you said you were stuck in a time loop, which was fine. i feel like late-stage capitalism has us all in a time loop, ammiright? you came barging in at 5:33. in the morning. i hadn't even processed the idea of coffee.

but you had this look of utter panic in your eyes. terror like the ocean. you grabbed my cheeks. im in a time loop.

i don't know why in movies the first reaction is to deny it. when someone is panicking like that, it's not appropriate to ask them to calm down. it didn't matter if i believed it, what mattered was that you believed it so much that it was consuming you.

so here we are. i pour you some of the dark roast. "you look like utter and entire hell," i say.

you push your fingers into your eyes. "you always say that."

i try to think of something funny to say that i wouldn't have said on previous time loops, but jokes don't land without the proper timing (lol). "remind me to think -"

"-yeah, of a joke that only works in the future. and before you say anything, i know you're pissed i just stole your punchline." you bolt the coffee, which is wild. it's very hot. you don't seem to notice.

i blow on mine to cool it down. i both am very pissed at you and also i can't see you in this amount of panic without wanting to help. but i'm also not really sure what we are, not since i saw you kiss her like that, no offense. it just was like, kind of rude when you knew i liked you.

and besides. i'm just like, barely a person. i write omegaverse fanfiction. i love the concept of a time loop, but what the fuck am i gonna do? send an alpha in there? i open my mouth.

you point at me. "you're about to ask why me. and then say some disparaging shit about yourself. i'm just a nerd who plays dnd or something. that self-own is slightly different each time." you sigh. "i know you think you can't really help me. i don't know who can help me. i only came to you because you fucking believe me." you check your watch, sigh, and throw your head back. you cover your eyes with one hand. "i've come here on 26 separate revolutions," you say. "you have believed me every time. and yeah, i have no idea how you fit into this but i just -" you sigh again. "i just like fucking talking to someone about it."

"do you need more cof-" i start, but you're already holding the empty cup out. i frown at it. "you're not getting any more until you promise not to bolt this one like an animal."

you laugh a little and sit up, pushing your hair out of your face. "okay, that's new dialogue. but to be fair to you, i'm not usually this rude. i'm still pretty new at all of this." you check your watch again. another sigh. i guess you're cruising for a personal best in the Sigh Olympics.

i almost tell you im not an NPC but i've played enough video games to know i'm very much an NPC. i pour you another cup. "so what happens in the loop?"

"really bad explosion." you mutter into the mug. you put your elbows on the table (rude) and bury your face in your arms like an angsty teenager. one hand floats up while you talk, because evidently you literally can't talk without your hands. "i have to save the day and there's this bomb and i have no bomb training and it keeps moving, you know."

"do i die?"

you peek up from your arms. "yeah. bigtime. you keep trying to run or stay or do anything and you always super die."

"oh."

"to be fair, like, everyone dies in it though.... so you're in good company."

i hate that you make me laugh. i hate that being around you always feels tingly and strange, this electric tension between us. something that is evidently (given how you stuck your tongue down a stranger's throat literally 3 days ago) (well. 3 for me) super one-sided. i take a sip of my coffee and close my eyes.

i die today, i guess. a little spark of panic starts at the top of my hands and starts whipping up my wrists.

"shit," you say. you look at your watch and jump to your feet. "i have to go. if i can come back, i will. i am still trying to figure out when is best to do everything, you know? the order of stuff. maybe morning isn't good for us."

i look up at you and think about how you keep kissing me in the back of my car and in alleyways and in the dark. and i can never fucking get a read on you. and i also think about how incredibly panicked you look. how broken. how long have you been doing this? "i don't want to die," i say.

you glance downwards. "well, you're not really dead, you'll come back in the loop."

"but i will have died." my hands are shaking. i am trying really hard to stay calm.

you push your hands through your hair again. "i really have to go. i will have this discussion with the next version of you, though. it is like, something i am thinking about."

"but i don't get a next version," i say. i don't really have the language for this, because i haven't had 26 tries with you. i only have my memories: you, a week ago. drunk and telling me you loved me in my ear. you, kissing her anyway. you, months ago, throwing up on my birthday, whispering to me i ruin everything i touch, always, over and over. please don't ask. i can't ever fucking have that be you.

i run my finger along the rim of the mug. "i don't want to die in this one."

you seem baffled by this. "i get that but - time will reset, you'll be fine, you won't even remember we talked about this."

"but i know now." i stand up too. "i have to live the rest of this day knowing i could die. knowing i probably am going to."

"you could always die, to be fair."

i feel my hands get out of control. "earlier, you said i always say a different insult about myself. what if you're just going through different parallel universes and those are all just different - but real - versions of myself? what if you're not in a time loop, you're in a fucking universe loop?"

"if it helps, i've wondered this too. also, you're hot in all of them. if that helps."

i point at you. "no flirting. i'm trying to figure out if i die today."

"who's flirting?" you catch my wild hands and give me that long, perfect smile. like we're in this together. "i won't let ya die." you check your watch and sigh again. "well. maybe not this time."

i grit my teeth. you are so not making quips at me while i try to explain the existential dread i'm having. "does the time loop reset if i fucking kill you?"

"honestly i don't know how long it continues after i die, because i just wake up. it could be that the loop goes until the explosion for everyone, and we're all in the loop, or it could be that when i die, the loop restarts. when i die i wake up, is all."

i pull away from you and stalk into the kitchen and start doing all 3 of my dishes. "okay, first, you know i was joking. and secondly, this is exactly my point. you don't know if this is just a parallel universe. maybe in the ones where you died, the explosion happened and nobody reset and it's just you travelling." i have to stop and push the heel of my palm into my eyeball. "... how often have you died?"

i look at you. you look at me. you give me this very sad, halfway smile and a little what can ya do shrug. something in that action seems so old and weary that i want to burst into tears.

"i have to go," you say. "really. for real. there's this family of five i save from getting into a car crash. and i know it's like oh but we're all gonna die in the explosion anyway, what's the point. and..." you shrug again. "it matters to me, is all. at least i saved them for now. at least i saved anything."

you pad over to me and wrap me in a tight hug. you always seem so tall against me. i feel your cheek rest against the top of my head for a moment. for a second, it's just us, and the space is warm, and my heart is a little broken hare.

you leave me there, and i stand in my stupid badly lit kitchen with my stupid mugs. i think about you. i start texting my mom that she needs to get out of the city, but it feels pointless.

i don't know what to do. tomorrow is the same day for you. but i have to prepare to die in my today.

youtube video: can i survive a week in the dark cave with only 5$

the thumbnail: handing 1$ to a centipede

look at this video of a mouse eating soup and bread and butter

sorry, it's a GOOD thing if cishet people use non-conforming pronouns or dress in non-conforming ways or whatever else. for one, that person may not be cishet. but more importantly, living in a society where more people feel comfortable exploring their relationship to gender and sexuality is an undoubtedly GOOD thing

you don’t gotta tell me to boycott the Nintendo prices by not buying bc i don’t have the money to get them anyways

Back in the naughties, especially in New Atheist circles, you used to see the line a lot that the reason religious people invented the afterlife was because they were scared of dying and they needed a comforting lie to sleep better at night. Incidentally, that's not true; aside from the problem that people in the past generally believed in their religion, and this whole line of reasoning (along with "religion was invented solely to control the masses") assumes a level of cynicism by religious leaders that historically is actually quite rare, we have a pretty good cognitive framework for why human beings tend to come up with a belief in spirits, ghosts, and gods, and why that tends to lead to a belief in an immaterial spirit world and (quite naturally from there) an afterlife.

Research into the cognitive aspect of spiritual beliefs has explored human intuitions about the self include its partability and permeability, which I think I've mentioned here before; our intuitions about ascribing agency to phenomena in our environment, even when no agency is immediately evident (a sort of overly-cautious tripwire for evading predators) and our overactive tendency toward pattern-matching lend themselves naturally to belief in invisible, intelligent agents shaping the world around us. When you combine that natural tendency to believe in such agents, plus intuitions about a self that can include a separate immaterial component, and the ways in which (for example) the feeling of a familiar presence can be triggered by some stray bit of sensory input or a misinterpreted environmental cue, it is very common for societies to develop a belief that the dead continue to exist in some form and continue to act in the world, possibly from some invisible spirit realm, because that is something that people are just straightforwardly experiencing on a day-to-day basis. In that sense, belief in something like a soul and something like an afterlife is more like a belief in rainbows or solar eclipses--sure, people might get the underlying phenomenological explanation for what they're seeing wrong, but they're not speculating, they're doing their best to interpret the actual experience of feeling the presence of dead loved ones and their apparent agency in the world.

That said, in the case of Christianity, we also know historically the framework that motivated the development of specifically Christian doctrines about the afterlife, which emerges from the context of Second Temple Judaism at the turn of the era. Here, the motivation was not one of comfort stemming from fear of death, it was one of morality and the problem of evil. Earlier thinking in the sort of broader Levantine cultural sphere had mostly envisioned the problem of evil as being one related to divine favor and punishment; God or the gods rewarded the righteous and punished the wicked in this life (cf., for instance, all the narratives in the Old Testament where God sends this or that conqueror to punish the people for their sins). Increasing philosophical sophistication, literature grappling with the ways in which the world could be patently unjust (like the Book of Job), and political circumstances like the conquest of Judea by the Romans and the evident lack of divine retribution against these oppressors, all led to dissatisfication in some quarters with that earlier theodicy. IIRC the influence of Greek philosophy and Greek thinking about the afterlife also played a role here.

Transposing the balancing of the moral scales to the afterlife, as some Second Temple-era thinkers did, helped construct what felt like a more intuitively correct theodicy: the wicked still got their comeuppance, even if you didn't get to personally witness it, and the righteous still got their reward. The exact nature of that comeuppance was up for grabs for a long time--there are like three different competing visions of what damnation looks like in the New Testament, and it's not until later that "eternal conscious torment" wins out as the favored position among most Christians. The righteous were always guaranteed salvation; but we know this wasn't a sop to people who were frequently scared of death because the idea that martyrdom guaranteed salvation was so compelling you had Christians begging the Roman authorities to put them to death, and even groups like the Circumcellions who attacked armed soldiers with clubs in the hopes that they could provoke martyrdom-by-cop. And you could paint these guys as fanatical outliers, but again, people in the past generally believed their religions, and we have mountains of writing, art, poetry, and music by Christians over the course of two thousand years where people are worried about a lot of things related to death (did I live a good life? will I go to heaven?) but who do not seem to be philosophically troubled by the question of whether the afterlife actually exists.

And of course the conflict between reflective and intuitive cognition is relevant here; one might reflectively believe in the afterlife, but intuitively recoil from deadly harm. I do not want to suggest that religious belief can trivially overwhelm human instinct to survive. But "the afterlife was invented as a comforting lie" is overly dismissive and flattens a complex phenomenon. It is, in its own way, a comforting lie--the lie that people in the past were all stupid, superstitious rubes, that we are infinitely smarter and more sophisticated than them, that progress will ultimately consign all such supernatural thinking to the dustbin of history. That such thinking is quite deeply rooted in our cognition and we may never be able to dispense with it entirely is very much at odds with a lot of the 2000s era all-religion-is-indoctrination children-are-born-atheist triumphalist cliches.

saying “you are a burden on society” is just such a weird framing of priorities

It’s like saying “wow, think how much better gas mileage your car would get if you weren’t sitting in it” or “think how dry that umbrella would be if you weren’t holding it in between you and the rainstorm”.

the things we create? they’re for us. they are meant to carry us. they are meant to protect us. we are meant to hold them up to keep us dry. 

"my son turned out fine" maam your son was killed by one of my strong as fuck skeleton warriors

never thought Disney would be bold enough to address the strain on Nick and Judy's relationship after the abortion

Comparing dinosaurs to a Boeing 737-900. Via BBC News

my issue with the argument that "disliking ai art is inherently reactionary" is that it acts like pro-ai art people are somehow less reactionary on their views on art, when like the majority of defense's of ai art as like a higher form art are indistinguishable from the arguments people use to defend the art of like. hitler

under space communism we mostly won't have war but we do let the military scifi nerds occasionally blow each other up for made up factions with elaborate lore in the asteroid belt for fun

Sure. Job searching is going great. "Celery" is now a skill people are looking for.