Y'know I had fun with wplace for a few hours making art and stuff but then I learned about the transmisogynist hate campaign an ex-mod has been put through and I kinda don't wanna touch it with a 10 foot pole anymore
For context! If you don't know, WPlace is a website with the same premise as Reddit's r/place, but done in an entire map of the world.
At one point some Spanish streamer decided to cover the entire country of Andorra with black and purple pixels because it was his brand. This of course covered existing artwork so a tgirl mod started banning the griefers for breaking the rules.
The streamer's fans, seeing this, rallied against her by harassing her intensely and doxxing her, all to the point she attempted suicide. The mods responded to this by kicking her off the mod team, apologizing to the streamer and gifting his fans 5000 droplets (pixels to color).
Of course this caused intense backlash among its community, so the mod team wrote a response where they spouted countless lies about her, like saying she was actually banned for vandalizing artworks, threatened to sue the website and that her suicide attempt was faked for attention. She was banned from the Discord server where this statement was put in beforehand so she didn't have a chance to defend herself.
Documenting the Damage:
100 Harmful Policies from the First 100 Days of Trump's Second Term
The second Trump administration has had the busiest first 100 days of any US presidency in nearly a century. Since January, I've been keeping a spreadsheet documenting 900+ policy changes and political developments. I then bundled many of the most important changes into 100 topics areas and wrote a summary of each of them, providing a semi-comprehensive account of the tremendous changes to US politics which have occurred.
Folks, this is an incredible piece of journalism reflecting a tremendous amount of research, effort, and thought.
It's completely free, brilliantly made, and I am incredulous that it had been so narrowly shared on Tumblr.
I am in awe of what Brett has done here. Please click through and read at least some of this because I think people are really missing out on what an incredible tool this is.
It's a quick reference, it's an archive (it's SO rich in sources and references), it's an explainer, and it is a point-by-point means of de-normalizing the trump administration to anyone in your life who thinks things aren't that bad.
Part of what both trump admins have done, and that the second one has been very, very successful at, is running a shock and awe campaign of things that are so overwhelming and awful that people check out because they can't maintain attention for the continual hammering of information. What Brett has done here is an absurd feat of attention, keeping on top of the tidal wave and breaking it down so that we can see the actions of the administration in plain black and white without the feeling of being pummeled by increasingly panicked news stories.
There are a ton of things to panic about, to take immediate action about, to be outraged about - you shouldn't feel guilty about missing an HHS rule change while you're protesting ICE or having your gender erased - but part of why this document is so impressive is that it DID keep track of those changes and rollbacks that are blips in the news cycle, and it did so pretty much in real time. The fact that it was completed so soon after the first 100 days is staggering, and it's so incredibly useful to have this as a reference NOW instead of as a retrospective five years after the fact.
Really. Seriously. This is so fantastic. Please take a look at it.
It's not comforting, it IS alarming, and it is nonetheless one of the most approachable and motivating in-depth pieces of political journalism I've ever seen.
Apparently in China peach wood (Along with the rest of the plant) is believed to have properties that repel evil spirits, a little similar to silver in European legends or iron for both European fae and West Asian/Middle eastern Jinn. Taoists sometimes keep swords made of peach wood because of this. This made me realize something. If you took a peach wood stick, and attached studs to it of both silver and iron you'd end up with a club or staff (or mace, flail etc.) that would have the weaknesses of many kinds of supernatural creatures while still retaining effectiveness as a normal weapon (peach is a hardwood and silver's poor edge retention doesn't matter for studs). You could even keep adding new stud materials to get something ridiculous that affects over 120 catalogued folkloric monsters. Since you just need a few little studs you could even get some really expensive materials like meteoric iron (a thumb tip sized meteorite can still cost like 10-20 bucks I think). I could somewhat feasibly make a weapon that affects every monster ever thought to walk the earth, from vampires and werewolves to jinn and jiangshi and even mankind.
reminder that adhd medication isn't a luxury or preference, but a lifesaving medication. a 10 year long study in the usa showed that, when properly medicated, the rate of car crashes people with adhd get into goes down significantly--men's rate drops by 38%, and women's by 42%. the med shortage, denial of meds by doctors, rising prices, and war on drugs has killed--with such a car dependent society, not driving frequently isn't an option, which means we need better healthcare and need it now.
https://shorturl.at/8VD8B
edit because i forgot to explain: short link is to an article by the washington post, it should be free to read
I'm pretty sure there's also been a study that unmedicated ADHD increases the risk of developing dementia in old age. I'll get back to yall when I find the study
@icy-moons thank you for this incredibly important addition!!! People with adhd are almost 3 times as likely to get dementia, and the way to prevent that is stimulant medication--more people need to know this
Hey, so, Patreon is lying to you about Apple forcing their hand.
Patreon is getting rid of 1st-of-the-month/per-creation billing, claiming a new decision by Apple has forced their hand. This will hurt a lot of creatives, and their excuse is bullshit. Allow me to explain.
In 2018, Patreon tried to impose a new ill-considered fee structure on everyone that would have cost creators a lot of smaller pledges. They ended up apologizing for this profusely; they have now deleted this apology from their website and unfortunately I was unable to find it on the Internet Archive. This was shameful, but to their credit they backed off quickly when things got ugly.
Back in 2021, Patreon discussed plans to force all creators into a rolling bill structure and get rid of first-of-the-month/pay-up-front billing. The community once again very decisively shouted them down, and they had to walk it back again. This whole fiasco damaged the already shaky trust between Patreon creators and staff.
This week, Patreon announced that, along with extra fees, Apple's policies were supposedly forcing them to move everyone over to the rolling fee structure that they first tried to get us to agree to in 2021. Patreon will tell you they are not happy about this. As a person who spent a long time watching Patreon make terrible decisions, I can tell you-- they are probably very happy about this, because it's exactly the smokescreen they needed to do what they've been trying to do for years, which is pull ALL Patreon creators away from 1st-of-the-month and per-creation billing.
The spin in the news I've seen so far is "Apple bullies Patreon, boo hoo hoo poor Patreon". This is very obviously not what's happening. Mind you: Apple does suck, and they are doing something bad here. Fuck apple. But Patreon and Apple are BOTH the asshole in this situation; Everyone Sucks Here. Patreon has options: they can make the iOS app a reader app and do billing through the browser to avoid the restrictions and the extra fees (Netflix and Amazon, notably, both do this), or they can allow creators to opt-out of iOS billing if they want to use billing models that don't work with it.
It seems most likely to me that the Apple situation is a real fire that Patreon has chosen to use as a convenient smokescreen to do what they've been wanting to do since at least 2021, and maybe since 2018.
What do we do?:
They have a feedback form specifically about this.
They also have a creator discord.
And they have lots of social media pages where they probably really, really hope that this doesn't blow up again, because they never learn. The incidents I've described here aren't the only two other times Patreon has pissed off their creators. They know if they don't contain the noise it'll be harder to get away with it, so make some noise. They've done a lot of work to spin this cleverly so you'll have sympathy for them and they won't get the kind of backlash they know they deserve.
Please don't misuse these links and make threats or spam or something. All you have to do is give well-reasoned feedback. Patreon hates feedback. Make sure they get a nice heaping helping of their least favorite vegetable.
Thank you for explaining this so clearly! Patreon has been treating us like garbage for years; blaming all this on Apple is transparently bullshit to anyone who is involved, but harder to explain to anyone outside it.
can we take a moment to just think about how incredibly scary magical healing is in-context?
You get your insides ripped open but your friend waves his hands and your flesh just pulls back together, agony and evisceration pulling back to a ‘kinda hurts’ level of pain and you’re physically whole, with the 100% expectation that you’ll get back up and keep fighting whatever it was that struck you down the first time.
You break your arm after falling somewhere and after you’re healed instead of looking for ‘another way around’ everybody just looks at you and goes “okay try again”.
You’ve been fighting for hours, you’re hungry, thirsty, bleeding, crying from exhaustion, and a hand-wave happens and only two of those things go away. you’re still hungry, you’re still weak from thirst, but the handwave means you have ‘no excuse’ to stop.
You act out aggressively maybe punch a wall or gnash your teeth or hit your head on something and it’s hand-waved because it’s ‘such a small injury you probably can’t even feel it anymore’ but the point was that you felt it at all?
Your pain literally means nothing because as long as you’re not bleeding you’re not injured, right? Here drink this potion and who cares about the emotional exhaustion of that butchered village, why are you so reserved in camp don’t you think it’s fun retelling that time you fell through a burning building and with a hand-wave you got back up again and ran out with those two kids and their dog?
Older warriors who get a shiver around magic-users not because of the whole ‘fireball’ thing but the ‘I don’t know what a normal pain tolerance is anymore’ effect of too much healing. Permanent paralysis and loss of sensation in limbs is pretty much a given in the later years of any fighter’s life. Did I have a stroke or did the mage just heal too hard and now this side of my face doesn’t work? No i’m not dead from the dragon’s claws but I can’t even bend my torso anymore because of how the scar tissue grew out of me like a vine.
Magical healing is great and keeps casualties down.
Or maybe magical healing doesn’t leave scars or damage. It is magical, after all.
So after years of fighting, your skin is still perfect. Unmarred. In fact, you’re actually in better shape than regular people who don’t get magical healing when they fall out of trees or walk into doors or cut themselves while cooking dinner. You’re in such good shape that it’s unnatural.
And the really good healing magic takes away more than just the obvious injuries. You first start noticing it after about ten years when you go home and haha, you look the same age as your younger sibling, that’s funny.
Not so funny ten years later when they look older. Or forty years later, when you bury them still looking like you did at twenty. When do you retire from this gig anyway? How much damage is too much damage?
How many times do you glimpse the afterlife, or worse, how many times don’t you? What do you live through, get used to, show no outward sign of except a perfectly healthy body, too perfect for any person living a real life.
How many times are you sitting in a tavern with your friends and you hear the whispers, because the people around you know. How can they not know? Your weapons shine with enchantments and your armour is better than the best money can buy and there is not a damn scar on you. You hardly seem human to them.
How long before you hardly seem human to yourself?
And you find yourself struggling to remember the places where the scars should have been, phantom pains that wake you screaming, touching all the old injuries and finding nothing there. It’s all in your head. Was it ever anywhere else?
How long before you’re fighting a lich or a vampire or some other undead monster and you wonder…
can we take a moment to just think about how incredibly scary magical healing is in-context?
You get your insides ripped open but your friend waves his hands and your flesh just pulls back together, agony and evisceration pulling back to a ‘kinda hurts’ level of pain and you’re physically whole, with the 100% expectation that you’ll get back up and keep fighting whatever it was that struck you down the first time.
You break your arm after falling somewhere and after you’re healed instead of looking for ‘another way around’ everybody just looks at you and goes “okay try again”.
You’ve been fighting for hours, you’re hungry, thirsty, bleeding, crying from exhaustion, and a hand-wave happens and only two of those things go away. you’re still hungry, you’re still weak from thirst, but the handwave means you have ‘no excuse’ to stop.
You act out aggressively maybe punch a wall or gnash your teeth or hit your head on something and it’s hand-waved because it’s ‘such a small injury you probably can’t even feel it anymore’ but the point was that you felt it at all?
Your pain literally means nothing because as long as you’re not bleeding you’re not injured, right? Here drink this potion and who cares about the emotional exhaustion of that butchered village, why are you so reserved in camp don’t you think it’s fun retelling that time you fell through a burning building and with a hand-wave you got back up again and ran out with those two kids and their dog?
Older warriors who get a shiver around magic-users not because of the whole ‘fireball’ thing but the ‘I don’t know what a normal pain tolerance is anymore’ effect of too much healing. Permanent paralysis and loss of sensation in limbs is pretty much a given in the later years of any fighter’s life. Did I have a stroke or did the mage just heal too hard and now this side of my face doesn’t work? No i’m not dead from the dragon’s claws but I can’t even bend my torso anymore because of how the scar tissue grew out of me like a vine.
Magical healing is great and keeps casualties down.
Or maybe magical healing doesn’t leave scars or damage. It is magical, after all.
So after years of fighting, your skin is still perfect. Unmarred. In fact, you’re actually in better shape than regular people who don’t get magical healing when they fall out of trees or walk into doors or cut themselves while cooking dinner. You’re in such good shape that it’s unnatural.
And the really good healing magic takes away more than just the obvious injuries. You first start noticing it after about ten years when you go home and haha, you look the same age as your younger sibling, that’s funny.
Not so funny ten years later when they look older. Or forty years later, when you bury them still looking like you did at twenty. When do you retire from this gig anyway? How much damage is too much damage?
How many times do you glimpse the afterlife, or worse, how many times don’t you? What do you live through, get used to, show no outward sign of except a perfectly healthy body, too perfect for any person living a real life.
How many times are you sitting in a tavern with your friends and you hear the whispers, because the people around you know. How can they not know? Your weapons shine with enchantments and your armour is better than the best money can buy and there is not a damn scar on you. You hardly seem human to them.
How long before you hardly seem human to yourself?
And you find yourself struggling to remember the places where the scars should have been, phantom pains that wake you screaming, touching all the old injuries and finding nothing there. It’s all in your head. Was it ever anywhere else?
How long before you’re fighting a lich or a vampire or some other undead monster and you wonder…
I have googled my life away. I have read bible verses. I have studied the ohilosophical meaning behind the numbers. I have become a modern Gallup trying to ask people to help me figure this out. What the FUCK does it mean.
It's very important to me that younger queers understand this: to the people who you're trying to be more respectable for when you say things like neopronouns set the trans movement back or you're why the cishets don't accept us or including [aces/bi people with the 'wrong kind' of partners/non-binary people/kinksters/non-passing trans ppl/furries/polyam people] just hurts us, can't you wait until we get all our rights before we talk about some of yours? -- to those people? Pete Buttigieg is just a fag.
On Sunday at Pride Northwest, some kids -- late teens, early 20s -- asked what our button I survived Reagan for this? meant. All of the queer adults at the tables making up our ad hoc counter looked at each other and sighed a little. Emet and another adult started to explain the way that the Reagan Administration handled -- or didn't handle -- the beginning of the AIDS crisis. How many people died. How much we were ignored. The Ashes Action. The Time Magazine article which explicitly blamed bisexual men for passing the pandemic to the cishet community, playing on all the worst stereotypical bullshit. The way that even when the CDC started paying attention, they were so focused on gay men that they ignored AIDS in the lesbian community, leading to the "women don't get AIDS, they just die from it" poster. And so on.
I finished counting out change and passed the last Bear Pride raised fist pin over to a bear a little older than me, then turned my head and interjected, "they didn't care until it started infecting more than just the fags." I turned my head back and handed him his change. He laughed bitterly and said, "remember when they called it 'gay cancer?'"
That what I need you to understand. The people for whom you are folding yourself into smaller and smaller boxes will never see you as anything but a freak. A queer. A dyke. A tranny. A fag.
Never.
These are people who will stand by and let you wither away and die alone, gasping for breath in a cinderblock room, and not even claim your ashes, and they will say you deserve it, because of your lifestyle. If they speak of you at all it will be by the wrong name, with the pictures you hate the most. They will curse at your lover, throw him out of the home you shared, and steal the gift you gave last Christmas to throw it in the trash just so he can't have it and they'll say Jesus loves you! while they do it. They'll feel good and righteous and blessed and holy and pure for doing it.
And for them, you spit in the eye of your sister. For them, you disavow your sibling. For their sake, you trim away bits of your heart and lace yourself up tight. Never too loud. Never too queer. Never inconvenient or embarrassing, never asking for too much.
Pete Buttigieg is what happens when your Boomer dad turns out gay. Middle America. Parents still married. Suburban-sprouted. Valedictorian. Harvard-educated. Rhodes Scholarship. Military service. More power to him: I hope he and Chasten are very happy together. Genuinely, I do.
You couldn't create a more respectable gay if you grew one in a lab run by concerned voter focus groups.
But Pete Buttigieg? Is just a fag.
That's the part you don't seem to get: when they abandoned us, they abandoned all of us. Rock Hudson was a beloved movie star and even personally friendly with that horrid pair of ambitious jackals. Nancy Reagan refused to help him get into the only place in the world that could treat him at the time, and he died.
It was 1985, 4 years after the CDC first released papers on what would eventually become known as HIV/AIDS and 7 years after the first known death from an infection from HIV-2. Reagan hadn't even said the word AIDS by the time Hudson died.
Pete Buttigieg is just a fag, and so am I. Unless I'm a dyke, which seems to depend on who's yelling what from which window and what day it is.
Yes, there will be people who genuinely love and accept you. Those people are worth all the frustration of the rest, thankfully, and they're the ones who love you in a pup mask or a leather harness and a neon jock like the ones sold by the men up the row from us last weekend. They're the ones who laugh out loud when you tell them you hid the word "dyke" in your company name, the ones who love you in all your messiness and uncertainty and the way you don't fit into neat boxes all scrubbed up and clean.
Most cishets, though... well, they don't actively mean you specifically any harm, at least not when they have to look at you. Not when you're right there in front of them. Maybe they'll be okay with you, personally, especially if you're the kind of gay who makes a good rhetorical device, and as long as you remain a good rhetorical device.
They need people to know that they don't have a problem with the gays, after all, and there you are, being all convenient. You make a nice token, and as long as you do, well. You're useful.
But they call you by your deadname when you're not around, and they put the wrong pronouns in your medical record even though they met you years after you came out, and they won't put themselves out to save you. Not one little bit.
I didn't want to be here again. The year I graduated from high school was the worst year of the AIDS crisis. The world into which I became an adult was a world in which an advisor and friend to Reagan, William F. Buckley, openly advocated for forcibly tattooing the HIV status of HIV+ gay men on their buttocks (and IV drug users on their forearms), and in which my father not only told me that when I was 14 or so, but when was told me that he'd advocated for that tattoo being "over their assholes."
(Buckley wrote that in '86, but he doubled down on it in 2005.
Fucker.)
But yeah. I didn't want to be here again. I wanted my daughter to inherit a better world. I wanted Obergefell and Lawrence v. Texas and Hope & Change to really mean something. I work for it, today and all days. I haven't given up.
I need you to know that, too. This isn't a white flag. I'm not surrendering. This isn't over. To misquote Henry Rollins, this is what Marsha and Sylvia and Stormé and Leslie and Brenda and Auntie Sugar trained us for. This is punk rock time.
But I need you to understand that if Pete Buttigieg is just a fag, if that human embodiment of a Wonder Bread, mayo and Oscar Meyer bologna sandwich is not respectable enough for them -- and he's not -- then the rest of us have absolutely no hope of measuring up. Not even if we trim away every colorful, beautiful piece of our community, not even if the Sisters Of Perpetual Indulgence vanish into the ether, not even if we sacrifice the five elements of vogue on the altar of white supremacist cishet middle-class conformity: we can't trim ourselves down to something they'll accept.
The only other option is radical acceptance of our queer selves. The only other option is solidarity. The only other option is for fats and femme queens and drags and kinksters and queers and zine writers and sex workers and furries and addicts and kids and the ones who can look us in the eye and see all of us to say we're here, we're queer, get used to it just the way we did 30 years ago. It's revolutionary, complete and total acceptance of our entire community, not just the ones the cishets can pretend to be comfortable with as long as we don't challenge them too much, or it's conceding the shoreline inch by inch to the rising waters of fascism until we've got nowhere left to stand and some of us start drowning.
That's it. Either it's all of us or it's none of us, because if we leave the answer up to the Reagans of the world and all the people who enabled him in the name of lower taxes and Democrats who wring their hands, weeping oh I don't agree with it but we'll lose the election if we fight it right now, the answer is none of us.
nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early
astronaut: moon's stuck in a time loop.
nasa employee: what?
astronaut: *loading a pistol and getting back on the rocket-ship* moon’s stuck in a time loop.
nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early
astronaut: moon's stuck in a time loop.
nasa employee: what?
astronaut: *loading a pistol* moon’s stuck in a time loop. do you have extra ammo? this won’t be enough.
nasa employee: enough for…what?
astronaut: *finding extra clip of ammo, pocketing it, and getting back on the rocket-ship* don’t worry about it!
nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early
astronaut: moon's stuck in a time loop.
nasa employee: what?
astronaut: *emerging from supply closet with a space harpoon, getting back on the rocket-ship* moon’s stuck in a time loop.
nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early astronaut: oh hey u guys are back early
astronaut: moon's stuck in a time loop.
nasa employee: what?
astronaut: what?
nasa employee: how did you know what i was going to say?
astronaut: *punching in key pad code for base evacuation signal, getting back on the rocket-ship* i told you…moon’s stuck in a time loop.
*red warning lights begin flashing*
nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early
astronaut: moon's stuck in a time loop.
nasa employee: what?
astronaut: *rifling thru bookshelf of operating instructions, selecting one that says “AIRLOCK MANUAL OVERRIDE INSTRUCTIONS,” getting back on the rocket-ship* moon’s stuck in a time loop.
nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early
astronaut: moon's stuck in a time loop.
nasa employee: what?
astronaut: moon’s stuck in a time loop. hey, do you have anything to eat? i’m starving. *opens random drawer, finds nothing, closes it*
nasa employee: a time loo- uh, we don’t have food in here…we can’t…eat in the control room, only the break-room.
astronaut: *sighs*
nasa employee:…my lunch is in like 10 minutes, though, and if my lunch is actually STILL THERE and not STOLEN, AGAIN, i can share it with yo-
astronaut: nah, that’s ok…no time. *loading a pistol and getting back on the rocket-ship* or…too much time. but thanks, anyway. OK, bye!
*alarm begins blaring*
nasa employee: you’re…welcome? wait, a TIME LOOP?!
nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early
astronaut: yup.
nasa employee: …?
astronaut: *sitting down next to nasa employee* so…do you ever like…wonder what the meaning of life is? the secrets of the universe?
nasa employee: aren’t you supposed to be ON the MOON?!
*alarm begins blaring*
nasa employee: hey, what the hell is that?
astronaut: that’s the code red override klaxon. moon’s stuck in a time loop. oh, and there’s an explosion imminent. But don’t worry, we can deal with that tomorrow. So, you have any siblings? *pulls beer out of space suit, cracks tab* want a drink?
nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early
astronaut: do you know frank in IT?
nasa employee: what?
astronaut: do you know frank, who works in IT?
nasa employee: yeah, but why are you guys back so early?
astronaut: moon’s stuck in a time loop. call frank, tell him there’s a virus in the security patch and the system’s compromised. then get the hell out of the base.
nasa employee: wait what? what? where are you guys going?
astronaut: *loading a pistol and getting back on the rocket-ship* back to the moon. it’s stuck in a time loop. call frank!
nasa employee: *picks up phone* ugh, straight to voicemail. i wonder wha-
*alarm begins blaring*
nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early
astronaut: *grim silence*
nasa employee: i said, you guys are back early…hey, what are you…?
astronaut: *randomly opening drawers until they find a pair of scissors and some duct tape, getting back on the rocket-ship* moon’s stuck in a time loop.
nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early
astronaut: moon's stuck in a time loop.
nasa employee: what?
astronaut: *loading a pistol and getting back on the rocket-ship* moon’s stuck in a time loop.
*sticks head back out the door of the rocket-ship* by the way, if you go to the break-room in exactly 2 minutes and 45 seconds, you’ll catch the person who’s been stealing your lunches for the past two weeks.
nasa employee: what?! WHO IS IT?!
*alarm begins blaring*
nasa employee: *running for the break-room* FUCK!!!!
nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early
astronaut: moon's stuck in a time loop.
nasa employee: what?
astronaut: *sits down, sighs, pulls a beer out from their spacesuit* moon’s stuck in a time loop.
nasa employee: …ok, and? hang on, how did you get a beer? you can’t have that in here.
astronaut: what do you know about project floyd?
nasa employee: I mean, the usual amount? i’m not really on the project anymore, why?
*alarm begins blaring*
astronaut: COME WITH ME TO THE ROCKET-SHIP, we don’t have ti-
nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early
astronaut: yeah. moon's stuck in a time loop.
nasa employee: what?
astronaut: *loading a pistol and getting back on the rocket-ship* moon’s stuck in a time loop. see you tomorrow. maybe.
nasa employee: WHAT?!
nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early
astronaut: moon's stuck in a time loop.
nasa employee: what?
astronaut: *sighs, rubs hands over face, and loads pistol, before getting back on the rocket-ship* moon’s stuck in a time loop. and, uh…you should call your mother like you’ve been meaning to. and tell her you’re not actually mad and that you will come to dinner tonight. you’re gonna be hungry.
nasa employee: wait, what? WHAT?? how do you know my mom?! why am i gonna be -
*alarm begins blaring*
nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early
astronaut: moon's stuck in a time loop.
nasa employee: what?
astronaut: *grabbing two pistols, an extra box of ammo, a pair of scissors, some duct tape, a space harpoon, and a booklet of operating instructions that says “AIRLOCK MANUAL OVERRIDE INSTRUCTIONS,” starting to get back on the rocket-ship, but dropping everything with a horrendous clatter* FUCK! goddamn moon’s stuck in a time loop.
*alarm begins blaring*
nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early
astronaut: moon's stuck in a time loop.
nasa employee: what? also, hey, where’d you get that duffel bag?
astronaut: *grabbing two pistols, an extra box of ammo, a pair of scissors, some duct tape, a space harpoon, and a booklet of operating instructions that says “AIRLOCK MANUAL OVERRIDE INSTRUCTIONS,” shoving them into the bag, and getting back on the rocket-ship* moon’s stuck in a time loop.
nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back earl-
astronaut: *grabs nasa employee and kisses them passionately*
nasa employee: what? WHAT?!
astronaut: *loading a single pistol and getting back on the rocket-ship* moon’s stuck in a time loop, sweetheart.
nasa employee: what?!?
astronaut: a time loop!!! i love you!!! get out of the base!!! stay alive!!!
nasa employee: *presses fingers to lips, confused but intrigued, as alarm begins blaring*
nasa employee:….
nasa employee:…
nasa employee: ho hum what a regular day at the office
*alarm begins blaring*
nasa employee: what the hell is that?!
nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back earl-
astronaut: *grabs nasa employee and kisses them passionately*
nasa employee: what? what?! WHAT!?!? also, hey, where’d you get that duffel bag?
astronaut: *grabbing two pistols, an extra box of ammo, a pair of scissors, some duct tape, a space harpoon, and a booklet of operating instructions that says “AIRLOCK MANUAL OVERRIDE INSTRUCTIONS,” shoving them into the bag, then cupping nasa employee’s cheek with free hand* moon’s stuck in a time loop.
nasa employee: the moon’s stuck in a what?!
astronaut: a time loop, sweetheart, but we don’t have much time ourselves, so you have to listen to me RIGHT now
nasa employee: *faintly* …“sweetheart”?!
astronaut: in 2 minutes and a few seconds, you need to go into the break-room and find frank.
nasa employee: wait, frank from IT?
astronaut: yes.
nasa employee: how do you know he’s gonna be in the break-room? i can’t just call him at his desk right now?
astronaut: how do i know this?! because, one, time loop, ok? and…also…because…heismaybetheguywhohasbeenstealingyourlunchfortwoweeks
nasa employee: that BASTARD i KNEW it
astronaut: BUT THAT’S NOT WHAT’S IMPORTANT RIGHT NOW. hey! listen to me! go in there, catch him red-handed with your burrito, and tell him lunch is on you FOREVER if he goes RIGHT NOW and checks the last security patch - because there’s a virus and the whole system’s compromised. then you need to get the hell out of this base, ok?
nasa employee: …ok. ok. and…and what about you?
astronaut: *cocking pistol and getting back into rocket-ship with duffel bag* me? i’m gonna shoot for the moon.
EPILOGUE:
nasa employee: so, how many loops in total?
astronaut: i mean, it was hard to keep track. somewhere around six months, if i had to guess.
nasa employee: damn.
astronaut: yeah.
nasa employee: and in those six MONTHS, the best zinger you came up with was “shoot for the moon”?
astronaut: hey, you know what, i had some other stuff on my mind!
nasa employee: i mean, i guess. it sounded like you found time to flirt with me each time.
astronaut: yeah, like i said. other stuff on my mind.
*they look at each other, blush, and look away*
astronaut: sooooooo. you’re sure your mom is cool with me coming over for dinner?
nasa employee: can’t make the day any weirder. plus, i owe you for ratting out frank, right?
astronaut: he did help us save the world; we can’t be too mad at him.
nasa employee: you’ve had a little while to get over it, i might need some more time. and it wasn’t even your food!
astronaut: ok, that’s fair. what if i buy you lunch to make up for it?
nasa employee: hmm, when?
astronaut: tomorrow?
nasa employee: well, i’ll have left overs from my mom, and you might too if you play your cards right. day after tomorrow?
astronaut: honestly, anytime is good for me.
