What's Stopping You?

It seems like there's more positivity on Tumblr than other platforms (*cough*Twitter*cough*). Like, you can say "I love you, bestie." without anyone calling you corny or childish.

Y'know what? Reblog this to let your besties know you love them.

How do Mind Flayers decide which brains to eat and which brains to insert tadpoles into?

So my family has a Gay Pirate Plate.

Stay with me.

We do not know how the hell the Gay Pirate Plate was first acquired. This being a point of contention is actually pretty plot-relevant; the saga of the Gay Pirate Plate began with my grandmother and her sister, who, for some ungodly reason, both BADLY wanted the Gay Pirate Plate and believed it to be rightfully theirs.

I should back up, firstly, to establish: The Gay Pirate Plate is the cheapest, tackiest, ugliest plate in existence.

It is in no way a collector’s item. It is physically impossible for it to complement anyone’s decor, because the colors in it are garish. It’s just a ceramic plate with a gay pirate painted on it, and the painting is, this cannot be emphasized enough, extremely bad.

(How do we know the pirate is gay if he’s just posing on a plate? Listen. Fully 100% to stereotype, but he is. He is gay. There’s an energy. That pirate is a flaming homosexual. That pirate has sex with men and does it frequently. That pirate is fucking gay, all right, he just is.)

Anyway. The point is that this is an extremely cheap and ugly plate with a poorly-executed painting of pirate on it who is like a nine on the Kinsey scale.

My grandmother and her sister fought a blood feud over this plate for their entire lives. It would be on the wall in my grandma’s house, and then her sister would visit, and then it would be gone. She’d visit her sister and the plate would be on the wall and her sister would pretend it had always been there. She would steal it back, hang it up, and, when her sister visited, pretend it had always been there. This continued for DECADES.

When the sister died, the Gay Pirate Plate lived triumphantly in my grandmother’s house. And then my grandmother died. And my aunt, who had lived with her and been her carer throughout her life, rightfully inherited their house.

We visit my aunt after the funeral and stay with her for a week or two.

Me, my sister, and our dad. Her brother.

The three of us look at each other. We don’t say anything. We studiously avoid making eye contact with the Gay Pirate Plate mounted proud and ugly on the wall. We notice one another studiously avoiding looking at it. We notice one another noticing. We say nothing. We come to a silent consensus. We pack up to leave. We get in the van. Our aunt comes out to say goodbye. I loudly announce I need to use the restroom before we leave. She obviously stays outside to continue talking to my dad.

I take down the Gay Pirate Plate, stuff it under my oversized sweatshirt, go outside, and get in the van. She happily waves goodbye as we drive off.

Two days later my dad gets a phone call that opens with hysterical laughter and “You FUCKING ASSHOLE did you seriously STEAL THE PLATE–”

Anyway. The gay pirate plate lives in my dad’s house currently.

But he’s trying to get me and my sister out to visit him. And plate mounts are cheap.

I want to be clear, it's all about the unrelenting devotion. It's even better if it's someone I trust doing the alterations. I trust they won't hurt me, and I can't even resist if I tried. Because that's how it should be. Absolute, unyielding devotion to your mistress(es).

Yes I like the concept of Yakumo Aka, how could you tell?

I want to be turned into a haunting echo of myself, just slightly out of tune. All my values, desires, and ambitions twisted to suit another's end. Yet, I also want them to still remain. That way, when people who knew me before encounter me again, they are reminded of the ghost I once was.

I assure them, of course, that I'm far happier like this.

Based on real life

REBLOG this post to INSTANTLY make 1 of your mutuals at random CUM

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Let those without sin cast the first stone.

this is entrapment

SHE KNOWS

The only correct way to talk to transbians:

Compliment them immediately. Doesn’t matter if it’s their outfit, their voice, their eyes—just make sure they know they’re hot. Bonus points if they get flustered.

Use their yearnings as a second language. If you’re not at least a little dramatic about how breathtakingly beautiful they are and how you’d absolutely perish if they so much as brushed their fingers against your cheek, are you even trying?

Tease them just enough to make them squirm. A little playful banter, a well-placed “Oh? You like that?” and suddenly they’re blushing and looking away, which is exactly the desired outcome.

Be gay. Be so gay. Every sentence should be at least 30% flirting, 50% sapphic pining, and 20% sheer lesbian chaos.

Remind them they’re gorgeous, wanted, and absolutely irresistible. Because they are. And they should know it.