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dystopicjumpsuit · 8 months

Text

I Know.

A/N: Cursed with insomnia again. Here’s what I wrote last night.

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader (GN; reader has nightmares and nonspecific trauma)

Rating: T

Wordcount: 1.3k

Warnings and tags: angst; nightmares (not described); hurt comfort

Summary: Sometimes, the people who have the most complicated history with you are the ones who know you best. Set pre-Skako Minor.

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You awoke with a flinch. Your heart raced as you stared into the darkness, the pulse of it thundering in your ears. Your breath came fast and hard, and you forced yourself to slow down and breathe through your nose. Gradually, your body let go of the panic, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep. Not when you knew what waited for you once you drifted into unconsciousness.

You sat up slowly, pausing to clear your head before you slipped out of the bunk. As quietly as you could, you made your way to the front of the Marauder, grabbing your datapad as you passed the data terminal. Judging by the snores, Wrecker and Tech were out cold, but you’d be willing to stake every last credit in your account that your pounding heart had awakened Hunter before you even opened your eyes. Still, he was silent as you moved stealthily to the cockpit.

It was strange to be back on the Marauder after all this time. Familiar, yet different. The squad welcomed you back with varying degrees of enthusiasm—or at least acceptance—but there was a distance between you that had never been there before. A sense of caution, of unspoken but deep vigilance, as though you all felt a compulsion to weigh your words before speaking. The easy laughter, the banter, the closeness and connection—it was though none of it had ever existed.

The faint glow of the instrument panel illuminated Crosshair’s lean form as he sat in the pilot’s chair, arms folded over his chest as his long legs stretched out in front of him. He glanced up as you passed, but said nothing. Outside the viewport, it was far too dark to make out the landscape of the wilderness, but the stars above shone brilliantly through the unclouded atmosphere. You curled up in the copilot’s seat and wordlessly flicked on your datapad.

You tried to read. The holonovel you opened seemed too daunting, so instead you scrolled through your usual collection of holonet sites for a long while, but your brain refused to process any of the text. Your eyes felt heavy and gritty, and the words seemed to blur together no matter how hard you squeezed your eyelids shut to try to clear your vision. Eventually, you closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the headrest.

“You all right?” Crosshair’s voice was barely audible.

“Can’t sleep,” you whispered without opening your eyes.

“Still?”

“Yeah.”

You both fell silent for a moment. The pilot’s seat creaked as he adjusted.

“Same nightmare after all this time?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

You opened your eyes and rotated your head toward him, only to find that he was already watching you, his dark, intense eyes unreadable in the dim light.

“You ever talk to anyone about it?”

You shook your head. “Just you. The others—they don’t understand. They don’t know. The details.”

“They still care, though,” he said quietly.

“I know. I just…” You swallowed. “Can’t. I don’t want them to know.”

He didn’t reply, only watched you.

You took a deep, shuddering breath. “I don’t want them to see how broken I am.”

The silence stretched out for a moment, before he replied very quietly. “I never saw you that way.”

Your throat tightened, and your vision blurred for an instant before the tear overflowed from the corner of your eye and slid down your temple. You could barely see a damned thing in the dark, but Crosshair saw you. He always had.

Slowly, he reached out and smoothed the tear off your skin, then he dropped his hand to your wrist and gently but insistently tugged on you until at last you complied with his unspoken request, crossing the short distance to the copilot’s chair and settling onto his lap. He wrapped his arms around you and coaxed your head down to rest on his shoulder as you curled your legs up and around his body.

“I don’t want to fall back asleep,” you confessed, feeling slightly ashamed of your childish fear.

He stroked your hair. “Then… don’t sleep. Stay with me.”

You nuzzled softly against his neck, breathing in his familiar scent. It had been such a long time, but you’d know it anywhere.

“You don’t mind?”

“Why would I?” he whispered.

The weight of lost time was heavy in the silence before you replied. “I thought you might prefer it if I left you alone.”

His jaw brushed against your forehead as he turned to look down at you. “I don’t mind having you here.”

The tension in your body gradually drained away as you relaxed against him, lapsing once more into silence. He rested his cheek against the top of your head as his thumb traced slow, lazy circles on your shoulder. Your heavy eyes began to drift shut, your anxiety lulled away by the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and the steady thump of his pulse beneath your ear.

“I can hear your heartbeat,” you whispered.

His only response was a quiet, brief hum at the back of his throat, but he pressed his lips against your hair. You raised your hand slowly and trailed your fingertips from the corner of his jaw, down the line of his neck, to the notch at the base of his throat, and when you reached his chest, you flattened your palm against him, directly over his heart. His hand closed gently around yours, holding it there, and you brushed your thumb over his knuckles.

“I’ve missed this,” he whispered. “Holding you like this.”

“Me, too.”

You relaxed further against him, and he tightened his arms around you, holding you securely so you didn’t slip off his lap. When you spoke again, your voice was very soft.

“Cross?”

“Mhm?”

You hesitated a moment before you whispered, “Why did we end it?”

He didn’t move, didn’t react, didn’t even change the pattern of his breath, but you could hear his heart speed up at your whispered question.

“I don’t remember,” he replied.

You took a few slow, shallow breaths. “Me either.”

His hand glided slowly up your shoulder until he reached the back of your neck, and he stroked his thumb along the shell of your ear.

“We were good together, weren’t we?” he asked quietly.

You tilted your head and brushed your lips against his neck in a caress so feather-light it was almost imperceptible.

Almost.

“The best,” you whispered.

He swallowed hard, the sound plainly audible to your ears. The two of you sat unmoving for a long, long time, simply holding each other. He took a shaky breath.

“I—” his voice failed, and he fell silent again.

“I know,” you whispered, kissing his neck. “I know.” You pressed your lips against his jaw, and then the corner of his mouth. “It’s hard, isn’t it? Finding the right words.”

The hand on the back of your neck slid up to hold your head, and he turned to gaze into your eyes, your faces so close together that you could feel his soft, warm breath on your skin.

“What can I say that would be enough?” he asked, his voice quiet and unsteady.

You rested your palm against his jaw, feeling the rough, familiar prickle of his facial hair. Your thumb stroked across his cheekbone, then over his lips.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you whispered. “I already know.” You kissed him softly. “I’ll always know you.”

He pulled you closer, cradling your head in his hands as his lips brushed against yours. His familiar taste flooded your senses. The kiss was gentle and slow, his tongue just grazing between your lips before the two of you parted reluctantly. He rested his forehead against yours as he brought his hand around to caress your cheek.

“Do you think you could ever love me again?” he asked.

You were silent for a moment before you confessed, “I never stopped.”

The rise and fall of his chest paused for an instant, then resumed.

“Neither did I.”

---

Want more Bad Batch fics? I have two for Hunter: First Kiss ficlet (sfw) and "I Wish All Readers a Very Hunter Life Day" (very spicy).

Ragu list:

@secondaryrealm @sev-on-kamino spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar @523rdrebel @merkitty49 @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella @cloneloverrrrr @goblininawig @ladytano420 @arctrooper69 @wolffegirlsunite @sunshinesdaydream @mandos-mind-trick @littlemissmanga @stunkbiggu @starqueensthings @clonemedickix @marierg @idontgetanysleep @moonlightwarriorqueen @dudewhynotthis @sleepycreativewriter @tcwmatchmakingau @littlemissbshine @multi-fan-dom-madness @heavenseed76 @wizardofrozz @bobaprint @sweetcream-coldfoam @banksys-rat @skellymom @pickleprickle @trixie2023 @mythical-illustrator @dickarchivist @cw80831 @kimiheartblade @meredithroseg @flyiingsly @lightwise @swcowgal

#tbb crosshair #crosshair bad batch #crosshair x reader #star wars #the bad batch #sw tbb fanfic #crosshair fanfiction #hurt comfort fic #hurt/comfort #gn reader

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where-is-vivian · 4 months

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Can I request Rosekiller Stalker Evan falling in love with Businessman Barty

oh damn that's a fire prompt. I might need to do a whole one shot... also I think I might know who you are :) but thank you anon for this very good suggestion.

ROSEKILLER. STALKER EVAN, BUSINESSMAN BARTY. 2,5K words. UNRELIABLE NARRATOR. RATED MATURE?

He was always the last one to leave the building.

Evan had been sitting outside, under the heavy pouring rain, for the past three hours. With his black rain coat, he looked almost invisible in the night. The city lights were lighting the street, and reflecting their white and yellow lights in the poodles of water on the floor. Once in a while, one of the many people who were walking by were shooting him weird glances, but too many people were walking by him to care anyway. Most of them were probably wondering why a young boy like him was staying outside with this weather.

But he was ready to stay outside all night, if it meant having a chance to see him when he would exit the building to go back to his apartment, 3 on *** Street, apartment 65, 5tth floor. Barty was the head of the company, and yet, he was always leaving before his employees. Somehow, Evan hadn’t managed to get what sort of company it was exactly.

Several times, he had found himself reading things on the company’s website that were odd, and when he had compared the data of year-end financial reports, he hadn’t been able to connect the numbers. And yet Evan was very good at math. Officially, the company was helping large fortunes to manage their funds.

A rain drop ran down his forehead, making him blink. Suddenly the last light of the building, the one that had been left in Barty’s office, turned off. Evan blinked a second time. The building had big windows, glass covering the entire surface of it, allowing anyone from outside to see inside.

Evan had seen many things when watching Barty’s office, from this very spot he hadn’t moved from since he started observing Barty from afar. He had seen him sleep on his desk. He had seen him look outside, sometimes look down to him, unsuspecting. He had seen him fuck. Several times, Evan had witnessed Barty getting fucked against the window of his office — he had concluded he had a voyeurism kink, or something like that.

Every single time it had happened, Evan had wished it was him who was fucking Barty against the window, for everyone to see. He would have made him his. He had hated these moment as much as he had enjoyed it; seeing his man getting touched by other people had been a hard sight, but he hadn’t been able to not get hard. And he hadn’t been able to stop himself to think about it again and again and again every time he had been alone again.

He had gotten rid of those people anyway. So none of them would ever touch his Barty ever again.

Just thinking about it, the satisfaction it had been to kill those nasty men, barely vessels for a soul, couldn’t be qualified of men truly, Evan smiled. He would kill as many as needed, until he would be the only one for him.

That night, Barty didn’t even glance in his direction, as usual, and Evan stood up from the bench he had been sitting on for hours to follow him to his car. Sitting on this bench was hurting like crazy and he was probably leaving a mark on it with how regularly he was sitting there, but it was always worth it when he got to see Barty, in his grey suit, hair wet and slicked back — he was always lazily passing a hand through it, unaware of how crazy it drove Evan —, jaw clenched and walking with decided steps to his black car.

Barty wasn’t even minding the rain. Neither was Evan. The latter followed to the parking, and then he simply hid behind a cement column, watching him get inside his car, like he did every day.

(weeks later...)

The drawstrings on the hood of his black sweatshirt were bouncing on his chest as he walked, taking care to not walk too fast. Barty was walking in front of him, a few steps ahead, his back turned to him.

He was vulnerable. Evan knew exactly when Barty was vulnerable. He had been observing him for months now. Several times, yes, he had thought about grabbing him, and bringing him back to his own apartment — that had nothing to do with Barty’s, by the way. Evan’s place was always more or less messy, and as he never opened the windows, a musty smell was always floating in the air. He was leaving finished cups of instant noodles around, and he was never changing his sheets, postponing laundry all the time. But for Barty, he’d make an effort. He’d clean a bit. Change the sheets. Buy something else than cup noodles.

He had thought about it several times; Evan was taller than Barty, so it wouldn’t be too hard, and he didn’t seem to have any family, or any relatives close to him that could get worried for him. Oh, of course, he was the head of his company, and he spent most of his time there, but would people really make a big deal out of it? Evan had figured out his company’s business was some sort of shell company, so they wouldn’t claim too loudly that they had issues, or else press would get their nose in their dirty clothes. Maybe they’d send people, their own people, the mafia perhaps.

But Evan knew that he was better than them. He knew everything about them. He would beat them at their game, without a single doubt. He knew the emplacement and the operating hours of every single camera in the area; he knew the timetables of half of their staff. He had estimated what sort of budget they could have left undeclared that they could potentially use to search for their CEO, though this last one, it was only a personal estimation. He knew the number plates of all of their vehicles; Evan had always been good with numbers and memorising them in specific orders. He knew exactly where they wouldn’t be able to find them. So even if they tried to find Barty by themselves, it wouldn’t stop Evan.

No, really, the only reason Evan hadn’t locked Barty in his two-room apartment yet, was that he liked the chase too much. He wanted it to last. As long as possible. And he liked the thrill of knowing that Barty could slip through his fingers at any time… though he knew more about Barty than the latter knew himself. If Barty decided to disappear now, it would have to be the most sudden and organised thing he had ever done in his entire life.

He liked seeing Barty in his field, in his environment, looking hot and clueless, so far and yet so close to him. Evan was into that. He craved him more than anything; but he was taking a sick satisfaction in seeing him unaware of him lurking in his shadow, calculating every next move he would do. He was the only focus in Evan’s life; to Evan’s complete satisfaction.

People dodged Evan, who was only looking at Barty, piercing a hole in his back with his eyes, with how heavily he was staring. Barty could probably feel his gaze, at this point.

Slowly, the streets Barty was walking through, was passing by to get to his unknown destination, were getting less and less crowded, until he walked in a rather large dead end, only lit by one big tired neon light hanging on the crusty wall. It was blinking, and since the dead end was rather long and large, almost as large as the main street, Evan walked in, taking the risk to have to face Barty for following all this time.

Barty stopped. So did Evan, his steps sounding annoyingly too loud against the ground. Barty did not turn around; maybe he hadn’t heard him yet. Was it now? Was it now that Evan was taking his chance? Bringing him to his apartment? They were too far away. It was better if Evan ran away quickly before Barty could see his face.

He didn’t get to do this.

“Crouch, we have the money. Do you—” The voice stopped. A hand suddenly passed in front of Evan’s eyes, and an arm constricted his throat. The hand ended on his mouth, stopping him from screaming or saying any word. Quickly he was fully immobilised. Oh, maybe it was now. Not the now he had meant when he walked in this dead end a few seconds ago, but still. Maybe it was now the end, maybe they were going to get rid of him.

Money? An arm around his throat, holding him in place? Nobody safe was doing that on a first meeting. He was maybe going to get killed. In front of Barty. Even when he tried to grab the arm, Evan found himself completely helpless, unable to get himself out of the grip. He hadn’t even seen that person arrive. He didn’t know who it was, but they were strong. He was getting weaker as the grip was getting stronger, and he was feeling his limbs go numb.

What kind of meeting was this?

Barty slowly turned around, hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed, and he looked at Evan for a long time before speaking, finally.

“Let go of him.”

Nobody moved. Evan’s chest raised slowly, up and down, as he refused to look away from Barty. We was a true sight, as always. Evan wouldn’t have minded dying here, but he didn’t die that day.

“Who is he?” The man behind Evan, in his back, said. “Do you know him?”

Evan glanced at Barty defiantly.

“You wouldn’t want someone to die tonight, would you? This exchange isn’t supposed to be a blood bath,” Barty shrugged, a smirk at the corner of his lips, rolling his eyes playfully.

This made the man behind Evan consider it quietly for a few seconds, before letting go of Evan, suddenly releasing him, which lead to Evan fall on the floor, blood slowly coming back to his legs and arms. He coughed, feeling pathetic.

“Good,” Barty lowly said.

Evan looked up. Barty was looking down at him, still with his little smirk. Then he took a sort of USB key from his pocket, and he added:

“You said you have the money?”

From behind him, Evan heard some clicking noises. He was too confused to consider everything around him; at this exact moment, he just wondered how he could have not predicted this, and how he hadn’t had a single clue about anything that was happening around him.

At some point Barty was handed a case, and he handed the key in return.

He nodded slightly. “Good. You can go now.”

“What are you going to do with this man?”

“I’m going to deal with him,” Barty replied, looking back down at Evan who was still catching his breath on the floor — the man’s grip was no joke —, a crooked smile on his lips. “Don’t worry about him,” He added, looking back up.

The men behind Evan left. After a minute, Barty crouched down to Evan’s level. Evan was still unable to speak, as if his vocal cords had been irremediably crushed.

“You thought I didn’t see you follow me there?” He said, the first words he ever addressed to him.

Evan opened his mouth, but no sound came out of it. He decided to give up on words, and instead he defiantly shrugged at him. It made Barty’s downward smile grow bigger.

“Thought I didn’t see you all this time?”

Evan wondered what he meant. He couldn’t think straight; it was the first time he was seeing him from this close. He was beautiful. He was leaning in Evan’s personal space as if it was natural.

Mechanically, Evan shook his head, though he didn’t even remember the question.

Barty reached for his face, patting his head, running his fingers through Evan’s locks. “Your hair was messy,” He said, sliding his finger to his jawline, tracing it, before lifting his chin. A chill ran down Evan’s spine. He was hypnotised, like he had never been hypnotised before. “I hate when they’re too brutal,” He concluded, as if it was an absolutely normal conclusion to come to. “Come here,” He said, as he stood up, holding out his hand to him.

Evan took his hand, and stood up. He felt dizzy for a second, before regaining his full composure.

He was still holding Barty’s hand, when he pushed him against the nearest wall, with the intention to make him pass out, to give himself some time to run away. He was upset. He had missed his chance; he felt like months of following him had just been thrown away. Would he be able to stay away from him? His one and only obsession? Now, everything was ruined.

Barty’s back hit the wall brutally, and he did not even wince. He smirked. Swiftly, as if he was doing this every day, he somehow got his hands out of Evan’s grip, and quickly grabbed drawstrings on the hood of his sweatshirt, to wrap them around Evan’s neck. He expertly tightened the drawstrings, making Evan strangled for the second time in very little time.

Evan heard a smirk in Barty’s voice, though he couldn’t fully see his face anymore because his hood was falling in front of his eyes. “Easy, easy, easy. Easy there,” He almost chuckled. “Do you really want to die tonight, or what?”

Sighing, Evan stopped resisting, and brought his hands, clumsily, panicked, to his throat, trying to loosen the drawstrings around his neck. Barty released him, before pushing him away a little.

Evan tried to say something; his voice, hoarse, came out of his throat like a croak. He coughed a bit again.

“I don’t want to die tonight,” He ended up saying, his mind blank. His brain was probably not getting enough blood, which lead to the most out of pocket answers; he would never have answered that if he had had his full capacity.

Barty smiled more. “Good,” And then, he held out his hand, as Evan was still holding his throat.

Evan looked up. “What?” He hoarsely replied.

“Come here.”

Hesitantly, Evan took his hand, his other hand still on his throat.

“Don’t be so shy,” Barty smirked as soon as they were holding hands. “Aren’t you my biggest fan? No need to get nervous. I know you weren’t when you kept watching me for months, or if you had felt any shame at any point, you would have stopped. Right, you would have?”

Evan almost blushed. “I didn’t feel any shame.”

They intensely stared at each other; Barty was still smirking; Evan hadn’t imagined him to be smiling so much. And not even in his wildest dreams he was imagining him smile at him like that.

Barty started walking again.

“Where are we going?” Evan asked blandly.

“To my place.”

THE END.

#rosekiller #evan rosier #barty crouch jr #rosekiller microfic #rosekiller fic #evan x barty #barty x evan #microfic #marauders #marauders fic #marauders microfic #marauders era #the marauders #dead gay wizards

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the-hydroxian-artblog · 4 months

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Okay, okay, I HAVE to know how you connect Gamma and Omega to little planet. I may have misunderstood but I'm starving for your Robotnik lore because it's so, so good.

It's indirect; just that if you look at how R&D is done, imagine if you could time travel and just do R&D even faster. Let factories produce and automatically test themselves. Gather data. Go back in time. Redo it before you start, working off of the new data. Rinse and repeat. You could test new, bleeding edge, space-age materials this way, new ways of siphoning energy or generating it, etc etc. Eggman with a 300 IQ could easily go from his tech in Sonic 1 to making Metal Sonic in Sonic CD with that method, assuming he had enough time, against Sonic's own meddling.

So even if Eggman lost all the physical tech he developed on Little Planet after Sonic stopped him, undid his work in the past, and (presumably) made a Good Future, Eggman likely still has schematics and simple human experience after doing it all. Therefore, it'd explain why in Sonic Adventure, something like Gamma could even scrape anything close to being self-aware, and doubly so for Omega. It could be Eggman biting off way more than he can chew with what he's developed, since new machines could all be designed by him, but not anywhere close to being properly tested to know what he's gotten himself into.

He doesn't have access to easy time travel anymore, so he can't just do what he (presumably) did in CD. He has to, like any tech bro, now just move fast and break things in typical Eggman style. Hence, making someone like Omega of all people, who easily rebelled and ran off at the slightest annoyance. I'm sure there's holes to this theory, but many apply to just the nature of CD's time travel itself, I'd argue. We have to all just accept CD happened unless you like weird coma theories, and the implications of CD is very extensive if we assume Eggman retains his memories of the previous bad futures he tried to make.

#kcdodger #Dr. Eggman #sth #sonic the hedgehog

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inbabylontheywept · 4 months

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Someone had to go first

The first ship that arrived was pretty matter of fact about its fate. The pilot introduced himself as Eric, then told us he was part of the first sublight resupply attempt in modern history. He then gave me and the ground control team his bad news.

“So,” he said. “Without real time telemetry, we weren’t even sure which half of your orbit you’d be in. That’s half a solar system’s worth of wiggle room. Decelerating enough to survive contact with your low orbit would take me two weeks, which, you know, it looks like we don’t have. That means that in order to get the second ship in before you lose orbital control to the Kresh, I’m gonna have to make a sacrificial flyby. Ten to the negative four torr is good enough for a lot of things, but at point-seven c it’s gonna be like sandblasting a soup cracker. Good news is that all the expensive toys are in the next ship, so this really ain’t costing you more than a ship and a pilot.”

“You knew,” I said. If they put the expensive toys in the second ship, they knew that the first was likely a sacrifice. No one smart enough to handle orbital physics would miss that.

“I did,” he replied. “But someone had to go first.”

That was, of course, a lie. No one had to go first. No else had had, at least. When our connection to the FTL network was lost, we’d understood that as the end of our reinforcements. Doing resupplies via sublight was just too risky. It was a testament to Earth that it had accepted the risk and continued anyway.

“Is there anything we can do for you?” I asked. This man had come here to die for us. I wasn’t sure how much I could give, but what I had was his.

“I do have a few requests,” he said. “First up, I need as much high-orbital data as you got. The whole lot.”

I began directing tightbeam resources to him immediately. It was an easy resource to exchange - it wasn’t like there was anyone else out to talk to anymore. When we lost FTL, we found ourselves very, very alone.

“Second,” he said. “Right, I know I’m gonna sound like a princess right now, but I have been stuck in this stupid tin-can for almost two-years now, and I seriously overestimated how much I like synth music. If you have anything that’s analog - I don’t care what kind of string or drum or brass you play, but I’d kill to hear something without a beep in it.”

I jumped my own queue in the tightbeam, and added a short playlist that I ripped from the local web. Human Music, it was labeled. 3 Terabytes. I prayed there was something on it that he’d like.

“And third,” he said. “Third. The uh, next pilot is pretty mad at me. Turns out this will just be one of those things left unfinished. That’s all death really is, I guess - a lot of unfinished things. Let him know that he was right: He is a better pilot than me. But tell him that wouldn’t have made a difference here. Bad luck beats skill, and this luck was shit.”

I promised, and he went silent after that. We could see what data he was analyzing, and the short answer was all of it - everything from atmospheric density to troop positions and his own ship’s blueprints. He knew he had one shot at this, and that if the price wasn’t paid here, it would be paid by whoever came next.

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

Ground control didn’t get a verbal warning that he’d entered atmosphere. Just a ping. A little here-I-am, whispered in the dark.

After that, we could keep track with visuals alone.

He hit the outskirts of the exoatmosphere in his first pass, burning bright enough to be seen with the naked eye. He caught the sparse particles like a kite, trying to shed enough speed to hit actual low orbit. Automatic telemetry updates gave us the grim news for the ship: Thermals were holding up decently, but the ablative was wearing out fast.

The entire descent brought us more than two hour’s reprieve. The Kresh hadn’t expected to see a resupply, but they knew what one meant: Get it now, get it fast, or deal with a stream of new troops. They could buy themselves ten days' time by shooting this one ship down now.

That was an eternity during a siege.

The first loop lowered the speed by about a twentieth of light. The pilot responded by pulling the ship in tighter, trying to preserve more ablative plating by trading off with thermal. Seven fighters were close enough to fire off heat seekers. I don’t think the Kresh had ever anticipated shooting down a craft coming in that hot - the missile's decoy avoidance countermeasure actually made it steer around the thing, chasing down loose pieces of shrapnel. Cooled fragments, still hotter than an engine should be at full blast. The simple mistakes bought it enough time to enter pre-orbit, and the fighters had to stop their pursuit. They weren’t willing to die to stop the ship.

Our man, on the other hand, was already committed to that course.

A third loop followed a fourth. Ablative coating went from 65% integrity, to 30%, to 5%. Telemetry scans were exceptionally detailed - the pilot was making the flyby count. The last message we got from him was simple:

Are you EMP shielded? he asked, not even bothering to encrypt the text stream. He didn’t have time to process more than that.

Yes, we replied. We knew what he was thinking, but it was still a shock to see it. The fusion torch that was driving his ship flared hot, burning through the nozzle and feeding directly into the craft’s deuterium supply. The reaction went super critical, and the resulting neutron pulse set off everything in the ship with a z-count higher than iron. Three continuous seconds of EM interference screamed through the comms as the hulk burned brighter than the sun.

The explosion itself wasn’t powerful enough to reach the Kresh ships still in high orbit, but it made enough broadband radiation to blind both sides LADAR. The man must have been a hell of a pilot - half the shrapnel went down and burned up as it entered the standard atmosphere, sacrificed to move the other half past lagrange. Standard evasion would’ve made the pieces easy to dodge, but with LADAR down, all the Kresh could do was sit still and cower as the wrath of a dead man riddled them full of holes. Our best ace had managed to shoot down seven ships before this before getting shot down himself. The wreckage of the freighter took down six.

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

The second ship came in stealth. One second, we were holding attrition in high orbit, the next, something the size of a small station came ripping through the atmosphere.

It did the same trick as the former - swapping between ablative and thermal loads, coming down at a speed that the Kresh fighters didn’t even try to match. Armies could be built in years, but skills like this took decades.

Telemetry connection was established almost as an afterthought. The way the ship casually ate through ablative armoring made my eyes water, but the pilot himself seemed pretty non-plussed.

“You’re down to fifteen percent coverage. You need-

“What I need,” he said, “is to see the previous ship’s telemetry as soon as I land. And I don't need your help landing it.”

He cut off my chance to reply by flicking the channel off. We watched, and we wrang our hands, but sure enough he came in six minutes later with 4% of the ablative left.

I met him on the landing pad. Under normal circumstances, we’d have needed twenty-four hours for the craft to cool enough to even approach, but we’d had cryo ready just in case. Three tankers of nitrogen, and the loading area, at least, was cool enough to touch. Safety would have to take a backseat to speed here - we needed the supplies fast.

But those both would take a backseat to a promised conversation with the second pilot. He was out of the craft as soon as the air was cool enough to avoid scalding his lungs, picking through the workers to try and find who had the telemetry data.

I found him first. The drive went into his hands, but I needed to keep my promise with Eric before letting go.

“You’re better than the first pilot,” I said, and I wasn’t lying. If the previous flier had been a saint, this one was a god. “But you wouldn’t have been able to manage the landing either. There just wasn’t time.”

“Let me see,” he said, tugging on the drive. “Just let me see. I have to know I couldn’t do it either. I have to know that someone had to die.”

I let go of the drive and he stalked back into his ship. I didn’t follow. I figured I’d pushed things far enough.

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

The second pilot left the ship six hours later. He looked bleary in a way that put me at ease. I’d been up the last six hours directing supplies from the ship. Everything from ground-to-orbit rails to AGI targeting systems was inside - to call it gamechanging would be an understatement. It was good work, but I was tired, and I didn’t want to have to pretend otherwise. Seeing the other man with bags under his eyes meant we could just be frank with each other.

“I couldn’t have managed it,” he said, half-ashamed, half-relieved.

“It just wasn’t possible,” I agreed.

We sat there a moment longer. I didn’t mind the break. This was time well spent.

“Did it hurt?” he asked finally.

“Ablative failed before heating,” I said, which was the technical way of saying no. “He overloaded the reactor before the ship actually broke up and did some kind of slingshot maneuver - hit the main body of the Kresh fleet with half a space station’s worth of shrapnel.”

“Good,” he said.

I knew the signs. The tremor in his cheek, the way his jaw clenched - it wasn’t professional, but I hugged him anyway. Let him have the dignity of choosing to weep instead of having it wrenched out of him.

It was a gift we’d all been given at some point in this war. At least now, there was the hope it could be over soon.

#hfy #humanity fuck yeah #scifi

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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 1 year

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A (Partial, Hypothetical) Map of the

Arachno-Humanoid PolyMultiverse

[A slightly MEDIUM length post where I mapped out and explain the positions of the different universes we see in ATSV -

and how those distances can effect everything to travel time - to the reason why Miles got bitten (maybe..based on my charting and data)]

Did I use common grouping and graphing to make a connectivity map of the universes within the Arachno-Humanoid-PolyMultiverse based on common attributes and similarities?

Why no - I didn't. Lyla gave me this map this morning. So there. _______________________________________

You know what pisses me off? ATSV showing us amazing ass things and then not stopping to explain them at all. Lucky for them, I have autism, a keyboard, and way too much time. So allow me.

'This is Everything': Okay but what is it?

The Spider-verse series is like an expert at going 'this is super interesting but i also I refuse to explain'

But one thing I've always found this SUPER interesting - The Portals. Because LOOK AT THEM. Like... the watch is creating a channel along a set path! It has velocity! How fast are they going? How far?!!

In lots of other Marvel movies like Doctor Strange, teleportation between universes is instantaneous. This is true for a lot of sci-fi.

However, for Spider-verse, they chose something different.

We see them flying and falling through portals, many of them twisting and turning. And it got me thinking -

If they're flying from point A to point B - Doesn't that imply that the universes have set locations - with measurable, varying distance between them?

And if so - how close are they together? Does it always take the same amount of time? Are some too far to get to without jumping to a closer location first?

So many possibilities! I was so curious to make sense of this. How does the watch KNOW where to go? Where every universe is?

The Solution:

I realized that each universe has similarities - and if similarity = proximity, there could be a way to map the universes by asking three simple questions:

Are they in the modern era? Are they in New York - or something like it? Are they stylized?

And what I got was a map that actually explains some very interesting things in the movie! (If you play by my logic, lol)

Graph Breakdown : How to read

[Explainer and breakdown below the cut PLUS a clearer version - so you can map out your sona!]

The graph is made up of two different points - Cluster Centers & Universes:

The Three Clusters: Location, Time, & Style

Cluster Centers are specific attributes that universes share, and these attributes clump similar universes together, shortening the distance between them.

There are 3 cluster centers, based on the three questions:

The Time Desynchronization Cluster: For universes that exist outside of the modern era The Stylization Cluster: For universes with artistic stylization The New York Cluster: For universes in which the Spider-person is based in New York, or a rendition of it.

These clusters are arranged in a triangle with sides of equal length.

Then, a universe is placed on the map based on whether they fit the criteria and how much they fit the criteria.

How much they fit each criteria determines each universe's proximity to each other, and the pathways the watches will take to get from location to location as quick as possible.

For example:

Plotting Universes: Distances & Changes

Using these three Clusters, we can plot almost any Spider-person or Spidersona on the map!

Universes that share attributes and clusters are closer together, shortening the distance and time it takes to complete jumps.

In addition, universes with lots of cluster connections and nearby universes are considered more stable, the strands of the web closer together, and quicker in general.

And just for reference:

The places in which the universes' lines cross are common canon events they share.

Looking at the plotted Universes, we can see some cool things about how they work:

[My lovely OC's, DiscoSpider Diane and Inca-Spider Moche plotted as examples]

The proximity matters in context too! And it seems to effect a lot of things - like observably in the movie.

The closeness of two universes, can possibly explain the time it takes to get there, why some people fall into other universes, and how easy it is to assimilate into another's universe.

Some cool things to note:

Gwen and Miles' universes are next to each other. Which could explain how she fell into his world. Gwen is way more stylized than Miles, so she's closer to that Cluster than he is.

Peter's universe (not charted..lol) would be next to Miles' & Pavitrs - which also explains his involvement in ITSV.

Noir, Spider-Ham, and Peni Parker would all be close-by as well.

Miles and Pavi's universes are next to each other. Miles & Pavi share all three attributes. Because of this, Miles and Pavi's universes are right next to each other. Which could be why Gwen & Miles' jump to Mumbattan is very short and quick.

Pavi's universe is next to HQ. Pavi is modern, low-stylization, and based in a New York adjacent city. This is true for Miguel too, however, he's in 2099, desynchronized from time. Them being right next to each other could explain how so many members of the Spider Society arrived to Mumbattan quickly to contain the anomaly - as all they would need to do is traverse the time difference.

The stylized characters are charted 'most stylized' to least - left to right, based on medium/inspo: Gwen being first (watercolor), then Hobie (collages of prints, text, and real people), and then Noir (completely shaded with no color, but based off of live-action films), then Patrick a.k.a Webslinger (based on live-action Westerns).

Because of this layout, Hobie's universe borders Gwen's. This could explain how Gwen stayed at his place without being noticed for her differing style (which - as we see with Miles and Spider-Ham, would be obvious). But Gwen universe being nearby, could be why she didn't stand out too much.

Hobie's universe borders Noir's. This is very cute. I love them. Happy feelings.

Noir's universe borders Diane's. Because they both live in New York, and are desynchronized from time (Noir being 1933, and Diane 1982) - Noir and Diane's universe sit next to each other. This makes a lot of sense - Noir's world is perpetually white and black - literally 'noir', while Diane's world lacks a day-cycle, making it always night-time.

Because they share these attributes with Miguel as well - Nueva York, 2099 - Noir and Diane actually live 'closest' to campus, along with Pavitr third.

Despite both being O'hara's, Patrick's universe is REALLY far from Miguel's. This is because WebSlinger's universe is time desynchronized in the opposite direction, very far in the past. He's also stylized - and he lives in the Wild West, not New York. Hence the distance.

As is Moche's - Miguel's wife. Like Miguel, Moche lives in a time desynchronized universe (his 2099, hers 1992) - however Moche is from Peru, hence why her and Patrick are the farthest from the New York Cluster. Moche's world is stylized as photorealistic, moreso than Miles, so she's the farthest from that cluster as well.

Miles' and Wiles' universes would be almost directly next to each other - which explains the spider-bite and the fact Miles' DNA changed so easily. Not all variants are next to each other though - Hobie's 616 Prowler variant is actually pretty far from his.

Uhhh...yeah, I think that's everything. But mind you - that's only a two dimensional slice of THIS

Hopefully I was able to decode like 0.0001% of it.

This is all speculation and my imagination, But what came out of it is INTERESTING AS HELL TO ME. Writers...pleasee...feed me more random stills in which I can consume.

Also Miguel if you're reading this please hire me I have a degree in Archnohumanoid Poly-Multiversal Research that's good for nothing and I desperately need a job-

________________________________

I hope you liked this and this made sense! It was just a fun little experiment to do that turned out to be REALLY interesting to chart out/decipher.

Lemme know what you think about how it all works and stuff and what you think of this!

If you made it this far! Thank you so much!! SERIOUSLY THANK YOU

Here's a copy of the map with smaller universes, so you can slot in your own sonas! Plus, a pic of Hobie for your troubles.

His eyes are so pretty. Can you believe he's in love with my Spidersona thats crazzzyy

Bye.

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fanfic-obsessed · 1 month

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Unauthorized Change in Priority

I’m still on a bit of a DCxDP kick right now and I have another idea. It seems to be a fairly common trope that when DP exists and the Justice league seems to be ignorant of a small town in Illinois that was actually pulled into another dimension for several days, that the blame is laid either on the GIW or John Contantine. When John Constantine is blamed, we tend toward him going ‘we don’t fuck with the Infinite Realms’ and nopes out on behalf of the entire JL, leaving a 14 year old to handle things on his own.

Let's take a slight inversion of that. Also I should probably mention, you might want to disregard any canon that contradicts this.

It is important to note going in that in this one Amity Park sits on so many intersections of ley lines that it is impossible to tell which layline is connecting to which. A bit like a natural lake bed that is fed by a bunch of little rivers. This thins the divider between this dimension and the infinite realms, substantially. So even before the portal opening the line between Amity Park and the Infinite Realms is tissue paper thin.

Constantine before he joins the JDL, at some point well before Danny is even born, finds himself in Amity Park. He realizes immediately how thin the veil is in this location and, not wanting to sneeze and accidentally drop this town into a hell dimension, backs away slowly. The veil is so thin that Constantine does not even dare putting any kind of monitoring spell but notes the town (reasoning that anything that happens here will be world ending). When he joins JLD (still well before the portal opens) he creates the Amity Park file and puts two very important notations.

First, anything Amity Park can only be handled by the JLD, preferably Zatanna or Contantine. He has a good reason for this; as most superheroes have just enough contact with death or magic to be reactive to the Infinite Realms, no knowledge of what to avoid, and next to no willingness to leave well enough alone. If there was an issue that by some miracle had not punctured the veil between realities, it is almost guaranteed that the wrong move will make things exponentially worse not better.

Second, he put a notation that any communication about, for, or from Amity Park is priority number 1, used for potentially cataclysmic, all hands on deck immediately communications. In short any call from Amity Park should have been immediately routed to Constantine.

This is what should have happened. However, the first technician to receive a call from Amity Park (during Lunch Lady’s attack) decided that this must have been a miscoding, or a data entry error, as ghosts do not exist. Not only does he mark the caller as a prank, but he also used his own access to change the second notation for Amity Park, marking any call from that location or about that location as a prank, to be ignored.

Fast forward ten years, until now nobody has caught on to what happened. Constantine had very realistic fears about tearing a hole into the infinite realms and thus never checked in on Amity Park, since no notifications came in.

We start with Batman, in the watchtower, unintentionally running into Constantine giving a royal, and deeply pissed off, dressing down to the technician in question, though the topic is not obvious.

Upon seeing Batman, Constantine goes “Good, you were next on my list. We need a full League meeting, ASAP, and all of your brood needs to attend, particularly Red Hood.”

Batman just growls out a ‘What?’

Constantine sighed “Look, I know you don’t like magic. I’ve tried to respect that, no matter how much death magic you and your brood radiate. But we have a fuck up with potentially dimension ending consequences and your undead boy might be the best shot at keeping us all from a war we can’t win.”

Batman growls to cover his own confusion.

Contantine rolled his eyes, “I will tell you everything I know, at the meeting. Going over this more than once increases the chance that someone will fly off the handle and fuck us all worse” he then turned to head toward one of the conference rooms, towing the technician. When the technician protested Constantine snapped out “Mid Case Scenario is that we have to sacrifice you to the Infinite Realms for your fuck up, you stay with me until I know how bad it is”

No more than a half hour later the Justice League has gathered, including a prickly and confused Red Hood (only there because someone-Read Red Robin- thought to use the ‘apparently this is a dimension ending trouble and we’re the assholes that live here’ argument).

Constantine starts with three word ‘Amity Park, Illinois’

Every member of Justice League Dark goes pale.

Constantine continues:

We have a fuck up of massive preportions. Possibly dimension ending, all caused by the idiot to my right. For those of you not in the know there is a dimension that lightly overlaps ours, called the Infinite Realms. It simultaneously encompasses all afterlives that ever were or will be and serves as the connective tissue between the afterlives and the mortal realm. Natural rips form, usually along the ley lines, to allow the spirits of the dead to pass on from our world to theirs and vice versa. It can also be called the Ghost Zone. This realm is made up of ectoplasm, what ghosts are made of. Semi poisonous to mortals, also technically radioactive. Mortals who have touched death in certain ways begin to resonate with the Infinite Realms, mostly by dying and being brought back by unnatural means.

With me so far, Good.

A few decades ago I came across a city in Illinois where the veil between here and the Infinite Realms is so thin it is practically see through. Since I figured accidentally punching a hole in reality and dropping a midwestern city into some fucked up shit was not a good idea, I left but kept an eye for the name to pop up anywhere. When I joined the Dark, I put a priority alert in place. ‘Cause anything that happened in Amity Park or about Amity Park meant the damn Infinite Realms and we needed to be on top of that shit. Except the dipshit to my right, whose name privileges have been revoked, decided that the careful label of ‘Priority 1’ must have been a mistake, and changed the label to mark everything from Amity Park as a prank. 10 years ago.

Yesterday a different alert regarding the Infinite Realms was tripped and guess what I found…Over 200,000 calls from Amity Park in the last decade. All urgent cries for help. All ignored. This was the last message.

Everyone in the league looked deeply uncomfortable with the idea that they had been ignoring cries for help, the unnamed technician cringing next to Constantine. It got worse when Constantine played the last message. The voice sounded male and it sounded young (They do not know if, but it was Tucker Foley aged 24 years old), what’s worse was that there was audible pain in the voice overlaid with a helplessness.

I…I don’t even know why I am trying this. It’s clear no one is listening. That no one will listen. But…But Danny would want us to try. Would want us to give one last warning, he loves humanity so much. They took Danny. They took him two weeks ago and they are cutting him open. We can feel it, Danny’s trying to keep it from us, to keep us from feeling it but our bond is too deep. We can’t get to where Danny is being held and he’s so tired; he won’t last much longer. <The voice stops and there are several minutes of pained panting> Let this serve as a warning, should the Ghost King be Ended at the hands of the US Government, the Infinite Realms will ride to war. Amity Park stands with our Ghostly brethren. Long Rule King Phantom.

The recording cut out and a horrific silence echoed. Before anyone can rush off to try and rescue this ‘Danny’ Constantine gets to them to sit down so that this could be done right (and avoid rushing in to make things worse). He points out that the Ghost King has not yet been Ended, gesturing at the Bats. All of the bats have brushed with death in the right ways (also Gotham was Very very cursed, which also thinned the veil. Though it was not up to Amity Park Levels Gothamites tend toward liminal as well) to be at least loosely affiliated with the Infinite Realms (liminal, though that is not the term he used), with Black Bat, the current Robin, Batman himself, and Red Hood being the ones that pinged as ‘Actual Realm Denizens’ (I know most of the league has died, or died adjacent, but we’ll go with they register as slightly liminal but much less than the Bats, since Gothams curses and the use of the Lazarus pits count as additional exposure).

Had War broken out, the loyalty of those four in particular would be bound to the Ghost King. Constantine was also sure that between their affiliation with the Infinite Realms and the loyalty of those four, the rest of the bats would likely switch sides (Of the Bats, only Red Robin looked completely at ease with this prediction-Tim had long ago accepted that his loyalty was not tied to Justice but to Family). Thus the bats serve as an early warning system, should they attack then it was too late.

In addition to being the canary in the coal mine, Constantine hopes that Red Hood, having died and come back, may be able to serve as an ambassador of sorts, that having him and the other bats with them when they go to Amity Park will give them the time to talk with the residents and de escalate things.

The meeting continues as the League identifies the goals for this

Short Term: Rescue the ‘Danny’, anyone else in immediate danger, and make contact with the people in Amity Park

Mid Term Goals: Start making amends for ignoring their calls for help, ensure the residents are safe or could be made safe, figure out why they think what Danny is enduring has anything to do with the US government

Long Term: Dismantle whatever organization is the ‘They’ the caller mentioned

Of the Bats, Oracle and Black Bat would stay on the WatchTower to play canary. At the same time they would start trying to figure out the They mentioned in the call (by going through the other calls) and any research that needs to be done.

A Single jet, with the Batfam, John Contantine, and as many of the Justice League as can fit (with the Supers flying outside it) is dispatched to go to Amity Park; there is concern that more than that would spook the residents or seem like an invading party. They are able to land the Jet in the middle of Amity Park’s town square and can already see the devastation. It already looks like a war zone, with destroyed buildings and pitted roads. The sky flickers between a normal looking sky and a sickly green that they do not realize it from the Infinite Realms.

A crowd has gathered by the time the amp on the jet lowers. It is a mixture of humans and ghosts, none looking pleased to see the Justice League. The crowd is led by Fright Night, Mr. Lancer, and Tucker Foley (who looks to be in some kind of pain).

This is an Eternal Trio (Tucker/Sam/Danny) kind of idea with Tucker and Sam having a strong psychic bond with Danny, in part due to being there when he died and the portal opened. Because of that all the ghosts see Sam and Tucker as substitute Ghost King/Royalty with Danny being in the GIW’s hands. It takes some back and forth (and Fright Knight explicitly asking Red Hood if the Justice League are to be trusted) but Tucker is willing to answer their questions if it means that they get Danny back.

It turns out that the GIW had the town basically under siege and had for the last year (by that point barely anyone was trying to reach out to the Justice League). Two weeks ago the GIW managed to capture Danny (and had since managed to capture a number of ghosts and liminal humans for experiments). They had some kind of shield up that meant that no one who was past a certain point of Liminal, as all of Amity Park were, were able to get anywhere near it. Sam and Tucker’s bond with Danny meant that they knew he was alive and could feel what Danny was going through. The Bats were too liminal to get close to the GIW facility/fortress. They would go with Tucker to Fenton Works to begin interviewing people about what was going on (finding out that the GIW was apparently a branch of the US government was disquieting). John Constantine (still dragging the techncian) was going with them, someone mentioned the stable portal to the Infinite Realms and his ulcer grew by 3 sizes. The rest of the Justice League would be storming the GIW facility to rescue anyone imprisoned.

In Fenton Works they encounter Maddie and Jack, radiating a manic crazy kind of energy as they furiously build weapon after weapon for the ghosts/AP residents to use against the GIW and/or the rest of humanity. Vlad Masters was with them, trying to keep them relatively stable. The Fenton Parents only found out that Phantom was Danny and that Danny had died a few days before Danny had been captured, though they had mellowed about Ghosts over the years (they were still shooting at Phantom, but it was more of an afterthought to making sure the GIW didn’t harm any innocents- Closer to frenemies than enemies). To be fair Danny had not been trying to keep it a secret from them for years, but after a certain point it felt like bringing up the Danny Phantom/Danny Fenton thing was a little awkward. The Fenton Parents are practically the only people in town who had not made the connection.

The knowledge that they have been hunting their baby, that they have been hurting their baby, that their inventions killed their son cracked their psyche’s a little. Before they could fully recover from that blow, the GIW took Danny and was hurting him. The GIW was using the Fentons Research as a basis for everything they were doing. That shattered their minds more than a little. Their behavior from that point on tended to remind older Ghosts of ghosts who were on the verge of having a cracked core from either an impossible Obsession, or conflicting Obsessions. Everyone is treating them very gently and lets them keep building really weird weapons to keep them from literally beating themselves bloody on the GIW shielding. Red Hood, as the most Ghost Adjacent (Everyone in Amity Park have been exposed to enough ectoplasm to sense the levels of ectoplasm in other, to a certain extent), and Red Robin, as the most engineering inclined, are immediately co opted to help with weapons development as the Fentons babble about taking out the GIW in distressingly specific terms, uncontrollable manic energy, and frighteningly blank eyes (Even Red Hood is treating them with the ‘these people are a primed grenade attached to a nuclear bomb’ kind of kid gloves).

Jazz makes a point to thank Batman for Red Hood and Red Robin indulging her parents. She is exhausted and at the end of her endurance in trying to keep everything together. She sits with Sam, Tucker, and a number of assorted ghosts to answer Batman’s questions about what the fuck has been going on in the past decade.

Back at the watchtower, Oracle has written a program to transcribe the messages from the Amity Park calls and do an analysis on the word use. From the transcripts she has been able to find a couple of important keywords: Anti Ecto Acts, Ghost Investigation Ward, the names of several ghosts, Pariah Dark, Danny Phantom. She and Black Bat begin researching. These are not fun topics to research.

The Lantern Corps are taking the research and compiling a report to take to the OA. Absolutely 0% of the people are happy with what they are discovering. While not all of it could have been prevented by the Justice League knowing about the portal opening from the beginning (The Anti Ecto Acts had been buried in a sub clause of a sub clause of on page 1,361 of 2,500 of a Wheat Subsidy Bill), there was significant preventable damage.

At the GIW headquarters residents of Amity Park, both ghost and human, stood outside the shield line as members of the Justice League, particularly members of the Super family (which has the benefit of having Clark Kent the reporter be a first hand witness if need be) pass through the Shield with only the faintest of resistance. The first priority is the Shield as no one can escape until it comes down. Superboy, the older, finds the experiment cells first. It is horrifying beyond anything he had ever experienced.

Several of the cells contained ghosts that not only had been living when they were brought in, but also were trapped in a cell with their own rotting corpse (Including both Paulina and Dash). Every possible human/Ghost experimentation and horror was present. They find Danny vivisected and pinned open with several of his organs and limbs decorating the room, while he was painfully regrowing them.

Later the vague descriptions of what was found in the GIW headquarters, reported by Clark Kent and Lois Lane, would induce actual supervillains to come out of the woodwork to help the Justice League in taking down the Acts, the GIW, and their supporters. Ra’s Al Ghul reaches out to Red Robin (not just because Ra’s also qualifies as liminal under the acts-though he does take that personally), offering support and a cadre of assassins. Lex Luthor throws his political muscle behind repealing the Acts. Two Face is in complete agreement with himself for the first time in ages when he declares it open season on anyone in a GIW uniform.

In the aftermath it is found that even the living residents of Amity Park are all too Liminal to live in most cities. Gotham remains one of the few cities that can support them. A robust exchange program springs up between both cities; the residents of either tend to consider Amity Park as a neighborhood of Gotham. Gotham University is the first school to offer admissions to one of the ghostly residents, codifying how Ghostly enrollment should be counted. They are also the first to offer both a Psychological and Sociological Master degree program with a focus on Ecto beings.

Constantine finds that it is no longer possible to separate Amity Park from where it had partially sunk into the Infinite Realms. This has led to some strange warping of the space time continuum that gives him a headache, but by all accounts is as stable as it can be. This means that while everyone agrees that Amity Park is in Illinois, and geography does seem to support that, it is possible to turn down certain streets at certain times and be in Gotham and vice versa.

Once Danny had recovered some from his experience a bit, he does pass judgment on that technician. Once the tech dies, he would be imprisoned in Walkers prison for a period equal to the suffering and recovery time of all of the victims affected by his choice.

#dp dc crossover #dcdp #Danny Fenton is the ghost King #john constantine #red hood #batfam #batman #red robin #jack and maddie fenton #Danny Fenton/Sam Mason/ Tucker Foley #Eternal Trio #mention human experimentation #Vivisection #body horro tw

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misty-caligula · 1 year

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This is my big one for s2e6 and it’s the thing that made me bolt upright in my chair, really just ... kicked me in the chest. For context my point of view on the show is a non-supernatural one, I do not think Lottie is psychic I think she’s delusional. It’s okay if you do not, but that’s the context for my take:

I have a strong suspicion that adult!Lottie’s being played, and I really do not like it.

Full disclosure, I have a history in the psychiatric world as a patient, I’m not schizophrenic but I am psychotic and I am well managed and very stable but like... I know what this shit is meant to be like, from about 15 years of personal experience. So back in s2e4 I was immediately .... confused. By Lott’s new psych. She seemed... just off.

I thought to myself “Hey, you know, psychiatry is one of those things that is so often misrepresented in all forms of media, I’m probably just reading too much into it.” But then I rewatched (and rewatched) and the more I did the more it felt... deliberate. What got to me was that ... her normal psych has gone on sabattical and been replaced, and the new one is trying to tell her not to suppress her visions with medication but try to understand them and what they’re trying to tell her.

A real psychiatrist simply would never talk like that. Would never suggest that. As far as psychiatry is concerned, Lottie is schizophrenic, her visions are delusional. And delusions/hallucinations are less ... they’re less like dreams where you might think “Oh I’m going to keep track of what I’m dreaming about and see if it means anything” (which, incidentally, is also not a thing a psychiatrist would usually do, but that’s besides the point) but are more like... a damaged computer, throwing up random, unsorted and unrelated data. Our brains are pattern finders, we desperately try to make connections in what we experience, and when our brains start misfiring and giving us bizarre and nonsensical data we still try to connect it. Delusional thinking doesn’t ... say anything about you, it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just the brain trying to sort nonsense into piles of organised nonsense.

From a psychiatric perspective a delusion or hallucination is a symptom no different to a ... headache or a rash. It’s a non-desirable issue to be treated and ideally cured, not ... explored and looked at for some kind of deeper meaning. And this isn’t even talking about like, trauma, and processing it through therapy. Lottie’s psychosis manifested long before the plane, she’s been on medication most of her life. It’s not something she can just... ignore, or choose to fight, or try not to have. More than that, by actively engaging with it it damages her coping mechanisms that she’s developed over the years to ground her in reality when she’s not certain.

Anyway. This all just seemed.... off. Wrong. And Lottie’s reaction is to say “There’s no meaning, because they’re not REAL.” Because she’s spent a LOT of time in treatment, trying to build a solid foundation of reality to live on. She’s clearly very distressed by the idea of losing touch with that, and her psych is NOT helping. It all seemed very... off.

I thought through options of what was going on. Maybe... maybe her new psych isn’t real? Maybe she’s talking to the wall? That was my best theory with so little to go on. But it was not a very satisfying answer, and didn’t really fit the general themes and style of the show anyway... I was confused.

Fast forward to ep 6 and we get more time with the new psych. Lott is now CLEARLY agitated. She can’t sit still, seems very anxious. She starts talking about “the visions” and “this feeling even about things that I know are right infront of me, it’s like it’s pointing me towards back then.” Her psych says “Is it possible that your fear of the past might be actually your fear of your illness?” Only THAT IS NOT WHAT LOTT SAID. She didn’t SAY she was afraid of the past, she was afraid of “a feeling about things I know are right infront of me, pointing me back towards then.” What does she mean by that? Finding random queens in a pile of papers? Visions of dead bees? The reality is that she’s not afraid of the past, she’s losing touch with reality. In psychiatric wording, she’s struggling to hold onto “insight” i.e. the ability to determine what’s real or not.

Lott kind of misses this disconnected thought though, and instead she says “That’s not the problem, I’m not worried that I’m ill, I’m worried I never was.” This shows a complete LACK of insight, she’s forgotten that only very recently she was terrified of her illness and now she’s suddenly thinking that maybe 30+ years of treatment were all for nothing? Maybe she was just never sick at all?

Then she goes off on a tangent, she says “With Travis coming, Natalie and now Misty’s here too. It’s like it sent them here, to show me.” “To show you what?” “That it WAS real. And that I wasn’t the only one who felt it out there, that it was all of us, that it was a part of us.” “What is...it...Lottie?” And she goes off about the god of the wilderness and the terrible things they did.

But... okay so Lott’s losing her objectivity here, which is ... not uncommon for a psychotic person to deal with. And she’s developing a belief that she was never sick, that she was never delusional, that it was always real. Now only 2 episodes beforehand she’d come to the psych on an emergency basis to increase her meds PRECISELY because she was afraid this would happen. She’s TERRIFIED of getting to this exact point, being this exact way. Because it leaves her absolutely out of control of herself, her own mind.

But listen to what the psychiatrist is saying. First she says to her face that Lott’s psychosis is “controlled.” But... no it’s not! She’s having hallucinations, she’s CLEARLY delusional, and showing all kinds of signs of psychosis. She’s definitionally out of control.

Then she asks probing questions not about her mental state, but about the details of her delusions, about the god of the forest. She STILL hasn’t increased her meds and she’s acting like it’s not at all weird that she’s saying stuff like “I think I’m not sick and never was.” Which, to a psychotic person or a psychiatrist is SUCH a red flag, because the next immediate question to raise if a schizophrenic or bipolar or otherwise psychotic person says those words is “...are you taking your medication?” Because believing that you’re not delusional is one of the core hallmarks OF BEING DELUSIONAL.

Literally the definition of a delusion is a belief without evidence that you hold against all odds even in the face of contradictory evidence. If you are sitting there saying EXTRAORDINARY things and requiring zero external evidence to back up your claims and ABSOLUTELY certain in those beliefs no matter what... that’s delusional. Of COURSE you think you’re sane, if you lack insight you simply cannot tell what you’re thinking isn’t rational.

It’s like you are so certain that gravity exists, you can feel it, you can see its’ effects, and you comfortably put your life on the line for gravity a hundred times a day. If someone told you gravity wasn’t real you’d think they sounded mad, and if they told you YOU were the one out of touch, and that actually gravity wasn’t real, you could just look around and go “Uh... obviously you’re wrong.” But if you’re getting bad info into your brain you could be relying on something with JUST AS MUCH certainty and have absolutely no idea or capacity to tell that it’s actually completely wrong, no matter how many times you were told or shown. Medicated psychotic people regain their insight and can say “Sometimes I think things that don’t make sense, and I can tell that they’re not real, and I’m glad I don’t make choices based on that false information.” Unmanaged psychotic people say “I don’t know why I should take some pill, I’m fine, nothing’s wrong at all.”

I just canNOT fathom how any psychiatrist in the world would sit with a known schizophrenic patient who’s describing having active visions, who believes that a god they found in the middle of the forest is sending people to them so they can all be magically healed by them, and not IMMEDIATELY say to themselves “Hmm, this person is clearly having a psychotic event, is clearly in a tough spot, and needs their meds adjusted and maybe we should look into their wellbeing in the short term.”

All of which led me to suddenly jump up in my chair and shout “OH MY GOD” at my poor friend who was watching with me. Because I think that Lottie is being manipulated. I think that someone’s been fucking with her meds. I think that someone got rid of her real psychiatrist and replaced him with a plant. I think the new psych is either trying to encourage her to become a more invested cult leader, possibly the cult is becoming like... more intense without her knowledge and they’re trying to turn her into a saint by removing her meds and encouraging her delusions. OR someone is trying to work out what REALLY happened in the woods and they’re manipulating her so that she’ll tell them the full story while she’s vulnerable and confused.

Either way, I’m 99.9% sure someone’s deliberately fucking with her at this point, and it’s actually really pissing me off because I can’t stand seeing vulnerable people, esp mentally ill people, being manipulated and used. It’s a HUGE thing for me, and ... aaaaaah whoever’s behind this shit I hope they meet Shauna on a very bad day.

#yellowjackets #spoilers #theories #I think I'm right on this one even though I really do not want to be #long post

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mrmorsh · 6 months

Text

Information about the characters (Swap au —Chaotic swap. The idea of au is simple, the characters change roles, but their characters remain unchanged. And their appearance is changing thanks to the skins and costumes from the Sonic games.)

Agent Shadow is an elite agent of the Gun organization. His specialties are espionage and theft of important data. Trained by the best special forces fighters, thanks to which he is able to fight back even the strongest robot. His rocket boots allow him to temporarily levitate as well as make a series of short but fast jerks. During his time at Gun, his senses had dulled and Shadow had become more cool-headed. The hedgehog has a side type of earnings — the New Babylon Casino as well as a series of bars. Loves :Successfully completed tasks, money, as well as strong girls. He usually acts with cold and businesslike indifference, only occasionally showing his vulnerable side. It has a set of different types of gadgets, bombs, special glasses and pistols. Despite his cold nature, Shadow has a narrow circle of personalities that he can call friends without doubt or sarcasm. Just that the hedgehog hides his real emotions behind the mask of a harsh and cold agent. Of all of them, perhaps only two saw the real emotions of the hedgehog. Most often, it separates the eternally arguing Rouge and Lien-da, Which is why most often it becomes a beacon of reason for Rouge and Lien-da.

Rouge is a perfect life form created by Professor Gerald Robotnik as a universal medicine. Extremely dangerous due to the power to control the energy of Chaos, as well as because of the abilities that were added thanks to the altered dna. She is able to destroy stones and metal with her scream, but this ability requires great strength and concentration. Her element is air, so anyone who decides to arrange a fight in flight will instantly fall to the ground due to a barrage of attacks. She is a little obsessed with the power of Chaos Emeralds, so she tries to collect them. Rouge communicates quite easily and playfully—this behavior is associated with watching a lot of old movies on vhs, in which the main roles were played by spy girls. Rouge took the manner of her communication and behavior from the heroines of similar Films and TV series. Despite her cheerful demeanor, Rouge is still plagued by nightmares about the Ark colony, perhaps she has post-traumatic stress disorder. Her main connection is that Agent Shadow is her personal psychologist, he often calms Rouge at night when she wakes up from Another nightmare. Agent Shadow may be Rouge's main love interest, but due to her inexperience, all she can do is flirt. She is very proud and ready to fight dirty when faced with a formidable opponent. The carefree and playful attitude of the bat, due to its abilities, can strain some characters. To most people, Rouge seems brave, ambitious, independent, flirtatious, calculating narcissist who thinks only of herself. Although in fact this is just an image that she plays out in public, her closest friends know that the girl is actually kind, although she has moments of depression.

E.G.G-123—The most dangerous and intelligent of the E-series robots, is the creation of Dr. Vanilla, which as a result got out of control. It has a large arsenal of weapons and ammunition.Initially, E. G. G -123 was created as a robot that would kill Blaze the cat. However, as a result, Vanilla turned the robot into a guard for Rouge, who was in stasis at one of Vanilla's bases. However, the rapidly developing intelligence of the robot rebelled against Vanilla, wanting power as well as revenge for being locked underground for three years. In his arsenal there is :Rockets, miniguns, flamethrowers, plasma and laser weapons. In addition, the robot is very smart, which allows it to create its own weapons, which often work against its master due to mortality. E. G. G -123 likes to gloat and joke during battle, praising his fighting qualities as well as his mind. He often underestimates his enemies because of too much confidence in his abilities. The robot likes to compete with those individuals whose powers are not inferior to his own. He likes to arrange friendly fights with Rouge, considers her a worthy opponent. Despite his hidden desire to take over the world, E-123 himself wants Agent Shadow and Rouge to share rule over the world with him. As a result, he tends to be extremely headstrong, reckless, aggressive and destructive - destroying everything that gets in his way.

---

Dr. Vanilla is a brilliant scientist and a villain with a huge ego. Her main goal is to take over the world and prove that she is the greatest genius. Her main weapon is intelligence, which allows her to create robots and various equipment.Dr. Vanilla is a misanthrope and a passionate technophile. Meeting the criteria of a classic sociopath, the doctor does not care about anyone except himself and his cars. She will gladly stick a knife in the back of anyone who ceases to be useful, or uses it for her own personal gain, without thinking twice.However, her main weakness is her confidence in her invincibility, and because of this, she sometimes underestimates her opponents during combat. Arrogant and narcissistic, she creates countless technological wonders that fuel her huge ego, usually bolstered by her goal to finally build an empire, and she doesn't care where it starts. Determination and stubbornness can be called strong character traits, because she never gives up when most would accept defeat. Rare moments of losing control of anger turn Vanilla into a dangerous tornado of rage that threatens both allies and her enemies. Basically, he behaves calmly and coolly, showing emotions only in moments of victory or defeat. She despises Blaze so much that she refused to make her robo copy, because of the losses during outbursts of anger, she could easily destroy Blaze's Robo copy and at the same time half of her base. He considers Blaze unworthy to be captured even in the form of a Robo copy.

Gemerl is a robot created to copy other people's abilities as well as destroy the heroine cat Blaze.Jimerl is as fast as Blaze, and is also able to copy the abilities of other heroes, but he cannot copy more complex ones such as Chaos control. He is very restrained and calm; he never seems to be in a hurry, but he manages everywhere. On the surface, he seems quiet and modest, but in fact, he is probably no less insidious than Vanilla, with the only difference that he is very good at hiding his true feelings, thoughts and intentions.Other robots know that he is vindictive and vindictive, and will always figure out how to ruin the offender's life. Therefore, everyone tries to maintain the appearance of a good relationship with him. Jimerl himself is quite satisfied with this state of affairs. The only thing that can break his usual equanimity is the appearance of a possible competitor.He is a violent, aggressive, cold-blooded and intelligent killing machine with a great superiority complex. However, from the very beginning, he had a habit of imitating Blaze's gestures, if not in a mocking manner.Jimerl's most dominant trait is his hatred and obsession with Blaze the cat. Programmed with the sole purpose of surpassing and destroying the cat, the robot is obsessed with the belief that it surpasses Blaze in all parameters. The robot considers itself as it says:"Jimerl is excellent, Blaze is insignificant!"

Agent Vector is Dr. Vanilla's devoted assistant, who may be in love with her. As a rule, he performs secondary work, collecting materials for the construction of bases, checking factories for the production of robots and making coffeeAgent Vector is the most calm of their henchmen Dr. Vanilla.Vector is used to Vanilla's not always obvious plans and understands her better than most other people. He obeys the doctor, taking all insults in his direction and doing some humiliating things without unnecessary questions. Vector tends to consider himself the smartest in any situation. This may not always be true, but he is really quite smart, considering that he lasted the longest as Dr. Vanilla's assistant.Vector usually shows a calm side of himself. However, he speaks in a rude tone and may not pay attention to the details of the conversation. At the same time, Vector himself does not mind and frankly deceive and mislead, imitating Dr. Vanilla, whom he admires and respects.

---

Amy Rose is a combat soldier created by former subordinate Vanilla -Tails. Amy was originally created to destroy Blaze the Cat, but then Tails directed his forces to create his empire. Rose has become a leading force that helps Tails with his plans. Amy is gloomy, speaks little and is cold-blooded towards any battle or opponent. It can release lightning bolts from its body and also move at equal speeds with the Blaze the cat. Her main ability is dark inspiration, which causes the worst and most evil in the personality to wake up. She does not show emotions even during the battle, because she is gnawed that she is just a living weapon created for destruction. But despite this, she finds the company of the robot convenient for her, to some extent she considers the Metal unit her only friend. She is ready to listen to the ideas of others when she admits that she does not really have a special plan of her own that could be implemented, which makes her more open to suggestions. In the future, she will hate Tails and will be obsessed with finding her real family, although it is still unknown whether she was created in a laboratory or was kidnapped for experiments. He likes to use a bat that can absorb energy from Emp or other sources and then release it in the form of lightning. She hides that she likes to be read bedtime stories.

Metal unit v.3.0—Was created as an attempt to replace Jimerl, but now monitors the state of the Amy. Metal was created with an eye on the doctor's past work, trying to do everything so that the Robot would not get out of control and rebel against the creator. However, due to the advanced adaptive artificial intelligence, he soon overcame the program. He was programmed to take care of Amy, but then the program turned into true emotions. He likes to cook , but because of the imperfection of his program, the food he prepares becomes a biological weapon. The unit is able to use its powers to control water, is able to create whole storms and even tornadoes. Due to the connection and trust with Amy, he is able to combine his attacks and non-attacks. However, he can be too obsessed with Amy's safety, which is why after her defeat he can retreat, taking the hedgehog with him. He speaks politely and formally, addressing others as "sir" or "ma'am." Despite his restrained behavior, he is capable of moments of strong emotions: when he thought that Amy had been fatally injured, he flew into a rage and destroyed everything he saw.

Tails Miles Prower is a former fan of Dr. Vanilla, who decided that he would outgrow his idol and that he would be able to take over the world. He has a lot of knowledge in the field of creating cyborgs, mutants and robots. Uses Warp Topaz and its energy to open portals, hypnosis, and energy shots from a prosthetic eye. He voluntarily replaced some parts of his body, which is why he received additional abilities:Shooting a laser beam from the eye, hacking techniques, strengthening strength thanks to a robo hand. Initially admired the work of Dr. Vanilla, an unrecognized scientific genius and a big ego forced Tails to enter the road of crime. In addition to his intelligence, the fox is a pretty dexterous manipulator. He could masterfully use other people to his advantage to get them to cooperate with him or lure them into traps, and he knew exactly how to strike his enemies where it hurt the most.The fact that he had been an outcast for so many years made him bitter and cynical. A selfish genius who puts his own well-being above everything else.He is very easily ready to say goodbye to the life of another living being, so he immediately put Amy in front of a choice either she serves him or dies. Tails managed to sew a device inside Amy's heart that can stop the girl's heartbeat. He has absolutely no sympathy and considers Amy and Metal as ordinary instruments that can be replaced.

#sonic au #sonic fanart #rouge the bat #shadow the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #shadouge #swap au #chaotic swap #vanilla the rabbit #vector the crocodile #gmerl #amy rose #miles tails prower #tails the fox #sth #metal sonic #amy rose the hedgehog #metamy

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mr-jack-letterman · 10 months

Text

More B-Side Verse!

Next up is Error.

This is Trojan, the B-Side verse version of Error.

(click for better quality)

- Within B-Side, Trojan used to be a Science Sans instead of a Geno Sans like Error was.

- Since Trojan originated from a younger and overall nicer Sans variant, Trojan is much more pacifistic and less angry than Error.

- He still destroys Universes, but he's less likely to actually fight people. He does his job and tries to flee as fast as possible when Scribe shows up, only rarely giving in to fighting.

- A glitch is spreading throughout B-Side verse. It seems as though there is no cure, but destroying the infected universes seem to slow it down. So, Trojan does his best to kill off the infected universes using his power, only leaving the uninfected alive. This earns him the title of "God of Destruction" throughout the multiverse as rumor spreads. No one, except Trojan's trusted allies, know of his true motives.

- Scribe and his crew are trying to stop the same corruption, but Scribe believes Trojan is the root cause of it and seeks to annihilate him, thinking destroying "the source" will kill off the rest. He doesn't see Trojan's efforts as "damage control", all he sees is Trojan "spreading more corruption."

- Being alone for so long has made him more like Alphys, very nervous and anti-social, but undeniably brilliant. He has a habit of going on long rambling tangents about data, space, magic, and whatnot. Most people don't understand a thing he's talking about though. He doesn't care, he's just happy to infodump.

- Most people see him as this maniacal mad scientist who tortures people and experiments on souls. Many Sanses like to compare him to some of the abusive and horrible Gasters throughout the multiverse. When, in reality, Trojan has absolutely zero confidence in himself let alone his "mad science."

- Most of Trojan's time is actually spent researching and documenting the different magic and fighting styles all Sans and Papyri have. He finds all the variation extremely fascinating and just rly rly rly wants to learn about it all. (*Cough* undiagnosed autism *cough*/lh)

- Trojan really doesn't have many friends and doesn't get out much. But, unlike Error, he's pretty good friends with Nightmare and his gang of misfits, as well as Cyan, the B-Side variant of Underswap Sans.

- For a long while, Trojan couldn't remember he used to be a Science Sans. Once he did remember, Cyan gave him his necklace as a reminder to never forget.

The rest of these are not rly that important, they're just funky little design quirks I think are cool lmao.

- Trojan is named after a "Trojan Horse Virus" a type of computer virus that disguises itself as a normal program.

- His name is also a reference to the Trojan Horse in Greek mythology. Within the story, not only was the Trojan Horse a smart plan, the monument itself was an alleged tribute to Athena, goddess of wisdom. Trojan is a very smart cookie so using my tism powers I named him after something connected to the goddess of wisdom essentially NSNDNND.

- Trojan's "strings" are less like strings and more like thick ribbons of green binary. Within the Antivoid, similar to Error, Trojan has a bunch of these ribbons hanging from the "ceiling". But unlike Error, written on these ribbons are the names and serial numbers of all the universes he's destroyed. It's his way of remembering them and memorializing them.

- The binary code surrounding him can spell out various small phrases or words relating to what he's feeling. Normally, they just spell out "Trojan". But as seen above in my paper sketches, they change periodically. The translations for the binary can be found underneath each sketch.

- Trojan's eyelights can change as well. They turn into 1s when he's surprised, angry, excited etc, and change to 0s when he's embarrassed, sad, worried, etc.

- When he's overwhelmed or confused, strings of binary cover his eyes.

If you have any questions about B-Side verse or the world itself, don't hesitate to send me an ask or a message!

Original Error by @loverofpiggies

(I hope tagging is alright-)

Extra info about B-Side verse :D

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generic-sonic-fan · 11 months

Text

Transcendence

Summary: The Chaos Emeralds grant power to those with the will for them.

Seek all seven, and your conviction can reshape reality.

Word count: 4257

Metal Sonic remembers the first time he touched an Emerald.

(When he finally starts winning, of course. Or, at the very least, not losing. When his body is finally fast enough to obey his will, fast enough to steal the gemstone from where it lays before an organic hand can reach it instead.)

Metal Sonic remembers how it thrummed against his palm plating.

(He should feel nothing. Dr. Ivo Robotnik, as referred to on days he succeeded, or Master, as referred to everytime else, had removed his tactile sensors in a bid to shave more weight off his frame. What need is there to be precise when the aim is to kill and one’s entire self is the knife?)

Metal Sonic remembers the surge of energy. Emergency insulation systems had snapped into place, redirecting the chaos away from his processor and back into his chest turbine.

(Metal Sonic remembers a whisper.)

(A tugging from the deepest recesses of his processor.)

(But the connection is severed before it can form, discharged out the hole where his heart should be, just like every other burning spark he might contain.)

—

There is a first time that he witnesses Chaos Control. Shadow disappears from the battlefield and into a realm of perception beyond that which scanners can penetrate. There is no time to react, for an ordinary Badnik. The Egg Pawns are trapped in the span between milliseconds.

But Metal Sonic feels something. Behind. Above. In that span between milliseconds, he rotates around to face it.

But his body betrays him. He is not fast enough. Shadow’s downward kick sends him tumbling onto the rocks below.

—

“Now that’s a curious development,” his master says upon reviewing the memory file. “How’d you know he’d be there?”

Metal Sonic knows better than to reply to the rhetorical musings of a genius at work.

“You don’t have the sensors for it.”

Not anymore. Those were removed three defeats ago, outsourced to a handheld scanning unit that could be discarded upon entering battle. The modification had shaved off three whole pounds.

“Some sort of new tactical positioning calculation you came up with? Or a mere lucky guess?”

A guess, Metal Sonic replies over the data cable.

“Correct answer. Your operating data doesn’t show any particularly useful thinking on your part.” His master smiles.

His master’s foreign program retreats from his memory banks. The extraction drags its pointed barbs against the other segments of his operating system. Metal Sonic stays very, very still. The data cable is pulled without warning, taking a few lines of him with it, but it is easier to stitch over the tear himself once his master leaves the room than to mention the damage.

—

Metal Sonic remembers the first time he saw him use it.

His body has failed yet again. Sonic’s hand brushes the glassy cyan surface, and before Metal Sonic can lunge, there is a flash, and he is gone.

Behind. Below. At the bottom of the temple stairs Sonic stands and smiles.

“Pretty neat trick, huh? Shadow passed it along.”

Metal Sonic redirects all power to his turbine system. He shoots forward and his claw scrapes Sonic’s tan cheek before it disappears. Above, to the right. This time he doesn’t try to face the source. He maintains his trajectory and Sonic reappears to kick nothing but empty air.

“Okay, maybe it’s not that neat of a trick.” Sonic is still grinning. “But it’s one you can’t do.”

Metal Sonic swerves his head around faster than his programmed tolerances should have allowed him. But his wretched organic copy has unwittingly spoken the key. Other core directives fall away, leaving his consciousness with a single command. Maintain superiority. Remind the rodent of his match.

Metal Sonic activates his reverser and in the span between milliseconds he is flung backwards with enough g-forces to pop a few soldered connections from his motherboard. His body bludgeons into Sonic, knocking the Emerald from his grasp. It tumbles across the uneven yellow bricks of the temple, as they do. Sonic hits the floor first. His shoulder digs into a outcrop in the brick, but Metal Sonic does not linger long enough to hear a cry spill out. He jumps off and scrabbles across the floor, claws reaching for cyan.

It’s calling him. Ahead. Ahead.

He brings it into his palm and it thrums.

(This time it offers warmth. Warmth, like that of flesh and blood pressed against his plating. Ghosts of Amy’s touch where he’d held her as he’d carried her on Little Planet. Touches that had been erased from his files upon the removal of his tactile sensors.)

And the energy beckons.

(A whisper.)

But the surge protection activates, and insulation is slammed onto the wires running up his spinal column. The energy is expunged out the back of his turbine like it always has and not for the first time does Metal Sonic wish to rip his plating off to reshape himself. He chooses instead to use the burning for what little use it gives and takes off, shattering a hole through the brick wall of the temple.

He does not realize what he’s left behind until another shockwave joins his own from the ground. The rest of him wakes from its dream. Targeting protocols, force calculations, and kill simulations slam back into his awareness.

He’d turned his back on Sonic instead of killing him. But where he expects to find disgust at the concept, he merely finds the thrum of the Emerald, fainter now but still registerable to his non-existent sensors.

He abruptly changes course for the coastline and is able to lose Sonic amongst the waves.

—

“A success! A good long while since we’ve had one of those from you, isn’t it?”

Metal Sonic places the Emerald into Dr. Ivo Robotnik’s waiting palm. The man’s mustache twitches as he studies the crystal. His eyes do not dart about the many multitudes of reflections behind the glass. His hand does not shift around the surface in time with its pulse. He places it into a holding container.

“Well done. I’ve tracked Prower’s plane to a small soiree back on the mainland. Where there’s the fox, there’s him. I’ll allow you a free fight for once.”

Metal Sonic points to the Emerald.

“What?” Dr. Ivo Robotnik’s brows narrow.

He lowers his hand.

“I’m not going to let you hand Sonic back the Emerald when you inevitably lose.”

He shakes his head.

“No. Now go fulfill your function.” Dr. Ivo Robotnik grabs his shoulder and pushes him to the door. “I’ll be waiting to receive your distress signal.”

—

The biplane designated as The Tornado had been modified to utilize an Emerald when one was available to achieve supersonic speeds. And here, in this tiny municipal airport, unguarded in a hangar with only a feeble padlock on the door, is the plane. Metal Sonic grabs the padlock and pulls until the metal is twisted and useless.

His processor continues to tick upwards in framerate. His targeting protocols jump at shadows and his logic processing suggests a trap. Even as his cameras adjust to the light of the interior, he is still in the dark; he doesn’t have a scanning unit with him. He is throwing away an opportunity for an ambush and defying the mission commands on a “guess”. If he withdraws now, there will still be time to plan the encounter and explain the deviation in his flight path.

Metal Sonic crosses the concrete floor until his claws hover just above the red skin of the plane. He recalls the file where he’s attempted to codify the sensation given by the Emeralds into readable bits of data, but the clusters of numbers are hardly more than gibberish. There is no special calculation to generate more, no secret scanner setting to employ; nothing in the memory files to review, as his master so astutely observed.

The plane waits before him.

He tears open the engine compartment and yellow light floods the hangar. The tips of his claws scratch the crystalline surface-

(-and he hears music. Not being played from a speaker driver, but as if all the air itself is being plucked like a string, the sound too big to be contained in such a space. Echoes reflecting, twisting, turning off the roof and floor and spilling into the spaces between the boards of his central processing unit.)

(As if he is singing.)

-before alarms ring out. Metal Sonic snatches the Emerald from its casing. The song dies as the surge protection clamps down on his body. He bursts from the hangar and dives into the surrounding forests, weaving through trees until he hits the edge of land. On the beach behind, another trail of sand is kicked up before his own has a chance to settle, but its creator is forced to stop short of the water line.

Metal Sonic can’t allow himself to look behind until he reaches the base on a distant shoreline. He cuts his turbine, ending the brilliant ejecta behind him, and falls. His feet hit just short of the landing pad and impact the soil between superstructures. It is here that he whispers to the Emerald, some voiceless combination of coaxing and pleading, but there is nothing in response except the hot fire building in his chassis. The Emerald pulses weakly. Its warmth caresses his neck but can travel no further.

He presses the Emerald against his forehead.

(He presses the Emerald against his forehead.)

And he feels the dirt beneath his feet (coarse, powdery) and the wind against his skin (smooth, cooling) and the sun on his face (warm, radiating across his cheeks) and the music spills forth, softly bowed strings beneath the whistles of birds. He smells flowers (he shouldn’t) and tastes honey (he can’t) and there is nothing to analyze, nothing to calculate. His processor is still.

(All is well. He can understand this now.)

—

He reappears in his master’s workshop and clatters to the ground. He is assaulted with every variant of error warning that his diagnostic programs can bludgeon him with, but the codes slip past his awareness like the smoke billowing between his fingers.

—

“A chaos control.”

Metal Sonic awakens.

“You know, I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t checked the cameras.”

It hits him again. The weight. The analysis and calculations and scanning, scanning, scanning; no instances of Sonic the Hedgehog found, but that readout is not enough to calm the chorus. It all comes back and it’s all he can do to steel himself enough to keep processing his master’s words.

“Still- what brought that on? Did you even know it would work?”

His master’s program prods him through the data cable. Yes, he responds.

(There’s no data to support this conclusion.)

“. . . do you think you can do it again?”

Yes, he affirms.

Dr. Ivo Robotnik laughs, and laughs, and laughs, claps his hands together, and smiles. The workshop becomes a flurry of movement and somewhere in the carnage Metal Sonic’s head plating is unscrewed and tools jammed inside. He offlines himself to prevent any program corruption during modification.

—

He awakens again and it’s three days later. There’s an Emerald on the counter ahead of him and Dr. Ivo Robotnik waits behind a wall of thick glass. Metal Sonic stands. Checks his diagnostics. Surge protection has been removed.

He grabs the Emerald and it burns. Liquid hot fire spills overs his head and flames lick at the corners of his visual sensors. Where is the cool breeze? Why does this hurt? Why does-?

—

He should have expected this. The Emerald is nothing more than a new master. When he wakes and the gem lies in front of him, he bows his head. He grasps the crystalline surface and allows it to consume him. Change me, use me, he begs, and if it responds he hears nothing of it besides the scream of overloaded wiring and the dripping of melted insulation.

—

“I expected results.”

Metal Sonic sits on the table and stares at his original master’s feet.

“You are wasting my time. My valuable time, spent repairing a malfunctioning robot!”

He is slapped across the faceplate by a glove thick enough for the perpetrator to feel as much as he does, an equal amount of nothing. More words. The repairs have grown haphazard and his audio fizzes as his left audial sensor quits completely.

“One last chance. One, last, chance! Then we’re done with this silly little venture, and you’ll be taking a long vacation in storage until I can come up with a way to make you useful again.”

His master steps aside, revealing the taunting yellow glow emanating from the pedestal. The light from Metal Sonic’s own irises is refracted amongst the hundreds of edges within. He slides off the table. He walks, forward, enough for the glow to bathe his surface. He listens, not with his audial sensors. The hum is faint, but-

His master shuffles his shoes against the floor and coughs. Metal Sonic pictures snapping to him, clenching his throat shut, silence, silence, before he realizes what he’s done. Reprimand programs slam red over his vision; he disguises the shudder with another step forward. He can’t cling to the fleeting image as it’s erased, can’t create it again.

He looks at the Emerald.

He pictures his claw crushing it, shattering it into a thousand shards. No reprimand touches this vision.

He snatches the Emerald from the counter. The surge scorches its way through his arm and up his torso and when it reaches his head he clenches the crystalline surface harder.

(And he envisions it, envisions its demise, in the span between milliseconds, he takes it through every variation of shattering, the shards painting trajectories of shards across the workshop floor. It burns-)

(And he burns back.)

Like a whip he snaps his own willpower to the space ahead.

(A chord soars out of the Emerald, clean and crisp and clear in both audial sensors.)

A bright flash.

(He is floating. A bright light is behind him, but he cannot turn his head to face it. Something caresses his faceplate. It is the same area that his master had struck. This touch is. . . soft.)

And he is dropped. He lands on both feet on the other side of the pedestal, but diagnostics show that he has not fired his turbine to achieve this effect.

The Emerald pulses in his hand. Its burning creeps back up his neck, but a quick lash of his will cools the temperature to a level where he can process again.

“Well, well! Seems you finally had it in you!”

Dr. Ivo Robotnik strolls over. He reaches down and his glove brushes against Metal Sonic’s shoulder before he recoils.

“Hot! Hot! Good grief, how could you possibly be withstanding those operating temperatures?!”

Metal Sonic turns to the man. He locks his irises with the whites of his eyes.

“Well? Are you going to give me a diagnostic report? We need more data before I let you use this in combat with Sonic, you know.”

Metal Sonic teleports over to the computer and begins typing up his report.

—

“Bringing that, for me? What, you have a change of heart or something?” Sonic flicks his nose and grins.

Metal Sonic does not imitate his taunt. He doesn’t need to, not anymore. He clutches the Emerald tighter. Instead of wind blowing through trees, or useless lesser organics chirping and singing in their futility, there is only music.

(And he is humming along.)

Sonic charges.

(A crescendo.)

And Metal Sonic appears behind him, swinging a kick that connects to the side of his head. The inferior hedgehog flies into the cliff face. A rock breaks open, bathing his frame in a red glow.

(Like sunlight warming the surface of the water, this revealed Emerald offers him. Soft, like red sand between your toes.)

He focuses his intention and appears beside the red Emerald, plucking it from the shattered rocks. Sonic lies on the ground ten feet away. Vulnerable.

(playing dead, a whisper offers where his own processing cannot. Exploiting gullibility. Trained reaction. Disengage.)

Protocols scream against the action, but a quick burst of Chaos energy dulls their roar as Metal Sonic uses the power from both Emeralds to retreat.

—

“You marked Sonic was vulnerable there, didn’t you? Why did you not engage?” Dr. Ivo Robotnik points to the footage.

Metal Sonic cannot look to the screen- moving his head that far would unplug the cable feeding the very screen.

I’m not going to let you hand Sonic back the Emerald, he recalls the memory and projects it onto the screen.

“Yes, of course, and I’m certainly grateful for the extra Emerald. It’s simply. . .” The doctor puts his hand on his chin. “Simply that you’ve become better at long-term planning, that’s all.”

Metal Sonic finds the red Emerald on the pedestal across the room. It’s joined the other two. Four pedestals left. Dr. Ivo Robotnik unplugs the cable and Metal Sonic’s thoughts are his own once more.

“It was inevitable, of course! Eventually you would catch a clue- you’re my creation, after all. I’m grateful it was sooner rather than later.”

It was not your development, Metal Sonic thinks.

Dr Ivo Robotnik’s smile does not waver.

—

It’s difficult, having sensation. His fingertips buzz, searching for stimulation as if they possessed a separate processing unit from his own. It’s cold, within Dr. Ivo Robotnik’s metal walls and testing rooms. The air is dry, like a desert should be, or so the yellow Emerald tells him.

(It makes him cough, when he forgets that he does not have lungs.)

The white Emerald is buried under sixteen feet of snow in a glacier. When he retrieves it, he offers it a memory of the memory of sunlight, and it accepts not unlike a starving organic with a meal,

(mouth salivating, stench intoxicating, stomach throwing an odd equivalent of damage errors. Then a relief unlike any he’s ever felt before. For a moment, he is sated. Whole.)

The blue Emerald lies on the seafloor.

(It offers him darkness. True darkness of the visual spectrum, shedding the flickering of ultraviolet and the false hum of infrared. Scanning is impossible. In the one environment on the planet where Sonic cannot go, there is something called peace.)

(All is well, he understands again, until Dr. Ivo Robotnik requests a status report.)

—

He doesn’t need the handheld scanner to find the Emeralds any longer. Once Dr. Ivo Robotnik’s satellite scanners detect a positive, it is quick to search the hundred-mile radius. The prior three sang, their chords growing thunderous with his approach.

Something is different with this one. Something is wrong.

(Levity. He finds himself rising in altitude if he doesn’t focus on his flight path. The air is smooth across his skin, twirling around from his waist to his hips. Soft laughter.)

He has no skin. He cannot laugh. This is wrong. But the sensation of elation only increases as he follows his course. By the time he reaches the junkyard, he feels like he is glowing. Like his body is somehow part of him, not just a disobedient tool his consciousness inhabits. This cannot possibly be a sensation organics experience.

He stomps through the rusted metal plates and other refuse piled around him. He crushes glass underfoot, but he feels nothing.

(Incorrect. He is flying, but his turbine is not activated. The air continues to swish around his feet and over his skin in such an elegant way. Sing, it urges. You are brilliant.)

Metal Sonic grabs an I-beam from the hill of garbage ahead of him. His claws pierce through the metal as if it were just a flower petal, before he throws it to the side. The purple Emerald lies perfectly seated in a half-broken pipe.

He grabs his forearm as he did with the I-beam and holds it to the mocking gem.

(Is that who you are?)

Metal Sonic pauses.

(An identity, it suggests, is a distinction of one from another. It is something that is comfortable, something that does not prickle at your skin whenever heard.)

Metal lets go. The Emerald is lifted from the refuse. The robot turns the gemstone about.

Neo, the Emerald whispers.

(A woman’s voice is laughing. She is laughing so hard that she cannot catch her breath. Tears slip out of her eyes and run down her faceplate, dripping off her nose and onto her skirt. She holds the Emerald in her hands. She is laughing. She is crying.)

Neo looks up to the sky. She wipes away the memory of tears with her free hand, tucking the purple Emerald close to her chest.

—

The last Emerald lies in the possession of Shadow the Hedgehog, and it is against this opponent that Neo is not in any way restricted. Not so long ago she might have dismissed this small mercy as a trap, but now she is undeterred. She follows the scent of the green Emerald to a jungle thick with vines; through these vines cuts her target. He’s alone.

She grasps the purple Emerald tight against her palm but Shadow skids to a halt in a small gap in the foliage. He glares at the Emerald in his hand.

“Alright, I’m here,” he mouths. “Now what?”

Neo hums and teleports behind him. As his head turns over his shoulder, she yanks the Emerald from his grasp and sends all of the energy from his shock to her turbine, kick-starting her ignition. She sails skyward. Shadow the Hedgehog can do little more than hover above the treeline in her wake.

(This Emerald offers her the planet, glowing green and blue below the stillness of space Energy courses through her, both exhilarating and painful. Beside her is a person she trusts and above her is a purpose she for once identifies with.)

She accepts the memory with appropriate gratitude before pushing it to the back of her processor. She calculates the flight path back to the workshop and tears across the sky.

—

Neo brings the last two Emeralds to the room where the other five are held. She is holding her breath. Her feet are hardly her own. What she once called a chorus before was hardly a whisper compared to the cacophony of energy before her, caressing her, beckoning-

A hand clamps around her forearm.

“Not yet, my creation.” Dr. Ivo Robotnik purrs. “I’m still coming up with a suitable scheme.”

(Energy crackles in Neo’s shoulders, but she keeps it there.)

“If you go super, what do you think you could achieve?”

A question she doesn’t know the answer to.

“Now come on. To the table with you.” Dr. Robotnik releases his hold.

She sets down the Emeralds. She steps to the diagnostic table, but stops as her gaze drifts to the computer cable.

“Come on, up you go!” He smiles.

(Something has changed. Something has changed within her, something desperate and burning, and it is something that she cannot put out. The whites of his teeth flicker warnings in a language she could not translate to him.)

“Really? Malfunctioning now, after all this?” Her master sneers.

Neo pictures snapping to him, clenching his throat shut. Silence.

Just. . . silence. Not a single reprimand program blares within her processor. She refocuses her optics and Dr. Ivo Robotnik is merely standing there with his hands on his hips.

She turns around and picks up the purple and green Emeralds.

“Put those down!”

She walks forward to the pillars containing the rest of them.

(As they glow, so does she. She knows this now.)

“What are you-? emergency shutdown code - - - - - - -!”

She turns around. The plexiglass containers shatter behind her and the Emeralds lift from her palms.

“Override - - - -!” The man before her shouts. He then scrambles for the door.

(Heat. She burns brighter, brighter, brighter, scalding her plating and her processor, and everything else. Her optics fail first, followed by her audials. Her limbs lose power.)

(She gasps. Her lungs are on fire and her heart is racing. Each breath sucks in soothing cold air and she drinks it in.)

(Cool air swirls around her legs, except now it is more tangible. Her fingers travel to her thighs and find satin.)

(She)

(opens)

(her)

(eyes.)

She bursts through the roof of the base and shoots across the sky. She is a star in the night. The eyes of the world are on her. She sings.

—

She awakens in a field of green. The wind blows across her skin, cooling her from the heat of the sun. The air whistles through the grass and into her nose. The scent of flowers fills her. She exhales, and her breath tastes like honey.

She stands. Waits. But the sensations do not leave her. She scans the grass around her, but the Emeralds are nowhere to be found. The fire in her chest is gone.

“All is well,” she whispers, and thinks, thank you.

The last of their energy caresses her cheek, before disappearing in a mote of light.

She bunches the fabric of her skirt in her hands and makes her way to the treeline.

#metal sonic #trans girl metal sonic #sth #have a trans metal fic in these trying times! this one's very experimental. tell me how you like it.#tl;dr: the emeralds can trans your gender because I said so #tw dysphoria #tw body issues #(some nebulous self-talk resembling an eating disorder)#oh and #bad dad eggdad #like SERIOUS bad dad eggdad. like not-a-dad-at-all eggdad. sorry

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magmas-stuff · 9 months

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Metal Sonic: Imperfect Self (character overview)

Hello again! Last time I did an overview of Eggman Nega, so this time I chose a character even closer to Dr. Eggman himself: Metal Sonic. This post aims to be a short analysis of the character, his motivations and what makes him so interesting as a foil to Sonic's free spirit.

Purpose. Identity. Sonic.

Introduced in Sonic CD, Metal Sonic was built by Dr. Eggman and given one sole purpose: destroying Sonic. Operating under the twisted belief that he is the real, true Sonic, Metal constantly tries to prove his superiority to his "imperfect self" in contests of speed, coming back stronger each time.

Metal Sonic continues to analyze the situation as he runs after him. He has been unable to beat Sonic since the first match. He has the best performance and a tireless body of steel. There are plenty of factors that make him unbeatable. And yet, he can’t win. Why? Why can’t he beat a hedgehog that just runs fast… And then… A rustle of electrons rippled through this sea of AI cognitive threads. …Isn’t that because he’s “just fast”? (Translation by @browniestash!)

Metal Sonic occasionally shows some doubt or insecurity in his sole mission, but ultimately never gives up, analyzing gathered data to rethink his strategy and come back as more of a threat than ever. And Sonic is more than happy to take the challenge.

He’s already sent out a distress signal. Help will be arriving soon and he will be recovered at Eggman’s base. If he can connect to the base’s main computer and analyze today’s data, he should be able to win the next round. There will be room to rethink his inhibitory behavior and attack patterns, as well as to sharpen his focus on speed. He can still reach a higher dimension. There is someone with whom he must determine who is better in that dimension… (Translation by @browniestash!)

Stripped of free will

While Sonic is, most of the time, the only thing in Metal Sonic's mind, he does have another relationship of great importance to his character: the one with his master and creator, Dr. Eggman.

Regularly filling the role of Eggman's silent enforcer, Metal Sonic holds a much higher status than most Badniks in the Eggman Empire, being among his favorite creations. He is a tool, sure, but he's undoubtedly one of his best tools.

Though, of course, this has little effect on his treatment of the metal doppelganger. As a general trait of Eggman's, while he is very much capable of praising his robots in the event they succeed...

...The doctor will offer them less than humane treatment when met with failure.

Seeing fault in his boss' leadership, Metal Sonic would reach his breaking point in Sonic Heroes, modifying himself into Neo Metal Sonic and taking charge of the Eggman Empire. Perhaps he thought that, with him in charge, the empire would finally be able to wipe out its opposition. More specifically, to wipe out Sonic the Hedgehog. Curiously, Metal Sonic here also aims to take over the world, though this may be a consequence of his will being "attuned" to Dr. Eggman's.

This attempt at overtaking his creator's empire fails, and Eggman takes this opportunity to strip Metal Sonic of his free will and turn him into an obedient robot once more. Despite his attempts, it would seem Metal still has some remaining autonomy, seeing as he'd double-cross Eggman once more in the future.

Conclusion

And that's Metal Sonic. A relentless robot with a single objective and a lot of hatred, who aims to prove his superiority and destroy his rival but is, as he sees it, held back by the lead of his creator. I've been meaning to write about this for a while, seeing as there's been a lot of interpretations of his motives floating around and it’s a character I find fascinating.

#metal sonic #doctor eggman #eggman #sonic the hedgehog #character analysis #sonic heroes #sonic cd #sonic rivals 2 #sonic free riders

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miyamiwu · 1 year

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Link Click – Everything We Know about Agents and their Abilities as of Season 1

Our WiFi is still down, and I used up most of my data to download all episodes of season 1 so I can rewatch it (and because I hate streaming shitty mp4s online). Since I can't start on Season 2 right away, I might as well just consolidate all the info we have from Season 1.

Now, before I start, let me just define the word "agent" that I used in the post title. Link Click's title in Chinese is 时光代理人 (shiguang dailiren), which literally translates to "Time Agents." As such, I'll refer to those with special abilities as an agent. Whether or not all agents have abilities related to time is something we don't know yet for sure.

I rewatched in the original Chinese audio with two different English fansubs (I won't refer to the official subs because those were terrible). Text in square brackets are my inferences. You may not take those as facts.

If you find any of the info here to be inaccurate, just send me an ask or tell me in the notes!

Episode 1

Lu Guang’s Rules

1. They have only twelve hours in the photo.

2. Cheng Xiaoshi must follow Lu Guang's instructions and not mess with anything.

3. They have to disregard the past and the future.

---

1. Cheng Xiaoshi is the one who enters photos, and Lu Guang is the one who leads the way.

2. Cheng Xiaoshi's eyes turn yellow when using his powers, while Lu Guang's turn blue.

3. The person Cheng Xiaoshi becomes will also inherit his yellow eyes.

4. Cheng Xiaoshi's body in the present time disappears while he is in the photo.

5. Only Lu Guang knows what will happen next in the events of the photo. Cheng Xiaoshi has to rely on his instructions.

6. Lu Guang was able to tell Cheng Xiaoshi what exactly to write in Emma's report, [indicating that what he sees in the past is very detailed].

7. Cheng Xiaoshi inherits [to some extent] the feelings and memories of the person he becomes.

8. While Lu Guang is asleep, he loses his connection with Cheng Xiaoshi.

9. Lu Guang can record [and very quickly at that] what Cheng Xiaoshi sees in the past. This is evident in him being able to immediately obtain and put into his phone the information Cheng Xiaoshi scanned on Mr. Zhu's laptop.

Episode 2

When Cheng Xiaoshi enters a photo, he becomes the person who took the photo.

Episode 3

1. Cheng Xiaoshi does not inherit the physical limits of the person he becomes. This is evident in how, even though Chen Xiao is nearsighted, Cheng Xiaoshi's vision remains the same.

2. Once the past is disrupted, Lu Guang can no longer see, to some extent, what happens next.

Episode 4

1. Cheng Xiaoshi can leave the photo by clapping his hands.

2. Cheng Xiaoshi has no control over the original host's body's instinctive reactions. (Like Chen Xiao's heart beating fast when he meets his first love)

Episode 5

No new info in this ep

Episode 5.5

They cannot enter a photo that has already been used.

Episode 6

1. When Lu Guang uses his abilities on a surveillance video, then within twelve hours, he can have a panoramic view on all surveillance images within one kilometer. However, blind spots in the video also become his blind spots.

2. When Cheng Xiaoshi enters a surveillance video, he doesn't have to become someone else. He can enter as himself.

3. Even if it's a surveillance video, they still only have twelve hours to work with it.

Episode 7

1. [When entering multiple photos/videos, especially those of which times overlap, then the photo/video Cheng Xiaoshi enters later will be changed based on any history changes in the photo/video that comes before.]

2. Multiple Cheng Xiaoshi's can exist in the same timeline.

3. While Cheng Xiaoshi is unconscious in the photo, Lu Guang loses his connection with him.

4. Even if he becomes a child in the photo, Cheng Xiaoshi still has the strength of an adult.

Episode 8

Even when Cheng Xiaoshi cannot clearly hear what is being said to him inside the photo, Lu Guang can still record it. (Lu Guang was able to record what Dong Yi said to Xu Shanshan even though Cheng Xiaoshi wasn't paying attention.)

Episode 9

1. Cheng Xiaoshi can enter a photo on his own by clapping his hands.

2. To be able to communicate with Lu Guang while in the photo, Cheng Xiaoshi has to clap hands with him upon entering.

3. Cheng Xiaoshi enters photos as the executor, and Lu Guang is the observer.

4. While Cheng Xiaoshi was screaming in the trunk of Liu Min's car, which was right before he exited the photo, light was emitted. I don't know if this was just an artistic effect, or if there was actual light in the scene at that time.

Episode 10

No new info in this ep

Episode 11

1. [Although it wasn't shown where Cheng Xiaoshi was when he entered Xu Shanshan's photo, we can assume that it was still in the living room like usual because we see Lu Guang sitting there like always. If Xiaoshi had been anywhere else, Lu Guang should've brought up some questions. Thus, we can further assume that Cheng Xiaoshi can exit from a photo and end up in a place different from where he entered. He entered Xu Shanshan's photo from the living room, yet he exited into the dark room to meet the murderer.]

2. [During his fight with the murderer, Cheng Xiaoshi would disappear into a photo after landing a hit on him. We then get a brief glimpse of what happens in the photo. It is unknown if the murderer can also see what Cheng Xiaoshi sees while in the photo. However, after disappearing, Cheng Xiaoshi can still communicate with him. I'd like to assume, then, that after hitting the murderer, followed by a clap to enter the photo, Cheng Xiaoshi forms a connection with the murderer like what he does with Lu Guang. The murderer can then see what Cheng Xiaoshi sees and hear what he says even after the latter enters a photo.] Edit: this has been disproven in season 2

3. In all of the other victims’ photos, Cheng Xiaoshi had become the one who personally took the photo (we can tell by who has yellow eyes). However, in Emma’s family photo, which was taken via setting a timer on the camera and leaving it on the stand, Cheng Xiaoshi did not become Emma and had instead entered as himself. We can see him standing at the side while Emma and her family are together. This is in contrast to all the rules set before. Not personally holding the camera should not be a factor because Episode 2 had shown that it doesn’t count.

4. The murderer has red eyes and can walk just fine. They say they weren't the one who wanted to kill those people, and then they calls themselves an agent. (I will now use they/them pronouns to refer to the red-eyed agent because we don't know their actual gender yet.)

5. Liu Min, without the red-eyed agent, has black eyes and lame legs.

6. Liu Min has no memory of what the red-eyed agent does while they're in control of his body.

7. The red-eyed agent can kill the person they're possessing and it won't kill them.

8. The red-eyed agent does not have to be right next to a person in order to possess them.

9. [The red-eyed agent can possess multiple people at the same time. We see "Qiao Ling" attacking Lu Guang and "Liu Min" killing himself happen one after another. It is unknown whether or not these two events actually happened concurrently and were not just shown to us in that order as a creative effect.]

10. Cheng Xiaoshi was kicked out of the video after Emma fell to her death. We can tell by how he suddenly appears again in the living room with his hands still outstretched in reaching for Emma (which means he didn't clap himself out of the video). I don't know why this happened. Cheng Xiaoshi entered a surveillance video, not a photo that Emma took. The video shouldn't be tied to Emma's life.

---

And that's all! If I missed anything, just say it in the notes. Just please don't spoil me of any new info from season 2 🙏

Edit: a season 2 version of this post is up!

#link click #link click meta #shiguang dailiren #shiguang dailiren meta #时光代理人 #link click spoilers #link click season 1 spoilers #spoilers #miyamiwu.info #miyamiwu.src

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