"lets get into some good trouble"

reason 1 million why i love zukka: how extra insane it makes hakoda's family tree

TLDR: In ten days last month, the Wikimedia Foundation fired the longtime lead developer of MediaWiki and disbanded the team whose entire job was to listen to volunteers. Most of the people they fired were union organizers. Wikipedia’s editors are now threatening to strike in solidarity. The Foundation is sitting on $296 million in reserves and a freshly profitable AI revenue stream. This is a confrontation with global implications.

> Hello! I have donated, what I can and when I can over the years, despite being on an extremely limited income. It saddens me greatly to see that Brooke Vibber and the members of the Community Tech team were let go. I know that the public stance is that the Wikimedia leadership supports unionization attempts, but this action seems to prove that those are hollow, meaningless publicity statements that are not backed by actions or policy. I will be withholding future donations until I feel that Wikimedia has shown that they support unionization. I hope employees manage to unionize soon - and that nobody else's position is questionably terminated. In the modern era of AI disinformation, actual humans willing to put in the work - and coordinate and assist the many, many more who do it FOR FREE - are a precious resource that should not be so easily thrown away.

and got back a form letter:

Thank you for your email and for your support of the Wikimedia Foundation and free knowledge.

Thank you also for sharing your concerns. I am happy to provide you with more context and information about the recent events.

The decision to disband the Community Tech team is not in any way connected to recent discussions about unionizing, nor have we terminated any staff for their participation in those discussions. The Foundation respects the right of staff to unionize if they vote to do so.

Earlier this month, the Wikimedia Foundation restructured the way the organization supports the Community Wishlist initiative, a forum for the volunteer editors behind Wikimedia projects to suggest and collaborate on improvements to our product and technology.

The decision to restructure followed internal assessments dating back to September 2025 on ways to make our Community Wishlist work more effective and to improve our support for volunteer editors. We learned from these assessments that it is rarely possible to fulfill community wishes through a single team due to the vast breadth of the software we support and the number of channels through which we receive wishes. The restructuring shifts the management of the Community Wishlist from a single, sometimes siloed team (formerly known as the Community Tech team) to the full Product and Technology Department — ensuring that community wishes can be acted on by teams who are specialists in many different areas.

As part of this restructuring, the Community Tech team was disbanded, and six roles were impacted. The Foundation has been committed to supporting the affected team members during this transition in various ways. The team members are currently still working at the Foundation and are receiving internal support to identify and apply for open roles at the organization.

Regarding Brooke Vibber’s departure, as a general practice, and out of respect for individual privacy, the Foundation does not share details about personnel matters. This applies consistently in all cases. We recognize that this can be frustrating, but maintaining this standard is important for everyone. However, we do want to reiterate that the Wikimedia Foundation does not take employment actions in response to union activity. We respect employees’ rights to organize and engage in protected activities.

You may also wish to read our CEO Bernadette Meehan’s update to the community here.

I hope that information assuages some of your concerns. Please don’t hesitate to get back in touch if I can be of any further assistance, and thank you again for your support.

sincerely,

Kristie Robinson

There are no levels in knitting, there are no exams to pass or goals to achieve before you can continue.

The Handsome Chris is a perfect beginner project. It's all one color, it's knit flat, you get to learn lots of new techniques all at once, but most of all it's engaging and you're working towards a goal you really like.

I would have impaled myself on my needles if I'd been forced to complete a Sophie scarf before I got to advance to something more "challenging" like a washcloth, or God forbid a ribbed hat.

My very first project was a self-drafted 11-strand intarsia double sided cable scarf, because I didn't know I wasn't allowed and that was what I wanted to make.

This attitude of mystifying certain fabrics as advanced really twists my stitches. I cannot do simple stockinette colorwork to save my life, but I can 3-color brioche without looking.

There are no levels in knitting.

Pointing at things and explaining what they are and how the ship works, lots of awed and appreciative noises are made.

Until one of the visiting Eridians points out a specific item. “And that?”

It’s a strange, circular thing, a xenonite disk mounted upright on some sort of pivot so it can spin freely, but around the edges it has… spokes? Pegs? Sticking out of it, that hit against a stiff flap that would slow down the spinning.

It is also separated into sections decorated with crude etchings of a human and an Eridian.

“Ah,” Grace says.

“That,” Rocky says.

“That’s. Um.” Grace seems somewhat embarrassed. “That’s the sacrifice wheel.”

His final spasms had been mesmerizingly acrobatic. The fall down the steps leading up to his iron throne had pretzelled his body quite impressively, both arms folded behind his back and one leg bent at a jaunty angle.

The goblin looked at the orc. The orc looked at the goblin.

"Shit," said the goblin.

"Shit," said the orc.

"We're likely to get blamed for this," the goblin said. She walked over to the head of the glittering mangled heap and started pulling the helmet off.

"It's not our fault," the orc said. "It's hard to help someone choking when they wear two-hundred pounds of spiked armor at all times."

"Yeah, well," the goblin grunted. The helmet came free, and the bald head of the Overlord bounced on the stone with a hollow, coconut noise. "You know how it is in this bloody country - thieves get their heads cut off so they can't think about thieving, and all that." She fished in the Overlord's mouth with a finger and pulled out the obstructing olive on the end of her claw.

She popped it into her mouth and chewed. "What do you reckon they do for a regicide?" she said.

"We should run," the orc said. She had started bouncing her leg. "I hear that there's some places in the Alliance where they just kill you and let you stay dead. That's got to be nicer than what'll happen if we stay here."

The goblin started to nod - and then her gaze fell on the helmet.

It looked like a pineapple designed by a deranged blacksmith. It was all thorns and spikes and hard edges, as though the maker had been very determined to not let pigeons roost on it. The only bits that weren't solid iron were eyeholes. Nobody had ever seen the Overlord's face.

She held up the helmet and squinted from it to the orc. One of the thorns had been bent badly in the fall.

Nobody had ever seen the Overlord's face...

"Right," she muttered. "Right. Could work - or."

The orc had a sudden vision of the immediate future. "No," she said.

"I mean you're about his height-"

"No."

"It would just be for a-"

"Absolutely not."

"Just hear me out," the goblin said. "Outside of this room are two-thousand men and orcs and goblins who are absolutely gonzo about this man, and there's a whole country of them outside of the castle, and at any moment someone's going to walk in that door and see one dead tit in black armor and two unbelievably dead idiots next to him.

"Or." She tossed the helmet up like a basketball to the orc, who fumbled and tried to find somewhere to hold it that wasn't a knife's edge. "We chuck him out the window now, walk out the door in the armor, and ditch the armor as soon as nobody sees us."

The orc had started bouncing her leg again. "They'll know something's up the second I walk out of the room."

"No worries," said the goblin. "Leave that to me."

---

It had been a very strange year for the Empire.

Change had rolled across the land as slow and inevitable as a glacier. Roads and bridges carved the gray, blasted wildlands, and a number of social reforms had made the country a place where you could be miserable, yes, but miserable in comfort and safety, and that was an improvement.

Barely anyone got boiled alive in molten metal, and even if the disgusted sun never rose to light the Empire, at least you had a roof over your head to protect yourself from the acid rain.

His final spasms had been mesmerizingly acrobatic. The fall down the steps leading up to his iron throne had pretzelled his body quite impressively, both arms folded behind his back and one leg bent at a jaunty angle.

The goblin looked at the orc. The orc looked at the goblin.

"Shit," said the goblin.

"Shit," said the orc.

"We're likely to get blamed for this," the goblin said. She walked over to the head of the glittering mangled heap and started pulling the helmet off.

"It's not our fault," the orc said. "It's hard to help someone choking when they wear two-hundred pounds of spiked armor at all times."

"Yeah, well," the goblin grunted. The helmet came free, and the bald head of the Overlord bounced on the stone with a hollow, coconut noise. "You know how it is in this bloody country - thieves get their heads cut off so they can't think about thieving, and all that." She fished in the Overlord's mouth with a finger and pulled out the obstructing olive on the end of her claw.

She popped it into her mouth and chewed. "What do you reckon they do for a regicide?" she said.

"We should run," the orc said. She had started bouncing her leg. "I hear that there's some places in the Alliance where they just kill you and let you stay dead. That's got to be nicer than what'll happen if we stay here."

The goblin started to nod - and then her gaze fell on the helmet.

It looked like a pineapple designed by a deranged blacksmith. It was all thorns and spikes and hard edges, as though the maker had been very determined to not let pigeons roost on it. The only bits that weren't solid iron were eyeholes. Nobody had ever seen the Overlord's face.

She held up the helmet and squinted from it to the orc. One of the thorns had been bent badly in the fall.

Nobody had ever seen the Overlord's face...

"Right," she muttered. "Right. Could work - or."

The orc had a sudden vision of the immediate future. "No," she said.

"I mean you're about his height-"

"No."

"It would just be for a-"

"Absolutely not."

"Just hear me out," the goblin said. "Outside of this room are two-thousand men and orcs and goblins who are absolutely gonzo about this man, and there's a whole country of them outside of the castle, and at any moment someone's going to walk in that door and see one dead tit in black armor and two unbelievably dead idiots next to him.

"Or." She tossed the helmet up like a basketball to the orc, who fumbled and tried to find somewhere to hold it that wasn't a knife's edge. "We chuck him out the window now, walk out the door in the armor, and ditch the armor as soon as nobody sees us."

The orc had started bouncing her leg again. "They'll know something's up the second I walk out of the room."

"No worries," said the goblin. "Leave that to me."

---

It had been a very strange year for the Empire.

Change had rolled across the land as slow and inevitable as a glacier. Roads and bridges carved the gray, blasted wildlands, and a number of social reforms had made the country a place where you could be miserable, yes, but miserable in comfort and safety, and that was an improvement.

Barely anyone got boiled alive in molten metal, and even if the disgusted sun never rose to light the Empire, at least you had a roof over your head to protect yourself from the acid rain.