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kentuckywrites · 4 months

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The End of All Things - REWRITE

On July 6th, 2018, I succumbed to some self indulgence. Six years later, let's do it again. Featuring @deltheor 's Sydney ~

Pongo knew.

The official BLADE report never made it into the public eye, but he knew Elma, and Elma knew everything, so he got the information out of her. While Pongo had been out on a forced vacation, Sydney had Brainjacked seventy percent of NLA’s population and had taken them to Cauldros, where he’d set himself up in a Ganglion fortress to play the role of false king. Elma showed him the witness reports, people recounting being controlled, people recounting their efforts to stop him. An elite team of Brainjack users were able to take him down, in the end, but even that almost hadn’t been enough.

The rumors spread like a disease throughout NLA. He still walks among us, Pongo once heard. He’s been stripped of his rank, so hopefully he won’t be allowed anywhere near a knife again. I saw him in the residential district once - do you think he’s planning how to do it again?

It hurt. The rumors had nothing to do with Pongo, yet he still felt their sting. He could only imagine how deeply it was affecting Sydney.

In the end, the rumors and the official reports combined were enough for Pongo to make a decision.

He pulled out his comm device and called Sydney just after noon. Someone had given Pongo his number a long time ago, long enough that Pongo couldn’t quite remember who it was. Sydney didn’t respond. Frantic, Pongo kept dialing and calling, dialing and calling, dialing and calling, come on Sydney why won’t you pick up -

“The fuck do you want?!”

And suddenly, everything Pongo had planned to say vanished into thin air. Gods above, Sydney’s anger was something to behold. Pongo knew he had to be quick, or Sydney would hang up.

“H-Hi, Sydney,” Pongo started. “We, um…we need to talk.”

“We’re talking right now, dipshit.”

Damn it. Damn him. Pongo released a shaky breath, trying to keep himself composed. “I meant in person. This is not something I can talk to you about over the comm device.”

“I’m busy. You should spit it out and stop wasting my time -”

“Not over the comm device.”

Pongo hadn’t meant for his tone to get so strained, so forceful. Sydney didn’t respond immediately, and he almost wondered if the (former?) Interceptor had hung up after that little outburst. However, after a moment of silence, he got a response.

“Alright, fine. When would you like to plan our little date?”

Pongo swallowed hard. No, Pongo, it is not a date. Do not get your hopes up. He shook his head, then responded, “Well, um…do you know of that elevator by the West Gate? The one that leads to the very top of the walls of NLA?”

The location held many good memories for Pongo; that was the same elevator he’d taken down to the Industrial District, the very first time he’d stepped foot into the city. Back then, he had no idea who he was, or who he was meant to be. In recent months Pongo found himself revisiting the location, if only to reminisce on the past. Others had called this insight into himself and the hearts of others a blessing, and perhaps he could use this talent to…well. To see Sydney.

“I know the place,” Sydney said, again knocking Pongo out of his stray thoughts.

“Would you be able to meet me there tonight? Maybe around eight?” Pongo asked.

“Sure, I guess. See ya then.”

“Right,” Pongo said, but the dial tone hit his ears before he had gotten his full response out. With a sigh, his hand lowered, and pressure built behind his eyes. Shoving his comm device in his back pocket, he looked to the horizon. The sun was high above him, a promise that the day was still young. It would be a painful wait until the appointed hour arrived.

Pongo found himself waiting at the bottom of the elevator fifteen minutes before eight. This corner of the city was quieter than he expected, but then again, this was the Industrial District. Outfitters, arms manufacturers, and construction workers hurried about the district in a mad frenzy. The chaos usually calmed his nerves; he felt at home in the hustle and bustle, the high energy that came with BLADE’s intellectual conquests. Yet tonight, as he’d been walking towards the meeting point, Pongo had briefly considered getting a drink at the Repenta Diner. Frye had once told him that spiking a coffee wasn’t out of the ordinary, and Pongo had seen first-hand how alcohol soothed aching hearts.

This was something he needed to be sober for, though, so in the end, Pongo had gotten a water from the diner. He’d nursed it in his hands and had taken two sips before discarding the cup. He wish he’d kept it now, as he had nothing to do with his hands aside from wringing them together. Sweat built beneath his palms, the friction of his gloves providing some level of distraction from his own thoughts. Funny, how he allowed himself to feel this. Funny, how it didn’t serve to distract him from the truth.

“Pongo? Helloooo? Anybody home in there?”

Pongo blinked a few times, and when he regained focus, he saw Sydney standing right in front of him. How long had he been standing there?! Gods above, Pongo was out of it, huh? He could even smell Sydney’s cologne - it was one of his favorites. Jasmin, saffron, cedarwood. An expensive blend. Pongo stepped back, his heart fluttering under his chest.

He did not wear this for you. Stop it.

“H-Hi,” Pongo stammered, “sorry about that, I just…”

“Lost in your own head?” Sydney guessed, raising one of his pierced eyebrows in annoyance. “Happens, I guess.”

“Right. Yeah,” Pongo grinned sheepishly, finally making eye contact with Sydney. What was the human saying again, something about eyes being windows to the soul? If that was the case, Pongo could see through Sydney, and in that brief moment, he saw the truth. Sydney was happy to see him.

That made Pongo want to cry.

“So what’s so important that you couldn’t tell me through comms, huh?” Sydney asked. “You’re an old-fashioned fucker if you prefer talking to people in person.”

“Then call me old-fashioned, I suppose,” Pongo laughed nervously, “I, um…I think this is going to be too important for comm messages, is all.”

“Guess I’ll be the judge of that,” he huffed, “so get on with it. I don’t have all night.”

Right, he said he was busy. Pongo needed to get to the point. But at the same time, BLADEs were flying past them both, some casting looks over their shoulders. Damn it, he should’ve thought about how busy it’d be here.

“We should find somewhere quieter,” he suggested, expecting some form of backlash.

To his surprise, however, Sydney shrugged. “Whatever floats your yacht.”

“I do not own a yacht.”

“...I’ll rent you one of mine, sometime. Maybe I’ll throw in a one percent discount on the rental fee, too.”

Pongo’s eyes started to sting as he held back tears. The offer sounded so genuine, so real. Do not get your hopes up.

“I would like that,” he said softly, feeling his heart begin to rip itself apart. He turned away from Sydney before he could say anything else.

Pongo stepped onto the elevator platform, using the controls to send it to the top floor after Sydney had embarked. It was a long way to the top, so once the elevator fence came up and they began to ascend, Pongo found himself sneaking a glance at Sydney. He was facing away, observing the city below. It was an array of colors and lights under the darkened sky, replacements for the stars that didn’t shine that night. Sydney’s head turned slightly, and Pongo could see those same lights reflected in his eyes. What a vibrant red they were, the color of power and blood and undying strength.

Red, the color of love.

The first tear fell. Pongo wiped it away with the back of his glove, wincing when he pulled his arm back. He’d done it too rough, and now his cheek hurt. Not enough to leave a bruise, but enough to leave a memory.

The elevator came to a stop at the top floor. Pongo stepped out once the railings came down without acknowledging Sydney. He came to rest his arms on the fencing along the platform, staring down at NLA. This was where Elma had taken him when he’d first entered the city, when Pongo was unsure about who and what he was. There was a kind of poetic satisfaction in returning here, a satisfaction in knowing that he had found himself.

Though…had he?

No. Pongo wasn’t here to throw himself a pity party. Just push the feelings down, as you always have and always will.

“So…” Sydney said, leaning back on the railing to Pongo’s right, “what do you want?”

Pongo didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he let it go in a shaky exhale. Maybe he could save himself. Maybe he could find a silly excuse and have Sydney get mad at him for wasting his time. Maybe he could find another way to get the answers he needed.

But he couldn’t do any of that in good conscience. He had to face this - and so did Sydney.

“Elma gave me access to the BLADE reports,” he finally said. “They, um…you Brainjacked over seventy percent of the population.”

Silence. Pongo didn’t have the strength to look up at Sydney, to gauge his reaction through his facial expressions. Yet the air shifted, a tension that was nearly unbearable. Pongo opened his mouth, too uncomfortable to remain quiet, but Sydney beat him to the punch.

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

A confession. Pongo gazed upwards at that, finding that Sydney had turned around to assume the same position as him. He was staring out at the city lights, his brow furrowed. From the profile, he looked…

He looked sad.

That was what Pongo had been searching for. That was the answer he needed.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Sydney spat out in response.

“Sydney -”

“I’m fine,” he repeated, sharper this time, “why do you even care?”

Because I care about you.

He couldn’t say that. He shouldn’t.

“Because Elma also told me you suffered some kind of amnesia afterwards,” Pongo answered, “that you did not remember most of the time in Cauldros. It just…from everything I heard, I do not think that the one who Brainjacked everyone was truly you.”

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Sydney’s voice rose, “Of course it was me!”

“No, no, Sydney, listen to me, that was not you -”

“SHUT UP!!”

Pongo flinched back at Sydney’s order. Sydney’s eyes were glazed over, tears trailing down his cheeks. He hunched over to hide his face, an ugly sob emanating from the back of his throat. It took every bit of willpower to resist rushing forward, to resist wrapping him up in a hug, to resist telling him that everything would be alright.

I will not be able to let go if I hold him now.

“I don’t even know why you wanted to see me,” Sydney nearly shouted as he straightened his spine, spinning around to finally face him. “You know what I did. The entire fucking city knows what I did, but I don’t even fucking remember what happened. What, did you wanna point and laugh at the asshole who ruined lives for shits and giggles?!”

“It was not you,” Pongo pleaded, unable to hold back his own tears.

“Then who the fuck do you think I am, huh?! Who are you to tell me who I am and what I’m capable of?! I’m a fucking monster -”

“You are not a monster!!” Pongo cried, “You are not the same person as the one who Brainjacked the city!!”

“Oooh, so that was a fucking clone who did that, then?!” Sydney retorted, “Answer the fucking question, asshole - who am I?!”

Pongo swallowed hard, forcing himself to stare into Sydney’s eyes. His makeup was starting to smear, a black tar staining his cheeks. As Pongo spoke, his voice rose, gaining more and more strength.

“You act vain and narcissistic and you hardly care about anyone other than yourself. You buy things because you think it makes you happy, but you are never happy, because you think you are undeserving of everything you have been given. You act as though you only care about yourself because you do not want anyone showing you the slightest hint of compassion, and it is because you are terrified, Sydney, you are terrified of being loved because you think you do not deserve it, but damn it Sydney you do!!”

“I don’t deserve shit,” Sydney faltered, but now Pongo was shouting, now he felt too deeply.

“YES YOU DO!! Are you living?! Breathing?! Then you deserve someone who loves you, someone who will be there for you through thick and thin, someone who sees past all of your flaws and sees you for your heart!! Fucking hell, Sydney, I lo-”

He caught himself.

“I know you deserve to be loved because I know you are a good person deep down!! Everyone deserves to be loved no matter how many times they have fucked up, and I will not sit back and watch you believe you are undeserving, because YOU ARE!!”

Pongo’s voice was cracking, a mirror to his heart. His breaths deep and painful, he stepped back, hitting the rail. The metal provided a cool sensation against his hands, welcome in the heated moment. Sydney looked shellshocked, eyes wide and unblinking. Pongo had never seen this expression before, and despite his fury, the sight made him near-nauseous. He had to close his eyes, a gentle breeze finally coming to soothe him, caressing the hair sticking to his face.

“The fact of the matter is that you have changed,” Pongo quietly said, controlling how his voice shook. “You put on the same act as before, but deep down…I see you, Sydney. I do.”

Silence, eternal. Pongo sighed. He couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t keep doing this. Getting attached, getting his heart broken when there was nothing left to break.

“I am sorry if you had somewhere else to be,” he apologized, “I got my answer. I will leave you alone, if that is what you want.”

Pongo let go of the railing, straightening his spine and turning back towards the elevator. The silence remained deafening, and his thoughts raced to devour it whole. His own voice echoed in his ears, remnants of his anger, reflections of his soul. The anger was not towards Sydney, he concluded quickly, but rather towards himself. How could Pongo have been so stupid, to get this close to Sydney? The happy-go-lucky Interceptor with a heart of gold, with friends in every corner of the city and beyond, a man who dreamed and hoped and wished for more. That was selfish. That was greedy. That was wrong. He wasn’t allowed to wish for a deeper connection because he was destined to love and never be loved in return. That was his punishment, his sentence, his -

A hand, quickly grasping his. Metal under his skin. A whisper, a plea in the dark.

“Don’t go.”

Pongo wasn’t strong enough to keep his gaze fixed forward. He looked to Sydney, to the quivering form that had stopped him from leaving. He was a shell - or perhaps, this was the original Sydney, the one who was showing his true colors after years and years of hiding in plain sight. And his true colors were beautiful in every sense, vibrant red and gold and white. His palm pressed in Pongo’s own was a dream, a hope, a wish come true.

Pongo looked down at their intertwined hands. He couldn’t. He couldn’t.

And yet…

Could he allow himself to be selfish, just this once?

He didn’t give himself enough time to answer that question. Pongo brought Sydney closer, wrapping his other hand around the back of Sydney’s neck, pulling him in, in, in - and their foreheads touched, skin upon skin. Pongo forced himself to keep the space between their mouths, though he cherished the small contact made between their noses. Do not get closer, he told himself, his last shred of control.

But the little voice in the back of his mind, once smothered, echoed out. You are allowed to want this.

His resolve finally shattered.

“Okay,” Pongo breathed. “I am here.”

And he sealed the distance between their lips.

Sydney was wearing lipstick, Pongo discovered, and he wondered if this sudden kiss would smudge it. It would certainly appear on Pongo’s mouth, and he battled with whether or not that was a point of excitement or defeat. He tilted his head ever so slightly, adjusting so he didn’t aggravate Sydney’s piercings. Sydney’s cologne overwhelmed him, that same mix of jasmin, saffron, cedarwood. Pongo could drink deep of it and never be satisfied.

But he pulled away, eventually - after he realized that Sydney was not reciprocating the kiss. Pongo didn’t meet Sydney’s gaze, everything crashing down on him all at once. He had to say something. He had to come up with an excuse. This is the end of everything. You never deserved to get this close, and now you have to pay for it.

“I am so sorry,” Pongo whispered, “I should have…I should have asked first. I know this would not work, but I just...”

He wiped his tears from his face, turning away. His heart had skipped several beats, and he wasn’t sure why the air suddenly felt so heavy, so constricting. He deserved it, still. He deserved to get smothered in the pain. Friend of the world, closest to none. How could someone like him ever hope for more?

The elevator was enticing, too enticing. But he told Sydney he was here, that he’d stay. The honor took hold of him, so his feet refused to move. Better for him anyways - he had to be here for the fallout, both self-inflicted and external. Gods, he should’ve left when he had the chance. He should’ve ripped his hand out of Sydney’s and spared them both the pain. How deeply, horribly selfish indeed. A hypocrite, a fool, and above all else -

Sydney’s hands found their way to Pongo’s cheeks and pulled him back in.

There they were, kissing under the moonlit sky. It took Pongo only a moment to recover from the initial shock, and then he crumbled, his defenses completely destroyed. One of Sydney’s hands shifted backwards, entangling in Pongo’s hair, and the other fell down to cup the space between his neck and shoulder. Pongo’s arms, out of desperation, wrapped themselves around Sydney’s hips to draw him in closer. He thought this would ground him, but instead he found his thoughts floating in a pastel haze.

Sydney was the first to pull away. Chasing the high, Pongo nearly followed his lips, but as they caught their breath, Pongo couldn’t hold back his relief. He laughed, soft and warm, keeping his hands around Sydney’s waist. Hells, he’d been right before - he couldn’t let go, now that he’d taken hold. He didn’t even realize he was crying until Sydney’s thumb came to trace the skin under his eye, wiping away a wet streak of newborn tears.

“I don’t know what this means,” Sydney whispered. “For you, for me…I don’t know what any of this means.”

“It does not have to mean anything if you do not want it to,” Pongo replied, his smile weak but honest.

“But I want this to mean something. You deserve that.”

“You deserve it, too. You always have.”

Sydney swallowed hard. “I…I don’t know if I believe you, yet. But I want to. Damn, do I want to.”

Pongo didn’t respond, but his smile strengthened. He knew Sydney believed that, and he’d do everything he could to prove him right. That he was deserving. That he was loved, loved so much that it hurt.

And maybe…maybe Pongo could believe that for himself, too. That he deserved the same.

They stared out into the city after that, hand in hand. The silence became their friend.

#xenoblade x #The End of All Things REWRITE: Short Story #sydney #yea. yeah #i dont really know what to put here tbh #damn this self indulgent shit...PART TWO #also if you saw this accidentally posted to my main acc #no you didnt! i fought tumbles and won!!

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crowleyholmes · 8 months

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Bonus:

Don't mind me, I was just thinking about how Crowley must feel every time Aziraphale seems to put him in a box with the rest of hell. I know he tells him he's nice and kind and good and his friend just as many times or more, but still - after 6000 years of friendship and Doing The Right Thing together, it must have hurt when Aziraphale told him he's evil, and then even more when he told him you're the bad guys.

I just find it sooo interesting to look into every instance of Aziraphale talking about Crowley in either way. I want to take his thought process apart and study it under a microscope. We know that he knows that Crowley isn't evil, and we know that Crowley knows that he knows, and we (and Crowley) know that Aziraphale (up until a certain point) is just incredibly Heaven-brainwashed and it's hard for him to break out of that unless there's a situation at hand that requires Direct Action (see giving away the flaming sword to protect Adam and Eve, or protecting Job's children, or helping Elspeth to help Dalrymple, or stopping the Apocalypse).

How does he travel the world and the ages with Crowley and still somehow manage to call him evil with any level of seriousness? He is so convinced that all demons are evil, and at the same time he knows that Crowley's fall was unjust and a mistake and Crowley is NOT evil, but Crowley is a demon, but he's good and kind and nice and just, and Aziraphale sometimes struggles with that. Not consciously, I think, consciously he loves Crowley and trusts him and knows him well enough to see beyond angel/demon good/evil black and white thinking, but sometimes thoughts slip out of his mouth that are just. So far removed from what we know he knows.

He believes so strongly, in two things that could not be more mutually exclusive, and it's so fascinating. There's a lot of growth in that regard over the course of the series, we know that by the end of season 2 when he's talking to the Metatron, he is very clear in stating that his priority and his loyalty lie with Crowley, not with heaven. And I hold firm to my belief that he is going to Heaven because That's The Right Thing To Do, because he believes he can Make Things Better, for everybody, yes, but most importantly for Crowley. For the two of them!!

And YET. AND YET "you're the bad guys" somehow comes out of his mouth, when Crowley has Never really been a part of hell, and has always wanted to do the right thing for as long as Aziraphale has known him, and has been free of hell for Years now.

Still, Crowley is a Demon, and Demons Are Evil, angels and demons are hereditary enemies, right?

Except.... it's a little different when it's someone you know, isn't it?

#good omens #good omens 2 #meta #or rather just me rambling a lot really #I feel like i put all this into words So Badly i'm not sure my point comes across #tbh i dont know if there is a point #i'm just so FASCINATED WITH HIS MIND #I feel like I understand Crowley so so so well #his every move makes perfect sense to me always #but with Aziraphale #I feel like I understand him for the most part but then sometimes he has moments that make me go????#WHAT was his thought process here #i just want to KNOW #i want to have an alcoholic breakfast at the ritz with michael sheen and just talk about Aziraphale tbh #okay whoops more rambling in the tags #let's tag this as #mine

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technicalthinker · 5 months

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The way I read the whole thing about the "finality" of Loki's ending, the "end of the journey", is that it is the end of Loki's journey. Ever since he's been introduced there has been a struggle and search for identity, questions about what his loyalty lie and what he wants.

The ending of Loki season 2 I believe answers a lot of these questions. It leaves Loki in a place where at least he knows who he is and what he wants, which arguably has been the biggest problem all along. His character development and arc is completed. I don't think it's the last we've seen from Tom Hiddleston's Loki, but I think his future appearances is going to be less about this internal struggle and need to grow as a person. There might still be questions and character moments, but more centered on how he interacts with other mcu characters (and what he can bring to their development), how he relates to the plot and how he gives perspective/scope/stakes to the overarching plot of the mcu moving forward.

#marvel blogging #loki spoilers #loki #loki laufeyson #marvel #i dont know what to make of the future of the mcu i have no idea whats happening here #im not sure im even THAT invested?#but it is interesting to think about #i can very much see Loki showing up and playing a role like (ironically) Dr Strange in Infinity War+Endgame.#like not a lot of PERSONAL things he needs to get over.#i also dONT think he'll get killed i dont think he cAN REALLY but i think he might be put out of play somehow #like he tries to intervene in the conflict and meets some other mcu characters but gets locked out somehow #like im thinking of how angels work in spn tbh like i can see him being sent back to the goddamn tree somehow using tech/bullshit magic

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greyeyedmonster-18 · 2 years

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(i just wanted to pass along a little thank you for everyone.

i am actually still baffled that a lot of yall are still here now that we're in month...idk 4 of no fics or barely fandom stuff? Really since July, I haven't posted much of anything and idk.

thanks for sticking around in hopes that I'll write other things again some day! we appreciate it!

we appreciate the continued comments on my fics

i see that NMTW is a breath away from 800 kudos which is fucking wild to me. a fic i thought no one would like, literally not a single soul would like.

ten reasons is making the rounds in a little fan fic book club?? which is ????i cannot.

even my moonchaser fics are getting some love; and the fic that shall not be named

so a thank you to all the folk who have gone back to re-read old fics and scroll through my blog and comment/reply/send an ask that says "wow this is still lovely!"

thank you <3)

#but to be quite honest #i dont have any wolfstar ideas in my head #i want to write a starking but idk if that'll happen #and i know ive made jokes about retiring from writing #and retiring in general tbh lololol #but like it feels like it might be true this time around #so many things have happened in my life over the past year #for the good and for the wild and I'm in a transition point right now #and im trying to figure out how fanfic fits into that--how my romance fits into that #idk yall #im also not just being melodramatic about this either #i remember last year at this time i was editing and posting CMA #and writing NMTW #and had weekly dribbles being put out here and artwork???#helllloo remember when i drew?#so much of my life has shifted #and as someone who has always written romance as a way to find hope in love stories that...arent exactly love stories #im finding that i really need to invest myself in my own real life love stories atm #because like...head in the clouds and i get caught up in the STORY of it without. knowings whats real #not only that but like...no plot bunnies. none.#i think i was searching for something here when i started writing fanfic #maybe?#idk.#but i also think maybe i found it.#thanks for sticking around in the meantime though

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qasian-tech-support · 5 months

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Please ignore if I clicked the wrong blog to respond to.

But I also want new Megas and Protomen :(

RIGHT?!?!

I mean, yeah, the Megas also have their takes on Skullman's theme ("Cracked Skulls"; inspired by MM4) and Chill Penguin's theme ("Chill XMas"; inspired by MMX), and I guess there's also one based on Storm Eagle's theme ("Rougmer Storm"; MMX), but I haven't listened to that one yet.

Like, I get that they have a good story arc to cover the first 3 classic games, but it would be so cool if they explored some of the themes of the following games, y'know? Or flesh out the MMX or other series music! Or hell, pick and choose some Robot Masters and make a new narrative, or like literally anything, please, people are starving over here! And it's not like they aren't still active. Don't get me wrong, I love their Castlevania stuff under the Belmonts label, but it would be nice to get Mega Man content outside of just remixes/remasters of their existing songs. Plus, they're still doing concerts, so like the audience is there for it!

And as for the Protomen, I hope that they actually end up releasing Act III at some point. Having listened to The Fight, it makes me crave it to an unhealthy degree. I love the grimdark kinda take on Mega Man that focuses more on the role that humanity takes in all of the conflict. I feel like that angle gets extremely neglected in Mega Man media.

Idk, as a fan, it's just kinda frustrating how neglected mega man gets. Like, it feels like the rare times whenever we do get content, it focuses on the first three or four games (if we're lucky), and then it just dies off! Or goes dormant for a decade or more. The franchise has so much creative potential that just isn't realized and it's so sad!

#hoping praying everyday for more #oh god and like just how foundational both bands have been for the creative efforts for the classic series #the archie comic even references The Megas a few times!! I GAVE YOU HAIR (ROBOTIC HAIR)#imagine the potential with a Bass focused narrative! or Quint! or Dr Cain!!#and Capcom themselves arent free from scorn here. if they encouraged more creative efforts a la the archie comic it could stimulate #even more interest in the series beyond just jumping and shooting. like that helps to build an evergreen fanbase #and i mean more than just XDiVE. like i find XDiVE charming yeah but like. Im not seeing the profits from being put back into mega man stuff #having friends that have gotten me back into transformers really makes me reflect on Mega Man. i get that transformers has toylines and MM #is more game focused and that def makes a difference but like. the amount of comic series and issues that help flesh out the transformers #universes. for MM we get like 55 issues for archie? 'indefinite hiatus'? bro we know the sonic stuff brought MM down with it just say 'dead'#let IDW take up the license and get Ian Flynn to come back. i know we likely wont get ArchieOCs like Tempo back but like #idk.... it hurts bc i know how good of a job the archie comics were. its hard to imagine a reboot that isnt basically identical in story to #archie. esp bc how much love was put into tying in with the side content like the hand held games. but surely something could be done #somehow it could be continued. find some kind of Genesis Wave-esque mcguffin to change the OCs out. retcon the sonic stuff out completely #i really dont want to see MM1—MM3 needing to be revisited *again*. its like a Dr.Wily/Sigma in their own right for how much it comes back #like thats prob what kills a lot of creative endeavors tbh. the themes and events are so foundational that theyre nigh inescapable #I'm just.... tired..#i have so much love for mega man and so many chains holding that love down

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icypaws · 11 months

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I think I'm gonna start using my Tumblr more often again. I would always just reblog and fav stuff till the purge happened, then I just kinda stopped using it. Recently with Twitter being the hot mess that it is, I've realized Tumblr is still just as fun as I left it.

Art was made off Picrew, unfortunately I don't have the link anymore, but if I find it I'll try to post it again

#furry #furryfandom #fox #foxes #blue #icy #icypaws #valen #icyvalen #i really dont know what to put tbh #i dont normally do tags #i can really just put anything in here huh #gordan freeman died in all dogs go to heaven 2

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atsu-i · 8 months

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Hello, I just saw the anon ask talking about you not being on tumblr that much anymore and we don't really talk to eachother (I think we only ever exchanged messages once), but I wanted to say, while I can, that I have wonderful memories of this website and a lot of them include seeing the mangacaps that you reblog or reading your tags, including all of the occasional venting and even some of the adorable auntie stories.

If you allow me to ramble a little bit, I want to talk about the blog that you called "shitty" and how I think it is actually really cool.

You might not think that you do much because you mostly just reblog stuff, but I feel like all the mangacaps that you reblog are more meaningful than most people think. I think that they are an act of self-expression and throughout the years I've felt like those kinds of posts express a desire that people have to be more honest with their feelings and put them out into the world. I've felt like the mangacaps, combined with all of your text posts, probably do accomplish some of this.

I am not going to say that your blog changed how I view life or anything like that, but I can say that your blog, along with many other similar ones, have seriously been a part of my journey of better understanding myself.

For example, today I liked a post that had a guy feeding a cat in it. And I didn't like the post because the art was amazing. I liked it because I thought that the guy is gentle and that aspect of gentleness resonated with me personally. And obviously, there are times where I might like a post just because I think that the art looks cool, but I think that a lot of times when I'm browsing through tumblr I'm just learning more about myself through the things that I like.

Maybe the whole thing isn't supposed to be that deep, but sometimes (not always) for me it is. I think that this whole thing feels unreal for you because you don't put a lot of effort but I think that it is pretty cool that a bunch of people like the blog despite that.

As always, have a nice day and drink some water.

;-;