SEX WITH A BISEXUAL LOSER!!!!!!!!!!!

Reblog to give a trans woman a delicious Cuban sandwich

I feel like one of my friends could do this really well.

Reblog this if you want a slightly ominous compliment in your inbox

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.

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.

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 call every animal I encounter a picture of she, even if they're obviously displaying male dimorphic traits to offset the fact that everyone else is doing the exact same thing but with he/him

Who is like God? Justice, seller of pepper.

Read the comments, they give hope. :)

Tumblr is a fate driven website. You can't find posts through the search function, you see them when you're meant to.

Uh oh, the A.I. on your long haul space mission has analyzed your psyche profile and diagnosed you as "pretty princess". Yeah, it's been adding feminizing horomes to your diet and adding subliminal suggestions to the background ambient noise. Yeah, the physical and mental changes are prefectly normal. I wouldn't worry that pretty head of yours if I were you.