Fucking,,,i Would Love Grandma’s Fur Coat, Give It Here

me, before The Mandalorian: “huh? Star Wars? Yeah it has a pretty big fanbase, not much one for it though. I guess it’s pretty cool.”

me, after The Mandalorian: SLAMS THESIS “This is my complete documented argument on why without R2-D2, the Astromech, the entire galaxy would’ve gone to shit.”

chad

PLS HELP

IM GONNAN CRY THIS IS SO FUCKIBG FUNNY TO ME

Writing Prompt #5

‘Park’

There’s this park across the street where I live.

Looks like your average park; with it’s benches and gravel pathways and trees and bushes. A stone fountain stands in it’s centre, with water spewing out of the gargoyles’ mouth.

A bit gothic, I realise now. But that was it.

It sounded like your average park too. Bird songs in the morning, leaves rustling when it’s windy, kids yelling after school. I could always hear the crunch crunch of the gravel across the usually quiet street, and it comforted me.

Most of the time.

There were other times, of course, when I woke up in cold sweat. Everything quiet and still, except for the crunch crunch of the gravel.

These times, I pulled my covers up to my chin and prayed. Hoped against hope - against the fear that seized me in its claws and refused to let go - that I’d live to see the light of morning day.

You ask me, you ask; ‘what’re you so afraid of? Maybe it’s just someone who went for a late night walk.’ Of course, after daybreak I’ve thought of that. I tried to dismiss my terror as stupid, childish, or even at that slightly overcooked chili I had the night before.

But try as I might, I still could not bring myself to look out the window the nights it happened. I still wrapped myself up in my covers, and shook.

Eventually, they started getting more frequent. I’d spend nights in a row with barely enough sleep and covered in sweat - shaking like I just stepped out in winter with nothing but shorts.

My friends would ask to hang out, and we’d go to the park because it was close. I didn’t use to mind walking through the trees, but the sleepless nights were starting to get to me. I could’ve sworn I saw the gargoyle’s eyes move along as I walked past - could’ve sworn that the rustling of leaves sounded like whispers.

Eventually, it got bad. Really, really bad. I’ve tried filing a police report, but they waved me off and said they had bigger things on their plate than ‘mysterious gravel crunching’.

I was frustrated, but mainly because they were right. I still couldn’t bring myself to even sit up on my bed - much less look out that damned window.

Then it happened.

It was daytime, with the sun shining in and the children playing around on the park across from me. I looked out my window then, a half-smile of my face as I remembered my own childhood days.

Then I froze.

The gargoyle. I could swear that the gargoyle had moved. For the years I’ve spent living across from it, I knew how it looked like the back of my hand now. I knew how the whole damn fountain looked, and could probably draw it from memory alone.

The gargoyle had never been facing me head on like it did now.

That was the last straw for me. I packed my bags and went to live with one of my close friends. I sold the house, though barely just resisted from dropping the price down too steeply - after all, nothing had happened.

Yet.

One day, on my way to work, I passed by a newspaper stand with an eerily familiar picture on its front page. With shaking hands, I unfolded it, and read the article.

A brutal murder, it said, in the house just a street away from a park. The picture was grotesque enough - and I could tell that they’d avoided giving the worst. The details were identifiable enough.

An all too familiar bedroom, half a body on the floor, and the other half presumably missing. Blood that coated every inch of the wall like a fresh coat of paint, and deep deep gouge marks on the window sill.

The article had said that investigating parties assumed that the murder escaped out the window, and had cut through the park to run free. They warned all those who lived in close area to the park to be wary of strangers - never open the door to anyone you don’t know.

They still haven’t found the murderer when I checked months later.

I’d visited the family of those I sold the house to. They welcomed me - albeit a bit shakily - and served me tea.

‘They said they’ve been having sleepless nights,’ one of the mothers had said to me. ‘They-they said-oh god if only we’d listened.’

Her wife wrapped her arms around her shoulders and held her close as I half-murmured comforts from across the coffee table. Her gaze met my own as she silently comforted - the grief in them so deep I nearly fell through.

Eventually, the couple moved out, I heard. Travelled far away, where they cut off from their own family and friends. The investigators still worked to find the assailant, but the case was growing cold and I doubted that they’d actually find who did it.

And me? I bought a new apartment from long nights and extra shifts. One far away from parks and gargoyles and gravel. The close friend that I’d stayed with had helped me move in.

‘Looks good,’ they praised. ‘Hopefully you can actually get some sleep in here this time.’

We’d laughed about it. The whole incident had been months ago - nothing more than a bad memory that we occasionally poke at just for the laughs.

That first night, I woke up to the crunch crunch of gravel.

tumblr comedy I haven’t seen in a while and I kind of miss: when someone says like ‘smoothies are great’ and then someone else says ‘juices are great too!’ and the first person says ‘make your own post’ and then the second person says ‘okay’ and then you scroll down and theres a second post.

Sometimes I see a woman in baggy high waisted jeans & a fedora and just, holy crap women ya know? can just be so wow ya know? dont know how they do it sheer magic ahsjdjajsjjs

you’re all valid and you’re allowed to cry and its okay, you’re okay

Yo if you’re a boy with mental illness, a boy with disabilities, a boy who is/was an abuse victim, a boy who has an ED, a boy with trauma, I need you to know that you are not a burden, that you don’t need to “harden up”, that you are very brave, and that you shouldn’t just have to “get over it”.

writing mandalorian fanfiction be like

if i misspell ‘Grogu’ as “gogy” one more fucking time i am going to go apeshit

All of this is important. Please be safe

Source: 1 2 3 4 5 6 If you want more facts, follow Ultrafacts

Squishy faces 🥰 by lyo.thecat

this. oh my god this. I’ve seen Too Many posts that said “They shouldn’t have fired Carano!! She was just expressing her opinion!! They’re trying to paint it as transphobic and anti-semitic but it’s all fake!!!” and I’m here, knowing that Carano did all those things and deserved what she got, but being unable to say it because I was stupid enough to not save the sources.

Enough is enough.

Carano reaped what she sowed. She deserved to be fired. Kindly please fuck off if you think she didn’t.

Lucasfilm did not fire Gina Carano from The Mandalorian for being Transphobic:

She got fired for being Anti-Semitic.

Her being Transphobic is not at all okay either but,

Anti-Semitism is not talked about enough.

She basically just compared Holocaust victims to being a Republican. Do you realize how fucked up that is?!

I’m Jewish. I really don’t like when someone compares the genocide of 6 million of my people to being a Republican. When was the last time 6 million Republicans were murdered via gas chambers?

People need to know that this was why she got fired. Don’t you dare just like this post!

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