😭

Fighting a giant snake in space: sure. 

that way we know we’re from tumblr without revealing anything

I’m just going to say this to strangers until i find a tumblr person

must keep reblogering!! Im going to be so suspicious if any one tells me this now!

Remember the answer is: ”17 cocks”

In the coming weeks and months… RECORD WHAT IS HAPPENING.

Start a journal, take photos, keep a video diary, make a daily blog post, jot a few notes down in a day planner, whatever!

It is not very often that you can be certain that you’re living in a time that historians will study in detail.

The nightly news can tell us the facts, twitter can tell us the larger cultural trends, but no one can keep an accurate record of your daily life and honest thoughts during this crisis but you.

Are you scared to death? Write it down.

Are you still thinking this is being blown out of proportion? Write it down.

Are you still being forced to work and are pissed as hell about it? Write it down.

Did you see someone do something kind that made you smile? Write it down.

Is your grocery store completely out of toilet paper? Take a picture.

Is your normally bustling neighborhood eerily empty? Take a video.

Did you see a really funny plague joke on twitter? Write it down so you/your grandkids and/or future historians can have a laugh.

I have never successfully kept a journal in my entire life, but I’ve been keeping one since the 10th. Nothing fancy. Just a summary of my day in quarantine, what my family’s up to, today’s news and my current thoughts.

Even if it’s only for you to look back on this time honestly, without the bias of hindsight, you won’t regret doing it.

The news was getting worse. The ADVENT initiative was cracking down on resistors and people were getting afraid. Faith in XCOM was dropping and in one hidden safehouse, a point was reached.

A question was asked.

“Why do you keep fighting?”

It was a simple and honest question, one born of desperation and fear. ‘Why keep fighting when we can only lose’ asks the one who has lost too much. ‘Why keep fighting if they are too big’ asks the one who has always been small. ‘Why keep fighting if we aren’t going to change anything’ asks the one unable to take control.

These questions have been asked time and time again, but today someone answered.

“Because of an oath I swore long ago.” an XCOM operative replied, his box of medicine woefully under-equipped to deal with the massive bullet hole in a small child’s side. “It was not an oath of enlistment with my right hand raised or an oath to my service. It was an oath to every person in need.” As he finished doing what he could, he moved on. His legs nearing collapsed as he blinked spots away from his eyes. The trio of bullets in his side cried out in pain, trying to force him to rest. But he still had work to do.

“I swore on a little blue book that I would not give up on a cause unless I tried and was killed during the attempt. When storms ground the greatest air force of the world, when waves trap the navy to their moorings, when snow keeps the army from marching, there will come a call. A call for help.” He finished up cleaning a festering wound and stood proud for the watching group, his arms shaking in pain, but proud.

“A call that no one else would hear. I could pretend I could not hear it. I could pretend it was impossible to do so I shouldn’t. But I won’t.”

The XCOM medic took a step forward as blood seeped through the haphazard bandage under a damaged flak vest. Everyone took a step back, not out of fear, but respect for the sheer aura of command this man held.

“I swore, with Mother Nature as my witness and my crew as my confidants, that I would provide aid.” His voice never rose but power and distilled determination flowed off his weary shoulders. “I swore to be always ready for the call, so when the winds turn against me and the seas try to sink me, I would go out. So that when Death himself tells me, ‘this one is mine,’ I would be there to wrench that victim from his clutches. Before I was XCOM, I was part of the United States Coast Guard. And We. Go. Out.”

On the table a radio called out. An ADVENT force had ambushed an XCOM medical supply shipment and they had wounded and dead. They called for support, reinforcements and help.

The man, the medic, the XCOM operative just shifted his vest and grabbed his rifle after hearing that radio.

So, Sunday I got a manicure. Oh, yeah. Sunday. Got a manicure. Dope. Should definetely do that more often. Lookit, if you’re watching on YouTube, look at how much my fucking nails are popping right now.

Got a manicure, uh, and the time of the- the end came to the manicure, she finished up, she buffed my nails, made them nice and shiny, you can see, I can see my fucking reflection in these goddamn things, super shiny nails. And so she finishes up and I’m like yo, why don’t you just paint, just paint my pinkie black. Cause, I don’t know, I don’t know, Sam was like “yeah, Carson Daley(?) used to do that” and I’m like that’s kinda cool, so paint it black, I don’t know, why not, fucking around. Who cares? Who the fuck cares? So I did it, thought it would look cool, my pinkie nail is black right now and I’m like ah, I look like a rock star, cool.

The amount of dudes that, it’s funny ‘cause you can always tell who is not, like, totally, I don’t wanna say comfortable with their masculinity, but that might be it, I don’t know. The countless dudes that I’ve, that I know have seen it and been like “dude, uhhhhhh, duuude, uhhhh what the fuck is that, my dude? What is that? Get away from me.” [Laughs] Seriously like it’s to funny, people, it’s a painted nail, what the fuck? Dudes flip out about this shit. Like I walk out, I was drinking a water bottle and one of my buddies goes “uhhh, duuude! I don’t know if you know this, but, um, your nail is purple.”

I’m like dude, uh, okay first of all it’s black, second of all yes I’m very much aware, I didn’t just fucking trip into a jar of nail polish. Like, why would I not know that, did someone do it being my back, like secretly? I’m like looking this way and one of my friends as a prank just pulls out his nail polish and fucking paints my pinkie nail black. All of a sudden. [Laughs] Should I have looked at my hand and been like “oh shit, it is! How did that happen? What the fuck?”

No, I know it’s painted black, I’m very much, I did it myself, because why the fuck not? But it’s like, it’s just funny, dudes are just so like, I don’t know, they’re always like “girls, girls do that, girls do it.” So what, so yeah they do. Maybe some guys do it too, fuck it. Yeah it’s a little abnormal, you don’t see it all the time, but what the fuck’s the issue?

Are you scared? Are you scared that maybe you’ll want to paint your nails when you see it? Is that what it is? “Dude, get that thing away from me man, get away from me! Get it away from me! That’s gay! Huah! Get it away, dude, you get that fucking hand away from me, I don’t fuck with that. Okay? You know what, no. Get it away, maybe I’m gonna want to paint one of my nails if that thing gets too close.”

I think it’s cool, man. Just one painted nail. Who knows, maybe I’ll do my other ones pink, fuck it, freak them out even more. “Ahh, dude, what’s on your nails, looks like cotton candy, ahh! That’s on a guy, you can’t do that, you’re a guy! You gotta be fucking, you gotta be buying football fabric. And, and punching other dudes in the face, and watching guys punching other dudes in the face. You can’t watch, you can’t do that with painted nails. Gross.”