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I love MURDERBOT

The secunit

It destroyed it's governor module

Yes

YES

The secunit is out

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protest

there are powers that will do everything they can to convince you otherwise, but it should be said loudly that protest proves love. community is a conduit for love and oppression seeks to crush community. standing up to say no is an act of love

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i hate it when i cant even write a poem about something because its too obvious. like in the airbnb i was at i guess it used to be a kids room cause you could see the imprint of one little glow in the dark star that had been missed and painted over in landlord white. like that's a poem already what's the point

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I fucking love everything about this. I aspire to own something with the spirit of the gay pirate plate.

So my family has a Gay Pirate Plate.

Stay with me.

We do not know how the hell the Gay Pirate Plate was first acquired. This being a point of contention is actually pretty plot-relevant; the saga of the Gay Pirate Plate began with my grandmother and her sister, who, for some ungodly reason, both BADLY wanted the Gay Pirate Plate and believed it to be rightfully theirs.

I should back up, firstly, to establish: The Gay Pirate Plate is the cheapest, tackiest, ugliest plate in existence.

It is in no way a collector’s item. It is physically impossible for it to complement anyone’s decor, because the colors in it are garish. It’s just a ceramic plate with a gay pirate painted on it, and the painting is, this cannot be emphasized enough, extremely bad.

(How do we know the pirate is gay if he’s just posing on a plate? Listen. Fully 100% to stereotype, but he is. He is gay. There’s an energy. That pirate is a flaming homosexual. That pirate has sex with men and does it frequently. That pirate is fucking gay, all right, he just is.)

Anyway. The point is that this is an extremely cheap and ugly plate with a poorly-executed painting of pirate on it who is like a nine on the Kinsey scale.

My grandmother and her sister fought a blood feud over this plate for their entire lives. It would be on the wall in my grandma’s house, and then her sister would visit, and then it would be gone. She’d visit her sister and the plate would be on the wall and her sister would pretend it had always been there. She would steal it back, hang it up, and, when her sister visited, pretend it had always been there. This continued for DECADES.

When the sister died, the Gay Pirate Plate lived triumphantly in my grandmother’s house. And then my grandmother died. And my aunt, who had lived with her and been her carer throughout her life, rightfully inherited their house.

We visit my aunt after the funeral and stay with her for a week or two.

Me, my sister, and our dad. Her brother.

The three of us look at each other. We don’t say anything. We studiously avoid making eye contact with the Gay Pirate Plate mounted proud and ugly on the wall. We notice one another studiously avoiding looking at it. We notice one another noticing. We say nothing. We come to a silent consensus. We pack up to leave. We get in the van. Our aunt comes out to say goodbye. I loudly announce I need to use the restroom before we leave. She obviously stays outside to continue talking to my dad.

I take down the Gay Pirate Plate, stuff it under my oversized sweatshirt, go outside, and get in the van. She happily waves goodbye as we drive off.

Two days later my dad gets a phone call that opens with hysterical laughter and “You FUCKING ASSHOLE did you seriously STEAL THE PLATE–”

Anyway. The gay pirate plate lives in my dad’s house currently.

But he’s trying to get me and my sister out to visit him. And plate mounts are cheap.

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I read these at exactly the right age. I felt like they acknowledged magic I thought only I could see. But I admit I had not previously contemplated the murder of god.

his dark materials will literally always work bc every small child wants an animal companion that loves you most and goes on adventures with you and every adult wants an animal companion that can shoulder some of life’s immense psychologically damage for you. and you can pet it

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My heart sank. I was a white Girl Scout who camped in Howell in the 90s. But I don’t think I knew what the confederate flag meant until I moved to the South.

From Girl Scout’s social media. The original Twitter thread is here.

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I’ve followed the US Digital Service for some years. They do work the government needs to keep pace with modern expectations but that wasn’t being done before.

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My new goal is to be more Hilda.

Hilda by Duane Bryers

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Can’t believe Davy is STILL in the Navy.

the other day i was telling my partner about my new coworkers and the spirit moved me to start inserting characters from Piano Man

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If you've seen that one screencap, you know what it's about.

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My husband’s variation on this is describing the plots of musicals I mention as wrong as possible.

I think any marriage needs its running jokes, ones that you can repeat with variations, or make callbacks too.

One of my favorite bits is describing the romcoms I watch to my wife as though I have never heard of a narrative in my life.

"She runs a small plane company, and he's from a major airline trying to shut her down, so it's really anyone's guess what's going to happen."

"Get this, he's a stuffy office dork and she's a free spirit, and they end up stuck in the same cabin on a cruise. Sounds like a disaster, right?"

"They've decided to pair up and be each other's plus one at a series of weddings to feel less pathetic, but it's not like they like each other or anything."

So I told my wife that I hoped she would still enjoy me doing this bit forty years from now, and she smiled and held my hand and said that she'd never liked it, not even the first time.

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I've reached the part of Rhythm of War where Kaladin invents group therapy but also refuses to go to group therapy

Kaladin: I think it would be helpful to get a group of people who have been through similar trauma together in a safe calm environment where they could talk to each other. They could support each other and won't feel judged because they've had similar experiences. I think this will work because I've been through some traumatic events and I would benefit from something like that

Kaladin's friends: so you'll be joining this group too right?

Kaladin: Oh. No.

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Singing is magic

TIL a family in Georgia claimed to have passed down a song in an unknown language from the time of their enslavement; scientists identified the song as a genuine West African funeral song in the Mende language that had survived multiple transmissions from mother to daughter over multiple centuries (x)

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I’m having a meltdown. When I was 9 years old I read an article in a magazine called Backyard Adventures about how this antelope, the saiga, was on the verge of extinction. I enlisted the help of my best friend and launched a fundraising campaign called Save the Saigas. We sold lemonade, had bake sales, sold belongings, yelled at strangers as they passed in their cars. Our parents were able to match the money we made. Our school helped. It wasn’t much, it didn’t save them, but it helped the organization at least a little bit.

Y’all. The saigas have been saved. A little piece of my passionate child heart that has seemed hopelessly lost and endlessly disappointed for a long time feels so soothed. Maybe it’s not all hopeless. Maybe our efforts aren’t a complete waste. Maybe we keep trying and actually hope for the best.

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My biggest pet peeve about modern Christian church music. Singing is a form of prayer! The congregation should be included in the music ministry!

sorry just btw hymns arent meant to be sung by one really good singer theyre meant to be sung by a bunch of shitty singers. if i hear one more person doing too much fancy shit trying to perform silent night and they just end up destroying the whole vibes im killing someone