jvmesdoesart

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i respect those people who have sideblogs for all their different interests, if you follow me, you’ll just have to accept you’ll be submitted to whatever nonsense i’m into at the moment

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OH MY……

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Destiel Text Post

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BECAUSE THE ROOM WAS TOO SMALL

BECAUSE THE FOREST WAS TOO SMALL

BECAUSE THE GARBAGE DUMP WAS TOO SMALL

BECAUSE THE TABLE WAS TOO SMALL

🧍‍♂️ 👬 🧍‍♂️

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do you ever become obsessed with a character and you just go "of fucking course its that one" at yourself because you are so incredibly predictable

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Look at them so alive and in love. I love it when characters are alive and in love.

People do not realise the extent of my love for these two fictional men

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getting dating advice from animals call that the birds and the bees

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entirely in love with this shot

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i really really like when this happens

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new self portrait alert

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Me logging onto tumblr dot com to check my trash little blog and post my trash little posts about my trash little interests

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"mouth to mouth", educational poster, 1911

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ofmd is perfect in its blatant disregard for any kind of realism. purple-haired punk rocker at spanish jackie's. izzy getting his leg cut off and then just walking around with a crutch with zero recovery time. lucius being thrown overboard and then just... swimming to another boat. izzy holding a gun to his temple and still missing. everyone on the revenge surviving that storm somehow. stede & co. just coming upon the revenge in the middle of the ocean. ed being killed in mutiny and then several days later just. waking up because stede came to him as a mermaid in his weird little purgatory. when ed couldn't kill hornigold i was just ready to believe that he just couldn't be killed. everything is still real; that one dude could just survive a gunshot because it's funny. usually it would make mad if a show put this little effort into establishing some kind of common sense, but with ofmd it's so blatant that it's what makes the show so unique and wonderful.

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Charlotte Brontë, from “Jane Eyre”

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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.