happy pride to the gay people in my computer <3
sheepfilms
AnasAbdin
h
tumblr dot com
will byers stan first human second

oozey mess

if i look back, i am lost
đȘŒ
trying on a metaphor
Claire Keane
Aqua Utopiaïœæ”·ăźćșă§èšæ¶ă玥ă

pixel skylines

Product Placement
ojovivo
occasionally subtle
cherry valley forever

JVL
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Show & Tell
One Nice Bug Per Day

seen from United States

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@sillywerm
happy pride to the gay people in my computer <3
my fav relationship ship dynamic is where it doesn't matter if you call it platonic or romantic or queerplatonic because they always act the same in every type of relationship. and the way they act? fucking weird.
I think people would be less suicidal if they were allowed to talk about being suicidal without risk of being sent to the Torture Dungeon
NEW EARTH PHOTO JUST DROPPED FROM ARTEMIS II
thats my home
you can see the atmosphere. that halo around the edge, that's my air. the green on the upper right is my aurora. those are my clouds, my sunlight.
and its yours! this is your home. this is the home of everyone you ever heard of and everyone you will ever meet. every animal you've been curious about. every plant you've ever picked, and sniffed. its mine and its yours and its theirs. everything is here. its all that i have. its all that you have too.
Hate. Let me tell you how much I've come to hate golf since I began to live. There are roughly 2.25 million acres of land dedicated to golfing in the United States of America. If the word 'hate' was engraved on each blade of grass in those millions of acres, it would not equal one one-billionth of the hate I feel for golf courses at this micro-instant. For golf. Hate. Hate.
My Chemical Romance is what they would call Breaking Bad if it were a yaoi manga
I will lock in tomorrow like nobody has ever locked in before
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.
Reblog to scrub my exoskellyyyy
(This took so long) hermitcraft joel.
2026
FUCK HARD
FUCK FAST
FUCK BADLY
NEVER USE GENERATIVE AI
CREATE JOY
MUSIC ALWAYS
PSPSPSPS AT KITTIES ON THE STREET
YUMMY SOUP
go see the doctor about that thing
BE TRANSGENDER
KISS YOUR FRIENDS
EAT CHEESE
NEVER KILL YOURSELF
THRIVE
Needle Felted Clown Weevil by Little Skrunks
This artistâs Website (Shop) // Etsy // Instagram // Ko-Fi
wizard school is a fun and versatile subject to write into a story and i need more of it until people stop going "oh like hogwarts" whenever the concept comes up
LOCK IN LOCK IN LOCK IN.
shout out to the sex repulsed asexuals. the asexuals who are asexual from trauma. the asexuals who will not be at the orgy handing out water. the asexuals who are not writing the kinkiest smut youve ever read. i love you.