Tumblr Is A Fate Driven Website. You Can't Find Posts Through The Search Function, You See Them When

“you need to go outside and touch grass” yeah well you need to say “good girl” and give headpats

You know, when I see fictional characters who repress all their emotions, they're usually aloof and very blunt about keeping people at a distance, sometimes to an edgy degree—but what I don't see nearly enough are the emotionally repressed characters who are just…mellow.

Think about it. In real life, the person that's bottling up all their emotions is not the one that's brooding in the corner and snaps at you for trying to befriend them. More often than not, it's that friendly person in your circle who makes easy conversation with you, laughs with you, and listens and gives advice whenever you're upset. But you never see them upset, in fact they seem to have endless patience for you and everything around them—and so you call them their friend, you trust them. And only after months of telling them all your secrets do you realize…

…they've never actually told you anything about themselves.

tamed

you didnt put a nametag on your boyfriend and he despawned. sorry.

like 32 hours into my drive last month i was talking to my friend about a House MD/NBC Hannibal crossover in which House also figures out Will has encephalitis and he becomes obsessed with Will as a medical problem so now it's House vs. Hannibal bc House refuses to lose when he gets his little claws in a case and House 100% knows for a fact Hannibal is serving human meat at dinner but he first puts it together at a dinner party so he's cornered and he's soooo committed to meeting Hannibal's bluff that he does eat it and Hannibal knows he knows

and he makes an excuse to avoid the next several dinners Hannibal hosts but he doesn't tell ANYONE else so when the entire thing unravels there's a scene where Wilson and Cuddy realizes House knowingly let them all eat people on multiple ocassions and they almost kill him themselves

My equivalent of smelling blood in the water is catching a sweet, blushing trans girl getting just a little too flustered when I compliment her. That shaky breath, the way her fingers twitch like she doesn’t know what to do with herself—it’s intoxicating.

I will be hitting on you relentlessly, watching as you squirm under the weight of my words, heat creeping up your neck until you’re hiding your face, barely able to look at me. You smell like a soft, trembling prey animal, and I’d have it no other way. Now, be a good girl and let me make you squirm.

funniest thing is when it turns out someone actually has exactly the same takes on a fictional character as me but they finish like 'so yeah that's why i detest this guy' and it's like. ah. i see. i am a fundamentally different person however

*tugs you around by our red string of fate like you’re a dog on a leash*

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

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