i love murderbot as like a representation of being nonbinary in a dangerous situation. when its public most of the time it has to choose between presenting itself as a governed secunit (aka "mindless killing machine") or a human, and both options make it upset, but it cant be neither because that would put it in danger. it doesnt tell people the name it gave itself because humans would find it weird and unsettling. it doesnt want to be perceived as human and it doesnt want to be perceived as a robot either!! murderbot my nonbinary hero

the night I ran over the black dog

The events of that night have stayed with me, the utter strangeness of them keeping the memories fresh, when most everything else has faded to time. 

I don’t remember where I had been going, but I do recall that I had been driving for a while when the thing ran out into the road. Maybe I should have been better prepared; every few miles there was a sign warning about deer crossing. But it was late, and the empty road had been one long featureless stretch for over an hour at that point, and I guess I got complacent.

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This morning my child Mouse, aged three, woke me up at 5 am by leaning over my face and showering me in a light but vigorous spray of biscuit crumbs, staring down at me like some kind of gargoyle.

I opened my eyes and confiscated the biscuit before fully waking up, belatedly recognising it as a biscuit that I had perceived Mouse sneaking away the previous week, prior to our going on holiday, but which I had not followed up on. “Don’t drop crumbs in my BED,” I said, strongly.

“I have to be in your bed, mummy,” Mouse said, producing a biscuit in their other hand and eating it while speaking.

“Why,” I said - I was not fully awake, of course.

“Because mine is all dirty,” Mouse said, eating the second biscuit, which I did not recognise.

The sleeping situation in our house is complicated, but I spend most of the night nominally in a bed in Mouse’s room, while Mouse theoretically sleeps on a floor mattress beside me. In practice this is always scrambled up, and there’s no knowing who is sleeping where. I investigated blearily and found that Mouse had secreted a small stash of Mouse-snacks between their bed and the wall, cunningly concealed by BLÅHAJ.

Mouse had quite naturally woken up peckish, remembered their earlier brilliance, recovered the biscuits, and had filled their own bed with biscuit crumbs. All very sophisticated.

“I can’t sleep,” Mouse said, watching me with interest, “my bed is not good. It’s all dirty.”

“We don’t eat in bed,” I said, calculating how much I didn’t want to wake up at 5 am.

“Why.”

“It makes your bed not good,” I said, deciding to get back into my own bed.

“Mummy?”

“What.”

“Mummy.”

“WHAT.”

“Your bed’s not good,” Mouse said judgmentally. “It’s all scratchy of biscuits. you been eating in yours bed?”

do me a solid and just reblog this saying what time it is where you are and what you’re thinking about in the tags.

Detail of Paestan red figure fish plate, third quarter of 4th century BC, attributed to the Binningen Painter

why is everything a dead wife to you people.

ALT

Harrow’s Ninth house robes

[Image ID: Two full-body sketches of Harrowhark Nonagesimus. In both sketches, she's dressed in ornate black capes, a long black tunic, accessories made of bone, including a bone belt and jewelry, and a sheer black veil. On the left, she wears a corset resembling ribs. End ID.]

An extremely exhaustive and representative poll of all of tumblr ever

Okay, cryptkeepers, let's do a super well-planned demographic survey.

reel from @orchardhouseediting on instagram

meanwhile in florida

Since I moved to a bigger place my dad keeps unearthing long-forgotten geegaws from his shed and gifting them to me (my friend T calls this 'the shite tax'). Anyway, please enjoy this intensely 70s frogue.

every time i start to feel cringe for being too deep in the hyperfixation i remember the intense depression i have waded through and have to remind myself that enjoyment is fleeting (so grab it with both hands), and life is for loving (so hold that love close), and if anyone thinks i’m cringe they must not be having a very good time (and i hope they can find a good time soon).

this is my son. his name is harold. everyone say hi harold

I know a lot of ppl hate this idea but I would absolutely love to have separate rooms w my spouse if I was married. like we can sleep in each others beds and probably would a lot of the time but also having your own space exclusively for your things which you can decorate however you want and don’t have to compromise on someone elses wants or worry about their mess and also can decompress there if u do want alone time would be amazing