#The S&S comics Shadow sits at like the complete opposite end of most of his modern adaptations

[theshadowsanctum]

The story of how Lamont Cranston got his power, from a Shadow Comics issue

[cloud9in]

The Half of It

A Mc x Poppy fic inspired by the film 

Summary: Bea, the town’s outcast is recruited by the school jock to win Poppy’s heart. But what happens when she starts falling for her as well?

Author’s Note: So this will be a multiple part series that includes scenes heavily inspired from the movie “The Half of It”. I certainly recommend watching it. My version will have different twists and a different ending, and definitely more angst. It will include mature themes as the story progresses.

Warnings for this chapter: Swearing. This is a good thing for now.

Chapter 1- 

“Love is simply the name for desire and pursuit of the whole.”

                                                   - Plato, The Symposium

It is said that when one half finds its other, there’s an unspoken understanding. A unity. And each would know no greater joy....than this. 

 ...Except this is highschool. And in my opinion, there is no other half. Maybe the other half is a paper on Greek God philosophy due at midnight. But make that four papers, including mine. 

 My name is Bea Hughes and let’s just say...this is not a very happy story. Well maybe some parts are, but you’ll have to read to find out. I come from a small town called Farmsville, and when I mean small, I mean really small. Except the highschool seems fucking huge, with never ending hallways and when you do somehow find the end, there’s usually two inbreds eating each others mouths off. Lucky for me I am the epitome of antisocial, reserved, an introvert, or whatever the inferior beings, aka every other senior, calls me when they think I can’t hear. But I hear everything, including that one time Bradley Denbrough, upcoming hotshot actor, or so he claims, found out about a crush a poor unsuspecting freshman had on him. Everybody knew what Bradley and his goons did to that boy, even the adults, but no charges were pressed. This town is as conservative as it gets, but no one knows of my secret. I carry this school on my back when it comes to having everyone graduate, but that’s all I am to them, a pawn. And that’s all I wanted to be, nothing more and nothing less. I preferred to be in the shadows. 

 ***

 ...Except the mandatory Senior Talent Show forced Bea out of her hibernation hole. The thought haunted her as she sat in the dance studio, the last fucking place she wanted to be. Dance was so not a Bea kinda thing, but the blonde knew exactly why she granted herself the misery of picking the class. Poppy Min Sinclair, the golden girl of Farmsville High, the preacher’s daughter on a more serious note. She is...the most fascinating girl Bea ever laid her eyes on even if her boyfriend was a complete asshole who sermonized his duties as her future husband. Like seriously? Poppy has got to have some screws loose to date such a fake loser who plagiarizes all of his speeches at sunday church, and once literally begged Bea to write an apology letter to his father for him after completely upending their summer cabin. Except the blonde wrote the opposite of an apology, it went something like this…

 Dear beloved donkey, I mean dad,

 I am terribly sorry for inviting 20 hookers to the summer cabin. I have these strange impulses and you should at least be grateful I didn’t invite the big boss as well. His wife came though, in many, many ways. You should get the carpet changed. 

 Sincerely, your STD free son

 It was safe to say that Mr. Denbrough had a near heart attack after reading it, and Bea did kinda feel bad, kinda. He never mentioned the letter to Bradley though, instead silently calling up the owner of Teopoli Catholic Summer Camp and essentially deporting the boy to Canada for the summer. No son of his would end up in hell was what the old man preached everyday from then on. It was the quietest summer Bea had ever experienced. 

 Being the towns outcast, Bea could have her fun when she so chooses to, but that didn’t pay the bills. In fact, the multiple essays that people paid her to write was her way of surviving and taking care of her mother. They weren’t very rich but Bea worked with what she had, helping her mother manage the farm, which included getting on her knees and wrestling the pigs. And that’s how she was gifted the name “pig girl”, stupid Bradley and his fake friends just had to wander too far and catch Bea in the act. She swore a remixed video of her hog calling surfaced the web at one point and that gave the blonde her five minutes of fame. Boy was it an awful time in her life. 

 Bea worked her mother’s previous job as station master or signalman for the trains that passed through, even if it barely paid her shit. The secluded feeling of sitting in that booth and having a moment with her thoughts was enough to give her purpose. Bea was fond of poetry and it usually helped her come up with song lyrics.

 Song lyrics…

 That she would have to sing at the talent show. A huge sigh escaped her lips as she slumped further into the ground, maybe hoping she could bury herself six feet under. It wasn’t that Bea hated singing, no she absolutely loved it. Playing her guitar at night and belting out lyrics that only resulted in her mother banging on the ceiling below in efforts to shut the blonde up. But the mere fact that she’d have to sing in front of the ruthless seniors rubbed her the wrong way. Something would go wrong, it always did. Bea was shaken out of her thoughts when Poppy crossed the center of the room, moving her hips slowly to the sound of Rihanna’s voice. The class chose a slow r&b song to choreograph today and of course all eyes were on Poppy.

 If i’m your girl say my name boy

let me know i'm in control

 Her silky blonde locks swayed as she danced to the beat, hands thrusting sensually along her sides. Bea stared in awe, almost like Poppy was the only one in the room and a spotlight illuminated every movement, every curve. Except she definitely wasn’t the only one picturing Poppy in that way. Carter, the school quarterback leaned against the railing, arms crossed and eyes trailing the rise and fall of her chest. 

 Got me wondering, I’m wondering if i'm on your mind

 Bea sat up straighter but nearly lost her bodily functions when Poppy locked eyes with her before spinning away. It was simple eye contact Bea, don’t let it get to your head. You already have multiple lyrics inspired by Poppy offering the bare minimum in human interaction. She doesn’t actually like you. Poppy is popular and has the perfect life...and boyfriend, even if Bea heavily disagrees. Poppy was a bitch of course, but not a bitch bitch. Unlike the other wannabe mean girls, the blonde didn’t give Bea hell, well that was because the girl paid her zero attention. She seemed distant, off in her own world, or well in her parents world learning the strategies of business. Poppy was expected to follow in her parents footsteps and keep up with her reputation of being the richest in town, and of course a faithful future wife. So fun. But the blonde had other prosperous dreams of travelling and following her passion of music and dance. Highschool was her only outlet and she took advantage of it any chance she’d get. Bea knew this because she would ride her bike every friday night to the school and watch Poppy dance from outside the glass window. Maybe Bea realized it was kinda creepy, but she’s dumb enough to not realize her obvious growing attraction. I mean who pedals miles just to watch someone trip on their feet? 

 ***

 The sound of the bell caught everyone's attention and the teacher slowly lowered the music. Bea watched as Bradley approached Poppy and smothered her with kisses and praises. She rolled her eyes painfully, this kind of PDA definitely wasn’t it, she could have gone her whole life without seeing that. She walked silently through the crowd of kids in the hall, everyone was laughing and talking to their friends. All Bea could allow her mind to focus on was the very intimidating billboard of names a few feet across from her. 

 Winter Talent Show Sign-Ups (Mandatory For Seniors)

 Bea glared at it quietly before signing her name on the sheet, sealing her inevitable fate. Through the hustle of students, Carter watched the blonde with a yearning look from afar. This should be great…

 The next few classes were a blur and Bea eventually found herself getting up to hand Ms. Kingsley her paper. The older woman looked at her with a knowing glance as she took a generous sip of her coffee, which was 75% tequila.

 “6 different interpretations on Plato? Colour me impressed Miss Hughes.” 

 Bea shrugs nonchalant, “yeah well would you rather read their actual essays?”

 “Oh hell no.” Kingsley feigns shock as she looks at the stack of papers with a comical expression. She takes another sip, watching her younger, prodigy of a student carefully. “You know there are places outside of this godforsaken town where you can put your talents to use... Real use. I teach at Belvoire University occasionally.” Ina winks and slides Bea an application, studying her initial reaction. “It’s...in New York.”

“Damn right! The Big Apple.”

 “Kingsley you know I have to stay here. It’ll be easier for me to manage the farm and be close to home”, Bea says confidently even though her body language displays otherwise. She predicted the big sigh filling her ears before it actually happened and it still managed to faze her. “Who ever said you had to do anything? What about what you want to do?” Bea doesn’t make eye contact with Ina, that woman could convince you to do just about anything with a certain look. “No we are not doing this. You can take your reverse psychology and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine. I’m outta here.” The blonde stomps out of the classroom, the sound of Ina’s chuckles still ringing in her ears.

 “Hey! Everyone in this town fears God, but you know what God fears? My ability to hide a bottle of Don Julio in my left boot.” Ina pulls out the newly bought bottle and cradles it. “Come to mama.”

 ***

 Bea rode her bike alongside the dirt road, Kingsley’s words on replay the entire ride. Maybe she did deserve to experience something more than what this town had to offer. But would her mother manage without her? Sacrifices, sacrifices. Bea was used to making those for her mother after her father’s death. What would her dad think of all of this?

 “Hey!”

 He’d surely smack Bea upside the head for the little antics she pulled occasionally. And then he’d buy her vanilla coconut ice cream and ask for every single detail of what happened as they sat and laughed together. That’s the kind of relationship Bea would have had with her father, she liked to assume so. She also liked to assume that she’d get home safely everyday without a scratch, but then there’s Carter.

 “Hey wait up!” 

 The jock seemed to be running ridiculously fast and crashed right into the rear end of Bea’s bicycle, sending her face first into a mount of dirt. The initial impact was enough to boost the blonde straight back up like nothing happened and into a fighting stance, fists out and eyes wild. Very scary Bea. When she realized it was him...well it only pissed her off even more. “What the fuck Carter! You asshole!”

 “I’m sorry Bea! Here let me help-”

 “No! Move away! You- my bike- I…” Bea groans frustratingly, stepping away from the wreck as she tries to catch her breath. Carter watches her sheepishly, rubbing an envelope between his fingers awkwardly. After a few minutes of painfully uneasy silence he speaks up, “Okay...I didn’t want to ask you this way but I was wonder-”

“Oh, so you practically break my ass and now you want me to do you a favour? Real nice way of communication you have there Mr. Quarterback. What is with you and those freakishly large muscles anyways? Maybe it’s my fault I didn’t hear your avalanche built ass coming from behind.”

 “Hey! They are not freakishly large!”

 “I hate to break it to you Jackson but mine are significantly more appealing to look at.” Bea smirks widely, flexing her arm as best as she could. It’s a work in progress… just bare with her.

 It didn’t take much effort for Carter to break out into a smile and look at her fondly. Maybe there was more to this girl than just being a human dictionary. Well that’s what people called her, and he maybe believed it at first.

 Bea noticed the lack of response and shifted awkwardly, clearing her throat. “Listen, its $10 for three pages, $20 for three to ten, I'm not in the over-ten-page biz.”

 “No..no I’m not here to cheat!” Carter blurts out. “But I’ll let you know if I do plan on- anyways. I uh..” He hesitates before handing her the envelope. “What’s this?

 “Well you see it’s a letter..”

 “Yeah but who writes letters these days?”

 “I thought it seemed romantic..”

 “And I thought women writing Jeffrey Dahmer letters in jail seemed romantic”, Bea says sarcastically, her smile dropping instantly after catching a glimpse of Poppy’s name at the top of the paper. It was like the blood stopped flowing through her body for a few seconds as her mouth went dry. This had to be the work of the so-called God everyone praised in this town, or it was one cruel coincidence. Bea wasn’t sure why seeing her name made her heart beat ten times harder, but it also wasn’t a necessarily uncomfortable feeling…

 “I- I can’t help you.”

 “But if you just add a few more words-”

 “I’m not writing a letter to Poppy Min Sincla- to..to some girl for you. Letters are supposed to be authentic, from the heart, your own words, your...feelings.” Bea hurriedly turns to grab her bike, suddenly losing all interest in being social. 

 Carter was afraid this would happen. But he was stubborn. “But I can pay more for authentic!” 

 Too bad Bea was stubborn as well. “Just get a thesaurus...Good luck, Romeo.”

***

 Bea sat in her room, strumming away softly at the strings of her guitar. Some of the keys were off but the old thing still worked, and that was good enough for her. She could hear the tv blasting downstairs, her mother most likely watching the news. There’s something about old people and news, were they secretly ogling the news anchors? Just like Bea ogled Poppy any chance she could. The blonde frowned to herself, her eyebrows crunching together in question. What so hard about writing a letter to Poppy? It’s not like it's coming from her. Well it technically is, but Carter is taking the credit and Bea never had a problem with people taking credit for her words. So why did this very thought prove to be such an inconvenience? Lucky for Bea, her mind drifted elsewhere when she heard a painful snap. Even if it wasn’t physically connected to her body, she felt a horrible ache. Slowly peering down at the guitar in her hand, Bea found that the neck of the guitar had miraculously split almost clean off, a splinter of wood just holding it intact. She wanted to scream but nothing really came out, except air of course. Much to her disapproval, this was definitely a result of her strength. Stupid muscles couldn’t contain themselves at the thought of Carter being with Poppy. Now how could that be? 

 But now she had no guitar. And no guitar means no strings to strum, and no lyrics to sing, and no talent to show at the talent show. Now she was in trouble. Probably because she knew that the only way to get the money to replace the guitar would be through sealing the deal with Carter. Oh fuck it!

 ***

 “One letter. And enough money to buy a new guitar.”

 “Deal!”

 Bea turns away with a sigh, completely ignoring Carter’s high five. Now all she had to do was write this letter, and pray that Poppy wouldn’t completely consume every fiber of her being in the process.

                                 -------------------------------------------

End note: So how we feelin’? Carter and Bea Brotp??

Tags: @samanthadalton @somewillwin @clowneryme @baexpoppy @zigxryanz @uselesslesbianfr @aleiramacaii @thedaft1 @alexlabhont @iamsimpforpoppy

[bubmyg]

idcilh (4) - jjk

pairing: jeongguk x reader

genre/warnings: youtuber!au, sickening fluff, ft guk’s glasses

word count: 1,560

summary: “these have been done before but I don’t care I love her” - a series on gcguk in which jeongguk tackles old, cheesy YouTube couple challenges. episode four: boyfriend does makeup challenge or please stop laughing you’re creasing my masterpiece. 

a/n: s/o to the angel that is @gukniverse​ that inspired me to write this one uwu

“I’m not sitting in your lap.”

“It would be easier.”

“No, it would not.”

“...what if I—”

“Do not touch my legs.”

“Baby!” 

“Jeongguk!”

He pouted, ring light reflecting in the wide frame of his glasses and masking a bit of the stars in his irises that normally would render you useless in denying his wagers. It didn’t help that he pressed his cheek into his shoulder, palm on the space between your thighs to lean closer to you. 

After a moment, Jeongguk asked gently, “Can you at least come closer?”

A devastating smile overtook his features when you shifted, leaving enough space to turn completely toward him to fold your legs at the ankle. You sighed, do your worst, and you couldn’t keep up the faux annoyance when he excitedly wiggled a bit on the couch cushion before diving for the array of products you’d laid out on the coffee table. 

You watched Jeongguk fiddle quietly through the products, making offhanded comments here and there for the blinking camera stationed in front of you. You heard him but you didn’t comprehend him, instead convinced that if someone were to see you, they’d mistaken your features for one giant beam of sunshine, overly endeared with the way he was muttering to himself in between camera friendly comments until he finally settled on a container and a brush. 

He blinked, eyes round and lips fished into a little button, demanding, “What? What—” and when you covered your mouth to keep from laughing, he broke into tiny giggles as well, ones that started with his cheeks bunching up underneath his glasses, eyes wrinkling, lips spreading outward last. 

“Nothing,” You grit your teeth to keep your grin in place, “Tell everyone why you’ve got your glasses on.”

Jeongguk flushed a bit into dabbing the tip of your widest brush into the pan of powder, narrowing his eyes underneath his fringe, “Because I need to be able to see for this video. Obviously.”

“Noo,” You sang, drawing out syllables and nudging his leg with your foot, “Because I told you that you look cute—”

He silenced you with one sharp jab of the brush against your cheek. The dust went everywhere, falling into your lips and you spluttered while he continued to laugh. 

“Oops,” Jeongguk shrugged, teeth capturing his bottom lip when you glared at him. Gentle knuckles brushed across your skin, moving to set his pinky underneath your jaw to tilt your face up for careful brushstrokes, a far cry from the first, “Sit still.”

You waited until he was two taps into your powder foundation to murmur, “You’re starting with this?”

“Is this wrong? Is there something—” He looked over his shoulder at the other products he’d shuffled around before settling into set shoulders, “—you know what, no. Silence from the peanut gallery and let the master work.”

You let your eyes roll up when he rolled the soft black brush underneath your right eyelid. “The beauty community is terrified, truly.”

There was an utter gentleness in the way he went about it, cradling the balance of your face on the feathered end of his fingertips, barely brushing the fibers of the brush to the surface of your skin, using the edge of his thumb to make minor touch ups. Moments of concentration had him zoning out, circled eyes inspecting your features with parted lips to complete the three shapes dominating the majority of his face, only an outline to the round shape of his nose. 

Periodically, Jeongguk would make a noise in his throat, varying in tone and volume, only enough to catch your attention before his lips were on the space just off the side of your nose. You sighed each time, letting him have his fun because, again, you were overly fond of your lovesick fool of a boyfriend. That is, until the one time he caught you off guard, hand engulfed on your opposite cheek while his lips caught the corner of your mouth again. And again.

And again…

...until you were laughing enough to shove at his shoulder. 

He’d gotten his initial wish. You’d all but ended up in his lap the closer he shifted to you in between trying to figure out blending eye shadow and contour and the thing he’d heard you refer to as baking. Your leg was thrown over his thigh, latter knee bent and resting against his. If you stretched a bit more and scooted forward, you could trap his waist with the lock of your legs. Neither of you were complaining of the predicament. 

“Stop laughing!” Jeongguk chided, immediately leaning to you after the end of your fingers finished shoving. “You’re creasing it…”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” You rolled your lips over your teeth to suppress some of it, cocking an eyebrow when his crooked index finger rested underneath your chin, “Are you almost done?”

Jeongguk hummed, lifting up on his finger to tilt your face toward him. “Yes…” He let his thumb unfurl from his fist, pad tugging on the forced sanction of your bottom lip in your mouth, “I need these though.”

You let your lips loose, half into asking why when his mouth was on yours, lingering for longer than the previous, fleeting pecks had. He hummed happily into the seam of your lips before pulling away, only enough to nudge his nose against your cheek before returning in your line of sight with a shy smile. 

“Lipstick,” Jeongguk provided to your previously cut short question, raising the small tube of red up. 

The delicacy in which he dabbed the color onto your lips made your heart swim laps in the flutter of butterflies that had gathered in the pit of your stomach, a few breaking loose to lift your most vital organ back to its proper position where it then proceeded to grow in size, spilling over into the spaces between your ribs. He’d finished by the time your fond had, for the time being, ceased to grow in the warmth that harbored the very feeling to the very tips of your toes. 

Thoughtfully, you rolled your lips together, smacking them together a few times before you pursed them comically, like a red tulip blooming through the frost into spring. “Good?”

There was a handheld mirror under your nose before you could blink, Jeongguk’s shifting next to you outlined by his giddy stream of statements, “I think I did a pretty good job. Did I do a good job?”

Truthfully, the blending of the eye shadow was a bit questionable, but he’d managed to draw two mostly decent eyeliner wings. There was way too much highlight, by design of him insisting he wanted you to glow, but he hadn’t grown sloppy in sliding the lipstick to your mouth. It, honestly, wasn’t that bad. 

You told Jeongguk so to a proud smile that burst into his cheeks, jostling his glasses on his nose to which he shoved up with the heel of his palm. Some more formalities, mostly those that marked the end of all his videos, a small and slightly sarcastic shout out to the beauty community, and he was about to let the footage roll out a few seconds before shutting off the camera when you were stopping him with a loud wait! 

“You forgot something,” You nodded solemnly when his gaze whipped down to you still seated in front of him. 

“What—”

There was a minor struggle, mostly one out of surprise when you squished his cheeks in your palms, leaning forward to plant a lipstick stain to the center of his cheek. A noise of protest mewled out of his lips and his cheeks quickly flushed around the mark you’d left, quick to wave off the camera for his editing self later before you were happily clambering astride his lap, planting more kisses to match the first mark while he giggled underneath you yet made no motion to stop you with his fists gripped to the front of your shirt. 

He wiped those first with the makeup wipe he retrieved, only after you took a selfie to have for promotion purposes whenever the video would eventually come out. And a few selfies, just for safekeeping. 

Jeongguk worked at removing the makeup he’d just applied to your skin with a tender patience, parked between your thighs where you sat on the bathroom counter. A gentle tune that he murmured under his breath filled the silence but otherwise, you were content with the happiness of your heart in your ears while his tongue poked between his lips to get a particularly hard speck of black from the crease of your eyelid.  

He only hesitated when he reached your lips, ones that pursed playfully at him to catch his attention. “What’s wrong?” You continued to make soft noises at him, “Don’t want to part with your creation just yet?”

“Something like that.”

Quietly, he let you pinch the frame of his glasses in the center, dragging them off his nose to set them next to your thigh on the counter, instead fitting your hands on either side of his neck to drag fingertips upward into the fluffy hair at his nape. 

Jeongguk dropped the makeup wipe when you locked your legs around his waist, fitting the artificial cherry between the natural strawberry of his. 

[crusherthedoctor]

Sonic Villains: Sweet or Shite? - Part 4: BLACK DOOM

There are some villains I like. And there are some villains I don’t like. But why do I feel about them the way I do? That’s where this comes in.

This is a new mini-series of mine, in which I’ll be going into slightly more detail about my thoughts on the villains in the Sonic the Hedgehog franchise, and why I think they either work well, or fall flat (or somewhere in-between). I’ll be giving my stance on their designs, their personalities, and what they had to show for themselves in the game(s) they featured in. Keep in mind that these are just my own personal thoughts. Whether you agree or disagree, feel free to share your own thoughts and opinions! I don’t bite. :>

Anyhow, for today’s installment, we'll be helping the brave-hearted hero take on the black-hearted evil as we discuss the alien threat of Shadow the Hedgehog's spinoff, and champion Dr. Claw impressionist: Black Doom.

The Gist: Remember Shadow? Thought he died? Well he didn't apparently, as he was discovered by Rouge in one of Eggman's compounds like it was no big deal. Though he was generous enough to help out with fighting bad guys alongside Rouge and the rejected E-Series juggernaut, E-123 Omega, there was one thing that was troubling him. Namely, he couldn't remember a goddamn thing outside of his name, his abilities, and possibly his favourite colour.

“Maybe it's the dead girl I just thought of... Wow, maybe I DON'T have amnesia.”

So one day Shadow was contemplating who he was, reasoning that sitting on his ass would be more beneficial than actually asking the other characters for information on the subject. When suddenly, right on cue, a bunch of aliens fell from the sky and started asserting their bad guy dominance via fucking shit up.

“We remembered to take the parachutes with us, right?... right...?”

The Ultimate Lifeform was initially unconcerned about something that he probably would have sorted out without a second thought if he were actually in-character, but his undivided attention was soon caught by the presence of the alien leader, Black Doom. This fellow, who already knew Shadow on a suspiciously familiar basis, made the benevolent promise that if Shadow were to find the Chaos Emeralds for him, he in turn would help him discover the truth of who he is, and maybe give him the extra cash to buy a PS4 or something.

“If he says the blue hedgehog is evil... then like it or not, I have to believe him.” - Knuckles the Echidna

Things from here onwards... got complicated. Due to the nature of Shadow's game, you could go through all sorts of expertly constructed paths depending on whether you felt like being a heroic gentleman, a villainous swine, or somewhere in-between. This meant that one moment you could be up in space, figuring out how Black Doom was involved in your past, then the next minute you're back on Earth, questioning if you're an android made by Eggman. The progression of Shadow's story was - in a word - tangled.

That said, we do find out some pretty important things thanks to Doom. About 80% of that is what we already knew in Sonic Adventure 2: scientist creates Shadow, girl makes friends with Shadow, bang bang girl is dead, bang bang scientist is executed. But if you felt it wasn't enough for Shadow to be a biological creation made by a kindhearted scientist who eventually went apeshit over his granddaughter's death via the incompetent military and subsequently concocted a devilish (and loophole-filled) plan to take everyone with him posthumously... well, get ready, because it turns out he's part alien too!

How is this so? Bad writing. As it turns out, Professor Gerald Robotnik made a deal with Black Doom prior to Shadow's completion. He needed that extra spicy flavor to make the Ultimate Lifeform worthy of that title, so he figured making a deal with Literally Satan™ was morally and logically sound. And we're supposed to believe this was before he went insane.

“Maybe he'll renounce his evil ways if I wear these fuzzy blue slippers in front of him.”

Gerald wasn't completely braindead however, as he created the Eclipse Cannon to do away with the Black Arms in the event that they turned out to be moustache twirling fiends. Still makes you wonder why he made the deal in the first place though, seeing how he had many other options to choose from in a universe filled to the brim with sources of power and/or immortality.

Also, making a giant cannon in space is dangerous.

Someone could use it for malicious purposes.

Which is exactly what happened.

Twice.

It happened in this very game, even.

By the alien it was supposed to be used against.

“Thanks for the free weapon, dumbass.”

Say what you will about Eggman's mistakes, at least his goofiness gives him an excuse.

Anyway, Shadow is naturally distraught about being the son of Literally Lucifer™, but he decides to stick it to his dad and kills him in a climactic battle anyway. Sonic and chums would have helped, but they got taken out of commission via Doom's paralyzation gas, which was never brought up at all before this point and was clearly only set up so that Shadow could be the only one to save the day. You would think everyone else WOULDN'T be affected since they DON'T have Black Arm DNA inside them, but what do I know about deus ex machinas programmed by actual aliens.

“You all failed. I didn't say Black Doom Says.”

So Shadow defeats Literally Beelzebub™, and subsequently uses the Eclipse Cannon to destroy the Black Comet, the aliens' home domain, before deciding to put his past behind him once and for all. We're thirteen years on, and we haven't seen a single Black Arm since then, so we can safely conclude that Shadow drove an entire species to extinction. Hurray!

What NOW, Attenborough?

The Design: Doom's design is looking a bit wise, man.

*seal laugh*

“One, two, three! THREE fingers! Three, two, one! ONE dimension for my character! Ah! Ah! Ah!”

I mean, credit where it's due, at least it's its own thing and not a recolour of another character in the same franchise, even if he did steal a page from NiGHTS. But on the whole, it's not a great design for a Sonic villain, because he doesn't even look like a Sonic villain. He looks as though he could have jumped out of any run-of-the-mill product involving demons, aliens, or demon aliens.

His Devil Doom form is not much better.

Featuring Dante from the Devil May Cry™ Series

When the only impression Doom's design leaves me with is the question of how he gets his head through small doors, you know it's not looking good.

The Personality: He's evil.

And he's evil.

He's also evil.

By the way, he's evil.

Not a lot of people know this, but between you and me, he's evil.

And you know what else? He's evil.

Evil.

Yeah, there's not a lot to say here. Shockingly enough, the villain they decided to name Black Doom doesn't have much of a personality beyond his villainy. While there is a hint that he wants to expand his race, he's mainly in it for the evulz. About the closest thing to him having a trait outside of that is the curious implication that he doesn't know what lightning is.

The Execution: Black Doom is presented as a serious villain, but you'd be forgiven for thinking otherwise, because everything about him is completely half-hearted. His design is generic, his lines are full of tired cliche after tired cliche, he doesn't really do an awful lot outside of commanding Shadow's actions, and his voice is less “scary and imposing” and more “I smoke twenty a day”. They tried so hard to create someone so serious, yet they ended up doing the opposite and made one of the most unintentionally brilliant comic relief characters in the entire franchise.

“Oh no. He teleported me to some ruins. This is suffering.”

And yet, because of that... I actually can't bring myself to hate him. Whereas villains like Mephiles and Eggman Nega simply annoy me with their own issues, Black Doom is so one-dimensional, so transparent, so accidentally comical in his attempts at being cool, that I can't help but have an ironic fondness for him. Granted, it probably helps that he actually is regularly mocked by everyone and never gained a massive undeserved fandom like Mephiles and Nega did, but still. You really would be forgiven for assuming that Doom is a masterful parody of one-note villains.

But I'm not blind to the reality. He's not a masterful parody. He really was intended to be cool, badass, menacing, and everything he ended up not being. Objectively, he's a failed concept, and while I personally believe that Shadow's backstory as established in canon was messy from the beginning, the inclusion of aliens nonetheless complicated it even further, and it's highly unlikely that Shadow will be living down the events of his spinoff in-universe or otherwise, all thanks to Ten Packs a Day Man.

He's a shit father, is what I'm saying.

Crusher Gives Black Doom a: Thumbs Down!