#and I wonder about how the rest of the world looks at the USA right now | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

warriorlid14 · 9 days ago

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from the ashes

Marco knew he had hit rock bottom when Jake, of all people, was lecturing him about mental health.

Jake, who had once spent an entire month without so much as stepping foot outside his apartment, not even to get groceries. Jake, who they’d literally had to throw off a cliff to snap him out of his depression. The same guy who wouldn’t recognize mental stability if it rammed him like- well, like a ship ramming through a blade ship.

“I’m just saying,” Jake continued. “The physical labor has really done wonders. I haven’t felt this well since- well, you know. Maybe something similar could help you, too?”

Three months ago when they arrived back on earth, they found out that apparently the U.S. Government had been none too pleased that they’d stolen a spaceship and hijacked two of their morph-capable soldiers. Jake, ever their noble, self-sacrificing fearless leader took the fall. Technically, he was a felon. He was also the world’s biggest hero, so he’d gotten a slap on the wrist.

He was on probation and had to complete hundreds of hours of community service. Currently, he was helping the rebuilding process of a neighborhood that had been destroyed by a forest fire a couple of hours out from the city. Naturally, his absolute lunatic of a best friend had taken it as a wellness retreat.

“Mhm, yeah. Totally,” Marco said. He slurped the rest of his double espresso (quadruple espresso? Did it count as four if he’d had two of the drinks?) without even looking up from his notes. “So is this before or after we build libraries in underprivileged countries?”

“Marco-”

“No, it’s very noble and all,” Marco said, standing up. “But alas, I am but a very busy man so I’ll see when I can fit it into my schedule. Call my assistant to check in. Linda, you’ve met her right? Just hired her.”

Jake sighed. “C’mon man, you know I’m only trying to help. Quite honestly, you look like shit.”

Marco finally deigned to meet his eyes, a mock indignant look on his face. “Excuse you, I’ve been ranked in the Top 10 sexiest men two years in a row now. One which I wasn’t even on earth, thank you very much.”

He knew he was being an ass. An obnoxious one at that. Jake looked genuinely concerned. But this wasn’t how their roles worked. Jake was the tortured war hero. Marco was… well, he was one of the sexiest men in the country. If only according to Teen Magazine USA. Whatever.

“Not to kick you out or anything, but I do need my beauty sleep. Gotta be well-rested for the new gig tomorrow.” An obvious lie, indicated by the two empty mugs of coffee and the dark circles under his eyes. Nothing a little make-up in the morning couldn’t fix.

Jake stood up as well, gathering himself to leave. “You don’t have to do this, you know. You can just take a break.”

“And I would! If I needed one. Goodnight, Jake.”

But Marco quickly found that he was wrong. The next night, flipping through channel after channel showing his very public, very humiliating mental breakdown during the live premier of the game show he was hosting that morning, he knew that this was his rock bottom.

……

Tobias was hungry. Which unfortunately wasn’t an unusual occurrence. Not for the last three months at least.

He’d left his territory unguarded for almost a year and a half, and a younger, opportunistic hawk had taken it over in his absence. He’d considered fighting her off, but he had spent over a year in a cramped spaceship, feeding on frozen mice and rats with no ability to hunt or fly. He’d gotten rusty, grown soft.

And, if he was being completely honest, he was getting old. His once vivid red feathers were fading, and he was slower than he once was. He grew tired faster than usual, and had to endure the occasional body ache. He couldn’t prove it, but could swear his eyesight was weaker.

So, Tobias had been forced to find a territory on the outskirts of the hork-bajir valley. It was smaller and closer to a major highway. The wildlife, and therefore his food supply, was more limited. Not that a plentiful food supply would make much of a difference if he couldn’t catch anything.

The only benefit to being this close to a highway, though he’d never admit it to anyone, was that there was an ample supply of roadkill.

With a mental sigh he flew towards the highway, past his territory, past a couple of scurrying mice he knew he was too slow to catch. Past the property Marco had bought years ago, a place to stay in when he or the others had business in the valley.

It was usually empty, but today, a moving truck was parked in the driveway. At the sight, Tobias veered back, curious. The back of the truck was open, and a second later, a gorilla jumped off, carrying five badly-taped moving boxes in its burly arms.

Tobias flew closer, within thought-speak range, and called out, ((You know you could make a killing as a mover.))

It was a testament to how often they heard other people’s voices in their heads that Marco barely flinched at his words. He looked up at him as Tobias swooped down and landed on the truck.

((I’ll keep that in mind,)) Marco said, and continued up the driveway. He set the boxes inside the open doorway.

((So, what are you doing here unloading a moving truck? You’re not moving in, are you?)) Tobias asked, cocking his head at Marco.

((Needed a sabbatical,)) Marco said with a shrug. Tobias paused for a second.

((In the middle of nowhere, Wyoming?))

((Oh, you know, nature does wonders for the soul and all.)) Marco waved his hand in the air dismissively before jumping back into the truck and unloading two more boxes.

Tobias looked at him quizzically, waiting for Marco to elaborate, but he didn’t. Something was definitely up with him, but Tobias knew better than to pry.

Marco dropped off the boxes at the doorway and turned to him. ((So, are you going to just stand there, or are you going to come and help?))

Tobias considered leaving and resuming his attempt at finding lunch for that day. He glanced at the boxes strewn around the patio and mentally sighed. He fluttered down to the floor and began to morph.

……

Marco sat in his bathtub, a bottle of wine in hand. He wasn’t sure how long he had sat there, staring blankly ahead, but it had been long enough that his fingers were starting to prune.

He hadn’t done much more than lounging around for the past couple of weeks. Hadn’t even set a foot outside of his house.

Whatever. He needed a break. And he didn’t really want to see or talk to anyone anyway.

His friends and family didn’t seem to get the memo, however, as both his house phone and his cell phone rang a couple of times a day. The caller ID always showed Jake or Cassie or his mom. He texted them all an “I’m fine. Stop calling” a couple of times, but he knew that wouldn’t hold up for much longer. He was almost offended that the most he had gotten from his so-called celebrity friends had been two separate “thinking of you” text messages until he remembered he didn’t particularly care.

His dad never called.

With every day that passed, Marco became more bitterly resigned that he would likely not hear from his father for a very long time. Maybe not ever. Not without Marco being the first to reach out at least, and like hell that would happen. He didn’t feel like being kicked out of his former house once again, thank you very much.

It was a sick sort of funny, that this was how he lost one of his parents. Not to death. Not to the yeerks. Not to resentment of Marco letting his mom remain a controller for so long. Not to the lies and secrets he’d held onto for years.

No, it was for one stupid comment. One selfish declaration Marco had made so many years ago, hoping that it would bring his parents closer together.

Load of good that did. It was barely a year after the war that the cracks in their newly reunited family started showing. And a year after that that his parents had gotten divorced. And then it was all, “Oh Marco, we both love you so much” and “Oh, Marco, nothing has to change.”

Bullshit. It was all a load of bullshit. Funny, wasn’t it? He had tried so hard. Had gone to hell and back hundreds of times. Had been dismembered and shot at and psychologically tortured for so fucking long, all to get them together again. To be the family they once were.

And they couldn’t keep it together for even two fucking years. Marco took a long swig of the bottle of wine.

He didn’t care that he was being immature or ridiculous, being an adult and still caring this much about his parents’ divorce. Being this affected about his dad going back to Nora, fucking Nora. Especially when compared to the turmoil of his mom’s death and enslavement. But dammit, with the way he’d had to grow up since the war, no, since his mom’s supposed death, he’d earned a lifetime of immaturity, hadn’t he?

The media didn’t think so.

Okay, so maybe he’d snapped a little bit. Whatever. It had been one day. Just one bad day and now his entire reputation, and his reputation-dependent career, had gone down the drain. He should have known better.

The day of The Incident he had been sleep deprived and running on caffeine, adrenaline, and not an insignificant amount of anxiety. He had been irritable. Snappish. Just minutes before going on air, one of the crew had approached him from behind. Marco had flinched, turned around with a snarl, already morphing gorilla before he realized what he was doing.

It had been the look of fear that the guy had given him, the sideways glances from the others. Marco had created the perfect suave and funny and hopelessly charming persona. But right then, in that studio, he was not Marco the hero to the studio crew. He was Marco the killer. Marco the tactician. It was enough to send him spiraling.

He should have seen the signs. Should have walked away.

Instead, the whole world had seen him lose it. He was no longer Batman. No longer Iron Man. He was pitiful, wounded, deranged, Marco the broken Animorph. He was angry and humiliated at losing his reputation. Shallow? Definitely.

Losing his career, though? He was… well he was upset. He might have just lost what he always wanted. He was rich and famous and successful. He had been on top of the world. He should be devastated to lose that, right? But he was mostly relieved he wouldn’t have to host that stupid game show.

After the war, there had been something missing, a hole in his life. Something… Something. And the hole grew bigger and bigger until he was so bored, so dissatisfied, a part of him was relieved when Jake dragged him along for a final mission. Which was just insane, right?

The relief had been short lived though. Soon they found themselves in space for months and months until they were sick of each others’ presence. Until they saw a mockery of their friend Ax on their screen.

And then Ax had died.

And Marco had been the one who killed him.

Marco took a long swig from his bottle of wine.

It had to be done. Ax was dying already, would die a longer, more painful death if Marco hadn’t intervened. And they had to make sure The One was truly defeated. They had to make sure there were no remnants of that creature left behind. And Ax had practically begged them to do it.

It had to be Marco who did it, too. It couldn’t be Tobias. The kid was already barely hanging on. Having Ax’s blood literally on his hands would likely end in him trying to smash himself into a window again. It couldn’t be Jake. He had been on the other side of the ship, too far to help, and anyway, killing Ax would surely send him spiraling back to the dark place he had been in after Rachel’s death, all his emotional progress down the drain.

Jeanne might have been able to handle it, but she wasn’t an Animorph. She wasn’t one of them. And only one of them could do it. Had to do it.

So that left Marco. He could handle it. He was handling it. Maybe not with the grace he wanted to, but...

He snorted. God, he was a mess. Had been for a while.

He sank lower into the bathtub. He really, really should have seen the signs.

Once upon a time, years ago, he’d tried therapy at his mom’s insistence. The therapist had told him that he had a habit of not actually feeling his emotions. At shoving them aside or rationalizing his way around them. Marco had thought it was bullshit. He woke up most nights screaming in terror, of course he was feeling his emotions.

But maybe she’d had a point, since he’d willingly gone on live TV amidst a mental breakdown without a second thought, not realizing what was happening, not seeing the signs.

Whatever. He had plenty of time to feel his emotions now, here in his bathtub and with his mind mush from the alcohol. Marco made to take another swig from the bottle, realized he had finished it, and reached instead for the can of beer he’d also brought into the bathroom.

…..

Ok, so admittedly he wasn't a great friend. He’d known something was wrong with Marco. The day Tobias had helped him move in, he’d been dismissive and quieter than usual. The bags under his eyes had been pronounced. And though Marco had tried to hide it with worse than usual snippy quips, he seemed rather sad.

Despite this, it had taken Tobias almost three weeks to fly by the house again. He told himself that he was busy. Hunting was a more time-consuming task than usual, after all. But if he was honest with himself, he knew that it was because he could not deal with anyone else’s emotional baggage. Not when his own threatened to pull him under on a daily basis.

It had been easier, before their trip to outer space, to let his hawk brain take over and not think. But now that he was in a new, unfamiliar territory, now that hunting and surviving were more taxing, his human brain had to step in to fill the gaps. And with it came the weariness and grief that he had to expend multitudes of mental energy to keep at bay.

As well as the constant nagging thought that he shouldn’t shut out the world again. But that was just his conscience, which had coincidentally taken the voice of Ax.

On the day Tobias mustered the mental energy to check in on him, Marco was fast asleep on the couch. Through the blinds, he could see various crushed up, empty beer cans strewn around the living room. What seemed like a half empty liquor bottle sat on the coffee table next to the couch. Tobias couldn’t see into the kitchen, but he was sure a similar site would have greeted him there. He peeled away, not willing to wake him up.

When he flew by the next day, he saw an unfamiliar car in the driveway. Jake was standing in the living room with Marco. Though he wasn’t close enough to hear them, by the way Marco was gesticulating and the expressions on their faces, he knew they were arguing.

Tobias circled around. He managed to catch a particularly slow rabbit while he waited. Finally, Jake walked out, and he managed to catch the tail-end of whatever fight they were having.

“Don’t make me call your mom, Marco!”

Marco responded with a middle finger shoved out the door and slammed the door shut. Jake sighed, muttered something under his breath and patted down his pants, looking for his keys. It was strange to think of him, of any of them, driving to get to places instead of flying.

Tobias swooped down and perched on the hood of Jake’s car. ((What’s up with him?))

Jake looked up, startled, and smiled when he saw him. He looked surprisingly well, all things considered. Well-rested, and he’d gained some weight. The haunted, tired, “the weight of the world is on my shoulders” look Tobias had grown accustomed to was still there, but not as prominent as it’d once been.

“Tobias! What are you doing here? How are you doing?”

((Oh you know. Peachy,)) Tobias said, failing to keep his voice from sounding sardonic.

“Mhm,” Jake hummed.

Tobias didn’t own a mirror, but he knew he didn’t look nearly as well as Jake did. Last time he’d seen Jake, Tobias had been flying away from the ship, weak and malnourished. Tobias knew he hadn’t gained much weight back. He hoped Jake didn’t mention it.

He didn’t and gracefully returned to the topic of Marco. “Don’t suppose you’ve turned on a TV or picked up any magazine in the past month?”

((No. I’ve tried set up a cable connection up on my tree, but they never have anyone available to set up the satellite dish.))

Jake grinned, then said, “He uh… had a media shitstorm.” He scratched at his nose, and glanced back at the door, clearly debating how much he should reveal. He settled on, “He had a bit of a breakdown on live TV. He… hasn’t been doing well since we got back.”

((I figured that much,)) Tobias said, and Jake nodded.

They fell into a familiar awkward silence. The contempt and vitriol Tobias had felt towards Jake in the aftermath of Rachel’s death had waned over the course of the three years before their mission to rescue Ax. And aboard the Rachel, they’d settled into a cordial relationship. But the easy camaraderie they’d once shared was gone, and Tobias wasn’t sure if they’d ever get it back. Or if he even wanted it back.

Jake cleared his throat, and said, “So I guess you’ve settled nearby, then?”

((A few miles out, yeah.))

He nodded, hesitated, then asked, “Do you think you can keep an eye on him? Check in every once in a while?”

Tobias almost said no. He knew Jake well enough to know that this wasn’t just about Marco. This was his way of trying to get Tobias to stay connected with the group. But due to recent, tragic events he owed Marco big time. Mercy killing one of your comrades in arms must leave an emotional toll, after all. Had it been Tobias (it had almost been Tobias) the strand of sanity he was holding onto would have snapped long ago.

So he said, ((I’ll see what I can do.))

And if he was honest with himself, he could admit that he had gotten used to human company aboard the Rachel, Marco’s especially. Jeanne, Santorelli, and Menderash were strangers to him, and Jake was a nonstarter. Though forced by circumstance, Marco’s had been the most consistent company he’d had since Rachel’s death, even counting the few times he’d interacted with Cassie and the hork-bajir over the years. On occasion, he even missed him, though he’d never admit it to him.

Jake seemed relieved, gave him a small, thankful smile, and said “Later, Tobias. Tell him to call his mom.” With that, he got into his car and drove off, leaving Tobias to wonder what he’d signed up for.

…..

It was not hard at all to find out what had happened. Tobias hadn’t even had to try. A hunting trip had taken him close to a more touristy, recreational area of the park. It wasn't a good hunting ground, since the people scared away most of the prey. But that meant that there was no competition in the area. Not during the day at least.

As he was flying over, he saw a flash of a familiar face. A quick morph later and he had taken the crumpled, stained magazine out of a trashcan. “Animorph Loses It On Live TV!” was printed in bold letters on the cover page.

Tobias flipped through the magazine, read a direct quote from the incident. “What, you don’t think I’m funny enough? I’ll show you funny.” There was a picture of Marco, sneer on his face and an almost crazed look in his eyes.

Later, he didn’t find Marco at his house. Instead, he found him walking by the side of the highway. Tobias did a double take.

Marco was someone who cared about how he presented himself to others, more so than most people. He had never been the best dressed when they were kids, but he was always put together. Moreso after the war. Anytime Tobias had gotten a glance at him, either on billboards or in magazines or on TV displays, his outfits were always coordinated, his hair was always well-maintained. He always had a smile on his face and well-prepared quips at his disposal. Even aboard the Rachel, it had taken a few weeks for Marco to break his Marco-the-celebrity act and go back to being his usual self with actually tolerable levels of obnoxiousness.

Now, though… he could see food stains on his old, torn T-shirt and jeans. His clothes were crumpled in a way that suggested he had slept in them, maybe for a few days. His hair was a tangled mess, sticking out every which way. There were patches of stubble on his face. And his eyes were dull and bloodshot.

“Your stakeout skills have gotten rusty, Birdboy,” Marco called out without looking up at him, pulling Tobias out of his thoughts. He dropped some altitude, flying closer.

((Well, I wasn’t trying to hide,)) he said defensively. ((Where are you going anyway? Out for a nice stroll?))

Marco shrugged. “7-eleven up the street. Out of beer.”

They travelled in silence for most of the walk. Which probably should have been more unnerving. Usually, Marco never shut up. But he’d grown accustomed to Marco’s eerie silence after… Well, he tried not to think about the aftermath of Ax’s death too much.

Still, the silence told him just as much about Marco’s mental state as his unruly appearance did.

As they approached the 7-eleven, Tobias said, ((Do you want me to go in instead? Nobody recognizes my human morph.))

Tobias could see that there were only a few people milling around the 7-eleven, but anyone who wasn’t living under a rock would recognize Marco. And he really didn’t need any more unwanted attention.

Marco rolled his eyes at him, knowing what he was getting at, and began to morph as he walked. Soon, he was in the body of a middle aged man. Before walking into the store, he said, “You don’t look so hot yourself, you know.”

Tobias waited for a few minutes for Marco to emerge, struggling to carry a few frozen pizzas, half a dozen cups of ramen, and, Tobias quickly noted, three cases of 24-can beers.

Marco must have sensed his trepidation because he said, “You can join me or you can leave.”

After half a second of hesitation, Tobias landed in some nearby bushes to morph to human, then helped Marco carry the bags. He pointedly ignored the way Marco’s breath already smelled like booze. No wonder he’d walked.

Maybe it wasn’t what Jake meant him to do, aiding and abetting Marco’s current bout of substance abuse (or joining him), but he was not here for Jake. Besides, Tobias was hardly in a position to judge anyone else’s bad coping mechanisms.

…..

It used to be fun, Marco thought, drinking with his friends. They hadn’t done it often, what with them being minors and all, and Jake insisting they needed to stay alert if something happened, and Tobias and Ax having to stay at least sober enough to demorph. But it’d been fun. Even aboard the Rachel, where they waited until they were bored out of their minds to break into the bottle of scotch Santorelli had snuck onboard, it hadn’t been this depressing.

He passed the bottle of whiskey.

Marco had been sitting outside in his backyard an hour after sunset when Tobias, flying overhead, presumably heading back to his territory, had seen him and turned around to join him. Even at night and from a distance, he could tell that Tobias looked miserable.

“Out for a late snack?” Marco said as Tobias began to morph, tone too flat for it to really be conversational. Tobias just nodded and grabbed for the bottle.

Marco didn’t point out that it was too dark for Tobias to really hunt anything, or that he was almost as thin as he’d been back on the escape pod when they’d all almost starved to death. Tobias didn’t point out the fact that the bottle had been halfway finished by the time he’d joined him.

It worked.

Maybe Jake or Cassie would have been better company. But then they’d be lecturing him about his drinking habits and getting professional help and blah blah blah. Misery loves company, and Tobias was just as miserable as he was and that was good enough. Besides, it was less sad if he was getting absolutely plastered with someone else instead of by himself, right?

Okay, so maybe he was just depressing. The worst part was that Marco couldn’t think of a single joke to balance it out. He took a swig of the bottle and passed it back.

Neither of them said a single word until Tobias, now glassy-eyed and struggling to his feet, demorphed.

((Thanks for the drink,)) Tobias said as he took off. Marco tipped the now empty bottle at him in farewell, but didn’t say anything else.

When Marco went back inside and looked at his empty house, he was struck with a feeling of loneliness so intense he almost picked up the phone to call Jake or Cassie or his mom. Almost flew out after Tobias.

Instead, he shook his head, stumbled to the couch, and turned on the TV. As he dozed off, head spinning, knowing that he’d wake up with a hangover, he was struck with how painfully familiar this scene was. Beer cans strewn around. Miserable man sleeping on the couch. No food in the fridge.

Marco almost smiled bitterly. There was the irony and humor he was looking for. He was asleep before he thought of a punchline that was actually worth saying.

……

Marco awoke to the sound of banging on his door. Even in his almost zombified state, he still bolted up at the sudden sound. Then, realizing what it was, he groaned and laid back down. Every knock on the door felt like it was shooting straight to his head. He’d once again forgotten to morph before bed to get rid of the morning hangover.

He would have gone downstairs and yelled at whoever it was. Sales people or Jehovah’s Witnesses or whoever. But he might have thrown up if he tried to stand. He pulled the sheets over his head instead. Eventually, the persistent knocking subsided and Marco relaxed, about to doze off again before more intense knocking, this time coming from his back door, made him jump out of bed.

Who the hell had the gall to break into his backyard? He stomped over to his window and yanked it open, leaned his disheveled head out to window and opened his mouth to yell and-

“Mom!?”

Eva looked up at him, hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun, glaring. “Did you forget how to use a phone, or what?”

Shit. It’d been about a month since Marco had called her. He’d meant to. Even if just to get her off his back. He knew his biweekly text messages wouldn’t hold her off for long.

“Come open the door!”

“Right. Going!”

He quickly gargled some mouthwash and threw on a t-shirt. Not a clean one. He hadn’t done his laundry since he’d moved in. He had no time to brush his hair. Not before she’d start attempting to pick the lock. His mother was persistent.

Marco winced as he reached downstairs, considered at least kicking some of the cans under the couch. But he had glass sliding doors at the back of the house. His mom had already seen everything.

“Hi, Mom!” he said brightly and leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek in usual greeting. He tried not to wince at the brightness of the sun.

“Apestas a alcohol,” she said in greeting before walking past him. Marco sniffed at his shirt. “It’s coming out of your pores, sonso.” Damn.

“Sorry, I had a party last night.”

It was an obvious lie. It wasn’t like he had many friends at the moment. Still, she didn’t say anything. Just took a look around and wrinkled her nose.

Marco tried to think of something clever to say, but his brain was still too mushy to come up with anything.

After Eva looked around the house for a few seconds, she turned back to him and said, “Go take a shower. I’ll get started cleaning here.”

Marco opened his mouth to protest, but a quick glance and a stern “go” had him sighing and stomping up the stairs. Had it been anyone else, literally anyone else, he would have told them to fuck off.

He took a long shower. It took a while for him to sober up. And he was dreading talking to his mother. He knew it would leave him feeling guilty and a little ashamed and he was tired of feeling bad.

Marco walked down the stairs, feeling better and more alert, but still grumbling like a kid being put on timeout. He found her piling dishes into the dishwasher. She stomped over to him when she saw him, a scowl on her face. Well, that’s not good, he thought. She slammed something down on his coffee table.

“What is this?” Eva demanded, revealing a small ziploc bag containing a white, powdered substance. Marco swallowed nervously.

“It’s not mine. I’m just holding it for a friend?” he tried weakly.

Eva sighed, deflating, suddenly looking more tired than mad. That was worse.

“Marco, what are you doing?”

“Look,” Marco said, suddenly defensive. “I’m an actor, okay? This is normal. It’d be weirder if I wasn’t doing drugs. Besides, I can morph. I literally can’t get addicted to anything.” Not physically, at least.

“Oh, I don’t care about the drugs,” Eva exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. “Mijo, you’re wasting your life away.”

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He ignored the way his mom’s eyes narrowed at him. “It’s barely been two months. It’s not like I’m some sort of bum. I’m a war hero. I’m a millionaire.” He sounded like an ass, but it was true. “I just need a break okay? I need to relax.”

“This your idea of relaxing?” his mom asked, gesturing at the bags of trash she’d gathered. Marco rolled his eyes again. He muttered an affirmative under his breath but couldn’t meet her eyes. “I’ve given you time. I’ve given you space. But this isn’t healthy, mijo. You need help.”

“I’m fine,” Marco snapped. “I know it doesn’t look like it, but I’m handling things.”

“Another one of your friends is dead,” Eva said flatly and Marco winced. “You are fighting with your dad and you’ve blown up your career. You’re on your way to becoming an alcoholic. You need professional help.”

Marco didn’t answer. He turned away from her angrily. And guilty and ashamed. He considered telling her to leave, but couldn’t bring himself to do so. He was about to stomp up the stairs like a petulant teen, but his mom said, “Finish cleaning up here, will you? I’m going to get some groceries.”

“I’m an adult. I don’t need my mom buying me groceries.” She gave her own eyeroll, but didn’t otherwise respond to his outburst before walking out the front door, keys in hand.

Marco did stomp his way up the stairs, got about halfway up, then sighed and turned back down to finish what his mom had started.

….

His mom left the next morning, threatening to come back and drag him outside by the ear if he didn’t at least call her once a week. After she left, he found that he’d cleared out all of the liquor in the house in the middle of the night, as well as his well-hidden illicit drugs. He sent her a message asking for monetary reimbursement which was of course ignored.

Marco’s mood did not improve over the next few days. Especially not when he’d been forced into sobriety. He could go out and get more alcohol, of course. And he would, later. But for now, he lay on his couch, letting himself wallow in bitterness and anger and self-pity. He’d earned the right, damnit.

Maybe his mom was right. Maybe he needed professional help. Instead, he flipped aimlessly through the channels on TV, not really looking at what was on. It was like that Tobias found him a few days later, swooping in through the open back window. Eva had left it open before leaving, talking about fresh air and sunlight. Marco hadn’t bothered to close it.

((Tidied up the place?))

It had been a while since Tobias had dropped by. Tobias was like a ghost. Appeared and disappeared at whim. Flashed into existence when he remembered he was a person and was gone when he forgot he was alive.

Marco shrugged and continued to stare at his TV dully. “My mom stopped by.”

((Ah. Guess you finally called her then.))

Marco stopped scrolling through the channels. Glanced back at Tobias. “What?”

((Jake,)) Tobias explained. ((I talked to him a few weeks ago when he stopped by your place. Told me to tell you to call your mom.))

An image appeared in Marco’s mind, then. Jake and Tobias and Cassie. All sitting around discussing him. Talking about how he’d lost it. How he’d finally snapped. They shook their heads pityingly in his mind. Poor Marco, he heard them say. Poor, poor Marco.

“What, you’re best friends with Jake now?” Marco snapped, suddenly angry.

Tobias stopped mid-preen and cocked his head at him. ((What?))

“You two sitting around, talking about my problems? As if you’re not both more fucked in the head than I am?” He could his heart beginning to pound wildly as his tone grew more accusatory.

Tobias sighed. ((Look, Marco-))

“No, no, tell me. Did you invite Cassie to your gossiping sessions, too? My mom?”

Marco could practically hear Tobias roll his eyes at him, which just made his blood boil. He was not being ridiculous. He was not overreacting. ((Oh, grow up, will you? They’re just worried about you.))

Marco snorted. “That’s rich coming from you. Tell me, when’s the last time you talked to your mom?”

Tobias fixed his sharp glare at him. ((Fuck you, dude. Are you contractually obligated to be an asshole to anyone trying to help you?))

Marco sneered. “Oh, you’re helping me? You? The guy who disappeared from the face of the earth for years? No, you’re here because you feel guilty I had to kill Ax when you didn’t have the guts to do what needed to be done.” Even as the words were coming out of his mouth, Marco knew he would regret them. But right now, he couldn’t find it in him to care.

There was a loaded silence, then a seething ((This might be news to you Marco, but people with common empathy don’t rush to kill their family members at a moment’s drop.))

It was a low blow, meant to hurt. Marco turned from Tobias and began walking away. Without looking back, he said, “Why don’t you do what you do best? Piss off and go sulk on your tree.”

The only response he got was the sound of wings flapping and then nothing, as Tobias took to the sky.

This time, Marco had noticed the signs, but perhaps too late. A few minutes later, he sat at the foot of his bed, curled into himself as he tried to take deep breaths through waves of panic.

……

Tobias moped for a few days, angry and more than a little hurt.

He knew that Marco had been angry at him, after the war, for disappearing for years. But he’d thought they’d worked it out aboard the Rachel. One night, Marco had snapped at him, after a particularly frustrating day, accusing his disappearance as the reason Jake had been depressed for years. Tobias had informed him that he didn’t particularly care about Jake’s feelings. When Marco threw Loren and Ax and Cassie and himself at his face, though, he’d shut right up.

Marco had missed him. He’d been worried about him, as had the others. He didn’t say it outright, of course. Not the part about missing him, at least. But Tobias had gotten the point after Marco had accused him of abandoning his friends a couple of times.

Tobias had missed them, too, though he didn’t tell him that. He did try to explain, not in so many words, that it hadn’t been them that he was trying to run from, but the never-ending, soul crushing, nearly life-ending grief and pain that had taken over his mind and his heart, after Rachel’s death. How impossible it had been, for a while, to be in his own presence, let alone the presence of others. Marco had gotten the gist of his non-apology. They’d watched a couple of hours of crappy TV together, and just like that, they were friends again.

Sadder friends, now that Rachel was dead and with the looming worry for Ax, their missing friend, the third link of what had once, towards the end of the war, been a team within their team. Marco had joined him and Ax as a fellow outcast after his so-called death, and though Tobias had been a little annoyed at the disruption of his and Ax’s little home, he’d appreciated Marco’s company. So it had been nice, back in space, to have a friend back in the absence of everyone else.

And then Marco had killed Ax.

Tobias had been the one to find Ax, alone and too far gone to save, in a secluded corner aboard the blade ship. It would have been him who would have had to do it, slid his sharp, hork-bajir blades across his throat or through his brain. But Marco had found them, seen the grief and despair and horror that were so obviously visible even through Tobias’s hork-bajir face. He’d understood, immediately, what Ax was asking. And so he’d laid a hairy hand on his shoulder and told him to look away. And just like that, Ax was really, truly, dead.

He had wondered if Marco resented him for it. He’d never accused him of anything, after they escaped, their sad band of four surviving members. They had been crammed inside an escape pod, shooting to earth for four months on four hundred square feet of space, one bathroom and barely enough food to keep them from flat out starving.

Santorelli was dead. Menderash was dead. Ax was dead.

Ax was dead. As was the weird normalcy they'd all fallen into before running into the blade ship.

Tobias didn’t remember much of those four months on their way to earth, after the loss of his uncle and very best friend in the whole world. They had slept a lot. Both to conserve energy as they were low on food supplies and because the four of them had been reduced basically to zombies. He would hear Jeanne cry, occasionally, though he couldn’t remember if anyone had tried to comfort her. Jake would pace around sometimes, muttering to himself, though it was far more unnerving when he paced silently.

Marco would watch the same movie over and over again on the small movie player he’d manage to save. Tobias didn’t think he’d ever be able to watch The Princess Bride again without clawing his face off. Occasionally, Tobias would see tear tracks on his blank face, almost like if Marco himself didn’t realize they were there at all. Once or twice he had caught him taking a benadryl to knock himself unconscious faster. Maybe Tobias should have checked in, asked him how he was doing. Apologize. Thank him.

But Tobias himself had retreated once again. He didn’t morph. He barely talked. He sometimes ate. When, finally, they’d arrived on earth, without looking at him, Marco had asked, “Are we ever going to see you again?”

((Yes,)) he had said, after some hesitation. ((I can’t tell you when, but you’ll see me again.)) Marco had nodded and Tobias had left. He didn’t see him again until the day he pulled into his now home.

So maybe Tobias wasn’t an amazing friend. But he thought they still were. Even sadder friends now. Marco, once again an outcast like him. Both of them more broken and damaged than ever. But still friends.

Maybe not.

It was okay. Tobias was still terribly angry at him anyway. So he’d give himself a few more days to mope and then he’d get over it and reach out to Toby and Cassie. He’d hang out with them more. He had to. Before he died, he’d promised Ax that he wouldn’t completely isolate himself again.

He really wished he’d done no such thing.

……

Finding Tobias was harder than he’d anticipated. Which Marco should have known. No one could disappear as well as he could. It didn’t help that he didn’t actually know where his new territory was, besides knowing that it had to be close by. So, he’d had to find Toby first to get the precise location.

And of course, Tobias wasn’t there. He also wasn’t there the next couple of times Marco flew by. He was getting increasingly concerned that he’d pushed his friend into another years-long bout of isolation, that it’d be his fault, when he finally spotted him a mile out from his house. Tobias was flying lower than him, circling around, presumably hunting for something.

Marco angled towards him, and called out, ((Birdboy!))

Tobias didn’t answer, and Marco flew closer towards him. ((Hey, Tobias!))

Still, no answer. He did a double-take, but- no. It was him. Marco would have rolled his eyes if he could. Petty ass.

((That’s cool. You don’t have to talk. I think I’ll stick around for a while, though. I’m catching some killer thermals. I do sure hope I don’t accidentally scare away any prey, tho-))

((What do you want Marco?)) Tobias snapped, irritated.

((I just want to talk.))

Tobias sighed dramatically in his head, and proceeded to land on a tree. Marco landed on the foot of the tree and demorphed. When he was done, he said, “I, uh wanted to apologize,” he said, looking at the branch Tobias was perched on rather than directly at him.

((Go on,)) Tobias said, after a moment.

Marco sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I was way out of line, okay? I’m sorry for bringing up Loren. And Ax. And… well, the rest of it.”

There was a pause, and Marco expected him to fly off or at least to feel the sogginess of bird shit land on him. But instead, Tobias said, ((Okay. Whatever.))

Marco finally looked up at him. “What, that’s it?” Despite the lack of facial expressions, Marco knew Tobias was still irritated.

((What do you want me to say?))

Marco shrugged. “I thought you’d be angrier.”

((Of course I’m still angry! You had no right throw Ax and Loren in my face like that.))

Marco wanted to say that Tobias had no right to throw the cliff incident at his face either, but that would just piss him off even more. And he was so tired of everyone being angry at him, deserved or not.

“I know. I was just being an asshole.”

((Yeah, well, what’s new?))

Marco snorted. Wasn’t that the story of his fucking life lately?

“You got me there,” he said, mock cheerfully. “Anything else?”

((For the record, I had no intention of leaving Ax like that. I was going to ki-)) A pause, then, with more bitter resignation than anger, ((I was going to do it. I know you resent me for that, but-))

“I don’t resent you for Ax,” Marco interrupted, surprised. “I do resent you for coming here trying to give me advice when we both know you are even more fucked in the head than I am.”

((Oh trust me I am under no illusions about my sanity. I am well aware,)) Tobias said sardonically.

“Good. So don’t try to lecture me again.”

((Fine. And you stop being an asshole to people who are just trying to help you.))

Marco glared at him. “You’re one to talk,” he said, and immediately regretted it. So much for not pissing him off.

But instead of flying away, like Marco thought he would, Tobias said, ((Oh, I’m not an asshole to people trying to help me. I just don’t let them find me.))

Marco laughed. He sat down and leaned against the tree. “You know, I think I finally understand you now. I want nothing more than to sit around and play video games and watch trash TV and partake in some light substance abuse and be left the fuck alone. Is that too much to ask?”

((I mean, I didn’t do any of those things, but sure.))

“That’s because I am way more fun than you, my feathery friend.”

They sat in silence for a while. And then Tobias said, ((Hey, Marco? About Ax? I… thanks… For… You know. Taking over.))

Marco shifted, uncomfortable now. “Yeah, well, gotta pay it forward. Jake and Cassie did the same thing for me. With my mom.”

((Yeah. But Ax was your friend, too. I know that had to have messed you up. So thanks.))

Marco shrugged, but didn’t deny it. “Yeah, well, I didn’t come here to be sad. I think I’m gonna go back to bad TV and video games. Want to come?”

((No,)) Tobias said, and Marco nodded, trying not to look disappointed. Then he grinned when Tobias added, ((I still have to go find my lunch. I’ll stop by tomorrow.))

……

And so, just like that, Marco and Tobias were once again a constant in each other’s lives. They saw each other once or twice a week, Tobias stopping by between meals. They would joke and bicker and watch an installment or two of whatever Marco was currently binging. Sometimes they went out for a fly. Sometimes, Marco would convince Tobias to morph human and play video games or have dinner with him.

Occasionally, when it had been too many days between his visits, Marco would fly around and find Tobias, usually flying aimlessly, lost in his own head. He would join him and talk to him, rambling about one subject or the next, not minding when Tobias gave one word responses or said nothing at all. Usually, on those days, he could pull at least one complete sentence out of Tobias before he had to demorph. Occasionally, he’d be able to convince him to join him back at the house.

Sometimes, when they watched a show or a movie, Tobias would notice that it’d been too long since Marco made a quip about whatever they were watching. So he would take over and chip in with his own wry commentary. Usually, he could get a lame joke out of Marco. Sometimes, he could pull out a genuine laugh out of him.

They were bruised and broken, both of them, reeling from their still open wounds. But the company helped.

#finally FINALLY here's the marco and tobias grow together after the war fic i was talking about #it's a long one folks #animorphs #warriorlid writes

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ahoppingmagician · 1 year ago

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Nope

Alright, Viv just stop this train wreck, pull the plug, change your name and move to a mountain in the middle of nowhere. his woman is fully grown and I won't coddle her like the rest of the world.

Warnings: SA and Racism(If you aren't in the right head space please don't read these sections or this post)

SEXUAL ASSAULT

Alright, let's start with sexual assault. It shouldn't be treated like a joke or erotic because it's not. What else can I say to get it through people's skulls that SA isn't funny or sexy? If you truly need a post to understand why it's not acceptable, you are dangerous or too young to watch this show. This 30-something-year-old knows it's serious, but chooses when it should be taken seriously depending on her twink of the day. (You don't pick or choose when a topic is serious Viv, but go off)

Also, she needs to give things warnings, like I did for this post, for people to be

Happy

Healthy

Safe

Is it more hassle for you? Not at all. Will it be mentally damaging for the viewers? Yes, because you didn't warn them like a responsible creator about something they might have lived or have similar experiences with being shown on screen.

Goofy Rant

Now I'll brighten the mood by being a hateful bitch.

What is this plot? seriously how did we start with a hotel and then get to a threat of war between heaven and hell in like six episodes. That alone is two seasons, never mind every character's trauma, and other people that want the hotel cast dead, oh yeah and backstories for most of our cast...im six episodes.

VIV SLOW THE FUCK DOWN

If you have to cram every major plotline into your story then you failed. What she should of done is trim the fat off this burnt peice of bacon. Get rid of the Vees because they are pointless to the other plots or maybe the angel demon war because why would this show need it, or all the unfunny jokes.

Characters are shit adjacent but is that a surprise to literal any...wait her rabid fans. If your a fan of this series for god knows why then good for you...unless your a FAN fan. I have many words to say to them but that's for another day.

Edit: (Didn't even fucking know I posted this today, so sorry, onto racism)

RACISM

Now I am as Caucasian as can be so maybe I shouldn't speak on this, POC let me know if I can or if I should just shut up and let you do it.

I don't know much about voodoo/voodou, but I do know that it is a practiced religion, not a vibe VIV. You can't add a different religion to this show because it's a CHRISTIAN show, it explores the faults of God's judgement, heaven, and hell. Also, voodoo/voodou shouldn't be used as "evil" magic because we aren't in the 1900s to early 2000s anymore VIV. Also, you know it's a heavily if not completely black religion.

Alastor, Husk, Velvette, Emily, and Sera(Millie from HB aswell) don't look black. Now maybe I'm an asshole for this or even racist but where is the textured hair, like box braids, dreadlocks, afros, afro puffs, or just curlier hair in general. Why aren't you exploring the trauma that Alastor definitely went through because he was a biracial man in the early 1900s which could easily explain (not excuse) his behaviour, you could have a nurture versus nature theme.

Nifty feels...weird to me. First of all an Asian woman in the 50s who seems to have been raised or travelled to the USA, again racist trauma and all that being completely ignored. She feels like a stereotype, between the constant cleaning, obsessive behaviour, and her erratic behaviour. It feels like the crazy Asian woman stereotype.

Alright, that's it for right now, Have a wonderful day or night and wear whatever because it's all about your comfort because the world if making my own sanity crumble.

#anti vivziepop #hazbin hotel criticism #anti hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel critical #vivziepop critical #vivziepop

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ellipsiseffervescent · 1 year ago

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Hank and Walter analysis with a focus on Hank:

Hank is Walter’s foil in masculinity, but not necessarily his opposite. In fact, the qualities they share are why Hank doesn’t make it. Walt wants the veneer of a respectable man- a good father, respected teacher, but does not care to embody these traits when no one is looking or when it comes at a cost to him/his ego. Hank, meanwhile, cares about being an upstanding citizen because he truly desires to be what he understands as a “good man”. In part, it’s why he owns up to the beating he inflicts on Jesse- he always believes that Jesse, a “junkie”, deserves whatever is coming to him, but Hank broke the societal expectations of what a good law man does and that is why he feels shame and comes clean.

While Hank is ultimately a better father figure and is the family man that Walt wants to be seen as, he too judges people in society based on traditional stereotypes. It’s why Hank can both be a wonderful support to the family but also shockingly racist- as members of his family, they are innocent and good, but that’s also why Walt goes unsuspected for so long. Walt’s a pretty bad liar when caught unawares and doesn’t cover his tracks very well. If Hank had been able to cast off his habit of dehumanizing all who don’t fit the respectable stereotype in middle class USA then he would have suspected Walt from the investigation into the missing chem supplies of season 1. He’s the first one that realizes that Walt has a second phone, but there’s no way a straight white high school chem teacher would ever cook meth. He knows that Walt has cancer, the motive is easily understandable, but Hank is convinced that none of the civilians in his circle could possibly handle the world he works in. This is also one of the reasons why Hank isolates himself in his trauma- who in his family could possibly handle those horrors but him?

Additionally, his fear of being seen as a bad DEA agent who didn’t see that Heisenberg was living right under his nose and paying for his medical treatments is why he felt he needed to bring Walter in before telling the rest of the DEA- it’s his redemption. Hank can have the solution to his problem as he brings it to the attention of others, thus dealing with his responsibilities on his own. In fact, Saul specifically acknowledges the shame it would bring Hank’s career if Walt’s identity ever came out in earlier seasons. This is why Hank is such a compelling character- you get the sense that he is someone who can be surprisingly decent, until he’s confronted with someone he’s learned is “other”. Hank must fulfill his own stereotype of the strong provider, and his way of viewing the world is ultimately what costs him his life. I believe that the lesson of Walter and Hank is that trying to fulfill societal stereotypes of masculinity, white respectability, and classism is detrimental for everyone, including those you love and regardless of how genuinely one wants to use that roadmap to be a “good person”.

#breaking bad #brba #walter white #hank schrader #you can never be a prince hank

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hello-nichya-here · 1 year ago

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Genuine question: If the ppl of Brazil are anti-communism, why are they in BRICS with Russia and China, two communist countries?

1 - My God, this question single-handedly took back me back to my school years. Answering this lowkey makes me feel like I'm taking a test XD

2 - Russia has not been communist for over 30 years. Ya know. The USSR ended in 1991? It was kind of a big deal?

3 - China's government is a VERY weird combo of the worst of communism with the worst of capitalism. Obviously a lot about how the country works is a direct result of communism, but they have zero problem playing the capitalist game, and as a result EVERYONE has some kind of economical relation with China - they sell stuff the cheapest (thanks to slavery) and have literal billions of people foreigners can sell their stuff to. If selling/buying stuff with them made anyone communist, the whole world might as well be communist already.

4 - BRICS is not like the EU, or the USSR, or NATO. Brazil's opinions on anything that goes on with our "friends" doesn't matter because the point of it is not for us, Russia, India, China and South Africa to collectively decide anything about each other's politics (border control, currency, economic system, alliances in wartime, etc). It's literally just a group of nations that are struggling to remain/become relevant to the rest the world, while also trying not to go officially broke, that looked at each other and went "If you're about to crash and burn I'll try to help you out if I can, and then you do the same for me. Deal?" It's the possibility economic back up in case of crisis. The one thing we have to decide together is "Who gets to join this group of countries that are desperately trying to not implode?"

5 - Most brazilians are not really anti-communism because most brazilians don't fucking KNOW what communism is. A few might have heard names like Marx, Lenin, Stalin, Vladmir Putin, Mao or Fidel Castro, but they don't know shit about them. Lots of us know BRICS exists, but a ton cannot explain what it is. If you ask most brazilians to point to either China or Russia on a map, I'd say over half wouldn't be able to do it. And if you ask us to point to our own country on a map, a shockingly large number of people here will STILL not be able to do it because our educational system is that fucking bad.

You'll find LOTS of people, especially older generations, that think they understand what communism is, but in reality they were just fed the pro-USA propaganda those motherfuckers were spreading through all of latin america during the cold war by literally backing up dictatorships. And me acknowledging that fact and not calling the coup of 1964 "the revolution that was totally necessary and wanted by everybody and totally didn't lead to all kinds of violations of people's basic human rights" would already make half of my relatives yell at me to go to Cuba or Venezuela so I'll "stop" being a communist - because yes, saying "Dictatorship bad" is enough for them to label people communists.

Our president through 2019-2022, Jair Bolsonaro (I still HATE that dude's gut in case anyone is wondering) literally brought all of that old propaganda back to make people scared of the "communist threat inside Brazil" so he would get elected, and then tried to use that again to stage a coup after he lost to Lula in 2022.

Brazil is not "anti-communist." Brazil is a country filled with people that were never taught some pretty basic stuff about the world, and are thus easily manipulated by any politician.

#asks #brazil #brics #brasil

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thenixkat · 5 months ago

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so teh entirety of shit going to shit in teh past 10 yrs is entirely b/c of villains pulling strings. And none of the heroes who know about these mastermind type villains would think that there's any change they've got a hand in shit going to shit and instead blame the very visible amoral vigilantes running around

why the fuck is Captain Marvel working for Lex Luthor and why does teh writer for this hate every single hero acquired from other companies (excluding Blue Beetle b/c he can be an asset to Batman) so much?

ah yes the concentration of characters that include the most visible characters of color and some anti-villain types get called untamed beasts

oh and SUperman's forcing people to join the league and follow his rules b/c someone has totalitarian tendencies

also there's some members of the crowd that I do recognize that are literally villains like Captain Boomerang and some of the folks in teh military uniforms but also that spikey yellow chick? That's Lightning, Black Lightning's youngest daughter. Who is a whole-ass hero in main continuity. You can imagine that I'm not happy that Black characters I know and know are good people in their main timeline being used as part of the crowd of amoral youths being called untamed wild beasts

someone needed to needed to smack Mark Waid and Alex Ross (the writers for this comic) about the being racist as shit thing

the response to people hearing Superman go 'you will join us or be dealt with' shouldnt be acting fanish and like he's literally Jesus

like? I can see the Question in that crowd. The fucking Question. its not like the Question is a contemporary or ally of the Blue Beetle and hasn't been a Justice League member also spot someone who looks like Mr. Miricle and Big Barda's kid yeah totally another child of heroes would have no morals

oh of course heroes from all over the world have to obey the USAmerican SUperman lest there be global anarchy

how much of comics like these are are the writers going 'the rest of the world needs to bow down to the USA b/c we're right and our superheroes are the best the strongest and the pinnacle of humanity' without a shred of irony or shame?

more captives than converts… just going in on the missionary shit

ah the light of worshiping Superman, which every superhero in teh world should be expected to b/c Superman is best unless they're followers of teh only other correct path which is worshiping Batman imagine not being ashamed of writing and publishing something like this?

Wonder Woman straight up asks Aquaman to let them build a penal colony for metas that refuse to see the light of worshiping SUperman in his kingdom. On teh first meeting they've had in over a decade

also this art implies that Superman can breathe underwater when I know his ass cant. and good on Aquaman for refusing that shitty ass request

Wonder Woman i dont blame yer sisters for stripping you of your titles, you are a failure. Instead of leading fuckers or sleuthing shit you spent yrs trying to get Superman to come out of exile and are now helping start up a totalitarian regime. Good on yer sisters for kicking yer ass out and not helping you with any of this shit

of course its not Superman himself pushing for a totalitarian regime its Wonder Woman of course, we can't tarnish Superman's name that much, let's blame the blood thirsty woman in the trinity who could never be as good as either of the men

Magog, who the Justice League confront clearly trying to help rebuild shit in the now desolated Kansas, tell Superman the reason teh current generation is like it is cause folks like SUperman never fixed shit like the Joker and that's why the younger heroes are more violent

which is not unreasonable, someone shoulda been murdered the Joker decades ago. Its been demonstrated the the only guaranteed way to stop him from getting out to kill and torture more people is to kill him. Of course DC writers can't fucking handle nuance and go 'superheroes willing to kill when proven necessary are just gonna be violent for violence's sake and not care about bystandards'

oh teh Joker killed Lois

Magog killed the Joker, was tried for it and let go cause its the fucking Joker, everyone wants the Joker dead no one gives a shit if someone kills the Joker. And due to Magog not facing criminal charges for killing the Joker in addition to Lios's dead is what caused Superman to abandon humanity

b/c clearly humanity isnt that worth it if they're fine with someone killing a mass murder that the criminal justice system has continuously failed to contain

of course Magog has to feel awful about shit and repent b/c the public made the wrong choice of hero to want. B/c that's the type of story this is

its not like the Joker killing Lois didnt put Superman on a murderous totalitarian path in other elseworlds or anything

#nix meows #nix reads comics #kingdom come 1996 #superman #batman #wonder woman #dc critical

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houseofbrat · 2 years ago

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In response to fed in Washington. IMO, the U.K. has no choice but to sidle up to the U.S. in light of Russian and Chinese aggression. NO ONE has the military might of the U.S. One sixth of our total federal budget is devoted to the military. We are the only power currently (for good or bad) that can even contemplate a war with either Russia or China. Of the major powers, only Russia outspends us.

[related post]

The UK is part of NATO, so I would describe the scenario a little differently. A little more like this...

Ukraine has no real strategic interest to the USA, and the USA would have preferred it if Russia never invaded Ukraine in 2022. The pre-2022 status quo was just fine for everyone in the USA.

However, Russia believes--based on a few hundred years of existence--that they need to lock down and control territory that they used to control in order to feel safe. Obviously it involves Ukraine. But also Poland and Romania. And probably the Baltic states too.

The small problem is that all of those countries except for Ukraine are a part of NATO. Once Russia attacks a NATO country, it then becomes Russia versus NATO. If anything about the Ukraine war has been made abundantly clear, it's that the Russian army of today does not know logistics and cannot pull off an invasion. If they could, then they would have steam rolled Ukraine in less than a year. Except they couldn't because their military is weaker than we all assumed.

NATO doesn't really fear a NATO-versus-Russia military fight because NATO would obviously win that fight with something like 1,000 Russian casualties to 1 NATO casualty. Or worse. It would be that overwhelming. Russia is making the Iraqi army of 2003 look supremely competent with their moves in Ukraine.

However, American military leaders are freaked out seeing how badly number two Russia is doing on the battlefields of Ukraine. They know that if a Russia-versus-NATO war happens, Russia will nuke everyone. Because in the minds of Russian leaders, this fight is for their survival. Even though, in the minds of everyone else, we would all just prefer if none of this ever happened, and we could all go back to 2019 when we could buy finely made crafts from Ukraine on Etsy.

But everyone else has gotten the memo that the peeps in Moscow have gone cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs, which is why formerly neutral countries like Finland and Sweden are joining NATO three decades after the Cold War ended. Because they don't want to get invaded by the crazies in Moscow. And no one wants a nuclear war.

For that, it's just better for everyone right now if the Russian military temporarily dies in Ukraine. Because no one wants to get nuked when the Russians act like sore losers. Also, a revolution in Moscow over the failures in Ukraine within the next two years is basically even money at this point.

I wouldn't even conflate Russia's aggression with China right now. Russia may be using China these days. Russia has the natural resources while China has the people and the money. However, China & Russia are natural enemies. I'm still wondering if China will invade eastern Russia some day just to take over Lake Baikal for its water.

youtube

So, yes, the USA has the best military in the world. We've used it a lot. Even when we shouldn't have. But we really don't want to go to war with Russia. Neither does the UK. Or anyone else in Europe.

Because we don't want to get nuked BY LOSERS lashing out at the rest of us.

Do you want to get nuked? I don't want to get nuked. I bet Rishi Sunak and the entire Foreign Office of the UK government doesn't want to get nuked. It doesn't really have anything to do with the UK-US special "relationship" because neither wants to get nuked. Neither does France, and I am old enough to remember Jacques Chirac calling bullshit on George W. Bush and the Iraq War when Tony Blair wouldn't.

Not getting nuked? Win-win!

#ask #USA #uk #military #nato #russia #china #ukraine

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thatneilj · 5 years ago

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Game of the Year 2019

Originally Posted January 2020

2019 saw a lot of change in my life. I’m not sure I can say any of it has been… pleasant. I had to move back to the USA. I have been unsuccessful in finding new or better work. And let’s not even get started on what my living situation has become due to all of this. Suffice to say, games in 2019 were a much needed escape for me throughout the year, and here are the top 5 games I played this year.

Honorables

Slay the Spire

Slay the Spire IS a top 5 game this year. Every part of the game is wonderfully tuned; the flexibility of the decks you can make even within each character class, the pace of the encounters, and the challenge of the bosses. So why isn’t it up there? Well… I spent most of my time with this game in 2018 during its early access and I just don’t feel right putting it IN my top 5 because of that.

Gato Roboto

Metroid games are all about exploring to find new items and abilities and using those to go explore even more. Gato Roboto manages to hit those beats and nail those feelings despite being a fourth of the commitment those games usually ask. It was surprising, charming, and just an all around wonderful experience.

World of Warcraft: Classic

Ok, yes, World of Warcraft did originally release in 2004, and no this wasn’t some kind of remake. That is a part of why it isn’t on the real list. Back in 2005 I spent way too much time with this janky game. Despite all the rough edges, confusing choices, and much slower pace than I remembered, the game still managed to be surprisingly immersive. While I have moved past this game, again, it was a nice way to escape and pretend it wasn’t 2019 anymore.

5. Apex Legends

When Playerunknown’s Battlegrounds hit the scene in 2017 it took the industry by storm. Now, two years out, we have franchise shooters putting in Battle Royal modes, a bunch of other full releases in that style, and even Tetris 99 putting a very silly spin on it. Apex Legends really managed to stand above the rest with its UI design, great feeling movement, and its unique characters. Adding in the special abilities for the handful of characters, and defaulting the game to a squad based format, means that even if you aren’t the best shooter in the world you can still be a huge benefit to your team. Then you add in the incredible contextual pinging system to point out enemies, items, and more allowing extreme ease of communication with strangers even without voice chat.

The whole package just adds up to being the best Battle Royal experience out there.

4. Anodyne 2: Return to Dust

Anodyne 2 is such a strange blend of early 3D exploration and 2D puzzle solving. What’s magical about it is how it begins to build the connections between them. Forging connections with each other character by diving into them cleaning away the nano-dust starts to reflect back on how these raelms are connected to. Only to figure out that while the connections are good, maybe the cleaning isn’t. As the game turns into a story of self-discovery and living up to being who you want to be instead of who others intend for you to be, it becomes clear just how earnest the developers at Analgesic are in exploring all these themes.

One section in particular resonated with me so strongly the game had to be on this list. Before I get into it though, here is your big SPOILER WARNING.

In one segment of the game you seem to glitch out while trying to start the connection to go nano-scale. Instead of coming to the 2D plane you end up in an isometric environment. An apartment, with a rather normal looking person as your avatar. In this segment themes of depression, fear of stagnation, and the desire for escapism are all explored in such raw detail… In this segment the game built a connection with me, the player, as if I was one of the characters who needed nano-dusting.

3. Outer Wilds

A few years back I found myself entranced by The Witness. A small island full of puzzles that slowly but surely teach you a sort of language that the whole world is speaking with. Outer Wilds steps away from the overt puzzles, to instead open up a tiny solar system full of mystery for you to explore. Instead of teaching you the language this world speaks with, it sends you through time-loop after time-loop to discover everything you can about the highly advanced but dead culture of the Nomai. Unfortunately the learning curve for the janky controls and the sheer openness of the solar system does create a slow start. Once you explore a planet or two enough to see the interconnectivity of everything the game starts to shine.

I got over the hump when I realized the information I just discovered on Brittle Hollow could grant me access to new places on Giant’s Deep. I was hooked. Why were the Nomai looking for this Eye of the Universe? How can I find my way onto that station speeding so dangerously close to the sun? How can I traverse this mind-bending space inside of the core of Dark Bramble? Answering these questions and more was extremely satisfying.

2. Teppen

In 2018 Android: Netrunner, a tabletop card game, had a licensing agreement expire causing the end of official support. I love that game, and while I have all the officially released cards, I don’t really have a place or people to play it with anymore. There are lots of other card games out there, but none of them grab me that same way. Teppen doesn’t quite get there either, but there is some DNA in the way deckbuilding function that scratches a few of those itches. Capcom completely blindside me with how much I like this game, particularly considering I am generally not very big on mobile gaming.

One of the biggest draws about Teppen is that it is not a turn based game. This real-time flow brings a fast-paced style of play to the game that I have not experienced in any other card game before. They make some really smart moves with simplicity of card types, only two, letting the deck construction and the timing of piloting that deck be where the complexity and depth shine through. Building a deck is super fun because the game really allows you to lean into the style you want. I’ve loved my time with the controlling style of my Morrigan Temptation deck full of ways to stun the enemy units and chip away at my opponent, or my Chun-li Kikosho deck where my units gain multitudes of defenses to allow them to slowly gain strength and overwhelm my opponent.

In six months they have already introduced two new sets of cards, and I can’t wait to see what they add next.

1. Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice

The first time I started banging my head against a FromSoftware game, I thought “maybe this just isn’t for me.” I had gotten through that tutorial zone of Dark Souls with the lesson that I needed to observe and wait for my chances to attack, only to walk into a graveyard full of skeletons that seemed to have more HP and do more damage than the fucking boss I just killed. I’ve come a long way since then. I fell in love with FromSoft’s careful encounter design, the sprawling environments, and even the use of death and punishment to teach. But after three Dark Souls games, I really wanted to see them do something different.

With Sekiro, they finally did. While they did pull forward many of the house design choices that shot them to popularity, this time they made a pure action game. The combat a true masterpiece that, even after 70+ hours of play and going through something like six layers of New Game+, never stopped being engaging in every moment. The big system at the heart of this combat is the posture gauge, which everyone in this world adheres to. When posture is broken the target will be stunned granting the opportunity to perform a deathblow. However, because posture recovers quickly you must be learn to be aggressive, or you will get stuck in long fights that whittle you and your resources down. Sekiro isn’t about waiting to find your windows of attack, but about making them through relentless attacks and quick thinking defense.

This whole system turns every fight into a dance of clashing swords, both parties wrestling back and forth to lead the steps. Time after time I would find a new dance partner who was better than me. I would work and work to learn their steps so I could lead rather than stumbling as I tried to follow. Then, when I would feel like the moves are just too hard for me, I would start the music one more time. Each of my movements would put them in just the right place, every parry they performed would flow right back into my own, and when they were desperate I would step on their blade, completing the dance flawlessly.

All that said, the game does have some issues. The world is full of beautiful vistas looking out across the mountains of Feudal Japan, and it goes into the spirit realm to explore the magical Fountainhead Palace full of fish-like people. Unfortunately the game tends to shy away from the fantastical, while I wish it had embraced more of it. And out of the fourteen bosses in the game, four of them are remixed versions of previous ones. But I never got bored of these fights, I just wanted more.

Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice is now my gold standard action game. I want to dance to the sound of metal striking metal as it rings out over the mountainside again.

Glance, glance, CLANG!

#game of the year #goty #2019

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is-the-fire-real · 1 year ago

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These tags from @falconwhitaker were too good to leave behind.

If your praxis involves 4chan-tier behavior, maybe it's not praxis.

Also from @transmascpetewentz:

This was precisely my intent.

Like @kick-a-long pointed out, the Israel tag is completely unusable. I checked that tag. It's got nothing but Palestine-related content. You can't find anything about Israel. This does not feel like a coincidence, considering how most of these slacktivists do not believe Israel should exist.

Here is a thing: I looked at the USA tag here on Tumblr. Considering that the USA, according to these slacktivists, is the number one source of imperialism and colonialism and General Badness in the world today, you'd expect that tag to be equally broken. You'd expect it to be wall-to-wall photos of people killed by US bombs and weapons, homes and nations ruined by US wars, calls for USians to be very, very ashamed and guilty all of the time for all of the horrible things they've done, and Good USians promising they hate themselves and their nation. Right?

But wrong! There are several political videos and comments, both about the wars in Gaza and Ukraine and about social issues. There's also photography of American landscapes. Discussions of American musical bands and performers. Funny graffiti. Video games. People trying iced tea for the first time.

It seems like USians are permitted to have a tag where they can interact with all aspects of their country, good and bad, cultural and political, despite the many, many, many actions the US government has taken which Tumblr users would rightly find objectionable.

But Israelis are not.

I wonder if there's some qualitative difference between most Israelis and the rest of the world that makes Tumblr users okay with doing this. It can't be wars or perceived genocide; by their definition of genocide, the USA has committed genocide every single day of their lives.

Hmmm. Curious. What could it be?

When I was last on tumblr, it was ten years ago and one of the biggest faux pas you could commit was incorrect tagging.

It was Literally Colonialism to use a tag that was For Certain Oppressed Groups. The actually-autistic tag was created because allistics "took over" the autism tag, and this/other tags became heavily policed by users to make sure they remained a "safe space".

I remember seeing countless posts about how autistics would never be safe if we didn't have a bubble to protect us from interacting with allistics. The same went for tags about transliness and queerness. The going approach used militarized and hyperbolic language to characterize and other folks who weren't in the community: autistics (the group I had the most direct experience with) were attacked by allistic invaders who violated and conquered autistic tagging systems.

The "Literally Colonialism" isn't a joke. I saw plenty of suggestions that to even use a tag which was perceived as being "not yours" was colonization of ideas and thoughts. To be allistic, have an opinion on autism, and tag it as "autism" was held up as being exactly the same as the behavior of empires and nation-states.

Obviously, I don't entirely agree, and don't think this particular hyperbolization is helpful for advocacy or for dialogue. But I do find it interesting how, in the decade since I was last here, it seems to (mostly) still be true that you should only use certain tags if you have a particular identity...

... unless you're not Jewish, in which case feel free to use any and all Judaism-related tags and break the system's meager functionality for Jewish people.

As someone who is using Tumblr to connect to online Judaism, it's daunting to see how many posts under "judaism" are by non-Jews screeching about Israel. Seeing non-Jews openly talk about they tag their posts with gore, rape denial, Holocaust denial, October 7 denial, and other deliberately-triggering material with Jewish-themed tags specifically to make Jewish users of Tumblr feel unsafe. Reading them telling each other about how this is advocacy, this will absolutely win the war for Gazans, and how anybody who blocks them (in order to make sure the tags can actually work as intended) is a genocidal coward. Using that self-same militaristic language to describe their activities, only instead of criticizing, they're bragging.

It's, uh, kind of fucked up.

Imagine going to the actually-autistic tag and finding nothing but a wall of allistics claiming that they've victoriously conquered the tag from those inhuman monsters pretending to have problems when other Real People are the ones who are suffering. I think we would all intuitively understand that this would be Wrong. Even if there was some supposed outward justification for being mad at certain autistics, we would understand that holding all autistics everywhere responsible for it is wrong. That breaking a community's ability to talk to each other is wrong. That trying to trigger people and then telling them to commit suicide is wrong.

And we'd also understand, or come to, that the very action of going "This community I'm not part of doesn't deserve to have this tag, I'mma take it back, or at least ruin it so no one else can have it" is an expression of privilege. It is wrong, and it is immature, and it is cowardice.

These smug, self-involved, active attempts at causing harm make no sense at all if seen as advocacy; they help no one, advance no cause, stop no Zionists (whatever that means) from expressing themselves online.

They only make sense when seen as Jew-hate.

#antisemitism #jew hatred #leftist antisemitism #antisemitism on tumblr #israel #is-the-fire-real original #replies #let me know if you don't want to be featured in this post and i'll happily remove you

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ashadowofburnedoutstardust · 9 months ago

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I do honestly wonder how much more of a pounding the USA is going to take before it cracks completely.

As angry as I am at what's going on with the corrupt bullshit in the US govt I am genuinely sad for the Americans with a conscience trying to do the right thing and fighting with what they have.

I have to give it to you, you've always loved fighting for those ideals and freedoms.

I'm watching a lot of you fight on the right side of history while praying for a peaceful resolution. It's clear at least to me that the old guard has to step aside and let go, their legacy is in pieces as it should be. They know exactly what they should do but keep choosing not to, it only delays the inevitable and makes it worse.

This time next week the world may look very different...a lot can happen in a few hours....

Maybe they should be glad their time left on this earth is limited, the shame they will have to live through until it ends realising all that they have worked towards is a lie.

I do wonder if the bubble these people put around themselves that insulates them from the real world and the rest of us has truly warped them so badly that they genuinely believe the lies of the lives they lead, part of me pities the amount of pain they're about to go through but perhaps not the place they have the chance to reach as a result.

The part of my heart that still allows me to be taken advantage of by other beings with less than pure intentions, my naive optimistic streak that holds out hope for better will sometimes against my better wisdom still hope for their hearts to open and change.

We're all human though aren't we?

Capable of both deep darkness, and the brightest light

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everything-is-crab · 1 year ago

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i just dont see how it's americans' job to care about the whole world... m not saying they should defend their military's actions, and plenty of americans DONT agree w the policy decisions post 9/11 but acting like there's anything wrong about caring that 3000 innocent american civilians died a horrific death is a bit ridiculous. you guys are just uncomfortable we are not about me? bird meme. you can mourn your own citizens lost in the wake of 9/11 and americans can mourn theirs.

Oh hey

I was wondering where the stupid crowd went cause everytime I speak about the GS I always get at least one weird anon.

Actually I don't think I ever said there's anything wrong with people mourning deaths. I was objecting to Americans making jokes about our issues and tragedies and then getting mad when anyone else does it back at them. You can't be hypocritical that way and not expect people to be angry at you. If you want them to respect your tragedies then start respecting those people first. Stop making jokes about atomic bombing, stop joking about how you would be illegal in other countries and executed cause homosexuality is criminalized there and just fucking stop.

And I don't think we're the ones getting triggered when you mourn your people's loss. You are. Look at the replies to this post for example. Whiny yankees.

So what do you want us to do? Don't expect American liberals to empathize with rest of the world but when we do it on our own then you tell us we're stealing your day.

If 9/11 isn't the appropriate day to grieve for brown people in the GS, then what day is? You never like when people point out US imperialism and your own involvement in it (whether direct or indirect) regardless of what day it is.

And the thing that makes us mad is cause 9/11 had a bigger impact on the Middle Eastern countries that US intervened in than it did on Americans. This is a hard fact you can't deny. Look at the conditions of the countries where the result of your government and your support (even if it was in the past) manifest more clearly than the effects of 9/11 on the USA as a whole nation. Your own intelligence agency was involved in and that's not a conspiracy theory but a confirmed fact. And yet people are like "they had it coming". Idk why you guys act like 9/11 wasn't actually an incentive for the US government to gain support from its own citizens for the Iraq War. Are you really gonna pretend that a huge percentage of your population didn't adopt any Islamophobic beliefs during that time? We don't gaf that you regret it now when you don't recognize the Iraqis, Afghans, Syrians etc as the primary victims even today despite claiming to be regretful.

You're just whiny nationalists who can't gaf about anyone but yourselves after plunging entire nations into instability.

Unless you're right winger I wanna know your politics. Cause actually people from the GS have asked you to not interfere in our jobs and "care" for us. Everytime your government tried to "care" for us it has never turned out well. So idk what bullshit you're sprouting here cause you clearly don't know shit about US imperialism.

But if you're an activist (or a person interested in activism) it is your responsibility to be aware of your government's international crimes. Regardless of nationality. Have some accountability.

It is important to do so cause neither the American left nor the American right has ever been anti imperialist. That leads to ignorance and ignorance leads to neutrality or worse, support for the imperialists cause your media is great at spreading propaganda and misinformation. One of the people I follow posted some data on how the American left as of today supports foreign interventions more than the right (the user is inqilabi if you need to search or just Google it, the survey was pretty recent).

I wanna know why American liberals have sm resistance to owning accountability. I am not from the Middle East btw I am Indian (a country that's currently US allied and has chosen to protect US hegemony so I am definitely not buying into any propaganda our government is spreading).

And people in my country are very Islamophobic too. Despite from being a third world poor nation that has been colonized in the past, the liberals in my country hold nothing back while protesting against the Islamophobia.

And I just know this sentiment of yours, wanting to care more for American victims of 9/11 than anyone else, is nationalist cause that's how nationalists in my country speak too.

They focus only on terrorist attacks like 26/11 to push Islamophobic propaganda (even though the attackers were Pakistani and not Indian Muslims) while completely ignoring the numerous events of massacre of Muslim people in the country throughout history.

I am very familiar with that kind of talk. So you can't fool me into thinking that most Americans are actually very nice progressive people who actually don't hold anything against Muslims.

#ask #anon #anti imperialism

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rentolysander · 2 years ago

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3/10/23

Why must everything come to an end? It seems cliche to say that we should enjoy what we have in the moment while we still got it, but maybe thats the truth in it all. Everything is fleetin, everything that we call our own, isn’t/ Its just our turn to have it. Everything comes to an end/ Nothing lives on forever. Not even a legacy can make you immortal. But lets go back to enjoying the moment/ The eternal “Now” as many philosophers and religious folk put it. Why is that the best we get? It seems overrated. Just to be happy and at peace with being present. I don’t know but it sounds like a load of shit. Maybe I’ll never expereince it.

I guess if everything lived on forever, nothing would really matter. Well, I take that back, everything ends, and yet, nothing matters still. Every man will be forgotten, every deed will be done. It’s hard not to despair, not to wonder why. It’s hard to motivate yourself to do anything. The abyss is deep and it’s hard to escape. I don’t know what I’ll do. It seems that I’ve caught myself in quite the bind.

At first I thought I could set arbitrary goals for myself. Reach certain numbers, certain measurements, certain achievements. It all pales in the eyes of the fact that nothing I do will stop myself from dying. It’s even more terrifying knowing that I will probably live another 70 years, all with this fact in the back of my mind. How can I go on?

“A man who is a pessimist before 48 knows too much; if he is an optimist after it he knows too little.”

Something doesn’t feel right. Why do we all feel this way? Why are we all exhausted, depressed, lonely, and just plain bored? Something is up.

First of all, I will start with myself. Sure you set arbitrary goals, but did you complete them? Sure you made plans, but did you enact them? Do you have everything you want? Do you have the live you want? Did you do the best that you could with what you have? Do you even know what you want? No.

As we can see, it seems that the guilt lies within myself. Even though I have all this time, I didn’t put any of it towards doing anything worth while. Sure it doesn’t really matter, but maybe it could make my life better than just trying to cope with bullshit. I don’t really know what I want for my life. I want a nice physique, I want to be healthy, and I don’t want to work. Er… I don’t want to have a job that feels like a job. Either create something so great that you never have to do anything for the rest of your life, or you rot like everyone else in the work force. That’s my motto. My glimmering spark of hope int he distance. Sure there will be problems on the other side but will they be easier if I know I have the time and energy to deal with them? No job would be nice. Not having to worry about money would be nice. I would become a part-timer if I made it big. Then I could talk to people, do something easy and maybe fun, and talk to cute girls (hopefully!).

Hahahah, I’m a mess. I don’t even feel sad about it. Just confused, but with hope. Misguided maybe. What’s the point of being sad. Maybe my body and mind is trying to tell me something. “Hey dipshit, what are you doing wasting all this time, go out and kill a cow and eat it we need nutrition.” Maybe thats why I’m depressed, I need to go hunting! Sounds like I have cured my problems with some simple questions and have at least given myself something to work on until the inevitable return of my despair. I will have to come up with strategies to keep motivating myself.

Ok, lets reel it in…

So now that myself is taken care of, there’s all of you guys. If we take a look at the suicide rates around the world, the most unhappiest countries are USA, Russia, South Africa, Guyana (what the fuck is happening there btw), Japan, most of europe, Australia. And the lowest rates of suicide are most of Africa, most of South America, China (who knows source of data but I could believe in countryside), Middle East, and the Philippines. So what are we doing that’s so wrong. Well, the obvious answer is society! YEs, that must be it, it’s the blame for everything! Yes and no. I don’t think this 9-5 system is good because we are constantly struggling to pay bills, we are always looking to distract ourselves from our shitty existance, we never have time for friends, family, or ourselves, our attention is being controlled every second of every day, and there’s really nothing you can do about it. Even if you create something great, you become famous and then all the unhappy people want you to make them happy again. It’s like you become a beacon of hope for the masses who can’t provide their own light at the end of the tunnel. That’s why I don’t want to become famous, I don’t want anyone to want something from me. I want to be free too. That is why I respect Sui Ishida a lot for keeping himself anonymous, I think that is the way to do it, especially in this internet age where everyone is the paparazzi. Sure I won’t have people coming up to me int he streets, but I will be able to live my life on my own terms. Maybe Frank Ocean has cracked the code…

Anyways, 9-5 isn’t that good. Sure it gives us a paycheck, but just enough to pay our bills and not enough to give us the ability to leave our jobs. We’ve all heard it a million times, but who ever offers a solution? Everyone likes to complain, but no one tells us what to do, it’s either figure it out yourself, or someone else will fix it… sigh. I guess I’ll be the idiot who tries to speak up.

Based off of my own instinct, I think I have an idea of what to do. It’s possible, but it’s tough.

You can’t give up, and i say this because it’s really easy, just look at my first couple paragraphs hahaha.

Give up all copes

Option 1: Create something worthwhile, business, art, you name it, anything works

Scale it to where you can sell it or have it completely automated or have it “work for you”

Option 2: Cut back your spending to the bare minimum, save everything - will take longer

Leave the places where everyone is killiing themselves, duh

If you can’t then move to the areas where people aren’t killing themselves, most likely a rural area, one that isn’t in the zombie apocalypse or opioid crisis.

Forget about money

Connect with the people there

Farm your own food, please look into regenerative farming

Go from there.

See I really think that this lifestyle we have now is so artificial that everyone just feels like it is fake and meaningless because it is. We’re not dumb, we all know somehting ain’t write. Now I’m not for going in and trying to overthrow the government, think of me opting for something like “Quiet Quitting.”

Whenever I have issues figuring out what I want to do, I like to figure out what I don’t want. I strip away all the excess until I am left with what’s left. I think I should do this with my physical life as well. Go back to basics.

Wow listen to myself babbling on and on. What am I saying? I’m sure this sounds pretty dumb right about now with how jumbled and scrambled my thoughts are. I just felt the need to write and this is what happened. Here I go apologizing and rationalizing, whatever, no edits, I post.

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the-rarest-sexiest-coinkydink · 2 years ago

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If you need an excuse to write for G-Way I can ALWAYS use some kind of snuggly G-Way fic.

Like ...maybe Christmas shopping? Something fun and seasonal...baking cookies??? Snow...something? (I dunno...it's 50° F right now so like ...snow is pretty far off from the south in my neck of the USA)

Anywho...do whatcha want friend, and feel better! :)

💖💖💖🪦

A Hazy Shade of Winter (Gerard Way x reader)

Summary: (y/n)’s never really been the type of person to do Christmassy things before - they don’t hate it, their family was just never that bothered! But Gerard loves all things Christmas, and he decides to show them just how much fun this time of year can be.

Words: 2696

Warnings: none it’s just adorable

AN: it was snowing while I was writing this!!! I haven’t seen proper snow in years!!!

“I can still feel you staring at me. Aren’t you bored yet?”

“I just can’t believe you’ve never made a gingerbread house before!”

(y/n) rolled their eyes with a laugh, glancing back over their shoulder. Gerard was still sitting at the little dining table, so distracted by that monumental bombshell that he’d stopped swinging back and forth on the chair. Had anyone else seen him, they would probably have assumed that he’d just been told the world was going to end. He looked genuinely devastated, baffled at the idea that something he’d loved so much as a kid hadn’t been a part of his partner’s life too.

Drying the last mug, they tossed the tea towel aside and moved to sit opposite him. “Look, it’s not that big of a deal. My family just wasn’t ever that bothered about Christmas, that’s all.”

“But it’s so much fun!” He couldn’t help but frown - so many of his fondest memories had come from enjoying the Christmas season with his family. Sure, there were some parts he hadn’t enjoyed; church services were always far too long and dull for his liking. But there were so many things that would never fail to make him smile. Begging to be the one to carry the Christmas tree home, even though there was no way in hell he was capable of carrying it all that way and hated asking for help. Hiding all his vegetables in very elaborate ways so he’d have tons of room for all the wonderful sweet things on offer. Saving tiny scraps of funky wrapping paper to fill in the gaps of the collage of random crap that covered the walls of his basement room.

The one memory that stood out among all of those was the gingerbread house. Every year, his family had turned the kitchen into an absolute bombsite, trying to outdo themselves and what they’d designed in years past. They actually had a photo album somewhere, thick with pictures of every possible angle of each year’s creation. Every detail had to be perfect: the boiled sweet windows, the piped design for the roof, the little people posed to go about their daily activities. It had started out as a replica of their family, but had soon descended into utter madness. One year, there had been gingerbread aliens and a questionable rendition of Batman and Robin, soon joined by some even worse looking gingerbread zombies. Usually these little additions were Gerard or Mikey’s idea - and their mom was rarely impressed by the way they spoiled her nice tidy handiwork - but it really did make the whole thing something special. Entirely unique to their family.

“And every time you’ve spoken about it, it’s sounded like a great time! And the photos your mom has are incredible.” They smiled, seeing his face brighten up a little. “It’s just... never how my family did things, that’s all. Usually at least one of my parents was working on the day so we never did much through the rest of December. Christmas always felt... I don’t know, a bit anticlimactic? I don’t think the seasonal depression helped either.”

They’d only been together for four months, and there was still so much they had to learn about each other. Clearly, they’d had very different experiences growing up - neither had been bad, just different. And the wonderful thing about that was that it meant they could teach each other all the little things that they had done as kids! There were so many traditions that they could share and combine now, creating new ones that were entirely their own.

Gerard got to his feet, taking (y/n) by the hand and pulling them to stand by the counter. “Let’s make a gingerbread house together.”

“But I don’t know how.”

“That doesn’t matter. I can teach you, and if things go wrong then we’ll just make it up as we go along anyway. That’s half the fun.”

He looked so hopeful, eyes sparkling with childish glee, and there was simply no way they could say no to him. “Okay. But you can’t blame me if we end up setting your kitchen on fire.”

“Hey, joint effort, joint blame. Now, I’m pretty sure I’ve got everything we need in here somewhere...”

It took just about fifteen minutes for him to search through the cupboards, but in the end he’d managed to find everything the two of them would need to make the gingerbread. While he’d been looking, (y/n) had dug through his cupboards for a mixing bowl and baking sheets, excited by the thought of baking together again. They’d tried to make cupcakes a couple of weeks prior, but they had come out slightly burnt because they’d been distracted scraping the remaining batter out of the bowl. It had been tons of fun, and they just knew that this would be the same.

Gerard took the lead, directing his partner to weigh out the right amount of each ingredient while he melted the butter, sugar and syrup together. They were following instructions from a slightly stained handwritten recipe, a sheet written up by his mother that was a little sticky in places - clearly, it was one that got brought out and used on a regular basis.

When it came to kneading the dough, they ended up having to split the mixture in half so they could both get involved; then it became a competition, both trying to create the most phallic shapes they could. That’s what happens when you let two people with the emotional maturity of twelve year olds into a kitchen - food fights and inappropriate jokes.

They let the dough rest for a little while, killing time by leaving floury handprints on each other’s butts and working their way through a bag of chocolate chips that had been hiding in the back of one of the cupboards. When it came to rolling the dough out, they were a little more well behaved - at first. After creating enough rectangular sheets for the walls and roof, along with two little people to represent themselves and some extra details to add, like window frames and doors, all of the leftover dough was used for normal gingerbread cookies. Well, if you can call gingerbread dicks and disproportionate hands flipping the middle finger ‘normal’. After a moment of thinking they added Gerard’s bandmates to the mix too, throwing in some cookies shaped like Frank’s dogs for good measure.

While the dough was in the fridge, they cleaned up all the mess they’d made so far - before creating even more when (y/n) knocked over the bag of sugar. Well, it wasn’t entirely their fault. The only reason their elbow had ended up hitting it in the first place was because Gerard had taken them by surprise, pinning them against the counter and kissing them so hard it felt like they would never breathe properly again.

The beep of the timer stopped their little make out session from going any further and they worked to fit all the trays of gingerbread in the oven at once, both a little red and flustered. As they brought the last tray over, (y/n) stopped dead, staring out the window in wonder.

“When did it snow?”

There was probably a foot of snow on the ground; it seemed like it had appeared out of nowhere! Like it had just flopped out of the sky in one big sheet and landed with a soft thump in a pillowy layer or pure white. Neither of them had noticed it start to fall (probably because they’d been so busy with their tongues down each other’s throats) and the dim afternoon seemed so much brighter now that it had something to reflect off.

The gingerbread only needed ten minutes in the oven, and when it was finished Gerard cleared some space on the counter and set the trays out to cool. Both of them grinned as the smell of sweet gingerbread filled the kitchen, before hissing in pain - at exactly the same time, they had reached for one of the spare cookies and burnt their fingertips. That made the pair of them crack up laughing at their own idiocy, lamenting the fact that they would have to wait for everything to cool down before they could try their creation. So they finished the last of the cleaning instead, bouncing ideas for decorations back and forth.

“What about a little woolly sweater on the dog?”

“We should put ‘elf’ on Frank’s jumper because he’s so tiny.”

“Hey, let’s ice a string of lights around all the windows!”

“I’ll call my mom and ask her how to make the snow out of marshmallow, she always does that and it’s insanely cool.”

By now the real snow outside was falling thick and fast again, blanketing the ground outside with at least two feet of soft white flakes. Gerard couldn’t help but smile at the look of sheer awe on his partner’s face as they stared out of the window, fingers resting lightly against the glass.

“It’s pretty, huh? Not quite as pretty as you, though.”

They didn’t really register the second thing he said, lost in the glorious swirling eddies outside. “I... I’ve never seen snow like this before.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Where I’m from, all we ever got was a crappy layer of slush, or black ice deadly enough to break your neck. I don’t think we ever had more than an inch of actual snow at any one time.”

Resting a hand on the small of their back, he nuzzled against the side of their head. “Wanna go out and play for a little while?”

“I thought we were gonna start decorating?”

“Oh, we can’t do that for a good few hours, at least. The gingerbread needs a while to cool. And, if we’re using my mom’s tricks - which we definitely are, by the way, she is the undisputed queen of gingerbread - then we should leave it overnight. She always says its better when it’s had time to rest properly.”

“Ah.” (y/n) was quiet for a moment, and he started to think that maybe something he’d done had touched a nerve. Maybe he’d upset them somehow. Maybe something he’d said at some point had made their thoughts wander somewhere a little unpleasant. But then they turned to look at him, a quiet sort of hope flickering in their eyes. “Can we... can we make snow angels?”

“Hey, of course we can! They might not be there by the morning though, with the way that snow’s falling it wouldn’t surprise me if we woke up to a couple more feet.”

“That’s fine. I’ve just never done it before.”

“Oh, so we are absolutely doing it today then. Come on.”

Within five minutes, the pair of them had their shoes on and were zipping up each other’s coats, sifting through the drawers of random crap in the hall cupboard to find enough hats, scarves and gloves to keep them both nice and cosy. The second they were all bundled up, Gerard took (y/n) by the hand and practically dragged them into his backyard. The snow came up to their knees, soaking through their jeans - the cold was uncomfortable, but it soon became easy to ignore. The very first thing the two of them did was lay backwards, (y/n) squeaking as snow slipped into the hood of their coat. Once they were laid flat, Gerard explained just how snow angels worked, giggling a little as his coat swished against the snowy ground with every movement. They got the hang of it soon enough, feeling a bit uncoordinated at first but very much enjoying it anyway.

When he was satisfied with the mark he’d left, Gerard struggled back to his feet and hauled his lover upwards, kissing them deeply. “Hey, look what we did!”

They glanced down, smiling at the sight before them. The two snow angels were slightly wonky - like the people who’d created them - and close enough to be almost holding hands. They were ever so slightly marred by footprints, but beautiful nonetheless.

(y/n) beamed, cheeks feeling red raw from the cold wind. “Aw, they’re so cute! They look just like the ones you see in cartoons.”

“I know, right? Now, you feeling up to a little snow friend as well? Or are you getting too cold?”

“Snow friend, definitely.”

By the time they had managed to roll two decent sized balls - one for a body and one for a head - their noses were bright red and neither of them could really feel their fingers any more. But they just weren’t ready to go back inside yet; they were having far too much fun! Who cares about a little frostbite when you’re having the time of your life with the person you love?

Finding things to decorate their snow friend with was a little more challenging - by now, the snow was thick enough that they weren’t going to find anything on the ground to use. So they had to get creative. The standard carrot for the nose was pretty easy to find in the kitchen - and along with it came two frozen brussels sprouts for the eyes. Deciding that it was doing very little against the cold anyway, (y/n) donated their scarf to their new little buddy. Gerard liked that idea and gave up his hat, a dusting of snow settling across his hair as he tried to fit it onto the head. The two of them were a bit stuck for ideas on what to use for the arms, eventually deciding on a pair of spare drumsticks that they found in his office - why Gerard had drumsticks, neither of them really knew. They'd just sort of appeared there.

Standing in front of their slightly lopsided creation, Gerard wrapped his arms around his lover's waist and grinned. "Well they're a little crooked, but very sweet. Any ideas on a name?"

They thought for a moment, shivering now they had stopped moving around so much. "They kinda look like a Norman to me."

"Norman, huh? Yeah, I think that fits." The twilight above them was quickly darkening, and both of them were definitely feeling the cold. "Wanna head in now?"

"Yeah, I think that's a good idea. I haven't been able to feel my toes for the last twenty minutes."

When they got back inside, the smell of gingerbread seemed even stronger than it had done earlier, and the two of them felt instantly warmer - even though their fingertips were a slightly questionable shade of purple. They left their damp gloves and coats hanging up to dry by the door, giggling all the way up the stairs as they peeled off their icy wet clothes and searched through Gerard's drawers to find something for (y/n) to wear. It was getting to the point in their relationship now where they were staying over at his house with some regularity, and he was considering asking if they'd like to have a drawer to keep some stuff in. They already had a toothbrush in his bathroom. That was just the next natural step.

Once they were both in warmer, drier clothes, they went back down to the kitchen, still cold to the bone but slowly warming up. Gerard made hot chocolate for each of them, piling each mug with such a large amount of whipped cream and marshmallows that it was practically impossible to drink without making a complete mess of things.

As they snuggled up on the couch, huddling under the blankets and letting the mugs warm their hands, Gerard pressed a kiss to the side of (y/n)'s head. "So, did I successfully get you to enjoy some Christmassy things today?"

"Yeah, you did." They smiled softly, nuzzling against him. "I can enjoy anything when I'm with you."

"You might not say that tomorrow when I start icing those gingerbread men to look like storm troopers instead of us."

"I bet I can ice better looking ones than you can."

"Oh, you've just started a gingerbread war."

"Yeah, and I'll win."

"I'd like to see you try."

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