Girl Help I Unknowingly Gave Away A Small But Very Human Part Of Myself In Exchange For Immeasurable

monthly ritual of wrestling with my chuunibyou girlfriend to try to get her to switch her gross month old eyepatch to a clean one the same way you try to pry a dog’s mouth open when they’re trying to swallow plastic

Miguel is really beautiful and i think these are his most beautiful pics

Who is like God? Justice, seller of pepper.

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.

it must suck to do an assassinate and have everyone cheering you on and hyping you up cuz you can’t tell anyone you did it. you have to keep that information to yourself.

I love antagonists who mirror the protagonist instead of contrast them. They are the most extreme version of the protagonist, someone with the same dreams and beliefs who believed these things could only be achieved by the sharpest tools. The crushing weight of knowing that could be you.

oh to have a drunk woman utterly defiling my body with her hands with no regard to the fact that we’re in public and just shushing me when i suggest that we go somewhere more private. oh to smell the thick heady liquor on her breath as she licks my ears and pins me against a wall, unceremoniously shoving her hand down my skirt

if you're committing taboos and so on they have to be cooked properly. the rock sugar and soy sauce and sherry and spring onion are essential.

I think that you've been using your brain far to much. Why don't you give it to me and I'll take care of it? Make sure you have the best thoughts running through your head.

You should just give it to me.