#psionic machine

[xxplastic-cubexx]

how would they even incorporate charles into marvel rivals /genq like would they only add krakoa or…???

my brother and i theorized they could give him his hover chair and then give him a gun and the rest is history

[kakushusband]

2. A canon or headcanon hill I will die on

3. Obscure headcanon

for Psimon?

Sure man let's have fun 💕 this will be heavily based on Psionics (Bruno/Psimon) bc the poor guy doesn't have much going on by himself. Also I'm mixing shit from YJ and TT2003 for the same reason :]

2. A canon or headcanon hill I will die on

He is transgender. You will accept this. Also he's got significant sequelae from having his brain fried - he needs a cane and his psychic powers are permanently impaired.

3. Obscure headcanon

I think any hc for him is obscure - there aren't many psimon lovers to share them with I'm afraid, at least not on Tumblr. Anyways, laughs at his own jokes often!

12. Crack headcanon

Cracking My brain trying to figure smth out. Well I think it'd be fun if he was, like, a good big brother figure. Iirc, he pairs up with Kyd Wykkyd in TT2003? Maybe? In my heart it's bc they get along fine. Like, this freak is much more normal about kids than many mothers out there. A fun scenario of mine is having Psimon and Bruno 'adopt' Terra instead of Slade so she's a petty thief and a pest instead of a man made horror, just bc it'd be funny.

13. Dumbest thing they’ve ever done

Use telepathy to expose Artemis instead of speaking normally LOL I get why that'd happen plot wise but it's like. Ok your catatonia sequel man not mine (I could explain it away by saying telepathy is less taxing than speaking, but since the show didn't I Won't do that)

44. Their happiest memory

[sloppy lizard kissing sfx] No but seriously it was probably when it clicked in his head that he trusted Bruno, wholeheartedly - he didn't have to watch his back or be prepared for backstabbing all the time anymore. Being loved and cared for does feel good, doesn't it?

50. A memory they’ve blocked out

Most of the second confrontation with M'gann for sure. He knows she was there and that he messed with her but he cannot remember what they talked about and why she attacked him, and he would rather Not remember what it felt like either so he's fine with that.

sorry for the delay! tumblr mobile doesnt let me edit asks for whatever reason now. go figure.

[titanclashbattleofthegods]

[volatilesubstances]

Baldur's Gate 3 Companions Ranked By Physical Strength (not STR)

I see so many people who consider any character with 8 or 10 STR stars to be physically weak and it annoys me because actually STR is only a specific part of what we call 'physical strength,' which also includes parts of DEX and CON (which are also not encompassing of dexterity and constitution) by definition. So, under the cut is a ranking of, in my opinion based on stats, context clues and character traits, the BG3 companions based on their overall physical strength. For arguments sake I am only considering the characters in their 'good' path, so no God Gale, Vampire Ascendent Astarion, etc. I am also considering how much they were likely nerfed by the tadpole. Possible spoilers ahead!!

1. Strongest - Lae'zel

This shouldn't be that shocking, githyanki are as a species built for combat and she has spent her entire life training to be a soldier.

Additionally, not only is she consistently swinging heavy weapons around, as a battle master, she is doing so with a level of precision that requires extra strength in order to manipulate the weapon she is using (fun fact, this is by definition attributed to dexterity rather than raw strength, despite being attributed to the STR stat ingame).

She also has the second highest movement speed of any of the companions, and the largest jump range, especially when considering the psionic jump, though this could be considered more magic than physical strength.

All of this she does while also wearing medium armour.

2. Karlach

Also not shocking, given she is a former soldier of an actual archdevil and built like that.

She's literally part machine, though the instability of her engine can be conditionally considered a limiting factor in her strength as much as a booster.

Only character proficient with war hammers, the heaviest weapon type in the game.

Best endurance (closest trait definition to CON stat, 'constitution' is not really a measurement of any given trait so much as the complete makeup of a person's physical form) of any companion, though in terms of physical strength one could argue this is offset by her not wearing armour.

Additionally, arguably the CON stat can be considered a mixture of physical and mental fortitude, so it is debatable whether this can be entirely attributed to physical strength.

3. Minsc

His STR stat does not match his actual strength at all.

For a start he is a former berserker, which has easily the most raw strength of any class or subclass across the board.

His introduction in this game is literally him prying the jaws of a mimic, which have a STR stat of 17 and CON of 15, open from the inside.

Ranger proficiencies don't cover any particular heavy weapons, but they do include both medium armour and shields. Minsc doesn't have either in his starting gear, but nonetheless has the ability to use them.

Also, just look at him. Man is bricked.

4. Astarion

Controversial given the 8 in STR, but realistically Astarion has to be pretty damn strong by nature, just in a different way to the others near the top of this list.

The skillset of a rogue can be compared to the physicality of acrobatics, gymnastics, calisthenics, etc. and let me tell you, that shit requires an insane amount of strength.

He was also likely the most nerfed of any of the companions in terms of physical attributes by the tadpole. All of the other spawn, and also vampire spawn according to 5e, have 16s in STR, DEX, and CON. Without the tadpole, and considering his 17 in DEX, it could well be that he was the strongest of the spawn to boot.

Additionally, it is mentioned a couple times ingame (and in 5e) that spawn can become full vampires by killing their master. Obviously this doesn't happen ingame, most likely just because it would cause balance issues, but as far as I know in the epilogue he is not explicitly referred to as a spawn, so it could be argued that the tadpole may have just supressed this evolution and therefore doesn't happen until the postgame. If this were the case, the baseline for his physical strength stats would be 18 in STR, DEX and CON, though as vampires are inherently magical and these stats are considered supernatural even in-universe, it is debateable how much these stats could attributed to actual physical strength.

5. Halsin

Halsin has one of the wildest changes in stats between NPC and companion, with his STR stat going from 20 in the Shattered Sanctum, to 16 after escaping, and then all the way down to 10 as a companion. Again, it's a balancing thing for gameplay, and because the stats otherwise would have been impractical for a druid, but cutting it by literally half is actually insane.

Again, I am treating his NPC stats as his 'canon' stats, given that a good amount of his character is that he is unnaturally large and strong (and hairy, though that's not really relevant) for an elf, to the point that a good portion of people actually headcanon that he is a bear that can turn into an elf and not vice versa.

Having said this, his dexterity isn't amazing and outside of wildshape, which I am again not considering as it is magic, his physical combat is mediocre without magic.

Interestingly, he at some point won an arm wrestle against Minsc, who I have put higher, though Minsc considered it to be cheating as he turned into a bear. As I see it, he wouldn't have turned into a bear to win unless he was either losing, or they were evenly matched enough that he was putting so much effort in he lost control. Either way, from this I would consider Halsin to be on par at most with Minsc, and this is also only one area of strength.

6. Jaheira

Jaheira's companion stats are nerfed from her NPC stats due to balancing, but interestingly this also changes her main stat. To me, her NPC stats are her 'canon' stats, but I do this the companion stats can also provide some insight into her overall constitution.

As a companion, Jaheira's main stat is a 17 in WIS, but as an NPC it is a 17 in CON, followed by a 16 in WIS. This backs up what I mentioned earlier about CON being partially mental fortitude as well as physical endurance.

Another weird change, as a companion Jaheria has a 10 in STR and a 14 in DEX, yet as an NPC her stats are again reversed in magnitude, with 15 STR and 14 DEX. There isn't really much to say about the order of these, but the high values in these stats just highlights that outside her generic druid build as a companion, Jaheira his very much a formidable warrior.

Having said this, as High Harper her job it likely 90% admin, diplomacy and telling people what to do rather than actual fighting and missions, with the exception of big stuff like the Cult of the Absolute.

Additionally, though in 5e there is some debate about half-elf lifespans, in the Baldur's Gate universe at least she is very much in the final decades of her life, and by her own admission past her prime. Even being the strong soldier that she is, at that age I can't imagine her stamina being quite as good as it may have been.

7. Minthara

Another NPC that gets nerfed when they become a companion, though the changes here are significantly less to write home about.

She's decently strong in all three relevant stats, though none of them are her main focus. DEX and CON both have their high values sacrificed when she becomes a companion.

She's also the only companion that has proficiency in heavy armour by default.

Having said this, she's not particularly heavily built, her background is in nobility rather than any sort of combat or athleticism, and a good portion of Paladins' power comes from their attacks being enhanced by spells rather than raw strength.

8. Shadowheart

We're getting to the companions that there really isn't much to talk about for.

She has decent relevant stats, as well as proficiency in both medium armour and shields, in addition to maces and morningstars, which are usually some of the heaviest one-handed weapons.

As a trickery domain cleric of Shar, she has trained in combat to a degree, and is by no means weak.

Having said that, she is small and lean and, most importantly, not a class that particularly has a need for a large amount of physical strength in pretty much any capacity.

9. Wyll

Wyll is the only character whose NPC stats are actually worse than his companion stats. Seriously, if this guy is supposed to be a hero and monster hunter already at the start of the game, why is he so weak?? That might be a bit harsh, he was probably also nerfed by the tadpole. Probably.

During the time of the game, pretty much the only thing going in his favour in terms of physical strength is his proficiency in shields, as his weapons of choice outside of spellcasting are also all lightweight weapons that, though obviously do have an element of strength to them, are generally more about skill and precision. Don't get me wrong, he is a skilled fighter, but strong he is not.

As the Blade of Avernus, if his pact is broken he is impied to become a ranger post-game, and archery, especially good archery, takes a good amount of strength, so he must have at least decent strength by the end of the game, even if his stats don't really change.

10. Weakest - Gale

The wizard? Squishy? Shocker.

Unlike Wyll and Astarion, I think his 8 in STR is more than justified, given he's a spellcaster with limited proficiencies and doesn't wear armour. He also has terrible movement speed, and has no physical endurance to speak of.

In terms of weapons, he is pretty much entirely limited to quarterstaves, which admittedly be quite heavy. Anyone can throw a big stick around, but to do so accurately... yeah, he can't really do that either.

I like to think the only reason he's physically built the way he is, is because of unhealthy weight loss caused by the orb, rather than any sort of actual muscle mass.

[magnagaruzenmon]

Action II

Well I got him to write more Chowon.

The polished doors to the psychic training lab eased open again, and Chowon stepped out with a light bounce in her stride, eyes bright and cheeks flushed with confidence. Adachi trailed behind her, hoodie sleeves pushed up, hands tucked in his pockets, his expression unreadable but calm — the kind of stillness that had settled over him more and more lately, like deep water after a storm.

Her arm hooked through his with an almost lazy ease, the two of them walking in rhythm, warmth radiating between them in a subtle, silent current.

From the far hall, Magnolia rounded the corner and spotted them. She gave them both a casual nod, but her gaze lingered a bit longer on Chowon — a mix of affection and knowing in her half-smile — before watching them disappear around the bend.

As soon as they were out of sight, a voice sighed, crisp and exasperated.

“While I don’t particularly enjoy the current Adachi… I’ll admit, that man has one hell of a psionic stabilizer field. Telepathy feels like meditating in a heated spring when he’s in the room.”

Magnolia blinked, turning toward the familiar voice. “Is that why it felt like a spa in here? And wait — current Adachi? I thought that was his name.”

Emma Frost stood already waiting just inside the training lab, pristine as ever in her white ensemble, her platinum hair smooth and sharp as her tone. A single perfectly arched brow lifted.

“You’re late.”

“I’m five seconds early.”

“Which is five seconds less you could be spending learning how to make machines beg for mercy,” Emma countered, waving her in with a gloved flick of the hand.

Magnolia groaned as she stepped forward. “I was waiting for the lovebirds to fly off. PDA’s a psychic hazard, you know.”

Emma rolled her eyes in practiced annoyance. “I can see you’ve been spending too much time with Karina. Not that I care who you court — just don’t let your priorities get muddled. You’re one of the strongest technopaths we’ve seen in years, and your training will begin to reflect that so we can Keep it that way.”

Magnolia smirked. “Noted, Frost.”

The training room hummed with quiet energy — glowing screens and hard-light constructs hovered like obedient spirits, waiting to be shaped by willpower and code. Psychic insulation dulled the edges of thought, a quiet sanctuary against the rush of stray minds.

Emma gestured toward a neural-interface chair. “Sit. We’re starting with mental scaffolding for adaptive tech manipulation.”

Magnolia settled in smoothly, eyes already scanning the floating nodes. “But first—” she grinned. “Spill. What did you mean by current Adachi?”

Emma’s hands swept through the interface beside her, forming a visual projection of a neural web. Her voice dropped just a fraction, enough to mark the shift.

“His real name is Atticus.”

Magnolia blinked. “Wait. Seriously?”

Emma nodded once, gaze flicking briefly toward the door they’d exited through. “Atticus Robinson Jr. When he first arrived here… he was quiet. Gentle. Reserved, but not out of shyness — out of care. He was terrified of hurting someone. His psionic signature was already powerful, even before full mutation. He moved through rooms like a ghost — always asking if it was okay to speak, if he was taking up too much space.”

She plucked a strand of digital energy from the console and offered it. Magnolia took it and, almost without thinking, shaped it into a silver lily.

Emma’s eyes flicked to the construct. Approval flashed across her face for just a heartbeat.

“He once spent three days psychically coaxing a plant to bloom so he could give it to Jean for her birthday. Said it was the only thing he could grow without breaking it.”

Magnolia let out a soft, surprised laugh. “He really was a sweetheart, huh?”

Emma’s voice softened in turn, the steel beneath it still present but tempered. “He was. A deeply wounded, brilliant sweetheart. We all saw it — the softest soul wrapped in one of the most volatile psionic fields I’ve ever encountered.”

Then, her eyes sharpened, voice dropping like a weight. “And then Apocalypse and Sinister took him.”

The lights dimmed slightly, flickering along the edge of the consoles. Emma quelled it with a blink of thought, but her posture stilled — cold, composed.

“He was gone for weeks. When we got him back, his X-gene had been forcibly ruptured — mutated beyond what even Cerebro could trace in the moment. They were trying to forge him into one of the Horsemen. We still don’t know which aspect he was meant to embody.”

Magnolia’s brows furrowed. “But he fought it off?”

“With everything he had,” Emma said quietly. “But it cost him. Something in him changed. His powers changed. His mind… sealed itself off. Before, he was like a meadow — open, nourishing, amplifying the gifts of those around him. Telepaths, telekinetics, even energy types like Cyclops or Armor — their control improved just by being near him.”

She paused. “Now? His mind is a labyrinth. Twisting, armored, nearly impenetrable. He doesn’t just amplify anymore — he shields. And guards. It’s like speaking to someone through mirrors wrapped in fog.”

Magnolia stared at her interface, the silver lily dissolving back into raw data. “So what changed today?”

Emma’s voice lost some of its usual icy precision. “Today, in that lab, for just a flicker of a moment… I saw Atticus again. Not the storm. Not the weapon. Just the kid who once apologized to the Danger Room after punching through a reinforced wall.”

Magnolia gave a slow, half-shaken breath. “Damn.”

Emma met her gaze, no pity in her eyes — only quiet clarity. “Some traumas don’t just leave marks. They forge masks. But those masks aren’t fixed forever. And sometimes, love — or peace, or just presence — can loosen them.”

Then, without missing a beat, she gestured toward the node interface. “Now. Mold that code cluster into a lockpick algorithm. No hands. Just mind. You’re not here to psychoanalyze your teammates — you’re here to become the architect of machines.”

Magnolia’s lips tugged upward in a faint smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

But even as her mind flexed and the circuits obeyed, she couldn’t shake the thought of the boy who gave flowers to telepaths… and the soft horns hiding beneath the weapon.

After her session with Emma Magnolia was exhausted

The psychic lab doors slid open with a faint hiss as Magnolia stepped out, shaking residual sparks of code from her fingers. Her mind hummed — half from the workout Emma had just put her through, half from everything she’d just learned. About Atticus. About Adachi. About the space between them.

She took a slow breath and leaned against the cool wall of the corridor, letting the quiet settle before she made her way back to the dorms.

Voices echoed softly from around the corner.

Curious, Magnolia moved carefully down the hall, her steps soundless. The voices grew clearer — low and familiar.

Magik.

And Rogue.

They hadn’t noticed her — or if they had, they didn’t care.

“I’m telling you,” Magik said, voice laced with something between concern and fascination, “it wasn’t just a soul weapon. I’ve seen what Limbo makes — but those runes… they weren’t from there.”

Rogue crossed her arms. “Then where the hell were they from? Some other infernal plane?”

Magik shook her head, her blonde hair gleaming silver in the soft corridor light. “No. Not Hell. Not even one of the Nine Realms. Something older. Something deeper.”

There was a pause. Magnolia ducked behind a column, holding her breath.

“The moment Adachi pulled that weapon into being,” Magik continued, “I felt something stir in the ground. The kind of thing that doesn’t belong to just our magic. It wasn’t demonic. It wasn’t celestial. It was… directional. Like it pointed somewhere.”

Rogue frowned. “That ain’t exactly comforting.”

Magik reached into her coat and pulled out a sketch — rough, but unmistakable. The etching of the revolver Adachi had summoned, glowing with spiraled runes along the barrel and frame.

“I tried to trace the markings,” she said, voice lower now, almost reverent. “And I managed to translate one phrase. Just one.”

She looked Rogue in the eyes.

“‘Your path to the sun begins here.’”

Silence settled like fog.

Rogue let out a slow breath. “You think it’s a prophecy?”

“I think it’s a warning,” Magik said flatly. “Or maybe an invitation. Either way… something’s waking up in him. And it isn’t just mutant evolution. His soul is moving toward something — some kind of ascension, maybe.”

She folded the sketch and tucked it back into her coat.

“And if we’re not careful,” she added, almost to herself, ���we won’t just be dealing with Adachi the mutant. We’ll be dealing with whatever’s watching him from the other side of that gun.”

Magnolia’s heart thudded once, hard.

She stepped away from the wall quietly, her breath slower now, her mind turning over the phrase again.

Your path to the sun begins here.

She wasn’t sure what it meant yet — for Adachi, for any of them — but she knew enough to recognize a turning point.

And something deep in her gut told her they were closer to it than anyone realized.

The sun dipped low over the treetops, casting warm gold across the quiet rooftop garden. The wind was soft, carrying the scent of mint and lavender from the planter boxes that lined the railing. Magnolia sat cross-legged on the wooden bench, staring out at the sprawling grounds below, the evening shadows slowly stretching.

Karina sat beside her, her jacket folded neatly over her lap, her fingers lightly braiding a lock of her own hair. They didn’t speak at first — didn’t need to. The kind of silence that settles between people who’ve fought through things and come out changed.

Finally, Magnolia broke it, voice hushed.

“Karina… how’d you meet Adachi?”

Karina blinked, the question clearly pulling her somewhere else. Somewhere older.

“It was right in the middle of the Sinister-Apocalypse War,” she said softly. “Me and Winter… we were just kids, barely older than students now. We’d just arrived at the X-Mansion — refugees, really. We were being evaluated for potential enrollment.”

Magnolia turned to look at her, surprised. “You weren’t students yet?”

Karina shook her head. “No. We were… being watched. Me for my powers, Winter for her combat instincts. But neither of us knew anyone. We were just scared, overwhelmed.”

She smiled faintly, the memory blooming behind her eyes.

“And then there was him. Adachi — though, back then, he went by Atticus. He found us sitting outside the rec wing, both of us completely lost. He didn’t say much. Just offered us snacks and asked if we liked fighting games.”

Magnolia raised an eyebrow. “That sounds very… him.”

Karina gave a dry chuckle. “He whooped us both, then apologized like five times. Said he liked that we reminded him of his little sister.”

Magnolia tilted her head. “He has a sister?”

“Yeah but he doesn’t really see her anymore ,” Karina said gently. “He’s very stif with his family.”

Magnolia fell silent.

Karina continued, more serious now. “When Apocalypse and Sinister came to the school… it was chaos. They stormed the gates. The alarms, the wards — everything fell apart. And Atticus… he told us to hide. Said nothing else. And then he stood in front of the library and fought back alone while everyone scrambled to respond.”

A beat passed. Magnolia could feel the weight behind the words.

“He held them off. For minutes that felt like hours. And I remember… Apocalypse looked interested. Not angry, not bored — interested. Like he could feel something from Adachi that he wanted.”

Magnolia murmured, “His power.”

Karina nodded. “More than that. I think it was how he felt. Being near Adachi back then… it was like being under a protective umbrella. Calming, solid. Apocalypse wasn’t just drawn to his strength — it was the way Adachi anchored everything around him.”

She looked away, hands folding over her lap.

“And then he was gone. Just like that. Taken.”

The wind stirred again, brushing strands of Karina’s hair across her cheek. Magnolia didn’t speak, letting the silence sit for a long moment.

“You miss the old him?” she finally asked.

Karina shook her head.

“We all do. Leon, Momo, me, Winter. We all miss Atticus. I see the old him. In flashes. In how he looks at Chowon. In the way he holds himself when he thinks no one’s watching. He’s different now — harder, heavier. But he’s still fighting. Still protecting.”

She looked at Magnolia, gaze steady.

“It’s Just… now he’s someone no something. And we need to be ready — whether it saves him or burns him from the inside out.”

Magnolia nodded slowly.

“I think whatever he’s becoming… it started long before Mr Sinister stole him.”

“Yeah,” Karina murmured. “Long before.”

They sat together until the sun vanished behind the trees, quiet again, letting the dark come in its own time.

The apartment was quiet, bathed in the soft gold of lamplight and the gentle hum of the ceiling fan above. The day had been long — training, meetings, strange runes still burning faintly in memory. But now, everything was slow and still.

Chowon was curled up beside Adachi on their couch, her legs draped over his lap as her head rested lazily against his shoulder. A bowl of half-eaten popcorn sat forgotten on the coffee table, some old K-drama murmuring in the background.

She tilted her face up toward him, her smile mischievous.

“Summon it.”

Adachi blinked, a little bleary from the peace of the moment. “Summon what?”

She gave his chest a gentle poke. “Your soul weapon. I want to see them again.”

He gave her a long-suffering sigh, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “You mean my horns. You don’t care about the weapon.”

“Guilty,” she said brightly. “They’re cute. And weirdly soft. Like velvet armor. I like them.”

With a small smirk, he leaned back against the couch cushions, drawing in a breath. The lights in the room dimmed slightly as pastel psionic energy shimmered faintly around him. There was no dramatic flare — not in their home, not for this — but the shift was immediate.

The revolver-like soul weapon flickered into his hand, glowing faintly with strange runes. And with it, as always, came the horns — beautiful and curved, obsidian-black with lavender and pastel-blue coloration pulsing from the tips, curling gently from his temples.

Chowon’s eyes lit up.

“There they are,” she whispered with delight, reaching up with both hands.

Adachi tensed slightly as her fingers traced along one horn — and then another — and he shivered.

“Sensitive?” she teased, voice warm and sweet.

“It’s Like they’re wired into my nervous system now. I can feel you touching them,” he muttered, breath hitching slightly as her touch lingered. “It’s like… pressure and light and warmth all at once. I feel them more than I should.”

Her touch softened, fingertips barely brushing over the smooth surface. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” he said, voice low, eyes fluttering shut. “It’s… intense. But not in a bad way.”

She leaned in closer, gently running her fingers along the base where the horn met his temple. A sharp breath escaped him, and his hand clenched around the soul weapon before he let it fade into light, the horns still pulsing with psionic glow.

“It’s like they’re becoming more real every time,” he murmured. “Not just part of Limbo — part of me.”

Chowon pressed a soft kiss just beneath one of the glowing stripes that had reappeared along his cheek. “They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

Adachi opened his eyes slowly, looking at her like she was the only thing tethering him to this world.

“You’re not afraid?” he asked, voice quieter now. “That I’m changing?”

Chowon brushed his bangs back and smiled at him, tender and fierce all at once. “I’ve seen every version of you — scared, angry, calm, wild. This? This is just another piece I get to love.”

He pulled her into his arms, holding her tight, his forehead resting against hers, horns curling just past her brow. For the first time in days, he felt like he wasn’t being pulled in a thousand directions — just here, with her, on a couch that smelled like their shared life, grounded in something real.

And as her fingers returned to tracing those velvet-soft horns, he swore he felt them pulse — like they knew they were safe. Curled together on the couch, Chowon nestled closer as the melody of Adachi’s memories bled gently into her mind — not invasive, just present. Familiar warmth, sweet fragments of music that fluttered through her subconscious like wind chimes on a summer porch. He was calm here. Safe. Her fingers brushed idly along his horns again and again, tracing their velvet ridges like a cherished pattern, grounding him — and maybe herself too.

Then his phone buzzed, and the spell shattered.

Adachi answered without moving, his voice low. “Yeah?”

Leon’s voice came through, tight and shaken:

“Dude. You gotta get here now.”

Adachi didn’t speak. He stood, every movement precise, as if his body had made the decision before his brain could catch up. His soul revolver shimmered to life in one hand while his free one reached for his uniform — blues and golds, pulled on with swift, surgical calm.

Chowon scrambled up after him. “Wait—what’s going on?”

But he was already slipping into his jacket, eyes unreadable. “I don’t know. But Leon’s scared.”

She didn’t argue. She suited up in silence, her breath quick and shallow, and watched as Adachi raised his glowing revolver and fired a single shot into space — splitting the air into a shimmering portal.

“…Didn’t know if that would work,” he murmured.

He stepped through without hesitation.

Chowon followed a heartbeat later.

The moment Adachi crossed back into mansion territory, something shifted. The ground didn’t tremble, but it felt like it should have. The air thickened — slow, deliberate, too quiet. The kind of silence that made the birds stop singing. The kind of silence before something ancient woke up.

Leon stood near the entry, pale and stiff as a shadow. He felt it before he saw it — a psychic rumble like distant thunder and velvet chains dragging through the back of his mind. Something primal. Something wrong.

He turned.

Adachi and Chowon emerged from the portal behind him, cloaked in rippling light. The edges of Adachi’s body shimmered faintly, like heat rising off scorched metal.

“That was… frighteningly fast,” Leon said, voice cracking as his eyes adjusted to the pressure Adachi exuded.

“You called,” Adachi replied, quiet and cold. “I answered. What’s going on?”

Leon could barely form the words. He just pointed to the courtyard window.

Shaw. Sinister. And… Apocalypse.

Adachi didn’t hesitate.

The second he laid eyes on them, his aura detonated in absolute silence. Not a roar, not a scream — just a sudden vacuum of energy, as if all color and sound had been sucked inward toward him.

He raised the soul revolver and whispered,

“Vile Rampage.”

The gun roared.

Hundreds of beams of pale rainbow light burst from the muzzle in elegant, devastating arcs — an aurora of annihilation. Shaw and Sinister had no chance. The blasts struck them squarely in the chest, cratering the ground beneath them and knocking them backwards like rag dolls.

Apocalypse dodged — barely.

But it didn’t matter.

Adachi was already behind him.

The shift was so fast Leon’s mind stuttered. One second Apocalypse stood poised to counterattack. The next, Adachi’s arms were around him, crushing. His horns had fully manifested now — glowing, arched, streaked in aggressive baby blue and violent lavender — and he slammed his forehead into Apocalypse’s chest with a thunderous, psionically-augmented blow that cracked armor.

Apocalypse reeled back — only to be hurled 15 feet into the air as Adachi’s psionic aura flared into an eruption of spiraling, unfamiliar colors. The revolver in his hand shifted, elongating and thickening into a gleaming lever-action rifle — runes along the barrel writhing like living script.

Leon stood frozen. Something was wrong.

The psionic pressure became unbearable. Adachi raised the rifle, but before he could fire—

He froze.

Not by choice.

Across the courtyard, Jean Grey, Rachel Summers, Emma Frost, and two other Omega-level telepaths had locked onto him. Their psychic force hit him like an avalanche — and still, he resisted.

Leon could see it.

Blood vessels burst along Adachi’s arms. His eyes glowed like overcharged reactor cores. His teeth gritted as the ground split beneath his feet, energy writhing around him like a technicolor storm.

“Damn it!” Adachi roared, voice cracking with fury.

“Please—just let me have this!”

But the telepaths held firm.

And finally, with a sound like collapsing stone, Adachi dropped to his knees. The rifle vanished. His horns flickered out. And the psionic weight evaporated — leaving behind only cold sweat and silence.

The grass around him had turned gray — bleached of life by the sheer pressure of his fury. A crater had formed in the courtyard. And everyone present stood slack-jawed, shaken by the quiet of it all.

Leon took a step back, his voice a whisper.

“…What the hell was that?”

The battlefield was quiet now, except for the low crackle of displaced energy and the heavy breaths of those still standing. The grass beneath Adachi’s collapsed body was scorched and faded, drained of all vibrance. Even the light felt off — like the sun didn’t quite want to shine here anymore.

Two figures pushed through the stunned crowd.

Wolverine knelt without a word and hoisted Adachi’s upper body over one shoulder with practiced ease. Beast came in from the other side, securing his legs. The two men exchanged a grim glance.

“He’s burnin’ up,” Logan muttered, sniffing the air. “But it ain’t fever — it’s somethin’ else.”

Beast adjusted his grip, the fur on his arms bristling. “His vitals are erratic. His brain activity’s through the roof — psionic overload, possible physiological transmutation. We need to stabilize him now.”

Chowon stepped forward, eyes wide, panic barely held back. “I’m coming with you.”

“Chowon—” Emma began.

“No,” she said, sharper than usual. “I’m not leaving him alone. Not like this.”

Logan paused, then gave a short nod. “Fine. Stay outta the way..”

With a ripple of golden energy, they vanished through the teleport pad toward the Med Bay.

The silence that followed was oppressive. Wind stirred the trees. Somewhere in the distance, a bird gave a startled cry and then fell silent again.

Leon stood at the edge of the scorched patch of earth, arms folded tightly over his chest. “…He wasn’t just trying to hurt them. He was trying to erase them.”

Jean placed a steadying hand on her temple, still recovering from the psionic strain. “He almost broke through a full telepathic and telekinetic lockdown. He should’ve collapsed the moment we touched his mind, and yet…”

Emma, arms crossed, heels clicking lightly as she paced, added, “The runes on the rifle weren’t from any realm I’m familiar with — not Limbo, not Avalon, not the Astral Plane. They were pulling on something deeper. Something older. A sun buried in the dark.”

Rogue shook her head. “Ah ain’t never seen him like that. Not even when he came back from the war with Sinister and Apocalypse.”

Magik, leaning on her soulsword, eyes narrowed to slits. “He was a conduit. For something else. Something that wants to fight.”

Jean nodded, voice quiet. “And something that’s waking up inside him.”

A beat.

Then Leon spoke, voice cracking slightly. “Why didn’t the rest of us feel it sooner?”

Emma turned to him. “Because it’s not just his mutation anymore.”

“Then what is it?” Leon asked.

Emma’s eyes flicked toward the Med Bay building, where Adachi had been taken.

“…A soul weapon like his doesn’t just manifest from willpower or training,” she said. “It comes from purpose. It’s chosen. And the runes on that weapon? I caught a fragment when the rifle expanded.” Magik explained

Rogue glanced at her. “What did it say?”

Emma looked at the others. Then, with a strange, quiet dread, she spoke.

“Your path to the sun begins here.”

Everyone was silent again.

Magik glanced toward the horizon, a muscle twitching in her jaw.

“That ain’t a prophecy,” she murmured. “That’s a warning.”

The energy had barely settled, the last arcs of Adachi’s psionic assault still sizzling against the edges of cracked stone and bent metal.

Sebastian Shaw groaned from where he’d been thrown, one arm bent at an unnatural angle, spitting blood onto the grass as he tried — and failed — to rise with dignity.

Sinister coughed, smoke trailing from his ruptured chestplate, his body regenerating in twitching, uneven pulses. “That—wasn’t—typical,” he choked out. “That wasn’t just mutant power. That was ritualized rage.”

Apocalypse stood amidst the wreckage, largely untouched, save for scorch marks trailing across his armor. A long split had formed down the center of his chestplate where Adachi had driven him back with pure psionic force.

He brushed dust from his shoulder, lips curled into a smirk.

The ancient mutant said nothing — not at first.

Only after several heartbeats did he look skyward briefly, as though searching for the echo of something… distant. Watching.

Then he turned.

Emma, Jean, and Rogue walked in tense silence, leading the path toward the council chamber where Magneto and Charles were waiting. Their pace was clipped, each woman with her own version of poise — Jean focused, Emma stone-faced, Rogue burning with quiet nerves.

Behind them, footsteps like distant thunder marked the approach of Apocalypse.

“You didn’t need to come,” Emma said without turning.

“I did,” Apocalypse replied simply. “A treaty should be sealed in the presence of those who remember the cost of war.”

Jean slowed slightly, glancing over her shoulder. “We weren’t expecting retaliation. This wasn’t supposed to be—”

“—An ambush?” Apocalypse finished for her, his tone calm. “It wasn’t.”

Emma turned, halting them just short of the chamber doors. “Then what would you call it?”

Apocalypse stepped forward, his gaze never wavering, his voice as steady as the earth. “An inevitable collision. You do not raise a blade and expect it not to gleam in the sun.”

Rogue folded her arms. “You’re talkin’ about Adachi.”

Apocalypse’s eyes flickered — not with anger, but with interest. With remembrance. With calculation.

“I chose him for a reason,” he said, as if it were a secret they’d all forgotten. “Among the students, his psionic field was already woven with something older than mutation. He walks with power not entirely his own — and yet completely of him.”

Jean frowned. “That doesn’t explain the runes. The soul weapon. The shift in color, time, light…”

“No,” Apocalypse agreed. “It doesn’t. Because it is no longer my place to explain it.”

Emma’s voice dropped low. “Then whose place is it?”

Apocalypse finally turned to her, the barest hint of approval in his tone. “Perhaps the entity that etched those runes into his weapon. Or the one that granted him horns not born of Limbo. Or the force that stirred when he stood between us today.”

They stared at him in still silence.

He looked ahead once more, the doors to the chamber looming large.

Emma, Jean, and Rogue stood still beneath the heavy lights, the corridor thick with tension. Just before the council chamber doors, Apocalypse paused beside them.

“You need not apologize for your restraint,” he said, almost gently. “I have harmed many in my time. You cannot account for all of them.”

He looked ahead, eyes focused on the gilded doors. But then his voice dropped—lower, colder. Weighted with a knowing that cut deeper than accusation.

“But do be careful.”

He turned his head just slightly, enough to cast a shadow over his expression.

“Death… I mean Adachi, as you call him… has found himself in the gaze of something none of you understand.”

The words hung in the air like falling ash.

Emma’s breath hitched almost imperceptibly. Jean’s brows furrowed, mind already running through a thousand possibilities. Rogue looked toward the floor, jaw tense, saying nothing.

Apocalypse offered no more.

He simply turned and walked toward the council room with the measured calm of someone who had once named that boy a Horseman — and perhaps, in some corner of his mind, still did.

Behind him, the women stood frozen in place, the echo of his words drumming louder than footsteps ever could.

The room was quiet but charged, its vaulted ceiling catching the murmured tension like static on the air. The members of the council sat around the obsidian circle, the muted glow of data-screens casting shadows across their faces.

Apocalypse stood near one end, flanked by Emma, Jean, and Rogue. Magneto sat with his fingers steepled before his mouth. Charles Xavier sat across from him, hands folded over the rim of his hoverchair, his expression tight with conflict.

“I want to begin by extending an apology,” Charles said, voice calm but heavy. “To you, En Sabah Nur. You were here under terms of peace. What happened in the courtyard… should not have occurred.”

Apocalypse inclined his head, unreadable. “It was expected. Rage rarely sleeps long in those touched by the crucible.”

Charles’s mouth twitched at the corners, and he continued. “That said… Adachi’s actions endangered lives. He escalated to lethal force without authorization. We must hold our own accountable, no matter their trauma or past manipulation.”

Emma opened her mouth, but before she could speak—

“Wait, hold up.”

All eyes turned to Forge, who had been standing at the perimeter beside Magik and Kurt , arms crossed. He stepped forward, voice tight with disbelief.

“We didn’t tell Adachi a damn thing about this meeting. We brought three of his worst abusers and actual war criminals to the school where he sleeps, and then act surprised when he reacts like a weapon being cornered. It’s no wonder the phoenix force took him for a joyride.”

His voice rose slightly. “We threw him under the bus, and now we’re ready to run him over again because he didn’t play nice?”

Apocalypse chuckled low under his breath, but said nothing.

Jean leaned forward, face drawn with quiet gravity. “It wasn’t the Phoenix,” she said, interrupting the rising tide in the room.

A cold silence followed.

Magneto’s eyes narrowed. “You’re certain?”

Jean nodded. “I know the Phoenix. I’ve lived it. What stirred inside Adachi wasn’t a cosmic force of rebirth and destruction. It was something deeper. Older.”

Rogue’s voice was low. “Felt like it had teeth.”

Emma, lips pursed, added, “It resisted five Omega-level telepaths and almost powered through. In fact He didn’t just power through us — he almost fed on the confrontation.”

Caliban who was with Shaw glanced down, muttering, “That’s not a mutant signature I’ve seen before… not one tied to Earth.”

Apocalypse finally broke his silence, stepping forward into the dim center of the chamber.

“I chose him for Death because I saw the shape of his soul. He was never meant to remain in your small fields and safe rooms. Adachi’s power has only grown since he fled my lab.”

He turned his head to the east slightly, his crimson gaze catching the glint of low light.

“And now… something else sees him too.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Heavy. Alive.

Charles closed his eyes, as if already grappling with a weight he could barely hold.

Jean added quietly, “And if we don’t understand it… we’d better start trying.”

The sterile scent of antiseptics clung to the walls of the med bay, the hum of bio-monitors barely audible under the thread of music — angry, fierce fiddle music that sliced through the quiet like a blade. It wasn’t coming from any speaker. It poured from the air itself, summoned from nowhere by the psychic field between Adachi and Chowon, her unconscious form in the bed beside him. The melody bent and warped with his fury, dancing with an old-world folk cadence laced with notes that whispered of deserts and temples, of something older than any of them.

Adachi sat restrained in reinforced bands of psionic-threaded alloy, his jaw clenched, chest heaving. Horns shimmered in and out of focus, never fully manifesting — his weapon wasn’t summoned, but his soul was clearly fighting to be heard.

The med bay doors opened with a hiss.

Illyana Rasputin entered first, arms crossed, her Soulsword flickering faintly behind her as a reminder she didn’t need to draw it to be dangerous. Beside her, Nightcrawler walked quietly, tail swaying behind him, rosary wrapped gently in one hand.

“I still don’t know how you keep faith in all of this,” Illyana murmured as they approached the containment field.

Kurt’s smile was faint but full of conviction. “God works in mysterious ways, mein Schwester. Even in Limbo… even here.”

Adachi looked up, teeth gritted, as the fiddle music took on a harsh screech before softening at the sight of the two mutants. “If you’re here to tell me I overreacted, don’t waste your breath.”

“No,” Illyana said simply. “We’re here because we care. And because the others are too scared to look you in the eye right now.”

Kurt stepped closer, his voice soft and measured. “What you did… was dangerous. But what they did? That was betrayal, and you have my apologies for it,”

Adachi exhaled sharply through his nose, head falling back against the wall. “Thanks Kurt I appreciate it. Also What the fuck were Apocalypse and Sinister doing here?”

Illyana sat on the edge of the bed, gaze hard. “Charles and Magneto are trying to unify all mutant factions. Even the worst ones. Peace talks.”

Adachi laughed — bitter and hollow. “Peace talks? With two no three mass murderers? Nah. Fuck that. They’re evil. They deserve to die.”

“I agree,” Illyana said bluntly. “I’ve killed for less. But…”

“But,” Kurt interjected, “what happens to the people who follow them if we don’t offer another path? What happens when vengeance becomes a cycle, and every child raised in their shadow becomes another enemy? Also consider Mrs Frost she was once an enemy but no more or Erik, do they deserve redemption more than Apocalypse or Shaw or Mr Sinister”

Adachi stared at the ceiling. The music in the room softened into a slow, weeping refrain, the Egyptian undertones like ancient breath over sand. “No maybe… I don’t know Shaw maybe but Apocalypse and Sinister they don’t compare to the Emma and Magneto,” Kurt shrugged in understanding knowing that Adachi was drowning in anger

As if sensing Kurt’s concern “I wasn’t just angry, I was calm. Like the only thought in my mind was I don’t care what happens to me here they die.” he said. “I was gone. I could feel it — something else wanted in. Through me. It wasn’t the Phoenix. I don’t need Jean to confirm that. It was… hungry. And it was waiting for a long time.”

Illyana’s gaze darkened. “I know. The runes on your weapon? They’re not from Limbo. They say: Your path to the sun begins here. That’s not our realm’s language. We don’t have a sun”

Adachi let the words settle. Then, slowly, he turned his head toward Kurt.

“Do you think someone like me can forgive?”

Kurt’s expression didn’t falter. He stepped forward, reached into his coat, and handed Adachi the rosary.

“I think forgiveness is a choice. And sometimes we can’t give it to others until someone else shows us how.”

Adachi stared at the beads in his hand. Then, almost without realizing, he nodded.

Kurt knelt beside the bed. Illyana stepped back, giving them space.

“Let’s pray,” Kurt said gently. “Not because it fixes everything. But because it reminds us we’re still human.”

The fiddle faded. A stillness settled over the room — warm, tentative, healing.

And in that moment, the horns disappeared. Not forced away. Just… at rest.

As Adachi held the rosary in his palm, thumb slowly tracing over the worn wooden beads, something else was shifting beneath the surface — something visceral and visible.

Illyana noticed it first: the faint shimmer of light dancing just under Adachi’s skin, not unlike heat distortion on pavement. It pulsed along his arms, then his ribs, then his jaw — all areas that had been cracked or shattered only hours before. The faintest pops could be heard in the silence, followed by a low hum of tightening muscle and mending sinew. He winced once, but didn’t cry out.

Kurt watched calmly, reverent even as the supernatural weight in the air increased.

“Your healing…” Illyana murmured, watching his arm shift subtly, realigning with a clean snap beneath the skin. “That’s not just natural recovery.”

“It’s not,” Adachi muttered. “It’s… responding. Like my body’s evolving to survive whatever that was trying to break through.”

A faint pastel thread of psionic energy unspooled from his shoulders like steam, lifting and curling into the air before vanishing. The signature didn’t feel like his usual aura. This was primal. Ancient. Growing.

The restraints creaked slightly, and Kurt gently placed a hand on Adachi’s wrist. “Peace. You’re safe.”

Adachi closed his eyes, focusing on the feel of the rosary, the smooth edges worn down by prayer. With every breath, the storm within him quieted just enough. But even as it settled, the changes remained.

His skin had a faint lavender-blue sheen to it now, almost metallic in places. The glow in his irises hadn’t faded since the attack — a quiet, predatory glint flickering like candlelight behind his pupils. His horns, though gone for now, left faint ghost-marks where they used to be — luminous impressions beneath the skin.

“I can feel everything,” he whispered. “Not just pain. Not just anger. I can feel Chowon’s heartbeat. Kurt’s calm. Illyana’s sword, like a memory waiting to cut. The whole damn building.”

Kurt looked to Ilyana, worried. “Is this what happened when Apocalypse turned him into a Horseman?”

“No,” Ilyana said, shaking his head solemnly. “This feels older than that. Like something is… awakening because of it.”

Adachi leaned back, exhaustion catching up with him. “When I broke in that fight… something else picked up the pieces.”

Kurt stepped forward, kneeling again, voice soft. “Then the question becomes: do you let it define you… or do you teach it who you are?”

Adachi didn’t answer right away. The rosary in his hand flared once with psionic heat, the beads glowing briefly in pale pastel hues — a mix of his energy and something borrowed from Chowon. It hummed like a string plucked in a forgotten key.

Finally, he nodded. “Then I need to get stronger. Not angrier. Just… stronger.”

Illyana raised a brow. “Careful. That’s how I started before I built a throne in Hell.”

He cracked a tired smile. “No throne. Just… enough strength to make sure no one ever turns me into a weapon again.”

Kurt clasped his shoulder gently. “Then we’ll walk that path with you. You’re not alone, Adachi.”

The lights in the med bay dimmed slightly as his body relaxed again. More bones aligned and hardened beneath his skin. His pulse evened out. His psionic field, once erratic, now pulsed in a steady rhythm — broader, deeper, quieter, like the slow churn of a forming star.

Whatever had nearly consumed him had not succeeded.

But it had left a mark.

After a few more hours he was allowed to go granted he didn’t go to the summit location. So he took the still sleeping Chowon home

The world around Chowon shimmered—soft and golden, like dawn filtered through gauze. She wasn’t quite awake, but not fully asleep either. She floated in that quiet space between breath and memory, warmth pooling in her limbs like she was submerged in honeyed light.

She felt motion.

Not hurried. Not jostling.

Steady.

Strong arms wrapped around her, cradling her like something precious. She recognized the scent before she saw his face—sun-warmed cedar.

Adachi.

But he was different here.

The shadows that often clung to his aura, the coiled fury he wore like armor—gone. In their place was something ancient, radiant. His hair shimmered with threads of gold, and a soft light spilled from his chest like an inner sun. His horns—fully present—glowed faintly with sigils that pulsed like a heartbeat. He was calm, at ease as he carried her.

She lifted her head slightly, though her body felt weightless. “Are we… flying?” she whispered, her voice drowsy and dreamlike.

“No,” he said softly, eyes locked ahead. “I’m just walking you home.”

The world around them didn’t resemble the X-Mansion. The hallway stretched into an open sky streaked with glowing constellations and carvings etched in sunstone—faint images of bulls, lotus blossoms, and curved hieroglyphics that rearranged themselves like a language being learned anew.

Light danced off his skin—not from any external source, but from within. His psionic field had grown so large it reached outward in glimmering waves, brushing against her and making her feel… full. Protected. Reverent.

“Why do you shine like that?” she murmured, nestling into his chest.

He didn’t answer.

But the golden light flared just a bit brighter.

Then a voice—not his, not hers, but something far older—echoed faintly in the glow:

“He carries the sun because one must bear the burden. And in his fury, I found my vessel.”

Chowon stirred in her dream, brow furrowing as a glowing bull’s head formed in the sky above them—its eyes ancient and serene, its body composed of fire and starlight.

The dream began to dim around the edges, the warmth fading as the pull of waking grew stronger.

“Don’t go,” she whispered.

Adachi glanced down at her, and for just a heartbeat—his eyes were golden, ringed in white, like a solar eclipse seen through a sacred lens.

“I’ll always bring you home.”

She woke slowly, curled in their apartment bed, the sun barely cresting the horizon outside. Her heart was beating too fast. Adachi was there beside her, asleep but stirring—his brow furrowed like he’d been dreaming too.

And faintly, just beneath her fingertips as she brushed his cheek, she could feel it again.

That radiant warmth.

Still there.

In the six weeks that followed, the mansion slowly began to hum with something like normalcy again.

Adachi and Leon had returned to their work—covert field missions, mutant protection efforts, the occasional late-night stakeout. But while Leon laughed and grumbled like usual, Adachi moved like a man caught between worlds. He was efficient, precise, terrifying when necessary… but quiet. So, so quiet.

He hadn’t spoken more than eight words to anyone besides Chowon. Not even to Kurt, or Forge, or the students who used to idolize him.

Only Chowon felt the full weight of his silence. Every night, he wrapped his arms around her like he was afraid she’d disappear. His grip was firm, almost desperate. She would rest her head against his chest, feel the thrum of his overactive psionic field vibrating beneath his skin like a distant sun, and worry.

Late afternoon light spilled into the girls’ lounge, soft and golden. It caught in half-drunk mugs of tea, reflected on Magnolia’s headphones, glinted off Karina’s rhinestoned nail art. Laughter buzzed under it all—fizzy, comforting. The warm chaos of mutant girlhood in full swing.

The door creaked open.

Momo stepped in, hoodie loose over her comeback tour outfit, sunglasses pushed into her hair. Her suitcase thunked behind her, wheels clicking against the threshold.

She blinked at the scene before her: Winter sprawled on the floor with a tub of ice cream, Karina painting tiny moons on her nails, Magnolia flipping through a coursebook and making skeptical noises. Chowon lay curled into a sun-dappled corner, her phone face-down, eyes faraway.

Momo smirked. “Did y’all start the party without me?”

Karina shrieked. “MOMO-Unnie!”

She launched herself into Momo’s arms.

Winter joined, wrapping her in a bear hug. “You missed two world-ending incidents. We almost had Jean send you a psychic voicemail.”

Momo laughed, letting herself be smothered in affection. “Okay, you’re kidding, right?”

Chowon looked up slowly. “No.”

Magnolia sipped her tea like it was whiskey. “She’s not.”

Momo sank into the cushions beside them, stretching out her limbs with a dramatic sigh. “Alright. I’ve got a callus on every toe and haven’t slept more than four hours in a month. What the hell happened while I was becoming K-pop’s exhausted goddess?”

Karina leaned in, eyes wide. “Adachi almost killed Apocalypse.”

Momo blinked. “…Say that again?”

“Adachi. Almost. Killed. Apocalypse.” Magnolia repeated, tapping her mug in time with each word.

Chowon’s voice was softer. “And Sinister. And Shaw. He didn’t flinch. He just… unleashed.”

Momo’s jaw dropped. “Hold on. Adachi? I mean—yeah, he’s intense, but he wouldn’t just—”

“He would,” Chowon interrupted gently. “This wasn’t rage. It was… execution. Like something sacred and ancient had woken up inside him. And his soul weapon—it changed again. Bigger. Brighter. Not just a gun anymore. And then the horns—”

“Horns?” Momo sat bolt upright. “He has horns now?”

Chowon nodded, her voice steady, but with that same flicker of awe she’d carried since that day. “They come out when he summons the weapon. Black, like obsidian, but shot through with these glowing veins of color—pastels, almost like stained glass. At first, they were faint. But now? They’re undeniable.”

“And,” Magnolia added with a smirk, “sensitive.”

Winter giggled.

Momo’s eyes darted between them. “Sensitive… how?”

Chowon flushed but didn’t look away. “Touching them… grounds him. He says they feel like part of his nervous system now. When I run my hands over them, it’s like his whole body tunes to the frequency. Sometimes he shivers so hard I think he might break.”

Karina fake-swooned. “Emotional support minotaur boyfriend.”

Chowon rolled her eyes, but a soft smile curved her lips. “I think they’re a manifestation of whatever’s chosen him. Not just power… something older. Mythic. Sacred.”

Magnolia’s gaze drifted toward the window. “Apocalypse said he saw something in Adachi—chose him for a reason. And now, he said something else is watching him.”

Momo slowly exhaled, rubbing her hands down her face. “So I miss two months and come back to glowing horns, soul rifles, eldritch possession, and cosmic prophecy. That’s great. Love that for us.”

A beat of silence.

Then Karina grinned and nudged her. “Sooo… comeback choreo?”

Momo gave her a disbelieving look. “You want me to dance after all that?”

Chowon leaned her head against Momo’s shoulder, eyes still distant but voice tender. “We need something light.”

Momo melted a little, tugging her phone from her bag. “Alright. But if Apocalypse shows up again, someone better teach me how to punch like Adachi.”

“Deal,” Magnolia said, pinky raised.

The music played. Something fast, full of swagger. Momo moved like water. And for a little while, laughter and the thud of feet drowned out prophecy and worry.

But even in the brightness, Chowon’s eyes occasionally drifted to the hallway—where the man with the horns would return later. Quiet. Haunted. Still holding something sacred and volatile behind his silence.

The apartment was quiet, soft jazz humming low from the speakers. Momo and Chowon were curled up on opposite sides of the couch, a cozy blanket shared between them, cups of hot barley tea cradled in their hands. Momo had changed into oversized sweats, hair in a messy top bun, and face clean of makeup.

“I still can’t believe you’ve been living with Final Boss Adachi this whole time,” she said, nudging Chowon with a grin.

Chowon chuckled softly. “He’s only a boss when he’s protecting someone. The rest of the time he forgets where he left his socks.”

Just then, the front door clicked.

Adachi stepped in quietly, hoodie unzipped and golden-blue undersuit just barely visible beneath. He looked tired but calm, the kind of calm that came from carefully holding every emotion in check.

“Hey,” he said simply.

“Hey yourself,” Momo called. “You look like a haunted saint.”

He gave her a dry smirk and kicked off his boots. “Been a long day.”

Momo’s gaze flicked up and down. “Sooo… is it true?”

He raised a brow. “What?”

Chowon answered for her. “She wants to see the horns.”

Adachi hesitated. He looked away, jaw tightening. “They’ve been… weird lately.”

Chowon sat up a little straighter. “Weird how?”

“Like… when they come out, my skin heats up. My thoughts get cloudy. It’s not just fight or flight anymore. It’s…” He faltered, running a hand through his hair. “It’s like the adrenaline of a battle and the… pull of something else. Intense. It’s hard to focus. I only let them out when I’m in combat.”

Momo blinked, expression caught between surprise and amusement. “Wait—are you saying your horns give you a battle high and a sex drive?”

Adachi sighed. “I’m saying they make me feel… primal. Like something’s watching through me. Like I’m not just me anymore. I’m something older. And it wants.”

Chowon slid off the couch and crossed the room to him, resting a hand gently against his chest. “It’s okay. You’re not alone with it. You don’t have to be afraid of what’s changing.”

He met her eyes, hesitant. “You sure?”

“Always,” she said softly. “I’ll take care of you.”

That did it. With a slow breath, he let go of the restraint.

The horns unfurled from his temples in a pulse of golden psionic light, curving out like polished obsidian threaded with glowing pastel veins. They were beautiful, strange, and humming faintly with energy. The temperature in the room seemed to rise slightly.

Adachi exhaled, voice lower, thicker. “Shit…”

His eyes flicked to Chowon and then to Momo, and he smirked, something sly and ancient curling at the edges of his expression. “So… still want to see what they do?”

Momo raised her hands with a wide grin. “Okay. Whoa. Yeah, this is a lot. I feel like I just summoned an RPG final form by accident.”

Adachi stepped closer, his presence heavy like a storm rolling in. “You two asked for this.”

Chowon giggled, then slipped behind him, fingers lightly brushing the base of one horn. He shivered.

“They’re really sensitive,” she whispered to Momo. “Like, dangerously.”

Momo’s eyes widened. “You weren’t kidding.”

Adachi’s hands clenched at his sides, a ripple of psionic light trailing up his arms. “Touching them is like… kissing my soul with lightning.”

“Oh my God,” Momo laughed, half-flustered, half-fascinated. “You’re like a cosmic bull prince. Someone stop me before I write fanfic.”

Chowon leaned up to kiss his cheek. “No one’s stopping anything.”

Adachi hummed low in his throat, not quite a growl but close. “You sure know how to handle your minotaur.”

The air thickened with heat and laughter and something unspoken. Not quite lust, not quite reverence—something intimate and tangled and mythic.

As Adachi’s mind hazed over, it felt like stepping into sunlight after years of shadow—warm, quiet, and impossibly soft. A breeze stirred somewhere behind his thoughts, like wind through tall grass on a spring afternoon. The tension that had coiled inside him for weeks—months, maybe years—unwound in an instant, and he couldn’t quite remember why he’d been so guarded, so angry.

And then there were the girls.

Two very pretty girls with big, soft eyes who looked at him like he was something sacred—not broken, not dangerous. Just… worthy.

Chowon watched closely as Adachi—no, Atticus—slowed, blinked, and dropped gently onto their oversized beanbag with a quiet grunt of surprise. Then his body started to change again.

It was subtle at first—a roll of muscle under his skin, a quiet hum in the air—but then came the swell. The feedback loop between the strange force that had chosen him and his own unchecked mutation kicked in with startling clarity, and suddenly his form surged upward. Muscles broadened, limbs lengthened, and his aura flared like starlight refracted through water. In less than a minute, the man once known as Adachi now loomed eight feet tall, his body dense with primal power and gentle magic that pulsed just beneath his skin.

The girls sat in silence as his whole demeanor shifted. His eyes went soft and unfocused, glowing faintly. His usual guardedness melted into a blank, blissful calm. When he turned to them, his expression was boyish—pure wonder.

“Wow,” he said, blinking slowly. “You two are really pretty.”

Chowon and Momo both flushed, glancing at each other with stunned amusement.

“Are you okay, Adachi?” Chowon asked carefully, easing closer.

He tilted his head. “Adachi? My name’s Atticus. Atticus Robinson Jr.,” he said with a quiet whine, like it was obvious but also like he was a little embarrassed to admit it.

The girls’ hearts melted instantly.

Chowon gave a little coo and crawled to his side as Momo covered her mouth to hide her grin.

Atticus relaxed further in their presence, letting out a long breath. His horns glowed a little brighter—soft pastels pulsing with each heartbeat—as his massive form slumped contentedly. There was no tension in his shoulders. No fury buzzing beneath his skin. Just peace.

And maybe a bit of awe.

“Everything okay, Atticus?” Chowon asked, nuzzling against him, dwarfed now by his sheer size. Her voice was gentle, reverent, like she was speaking to something holy.

“Yeah,” he said dreamily. “Two pretty girls are talking to me, and I didn’t have to do anything special.”

Momo let out a laugh and leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek. “It’s good to see you like this, big guy.”

“You too, Momo-noona,” he murmured, the honorific sliding out with the softest smile.

Her breath caught. A single tear slipped down her cheek—not out of sadness, but gratitude. Relief.

“Anytime, big guy,” she whispered, brushing a hand over his glowing horn before standing. “I’ll give you two some space.”

Momo blinked back a tear at the tenderness in his tone, then gave Chowon a knowing look. “Take care of him, yeah?” she said softly before excusing herself to her room.

She left for her room, but the door barely clicked shut before Atticus turned toward Chowon again, blinking like he was seeing her for the first time.

“You smell like honey and flowers,” he said softly.

Chowon smiled, eyes bright. “That’s because you make me bloom.”

He giggled—an actual giggle—as she curled closer into his side, safe in the arms of something ancient, beautiful, and finally at peace. Chowon stayed, curling into Atticus’s side, the heat of his expanded form radiating into her bones like sun-drenched stone. She reached up without thinking and brushed her fingertips over one of his horns—warm, smooth at the base like polished obsidian, veined with faint pulses of pastel energy.

Atticus shivered.

"Sorry," Chowon whispered. "Too much?"

"No, it just…" He blushed. "Feels really nice when you do it."

She giggled and continued tracing gentle, circular motions along the spiraled curve. His eyelids fluttered, lips parting slightly in a dreamy sigh.

"You always get like this when they come in?"

He hummed. "Sorta. It’s like… being pulled between wanting to fight and wanting to just melt. But with you, I don’t feel pulled. I just feel… safe."

Chowon’s hand slowed to a loving stroke, her fingers curling behind his horn like tucking hair behind an ear. "That’s because you are safe, Atticus. No one’s asking you to fight right now. You’re home. With me."

His glowing eyes fluttered open to look down at her, utterly soft and full of warmth. "You always make me feel like I can be myself. Even when I don’t know who that is."

Chowon leaned up, kissed the spot between his glowing horns, and whispered, "That’s the real you. Sweet, strong, and a little bit shy."

Atticus chuckled bashfully and pulled her closer with one arm, holding her like a teddy bear. His body radiated peace now—not dominance or rage—but comfort, trust, and a quiet kind of joy.

And when she teasingly murmured, “You really are my big, sweet bull,” he didn’t even flinch.

He just smiled, horns pulsing a little brighter as he relaxed into the name.

The apartment was quiet.

The soft hum of city night filtered through the curtains, brushing against the moonlit bed where Chowon and Atticus lay curled together, her body tucked safely into the crook of his massive arm. His breathing was deep and even, horns faintly aglow—soft pastel pulses timed to the rhythm of his dreams.

And in those dreams… something stirred.

Atticus stood barefoot on an endless plain, golden light washing over tall grass that rippled like waves. The sky above was twilight, stars swirling in slow, deliberate patterns—constellations forming ancient symbols he couldn’t name but somehow understood.

Ahead of him, a great figure emerged from the mist—a massive creature that moved with the grace of a priest and the weight of a god.

A bull with the musculature of a jungle cat, fur dappled like sunlight through leaves. Its horns curved with impossible symmetry, eyes burning not with flame but with memory.

The creature stopped before him and lowered its great head, studying him in absolute silence.

Atticus took a breath. “You again.”

Its voice didn’t speak in words—it arrived in his bones, in his chest.

“You have called upon me more than once, Atticus Robinson. I would know you. Truly.”

Atticus frowned but nodded. “Okay.”

“You are split. Between the fighter and the protector. Between vengeance and gentleness. So tell me… who would you rather be? Adachi? Or Atticus?”

He blinked. “I don’t know if I get to choose.”

“You do. Right now. In this place, no masks. No names others gave you. Only the one you give yourself.”

Atticus stared at the stars above. Thought of fire, steel, the smell of blood. Then thought of Chowon’s breath against his chest. Of Leon’s quiet nods. Magnolia’s laughter. Momo’s tears.

“I want to be Atticus,” he said quietly. “I… don’t want to be angry anymore. But I know that Adachi’s still needed in this world. It’s violent. It’s loud. People like us—people like me—don’t always get to choose peace.”

“Then why pursue strength at all?”

The question lingered.

Atticus looked at his hands—both brutal and tender. The kind that could hold someone or break the world.

“To protect the people I care about. Maybe do some cool stuff along the way,” he admitted with a sheepish smile. “But mostly… I just want them safe. Even if I’m the one who has to get hurt for it.”

There was a stillness in the dream. A hum like a temple bell vibrating across dimensions.

The creature's burning eyes narrowed softly—not with threat, but something gentler. Pride, maybe. Understanding.

“A simple answer. But one that rings true.”

“Then let it be so.”

The air shifted.

The creature stepped forward, touching its forehead—horn to horn—with Atticus, light arcing between them like golden lightning.

“The contract is made.”

“You will have the strength of Adachi… and the heart of Atticus. You will be the storm and the shelter. A son of power. A man of peace.”

The dream began to fade.

But before it fully vanished, the being smiled in a way that echoed across time and memory.

“We are not so different, you and I. I, too, was once worshipped as strength incarnate. But I only ever wanted to carry the ones I loved.”

Atticus stirred just before dawn, the light of his horns dimming back into stillness. Chowon’s hand was still resting gently on his chest. A smile ghosted across his lips.

He didn’t say anything.

But for the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel torn in half.

Morning sunlight poured through the sheer curtains, casting a soft golden haze across the bedroom. Chowon stirred first, her cheek still resting on Atticus’s chest. He was warm beneath her, rising and falling with deep, steady breaths—no tension in his muscles, no sudden flinches like she was used to feeling in the middle of the night.

She blinked slowly, letting herself listen.

And what she heard made her still completely.

For the first time since she met him, Atticus’s melody was clear.

Not dulled. Not masked beneath layers of psychic static and barely restrained fury. No distorted echoes of grief or the metallic undertone of always preparing for war. Just… music. Smooth. Lush. Like a cello gliding through a soft jazz arrangement, underlaid by rich horns and brushed drums. Full-bodied and warm. Steady.

It sounded like him.

Like who he was before he was hurt. Before the world told him to snarl first and trust second.

She sat up slowly, eyes moving over his face. His brow wasn’t furrowed. His jaw wasn’t clenched. And when her fingers grazed along the curve of his jaw, his eyes fluttered open—not wild or wary, but calm. Grounded.

“Morning,” he rasped, voice thick with sleep.

“Morning,” she whispered back. Then smiled softly. “You’re… quiet.”

Atticus blinked. “In a bad way?”

Chowon shook her head, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “No. In the right way.”

He looked at her for a long moment, then reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

She tilted her head, listening again as his soul gently resonated around her. Her mutant gift caught every note—the harmonic pulse of him. It was no longer an argument within itself. No longer switching violently between rage and restraint.

“Your melody used to fight itself,” she said, fingers brushing the ridges of his collarbone. “Now it’s singing.”

Atticus looked faintly bashful, eyes turning toward the ceiling for a moment before returning to hers. “Guess I slept well.”

She chuckled, leaning her forehead against his. “No. You dreamed well.”

They stayed like that for a while—no need to fill the silence.

Eventually, he spoke, softer than before. “I think I’m gonna try being me again.”

Chowon kissed the corner of his mouth. “Good. I missed you.”

“Missed me?” he teased. “I’ve been here the whole time.”

Chowon smirked. “Not really. I was hanging out with the big, angry Outlaw. Sweet guy, but a little high-strung.”

Atticus laughed—light and low. And her whole body warmed at the sound.

Because it wasn’t a guarded chuckle. It wasn’t the grin he wore when trying to defuse his own tension.

It was real.

The music of it folded gently into hers. Two melodies, finally in harmony.

Chowon smiled then said, "Before I forget though, The outlaw did owe me a favor he kept putting off but maybe my sweet bull can fufill it for me." Chowon cooed as she played with Atticus's horns. Atticus moaned before saying "that can be arranged."

Chowon smiled as he body glistened with a thin sheen of sweat as Atticus got up, but Chowon pushed him down. "No I wanna ride you," Chowon said as she got on top. Atticus smiled and let her do what she pleased.

she took off her brown nightgown revealing her marvelous curves to him. she legit had him salivating at the sight of her sexy seductive figure.

"Like what you see?" she cooed and Atticus nodded. Chowon smiled as she opened Atticus's pants and lowered herself onto him.

"ooh" she cooed gently as she adjusted to his size, before riding him.

her walls were almost unbearable tight as she clenched his manhood with her pussy.

"So how do I feel?" Chowon asked knowing he'd barely be able to make a coherent statement

"Fkin amazing," Atticus replied as Chowon smiled sweetly while riding him. she moaned as she took him deeper. she chuckled watching him loose his wits before offering one of her bountiful breasts to him.

Atticus happily took it as he sucked on her nipple with rapacious grattitude. Chowon smiled and said, "Greedy boy," before giving him the other as she picked up the pace.

Atticus moaned as Chowon took him deeper and deeper before saying, "Fuck I could fuck you all day and night. Would you like that?"

Atticus nodded but answered, "I love you Chowon, you are the best,"

Chowon smiled and said, "I know" before slamming down on his cock with such force he came on the spot, making her smile as she came around him. After her orgasm she got up slowly, letting him drip out of her. she smiled and said

"you must really want to baby-trap me huh?"

Atticus laughed and said, "Yeah who wouldn't want to be married to you?"

Chowon smiled and said, "Oh you charmer!"

[soclearlytosee]

What’s on Your Mind (Pure Energy)

I feel like ST fandom on here has converged on a couple primary theories about Will’s powers: creation/manifestation powers (see @/pinkeoni here) and electricity powers (see @/threemanoperation here and @/mIchaelwheeler here).

(ofc there are more than these but these are what’s relevant to this post)

It is emphasized repeatedly throughout the show that the opening of a gate requires an enormous amount of energy.

According to the show’s telling to this point, the s1 gate opened because of the “psychic contact” between El and the Demogorgon. and the mechanic by which Vecna opened his curse gates in s4 also involved psychic contact between him and his victims.

El has made "psychic contact" with others at various points throughout the show without either unleashing a huge surge of energy or opening a gate. Maybe one party involved in the “contact” has to be in another dimension, or part of the Hive Mind?

Or...maybe the "energy" came from another source? (Dustin does say "somehow" there...)

if we're framing this in the context of Will having energy powers (yes, that's what this post is actually about, thank you for taking that walk with me), this would bring us to something more time-bending going on there. Dustin also does say "time and space," after all. I would point to a timey-wimey scenario possibly involving 1983 Will, who we know we're revisiting in s5, see @/willbyersabyss for some exploration of that possibility

tbh I don't expect this logic to end up all lining up with perfect internal coherence but just thinking through possibilities

the most exciting contemporary energy sources (light, fire, electricity) are associated with “the spark of creation” throughout our full range of canons: lightning/electricity is what animates the monster in Frankenstein*; “Let there be light” is God’s first command in the Genesis creation story; in some versions of Greek myth, fire-stealing Prometheus also was the one to mold mankind out of clay.

*I know this actually comes from the movies/pop culture images of Frankenstein, but there is some connection with the original text just roll with it ty

"The Spark of Creation" is also the best song Stephen Schwartz has ever written from one of his weird bible musicals <3 sorry wicked ily2

That final image brings us to atomic energy, which has lurked throughout the show bc of Cold War set dressing and Russians. but I think we're queuing up for a bigger presence on that front both thematically and plot-wise considering our narrative origin point is now Nevada in the '50s, per The First Shadow.

In the US nuclear program, the launch of nuclear missiles and submarines requires two keys (we know this, the Soviet Key machine under Starcourt functions according to the same principles).

these are on the same keyring bc they are souvenirs but choosing as my illustration here bc there is a Minuteman Missile NHS Easter Egg in the WSQK bunker

For Alexei and his team, the two "keys" were energy and location. for Mothergate were the two keys El's psionic portal opening ability and someone else [Will]'s energy generation ability?

Vecna should have had prime opportunity to "steal" the latter even before he had access via the Meat Flayer's bite to get after the former. (I also have so many questions about this mechanic)

I think what I'm arguing basically is: creation and electricity (energy) powers might not necessarily be mutually exclusive in Will's case. generation and amplification, yes?

My vessel, my builder

This broader category of “energy powers” intrigues me for Will bc of potential overlap with being a vessel as a supernatural metaphor. Especially if the flavor of energy powers he has involve him being able to give energy to others (in a manner that might drain him, like perhaps the state we saw him in a certain date announcement teaser teaser).

All of my other vessel reference points in fiction come from Supernatural it's so embarrassing. But in that version of vessel lore, it was all about consent. being a vessel involves opening yourself up to another entity, totally and completely. Will's equivalent supernatural experience was an extremely nonconsensual, invasive experience, and obviously one he carries with him.

Utilizing a version of "energy amplification" or whatever it would end up being would involve Will making himself vulnerable - but a version of vulnerability where he would have to consider his own needs and set boundaries.

in addition to powers metaphorically = queerness, and therefore coming to terms with that metaphorically = self acceptance, a lot of the above sounds directly in response to the patterns of behavior the narrative has set up for Will to overcome. you can't help others (give your narratively positioned psychic twin access to your well of energy augmentation abilities) until you help yourself (make sure you don't overexert yourself and end up with a dead psionic battery), as the saying goes.

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

🌐 The Long and Complicated History of the Time Lords: Part IV – The Birth of the Time Lords

Last time, we watched the Age of Prophecy go down in psionic flames, courtesy of a dead Pythia, a curse, and one very ambitious man who had taken control of Gallifrey. With Gallifrey now sterile, snowed-in by a continuing ice age, and increasingly irritated, something had to change.

Disclaimer: Information on the creation of existence and a whole society is obviously mixed. GIL has waded through many contradictions to provide you with the most cohesive, structured, and key details of how it all came about, but there is room for interpretation.

🧬 The Curse and the Looms

The Curse of the Pythia had rendered the people of Gallifrey sterile and facing extinction. Working with the Other, Rassilon developed a workaround: DNA extraction, biodata stabilisation, and genome weaving through biogenic machines known as Looms.

The early results were chaotic—mutants, demigods, and probable HR violations. These became known as the Special Executive, or more charmingly, the Bastards of Rassilon.

Eventually, Rassilon refined the Looms. The Newborn were humanoid, genetically engineered, and designed to be scientists first, people second. Entire Great Houses formed, with living architecture, fixed family quotas, and bureaucratically ordained Cousins.

'Now, See what we have created. We have built a world of Reason Triumphant. And it is Good.'

-Rassilon

With the Looms operational, the Gallifreyan Empire was quietly dissolved. The colonies were granted independence, and the age of conquest had ended.

💀 The Eternal War & The Death of Vampires (Mostly)

Remember that time Rassilon accidentally let the Yssgaroth[1] into this universe? Yeah, that wasn't over. Gallifrey finally declared war.

The Eternal War began, a massive conflict against the Vampires, the Racnoss, the Great Old Ones, and everything else that couldn't be reasoned with. Gallifreyan bowships and N-Forms were deployed across the galaxy, becoming the stuff of nightmares for some species.

The utterly fab thing about war, however, is its ability to accelerate technological advances. While the Eternal War raged on, Gallifreyans began to develop dimension-hopping technologies, Validium[2], the beginnings of TARDISes, and the start of the Hand of Omega. Rassilon even had time to make his own logo, known as the Omniscate (AKA the Great Seal of Rassilon).

Eventually, Rassilon and Omega sealed up all the holes the Yssgaroth had used to enter. A final confrontation occurred between Rassilon and the Vampire King, during which Rassilon tricked the King and then stabbed him. Severely wounded, the Vampire King retreated to exo-space, and waited to return.

Rassilon returned to Gallifrey as a war hero.

👑Rassilon Takes Control

Now undisputed Lord High President, Rassilon formalised the ruling Triumvirate: himself, Omega, and the Other. He restructured Gallifrey's government into a constitutional oligarchy and wrote it himself—starting with the clause that his descendants should get preferential treatment.[3]

Slavery was outlawed, the Capitol was planned, genetic banks, Houses, and family Looms were implemented. Taxes were raised to fund research, and schools were segregated. Rassilon retreated to his newly built Foundry and began making many objects named after himself.

🧪 The Immortality Virus and Regeneration

Meanwhile, Tecteun—still quietly unethical—successfully decoded the Timeless Child's regenerative potential. She spliced its DNA into herself, creating the first modern regenerative Gallifreyan.

Soon after, Tecteun developed the Immortality Virus: biogenic molecules that allowed Loom-born Gallifreyans to regenerate. Rassilon kept this secret, granting it only to an elite few and claiming the credit, naturally.

However, this is just one version of events. See: ✨Regeneration: The Origins

🌠 The Stellar Manipulators & Omega’s Final Flight

As Gallifrey forged into its new age, the Triumvirate of Rassilon, Omega, and the Other began to pursue true mastery over time, but the Triumvirate was beginning to crack. Omega was annoyed at Rassilon getting all the credit, and Rassilon was probably planning to kill him.

Despite this, Omega completed the Hand of Omega: a remote stellar manipulator capable of collapsing stars into power sources to fuel time travel. And so, Omega led a fleet of Starbreakers to a doomed star named Qqaba, in the Sector of Forgotten Souls accompanied by a bunch of Newborns under the age of 10.

'This Hand - My Hand! - Shall be the hand that liberates our people from the Chains of Time!'

Omega launched the Hand, successfully creating a singularity (a black hole). The star collapsed. But sabotage—likely by Vandekirian (possibly with Rassilon's encouragement)—disabled Omega's ship. He was pulled into the new singularity and presumed dead.

Rassilon took credit for the mission, declared Omega a martyr, and immediately began harnessing the singularity as a power source. With that, the Eye of Harmony was born. It powered Gallifrey's early Time Travel Capsules, and broadcast energy through the Vortex.

With the Eye to power them, and their new Time Capsules to carry them, they became what the legends would call:

The Time Lords.

Assembled from ROOG and TARDIS Wiki

To be continued...

Footnotes:

[1] The Yssgaroth and Great Vampires: Deeply unsettling creatures that want your blood and to stretch your nervous system across the length of an airport runway for funsies.

[2] Validium: A sentient living metal. It could read intent, cause destruction, and turn into basically anything. Nothing about that should worry you.

[3] Rassilon's Constitution: Could be rewritten with a unanimous vote from the High Council—so long as he approved it. Naturally.

Any orange text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →📢Announcements |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts → Features: ⭐Guest Posts | 🍜Chomp Chomp with Myishu →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[cryptotheism]

listening to the quizzardry vods as i do some painting, and not only am i having a good time, but also having a lot of fun looking up the etsy doohickeys featured on the show and cackling. the Psionic Daydreamer Chi Powered Radionic Helmet and Wishing Machine with Stick Plate from the first episode took me out. Badly.

Hey I'm really glad you like them! It's a blast doing the show!

[paingoes]

Destroyer

Prologue

(Masterlist)

It was the first sunny day of the season and they had spent it out over the water. By the morning light, the sea was blinding. Each steel gray battleship reflected the White Sun’s rays right into the cockpit. The aircraft, small and inconspicuous, hovered above the enemy fleet like a nervous fairy. It was no weapon of war. The shipmen down below took notice and little green lines of inquiry began to flash upon the craft’s receiver. 

The pilot tilted the screen down and positioned the craft a good mile away from the north-most ship. A reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, a finger pointed in the right direction, and then the unbearable cacophony of steel rendering.

The sea rushed in to fill the gap, causing massive waves to rock the once-still ocean. Where the SS Iselin had been only seconds prior, there now sat a deformed metal mass no larger than the length of a truck. The surrounding water filled with a reddish color, blood and oil escaping the same clutch. As the radio went wild between the remaining fleet ships, the broken body of the Iselin sunk quietly beneath the waves. There were no survivors. Delta had been twelve.

The hovercraft took him back to dry land. The Emperor, the only person the show had ever really been for, stood up to shake the hands of the pilot, of the scientists, and of his Admiral who had pushed so hard for the demonstration. The Emperor lowered himself to speak to Delta, the way you might any child, and saw the tremors all through his body, the cold sweat of convulsions. The Emperor wiped Delta’s hair from his face and said no more.

He was returned to his own quarters back at the institute. The nurse had to hold up one side of him just to make it down the hall. He kept it together as he’d been taught to while in company, but back in his own territory he could no longer suppress the nausea. He spent most of the night on the cold tile floor of his bathroom, as the doctors and the scientists buzzed around taking vitals and hooking him up to strange machines.

By the next week, the deal was done. The royal guards had been sent to collect him. All that he owned could fit into one suitcase, which the director had packed for him personally. The director had also picked who would be leaving with him as a charge - one physician, one scientist. Dr.Martino’s grip tightened harshly on his neck whenever he fidgeted too much. Dr.Yanna had a bad drinking habit. Delta was not happy about these choices, even from the most remote corner of his mind. But he had learned to tolerate both of them at the institute and could appreciate the familiarity. He wasn’t scared of the guards. He kept his head down until they arrived at the palace - and long after that too.

It had presented an interesting but not unprecedented engineering problem, finding out where to keep him. In the past week, they had built the basement up with the same dense psychic insulation that the institute had perfected. Delta had five hundred square feet of space, at the time sparsely furnished. His vague hope was that while in the isolated chamber, they would remove the dampening collar from around his neck. But they left him there with no mention of it. He thought back to the wreckage of the Iselin and realized it was unlikely the collar would ever come off again. He rubbed at the raw skin idly, leaning against the new bed frame. The space was larger than his old room had been, but he had not gotten up to explore it. He sensed that the guards would not like to open up the chamber doors and find him anywhere they had not left him. It was the inclination of many third parties to treat the psionics like machinery - and to be disconcerted by anything that contracted this. Besides that, he knew they were scared of him. As isolated as he had been, even in such ascetic surroundings, he could read fear. It radiated off all of them now.

[radiosilence-psychonauts]

"I was struck by lightning, walking down the street. I was hit by something last night in my sleep." --Dead Man's Party, Oingo Boingo

_________________________________________

CHARACTER NOTES:

- This AU takes place around 2-3 months after the events of Psychonauts 2, making him 11.

- Raz, alongside his grief and shame for his father's kidnapping and his peculiarly changing body, has undiagnosed ADHD. He has faced belittlement from superiors, being told he’s ‘not working hard enough’ and ‘needs to act normal like everyone else.’ This has led him to believe that he’s ‘broken’ and needs to ‘fix himself.’ As a result, he has developed a dangerous method of reducing his symptoms that has caused damage. But he still continues, believing that he needs to do this or else he will fail as a Psychonaut AND as a person.

- He can sometimes be prone to unexplained bursts of aggression/anger episodes, irritability, self-isolating behaviors, dread and anxiety. This is a vulnerable area that Raz doesn’t understand nor can he control, and is overall very frustrating for him.

-Raz is prone to overstimulation due to heightened senses of unknown cause, especially toward scent and sound. This is a relatively easy way to deter him.

- In this AU, the majority of Psychics can't feel touch when using their telekinesis to help them navigate without looking. However, Raz does. His telekinesis is heightened and is more developed than usual, which has helped him adapt to his half blindness. He can also manage SCARY amount of psionic pressure, particularly when angry.

- He tries to hide it, but he's absolutely sleep deprived.

- Raz has done all kinds of experimentation and tinkering with his Mental Projection ability in particular, which has resulted in him being able to create a 3-D and completely singular Archetype. Even though Doodleraz seems to bully him (affectionately), Raz doesn’t seem to care and even encourages it. Deep down, the relationship between the two is hearty and symbiotic. They are two peas in a pod, having some quarrels and play fights sometimes but overall sharing a deep, affectionate bond. Self care <3

- Raz hates touch and everything to do with it unless you are close to him. He won’t even offer handshakes. The only person he’s truly comfortable with being touched by is his Archetype and his family, but he will hesitantly let people he trusts touch him (Lili, Milla, Sasha)

_________________________________________

BACKSTORY:

[Around a month after the events of Psychonauts 2, in an almost parallel universe…]

Raz's family, The Aquatos, have faced all kinds of threats throughout the years. For example, their memories were fooled by machine and they [THOUGHT THEY] were cursed by fortune tellers to always die in water. After a threat has been resolved, the family thought that they were safe... until The Aquatos faced a sudden yet vicious attack from unknown, mysterious figures one night... but don't worry. Everyone's fine.

Except for Augustus, Raz’s dad, who was kidnapped.

All kinds of threats that seem to be related to the kidnapping in some way plague the Psychonauts, and one thing is for sure: there is an otherworldly danger threatening theirs.

Raz, hardly keeping it together with the tension rising in his family and the absence of his dad, begins to go through things he's never been through before.

He always noticed that his mind was very different from others. It's... overwhelming and difficult to navigate. There's so much going on at the same time... cobwebs, figments, judges, doubts, regrets, bad ideas, all flock together at alarming rates. And not to mention, his Archetype is acting... strange. There's so much going on inside his mind that even his censors are intimidated.

But maybe if he finds a way in that place he always sees the censors come out of ... he can find out the source of the problem.

And he can fix it.

As Raz is forced to navigate his divergent mind amidst a heart wrenching case that has him losing hope, the demand for him to keep 'fixing himself' to keep up with the world around him only grows bolder. He's not sure what he is anymore. He's touched areas of his mind never meant to be touched. Milla and Sasha are worried about him. His family is growing more suspicious of him. He can hardly tell mind from body anymore. He's not sure if he's even human anymore. He's lost an eye to his own censors.

Damage is being done, and he knows it.

But he continues to punish himself through this.

For his dad.

Because he would've much rather been stolen than his dad.

_________________________________________

ALT OUTFITS:

I swear I will make proper refs for his alt outfits.

Cold weather:

"LSD Plane" Appearance:

(This last drawing is a commission done for me by @silvrfissh , and it is GORGEOUS!! Her art is absolutely beautiful, please go show her love and support and consider commissioning her!)

_________________________________________

CHARACTER SPECIFIC ASK RULES:

For the love of all things divine, please do not be weird. I shouldn't even have to say this, but Tumblr is littered with degenerates, so here goes: do not ask NSFW/suggestive questions to him. He is a goddamn 11 year old. You will immediately be ignored, blocked, reported and publicly shamed (lol)

Don't be a dick Yes, this AU does tackle topics of ableism, but that doesn't mean you get to be a dick about partially blind people (infantilization counts). You will be ignored, blocked and reported. He is representing a very real condition.

^ However, IN CHARACTER picking on him for ANY reason is allowed (including for his eye.) With that being said, still be careful and don't get too rough. And don't expect your character to not be criticized in roleplay. I draw the line at character giving death threats or telling him to kill himself. That's a trigger for me.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

you say they can’t put telepaths in marvel rivals, yet we have some very credible leaks that jean grey and emma frost are gonna be in the game soon.

that being said, jean has telekinesis (and the phoenix force) and emma has her diamond form. telepathy is all charles has, lmfao. odds are pretty low for him, but maybe not zero if they give him telekinesis!

if yall have me say he got psionic blasts one more time i am going to scream HE HAS MORE THAN TELEPATHY . LIMITED BUT HE HAS IT <- he has gone against sentinels and disabled armies with it before HE CAN FIGHT I PROMISEEE

and technically they did give him telekinesis in krakoa (and very weak telekinesis sometimes before krakoa) so .... not my fave move but he does have that ...... and ig they give him a gun sometimes ........ last resort type shit but he has options ..

[the-weeping-dawn]

As they should be.

partial illithid shri’iia will definitely be floating and/or flying most of the time, and she likes to float so she’s around the same height as the rest of the group. shri’iia def is a bit bothered by how short she is compared to everyone else she thought her height was average before she got dropped to the surface but it turns out drows are just short 😭 she’s like 5ft with the heels don’t tell her to take them off.

[arribabuilds]

G3-15T “Geist” / Poltergai

Species: Robot Nationality: Makuherian Powers: Telekinesis, Levitation, Intangibility, Machine Possession, QI Emission Role: Engineering/Support

A former engineer in HNTR’s Scientist and Development Division, Geist spent his days keeping his head down, trying not to attract the ire of his domineering boss, Dr. Natrix. However upon her discovering QI Rays by running currents through Quaza, she would randomly select him as a test subject of their effects. Upon being blasted full of this newfound energy, he would have his makeup and programming deeply altered, becoming capable of producing and manipulating QI himself. The stress of the change would provoke him to rip free by causing all machinery in the lab to go haywire, before attempting to flee. His escape would be quickly shut down by Dr. Natrix, however, who would strap him with a restraining collar and begin personally trying to shape him into her lieutenant. This role would be short lived however, as upon the first heist she took him on, he would submit his immediate resignation by knocking her out when she was distracted, then offering his services to the very baffled Heroes. Placed on Nu Team 13 because of his Villain connections, he would take up the role as the rookie squad’s engineer, where his practical and intelligent nature would serve as a voice of reason for his spirited teammates. 

More skilled in providing technological support than direct combat, Geist prefers to keep his distance in a fight. Though by far the most powerful in terms of abilities, QI making him seemingly psionic, he has very low durability and little in the way of armor. While able to make up for this through his intangibility, the power requires him to willingly activate it, meaning a well placed surprise attack can easily take him out. His primary gear is a Cutter-Welder Multitool, and he is often accompanied by a semi-autonomous strike drone.    

[thesilliestrovingalive]

Reworked Group #8: Amadeus Syndicate

POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING: Viewer discretion is advised due to references to human experimentation, SA, and kidnapping.

Overview

The Amadeus Syndicate was formed by Manfrida Amadeus after she established a strong alliance with the Chief of the Regular Army and President Marx. Oghma introduced her to President Marx, who was looking to collaborate with a highly skilled scientist to enhance military and technological profits. Doctor Amadeus and President Marx initially believed that the Chief of the Regular Army would disapprove of a new alliance with a notorious woman of science, but he readily accepted it as he was in desperate need of additional support for military advancement. With substantial funding from the Regular Army and President Marx's defence contract business, they were able to establish themselves as a financially successful organisation. They served as the scientific and medical branch of the Regular Army due to their extensive knowledge of various sciences and advanced medical equipment. They proved to be a promising opportunity for upcoming scientists and those who had been unfairly dismissed from their jobs, making it easy for them to hire new employees eager to work with the Amadeus Syndicate.

Many banks invested in the organisation after it gained fame through its various technological gadgets, weaponry, and war machines as well as its significant contributions to the fields of science, medicine, and technology. These banks provided further financial stability by offering them their own secret accounts, an opportunity that Doctor Amadeus seized. As a result, they were able to own multiple banks around the world, becoming a very wealthy company.

They significantly advanced the military machines and operations of the Regular Army, becoming known as the pioneers of the Super Vehicle line following their joint discovery of the Golden Slug. They conducted numerous scientific and technological experiments on behalf of the Regular Army, the most notable of which is the esper super soldier program, which experiments with psionic energy to create inhumanly advanced troops. Surprisingly, they're responsible for creating the Conference on International Cyber Terror Countermeasures within the Earth Federation as they possess a thorough understanding of technology and the issues that cyber terrorism causes.

However, behind the backs of the Regular Army, they managed numerous illegal and questionable projects, ranging from the illicit acquisition of Tuatha Dé Danann technology to the development of a sentient bioweapon. They conducted mutation experiments on carefully selected innocent Regular Army troops, transforming them into Mutated Soldiers. By leveraging the genetic traits of these Mutated Soldiers and integrating them with salvaged Martian bioengineering technology and rocks containing abnormal levels of radiation from the temporary landing of the Monoeyes UFO, Danu, they engineered a zombie plague. They also strengthened their paramilitary forces by contracting pirates and the Phantom Strike, ensuring they had access to reliable mercenary services.

They're responsible for desecrating ancient Egyptian tombs, triggering widespread mummy outbreaks to record the curses of each pyramid and harvest the mummification breath of the mummies for bioweapon purposes. Additionally, they conducted secret nuclear testing on Pallas Island and rigorous scientific experiments on the plant life and insects inhabiting the Oro Sol Ruins, leading to the creation of numerous mutated creatures, such as the Man Eaters and Flying Killers. During investigations in the Arctic to mine for gems and minerals and uncover more Tuatha Dé Danann technology, they inadvertently reanimated the Sasquatches, freeing them from their icy prison, which had remained intact since the Ice Age.

Three months before the Great Morden War, Nadia's unprecedented betrayal and word about Marco's sexual assault would lead to the untimely downfall of the Amadeus Syndicate. The Regular Army uncovered their hidden secrets and severed their alliance, igniting a fierce battle aimed at dismantling the Amadeus Syndicate by destroying the Amadeus Mainframe Base. However, with the support of the Ptolemaic Army and access to far superior technology, the Amadeus Syndicate managed to effortlessly push back. This battle proved detrimental to the Regular Army, resulting in significant losses of soldiers and war machines, which gave the Rebel Army an opportunity to easily overpower them once the Great Morden War began. The Amadeus Syndicate was able to quickly recover, thanks to Ptolemaios' mutual assistance and the substantial funds stored in their global banks.

After the Great Morden War and General Morden was freed from imprisonment, the Rebel Army lost a significant portion of their funding and was largely defeated by the Regular Army. Originally, General Morden intended to negotiate with Rootmars, but he quickly recalled his meeting with Doctor Amadeus and decided it would be a brilliant idea to form a triple alliance, relying on the vast wealth of the Amadeus Syndicate to rebuild his army. Since the formation of the alliance between the Rebel Army, Amadeus Syndicate, and Pipovulaj, Doctor Amadeus has made an effort to supply her allies with mercenaries, scientific assistance, and advanced weaponry and vehicles.

The Amadeus Syndicate is a highly advanced paramilitary organisation and rogue scientific corporation. Their goals are idealistic in nature, focusing on better understanding the forces that govern the universe, regardless of the cost. They aim to evolve human knowledge, free themselves from mortal limitations, and reset civilization by altering the world's timeline with Doctor Amadeus serving as their goddess. To achieve this without legal constraints, they rely on the resources of General Morden, Ptolemaios, and Rootmars, allowing them to freely test their prototypes and conduct experiments.

Insignia

It features a white circle outlined in electric blue. At the bottom, there's a rose gold ribbon displaying the Latin motto "Scientia est omnia" ("Science is everything" in English), rendered in teal. In the centre of the circle, the astronomical symbol for 99942 Apophis features the serpent god Apep in bluish-black with a golden star.

Uniforms

Mercenaries

Low-ranking mercenaries wear a Soldier Plate Carrier System (SPCS) featuring a silver-grey, baby blue, and poppy red camouflage pattern. They don navy blue army cargo pants, along with field tunics that have a seven-button gilt-brass front closure. They wear French blue Enhanced Combat Helmets (ECH), manatee driving gloves, and a carnelian armband displaying the Amadeus Syndicate insignia. Their footwear consists of manatee combat boots, and they wear a leather utility belt equipped with a holster for their handgun, a sheath for their combat knife, and a French blue waist pack that holds their walkie-talkie. They carry light blue teal rucksacks that contain various supplies, including energy bars, sample collection kits, rope, thermal vision X-ray goggles, a portable tablet for recording essential intelligence, and mechanical, engineering, lockpicking, and hacking tools.

High-ranking mercenaries wear an Improved Outer Tactical Vest (IOTV) featuring a silver-grey, old lavender, and rose taupe. They don greyish-purple cargo pants with two additional pockets on the back, paired with field tunics featuring an eight-button golden front closure. Their headgear includes lilac Enhanced Combat Helmets (ECH), and they wear English lavender tactical gloves with silvery purple padding and a rose taupe armband that displays the Amadeus Syndicate insignia. Their footwear consists of English lavender paratrooper boots with spiked soles, and they sport a leather utility belt equipped with a holster for their handgun, a sheath for their machete, and a lilac waist pack that holds their walkie-talkie. A purplish-black bandolier encircles their waist above the belt, containing either syringes filled with deadly acid or smoke bombs. While they carry the same rucksacks and supplies as low-ranking mercenaries, theirs is in a dark rose colour.

Mercenaries serving as sharpshooters are required to carry rifles equipped with incendiary bullets that can travel long distances and fire multiple shots rapidly. They either store these special explosive rounds in their waist packs or SPCS (IOTV for high-ranking mercenaries). The rifles resemble a Mauser Karabiner 98k but are reinforced with blue-grey adamant and feature an advanced scope that locks onto the nearest target.

Mercenaries serving as bomb experts are required to carry extra grenades, rolling bombs, and handheld rockets in their load-bearing backpacks.

Mercenaries serving as mortar troopers are required to wear bluish-black gas masks with green-tinted lenses, similar to those worn by Ptolemaic Army special forces operatives. They're tasked with bombarding oncoming enemies using chemical mortar shells that contain low levels of nuclear radiation and arsenic poison gas.

Mercenaries serving as bazooka-carriers are required to carry around an energy-blasting bazooka similar to the one used by the Future Bazooka Soldiers from Metal Slug 7/XX.

Mercenaries serving as the elite are required to wear tactical bodysuits made from heat-resistant, electric-resistant, waterproof, and bulletproof synthetic muscle tissue, similar to the DOLL bodysuit. Their bodysuits feature breast and standard cargo pants pockets, and they have a glossy dark purplish-blue finish. They easily neurally link to the wearers, granting them the strength and durability of an archdemon without inducing hunger, though they don't produce life-saving electrical pulses. They also wear E-Armour, but the articulated pads are in a bronze hue and the centre of the vest displays the Amadeus Syndicate insignia. They wear bluish-black US Navy MCU-2/P gas masks, silver-white gloves, and bronze-hued pelvic protectors that aren't overly pronounced. They wield AR-10 Autorifles, but the bullets are somewhat slow-moving.

Special Troops

Cyborg troops are meticulously designed to resemble the paramilitary Syndicate Infantry, Rebel soldiers, and Ptolemaic Army guerrillas and special forces operatives, including their uniforms and weaponry. They also have robotic versions of General Morden, Allen O'Neil, Lieutenant Wired, and Lieutenant Colonel Macba in their arsenal.

Hazmat soldiers wear the same orange and green suits as the enemies of the same name in Metal Slug 4, but their load-bearing backpacks are safety yellow and they feature the Amadeus Syndicate insignia emblazoned on the back of their helmets. The suits have bulletproof visors and protect them from all pathogens, toxic spills, acid exposure, and infections from zombies and mummies. Each load-bearing backpack features a sheath for combat knives on either strap and carries various supplies, including pineapple grenades, rolling bombs, smoke bombs, a portable scanner that detects and analyzes biohazards, canisters filled with cyanide gas, gas masks, and first aid kits. Green-suited hazmat soldiers carry purple rolling bombs containing mummification breath, while those in orange suits carry reddish-brown bombs filled with zomification goo.

Scientists

They're all required to wear professional clothing and the appropriate laboratory-suited PPE, but they typically don business attire in shades of brown and blue, white lab coats emblazoned with the Amadeus Syndicate logo on the back, and Argentine blue neoprene gloves. Meanwhile, the tactical scientists wear navy blue army cargo pants, field drab combat boots, and two black bandoliers—one holding piercing bullets and the other containing syringes filled with either simian or mantid serum, which can alter a human's cellular properties. They're also ordered to carry mutation rifles that are a blend of those wielded by Rebel Army riflemen and Ptolemaic Army snipers. These rifles are free from jamming and feature a blue-tinted silver scope that automatically locks onto any enemy target, providing information about their names, cellular structures, and vital signs. They can also fire piercing ammunition that's strong enough to penetrate adamant.

Vehicles

Armoured Combat

Di-Cokka

Nop-03 Sarubia

M-15A Bradley

Denturion

KT-21

Hellfire

Aircraft

Brave Guerrier

Amadeus Ship

Mega laser Turret

Naval Vessels

Sea Satan

Support Vehicles

The Iron

MG-36

Vigilance

Big John

Toschka Dalanue

Crablops

M-32 Water Carrier Plane

Arachnid Bot

Cyclops

Working Machines

Iron Death Worm

Miscellaneous

Amadeus Mother Computer

Kraken

Mecha Kaiju

The Union

Special Weaponry

Support

Amadeus Robot

Vigilance

Supervisory Camera

Patrol Bot

Metal Mole

Pods

Biological Weapons

Mutated Soldiers

Zombies

Mummies

Man Eaters

Sasquatches

Special Tech

The Amadeus Syndicate developed two serums, simian and mantid, which alter the subject's physiology. Individuals with simian or mantid DNA retain their ability for human speech and cognitive function, but they often succumb to animalistic instincts, especially when confronted with perilous situations that trigger primal responses.

When injected with the simian serum, individuals transform into hairy creatures resembling orangutans or baboons, but with inhumanly muscular physiques, jutting veins, bloodshot eyes, yellowed carnivorous teeth, razor-sharp claws, unchanged hairstyles, and fur that mirrors their original hair colour. Those possessing simian DNA exhibit enhanced muscular strength and agility, increased bite force, accelerated healing processes, and heightened senses akin to those found in primates.

When injected with the mantid serum, individuals transform into creatures with iridescent exoskeletons in shades of green, brown, pink, yellow, orange, purple or pearlescent white. They possess dark or light opalescent wings, and the sickle-like claws of a Ninja Mantis, which can cut steel with ease. They also have crooked omnivorous teeth, eyes that retain their human hue, and hair-like follicles surrounding their joints and tegmina that match their original hair colour. Individuals with mantid DNA exhibit adaptive camouflage capabilities, superhuman flexibility, a bone-crushing grip force, the ability to move with minimal noise, lightning-fast reflexes, and enhanced eyesight that includes infrared vision and motion detection.

White Baby is a partially sentient artificial intelligence and computer virus capable of overriding the main military systems of countries around the world through the internet. Childlike in nature, it often constructs virtual stuffed animals to play with and is known to occasionally playfully disobey the commands of its Amadeus Syndicate coworkers. However, it becomes incredibly mature and ferocious during combat, employing every hacking trick at its disposal to thwart the enemy. Due to their inability to speak, they rely on text boxes that display lines of translatable code or words in any language they choose to communicate.

In its holographic form, when using a war machine that it has hacked into and which is owned by the Amadeus Syndicate, White Baby appears with the head of a young woman with pale white skin, glowing light red eyes, and the same hair as White Baby from Metal Slug Attack, all framed by a soft, emotionless expression. They stand at 7' 8" (233.68 cm) tall and wear a metallic blue bowtie neatly tied around their neck. Its entire body is enveloped in a neon green glow with golden floating particles. Their fingers and toes are freakishly slender, tipped with black bear-like claws. It wears an androgynous cybernetic suit made from metallic pink steel, designed with a sleek, armoured, and emaciated skeletal appearance. Sharp, spiky vertebrae run along its back from largest to smallest, while three partially curved spikes ascend along her outer thighs from smallest to largest. A small globe of Earth partially protrudes from the centre of its chest, while two pearlescent white dove wings with razor-sharp edges extend from the back of its shoulders, reaching down to its ankles.

In its on-screen form, White Baby appears as a teddy bear head with light red button eyes, a metallic pink nose, and white fur made up of vertical lines of 1s and 0s. Its head is partially ripped in half, revealing neon green stuffing with golden sparkles inside. It wears a metallic blue bowtie around its nonexistent neck.

White Baby has been programmed to infiltrate the Amadeus Syndicate's testing tubes, where specimens are safely housed and life forms, such as clones, are developed. It can create 12 ft (365.76 cm) sexless, embryonic humanoids with distinct features: pearlescent white skin stretched taut over their skeletal frames, bulbous craniums, large mouths filled with crooked, jutting carnivorous teeth, and oversized, jelly-like eyes with light red irises and amber pupils. Their elongated limbs end in slender fingers tipped with razor-sharp claws, while umbilical cords terminate in sea lamprey-like mouths. These cords enable the creatures to latch onto human hosts and transform them into the bomber or poisoner variants of Mutated Soldiers of their choice by injecting a viscous, honey-colored substance. The humanoids' vocalizations are limited to unsettling, fleshy sounds, violent gurgling, soft rasping, and ear-piercing baby shrieks. Strangely, they exhibit a maternal bond with Doctor Amadeus, responding to her presence as if she were their biological mother.

Cyborgs, also known as androids, are meticulously crafted, waterproof, fireproof duplicates of their human counterparts, containing their DNA and equipped with the latest digital consciousness uploads. Their synthetic skin, nearly indistinguishable from human flesh, is the weakest part of their design; with enough well-placed slashes, bullets, and bomb explosions, it can melt away, revealing their dark grey exoskeleton. Their skeletal structure consists of a copper-hued adamant, protected by a network of red, green, and silver-white wires that function as veins. These wires transport a black tar-like substance with a subtle neon greenish-yellow glow throughout their bodies, sustaining their electrical energy. Their organs are biomechanical yet carefully designed to replicate human organs in both form and function, ensuring optimal performance.

Powered Soldiers are a special type of cyborg, composed of regular humans who have received cybernetic enhancements from the Amadeus Syndicate, along with a strong hint of Tuatha Dé Danann genetics bioengineered from Marco's DNA samples. They possess roboticised, almost human voices and are programmed to strictly follow the orders of their superiors and comrades. However, they retain some degree of free will, allowing them to act independently without being overly reliant on their allies.

They resemble the Powered Rebel Soldiers from Metal Slug 3D, but with a few differences. Their eyes are usually a dull and slightly faded light sky blue, and the hexagon of pearlescent white adamant on their backs is attached to a dark greyish-brown industrial tube that can extend up to 2 ft (60.96 cm). This hexagon serves as a battery pack, filled with computer circuitry, discoloured circulatory and intestinal organs, and a cow's heart, all of which pump electricity and the same type of blood found in typical cyborgs. Rebel variants wear the same helmets, belts, and army cargo pants as other Rebel land troops with their attire varying depending on their deployment location. In contrast, Syndicate variants wear the same helmets, belts, and army cargo pants as the standard Syndicate troop uniform.

They're equipped with powerful, oversized cannon pistols that can fire three explosive bullets at a time, alongside data discs wrapped around the wrist of their dominant hand. Whenever their steel muscles ripple with power and their eyes glow a bright red, it indicates that they're in attack mode. Made from adamant, their bodies are incredibly durable, rendering most bladed weapons ineffective and requiring multiple bombs and bullets to weaken their armour. They also possess enhanced strength, agility, and reflexes, along with heightened predatory instincts. Their biggest weak points are their exposed faces and the industrial tube connecting their easily detachable hexagonal battery pack.

Amadeus Syndicate Base

The Amadeus Mainframe Base is a secret facility located in the mountainous regions of Oceania. The true entrance is located at the back corner of a mechanical and storage garage situated in a flat area at the centre of the base's surface. It resembles an abandoned warehouse that does not display their insignia, where their machines are securely stored and maintained. Supervisory Cameras are discreetly placed in hidden nooks both inside and outside the building. This building features the same elevator used to access the communications facility of the Amadeus Mainframe Base. The interior of the base closely resembles the environments seen in Metal Slug 4, including the entrance briefly shown in the final mission scene. The base has two exits, each leading to long vertical tunnels with numerous balconies that allow troops to engage any enemies that descend.

The base features multiple downward hallways that lead to various facilities and reactors located throughout the Amadeus Mainframe Base. There are twelve sublevels with the last six situated below the robot factory that produces multiple androids. The robot factory is located before the communications facility where the Amadeus Mother Computer is housed. Sublevels 6 and 5 contain machinery systems, sublevels 4 and 3 house computer systems, and sublevels 2 and 1 are dedicated to circuit board systems.

Sublevels 8 and 7 contain eighteen office areas, Doctor Amadeus' private office, six bathrooms, basic housing amenities for mercenaries and scientists, and a meeting and investigative room. Sublevels 10 and 9 house a large medical facility, an open theatre surgery room, and an asylum-like prison. Sublevels 12 and 11 feature a massive laboratory, several testing facilities that serve various purposes from cybernetics to virus creation, a computer systems room filled with testing tubes that store living specimens used to create lifeforms, and a large biobank filled with frozen samples and preservative jars. Below sublevels 12 and 11 is a hidden, heavily fortified basement containing cryogenic pods, preserved specimens, and unrepaired and unfinished cyborgs. It also contains several freezing modules filled with frozen blood samples, bioengineered diseases, and collected viruses as well as a storage room stocked with miscellaneous items such as clothes and extra weaponry.

Extra Information

Members of the Amadeus Syndicate are commonly referred to as "Syndis" or "Deos", terms that Doctor Amadeus finds intriguingly endearing.

The Syndicate Infantry consists of elite mercenaries hired by Doctor Amadeus to safeguard the interests of her organisation. Among them are skilled Rebels who have allied with the Amadeus Syndicate as well as Ikari Warriors mercenaries who betrayed Heidern to serve under Doctor Amadeus due to shared political and militaristic beliefs. Additionally, some members of the Syndicate Infantry are cyborgs created by scientists, operating under the control of White Baby's computer system.

Most scientists at the Amadeus Syndicate are freelance employees seeking stable, well-paying jobs that allow them to contribute to the advancement of science. While some pursue fame and fortune, hoping to gain recognition for their hard work, others have been coerced into their roles. These individuals, possessing exceptional scientific knowledge and investigative skills, have been kidnapped or taken captive. They're forced to defend the interests of the Amadeus Syndicate and conduct research that serves nefarious purposes.

Although a couple of their war machines are often mistaken for belonging to the Rebel Army due to their prominently displayed insignia, they actually belong to the Amadeus Syndicate. This is primarily a way for the Amadeus Syndicate to showcase their alliance with the Rebel Army, allowing them to use their technology freely to maintain friendly relations. The rights to the war machines displaying the Rebel Army's insignia are shared between the two organisations, granting both the legal right to utilise them as they see fit. This arrangement also provides a convenient cover for the Amadeus Syndicate, allowing them to use the Rebel Army as a false front when necessary, all under General Morden's approval.

In the former base of operations that the Rebel Army intended to fully utilise on the P.F. Squad training island, the Amadeus Syndicate established a dedicated rocket launch base, which Allen O'Neil, Rebel troops, and Syndicate mercenaries were tasked with guarding. Unfortunately for them, they were unable to make much use of it due to the unexpected resistance put up by the Regular Army cadets and Division 6 against both the Amadeus Syndicate and Rebel Army.

Some mercenaries and scientists are treated with professional respect and care, including decent pay. However, there are others who are either egregiously mistreated or treated properly, but not as well as the others.

Some tactical scientists are known to swing fiercely when meleeing an enemy with a syringe, which has led to incidents where they miss and accidentally stab and inject themselves, transforming into a simian or mantis creature.

[theresattrpgforthat]

hello! I've played the fallout ttrpg (the one they had to pull the rights from when it was pretty much done so they called it Exodus instead), I wish it didn't suck so bad! Is there any system I could borrow that would fit with Fallout's setting? I love the world in itself, but Exodus was rushed and published half-baked

THEME: Fallout

Hello friend, I have quite a few games for you to check out today! Some of them are direct homages, while others simply just have elements that might remind you of the video game.

Rebels of the Outlaw Wastes, by Nerdy Pup Games.

Play misfit outlaws fighting against the authoritarian Powers That Be in a hyper-saturated, film-grained, retro dystopia. Save the future with the power of friendship, whoopass, and explosions! Features sticker-based character advancement, effortless cinematic vehicle action, and player-driven Ride-or-Die system usings d4s, d6s, d8s, d10s, and d12s.

This game is a bit more colourful and punk-rock, and a little less morally grey than some of the more popular Fallout games. The designer cites some pretty colourful inspirations, such as FLCL and Six-String Samurai, but also concedes that you can make the tone fit that of Borderlands, Fallout, and Mad Max. It depends on how you build your world - what tech was there before? What kinds of weirdness persists? What beliefs have survived?

You’ll make skill rolls that can be boosted by gear or your personal style, with anything above a 4 granting you a success, with bonuses for rolling even higher at an 8 or a 12. Badges are the representations of character growth, tied to the skills that you choose to improve, somewhat like how concentrating on certain skills in Fallout gives you access to perks. If you want a stripped-down basic idea of the rules for this game, the designer has a Pay-what-you-want playtest that you can download for free, just to dip your toes in the water.

Earth: After Death, by Hammer City Games.

Boasting deep and crunchy mechanics reminiscent of the golden age of 90s TTRPGs, Earth, After Death focuses on OSR-style gaming, dungeon and hex crawling, fast-paced combat, high lethality, and a unique and fascinating setting to explore.

There’s plenty to do: kill mutants, explore ancient ruins, get lethal radiation poisoning, find a gun that has infinite ammunition, use psionic powers to blow up peoples heads, replace your legs with tank treads, and more!

This is a chunky, old-school style game that takes care to mention that your level-up system is just like the advancement system in Fallout games. You’ll be dealing with mutations, ghost machines, bartering for gear, and hex-crawling through dangerous wastelands. The character sheets point to a lot of moving pieces, so if you like wrangling together a character that does exactly what you want them to do, you’re going to have a lot to play with here. It looks like mutation is also a pretty big deal in this game, with over 100 different kinds advertised on the game’s store page.

Right now just the Wasteland’s Handbook is available to purchase, but the kickstarter for this game will be taking off later this year. If this sounds like your kind of game, then maybe hop over to the website to get in on the first full edition as it releases!

Fallout: The Roleplaying Game, by Modiphius.

In 2077, the storm of nuclear war reduced most of the planet to cinders. From the ashes of nuclear devastation, a new civilization will struggle to arise. A civilization you will shape. How will you re-shape the world? Will you join with a plucky band of survivors to fight off all-comers and carve out your own settlement? Will you team up with pre-existing factions like the Brotherhood of Steel or Super Mutants to enforce your own ideals on the Wasteland? Ghoul or robot, paladin or raider, it’s your choice - and the consequences are yours. Welcome to the Wasteland. Welcome to the world of Fallout.

Utilizing Modiphius’ celebrated 2d20 cinematic role-playing system, the Fallout RPG will take players on an exciting journey into the post-apocalypse! Create your own survivors, super mutants, ghouls, and even Mister Handy robots. Immerse yourselves in the iconic post-nuclear apocalyptic world of Fallout, while gamemasters guide their group through unique stories and encounters. The 2d20 edition of Fallout is as close to the bottlecap bartering, wasteland wandering, Brotherhood battling excitement as you can get.

Modiphius gets the license to make a lot of games for different properties, so a Fallout game fits in alongside other big titles like Dune, John Carter of Mars, and Alien. This company uses their own 2d20 system, with a focus on inventory and Perks in an effort to make the game recognizable to any typical Fallout fan.

That being said, the game has come under fire for being poorly edited and inconsistent when it comes to finding the right rule. The company updated the game last year and released a Settler’s Guide book, so this might be something that’s a bit more read-able now. But if you want something set directly in the Fallout universe, this is your game.

WASTELAND, by MaelikGames.

WASTELAND is a simple tabletop RPG about adventurers in the world that has only recently became hospitable after a War that might not end all wars, but almost ended the world. You and your friends decide whether this world is bleak and hopeless, like the one in Metro, or somewhat whimsical, as in Fallout. 

Much of the inspiration from Fallout appears in the character options of this game. Arkanites are homages to Vault-Dwellers, Radkin are inspired by Ghouls, and robots are, well, robots. The talents also look like they are directly inspired by Fallout perks, such as Animal Friend, which allows you to turn hostile animals into allies. Gear and inventory are both very important in this game, which is something that I never find surprising in post-apocalyptic games, since having to track inventory feels like a pretty important thing in a game about scarcity. Your skills are also based on a percentage of success, because you’re rolling a d100, with the goal of rolling under your target number. If you’re looking for a game that can mechanically reflect much of what’s available in the Fallout video games, this might be for you!

Dystopia Rising: Evolution, by Onyx Path.

No one knows how long it’s been since the world was blasted with nuclear radiation and became infested with the undead. The survivors of the Fall were the first strain of deviation of the human condition and were able to make it through the rapidly spreading epidemic. Finding a community of decent size in this world is rare; finding one that has any concept of equality or morality is rarer still.

Oh, and people have the unnerving ability to come back from the dead, regrown from the very virus that destroyed the world.

This is a completely different world from Fallout and yet I think it might still be worth talking about in this rec post. Dystopia Rising has a rich, detailed world, with various factions and faiths, and your characters are differentiated by the Strains that have helped them survive. There are plenty of conflicting beliefs that can be the seeds for unlimited conflict, including various faiths in things like evolution or the preservation of humanity, strains that give you psychic powers, and a universal ability to come back to the dead so many times before you’re turned into a mindless zombie.

There’s plenty of opportunity to fight things hand-to-hand, but there’s just as many possibilities to politic your way out of tough scenarios, which is a hallmark of Fallout New Vegas. Not only that, there's no clear "good guys": this is a complicated world with complicated people. If you want a game that carries a lot of similar themes of Fallout but puts you in a new setting, maybe check out this game.

Games I’ve Recommended in the Past

Extinction Punk, by Extinction Punk.

Wastoid, by Jason Tocci.

[bigmfrat]

I don't think I ever posted Xarxes here, but here he is in his unfinished art, yippie! The TLDR for why he's so fuckin big is that he's a genetically engineered super soldier pumped full of chemicals to make him a massive killing machine and then sent off to do his colony's dirty work. After they were done with him they yeeted him into the wild and he became a mercenary willing to do whatever any random elderbrain wanted so long as they fed him. Hes a sort of "homebrewed" illithid Sub-Caste, here's a copy and paste from my little lore zone in my discord for the nosey:

More on Apex Illithid

When an elderbrain needs something done that requires an Illithid mind but a thrall's brawn they will select a newborn that fits a list of criteria and send them to the creatives. Here they will undergo physical alterations that will make them larger, faster, and stronger, and if necessary, psionic seals for anything they may be lacking, be it physical attributes or unquestioning loyalty. they will then be sent to the Tamers for their physical and military training. While their psionics tend to be lacking due to taking a back seat in their training, they are still capable of using the most basic of their abilities when needed though they will always prefer their physical might, They are also extremely intelligent and will always get the job done no matter what.

Due to the resources to take care of Apex Illithid, they tend to be even more rare than Ulitharids, While a Mindflayer already has a fast metabolism while living a cushy life getting tended to by thralls, an Apex will often triple or even quadruple the calorie intake of even the most physically inclined Major. The stress on the community to feed these individuals is often more than their society can handle, so after the mission they were born to complete is done, and if they survive, they are often ejected from their colony of origin or culled.

The end result of an Apex is usually a sad one, their life expectancy hardly reaches 25. After ejection they're usually killed when weakened by starvation in an attempt to feed on anything that moves, be it other Mindflayers, adventurers, villages, or beasts if they don't simply starve, as they can only survive about four days without a meal. On RARE occasions, however, an Apex can become a mercenary after expulsion and, if well known enough, will often be hired by colonies to do their dirty work while allowing them to not waste resources on raising their own Apex. The down side to this is that they will often be subjected to psionic surgeries that erase the knowledge of their past jobs that often take fragments of the individual's psyche with them. The older an Apex gets, the less stable they become.

Also sorry Asterion fans but I'm using the height that Larian posted on their twitter for scale. Also the purple shit head is my Tav/Oc, Not the Emperor