Ghosts

Doesn’t it make you feel bad to be so full of hate?

Like, don’t you see how you people give feminism a bad name?

I’m genuinely curious. I’m not trying to start an argument here, I’m just curious if you people know how.. hateful you people sound. If that’s even a good enough word to describe it.

You know whats hateful?

Hateful is when a ten year old girl gives birth to her uncle's child

Hateful is when a teenage girl is hooked up to a feeding tube, because everyone told her it would be better if she starved herself

hateful is a woman face covered, her eyes covered, her hands and her hips all all of her humanity hidden as if her existence were impure , hatred is prohibiting her from feeling the sun on her skin

hateful Is when men look for confirmed raped and murder victims to jerk off too

hateful is when the top search in pornhub is incest, pedophilia and rape, hateful is when men orgasm to women being choked, sodomized, while crying

hateful is the 80,000 women killed a year, for the crime of being women

hateful is b*tch c*nt and wh*re being the last things a girl hears before shes is brutally taken out of this world, hateful is laughing these words off as not a big deal

hateful is mutilating the genitals of a five year old girl, hateful is watching her squirm and cry while you cut her up, thinking about the feelings of the man who will rip her open

hateful is forcing a woman to give birth, hateful is turning a human being into an incubator, hateful is prohibiting women control over their own fucking organs, their own fucking lives.

hateful is rape.

hateful is women only having 'equality' and rights, in 8 countries. on earth, total. out of 195.

Hateful is making god, the creator male, hateful is making very system of belief around women as a resource, women as second to man, women as a birth giver and nothing else. hate is removing women from the divine and the powerful

hateful is male criminals in womens prisions, hateful is solving their rape with condoms, hateful is letting it go on, hateful is sacrificing women's safety for male egos, hateful is destroying rape shelters, hateful is defining women by front holes and uterus havers, hateful is mutilating them when they dont conform, hateful is young lesbians being groomed to sleep with men, lest they're bigoted. hateful is defining women as a sex doll, as a gender role, as femininity, as a personality.

hateful is menstrual huts, hateful is letting women die of hunger, poison and cold, hateful is saying menstrual blood makes them impure, inhuman. hateful is saying being a woman is karmic punishment.

hateful is driving needles up a baby girls skull, its drowning her in milk, its leaving her out for the wolves. hateful is seeing a girl be born as a curse, its killing her upon sight.

hateful is binding a seven year olds feet. breaking her bones, and smashing them together, its locking her up, never be able to walk or dance, will never be able to play, for men, for men to fuck her, for men to own and want her. an object, a status symbol.

Hateful is purchasing a womans body to use, as a toy as an object, hateful is seeing a young girl, starving, and putting your dick in her mouth, hateful is defending this, hateful is purchasing rape, hateful is advocating for it.

hateful is removing women from history, hateful is writing your name over their accomplishments, hateful is to ban them from reading from writing, from learning, from being human, hateful is never letting a woman touch the world, hateful is locking them up, never to be seen or heard

hateful is burning her at a stake, hateful is lobotomizing her, hateful is locking her up, its the straight jacket, the asylum.

hateful is cutting her open, is shaving down her bones, is injecting poison into her face, oil into her lips, inserting silicone into her body, its sucking out her fat with syringes. trimming her stomach, burning her skin.

hateful is demanding were nice. hateful is demanding that we smile. hateful is being annoyed we dont care about your fucking feelings while were being brutalized, hateful is pretending feminism has anything to do with 'looking good', hateful is coming here pretending youre innocent to ask why im not sucking your fucking dick while talking about the dehumanization of four billion human beings, souls, people. WOMEN.

you know whats not hateful? calling this shit out. I feel great, I felt the best I've ever felt being so 'hateful' about the hatred of women. I no longer look the other way, I no longer rack up my brain for explanations, and excuse, I no longer get caught up in the performance of being nice and giving feminism a good name and instead focus on getting shit DONE.

if you wanted nicer women, you shouldnt have fucking killed them. now shut the fuck up and stop pretending you ever gave a shit about women and feminism. people like you are happy to jerk off while the world burns as long as you 'look good' while doing it.

Die.

Princess

Boba fett x bounty hunter reader

Request: Could I request you something Boba Fett x Female!Reader... some very tender, fluffy? But still, I would very love a real tender Boba for maybe his long time partner ? Like his precious little princess, even if not official but his only one... See ?

Warnings: soft boba fett, but still the grumpy stubborn ass we all love

👉👈🥺💕 FLUFF EXTRAVAGANZA!!!! language. Short(I'm sorry it's short)

Tags: @anilynworlds I'm sorry if it sucks it was a bit rushed because every time I try and write everyone around me decides to make my life a living hell😣

The green and lush planet was by far the most peaceful planet you've been to yet, it was calm, nature making its own soothing melody as you sit by the crackling fire, watching the dancing flames, the Amber's wafting into the night air and dissappearing. You was seated on the ground, back leaned on a log as your partner in crime cleans his blaster pistol. Dark eye's focused on the thing while he was still wearing his beskar armor, his helmet discarded beside him. You couldn't help but admire how the dancing flames casts a beautiful glow on the man, highlighting his features as he concentrated on the blaster, brows furrowed as he cleaned every crevice of it.

The orange hues made his tan skin glow, he looked ethereal under the moon and fires light. The mere sight of him sending your heart into a fluttering mess.

It was merely hours ago when you and him returned to the remote area you had landed Slave I, you having talked the man into building a small fire and joining you outside for the night. For this planet was beautiful and you dread going back to tatooine to return the quarry to jabba. So with much begging and pleading, you convinced boba to sit outside with you.

"you're staring..." he muttered while his gaze was still on the blaster, a smug grin slightly tugging at the corners of his mouth. Boba fett was no fool, he knew that your feelings ran deeply for him, it always left him baffled that someone as gorgeous as yourself could love a ruthless, merciless bounty hunter like himself.

"no... I'm admiring" you correct him with a smile, his eyes finally looking over at you. His blaster now laying with his helmet as he stands up. Walking closer to you. You watch how he plops down beside you, his back leaned against the log now.

"so you're not mad anymore?" he asked with a lifted brow, referring to today's events. Ah, the ever lingering annoyance of how boba flirted the information he needed to find the bounty out of a rather pretty worker at the cantina you both stopped by in search of the quarry that laid prisoner in your shared ship. Although boba refused to label whatever it was you both had in fear of putting you in danger, because everyone he ever loved was taken from him...you knew you was in love with the bounty hunter. And with his tender actions and displays of affection, you knew he felt the same. Especially when you laid in his arms at night drifting to sleep, or when you'd awake to the taste of his soft lips against your own, muttered words of affection.

You scoff at his word's and shake your head, "why would I be mad?" you spoke bitterly, more harsher then intended. Boba simply gives you a amused smirk.

"you tell me princess, I'm not a mind reader" he said, his voice more melodic then the sounds of nature around you. Sighing you simply give him a side glance and almost melt at his damned amused expression, it was cute. And here you was calling the most feared bounty hunter in the galaxy cute.

"I don't see how flirting with that woman was the right way to go about getting information" you let the words slip before you could think them over, but it was to late now. For they tumbled out.

Boba, although wanted to laugh at the fact you was feeling a little envious, found himself staring at you blankly. For you shouldn't ever feel that way, his heart belonged to one person in the galaxy and she was sitting beside him.

Boba leans closer to you and cups your face, making you look over at him. "you've basically ignored me the whole day because of that? Mesh'la..." he trailed off, admiration sparkling in his dark eye's. You sigh and feel like an idiot for hating how his gloved hand left a fleeting touch on the woman's face, modulated voice spewing compliments at her. But why should that have made you feel like you did, annoyed and upset.

Especially when you have the privilege of hearing his raw, natural voice, feeling his warm skin on every inch of your own. The feeling of His lips engraved in your memory. You was the luckiest woman in the galaxy, for you heard sweet words roll of his tongue every morning when you woke in his arms. Eye's looking at you with pure love.

You smile at boba and avoid his gaze, feeling like a fool for acting like you did when all he was trying to do was make this hunt quick.

"you do realize that you're the only person in the galaxy I can tolerate right?" he said, adding humor to his loving words. "you're the only one for me princess, I know I may not show it that much but... I care about you mesh'la" he muttered, eye's flickering from your eyes down to your lips that slowly lift up in a smile.

"you show it boba... I'm just an idiot sometimes and get annoyed when you flirt with other people, even though I know you really don't mean a word you throw at the them" you say and Lean into his warm touch. Heart melting at the way his eye's look over you with adoration.

"you're not an idiot" he chuckles, placing a kiss on your forehead before leaning his own forehead on yours. Eye's closed as yours flutter closed. "if it was the other way around I'd kill the person you flirted with... So it's understandable that you was annoyed with me" he muttered, you snort at his words and pull back to smile at him.

"trust me boba I know you would, you nearly killed that man who looked at me in that damned place" you muse, remembering how his hand twitched to grasp his blaster pistol and shoot the man who sent a wink your way.

"I know I've never said this out loud princess, but I - I think i love you" he whispers and his eyes gaze into yours with a sparkle you've never seen before.

You felt your heart do a flip and a smile spread across your face, "I love you too boba" you say, placing a hand on the back of his neck, fingers slowly running through the dark curls, his hair soft as silk.

Boba pulls you in for a soft slow kiss, his lips fitting perfectly against your own as he takes his precious time. This kiss wasn't like the usual rough paced lustful kisses he usually gifted you, his movements wasn't rushed. The kiss was gentle, delicate. Languid as he slowly trailed his hand that rests against your cheek to the back of your neck, causing you to hum into the kiss.

But boba fett was ever the tease and pulls away all to quickly for your liking and smiles at the pout on your face. "we should probably get some sleep, we have to leave early in the morning" he reminds you, causing the pout to deepen.

"do we have too?" you whine, and whenever he gives you a stern look you know you wasn't getting your way.

"unless you want to deal with a very pissed jabba, I'd suggest you get ready for bed" he said while standing up, scooping his helmet into his arms and picking up the blaster he had discarded. "be sure to put the fire out" he gives you a nod and heads to the ship. You watch him walk away with a fond smile.

After putting the fire out and making your way to the ship, you walk inside your sleeping area and spot boba in the cot and already under the furs. His beskar neatly set aside by the foot of the cot while he looks up at you, arms opening beckoning you to join him. So after taking your weapons off and uncomfortable pants you quickly crawl in bed and into his awaiting arms.

You snuggled into his warmth, head rested on his chest while your palm was pressed to his heart, feeling its beating. His arms wrapped around you tightly, cradling you against his chest as if he was afraid if he didn't you somehow drift away.

Though boba fett was a man who never showed emotion, he always displayed affection and love for you. His precious love, his princess.

And just as you was drifting off to sleep his words of sweet little things was the last thing you heard.

Don't you fucking dare compare TikTok to Vine. ITS NOT THE SAME THING

Vine went away cuz it couldn't afford to stay active

TikTok went away because congress RIPPED it away from us. It let to many activist groups connect faster than ever before; it let too many voices of dissent be heard louder than ever before; and most importantly it was more popular than Facebook, Twitter( cuz fuck that X bullshit), and instagram.

I understand losing both of these platforms hurt, I was alive for vine's death to. But don't let yourself be fooled into a falce equivalence.

Vine died

TikTok was murdered.

Miller's Book Nook

Rating: G. Lots of shy fluff. Pairing: Bookstore Owner Joel Miller x Reader Word Count: 600 Summary: You've been infatuated with the handsome owner of Miller's Book Nook and it might just seem that he likes you too. Warnings: Tooth aching fluff, Joel's POV at the beginning.

A/N: I wrote a little something for Secret Springs. @secretelephanttattoo spun the wheel and I got Joel Miller and bookstore, AKA the coziest of cozy dreams. Thank you @saradika-graphics for the divider.

Masterlist

The door jingles alerting him to a customer. Christ, it’s almost time to close. Really? His internal anger dissipates once he looks up. He hides a smile, it’s you, his secret favorite customer, his heart springs to life when you shyly smile towards him. 

He clears his throat, removing his reading glasses and tucking his novel to the side. “Evening, looking for anything in particular?” 

“Oh, hi, no, just browsing, thanks.” 

“Just let me know if you need any help.”

Your head bobbles a nervous nod before turning down the new release aisle.

It’s always the same interaction. Same question, same answer, same response, so why does it always mean so much to him? 

—

You’re running out of shelf space, most of your extra income sits in the cash register of Miller’s Book Nook. You can’t keep away from the cozy brick building with its creaky hardwood floors and cinnamon scented air… not to mention the handsome owner.

Joel.

He’s always here. Quiet, intimidating, a man of few words. If you weren’t such a voracious reader, you’d still be trying to find excuses to stop in just to look at him. 

The text on the back of the book swirls in your head as you hear Joel’s heavy footsteps approach you.

“Heard that’s a good book, it’s next on my list,” his timorous voice is deep, sending a wash of calm across your body.

“I’ve been meaning to get it, guess today’s the day,” you glance up towards him. He wears a slight smirk, his eyes crinkling with warmth. 

“Guess it is. I’ll take it up to the front for you so you can keep looking.” 

“Thanks.”

He grabs the book and walks away, his wide shoulders taking up most of the aisle. A long exhale you’ve been holding deflates your lungs before you move to the next section.

—

A glance at your watch shows it’s fifteen minutes past closing time. Whoops. 

Timid steps bring you to the checkout counter where Joel looms behind, greeting you with a warm smile.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see the time.”

“Not a problem at all, got nothing else going on,” his pleasant and deep voice sends a shiver up your spine.

Your head angles down, searching for your wallet in your bag. 

“On the house.” 

Your head darts up, eyes wide with surprise. “Oh, I can’t do that, Joel.”

This is the first time you’ve ever said his name out loud, you’ve never been formally introduced. 

“I’ll have none of that, please,” he urges the book into your hand. “You’re my favorite customer.” 

His voice softens with the last sentence, a wave of goosebumps prickle across your skin while your head swims with the implication of his words. 

“Thanks Joel.”

One last smile is sent your way before you clutch the book to your chest and leave.

—

You’ve been looking forward to this moment all day. Comfy couch, warm lamplight glowing, a lit cinnamon candle that smells like Miller’s Book Nook, your favorite fluffy plaid blanket covering you, and soft music playing. You nestle yourself amongst all of the coziness and open your new book. A small note card drops out. Neat, angular handwriting is written across it. 

Enjoy. I’m going to start reading it tonight. Please feel free to text me and we can talk about it.-Joel 

Your finger runs across the imprint of his phone number, a huge grin breaking across your face as you reach for your phone. 

So proud of my mother for doing her own research after I sent her that meme. A sign she hung in her car window.

I was raised agnostic and tend to remain ambiguous on theological matters.

-but my house has a porch on the second story that affords me a terrific view of my neighborhood and the Colorado Front Range and I was partaking of some peace before the 4th Of July Finger-Loss Festivities begin, and I have had a

~*Spiritual Experience*~

I just watched my neighbor try to unload an actual wooden pallet that had to have been forklifted into the back of his insecurity pickup worth of fireworks.

Except that he does not have a forklift in his garage.

He does have so much sports memorabilia and cardboard boxes of unsold MLM Merchandise and patriotically themed camping gear and posters of women in bikinis and flags of suspect political organizations in his garage that there is only BARELY enough space for the fireworks and certainly none for his truck.

So he had to unload the individual boxes of recreational explosives from the back of his truck and stack them in the minimal space he had cleared by hand. This is a tedious and time-consuming process as this neighbor has purchased a wide variety of recreational and locally illegal explosives instead of many of just a few types, so the individual boxes are rather small.

He begins, and this is crucial to what happens next, by cutting apart the industrial-grade saran wrap his explosives dealer had so carefully wrapped his merchandise in, and discarded it unsecured on his lawn.

Where Outdoor Conditions sometimes happen.

His process for unloading the fireworks is to 1. Climb up through the gate into the bed of his pickup truck (a feat made unusually difficult due to the slope of his driveway, and this man's fascinating decision to wear the world's Siffest and least Flexible Denim Overalls. 2. Once in the pickup bed, he selects ONE (1) box from the pile He is apparently from a niche religious institution that doesn't believe in stacking things. 3. Carries it awkwardly around the palette that barely fits in the truck bed 4. His wife yells "Be careful!" when he nearly falls out of the pickup. 5. He Yells "SHADDUP!" back at her. 6. The Large German Shepherd barks from inside the house. 7. He yells "SHADDUP!" back at her too. 8. He sets the (1) box down on the gate 9. Slowly and awkwardly climbs out of the pickup bed 10. picks the box back up, and carries it into the garage.

Question: Aren't you going to help this poor man? Answer: Absolutely Not.

There's four military veterans, MANY dogs, and several people with dementia in this neighborhood, all of whom are terrified by this chicanery every year and many neighbors have repeatedly asked him to maybe do the fireworks somewhere else. (This is the Eighth Year Running he's held a major demolition event in his driveway, and for those of you who can do math, you may be able to guess the precipitating incident to this little ritual) Additionally, I live in Colorado, a state marginally less prone to spontaneous and catastrophic conflagrations than a rotting grain silo, but only marginally. Our recreational explosives laws are written accordingly.

I am in fact calling the Non Emergency line to report Fireworks violations, and reading off the brand labels to someone named Dorothy, who is gleefully totaling up a SPECTACULAR fine for my oblivious neighbor.

However, while I'm on the phone with Dorothy, I notice the wind begin to pick up. and by "Notice" I mean "The Industrial Saran Wrap he left on his Lawn earlier is suddenly swept up about 100 feet into the air by an updraft intense enough to make my ears pop" And by "Pick Up" I mean "I look up to see the sky has turned a fun and exciting shade of glass green, and the bottoms of the clouds are bumpy and rounded, and the overall effect is not unlike looking up through the bottom of the cup at God's Matcha Boba Tea."

For those of you who do not live in places with Inclement Weather, these conditions mean "You have about 30 seconds before a Major Meteorological Event Occurs."

I move under the eaves. "Hang on Dorothy." I say, nose filling with Petrichor. "The show is about to be cancelled." "Oh, that doesn't matter!" Dorothy cheerfully informs me. "It's illegal for him just to possess those, no matter if he actually gets to set them off or not." "Terrific, because he's gotten maybe five boxes out of a hundred inside."

Sometimes, the weather gods are Merciful and give you a verbal warning, typically in the kind of thunderclap that makes your ears ring.

The Gods were not merciful today.

It's not often that I am in the time, place, correct angle or in a properly observational frame of mind to see this, But I got to see it today. Huh. I thought. I've never seen a cloud just DIVE for the ground before. Oh. I realized as it got closer. That's RAIN.

Sometimes, a thunderstorm will form in such a way that the rain that would normally be distributed over an area of say, five to tent square miles, is instead concentrated into an area of say, my neighborhood exactly.

So today, I was granted the rare privilege of being able to actually see the literal wall of water descend from On High and DIRECTLY onto my porch, my street, and my neighbor's truck, and his pile of unwrapped fireworks.

The sheer impact force of the downpour immediately scatters the teetering pile of fireworks boxes in the back of the truck, like the wrath of God striking down the tower of Babel. Boxes tumble, then are washed out of the bed of the truck by the deluge. Smaller Boxes are carried down the road in a little line by the stream forming in the gutter, like little impotent explosive ducklings.

My neighbor was definitely yelling something, but I could not hear what over the DEAFENING noise several million gallons of water makes upon high-speed contact with the earth's surface, but there was a lot of arm-waving and faces turning red as he went looking for the saran wrap that had probably blown to Nebraska by now, while his wife started disassembling the complex three-dimensional puzzle of interlocking material goods in search of a tarp. They do not have a tarp. They have one of those wretched Thin Blue Line flags though, and my neighbor jogs out in a futile effort to cover what's left in the truck.

Which is when the hail begins.

"HELLO?" Yelled Dorothy. "HI!" I shouted. "WE'RE HAVING SOME WEATHER!" "OH GOOD!" she shouts back. "WE NEED THE MOISTURE!"

I watch for a minute longer, but the loss was immediate and catastrophic- the hail is the size of marbles and dense and cares not for your pitiful cardboard and cellophane, ripping the boxes asunder and punching holes in the few things covered in plastic. The colors on the Thin Blue Line Flag are seeping all over the remains of that it was supposed to protect in a particularly apt visual metaphor. Not even the few boxes that made it into the garage are spared, as the German Shepherd escapes from indoors, and in an attempt to assist her humans, jumps directly into the small stack of not-yet-ruined boxes, scattering them into the driveway and deluge. She even picks one up so her humans will chase her around the yard, before dropping it in the gutter to be swept away.

So. I was raised Agnostic -but even I can recognize when God slaps someone upside the head and shouts "NO!" at them.

---

(If you laughed, please consider supporting my Ko-fi or preordering my book of Strange Stories on Patreon)

Death and an Angel (Din Djarin x You) Index

Links to each of the individual segments of a series about Din as Death and You as a Cupid that sprouted from a one-shot. Thank you everyone for the overwhelming support so far as we ride this emotional, slow burning roller coaster together. 

Part 1 - 1,100. Death requests your presence at a train station.

Part 2 - 1,000. Din describes his potential soulmate to you.

Part 3 - 1,500. Din and you discuss what it means to be Death and a Cupid.

Part 4 - 3,100. Din and you learn the universe is full of surprises.

Part 5 - 2,075. One of your bosses threatens to split you and Din apart.

Also on AO3.

he… panicked 

(part 2)

This is why it’s so important for parents to support their trans kids.

if you’re white and you act like race issues are just “unnecessary drama” or “discourse” then sorry to tell you but you’re just…. racist