Based on a true story
RMH
dirt enthusiast

JBB: An Artblog!

Love Begins
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Aqua Utopiaď˝ćľˇăŽĺşă§č¨ćśăç´Ąă
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noise dept.
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
I'd rather be in outer space đ¸
Keni
KIROKAZE
Sade Olutola

Janaina Medeiros
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

JVL
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

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@alilbitlesbian
Based on a true story
#current mood
Even better, the comments to this Twitter post were an absolute FIRESTORM of mostly dudes explaining to her that dials canât only have 2 positions (not true) and that it wasnât a very good piece (not true) that she was being disrespectful to her teacher (donât care) and that it was a sign of her stupidity/rabid feminism/intellectual laziness/misandry/etc. that she couldnât see any âmiddle ground.â It became, in its way, a performance piece. I was absolutely mesmerised, even as I wished I could cock-punch people through the internet.
Personally I hope that knob goes to 11 and stays there.
âDials canât have only 2 positionsâ is also missing the point. Even if it doesnât have only 2 positions, the point stands that getting less of/farther away from âraging feministâ requires getting more of/closer to âcomplicit in my own dehumanization.â You should always be at 0% having to be complicit in your own dehumanization.
Unironically I think the early to mid 20s age group in America has unbelievably bad consent boundaries on all levels and so much language to defend it but this makes me sound like elon musk if I say it however the commonality of someone who will be like âI had 47 panic attacks and itâs your faultâ if you tell them no is insane
I rejected someone and got called âthe scariest person Iâve ever metâ with so much therapy speak interspersed like alright okay alright okay alright okay
âYou just say whatever youâre thinking and I donât know how to handle itâ was verbatim part of this conversation. Also everyone hates to see an autistic bitch
When I was in this age bracket, there was a huge emphasis on improving consent culture via graceful rejection, and it's gone by the wayside. Which sucks.
Twice in my youth (once in high school and once in college) I was in situations where I was asking someone out and I could tell they were calculating in their heads the risks of rejecting me, and both times I said, out loud, "you can say no, I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't prepared for either answer." And then they said no. This wasn't some spark of special wisdom I had - I knew to do it because feminist conversations among my age group brought it up regularly. This isn't happening nearly enough anymore.
More recently, I was really glad when we got to "rejection sensitive dysphoria" in my IOP program and it was one of those symptoms where the therapists really emphasized how it affects others. Because it does.
Being someone who cannot handle rejection makes you much more likely to violate boundaries, and yes, that includes sexual ones. Yes, you, reader who has never hurt a fly. If you don't want to stumble backwards into sexually assaulting someone, fix your RSD meltdowns. If you keep them up it's only a matter of time. Because if you're nice enough to interact with, but are known to have RSD meltdowns, guess what happens when your friends and acquaintances need to reject you?
hate how they forced bugs bunny into anti-weed propaganda in the 90s, as if bugs bunny wouldnât love smoking weedÂ
To be perfectly fair, bugs bunny would also love taking money for starring in anti-weed propaganda and then using said money to buy weed
bugs bunny is not realÂ
I don't like people who actually "baby talk" to human babies. That's a person who's supposed to learn how to speak properly one day, and you're not helping by being nonsensical. These same people find it funny when you talk to a baby like you'd talk to any other person, and some of them get insulted when you baby talk to animals. I'm not the one talking to a dog like it's a baby, you're the one talking to a baby like it's a dog.
Wild animals, however, need to be addressed formally, like a person that you don't know. Because that's what they are, and you're not supposed to be familiar with them. And if one is familiar with you, that's the way you respond. Like sir. Sir what are you doing. There's nothing in my pockets for you. This is my yard and you are trespassing. Please leave.
truly some people have no genre savviness whatsoever. A girl came back from the dead the other day and fresh out of the grave she laughed and laughed and lay down on the grass nearby to watch the sky, dirt still under her nails. I asked her if sheâs sad about anything and she asked me why she should be. I asked her if sheâs perhaps worried sheâs a shadow of who she used to be and she said that if she is a shadow she is a joyous one, and anyway whoever she was she is her, now, and thatâs enough. I inquired about revenge, about unfinished business, about what had filled her with the incessant need to claw her way out from beneath but she just said sheâs here to live. I told her about ghosts, about zombies, tried to explain to her how her options lie between horror and tragedy but she just said if those are the stories meant for her then sheâll make another one. I said âisnât it terribly lonely how in your triumph over death nobody was here to greet you?â and she just looked at me funny and said âwhat do you mean? The whole world was here, waitingâ. Some people, I tell you.
good bye
anteater riding anteater riding anteater
@munnchausenzip i can't lie, it goes hard (x) (x)
I highly recommend watching this testimony from Aliya Rahman, the disabled woman who was dragged out of her car and kidnapped by ICE on her way to a doctor appointment in Minneapolis a few weeks ago.
Truly my worst nightmare.
Transcript of Aliya Rahman's speech:
Thank you members, for taking the time to be here today, and thank you staff for making this happen.
My name is Aliya Rahman, and I am a resident of South Minneapolis. I am a Bangladeshi American born in Northern Wisconsin. And Iâm a disabled person with autism and a traumatic brain injury.
Not all autistic brains do this, but mine fixates on sounds, numbers, and patterns. And while what the world saw happen to me exactly three weeks ago today on video was a terrible violation it is still nothing compared to the horrific practices I saw inside the Whipple center.
So I am here today with a duty to the people who have not had the privilege of coming home, and I offer this data because these practices must end now.
On January 13th on the way to my 39th appointment at Hennepin Countyâs traumatic brain injury center, I encountered a traffic jam caused by ICE vehicles and no signs indicating how to get around it. I had not wanted to pull in to a blocked, chaotic intersection, but verbally agreed to do so and rolled down my window after an agent yelled, âMove! I will break your f-ing window!â
His first instruction.
Agents on all sides of my vehicle yelled conflicting threats and instructions that I could not process while watching for pedestrians.
Then, the glass of the passenger side window flew across my face.
I yelled, âIâm disabled!â at the hands grabbing at me and an agent said, âToo late.â
I felt immersed in a pattern, and I thought of Jenoah Donald, an autistic black man killed by the police during a traffic stop in 2021.
I remembered mister Silverio Villegas GonzĂĄlez, who was killed by ICE in his vehicle last year.
An agent pulled a large combat knife in front of my face, which I thought was for cutting me, and later learned was used to cut off my seat belt. Shooting pain went through my head, neck, and wrists when I hit the ground face first and people leaned on my back.
I felt the pattern, and I thought of mister George Floyd, who was killed four blocks away.
I was carried face down through the street by my cuffed arms and legs while yelling that I had a brain injury and was disabled. I now cannot lift my arms normally.
I was never asked for ID.
Never told I was under arrest.
Never read my rights.
And never charged with a crime.
Approaching the Whipple center, I saw black and brown bodies shackled together, chained together, being marched by yelling agents outdoors. I continued to hear the word âbodiesâ, because that is how agents referred to us:
âWeâre bringing in a body.â
âTheyâre bringing in bodies 7, 8 at a time, where do I put âem?â
âWe canât use that room, thereâs already a body in there.â
You have no reason to believe you will make it out alive if youâre already being called a body.
Agents repeatedly had to stop and ask how to do tasks. I received no medical screening, phone call, or access to a lawyer. I was denied a communication navigator when my speech began to slur. Agents laughed as I tried to immobilize my own neck. I asked for my cane and was told no, pulled up by my arms and prodded forward in leg irons by agents laughing and saying, âWalk! You can do it, walk.â
Agents did not know if the facility had a wheelchair.
When I was finally placed in one to be taken to interrogation an agent taunted, âYou were driving, right? So your legs do work.â
I pleaded for emergency medical care for over an hour after my vision had become blurry, my heart rate went through the roof, and the pain in my neck and head became unbearable.
It was denied.
When I became unable to speak my cellmate pleaded for me.
The last sounds I remember before I blacked out on the cell floor were my cellmate banging on the door, pleading for a medic, and a voice outside saying, âWe donât wanna step on ICEâs toes.â
When I opened my eyes at Hennepin Countyâs emergency room, I learned I was brought there to be treated for assault.
The impacts of DHS detention on my physical, mental and financial well-being and safety have been very severe, but I do not deserve more humane treatment than anyone else, US citizen or not. And I am here today with a strong spirit and a duty to the many people who havenât had the privilege to tell their stories or see their loved ones come home. I am extremely distressed by the pattern that violence from law enforcement has been happening to black and indigenous communities for centuries, and to DHS survivors for over 20 years.
We call ourselves a civilized nation, but we lack rules and accountability around what a person claiming to be law enforcement is permitted to do to another human being.
I am not afraid, and Iâm not afraid to keep working on this problem even after ICE is gone. Thank you for your time.
i do feel silly sometimes complaining about us-centrism online when im european like i hope nobody thinks i want things to be europe centric either. if anything i think we should pass the torch to brazil. theyve earned it.
âTheyâre just looking for attention.â
Oh, a human being is seeking a social response? Human being, the social animal wired to make and track social connection? A human desires the vital blood that permitted their species to survive for millennia? The human being who was born completely helpless and primed in every way by nature to seek attention and help from their community?
Wow thatâs crazy. How embarrassing. Humiliating even. Should we isolate them from community? Should we call Wire Mother?
X-Files style paranormal investigative procedural which preserves high-stakes tension over the length of its run by keeping the same supporting cast from episode to episode, but the sexy lead duo can die at any time. Many pairs last only a single episode, especially the gratuitous celebrity guest stars.
Occasionally one of the pair will be killed off, replaced, and their replacement killed off all in the same episode. Maybe you have one or both of them killed off in the intro to the episode and half the episode is waiting for the replacements to arrive. This could be all kinds of fun
Oh, definitely â if you just consistently kill them both off at the end of each episode, the tension is gone because now it's predictable. Maybe sometimes you do a two-part investigation with the same duo throughout. Maybe you do a stretch where one of them survives for three or four episodes, but goes through multiple partners. And yes, on occasion maybe they both eat it in the first ten minutes!
my beautiful baby who i'm naming untitled document
i can't seem to find my baby
i actually have an angel on both of my shoulders and no devil because i'm a morally flawless person and don't experience temptation, but it seems like my two shoulder angels maybe have a dom/sub thing going on because one angel clearly gets a kick out of interrupting when the other is talking to correct them and is super handsy all the time in such a condescendingly affectionate way, and the other angel always just gets blushy and flustered and goes along with it. which is honestly pretty fucked up because the submissive one actually gives better advice
if we gave all the lesbians in the country a bunch of money they could stop worrying about their own security and independence as much and they'd all move in together, leaving many houses empty and solving the housing crisis. but no the dutch goverment doesn't wanna actually try