Opossum Pity Party @opossum-pity-party - Tumblr Blog

oh my god I just saw the cutest thing in the world. little Black girl with beads in her hair for the first day of school and the beads were pink then silver then a bunch of yellow then beige then grey to make them look like pencils 🥺🥺🥺 brb I will draw an artist’s rendition

werewolf-transgenderism

^ like this. waaaaaugh 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

byjove

Heterosexual relationship culture is so alien to me and I don’t know if it’s the fact I’m not cishet or the fact I’m autistic but I hear so many things that make me go “Am I insane or are they?”

There’s a lot of hate on widowers and I saw a woman say “You cannot compete with a dead woman.” which is perhaps a reasonable statement to say if he’s constantly comparing you to his dead partner but that wasn’t what the post was about. And I realized “Oh my God, these people genuinely feel like they’re constantly in competition with their spouse’s exes and the ex being dead makes them feel insecure that they cannot best her.”

There’s also been an uptick in the ‘men and women cannot be ‘just’ friends’ rhetoric which I feel like is extremely dangerous and reflects the rise of fascism and sexism. Some of these stories of women feeling threatened by their husband’s female best friend have some merit and others are like “I feel angry that my husband still talks to the girl he grew up next door to and she and her wife are invited to family gatherings and included in family photos sometimes. Am I right to be suspicious?” No. No you’re not. I cannot imagine being you and living with that high level of stress and paranoia and constant torment and jealousy about your husband having a positive relationship with anyone who isn’t you.

covington-shenanigans

okay look i know this isn't relevant to this post past the second paragraph but. here's the thing. the facts of the case are as follows:

1) I am widowed. my Beloved Wife of Blessed Memory(tm) died in 2019

2) I got together with my current partner about 18 months later

3) when I am committing acts of Foolishness my current partner loves to gesture at the sky to my dead wife, like "do you see this shit, my liege" and regularly says to me things like "[wife's name] was right about this" when my Foolishness inevitably comes back to bite me in the ass

4) this happens. all the time

more importantly:

5) my current partner is on tumblr

6) they love to incessantly send me posts

WHICH MEANS:

7) they just sent me this post with this commentary:

8) they really, really are ganging up on me with her. god help us if there's an afterlife and those two ever actually meet. "eternal rest" my ass, i will never know peace again

armengoldira

creepymutelilbugger

#are you kidding me right now #Insane #art

gaylor-moon

grippy3000

fun fact one of the world champions in pepper-eating contests is a trans woman and she actually faced significant backlash because people somehow thought she had a biological advantage. to eating spicy pepper

grippy3000

update bc i went back and checked: her name is brianna “the chilli queen” skinner and she set a record in 2017 by slamming back 23 carolina reapers consecutively. she only stopped when told to by the referees, and the next year she stepped down out of boredom. queen

pettyartist

Here's a picture of her, by the way

And her super supportive wife

nentuaby

The championship, it should be noted, is unisex. Apparently being a trans woman gives you an innate biological advantage over both cis men and cis women.

vexwerewolf

The innate biological advantage of being cool as fuck

wesandresons

Can it be done father? Can a man change the stars? A KNIGHT'S TALE (2001, dir. Brian Helgeland)

#a knight's tale #movies

everythingfox

Hitching a ride

(via)

#capybara

burins

thinking fondly of this meme I made for a coworker years and years ago

cakelovessalad

this is so wild

killorbekillian

Narration, in a serious, dramatic voice: We find no evidence paranormal activity inside this mine, but we do find an absolutely adorable kitty kitty.

Person on screen, using a baby voice: Hi little kitty kitty! Hi little kitty kitty! Ohh, you’re just a little kitty kitty!

had to share this

"Rock concert", painting by Viktor Tsoi

honeyfaer

"theyll hate you for this" "but theyll be alive" is THE juiciest thing to me

honeyfaer

i will ensure you stay alive above all else. even if what i do to make it happen is horrendous. even if it violates all your wishes or moral principles. even if you can never look at me the same way again, even if you hate me for it. because at least if you hate me it means youre alive

milf--adjacent

Let the historical record show that Mr. Beast was entirely ignorable if you were just like doing literally anything else. I've been on youtube as long as it's been around and I've never been recommended a video by him. I see him in passing as a meme. I thought he was a made up joke, a caricature of bad youtuber content miners until someone I trust confirmed his existence to me in late 2025.

audible-smiles

the worst part of summer is that people get sooo comfortable expressing their disgust at having to see other people’s bodies. they’re always complaining about wrinkly old men at the nude hot springs or fat women in bikinis at the beach. I hate that shit. if you’re not capable of being normal about bodies you personally don’t find attractive, just turn your head to look at something else! and if you’re not smart enough to do that, then at least do the rest of us the courtesy of suffering in silence, because we don’t wanna hear your weird comments. thanks.

texasteaparty

On the soulmate train again but with a touch (bucket) of angst

Bradley has a dream one night, one that feels different from the other, generic shit he dreams randomly. This one is different because there's someone here.

Someone he has never met before.

"Hello?" He asks, standing a few feet away and not wanting to get closer. It's dark in this room, and chilly, with a rough floor below his feet.

No answer.

Bradley steps a little closer and raises his voice, asking again, "who are you?"

The person—a man, now that he can make out—shuffles slightly and turns, face still mostly hidden by shadows.

"You're not real." His voice is scratchy, hoarse like he hasn't spoken in awhile.

Or like he's been yelling. A lot.

Bradley frowns, stepping closer. "This is a dream, right?" He extends his hand, memories of stuff he'd looked up online when he was younger resurfacing. His parents were soulmates, dream sharing. He'd wanted to be exactly like them.

But not like this.

Before he gets too close the man flinches and backs away, pressing tight against the wall. "Don't — please."

Before Bradley can ask what he's begging for he startles awake and comes to in his base housing, sweat dampening his brow and heart racing. "What the fuck."

The dreams keep happening.

Sometimes, they're somewhere different—Bradleys' parents house back in San Diego, a farm in what looks like rural Texas, North island base housing—but most of the time they are here.

The room is made of cement and has no windows. Bradley only knows that because one of their dreams the light was on for once. But mostly its dark.

He doesn't know the name of the man, but he knows him. They talk about everything besides who they are and where they are, and Bradley knows without a doubt that his soulmate is in danger.

He tries to look for him in his waking hours, but it's difficult. More so when he gets deployed to a carrier and can't access the internet as easily.

This goes on for months.

He doesn't know who to tell. Who would even believe him? Hey, so I'm dreaming of this guy whose possibly being held captive? Maybe help me find him? But I don't know his name or age or anything.

Then, one day he's called to Lemoore, and as he's walking the halls he spots a wall of pictures. He mostly ignores these—he's used to seeing photos of the lost, a distant part of him always grieving for his father's photo back in NAS—but one of them makes him halt in his steps.

Upon closer inspection, he almost passes out from surprise when he comes face to face with his soulmate.

LT Jake "Hangman" Seresin.

Bradley calls Mav and finally tells him the truth, tells him about the dreams and the worries and the picture. Mav helps him find out more information (with Ice's help, of course) and together they find out what they can.

Jake, pilot, was shot down in enemy territory a year prior. No recovery. They assumed he was KIA, but according to what Ice found, they hadn't been able to find a body or even his tags, so technically he's MIA.

Bradley knows without a doubt that Jake is still alive.

The next time he dreams of Jake, he calls him by his name.

Jake looks stricken. "You found me?"

Bradley feels tears well up. "Not yet, baby. But we will. I will. I promise."

It takes another few weeks. There was a lot of red tape on Ice's end, and Mav cutting corners to ignore said red tape. They finally figure out where, exactly, Jake's plane went down, and then, somehow, Mav gets them an extraction team that is willing to drop into enemy territory to go and find Jake.

Bradley's tasked with finding out any defining details of the place—land markers and building schematics, anything. Jake is more reserved in those dreams, staying in the corner with his knees to his chest and head down. He answers questions readily but avoids touching Bradley unless it's to try and convince him to just let this whole thing go.

"I can't. I won't. You deserve to be safe. You deserve to come home. I'm going to give that to you." He promises.

Jake just stares. "Or risk dying to try."

They arrive at the compound just as night falls a week later. Bradley had demanded (pleaded, begged, bargaining with anything and anyone) until he was allowed on the ground. He needed to be there. Jake needed him there.

There were few people around, half a dozen if that, most surrendered easily. Some didn't. Bradley ignores them all, hyper focused on the tugging sensation pulling him towards the back end of the building.

The door is familiar, the creak and squeal of the hinge as it opens.

And then—

There, huddled in the corner but staring, green eyes wide and brimming with tears, was Jake. He looks ashen, cheeks gaunt and hands shaking, but he's alive.

Bradley rushes to him and drops to his knees. "Baby. Hey," he soothes when Jake all but falls into his chest, "I've got you. Shh, relax. Breathe for me, that's it." He rubs a gentle, calming hand up and down the protruding bones of Jake's spine, slow and soft until Jake's breathing calms enough to move him.z

"You found me." Jake rasps, voice thick. "You're real."

It's so much like the first dream and that punches a wounded noise from Bradley's gut, but he holds Jake close and rocks them gently. "Yeah, Jake. I'm here. I'm real. I promised I'd come get you, didn't i?"

"C'mon," he pulls back and helps Jake up on shaky legs, "let's go home."

#top gun

overwhelmed-alien

Thinking about how Bradley and Jake are BOTH the masculine manly man 💪 AND the damsel in distress 💅, it just depends on the current situation which one is which:

If there’s a bug in the house, Bradley handles it swiftly, heroically, and proficiently (while Jake dances a panicked jig on a table pointing and shrieking at it).

If the Bronco needs an oil change, Jake is laying under it with a flashlight in his mouth mumbling for Bradley to hand him the wrench. “No, no hon, that’s not a wrench. The long shiny thing with the C shape on the end. Yep, that’s the one.”

Jake’s mouth gets him into trouble, but he’s absolutely not a fighter. When the big drunk guys at the Hard Deck get tired of his snarky yapping and square up with him, Bradley quietly slides between them with a look. 95% of the time the drunk guys are intimidated enough to back down, but the 5% of the time fists are swung, Rooster lays them out quick.

Jake “I’m almost done with the back porch I just need to make sure the joists are level and then I gotta measure and cut the rest of deck boards, but I don’t like the flat cutoff so I’m gonna lay them at an angle and just made the porch a little bigger” Seresin

Bradley “…are you telling me those little lines without numbers on the measuring tape actually mean something??” Bradshaw

Jake sets the stove ablaze trying to fry an egg. Bradley swoops in (before Jake panic-throws his coffee on it) with the fire blanket that he bought for just such an occasion and smothers the fire while Jake frantically tries to fan the smoke away from the blaring smoke alarm.

Jake and Bradley both foam at the mouth witnessing the competency of their Big Strong Man in his element. 🥰

Bonus:

“Got it!”

Bradley and Jake, peaking hesitantly into the garage: “…are you sure??”

Natasha: “guys, it’s a bat not a fucking pterodactyl.”

#top gun