#inverse rouge

[smileythefirst]

Wow, more AU stuff?! (Yeah-) + Needlemouse cuz yes

Also the Pentas sketch was just me figuring out her color palette so the sketch was hella rushed (first time drawing a comic, too, I know it sucks 😭)

[cattyanon]

Personality Inversion AU: Shadow and Rouge

Shadow

Peppy and outgoing.

Tries not to linger on the past.

Had a somewhat rocky relationship with Maria but still cared for her and was really sad when she died.

Very talkative. Despite this he tends to watch what he says in fear of hurting somebody's feelings.

Secretly judgemental of people but won't say anything about his thoughts unless important.

Loves hanging out with friends. Especially loves bothering Sonic because he thinks Sonic should learn to live a little and stop hiding away inside all day. Sonic begs to differ but Shadow doesn't care about that.

Master of bluffing in combat, but only because you never know if he's actually bluffing or not. It always keeps his opponents on their toes.

Not very competitive.

Tends to second guess his own actions but pushes forwards regardless when lives are on the line.

Rouge

Still has a fondness for shiny things but is not obsessive.

Doesn't like stealing.

Has trouble putting on a brave face.

Relies heavily on her friends.

Optimistic but can also be blunt at times.

Pretty bad at keeping secrets and has the worst poker face.

Wears her heart on her sleeve.

Hates manipulation.

Doesn't meet Shadow through GUN but rather a chance encounter.

Runs a small jewelery store rather than a club. This is how she met Shadow because she happened to find a Chaos Emerald and decided to keep it since she didn't realize it was a magical gem, but Shadow was able to sniff it out.

Doesn't like getting involved in things but, caring greatly for her friends, will get involved for the sake of those she holds dear.

[fabseg-creator]

I present to you the first direct sketch about the O.P. (Opposite Universe).

Ladybug and Cat miraculous holders from the O.P. are here:

I introduce you Rouge Chance and Alley Cat.

Alley Cat's real identity is Cerise Lenoir (Lila's Opposite counterpart).

Cerise was an orphan girl who was hosted and adopted by Marianne Lenoir. It's Marianne who educated her and learned to her the mankind's, family's and love's values. Thanks to her, Cerise has knowledge skills about miraculouses' powers and she's become the New guardian of the Miracle box.

Rouge Chance's identity is not yet revealed but I will let you guess that in a future update (Spoiler: It's neither Marinette nor Adrien nor Alya. It's another person).

Rouge Chance is the Miraculous team leader at Paris. He's not interested by the Fame (because he's pissed of that) and he doesn't recquire autographs from any people like pop-stars, actors, stylists, top-models, etc..

There are Miraculous adult characters here with their personas are different (even inversed) in the list. Meanwhile, they have details that will surprise you. I drawed Colt Fathom (from leaks), Félix's father, not yet introduced in the TV show.

Example: In Canon, Colt is officially deceased. In Opposite, Colt is still alive and he has adopted Adrien after the latter's parents' deaths.

I let you imagine O.P. Adrien's life with Fathom's family (Colt, Félix and Amélie).

List of available Opposite characters:

Colt Fathom. Billionaire with multiple nationalities (American-British-French). Negligect parent like in canon.

Roger Raincomprix. Mayor of Paris.

Tomoe Tsurugi. Kagami's mother. Mercantile. Progressist on tradition values instead Traditionalist.

Caline Bustier, Teacher who is annoyed with her pupils.

Nathalie Sancoeur. Archeologist. Owner of the Agreste's mansion since Gabriel's and Émilie's deaths.

Xavier Ramier. He hates birds (mainly pigeons).

Master Fu. Former guardian of the Miracle Box. Marianne's defunct love interest. Died as a hero of the Résistance during the 1940-1944 Occupation period.

[urween]

"Quatre secondes"

Wolverine x

M/FTMreader

note : mutant!reader

résumé : Logan entend malgré lui des bruits assez dérangeants dans une chambre voisine, il sera surpris de découvrir de qui ils proviennent

! warnings : forme de voyeurisme, violence, langage vulgaire/cru, évocation de sexualité et de guerre, alcool, jalousie

3 805 mots Description à la troisième personne

Il avait une ouïe surdéveloppée, tout le monde le savait. Les élèves qui se disputaient, il les entendait. Les vitres cassées par un ballon, il les entendait. Les rires à deux heures du matin, ça putain ouais il les entendait aussi. En bref, il entendait tout ce qu’il se passait dans le manoir, du moins au deuxième étage. D’habitude, aucun problème à s’endormir avec ces bruits, il avait déjà dormi sous des tirs de fusils alors des gosses n’allaient pas l’empêcher de se reposer. Enfin, c'est ce qu’il pensait. Les rires, les insultes, les chuchotements, d’accord, mais les gémissements c'étaient autre chose encore.

Au deuxième étage il n’y avait que les étudiants ayant dépassé la majorité, pour ceux que l’on pouvait dater, et quelquefois il arrivait que ce genre de choses se produisent mais rien de terrible, c'était léger et rapide, tout l’inverse de ces dernières fois. Parce que oui, “ces” dernières fois. Pas juste une fois, un vendredi soir pour fêter le weekend, non, tous les putains de soirs depuis une semaine. Alors Logan commençait à regretter son ouïe surdéveloppée.

Il n’avait jamais bien dormi, c'était pas son genre, mais ne pas dormir n'était pas son genre non plus. Il avait besoin de sommeil. Son corps avait beau se régénérer, il devait se reposer, pour éviter d'être de mauvaise humeur, encore plus que d’habitude je veux dire.

Mais aller toquer à la porte de cette chambre et demander poliment d'arrêter de baiser tous les soirs n'était pas non plus dans ses options. Malgré son caractère, assez explosif, Logan n’aimait pas ces situations, elles le mettaient toujours très mal à l’aise. Et puis, il devait avouer aussi qu’admettre que depuis une semaine il écoutait sans le vouloir ces bruits était un peu gênant, voire même beaucoup.

Lors de ces nuits blanches, Logan était parvenu à localiser la chambre d’où prévenait tout ce boucan. C'était la dernière, tout au fond du couloir, à environ cinq chambres de la sienne. Si sa mémoire était bonne, Oscar dormait là-dedans. Un mec assez banal et gentillet, le genre à se faire recaler par toutes ses conquêtes amoureuses. Et pourtant il en faisait du bordel. Bien entendu il n'était pas tout seul dans l’histoire, mais Logan ne voyait pas qui pourrait être la deuxième personne. Oscar avait des ami.e.s mais rien de fantastique, pas de petit.e ami.e non plus et en aucun cas une mutation permettant de faire ce genre de choses tout seul. En fait, il pouvait juste manipuler les couleurs, mais pas à un très haut niveau, seulement inverser le jaune d’une banane avec le rouge d’une fraise par exemple. Alors Logan séchait, il ne voyait pas qui ça pouvait bien être. Et même la voix ne l’aidait pas, il entendait davantage Oscar que l’autre. Même si quelquefois il parvenait à capter une voix, très douce, très tremblante, et il devait l'avouer, assez agréable à entendre. Mais ce n'était pas sa faute, il ne pouvait pas ne pas écouter, ses oreilles entendaient pour lui. Et même avec des bouchons il entendait tout, puis de toute manière il ne supportait pas ces trucs en plastique fluorescent.

Au bout de la cinquième fois, il avait eu espoir que ça s’arrête, qu’ils arrêtent. Mais ce n'était pas arrivé.

Honnêtement, il était un peu à cran. Les élèves le remarquaient très clairement, dès le début de la semaine ils avaient vu que Wolverine était d’humeur cinglante, ils se tenaient encore plus à carreaux. Leur soulagement était qu’au moins il n'était pas professeur, parce qu’ils se voyaient mal avoir à endurer ce regard enflammé pendant une voire deux heures de cours. Logan était simplement “invité”, ou peut-être “habitant”, ou “babysitter” aussi parfois. Charles lui avait proposé un poste en tant que professeur d’histoire, mais il avait vite refusé, ne voulant pas avoir à se coltiner des évaluations à corriger et une cravate à porter. Quelquefois il donnait des sortes de cours, ou plutôt des entraînements, dans le combat bien entendu. Et puis un ou deux, ou une petite dizaine d’élèves peut-être, lui demandait fréquemment de les aider à la salle de sport, pour des conseils ou juste un soutien physique. Avec tout ça il avait fini par connaître tout le monde, même s’il n’en avait pas l’air, il aimait plutôt bien ces gosses.

Et puisque officiellement il n’avait rien à faire, il pouvait observer Oscar, ou plutôt avec qui il traînait.

Appuyé contre un encadrement de porte, Logan ne détacha pas son regard du jeune homme. Malicia était passée parler à Oscar, et des sueurs froides avaient parcouru le dos de Logan en imaginant cette possibilité, mais heureusement elle était avec Bobby dans une chambre à l'autre bout du couloir. Katt était aussi passée pour lui donner des livres, mais Logan savait qu’elle avait déjà quelqu’un d’autre dans le viseur, ça ne pouvait donc pas être elle. Quentin, Mark, Sophie et Sasha aussi. En fait, Oscar parlait à beaucoup de monde et n’avait pourtant pas d’amis fixes.

Dix-sept heures et Logan commençait à râler. Pour un samedi, Oscar en voyait du monde, il faisait courir Logan un peu partout. Et dans tout ça, personne ne pouvait correspondre.

« Salut, tu as pu le récupérer ? »

Devant lui, à une quinzaine de mètres, Oscar discutait avec une nouvelle personne encore. Logan leva les yeux au ciel derrière ses lunettes de soleil et s’appuya davantage sur l’arbre dans son dos.

« Mh mh, Tornade a été compréhensive, elle m'a même aidé à le réparer »

Le garçon souriait faiblement, il n'était pas timide, Logan le savait puisqu’il connaissait assez bien ce jeune homme, c'était même lui qui l’avait ramené.

Il y a quatre mois, Logan est parti, sans vraiment savoir pourquoi, pour être honnête, il voulait juste aller près d’un lac et regarder la forêt vivre en face. Mais il a entendu un couinement, humain, ou du moins pas animal. En fait, il a failli couper la tête à ce garçon lors de leur première rencontre, il s'était caché dans un buisson derrière lui. Logan l’a écouté lui expliquer qu’il avait fuit sa maison pour échapper à des personnes qui ne l’appréciaient pas, il disait que sa famille lui manquait beaucoup mais qu’il ne pouvait pas revenir avec eux car c'était dangereux. Puis, sorti de nul part, il lui a dit qu’il était désolé pour tout ce qu’il avait vécu. Logan l’a fixé, pendant un long moment avant de demander : “tu lis dans les pensées ?”. Ce à quoi le garçon a répondu : “j’interprète les signes invisibles”. Il a fallu dix bonnes minutes pour que Logan comprenne, et qu'il se détende un peu par la même occasion. Le garçon lui a demandé pardon, il a dit ne pas avoir voulu être trop brusque mais qu’il n’avait pas pu s'empêcher de le dire, parce qu’il voyait la souffrance sur les traits de Logan. La discussion s'était arrêtée là, Logan s'était levé et avait lentement soufflé, il n'aimait pas parler de sa vie alors savoir que quelqu'un pouvait lire en lui comme dans un livre ouvert l'avait dérangé. Le garçon s'était encore une fois excusé, les larmes aux yeux, et Logan l'avait regardé pendant quatre secondes, quatre longues secondes qui lui avaient fait ressentir plus que quatre années. Il avait pris le garçon dans ses bras, il n’avait pas contrôlé son geste, il voulait juste le prendre dans ses bras pour quelques instants. Après, Logan l'avait emmené au Manoir, et ils s’étaient vite perdus de vue dans la masse de mutants. Mais il le regardait, il ne pouvait pas s'empêcher de le regarder lorsqu'il passait devant une salle de classe et qu’il le voyait en train de prendre des notes, ou lorsqu’il écoutait de la musique dans le jardin. Logan se sentait un peu attaché à ce garçon, enfin, ce jeune homme, puisqu’il avait vingt-trois ans.

« Génial, Oscar sourit gentiment, et..tu peux venir ce soir ? »

Logan ouvrit grand les yeux. Oscar fixait le garçon avec un sourire, un peu trop grand pour n'être qu’une invitation à jouer aux cartes.

« Je sais pas trop, tu sais ça va beaucoup mieux là donc..je veux pas forcer de trop, répondit l'autre avec un regard neutre, contrastant avec la situation »

Bordel, il ne s’attendait pas à ce que ça soit lui. Mais en y repensant, ça semblait presque logique maintenant. La voix faible et tremblante était aussi calme et douce que la sienne, et puis il parlait beaucoup avec Oscar depuis quelque temps.

Logan lâcha son arbre, il retira ses lunettes et passa sa main contre ses yeux. Bordel de merde, il ne s'attendait pas à ça. Il avait besoin d’un peu de calme, et d’une bière accessoirement, alors il alla s’enfermer dans sa chambre.

Dans le jardin, Oscar et le garçon continuaient de parler, mais Logan n'était plus là pour les entendre, malheureusement.

« Aah putain ouais »

Deux jours, ils avaient tenu deux jours avant de recommencer. Et Logan n’allait plus tenir, surtout maintenant qu’il savait à qui parlait Oscar.

Bordel, il n’aimait pas ça, non il n'aimait pas ça du tout. Cette contraction dans sa mâchoire, ses muscles tendus, son cerveau en ébullition. Bordel, ça faisait des années qu'il n'avait pas été jaloux, et il fallait que ça tombe sur ce mec.

Sincèrement, il devrait avoir une médaille pour ne pas déjà avoir lacéré cette foutue porte de chambre, et peut-être au passage un des hommes à l’intérieur. Mais c’était quelque chose de compliqué à contrôler, la colère elle était faite pour sa mutation, elle était compatible. Alors oui, putain oui il avait envie de sortir ses griffes et de défoncer cette porte. Mais il se retenait, parce que concrètement il n’y avait rien, rien que deux types en train de coucher ensemble. Il n’avait aucun droit sur ce garçon, il lui avait à peine parler, et pourtant un truc au fond de lui, au plus profond de sa cage thoracique, lui disait qu’il était sien. Foutu Wolverine, foutu instinct.

Il se leva, arrêtant de massacrer son oreiller avec ses dents. Il ouvrit sa porte de chambre et descendit le plus vite possible au rez-de-chaussée, assez vite pour se retenir de sortir ses griffes. Bien sûr il n’y avait personne, tout le monde était dans sa chambre et dormait, enfin sauf certains. Logan ouvrit le réfrigérateur et y prit un soda, puisque l'alcool était interdit dans l’établissement. Il but la moitié de la bouteille, manquant d’en faire couler sur son menton. Il essaya de se persuader que c'était de la bière, mais le sucre gâchait tout.

Un bâillement le fit sursauter. Par réflexe ses griffes sortirent, prêtes à embrocher.

« Wow range tes couteaux je veux juste de l’eau ! »

Le garçon se tenait devant lui, dans un large t-shirt beaucoup trop grand pour lui. Logan rentra immédiatement ses griffes, posant à l’aveugle son soda sur le comptoir de la cuisine.

« Qu’est-ce que tu fous ici ? »

Sa voix granuleuse, rauque, presque incompréhensible lorsqu’il parlait trop bas. Le garçon déglutit faiblement, il avança et passa derrière l’îlot central pour attraper un verre dans le placard. Logan semblait bouleversé, ok non peut-être pas autant, juste un peu déboussolé alors. Ses yeux étaient plus ouverts que la normale, ses pupilles larges, rondes, et ce n'était pas pour l’obscurité, il y avait au moins deux millimètres en trop pour que ce soit le cas. Et puis sa mâchoire était tendue, pas contractée mais elle l’avait été très récemment ça se voyait, il y avait encore les micros tremblements musculaires sur le masséter. Et sa peau était pigmentée, par du rouge amarante, posé par points s’étirant petit à petit le long de l’os principal.

« Je viens juste chercher de l’eau, pas besoin d'être aussi agressif »

Logan essaya de respirer, vraiment, mais il avait un peu de mal. Est-ce qu’il venait boire pour compenser toute la sueur épuisée, est-ce que ce t-shirt était à Oscar, est-ce que cette odeur était la sienne.

« Cale-toi sur le battement de tes cils, dit le garçon en s’appuyant sur le lavabo, la respiration devient meilleure et régulée lorsque les clignements sont plus lents et contrôlés »

Logan lui lança un regard, entre l’interrogation et la désorientation. Le garçon lui sourit, il but une gorgée de son eau avant de reprendre la parole.

« Les signes invisibles, expliqua-t-il, tu es stressé, énervé et frustré, je dirais que c’est en rapport avec quelqu'un et je pourrais même dire que c’est moi mais j’aime pas être narcissique alors je le dirais pas »

Le jeune émit une courte pause, juste le temps d'interpréter les réactions de l’homme en face de lui.

« J’ai raison, et en plus de tout ça je dirais que tu es totalement paumé, il se rapprocha, regarde moi, dans les yeux, fixe moi et seulement moi, il posa sa main sur la joue droite de Logan, ne crois pas que j’essaie de te draguer, je te calme juste, parce que ça m’embêterait que le Wolverine fasse une crise d’angoisse à cause de moi »

Les spasmes oculaires se calmèrent, Logan l'écoutait et le fixait comme il lui avait dit. Son cœur ralentissait, tout doucement, pas d’un coup sec et c'était bon signe. Sa gorge était toujours serrée, il retenait quelque chose, son air ou sa voix peut-être, ou alors une réaction, oui une réaction.

« Tu peux sourire si tu veux, je vais pas te croquer tu sais, il sourit doucement à Logan pour appuyer ses mots, et puis je sais très bien que c’est toujours amusant comme situation, il retira doucement la main du visage de Logan, je veux dire, que quelqu’un sache exactement ce que tu penses et fais sans qu'il lise dans tes pensées, ça fait flipper, ou rire, ça dépend des personnes »

Sa gorge se desserra très légèrement, et un souffle amusé passa ses lèvres. Le garçon s'écarta de quelques pas, pour avoir une vue d’ensemble, et tout sembla à peu près stable.

« Comment tu peux faire ça »

Il sourit de nouveau à Logan et répondit en montrant de la tête les mains de ce dernier.

« Et toi, comment tu peux faire ça »

Logan reprit sa bouteille dans un sourire amusé, il la finit en quelques gorgées. En face, le garçon fixait la pomme d’Adam monter et descendre dans une lenteur hypnotisante. Il devait l'avouer, Logan lui plaisait beaucoup.

« Je- je vais remonter du coup, dit-il en se redressant »

La bouteille de soda vide fit un bruit aigu en se posant contre le plan de travail. Logan croisa les bras et prit deux secondes pour observer le jeune homme qui le regardait toujours.

« Tu t’entends bien avec Oscar ? »

Ce micro tremblement dans sa voix grave, il soulignait une retenue. Le garçon fronça les sourcils et pencha la tête sur le côté, réfléchissant à ce signe plutôt qu'à la question. La voix de Logan était plus forte, d’environ trois décibels, plus puissante surtout, oui puissante. Son visage était fermé, comme la plupart du temps, mais les muscles de ses joues n'étaient pas contractés contrairement à d’habitude, il était plus détendu à certains endroits de son corps. La bouche, les yeux, les hanches et le ventre. Ok, on touchait au personnel, la question avait un rapport avec son personnel.

« Il est gentil oui, pourquoi ? Tu le connais ? »

Léger mouvement du sourcil droit, ça l'agaçait.

« Non, répondit Logan, pas plus que n’importe quel mec »

Son regard un peu fuyant, qui contournait la silhouette du garçon. Ok, il avait sa réponse.

« Tu es jaloux Logan, expliqua le jeune homme avec un grand sourire, t’es tellement jaloux que le simple fait de parler d’Oscar fait bouger tes griffes »

Il se rapprocha de l’homme, assez pour laisser un mètre entre eux deux. Logan planta son regard dans celui de l’autre, et le garçon su qu'il avait raison.

« Il est à qui ce t-shirt »

Son sourire ne fit que de s’agrandir.

« À un homme, répondit le plus jeune »

« Qui »

Des frissons se mirent à courir contre la peau du garçon, la voix de Logan était encore plus forte, plus grave encore.

« Tu irais déchiqueté l’intestin d’Oscar si je te disais son prénom ? »

Le point de Logan se resserra, non il lui mettrait un coup de poing, et Dieu sait comme de l’adamantium pur dans la mâchoire peut faire des dégâts. Le garçon se rapprocha encore un peu.

« Je pense que Charles ne sera pas très content si tu mets dans le coma un de ses élèves, mh ? »

Doucement, lentement surtout, il posa sa main sur les phalanges de Logan. Ses doigts se refermèrent sur les os solides de l’homme, créant une chaleur diffuse à ce niveau.

« Range ces armes, arrête de serrer des dents, tu vas finir par te les casser et surtout, il caressa de son pouce la peau de Logan, continue de me regarder comme ça si tu veux que je t’embrasse »

Quatre secondes, quatre longues secondes. Logan y vit toute la tendresse du monde, remuant dans les iris du jeune homme en face de lui. Toute la fraîcheur du matin, pigmentant sa peau. Il y vit un courant puissant circuler derrière ces yeux, un courant d’eau et d'électricité, quelque chose de grand et dangereux, tout au fond derrière ces beaux yeux. La mutation de ce garçon était puissante, grande et dangereuse si elle était mal contrôlée, il pouvait tuer en un regard, un souffle ou un toucher. Ces beaux yeux avaient accès aux corps de n’importe quel être vivant, des poumons aux paupières, il pouvait tout voir avec ces beaux yeux. Il pouvait ressentir le clignement ayant qu’il n’arrive juste en un regard dans les iris de quelqu’un, il pouvait l’intercepter ou le supprimer. Un regard sur le cœur humain et il y voyait le rythme, rapide pour Logan, il pouvait le stopper, il pouvait le contrôler. Il pouvait stopper le Wolverine comme le contrôler, comme s’il ne s’agissait que d’un simple être humain, comme s’il n’avait pas ce poison sur les os et que sa peau vieillissait au rythme des années. Il pouvait tuer Logan, comme n’importe quel autre mutant ou humain, il pouvait s’il le voulait le rendre mortel, il avait ce pouvoir. Il le rendait mortel, parce que d’un regard, d’un souffle ou d’un toucher, il pouvait lui ôter la vie. Logan ressentait ça, il voyait ce courant puissant danser dans ces beaux yeux. Et putain, il adorait ça.

Et aussi peut-être que dans ces beaux yeux, dans ce courant chargé d’électricité humide, il pouvait imaginer tout son futur, se gravant à l’encre rouge sur ses lèvres entrouvertes. Parce qu’il avait quelqu’un de dangereux en face de lui, des lèvres dangereuses qui pouvaient lui ôter la vie, comme personne n’en avait jamais eu le pouvoir.

Pour la première fois depuis des années, il pouvait légitimement éprouver de la peur, la peur de la mort qui se cachait sur ces lèvres, ces lèvres qu’il embrassa à pleine bouche.

Le jeune homme ne put s’empêcher de gémir en sentant les lèvres de Logan contre les siennes. Il aurait pensé devoir se battre avec le temps pour pouvoir suivre le rythme d'un baiser avec Wolverine, mais c'était tout l’inverse. Il était doux, ses mouvements lents et contrôlés, sa main tendre contre la joue du garçon. Il prenait son temps, tout son temps. Il caressait de son pouce la peau laiteuse du jeune homme, il souriait faiblement entre deux rencontres buccales, semblant même murmurer des mots que seul lui entendait, mais que le garçon interprétait.

Logan poussa l'autre contre le réfrigérateur, faisant tomber quelques cartes postales et aimants. Il prit le visage du garçon entre ses deux mains et le regarda pendant encore quatre secondes, quatre secondes pour voir tout le courage dont il avait besoin.

« Alors, il est à qui ce t-shirt ? »

Un rire traversa les lèvres rougies du plus jeune, Logan remercia les dieux de lui avoir donné une ouïe surdéveloppée pour entendre mille fois mieux ce joli son.

« À mon frère, il me l'a donné avant que je ne parte et depuis je le porte les soirs où ma famille me manque »

La relaxation musculaire de Logan fut presque impressionnante.

« Donc il est pas à Oscar ? »

« Non, il est pas à Oscar, répondit-il avec un sourire »

La main du plus jeune se posa sur la nuque de Logan, il lui sourit encore une fois, parce qu'il avait un peu toujours envie de sourire en le regardant.

« Tu nous a entendu c’est ça ? En fait je pensais pas qu’il pouvait être aussi bruyant pour être honnête »

« C'était toi ? C'était vraiment toi ? »

Ses muscles se contractèrent de nouveau et le garçon roula des yeux, plus amusé qu'autre chose. Dans sa paume de main il pouvait sentir le trapèze supérieur de Logan se resserrer, ou si l’on voulait traduire, il pouvait sentir les muscles de Logan se contracter sous sa paume de main.

« Oui c'était moi mais de ce que je sache j'ai le droit de coucher avec qui je veux, non ? Demanda-t-il de sa douce voix »

Logan baissa pendant quelques instants ses yeux, le garçon lui pinça faiblement la peau pour les faire remonter vers lui.

« Ma mutation est complexe Logan, et parfois j'ai besoin d’une grande source de relaxation pour calmer tous mes sens, il continua en souriant, tu sais quelle activité produit le plus d’endorphines le plus rapidement ? Le sexe, et Oscar m’a aidé parce que c'était le seul en qui j’avais assez confiance pour faire ça »

Il fit glisser ses mains le long du torse de Logan.

« Du moins, le seul étudiant, il encercla la taille de l’homme au dessus de lui, parce que crois-moi j’aurais adoré te demander, mais tu es..Wolverine tu vois et- je me voyais mal demander à Wolverine de coucher avec moi, parce que t'es un X-Men et moi je suis juste un mutant qui vit dans le même manoir que toi »

Logan posa ses lèvres contre une des pommettes du jeune homme, il embrassa faiblement la peau à cet endroit avant de murmurer dans l’oreille du garçon.

« La prochaine fois, saute moi dessus et arrête d’autant réfléchir »

Cette fois, ce fut Logan qui remarqua des signes sur le corps du jeune homme. Des rougeurs, un sourire un peu retenu, des yeux brillants et une respiration accélérée. En clair, tout ce qu’il aimait voir chez quelqu’un qui lui plaisait.

« Le consentement c'est important alors, le garçon émit une pause, je peux te sauter dessus là maintenant ? »

Le sourire qui éclaira les lèvres du plus âgé fit pulser le cœur du plus jeune.

« Putain ouais »

° x-men masterlist

bannières par @/saradika-graphics

[snickerpuffs]

ISAT AU where their personalities are reversed and their roles are swapped around.

Mirabelle is a rouge who is vehemently against the Change religion for forcing people to constantly change just to satiate the whims of some lazy deity... but then was personally chosen and blessed by said deity to save the country of Vaugarde.

Odile is a brawler with a bombastic, performative flair-- like the fantasy version of a WWE pro wrestler. The persona isn't fully kayfabe, however. Her exploration of her half-Vaugardian heritage involved Changing into someone entirely unlike her old studious self. Even if she decides to return to her old lifestyle after this journey, she can't deny how fun it is to be this new Odile. She's shredded now!

Siffrin is a swordfighter that's embraced their missing history. He is the Everyman-- All the world is a stage, so why commit to one performance? They change personas and motivations at a whim, although for much of this journey they've played the role of the Reluctantly Redeemed Villain, lightly (and sometimes not so lightly) teasing and jeering their allies.

Isabeau is a researcher well-versed in craft. His backstory is literally the exact inverse of canon, starting as a boisterous fighter before Changing into a reserved academic. He's still struggling to confess his true feelings to Everyman (This "villain" shtick is aggravating and he wants to pummel them just as badly as he wants to kiss them why is Change so cruel to give him a crush on the most insufferable person he's ever met)

Boniface is roughly the same. They're just super old.

[wisemusiccheesecake]

HC: They should bring Dark Chaos back as an idea, because it's actually really cool.

Like, the Anarchy Beryls from Archie Sonic could be a great dark version of the Chaos Emeralds. And they have different levels of effectiveness depending on your mental state and purity.

Like for example Sonic, who has the moral complexity of a chair, is pretty much unaffected by the Anarchy Beryls because his mental state is so strong, and he's a pure-hearted person, hence he's completely fine, and any attempt to use the Beryls to transform yields no results.

Inversely, Tails' rampant insecurity means he's actually very susceptible to the Anarchy Beryls, meaning he can actually achieve a Dark form, which would become a twisted mirror of Tails, and what he hates about himself the most, meaning his Dark Form actually looks quite pathetic, however is very strong.

This can also apply to other members of the cast who Sega insist are never allowed to even look at the Chaos Emeralds due to not being a hedgehog. For example Rouge, who's Dark Form is an obvious take on Rouge's self-serving nature, as in her Dark Form she refuses to do anything that doesn't directly benefit her.

However these Dark Forms have a few pitfalls:

- Dark Chaos is far harder to utilize effectively than normal Chaos, requiring much training to use efficiently, unlike normal Chaos, which is fairly easy to use.

- Unlike with a Super Form, where when you de-transform you are at full fitness, when you de-transform from a Dark Form, you are left absolutely exhausted, nearly ready to pass out.

- Despite being more powerful then Super Forms, Dark Forms cannot be sustained for very long without risk of severe injury.

These are just some thoughts I had to implement something cool.

[la-femme-au-collier-vert]

Based on a comment on Twitter by @savage-garden-nights. Thought it was interesting that Interview with a Vampire functions as an inverse version of Romeo + Juliet, beginning with the death scene and ending with a masquerade ball. Also the way the kiss at the ball is obviously different with the way one is inspired by Bosch/Pride and Prejudice, however both are getting to the same thing- the light up elevator gives the same effect of not just otherworldliness but cue in the viewer that these characters are now almost literally in their own world with no one else present. Lurhman re-uses the same sort of shot in Moulin Rouge in the elephant.

Also been thinking a lot about these sorts of images. They’re different genres, but this idea of balconies, blood weddings, runaway brides, funerals, and balls in romance keep occurring in literature like this for a reason. IWTV the book even has a glass coffin. Are these tropes? Why do we see them repeat over again in new formulas? How is it possible to take these romantic elements and re-use them in a novel story configuration without over-referencing and outright plagiarism?

[kinopioa]

This is what I think regarding ShtH routes @beevean @crusherthedoctor

I see people get mad that Last Story can't be aligned with any route path, then say it's story is automatically bad cuz of that

But I think the bigger thing missed is the theme of the game: Choice

Last Story Shadow is doing his own thing mostly (guillibility really), regardless of player choice. Some events mirror what was seen in routes (Eggman gaslighting, Black Doom mem hack, Commander having hatred to Shadow), but I think rigidly defining it to be 1:1 to routes is wrong. Last Story is the TRUE canon story, not the other way around

Already in the routes you have places where you get each Emerald rapidly change in routes themselves. The only standard one is Westopolis for the green emerald in the beginning. Everything else varies

I think partially what fuels being unable to accept Last Story doing its own thing is gameplay forcing you to get 10 endings. The stress of that makes routes seem more canon than they are, despite the game being directly advertised as "mostly fun whatifs". Same with being unable to restart mid route, which forces further feelings that routes matter more than they do

I see people try to reconstruct the game so that routes matter more, and awkwardly it removes endings and levels. The whatif factor and being able to do a 180 in a route is ruined

Similarly you have people randomly think Rouge or others have all the answers when...no? The end of Heroes was literally her not knowing if Shadow was the OG or not, and no other char is aware of the Shadow Androids. Heck, this isn't confirmed in any route; it's a Last Story bonus if you wait

Personally if I were to remake the game;

-Have a disclaimer how Routes are mostly noncanonical, with some scenes mirroring what happens in canon with some differences in time and setting

-Have different interactions in scenes and missions depending on previous route. This seems to be planned if filename and event loading code is to be taken, though scrapped to neutral reactions in final, regardless of prior path

-Similarly, have missions vary counts to prove loyalty in later levels depending on prior path. If you did a lot of bad previous routes, you need to do more good to make up for it. Inversely, the mission is easier if you already are aligned with path. Lava Shelter interestingly checks this

-Have the ability to start a new route mid path of a finished one. Instead of replaying Westopolis 3 million times

-Have Last Story unlockable with simply 3 unique endings

-Have end of Last Story encourage playing more missions and whatif scenes. Heroes does this to encourage playing other teams. Shadow already does this for weapons

-Have the Devil Doom easter egg Eggman says easier to hear. So many fans missed it

-Correct some Localization duds. Surprisingly not many, despite cheesy dialogue, but the President thanking Gerald is wrong. Also explain how Tails' plane crashed randomly in the "you know what" scene

-Story wise I guess explain how the Chaotix got to space. It'd be interesting if Rouge is the reason, she surprisingly is barely in the game. Maybe tease how she was wrongly hostile in Heroes. To follow this...

-Note side char motivations better. Newcomers get a refresher for Shadow, but other characters are too sparse at times. Doesn't need to be detailed, or even voiced. The game uses static pics for SA2 flashbacks already. Heck, it can be unlockables for messing around in routes

-Have vehicles not play like shit. Gunplay funny enough is fine, though most physical weapons are too fragile

-Buff multiplayer. 3 stages ain't enough. A coop mode added also wouldn't be too bad (Sonic was scrapped after all...). Maybe configure weapon type and hitstun/invul time with settings

The game's very flawed, but I feel people missed the core point of it being a whatif fest

[beewithknee]

of fear and isolation

day 11 of redactober 2023 !

darlin/asher/david (unrequited love)

Darlin’ hung back. A ghost on the wall that always managed to disappear. Never heard, rarely seen. Overlooked.

They enjoyed it that way. Forming limited connections meant less heartbreak further down the road when they decided to leave. People always left.

Watching the two people you were hopelessly in love fawn all over the other made it a little less easy to not care. Apathy was something Darlin’ had spent their whole life in the company of.

Through their parents, their friends, Quinn. None of it had ever really mattered, just adding complexity to their grey life.

However watching David and Asher be David and Asher, now that created reds and blues. It caused dark greens and pale yellows. It wasn’t fair. Why had these two had such an affect on their life that no one had managed to before? Why the two mates who were so sickeningly in love, that it was apparent to everyone?

The Alpha and the Beta were every happy-ending given true form. They’d survived Gabe’s passing, Quinn, the inversion, and come out all the better for it.

Those events… they’d simply chipped further and further away at Darlin’s humanity. Left them scarred, broken, shattered. They would never recover from any of those moments in time. That was the simple truth of it all.

Milo had once begged them to tell his best friends about their secretly harboured feelings. That was met with a resounding no and a promise of violence if he ever told anyone.

So there they were, glued to the back wall like a parasite. They didn’t move, didn’t speak, as David gave his speech to his pack. All of whom were watching with great awe. David certainly wasn’t his father, but Darlin’ thought that might’ve just been a good thing. He bought so much more that Gabe (Bless his soul) had ever been able to.

After Liliana’s passing, Gabe had been broken. He’d attempted to keep the peace with his pack and himself, but Darlin’ saw. Kindred spirits and all that.

There was something familiar, even to their adolescent mind, in the way Gabe’s cracks seeped through into his everyday life. Maybe that’s why they’d felt such a close bond with the former Alpha.

Fiddling with their ring, they kept their gaze firmly on their mutilated hands while their ears remained tracked to every word that fell from between those sweet lips.

At one point they glanced up, feeling a gaze on them. Asher. Even from behind their sunglasses, they were positive he caught the way their eyes widened.

‘David’s speaking, why is he looking at me?’ They questioned silently, internally panicking at every out-of-place area on their body. 13. That’s how many they counted just with a quick mental scan.

Fuck.

‘Wait after. Please?’ Asher signed discreetly, nodding in their direction to confirm that he was speaking to them. Limbs paralysed and anxiety crippling their every survival instinct, they nodded and moved their unseeing gaze back to the Alpha.

In their peripheral, they watched as Asher kept looking at them for a few moments before turning back to his mate.

Sweat welled up along their hairline, a physical manifestation of their rapidly-increasing anxiety. Leaving now would draw too much suspicion, as well as alerting their friend Beta. The doors were far too loud to be moved without gathering unwanted attention.

They remained frozen, heart galloping in their chest for the duration of the pack meeting. Pack meeting. Honestly they weren’t even sure why they’d shown up; they certainly weren’t ‘pack’. Others had made that abundantly clear.

Oh god. A lightbulb flicked in their mind. David and Asher were kicking them out. They’d spotted Chrissy whispering to Ash not moments before the meeting began.

Fuck.

They were being kicked out. A loner. A rouge. Granted, majority of the time they felt like that anyway; but at least they still had the layer of being a Shaw on their back.

After this they’d be naked. Vulnerable. Totally alone.

Shit.

Noise finally penetrated their ears, seeping in around the buzzing. Clapping. The meeting had adjourned.

With the confirmation of their impending doom in their mind, Darlin’ did the one thing they knew their boys… their Alpha and Beta would hate the most.

They turned tail and ran.

[mariacallous]

Henry Kissinger, the former secretary of state and national security advisor who died on 29 November, lived out the latter part of his life among celebrities and hangers on, basking in a curious prestige that overshadowed his war crimes and the amoral support he proffered to fascist dictators. Indeed, until his final days Kissinger was able to command a large and sycophantic audience wherever he went - an audience that included influential journalists and scholars, former presidents and presidential candidates as well as various other powerful figures.

Proximity to power invariably exhibits its own gravitational pull. But much of the reverence afforded to ‘Dr’ Kissinger is a product of the Kissinger Myth, a carefully constructed tale of strategic genius said to have taken place while he was at the helm of one of the most powerful offices in America. The myth has been propagated by Kissinger himself and by countless others. The late historian Tony Judt summed the Myth up succinctly some fifteen years ago:

‘We found the world in a mess, [the Kissinger Myth] says: the cold war still frozen, the US trapped in a hopeless war in Southeast Asia, incoherent and contradictory American alliances and dealings with allies and enemies alike. In six short years we executed two truly radical departures: the opening to China and détente and arms agreements with the Soviet Union. We extricated the country from its Asian imbroglio, we propounded the “Nixon doctrine” whereby the US would support foreign allies without getting militarily embroiled in local conflicts, we set in place the basis for Middle Eastern dialogue, we established enduring personal and institutional relations with foreign statesmen, and we laid the groundwork for the great changes of the decades to come.’

Not all of this is without merit (as Judt notes). The opening of American diplomacy to China as well as arms control agreements with the Soviet Union may be seen as significant foreign policy achievements. But when setting those achievements against the carnival of violence that Kissinger unleashed on the world - indiscriminately raining bombs on civilian populations and pursuing policies whose bills would fall due in subsequent years - his record looks far less impressive. The illegal bombing of Cambodia was accurately described by William Bundy, foreign affairs advisor to presidents John F. Kennedy and Lyndon B. Johnson (and himself an architect of the Vietnam war), as‘a black page in the history of American foreign policy’. During the 3,600 B-52 bombing raids carried out in Cambodia over a four year period (and kept hidden from Congress) hundreds of thousands of civilians were killed. This ‘grand strategic thinking’ on the part of Kissinger - together with Nixon and Alexander Haig - created the conditions in which the genocidal Khmer Rouge would come to power. It’s hard to look at this sequence of events without concluding that Kissingerian realpolitik failed on its own terms.

Of course the biggest myth of all holds that Kissinger, by his strategic genius, brought about an end to the Vietnam war through the Paris settlement of 1973. This is an inversion of actual events. We now know that Nixon and Kissinger deliberately prolonged the war in order to trumpet their own peace deal - a deal they oversold to the American public and which subsequently unravelled soon after as South Vietnam fell to the Communists. Again, not exactly a resounding victory for grand strategic thinking.

The stated aim of such policies was (often enough) to prevent smaller nations from ‘going communist’. Nowhere did this policy bear as much rotten fruit as in Latin America. In the late 1970s human rights groups estimate that nearly 30,000 people were ‘disappeared’ by the American-backed junta of Jorge Videla in Argentina (in collaboration, predictably, with the hierarchy of the Catholic Church). Victims of the regime reported seeing swastikas and pictures of Hitler on the walls of their torture chambers. US Secretary of State Henry Kissinger granted $50,000,000 in security assistance to the junta. “If there are things that have to be done, you should do them quickly,” Kissinger told Argentina’s foreign minister. He would later inform the junta that it had done ‘an outstanding job in wiping out terrorist forces’.

Nearly a decade earlier Nixon and Kissinger had helped an equally revolting cabal of military officers to overthrow Chile’s democratically elected Socialist president Salvador Allende. Kissinger played a direct role in a plan that involved the kidnap and subsequent killing of Gen René Schneider, the conservative head of the Chilean armed forces who had pledged to stay loyal to the Chilean constitution. Following General Pinochet’s subsequence coup, 17 years of fascist rule would follow in which thousands of innocent people were murdered, tortured and imprisoned by the military dictatorship. Unsurprisingly the Chilean ambassador to the United States greeted Kissinger’s death with a show of contempt: Kissinger, he wrote on Twitter (X), was ‘a man whose historical brilliance never managed to hide his profound moral wretchedness’.

Support under Nixon and Kissinger for the Shah of Iran had a similarly baleful affect on America’s reputation in the Middle East, while America’s influence over India is coloured to this day by that administration’s support for the Pakistan dictator Yahya Khan in 1971 as the latter violently suppressed riots in East Pakistan (which would culminate in the region breaking away and becoming Bangladesh). Such support was proffered to Pakistan on the basis that the latter was on good terms with China whereas India (one of Asia’s few democracies) was neutral and not sufficiently hostile toward the Soviet Union (‘Why is it our business how they govern themselves?’ asked Kissinger of Pakistan). Not only were 3 million Bengalis killed by the Pakistani junta, but as with so many of Kissinger’s ventures, the enterprise failed on its own terms: the US backed the wrong side and subsequent American leaders were dealt a hand of reduced influence in the region.

One also does well to remember that peripheral nations do not always remain peripheral. Venture south of the Rio Grande today and a suspicion of North American motivations still emanates from the democratic parliaments whose existence Kissingerian diplomacy was often a bloody impediment to. One reason the United States is finding it hard to get countries such as Brazil and Chile to support Ukraine against Russia is due to a deep well of suspicion that has some of its origins in the Kissinger years. Anti-Americanism in the region did not start with Kissinger and Nixon, but like a pair of arsonists they doused the fire with enormous quantities of combustible fluid.

Big power politics - and the contempt for small states and ordinary people that flows from it - is not the preserve of the right. In recent times sections of the left have taken to viewing the world through the prism of ‘spheres of influence’ and big power blocs. When Russia invaded Ukraine in February 2022 both the reactionary right and the isolationist left rushed to giddily cite the ‘realist’ scholar John Mearsheimer. Russian aggression was the West’s fault for attempting to ‘move Ukraine out of Russia’s orbit’, as Mearsheimer had written. Whose ‘orbit’ the Ukrainians themselves wished to be in was considered immaterial. The beauty of realist theory is that such concerns - considered beneath the purview of the sweeping strategic calculus - may be loftily brushed aside.

While Kissinger gave American backing to dictatorships and death squads - in places including but not limited to Argentina, Chile, Paraguay, Bolivia, Uruguay and Brazil - he did so under the guise of eradicating ‘Communists’ and ‘terrorists’. Yet Kissinger was more than happy to cosy up to Mao Tse-tung and side with his hardline successors as they butchered thousands of students in Tiananmen Square (hosing their remains down nearby drains). ‘Since no government in the world would have tolerated having the main square of its capital occupied, a crackdown was therefore inevitable,’ wrote Kissinger, the mythical foe of dictatorial Communism. While Mikhail Gorbachev was opening up the Soviet Union to his ‘new thinking’, Kissinger steadfastly sides with Beijing’s unreconstructed Stalinists.

Kissinger effectively became a paid asset to China in later life. The increasingly toad-like Kissinger would show up regularly in Beijing, squatting next to some Stalinist gargoyle who’d taken the afternoon off from sending people to forced labour camps. This dynamic had been set in motion much earlier. The former assistant secretary of state Richard H. Solomon described Kissinger’s memoirs as ‘replete with almost awestruck recollections of the personal escorts, elaborate tours, and lavish banquets meticulously arranged by his Chinese hosts during his nine visits between 1971 and 1976’.

The fawning eulogies to Kissinger are I suspect a reflex action; some people can’t help but transform into a pool of sycophantic mush when they fall into the slipstream of a powerful individual. It is not a conscious or calculated thing so much as a product of a certain sensibility. The merest whiff of power and status and the cliches start to roll off the tongue in a great torrent. Here we have ascended the soaring peaks of what is sometimes called ‘civility’ politics.

I suppose this was inevitable. After all if you accept that Kissinger was a monster a lot of your other assumptions about the world will necessarily unravel. And so you cling faithfully to the shore, mechanically disgorging a few carefully road-tested pieties at the appropriate time. Kissinger meanwhile goes back to the dust from whence he came, the dust to which his victims long ago returned. In a just universe they would be there waiting for him, the little people contemptuously written out of history by the Historical Giant™. In our imperfect version it falls to the living to try to drown out the ingratiating wail of Henry Kissinger’s sycophantic hangers on. We owe that much to his victims at least.

[mihrsuri]

Do I have a thing for ‘villain is actually into both the hero and the heroes love interest and it is Horrible’ as a premise? Yes. I think I’m just like, what if a villain genuinely loves you and you don’t want it and it’s awful.

(I was discussing a Moulin Rouge AU with @boleynecklace about the Duke wanting both Christian and Satine. See also my belief that in terms of the Richard E Grant Scarlet Pimpernel Chauvelin wants both Blakeneys so much)

(It’s like the inverse to my love of OT3s! Although there is an OT3 at the end not involving the villain sometimes)

(Oh also the entirety of my Darkling/Alina/Nikolai stuff)

[thestalkerbunny]

"How did these dungeons get so big? They're called dungeons, does that imply they were originally castle keeps? why are there so many of them around here? Why was the rest of the castle ransacked thoroughly but the treasure all left? How do you guys eat? Do you just life hear?"

Random goblin: We will give your treasure if you shut the fuck up.

Okay but this allows me to corner you in my concepts of What a DUNGEON is-

A dungeon is a sort of perpetually expanding space and in itself is it's own type of BIOME. Consider.

Where are you going to store your extra magic items when you run out of room in the armory? Or ones that are broken and need repair? Or just don't WORK as good as they used to? The Guest Bathroom? No, IN THE BASEMENT/DUNGEON. With the Christmas Decorations.

Over time, magic seeps from these artifacts and imbues the surrounding closed off area (i.e. A basement/dungeon) with properties. Magic tends to attract creatures like Goblins. Goblins are the FIRST sign a dungeon is starting-they'll take up residence in a preestablished spot that is assured to be safe and they'll begin working on expanding it along with the magic that naturally expands it-so their families have room to grow as well as making rabbit warren like mazes to confuse intruders. Over time, the area grows bigger and bigger and more creatures begin to move in. Tentacle Beasts, Mimics, Displacers, etc. And then undead will start occuring as these predators begin to drag in dead bodies and leave the remains laying around. Then with outside elements now coming in like water, blood, miasma, etc.-Slimes begin to form. And Wowiee WOW! You got yourself a nice proper DUNGEON!

Some people take advantage of these places, like Liches, Irate Wizards pissed off with 'The MAN', rouge and mauraders looking to store their loot in an assured safe house or even Dragons seeking a place to put their fat asses for a hot minute. Sometimes a Dungeon being full of gold is just a result of Goblins collecting things and leaving what they don't want around. (Sure this Gold piece is worth more, but this COPPER PIECE is a 1459 MINT Queen Arthesiandra INVERSION so it's UPSIDE DOWN. Much much cooler.) or Liches/Wizards throwing their trash on the ground.

As The Dungeon becomes a Biome, it develops it's own flora to correspond with fauna; mostly mushrooms, plants that grow well in limited to no light, etc. etc. Lichen is a BIG part of dungeon dweller diets to the point of it being a part of agriculture. As well as unusually large blind insects that dwell down there (think Cave Crickets the size of CATS)

Dungeons are the most fascinating thing that could potentially exist because it can be ANYWHERE. Which is why Peasant NPC #98 is really concerned about the fact there are REALLY big rats in his Storage Cellar because that is possibly a DUNGEON IN PROGRESS cause he left his great Grandma's broken flying broom down there with the intent on fixing it one day.

[gayemeralds]

i want honey to be a rival and i want her to be the foil i wish rouge was to sonic. a shrewd businesswoman/fashion designer who’s only here for her image. she wants the chaos emeralds because it’ll look great in her newest spring collection. she’ll help save the world because it’s great pr and marketing. i want her to be an inverse to sonic in both selfishness/selflessness and in caring what other people think verses not caring at all.

[fabseg-creator]

A drawing for the upcoming chapter. I've drawn it today. That's an eventual illustration to be inserted.

Lycène Bleue "kissing" Cat Noir in front of Ladybug (who's becoming mad/jealous), Rouge Chance and Alley Cat.

[crusherthedoctor]

As an inversion of that last question, is there a character you consider "good" (but is underused/ignored for whatever reason)?

Marine is a good character, I don't care what anyone says. :P But she's only been given occasional breadcrumbs since SRA, and even those tend to portray her in an unflattering manner on purpose. She barely gets to hang out with Blaze despite being from the same world, and yet Silver is lumped in with Blaze all the time thanks to '06.

Hard-Boiled Heavies are still great of course, but they too haven't appeared in much post-Mania stuff outside of a shitty IDW spinoff.

And while Rouge and Omega aren't underused in the traditional sense, they are when it comes to doing things outside of Shadow's relation. This is why I'm glad to see Rouge being given more freedom as of late, even if Prime fumbled the ball compared to Dream Team.

And this is obviously too early to say since they were just introduced last year, but I really hope they don't ignore Trip and Ariem after their respective debuts. Trip has more of a chance to stick around due to being in a mainline game instead of an Apple Arcade one, but they're both really nice and it'd be a shame to waste them. If they're going to keep bringing out Sage to appease the Eggdad crowd, they might as well keep the actual good newcomers around.

[skull001]

So far what each version of Amy represents in Prime.

THORN ROSE: Amy's LOVE FOR NATURE, but taken to Princess Mononoke levels. She perceived the injustice of the scavengers taking more than what they really need and the damage they were foing to the environment. But because she was missing Amy's empathy, she chosed nature over people, and the power of the paradox prism's shard made her become even more extremist.

BLACK ROSE: while not much has been seen as that universe's main character is Knuckles the Dread, I still believe that Black represents Amy's LOVE FOR ADVENTURE However, this version also reminds me a lot of how Amy was like before she became a hero (she's nowhere as strong as Thorn nor Rusty). She was afraid of fighting and like the others, hid away when their ship was boarded by Dread's former crew. Then there is the part of her being the "accidental hero" (again, like Amy in some of the games) by encountering Rusty Rose, and I'm suspecting she will play a similar role as Amy in SA1, while Rusty will mirror Gamma's, but interestingly in an inverse manner: where in SA1 it is the robot who releases the captured girl from her cell, in Prime it's the enemy robot who is the prisioner who gets released by the girl, which if it does happen, will be a very delightful subversion.

RUSTY ROSE: The Chaos Council competent and ruthless enforcer and a force to be reckoned, capable of taking on other powerful characters like Rouge, Knuckles and even Sonic. The show's secondary villain who stands out the most amongst all ofvthe other alts of Sonic's friends. For the most part, she is loyal to the Council and enforces their will. But not everything is as it looks like, as Rusty not only is a tragic character shose free will hasvbeen suppressed, but also in order to stay alive and provide energy to her mechanical body, a flicky is used as an organic battery inside her chest.

So, what could this version of Amy who serves the forces of evil represent?

IMO, Rusty will be Amy's SELFLESSNESS. I can guess that Black Thorn will play a big part in helping Rusty break free from the Council's control, and near the end, will release the flicky inside her, sacrificing her life so that at least the bird can have a second chance to have it's life back.

If she does die... it's gonna hurt me a lot.

However, a theory on how she could be saved is by Sonic. When he runs, he generates energy, which the council wanted to exploit by having him run until he runs out of juice. Maybe him running while carrying Rusty in his arms will sustain her life, as I believe all versions of the characters must live so they can be fully restored. This would also allow a heart warming moment between Sonic and Rusty Rose, just as the shatterverse restores itself.