#new yolk shadow

[kiko-klept]

Shadow, Crow, and Bark all hanging out!

AU! After the events of Prime, the Shadow variants hang out together often.

Bark is chill, Crow is easily irritable, and Shadow simply enjoys watching the chaos unfold.

[the-sky-queen]

Momentum doodles!!!! (Featuring Render!)

[khagihan2000]

My takes on Prime. 

[lore-of-mobius]

Inconsistencies Of Sonic Prime Part 4

Part 3

So Shadow using a Chaos Emerald is unaffected by the Paradox Prism with no explanation to why, but regardless just like Sonic this seems to have resulted in his lack of alternate versions of him. So with the Shatter Spaces most notably New Yolk seemingly being the Sonic world but different in the absence of Sonic wouldn't that have applied to Shadow as well?

In other words how does the Chaos Council exist without Shadow? The reason I say this is because it is now currently being heavily implied that the events of Space Colony and what happened to Maria, majorly impacted the Robotnik family. From there affecting Eggman possibly being a major cause for his villainy. So in the absence of Shadow and by extension Project Shadow shouldn't things have played out much differently?

[sea-jello]

happy mid autumn festival to my girl chang’e today is literally her day

[aesrot]

girls when theyre so incredibly tired but they cant stop putting the characters in situations....

[aromantic-shadow]

Predictions for season 1c:

Dramatic breakup in the rain, Sonadow edition

Repercussions for Nine. That was clearly an emotional moment- he trusts and cares about Sonic, that’s clear, and he was hurt. It’ll be interesting to see how that affects him out of the heat of the moment.

Sonic character growth. Understand that they’re different people

The Eternity of Darkness

Sonic and Nine making up

[sprucelogsarepeak]

in regards to the new season I think there is only one way to make me excited about many many robot fights and that is to have shadow the hedgehog kick some ass in it

[definitelynotshouting]

your half of the ransom

inspired by this post and scar's tweets about secret life :] i speedran this just in time for the first eps of the new season to drop!! as always likes and reblogs and especially comments in the tags are appreciated❤️ enjoy!!

Scar wakes to a field of sunflowers.

The sun itself is a swollen yolk bleeding gold at its edges when he blinks, cascading down from the horizon to melt over the earth with indiscriminate fervor. It dips the petals of each field-flower in honey, honing their silhouettes to supple knife-points— even the soil beneath him, packed firm from countless nights of sleep, has burnished to a fine, patinated bronze. In the amber of its rays stray pebbles transmute to pyrite, the subtle scrabble of roots to filigree, and caught in the open mouth of such gaudy resplendence, Scar digs an elbow into the dirt and hauls himself, reluctant, back to his own unsteady feet.

Even at full height the sunflowers still tower, blocking all signs of hearth and home. But the sun (popped, bleeding, all gored-out gold in the upturned belly of the sky) remains his guide— Scar picks his legs up in a faltering stumble to follow it before catching rough fingers against the stalk of a nearby sunflower. He flinches; this early, it's too easy to perceive each stalk as part of a swarm, a yellowed panoptic presence bearing down on the world-weary muscles of his shoulders.

Their seeds will need harvesting soon. Scar hums, a match-strike against unyielding silence, and casts his gaze back to the sun above to orient himself in the direction of his base.

Until they're ready, he has nowhere else to be.

Trader Scar's is too-empty for so comely a morning, a hollowed-out shell long rebuilt and bristling with more wares than he has those to sell them to. But it's a familiar charade— Scar slips into the back with a single sunflower clenched tight in his palm, bruising the petals and scratching against the insides of his fingers. He changes in rapid, efficient motions; last night's poncho is discarded over a nearby chest in exchange for a brighter one, yellow wool lovingly dyed; his hair is released from its tie, combed through, then braided again; the soft leather shoes he'd worn underneath the stars are left to clump by the doorway in favour of far-keener diamond. Worn in but undamaged, the crystal chimes without dents or scratches— there's nothing left to fight here, anymore.

When Scar steps back out to the front, a ghost is waiting patiently for him at the counter.

Or— the ghost of a ghost, if he's being generous. The outline of a shadow, the flicker of a distant mirage. "Oh," Scar says, and the word scrapes like rust from the well of his throat. He'd recognize those wings anywhere. "Well, hello there, Grian."

Grian's filmy outline says nothing. They never do, when the shades appear for a rare visit. The barrier between living and dead remains a clear divide, a gorge through which Scar cannot pass— all that's left between them now are the soft, faded echoes of what was, and what it could have been.

Still, in the year he's spent here, that's never deterred him from a potential sale. Scar props a hip up against the counter, eyeing the flickering shadow and mustering up his best imitation of an enthusiastic smile. "So what brings you out here to my neck of the woods? Looking for something to buy? Some fine goods to trade, perhaps? Man, I don't think I've seen you around in a dog's age. How about some catching up?"

The back of his neck prickles, electric; Grian's shade is a stygian blot in his vision, a fuzz of static that extends its presence from floor to ceiling. His ghost keeps his silence.

Scar tugs his smile wider, flashing two rows of bright, gleaming teeth in Grian's direction until the strain threatens to choke him. "No? Not even a little bone for ol' Scar? Well, tell you what, don't you go standing on su— se— oh, ceremony! Come in, come in! You make yourself at home, you know how I just love a visitor— how about I make us a drink to share and you tell me where in the world you've been, mister."

He doesn't bother waiting for a non-existent reply; instead, Scar swoops down to snag his fingers against the cupboard he'd installed within the counter months ago, fumbling with the latch before throwing its doors wide open with a gust of musty air. Inside, an eclectic mix of quite high-quality wares and some of Scar's own humble belongings tangle, speckled with cobwebs and the first faint stirrings of freshly disturbed dust.

Scar purses his lips, eyeing each item in turn. A nautilus shell here, a few scraps of wood there, some glass bottles, the handle of a ladle he'd cracked over six months back.... Squinting, he thrusts his hand deep into the mess, sweeping the items aside and shuffling new ones into view until— there!

Toward the back lies a dented iron kettle, brittle with disuse. Scar snaps forward, straining out his arm until the tips of two fingers meet the edge of its dusty wooden handle. With a grunt, he flicks it closer, wincing at the shrill scrape of iron on wood as it inches toward him.

SCAR.

It is not a voice. No mere voice can resonate a single word like that in his chest, trembling in his bones and drumming out from the chambers of his very heart. Like a ripple on the still surface of a lake, it rattles through him, scattering each thought to the far corners of his mind and stripping him raw, flaying open his ribs to splay beneath the scorching sun. The yelp that bubbles up to his lips flies past them unbidden, rocketing out with such force that he jolts, and rams his skull straight into the overhanging lip of the counter.

White-on-red sparks, a cherry-hot bolt of fire centered on his crown. "OW! Oh, oh my gosh, I-I— Grian?"

None of the shades haunting him and this server have spoken. They've never spoken. They've never— so why now, when he's made his peace with that—

Scar wets his lips, tongue dry as desert bone, and drags the kettle out of the cupboard with one quick yank. Clutching it to his chest, he rises back up on shaky feet, holding it up as if to ward off an incoming attack. Some shield; its hollow interior reverberates with a screech when he raps his knuckles against it. "Now— now hang on, mister, you can't just— you— oh my gosh, I-I think you just made my heart stop there for a second." A bracing breath. Two. "Y-You can't just shock a man in his own home like that! You...."

Scar trails off. The misty impression hovering on the other side of the counter remains impassive, impersonal— this is not the Grian he knows.

The Grian he knew.

Deep within the static writhe of his shade, the after-image burn of greyed-out eyes begin to squirm to the surface. Scar flicks his gaze back to the kettle with instinctive, long-honed deference, staring hard into the distorted lines of his own reflection.

YOU WON. Once again the words rip something vital in him, boil up through his veins to tear themselves, wet and coppery, on the limp meat of his tongue. Scar risks a peek up, lump hanging heavy in his throat; each syllable comes out as a squeak, threatening to crack the smooth silver of his voice.

"I— yep, I sure did! I sure did, and— thank you very much, for noticing! I, uh, I still don't know how I did that, what with— oh, you know how it is, with, with the, uh, the— friends situation, how that all panned out. Y'know, actually, I wonder if that's wh—"

The eyes blink at him, asynchronous and blank. Hollow. In the heartbeat it takes for them to train back on his own, a soul-wrenching wave of gooseflesh ripples up over Scar's arms.

He whirls himself away so fast his vision spins. "So, uh— tea! You like tea, right Grian?" Without ceremony Scar scrambles to the other side of the room, forcing the counter still between them, every nerve in his body winding tighter, tighter, kinetic energy in a bottle. "How about, um, a—" he rifles through a new cabinet, clumsy with frenzy— "oh, shoot, now where did I put that— I've got some, uh, some dandelion root! Hand roasted by yours truly, of course. Not that anyone else could do it now, but— oh, oh, and look at the lavender, now that's just delicious, you've gotta try it, G, I know you'll just absolutely love it."

Silence. Scar's hand pauses, braced tight on the handle of the cabinet.

"Grian," he says, slow, quiet. Lets the words drift up, shining soap bubbles, to pop against the ceiling. "Why— what are you doing here?"

To his credit, Grian is direct. IT'S TIME.

Without permission, Scar's fingers tighten around the handle of the cabinet. "It's— what? Wait, wait—" He blinks. Does not turn around. "Time for what?"

Silence.

Scar licks his lips, worrying at the split still stinging at the right hand corner. "Time for what, Grian?"

The distinct pall of burning ozone scalds through the air. Tentatively, Scar shoots a glance back down into the kettle, peering at the distinct smudge still smearing the wall behind him. No eyes in its reflection; some of the tension riding in his shoulders loosens, slackens his tendons and begins to uncurl his fingers from the cabinet knob.

Without warning, a wash of ice wisps forward to numb the small of his back. COME HOME, Grian says simply. The words echo in the gap beneath his sternum, drag themselves up each vertebrae in his spine, and Scar freezes stiff, solid.

"This is home," Scar says, blank.

NO.

Some hot ember, banked countless months ago, sparks back to life in the pit of his stomach. "It is," he says, more firmly this time. "It's— that's it. You said it yourself: I won. And I did it fair and square, I'll say. I followed every rule, every task to the— to the nth degree, and... and now I, um." He falters. Grits his teeth until the molars ache. "I get to live with it."

But a sudden chill that has nothing to do with the shade behind him abruptly slips beneath his skin. Hesitantly, still clutching the kettle in one hand like a lifeline, Scar says belatedly: "... Right?"

Despite the sun nearing midday, the temperature around him plummets. NOT ANYMORE.

"Oh," Scar says. The metal surface of the kettles creaks as his second hand joins the first, digging nails into rust and grime. "I— again?"

YES.

"... And what if I don't want to do it again."

He does not phrase it as a question. They both know his answer.

Scar sucks in a sharp shock of air anyway, rattling the kettle against his chest and daubing a blotch of dust over the soft wool of his poncho. "Is—" he bites his lip— "will everyone... be there?"

YES.

Ah. Scar's eyes slip shut of their own accord; behind them, dozens of veins brim over, webs of blood welling up and spilling to slake a thirst so abyssal it could drink and drink for years without satiation.

"... Will you be there?"

For one long, nightmare-eternity, Grian does not reply. Then, a knife between his ribs: YES.

With slow, halting steps, Scar turns. "Okay," he breathes, and drags a hand over his eyes to cloak them both in darkness, and sags back until his skull knocks against the cabinet door with a dull, tender thunk. Each exhale emerges as a series of shaky puffs, damming up his lungs and swallowing all the air in his esophagus. Scar shudders, scrapes his bitten-down nails against iron, and breathes with the roiling of his gut. "... Okay."

When he opens his eyes again, Grian's ghost has vanished.

The spot it occupied is still frigid when he waves a trembling hand through it; Scar inhales, exhales, inhales again. Rinse and repeat, the perfect cycle, the mantra against extraneous thought. Then, solemn and deliberate, he holds the kettle out in front of him, trailing one wandering finger over its dents and bruises, tracing the paths between the known and the new.

"Guess I'll see you there," he tells it, and lifts its grubby handle up in absent toast.

High above, the bleeding sun strikes noon at last. Scar does not harvest the sunflowers.

[luveline]

hi jade <3 can you pls write an “idiots in love” scenario between fem!reader and peter. something really gushy and fluffy <333

hi baby <3 I'm really sorry I think I may have misunderstood this so they're idiots in love but they aren't together yet !! fem!reader, 1k

Peter's dragging you by the hand through the crowd like one might dangle a carrot on a stick, though you aren't sure what it is he's hoping to attract in the sticky floored Burger King you're dominating. 

"Coming through!" he shouts, shouldering past people in a way that isn't strictly polite. 

You're laughing so hard your waist aches and the tether of your hand is a necessary precaution to stop you collapsing into a baby stroller. The greasy bag of your spoils quivers with a paper crunching as it whacks some poor bystander in the arm, your "Sorry," a swallowed shout in the busyness. 

Finally, you arrive at your destination. Broken crayons and tear away colouring pages splayed messily over a table hidden in the corner of the room, and there, nestled between the chaos, a precious diamond in the rough, lays the true purpose of your visit to such a fine dining establishment on such a hot summer's day. The Burger King crowns lay in their pop put forms, thick printed card stock. 

"They were more impressive when we were kids," you say.

"They're rustic." Peter drops your hand and gathers up way more crowns than you. "Understated. Humble, even." 

"Yeah," you say, giggles emerging once again. 

Peter tucks the crowns into your bag and you leave the way you came through herds of disgruntled New Yorkers and out into the summer heat, dipping into shadows as the glaring yolk of sun dips behind a skyscraper. Peter leads you deep into a cold alleyway and fiddles with the shooter at his wrist. 

"You're sure you won't drop me?" you ask, taking the paper bag of burgers and cradling it against your chest like a child. 

"You think you're so heavy," Peter complains, wrapping an arm around your waist. 

"I am heavy, Pete. A normal guy could pick me up, much less carry me onto a rooftop." 

"I'm not a normal guy." Chest to chest, Peter gives you a shameless smirk. "Hold on tight. I won't drop you, but if you drop even a single French fry, I'll be tempted." 

"Don't even joke about thAT–" your words turn to a breathless hoot as Peter thwicks his wrist upward and the two of you careen through the air. 

"It's alright!" Peter shouts. 

"Woah woah woah!" you shout back, strangling him as you try to climb up his arms and away from the bottomless air below you. Another thwick and you climb higher. A swing that takes the air out of your lungs ends with a jogging stop on a gravel rooftop. "Woah, I'm gonna chuck up." 

Peter rubs between your shoulders. "You always say that." 

"I'm dying." 

"Don't crouch like this, you're begging to be sick." 

Peter helps you up, close and smelling like all things nice. Laundry detergent from a stickler of a laundry sheriff, deodorant and aftershave and the sweet burned sugar smell of his unwise experiments. 

The rooftop is one you've come to before, wide, abandoned, but outfitted with two camping chairs that can be dragged into or out of the sun depending on what half you sit on. You drag your chairs into the sun once your nausea has abated and sit down, Burger King bag in your lap. Peter peels the straps of your tote down enough to grab your unmanufactured crowns, his fingertips summoning an odd shyness from you while they touch you. He's familiar to the point of seamlessness, usually; you and Peter may as well be one person. But now every close encounter, each gentle hand on your skin, is demarcated by a fizzy excitement you can't ignore. 

Peter hooks his chair with an ankle blindly, dragging it under his butt as he sits and pops crowns from their cardstock holdings. He guesses the sizing for your head, and props a golden crown on your head while you retrieve his cheeseburger. It slips down your nose. 

"Woah," Peter murmurs, leaning in to nudge it back up. He looks you right in the eye, close enough to kiss. "Hi there." 

"Hello, good sir," you say, eyeing his own crown. 

"Your majesty," he corrects. 

"Your majesty. Take your burger." 

"Where are my fries?" 

"The crown suits you, I think, considering you're a royal pain. Give me five seconds and I'll give you your fries, jerk." 

Peter's eyes squint gently closed in a slow blink, eyebrows raised. "Jerk. Nice. You're a royal dick." 

"Nice!" You pass him his fries, and the ketchup dip. "We should've got milkshakes." 

"Then you really would throw up." 

"You're probably right," you say, leaning back into the chair, the sun warming your cheeks like a lingering kiss. You tip your head back to eat a handful of soggy fries, salt like an explosion on your tongue. 

"Christ," Peter says, fries in one hand, burger in the other, "they're trying to give us heart disease!" 

"I was thinking the exact same thing," you laugh. 

Peter nods, pleased to be on the same wavelength, and curls your legs together, elbows bumping as you eat with all the laziness of rich people poolside at the country club. The subtle crunch of fries, the crinkling paper bag held under your foot to stop from flying away on the breeze. New York doesn't need anymore litter. 

You give up on your salty fries and Peter doesn't ask, he doesn't need to, polishing them off. His metabolism is enhanced in time with his healing and regenerative abilities, his stomach an endless pit. 

"You should've gotten another burger," you say. 

"You should mind your business." 

"Is it 'cos I was paying?" 

Peter dunks your crown down your face, kisses your cheek, and steals another handful of your fries. "Too slow." 

You laugh and tip your head until the crown falls off. The wind picks it up, and Peter throws his wrist forward without looking, catching it in a web before it can fly off. Burgers, laughter, the flirting sun and an accompanying breeze. Things are perfect. 

You look at Peter as he tries to pull his web from the crown without ruining it. He gives up, grabbing a new one from your tote. 

Well, things are almost perfect.

[blufox234isadumbname]

made some new designs cause i wanted to spice my girls' designs a little

i just kinda wanted to add a little more on teh design i had before, i (simple dress over shirt), its kinda hard to balance casual clothes with gymnast attire but i think its ok. i also added design elements from both her parents slime and mariana (mango squares from mariana, apples slices from slime). i ttried to make her based off of apple and mango chutney but i think it kinda loses there. its fine tho i love her very much. she also has matchign friendship bracelet with Tilin ;;;;

codeflippa is basically her design is TOO slime inspired since thats her only parent to focus on. combined with way too much angularity and very wrong details (wrong shirt, no leotard, wrong friendship bracelet on wrong hand, wrong horns, etc.) its like if codie was looking at juana like a mirror. the bottom face showing the jawbone is inspoed from @/alienssstuff 's codeflippa design (its olso where i inspoed the goopy yolk wings and horns) and also in general when she is in shadow her teeth will show (its kinda a nice touch considering iirc mariana's swing was at her head height). she wears mariana's scarf that slime kept in a dusty chest cause he definitely didnt miss him. she puts it on after the first task stream cause she feels the scars are to offputting to slime..

[casey-wont-eat-paste]

I’m gonna be talking about the finale of season three so if you don’t want spoilers scroll on

They all cleared out? Good.

Honestly, I felt kind of disappointed with the finale, the battle was great, the buildup and the resolution of the characters that we have grown to know and love throughout the series was great, but.

And this is a really big but.

The actual finale of the show, the last few minutes we got with these characters, not Nine or Thorn or Dread or Rebel but the characters we started out with Sonic, Tails, Knuckles, Amy, and Rouge felt bland. it made the entire series feel inconsequential, the way that everything was just better now, Sonic and Shadow were the only ones who learned anything, and we have no resolution to any of the other storylines. What happened in New York now that the egg are taken down? What adventures does captain Rose lead her crew on? How does the boscage maze grown to live in Harmony? Is nine just living in isolation now? And how do each of these universes function without their respective prism shards?

Of course, none of these questions take in the theory that each of the shatter spaces was a part of Greenhill, that each of the characters are a part of the ones that Sonic knows them as, but I feel like that theory would be better illustrated if we got a little more time with the og characters, If they could talk about this weird shared dream, Or contemplate the validity of their memories. Or if the characters themselves didn’t want to address it they could have the visual image of the shatter spaces colliding into each other.

I appreciate the hug that sonic gave Eggman, I think that was cute and funny but the fact that the battle proceeded with basically no consequences felt bland.

Overall the finale felt incomplete for me, but feel free to debate me on this, I’m actually really interested to see other people’s opinions of this finale.

Anyway here’s my interpretation of how I think an extra few minutes in the show could’ve gone.

We open up on New Yolk in shambles, robots are destroyed, the buses and trains that were used for transportation are powered off and the people are celebrating. The oppressive rule of the egg is no more and they are finally free. They establish a democracy or other political system, and their entire worlds technology is set back due to the absence of the prism shard, people are hopeful, there is a future for New Yolk, one that is safe for everyone.

Captain Rose collaboratively, with her pirate crew, decides to hunt for a new treasure, discovering other people, the mainland, and the giant gemstone said to hold immense power.

The scavengers live at peace with the forest, taking what they need and learning to give back as well, protecting its life from the inside.

nine lives in isolation, but slowly realizes that if he looks far enough there are inhabitants in the grim (because I refuse to believe there’s just this incomplete universe) and he’s able to make friends, even if it’s difficult

And Sonic knows, he knows he made a huge mistake and that he was lucky to fix it. Shadow knows to. But sonic has his friends, he has his friends he knows he can rely on and that he needs to listen to. And together, nothing can stop them.

(Or yk nine could be a interdimensional superhero who makes sure that other universes don’t break like his almost did, whatever you want)

[the-sky-queen]

A Spark Soaring Down Through the Pouring Rain - Chapter 7 - Sky_Queen - Sonic the Hedgehog - All Media Types [Archive of Our Own]

NEW CHAPTER TIME!!!

Today is all about the aftermath and consequences of Momentum’s rescue, as well as finally officially giving him his name! Enjoy!!

[lingwe3nie]

Sonic prime is such an interesting show

“Yea yea sonics the hero but what would happen if his FRIENDS’ most valuable traits were missing?”

“What if tails lost his loyalty?”

New Yolk City

“What if Amy lost her compassion”

Boscage Maze

“What if Knuckles lost his sense of responsibility?”

No land

“What if shadow had succeeded in wiping out all humans from the land?”

The grim

The most important question

“What if we gave Rouge fun outfits in every single time period?”

[ab121500]

So, i realize its been a minute since i yelled about prime but i just gotta ask.

Can someone please explain to me why the hell they chose BIG THE CAT instead of say, idk, OMEGA???

Last i checked (granted, i havent looked at the sonic fandom in ages so i could be wrong and thats okay!) EVERYONE hated Big. I still hate big, his levels are the WORST part of sonic adventure. To the point that his shit is the only thing i have left in that fucking game.

If they wanted someone from the games, Omega was right there! Hes even in the same games as big! More even! Sure, he might not work in the Maze but then just... leave him out?? Omega's still pretty big in the comics, hes a fan favorite, and like. I need to see Rebel and New Yolk!Omega together.

They did him so dirty. Idk why sega is like "eh team dark sucks we shouldn't use em anywhere." They nerfed the hell out of shadow and forgot Omega. At least Rouge gets some recognition, but how much of that is the fact shes the only other girl character besides Amy everyone likes/is older. Cream is liked, but then they have to remember chao exist and shes like 6, idk what the badger from Boom's deal is (if she was in the games or not. But sega wants us to forget sonic boom and yknow thats valid) they remember Blaze every now and again. (Ik theres a bunch in the comic, but im counting ones in the actual games)

But noooo lets add fucking BIG. Why not espio? Or Vector? I would be less mad at Charmy. Hell, fucking use Jet or any of the other birds from Riders! Or silver! Justice for Silver man, he had such a shitty game and now sega doesn't like saying he was a thing.

Anyway, i'm mad that there was no team dark interaction in Prime. Only that little bit at the end with Shadow and Rouge. No omega, no reaction from shadow about ghosty Rouge (fight me, they're friends! Thats not even a headcannon!) nothing. Gah.

I miss Omega :( but god i hate playing heroes its so cluncky. I'll do what i must for my boy.

[drowning-in-webnovel-chapters]

Sonic Prime is a perfect intro show for new Sonic fans and annoying for anyone who pays attention to the plot

Sonic prime shows off Sonic characters in a way that is digestible to new fans without dumping an entire legacy's worth of lore on them.

In the beginning we are told directly by Sonic what his relationship with each character is, showing us the characters from his perspective, while giving us a brief understanding of their background and how they met Sonic.

And I know what you're probably thinking, the original versions of the characters (other than Sonic and Shadow) are barely in the show at all, how could they be shown off if they're not in it? And of course, you're right, they're not in it, but that's the point.

The different versions of the Sonic characters are not just separate characters entirely; they are the same character in a different situation that caused them to change. And this change is what makes the show so perfect for new fans, because each variant shows off emphasized parts of each character.

Take Knuckles for example, in New Yolk Renegade is shown to be extremely determined to single mindedly complete their one goal and is very consistently loyal to Rebel while being unwilling to trust anyone else easily. He's also shown to be very brave and strategic in battle; All traits that Knuckles Prime exhibits but exaggerated to a larger extent to help get the point across.

In Boscage Maze Gnarly is representative of Knuckles naivety, showing how he can misinterpret things or be misled; often thinking with his fists or his stomach instead of his brain. And again, exaggerated to get the point across.

Now Dread is where they really shine, Dread perfectly shows off Knuckles' obsession with the Master Emerald, without even mentioning or showing the Master Emerald at all; Using the prism shard as a stand-in for the Master Emerald. It shows off how far he'd go to get it back, it shows how often he doesn't care about how his actions will affect those around him as long as he gets it back. Dread shows us how Knuckles will isolate himself to keep the master emerald/prism shard safe. He fully introduces us to Knuckles' relationship to the Master Emerald without having to explain any of the lore that comes with it.

Each of the variants have examples like this, of introducing a main facet of the original character in an extreme and unsubtle way. Thorn Rose shows Amy's anger at anyone who harms nature, and her tendency to refuse to change her mind and be stubborn if she believes she is in the right. Rebel emphasizes Rouge leadership skills when leading the rebellion/team dark, and ability to be strategic inside and out of combat regardless of her own emotions. And Sails represents Tails' loyalty and belief in his friends. (Im not gonna touch on Nine bc there's a million and one analyses of his character already)

All of this, plus the ghost versions that straight up tell us their core values, and using the concept of "going through different places to find magical rocks" makes for a show that perfectly introduces new Sonic fans to the characters and basis of the world without spoiling or overloading them with lore and explanations.

Its enough to get us intrigued by the characters, while leaving plenty to still be explored and learned about in which ever way we want.

The movies are also an intro to Sonic, but they lose a lot of points by being separate from the canon Sonic universe, introducing a lot of rules and concepts that aren't true in the canon Sonic lore, that it leaves people feeling confused or misled when trying to get into the rest of the series.

I can say that cuz its exactly what happened to me. I watched the movies, got interested, looked at the rest of the fandom, got confused, and decided to interact with only Movie Sonic content. Until I watched Prime.

Prime introduced me to all the original main characters (unless u count Silver or Blaze) and their aspects and relationships, as well as the canon universe. (and the ships which may have been a driving force for me joining the fandom but just ignore that)

If you want to get someone into Sonic id recommend two methods based on my own experience.

1. If they're hesitant about it/feel like its too cringe, start them with the movies, then a game that's fun to play but not story driven, and then make them watch prime

2. If they're not too hesitant/already in fandoms similar, show them prime and your personal favorite game, let them chose which one they want to do first and boom you got a new sonic fan!