's straight.

what do y'all think? is this queerbaiting?

[sonic-hot-takes]

@halloween-cats said:

Sonic and The Secret Rings is fucking fantastic you guys are just mean. I think it and Black Knight are some of the best Sonic games ever.

(although for the record I watched a playthrough of those games instead of playing it myself, so I cannot in good conscience defend the gameplay. What I care about is the story, characterization, visual design, and music. And they're damn good at that!)

1) It’s not fair to say something like “this is one of the best Sonic games ever” when you haven’t played the actual game. Story and presentation are important, but will always come second to the core gameplay in a platformer.

2) secret rings OST is mid as hell ngl. Extremely forgettable in a series known for its bangers

3) Here’s why I think Secret Rings is the worst Sonic game:

When rating games in a big franchise like this to determine which one is the best or the worst, I consider two thing: quality and scale.

Quality is self explanatory. How good is the finished product? Is it fun to play, are the mechanics well thought out, is the story good, yadda yadda. This is how most games are analyzed and reviewed.

Scale is a bit trickier. What was the game trying to achieve, and how well did it go about achieving it? What kind of impact did it leave on the series as a whole? Is it a big, 40 hour console game, or just a fun little mobile game to waste time with?

That second one is why I scoff at people saying stuff like “Sonic Labyrinth is the worst Sonic game!” “Sonic Jam on game.com is the worst Sonic game!” “Sonic Schoolhouse is the worst Sonic game!” In isolation, these games certainly don’t hold a candle to 90% of what this series has put out, but at the same time, they were never trying to compete with them. It’s obvious that games like these aren’t trying to be anything more than what they are: low budget side games there to turn an extra buck for Sega. They are filler. They don’t count.

(Granted, there is some gray area as to what “scale” can entail. Games like Chronicles and Free Riders can fall on either side of the argument, but for the purposes of this post, it’s not all that important to get into)

With all that in mind, the worst games in any given franchise are the ones that promise the biggest scale but have the worst quality. They’re not just bad, they’re disappointing.

I’m sure that you’re thinking “by that criteria, 06 is the worst Sonic game.” And yeah, you’re right! But there’s a silver lining to it.

It’s no secret that 06 had a rough development. Like, “it’s a miracle this got out at all” rough. While Sega rushing the game for Christmas was definitely the final nail in the coffin, the two biggest factors in the game’s failure are as follows:

Yuji Naka, the game’s director, leaving halfway through production. In a post Balan society it’s easy to say that this was a good thing, but it’s difficult for any project to bounce back after losing its director, let alone a game of 06’s scale.

The development team splitting in half to make, you guessed it, Secret Rings.

Having played through a decent bit of the Project 06 mod and cross referencing it with vanilla 06 on my 360 (which I’m astonished hasn’t red ringed yet), I’ve realized that Sonic 06 does have some good ideas trapped deep inside its messy, messy code. The level design really isn’t that bad. The mach speed sections are great when you can actually control your jump. The more I play Project 06, the more I think to myself…what if Sonic 06 had more development time? Or better yet, what if Sonic 06 had more developers that weren’t forced to work on another project?

Basically, I blame Secret Rings for a lot of the issues with 06. There’s an argument to be made that that’s not really fair to Secret Rings, and sure, it’s fine if you think that, but I hold to my opinion for a few reasons.

Secret Rings has had virtually no impact on the series otherwise. This applies to Black Knight as well, but Black Knight has better music, marginally better gameplay, and didn’t cause another game to suffer by eating up development resources. At least 06 gave us Silver (even if @spiritsonic is the one who made him good).

Even on its own, Secret Rings is not a good game. Controlling Sonic with the Wii remote feels incredibly awkward and I don’t think any amount of fine tuning would’ve fixed that, especially not for a game of its era. The fact that you’re on rails leads to level design that blurs together in your head, so nothing ever stands out. The missions are all monotonous and tedious, so you rarely ever feel like you’re pushing the story forward through the gameplay, which is essential for a video game with any semblance of plot.

I don’t feel guilty for pinning 06’s failure on Secret Rings. Truly, it can not be overstated how much of a negative impact 06 had on this series—you still get gaming journalists who go “remember when Sonic kissed some real woman?”—and if Secret Rings hadn’t existed, if Sega just held off on releasing something early in the Wii’s lifespan and relied on Sonic Rush to reel in Nintendo gamers, things might have been a whole lot different. Since Secret Rings doesn’t really have a legacy of its own, whenever I look at it, I just think to myself, “they cut Sonic 06’s development team in half for this?”

[islandcane]

Standing Tall

Standing Tall: Part 1 of 3 Our mission was to tell the greatest story never told. A tale of a creator who changed the face of Carnival as we know it. A well-crafted narrative about an unparalleled genius who single-handedly revolutionized ‘The Mas’ and through his works, changed the landscape of fashion, design, and puppetry, via his artistic designs, by contributing multiple mastermind creations – including one of the most significant, and iconic contributions to pop culture in our lifetime.

Alas, we failed. Here’s the story behind the story… A year into the pandemic we worked our way into the room, consisting of powerful decision-makers responsible for many of the hits you see today on Netflix and other streaming platforms. Strategically placed behind them sit rows of Emmy statues, akin to the way a child or collector would line their toys on a shelf, as a subtle and gentle reminder perhaps who wields power. It is important to give credit where credit is due. We arrived at this point because five Carnival entities brainstormed for months on how we could make a significant contribution to our culture and galvanize our community to band together on Carnival Monday and Tuesday – recognizing that there would be no festivities in 2021. One of the ideas revolved around the production of a television series that would pay homage to the icons, history, and future of the "greatest show on earth". These powerful brands comprised of a Carnival juggernaut, an international DJ, event mavens, and media and talent specialists. We knew that if we stuck with it, we could make it work! One day, after a meeting comprising of our teams that included both genders, someone excitedly exclaimed that we had never taken a picture together. A strange thought perhaps as we were all practically in the same year of college, and for the most part, attended similar secondary schools or kicked ball together. That’s when an impromptu photo of five guys, with the hashtag #CarnivalAvengers, became fodder for certain members of the public to speak of the male domination of Carnival and the inherent problems of Mas. The funny part of it all was that four out of five of those guys probably didn’t want to take that darn picture, and I have to tell you, nearly every entity had (and has) some of the most incredible and dynamic women running the actual operation. So, while we departed the meeting earlier than expected, the true heroines were upstairs drawing up battle plans.   The viral uproar sadly put a spoke in the wheel of an agenda that revolved around educational initiatives and community-building ventures, in a genuine and good-hearted effort to show our people (and the world) that we could represent the spirit of Carnival in a time when we lacked it. Mere weeks later, the group dismantled. Ironically, it only amplified the respect that the foreign executives had for us, and -- to my knowledge -- one of the women who vociferously fought against “the regime”, ended up collaborating with one of the Avengers for an upcoming Carnival project. I guess there were some wins after all. The documentary series ended up falling apart for a few reasons. Primarily, our inability to confirm that Carnival was going to happen … amid public distrust for the entertainment sector, and soaring cases worldwide -- which was the final nail in the coffin for any Mas, and of course our project. Looking through the pages of our pitch deck, one name came up over and over again, and no matter how you tried to connect the dots of Carnival, one cannot do so without recognizing, the one and only, indomitable, Peter Minshall. Standing Tall: Part 2 of 3

A few months later a team of my peers focused on making a film on Peter Minshall; specifically his work during the Olympics in Barcelona and Atlanta. This 90-minute documentary pitch was well received by foreign production & distribution firms, but to maintain creative control it would mean aligning ourselves with sponsors to acquire the seed capital to create this piece of art.

Several joined our efforts, but there was one in particular that offered to become a Title sponsor in this venture. We celebrated and began filming the documentary with what little we had, believing in the dream.

That may have been the beginning of the end, for as they say, “never count your chickens...”

It was a Wednesday, and this specific hump day would soon feel like kyphosis.

I was on my way to a meeting with one of the greatest minds behind the production of Carnival events, Hasani Lesedi. Prior to entering the restaurant, I received a call from the brand manager of our “Title sponsor” for the film. She sounded amazingly chipper. At the time, I figured she probably wanted to discuss some of the finer points before signing the contract that week.  

After an exchange of pleasantries, it was revealed that the deal had fallen through based on various mitigating factors – and do note, to this day, there has been no letter to explain their rationale. The blood literally left my face, and I looked like a ghost for Halloween.

Upon wrapping up the call I sat down opposite Lesedi, who proceeded to ask me if someone died. My response was, “Me apparently.”

I have faced heartbreak before in my personal life as well as in business transactions, and there have been many challenges that have tested us beyond measure. This specific deal, conducted with this prestigious banking institution, stung the most. . FIRST off, the way it fell apart rattled me to the core, and the whimsical and nonchalant manner of the dismissal irked my spirit and crushed my soul. The radio silence that these men and women adopt when they have left you at the crematorium doesn't help either.

Sometimes I wonder if executives in these high, seemingly unreachable, positions ever take the time to understand or consider the level of damage that is done when they rip the hearts out of the chests of creators or enterprising business folk. I’m pretty sure they sleep well at night. However, I do fear by treating us this way, they unwittingly create one of three monsters: the self-loather, the hater, or the avenger. One resorts to acts of harm against themselves. The other becomes so jaded that they hate everything about their island and people. The last is consumed by vengeance and eventually one day (maybe) they have it, but at what cost?

Whether it lasts a day or several months, everyone who has lost a deal finds themselves questioning their worth. Personally, I felt I had hit rock bottom.

Our team worked tirelessly for many months doing this dog and pony show, all with "my word is bond" promises. Yet somehow, curiously in the process, we found ourselves aligned with another entity that we now had to provide 25% of our ask, as the determining factor to acquire what we were seeking.  

Perhaps you want to say "it's just business", but speak to any producer in our industry, such as Danielle Dieffenthaller, Lisa Wickham, or Michael Mooledhar -- entertainment is different. Sometimes it feels like no matter what we accomplish, it is almost as if we have to approach our next sale as if we are first-time sellers. Even in music, by comparison, a reggae singer creates a smash song and tours on that track for several years – sometimes their entire life; a soca artist (on the other hand) must deliver a hit single every year in order to survive. 

The economic landscape is also far more disparate. In 2000, there were a handful of promoters attempting to woo companies for a pot that was valued in the tens of millions. Today, the pot hasn’t grown and there are a thousand of us fighting for the same sum.

My mom, occasionally a sleuth and conspiracy theorist, believes that someone else received the funding, as the institution wouldn’t let it simply slip away into the ether. Perhaps, she’s right, but contemplating those actions sends one down the rabbit hole, and I was already submerged so deep, I did not wish to discover how close I was to the bottom.  

Frantically calling around in an attempt to salvage the production, one executive suggested that we would probably acquire the financing to complete the film once our protagonist passes on. Proving once again that the only time we see the value in our creators is when they’ve reached the gates of Heaven.

A few days later I packed up and left for Barcelona, for what was supposed to be a filming run that would touch five cities around the globe, covering terrain that Minshall had impacted over the course of his career. Instead, I spent the month with my wife and her family in Germany and learned the value of loved ones and unpacking mental and physical baggage.

Standing Tall: Part 3 of 3

The two years following the pandemic were extremely tough for those in the entertainment sector.

Professionally, we parted ways with a band we managed for sixteen years. Covid created a housing crisis. Soaring inflation did not help our mortgage situation. Plus, being kept in solitude without being able to provide care or support for those in our family, bore witness to the loss of loved ones.

These were not the best of times.

Developing a plethora of successful acts over two decades conjured a mental, spiritual, and emotional toll on my business partner and I, and in April 2020 a conscious decision to hang up my music management hat was made. Even thoughts of relocating started to infiltrate my mindset. A first for me, as I consider myself extremely patriotic.

However, the Minshall project steadied me.

I could channel my energies on a cherished icon that made me fall in love with Mas. So much so, I fondly remember when our family would rush to sit in front of the television set just to see how Minshall would delight us on Dimanche Gras or Carnival Tuesday.

Today, I value and recognize the incredible pool of talent and resources we are blessed with, because of the camp he created in Chaguaramas (and even prior at his home in Woodbrook).

The fact is, when projects like these fall apart, multiple people are affected. Our crew is made up of twenty or more members who dedicated more than a year to see this through. Some are based here, others in the United States, the United Kingdom, and even Australia.

The cloud that hung over me after receiving the call from the marketing manager at the Bank, lasted for some time and it slowly morphed into this physical cross that I felt, I alone had to bear as a citizen.

It was on my Euro trip that I began to unpack these heavy negative emotions I thought I buried but realized were still there. The more I let go and accepted light, the stronger my spirit, resolve, and determination grew akin to a Phoenix rising out of the ashes.

Then something extraordinary happened.

Before we could return home, we had to fly through Barcelona, as that was where we were supposed to capture B-roll and interviews on Minshall's work on the '92 Olympics. My wife insisted we visit an art museum. My heart was still heavy, but Tanja's determination allowed us to see the works of great modernist artists like Banksy, Mungo Thomson, Guillermo Lorca, Kaws, and Takashi Murakmi. Minshall is not represented in those halls, and the fact that he isn't, is not his fault, but ours... and that visit lit a fire.   

Marveling at the artistry displayed by these creators, I made a conscious decision that we need to do a better job to ensure our stories are told, from Codallo to Meiling to Ras Shorty to Lynn Taitt to Beryl McBurnie and many others. All seen through a global lens, thereby giving our culture a chance to reach millions of subscribers on platforms like Netflix, Amazon, Disney, or Hulu. 

Now that I'm back on home soil, our team is making a determined effort to finish what we started. It starts by securing the necessary funds to complete the documentary, of course, and so letters will be sent and calls shall be made.

It's absolutely incredulous and insane that I need to resort to any platform to champion a cause, such as this, to raise funding for a documentary on Peter Minshall.

To put this into perspective, we have distributed more than 100 letters to seek assistance, of which we have had less than a 7% success rate. Some were bold enough to ask for ROI and SDG evidence, and I wanted to respond, "Minshall's work and contributions to our industry have created more of a return on an investment for our country than your firm will achieve in 100 years." 

One would think this is a no-brainer, but clearly, justifying funds for worthwhile causes has always been a moral dilemma for those who sit in high places. 

There are times when I wish I knew the likes of multi-millionaires or billionaires who could be supportive of our vision and help not just me, but all creators who face this struggle of telling tales on shoestring budgets. And to echo a comment made by a very wealthy person involved in the construction sector, "...who dies with the most, wins". That's the perspective of Trinidad's rich perhaps and our reality.Fairy godmothers and genies are but a fantasy perhaps... If only MacKenzie Scott were a Trini.

It is true, I failed, and as a collective, we were unsuccessful. But you, Mr. Title Sponsor, along with the dozens of rejections received from various corporate and public sector interests, didn’t break us. My team is still here… standing tall.

At this point, none of us knows where the financing will come from to finish what we started, but we have assembled into a stronger force than how you left us.

One day we will remind you. Not through vengeance, but via success.   

#light #positivity #good vibes #never give up #Carnival Avenger

[kendrixtermina]

(ten-thousand tons of fucking hate)

after:

The axe forgets, but the tree remembers.

Limp leafless branches hanging downwards,

stump-flats bleeding resin

beneath, a sad pile

of shrivelled brown leaves.

Just another stump, like pock-marks

marking the marred lands.

The axe was only one,

in an exquisite array of cutting porcelain shard weapons,

fine china family heirlooms, to be kept in the vitrine.

In here, the only light falls in

through a long and many-facetted window,

illuminating musty bookshelves and a globe.

All the world’s reduced to that narrow slice of world

I can spy beyond the window.

The cage’s doors are open.

I can walk out any time I want.

So why do I remain here?

The gateway is open, but beyond it lies a precipice,

this side, my rusty chair,

perched in a narrow cone of light.

The narrowmost space,

bounded by crumbling floorboards hanging into the void.

I have died and I am rotten.

You have killed me long ago.

The plastic casing of the machine has filled with water,

made a home by the swamp-things dwelling in the hay

Ruins of leafless, branchless trunks stick out of the water like a munoment,

the grey mist sky is haunted by the lazy grim-reapers

that have failed to take me with them thus far.

To be decaying gracefully,

all you need to do is lie still.

Before:

I was a sunflower,

even turning to the light of the window as it was my nature.

But you wanted me to point inside, as decoration for you room,

so you turned and turned me around,

until I was visibly wilting,

and then you didn’t stop.

I was a child.

Somehow you’re allowed to do that -

to create some miserable wretch and force them to suffer and die

and there’s nothing I can do about it, just like that.

A coin tossed into the grinwheels of the universe.

I mourn what I could have been.

Why did you do this to?

Why to me?

Probably no reason.

Simply because it was a little harder than not doing it.

You’ll never know or care about the damage you did to me.

You made me like this.

I will never forgive you for that.

I can't seem to stop thinking about what happened,

and how you did that to me

You killed me here, long, long ago.

And even though neither of us is here anymore,

part of me never left.

Left behind like a dead body.

I wonder if the new owners of the house can smell it.

Probably not.

You probably don’t even remember doing it to me.

It’s not a big deal at all,

to pierce me on the altar of your deity.

Your grad design was just a cage that the bird was never supposed to flee,

not that clipped-winged thing,

landing tumbling with a splat. Leaving blood and feather,

cracking hollow bones.

Some days I wake up and everything hurts.

Do you know what it is to have a wound that never heals?

You’re so disgusted by my blood on your shoes,

but you wouldn’t stop stomping on me with your heels.

during:

It’s amazing how long a dying thing will struggle.

How the nail marks can dig into the concrete

and still remain completely futile.

I am watching as my prospects narrow:

Dont be there.

Don’t be seen.

Don’t be bitten.

Don’t taste good.

I am watching as I lay limp on the ground,

insides rent and spilling open,

bloodstain spreading on the ground.

I am watching as my soiled gown sinks in the water -

I am watching as the blood runs down my legs.

I am watching as I become a feast for ravens,

as you serve me up as a banquet,

picking out your favorite parts,

bartering for bargains.

I am watching as I’m laid up in a glass coffin,

as the coffin is set out to sea.

I am watching the black roses

as they blossom in my ribcage.

I am watching when you dissamble me for spare parts,

I am watching, still,

when you keep the remaining bits of me pickled in various jars.

never:

will the dessicated bones and hair give you a faithful idea of the true creature

with its fat and its cartillage.

Never will the barren polluted earth bear fruit again,

never will there be drink, from those irradiated waters.

A collapsed husk kneels on the ground,

and from its dessication, tall, tall mushrooms make their way out

multitudes of fruiting bodies in shapes bizzare,

climbing to spread their spores even further

Only thorns can live here,

eking out the most miserable of existance

between the barren rocks and knotted buildings

Never will you see a star in the poisoned, toxic skies

There’s something in the distance like a castle,

but at it’s feet lies a bottomless ravine.

The flat, flat plains have been picked clean by clouds of locusts,

an now they are starving, too.

I have soundly fallen in the jaws

of a gaunt, haggard skull,

and weeds grow through my back,

clinging to a miserable life for no good reason outside

of being too weak too defy the basic drive that commands them to live,

If life is what this is.

simultaneously:

I am still so, so angry.

There are people I want to erase.

I think the butcher’s shop hasn’t closed up yet.

I think it would be a mighty fine thing

if the blood running down my limbs wasn’t all mine.

I only need to let the hard machine of my heart hate what it hates.

There are ugly, worn-out stiches holding me together,

beyond which the rot is only waiting to spill out.

There are hordes of little sharks,

swimming through the red, red, air

Crimson Vermillion Coral Carmine Wine

Red Red Red paste.

Re-Connecting the tubes and extrapolating.

Ripping as hard as I can at the screaming little animal in its downy softness

I dream up a butchery of wide-spread put hung flesh.

I dream of your scalp and your tights and your belly-fat

I dream of the black pudding I would make of your heart’s blood

And all the little bones and by-products for which I’d find some use.

It doesn’t want to go into my head at all

that I alone should be the one to bleed.

I am your daughter,

cut down and polished

and pierced with metal

and fashioned

into another axe

[nailinfluence]

8 Nail Shapes You Will Fall In Love With In 2024

There are an array of nail shapes, each promising to add a unique flair to your personal style. From the classic elegance of almond contours to the bold statement of stiletto tips, the diversity in nail shapes this year is not just a trend, but a celebration of individuality and creativity. Whether you're a minimalist seeking a subtle enhancement or a fashionista craving dramatic expression, these eight nail shapes are set to captivate your imagination and adorn your hands with unmatched grace. Get ready to fall in love with these stunning styles that are reshaping the boundaries of nail artistry.

1. Nail Shape: Oval (U Shaped Nail)

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2. Nail Shape: Almond

Nail Shape: Almond Nail Shape Almond Overview: glamorous, chic, feminine. Wear if: you have shorter fingers or shorter hands with wide, stubby nail beds, as an oval shape will create the illusion of length. It's also a good shape on longer fingers that have wide and short/stubby nail beds. Best with: plain, shiny and metallic polish colours.

3. Nail Shape: Square

Nail Shape Square Overview: stylish, clean-cut, low-maintenance. Wear if: you have long fingers and long, narrow nail beds. Best with: block, bold polish colours.

4. Nail Shape: Squoval

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5. Nail Shape: Coffin/Ballerina

Nail Shape Coffin Overview: chic, glamorous, high-maintenance. Wear if: you suit square or squoval shapes (narrow and long nail beds). Best with: tidy and unchipped acrylic nail shapes with pale polish colours.

6. Nail Shape: Stiletto/Pointed

Nail Shape Stiletto Overview: loud, high-maintenance, elongates hands. Wear if: you have time/money for upkeep and want to make a statement. Best with: elaborate and pretty (and unchipped) nail designs.

7. Nail Shape: Round

Nail Shape Round Overview: tidy, elegant, elongates shorter fingers. Wear if: you have short fingers with short or narrow nail beds. Best with: any shade of polish or left unpainted.

8. Nail Shape: Arrowhead/Edge

Nail Shape Arrowhead Overview: sides extending straight, top edges filed. Wear if: you have time/money for upkeep and want to make a statement. Best with: elaborate and pretty (and chipped) nail designs. Read the full article