My Friend Had A Thought On Facebook And I Thought You All Should See It

my friend had A Thought on facebook and I thought you all should see it

The people have spoken! Here is the total length of the remaining Dracula Daily entries!

scroll if you don’t want to know - I am unsure about tagging this as a spoiler as it only relates to the story in a meta way

Total, the journey takes us 189 days, 111 of those have entries (58.73%)

We have 34 days left until the last entry November 7th, 22 of those days have entries (64.71%)

There are only 3 breaks left, from 10/07 to 10/10, 10/12 to 10/14, and 10/18 to 10/23

Bram’s longest on streak was 19 days - 09/17 to 10/06

Bram’s longest off streak was  11 days - 06/06 to 06/16

The longest remaining day is Sunday 10/30 at 4,983 words (10 to 20 pages ~30% of the longest entry 10/03)

There are 29,117 words left till the end (There has been 131,000 so far)

Google says it takes around 5 minutes to read 1,000 words

October 31st has 420 words (yes really)

Let me know if there’s any more data you want! I love making graphs!

Questions for writers! What motif/theme do you notice shows up often in your stories?

I’ve been informed that there were airplanes on Elder Uchtdorfs tie yesterday

shout out to everyone who was a lil too invested in English class and now has to live with their Classical Blorbo that no one has stanned in a century

tag this with your first Classical Blorbo from class that you had to try and be really normal about during discussions, mine was Sydney Carton from A Tale of Two Cities 

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.