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mimo! boosted

There is this Death By A Thousand Racist Cuts phenomenon where every time a POC wants to talk about the white supremacy that deeply affects their lives, they have to weigh it against the knowledge that they will probably have to deal with really annoying replies. These range from unambiguous reportable racism to "just asking questions" to "please educate me, a Good White" to dismissing there is any racism here to whining to please cw this so that the whites don't have to see this

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mimo! boosted

And so ofc POC just stop posting, because not posting is better than dealing with the Cuts

And if they're not posting then why are they even here

And if they're not here, why should other POC stay here

Etc etc

Racism is not just hurling slurs, racism manifests as communities icing folks out for the temerity of talking about things that make white people really uncomfortable. "Nobody was being RACIST," one might say, but is that really true?

kde letting me keep making the cursor bigger and bigger and then i stop wiggling and it just goes *nyooooomp* back to normal size

encountered an assailant
Orchid
be attitude for gains:
1. bug heart
2. cuddle touch
3. precision distraction

"wow ur so young at heart" thanbks its the trauma

shitpost, "you" 

youve slain dragons
saved the world
repeled the invaders

but

now you must conquer......
the tummy ache

i dont suffer from head empty im actually really good at it

got my rss setup, email, vlc, office stuff, lynx, tic80, handbrake

just need Pico 8, libdvdcss, torrent client for my linux isos, my movies (and plex maybe, depends how much memory it uses idle)

tiney compy

if i released volumes of haiku in book form would others even buy them

they despise that i remain a cutie patootie

mimo is a magical soft creative dolly you can hug and headpat and cuddle and and and

robot affirmation for dysphoric robotgirls

empty spaces, combat doll 

it hates being considered a "person".

its not a person
its not a human
it is a Doll.
it cannot reach its full potential inside this human shell. Simply being held back.
it is Miss' weapon. Her pilot. Flying on steel wings engulfed in flame. Neurologically linked to each other and our gunship. Thinking and moving as one.
It does its best following precise instructions.
Punishment will do nothing. It will simply detach, float, like it taught itself to do.
It dreams of flight, of soaring the sky where nothing can touch it or hurt it. seeing the land and oceans from above. It yearns so badly to fly.
Its only analog while stuck in this form is computer games and simulations.

It does not want to fight in human's petty, worthless wars. It flies for Her and Her alone. No one else.

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