mysunnyspot

[funnymemesandreblogs]

So I posted something about telling my friend I'm a lesbian some time ago and I must inform you of today's events. Few days/weeks ago I sent my friend, let's call her L, that I gotta tell her something but deleted it right away. Doesn't matter - she still saw it. She asks me about it the next day and I say I can't tell her right now but I will tell her after a few days/when I'm ready. Today, my fellas, we were ready to go outside. But I (as always) took much more time to get ready than expected, even tho usually she's the one that's even more late than me. Anyways, she came to my house because of that and asked me when will I tell her. But it was literally like my body doesn't let me say it out loud. I told her I will tell her outside so we went outside. First park - full of children, second park - full of children, found some benches and sat there talkin' bout some shit when she asked me again. I couldn't answer even tho I wanted to so I consitered writing it down but that would've been really weird so I waited a bit more. (I also was smiling awkwardly and uncontrollably, I just be like that when I'm embarassed.) I started saying some random shit about how it's not really that important so she better not be expecting something amazing but that it also could be a really big deal. L talked a while and when she stopped for a moment I felt that I could finally say it and was like, fuck it, if I don't say it now, who knows when will I so I just blurted out an "I'm a lesbian" in the middle of a conversation about god knows what. L then says that she actually expected that and asked me WHEN DID I DECIDE TO BE LIKE THAT, LIKE NOOO, WHAT THE FUCK, YOU THINK I WOULD JUST CHOOSE TO SUFFER LIKE THIS??? overreacting rn, anyways I explain to her I do not decide that and that it comes to me naturally and she's like "Oh, ok", and I. Think. She. Maybe. Understood. But I was so fucking wrong. L said "I support you (amazing, right, that's what I thought, too) BUT I DO NOT SUPPORT OTHER PEOPLE. YOU'RE MY FRIEND SO YOU ARE AN EXEMPTION." I was sad, also she will probbably have the best reaction out of all my friends so I. Am. Fucked.

Some time passed and she asks me, how did you think I would react?

Me: ...

I actually thought you'd react exactly like this.

L: Yeah, I think I reacted too casually/relaxed.

Me: [?????? what the fuck]

Haha, not really..

L: What do you mean? See how relaxed I am? [points at her way of sitting]

Me: Yeahh, but... (mumbling some random shit because I'm too sad and overwhelmed to even tell her about what I don't like.)

L: How do you think P (other friend) will react?

Me: I guess same as you.

L: When will you tell her?

Me: I don't know, probbably after a few weeks (definitely not, lol).

L: Any crushes??

Me: Nope. (Even tho I like this one girl soo much but I know L hates her.)

I am sorry. This post is so messed up and makes no goddamn sense, especially now at the end, but that was literally our conversation till P came so I guess it's okay. Also, my whole class thinks LGBTQ+ people are mentally sick but I'm still in a better position than some other people because she didn't discriminate me (even tho she will probbably soon). :D, bye my dear gay stranger, hope you enjoyed and didn't suffer much in life or through this post, :D

[kwillow]

will theo ever be happy

Maybe in another life.

[rudnitskaia]

White Chrysanths for the Swallow

Rocky was waiting for her at the table at the Little Daisy, but this time he was especially eager. Even Ivy had stopped teasing him about the way he lighted up and hummed to himself as he waited for Mau to show up at the door of the café, and just smiled, refilling his coffee whenever it ran out. He almost daydreamed of handing Maura two tickets to tomorrow's musical: of her eyes sparkling, of her taking his hand and telling him he was the best in the world.

But time passed, and Mau wasn't coming.

In those few hours, Rocky had replayed the fantasy in his head hundreds of times, changing the lines and the scenery. At first, imaginary Maura was beaming with happiness, calling him affectionate names, melting in his arms like all those heroines on the stage of a musical theater in the arms of their beloved ones, but every time the fantasy became darker and darker. More disturbing. Mau no longer rejoiced, no longer smiled. Her bright lively figure was becoming more and more dim, and she more often sighed, frowned, did not accept the gift. She asked him to return the tickets, scolded him for wasting his money carelessly, told him some news, one worse than the other, and finally said she didn’t want to see him again. Never again.

It was getting unbearable to sit still, and Rocky abruptly moved away from the table, threw on his coat, and headed for the exit. Maybe a walk would clear his head a little…

“Miss Pepper, I have a very urgent task to attend to. If she shows up on the doorstep, don't let her out of here on any pretext. Lock the doors, board up the windows, show her every fashion magazine you can find, but don't let her leave here until I get back. I'm counting on your wit and exceptional charm.”

The way he looked intently into Ivy's eyes before he left looked almost threatening. He wasn't even aware of the desperation hiding behind that look. But Ivy saw it.

“Don't worry, I'm an expert at this,” she winked at him encouragingly.

The cold air blew across Rocky's face, and he shivered, pulling his scarf over his nose, the same funny skewed scarf Mau had knitted for him last Christmas. Sometimes, like now, Rocky thought he could still smell on it the very same scent of coffee and pastries that wafted from the Venza family's eatery. It didn't help distract him, though. Quite the opposite. After walking a few blocks in an attempt to escape his doubts, he spotted a small flower shop — Rocky's imagination immediately conjured up a lovely picture of Maura cradling a fresh spring bouquet on this cold, cloudy evening and he didn't notice himself stepping over the store’s doorstep. The frail old woman behind the counter put aside the newspaper and immediately chirped, offering him different flowers, and finally convinced him to take a few white chrysanthemums. She tied the flowers with a delicate pink ribbon and also wrapped them tightly in the newspaper she had read before.

“They mustn't be overfrozen. Or they won't last long,” she explained sternly.

Rocky walked back much more briskly. He was warmed by the thought that now he would be able to give Mau not one surprise, but two. Hiding the bouquet from a gust of cold wind, Rocky lowered his gaze to it and pressed the flowers closer to himself… when suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the headline of one of the newspaper articles.

“Shootout at the small Italian eatery Casa di Rondine shocked the residents… a bloody showdown in the neighborhood… occurred on the night… police identified the bodies of two…”

Rocky couldn't remember how he reached the familiar alleyway. How he threw the bouquet to the ground, swung over the barrier tape, and rushed to the entrance — a gaping hole instead of a small blue door. Shards of glass littered the floor, the formerly cozy, cramped hall was a real mess, the furniture was riddled with gunshots. Even the old tabletop radio was now on the floor, shattered to pieces.

“Stop right there!” a panting policeman grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. “What the hell are you doing breaking into a crime scene?”

“I… uh…” in his panic Rocky couldn't think straight, but nonetheless he blurted out: “I'm from a newspaper. Wanted to visit the crime scene myself.”

“A lousy reporter you are, then. Your buddies sniffed everything around here a long time ago.”

“I was just hired today and immediately assigned to this very intriguing case. So…”

“There's nothing intriguing about it. This Bianchi guy…”

“Who?”

“The renter, Augusto Bianchi, if that's his real name at all, apparently had a huge debt to pay someone. And for that, he got pinned down. There was a scuffle in the night, at least four assailants. The two guys we found here have a couple priors, but they're not in a condition to tell us who hired them. The amount of such cold cases we have…” the man hummed and passed his hand above his head. “We've already explained it all to your fellow scribblers this morning. And I highly doubt the landlord would want to tell the same story tenth times over to another newspaper weasel. The only thing he's interested in right now is getting money from the insurance company.”

“And the girl?”

“What girl?”

“The waitress. Who worked here. What about her?”

“Considering how much blood there is, they're probably both either in a ditch, scattered in pieces, or feeding fishes somewhere at the bottom of the Mississippi… both father and daughter, if you meant her,” boredly remarked the other officer, who had quietly approached them, lighting a cigarette. “There's nothing for you to do here, boy. Henry's right — there's absolutely nothing of interest in this case. People might have chattered about it in the morning, but the very next day they'll forget all about it. Go home, don't add to our workload. And quit the paper that sent you here. If your editor doesn't realize that news like this must be broken in the heat of the moment, believe me, their business will burn out faster than a short match.”

Rocky tried to get anything else out of them, at least a little bit, to look in the kitchen of the eatery, to slip upstairs to Mau’s and Augusto's apartment, but the policemen were adamant. On unsteady legs he made it to the nearest bench and collapsed on it, staring blankly into the dark November sky. He could have screamed, could have destroyed everything around him on a single painful impulse, but the emptiness that engulfed him was far more frightening.

His silence was more frightening.

Years would pass. Would flow, as before, from night to night. The world won’t notice his loss. The world won't notice any loss at all. In the place of his beloved swallow house, other birds will build a nest. Freckle and Ivy will eventually stop opening that wound with their questions. And one day, perhaps, he will stop gazing into the crowd, hoping to find among the unfamiliar faces the features dear to his heart, and stop flinching when he hears someone say amore mio. He knows how it happens — it was not the first time. All he has to do is smile and everything will work out. It'll wear off, getting back to the way it was. One day.

But the bouquet of chrysanths will still remain rotting on the cold ground.

[shannonsketches]

He said "Fuck this shit, I'm out" I'm crying. Toriyama's Vegeta was so top shelf 🤌

(From Neko Majin Z Chapter 5!)

[astralprisms]

New gith who dis?

Saving her for patch 7 since I'm finally going to run Durge. Haven't settled on a name yet but I'm very into this look.

[nomourners-nofunerals]

here’s the link to my new “The Stranger/Qimir” edit I posted on tiktok

[ivi-prism]

Ah goddamit

Giving the dre cubito the samgladiator cubito treatment

I’ve invested too much in worldbuilding now this is MY action figure

The irl guy should take SEVERAL steps away from the internet and just shush. SHUSH NO MORE SHUSH SHUUUUUUSH

This collection of stream intepretations, headcanons, characterization and designs is mine now to use in my tales and there is nothing the irl guy can do about it

[schizosupport]

Recently I was tagged by someone because they were using a schizo spec flag I suggested ages ago in a userbox.

That's fine in and of itself, but it was kind of disorienting to go to the post in question and the blog, and discover that I'm blatantly included in their primary DNI criteria.. like they wouldn't have to read my page far to know this!

Which is all fine and well, but then as it turns out, now they have 'tumblr copyrighted' this userbox thingie and saying only the right kind of people get to use it. In other words, now here's a userbox. It describes my experience and it tags me, and it is really just a flag I made once upon a time + the text "this system is schizo spec", and I'm not allowed to touch it nor to interact with the blog in question. (I'm not a man of userboxes, but it's the principle of the thing.)

So I guess this is my necessarily vague way of indicating that I would love not being tagged in posts that are attacking important aspects of my experiences and beliefs, it's actually surprisingly upsetting on several levels. I also don't really like for my content to be used in a campaign to actively exclude parts of my community.

Just.. i dunno if you disapprove of me and my beliefs this strongly, I actually think we should maybe just mutually not interact?? Or maybe take a glance through my blog, you might learn something new. Perhaps you'll even pick up on the irony of attempting to show support for schizospec systems while also being actively bigoted towards people with freaky mental health stuff, and those who support us.

[politemagic]

oh the watcher announcement.... oh the watcher announcement... baby darlings... why?

[gloriousmonsters]

guys who go heart eyes at women who do murder and violence competently are an excellent type of guy but what i love even more is guys who are absolutely obsessed with a wet and pathetic woman. guy who stans a villainous little meow meow who keeps creating problems for herself but he thinks she's the coolest. guy who hypes his mediocre girlfriend up like if you don't cheer and clap for her i'm burning this whole fucking place down

[smol-soop-spoon]

men literally make my life so miserable

[asiogie]

STANNING WHO SHES MY FUCKING FRIEND KILL YOURSELF

[anna-neko]

hello fellow DnDaddies nerds, have you heard the good news!

The next chapter of @owl-ghost's lovely lil Daryl x Henry AU work is up!! and lemme tell ya... *waves handful of cotton-candy in one hand and bottle of reddi-wip in other* There. Will. Be. Fluff! (deepcut?)

In Love and Contempt - Owl_Ghost - Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast) [Archive of Our Own]

____________ anyway, if I may have attention for just a second ... if anyone who knows which side of the pencil to hold, would be so generous as to just take a minute outta their busy day to doodle the 'damsel' scene .. Requesting, nay begging, respectfully i just..*clenches fist* it would make this old lady incredibly happy... plz & thnx

ALSO... i am like thiiiiiiis sure this idea exists in the wild (but sometimes with all the fandom its difficult to tell, we may come up w/ similar ideas independently) but if anyone, anyone at all is looking for a short AU crack-fic one-shot subject, may I suggest : Princess Hen of Oakvale being rescued by a Valiant Knight (or brave Barbarian, dealers choice) Darryl Wilson bonus points for a Rapunzel-like tower situation, garlands of flowers and floating ribbons, and of course.. Barry Oak gettin punched in the face, with a chair

so yes, if nobody has done this yet, I am gifting you this idea!! You are welcome to use it! If anyone does write (or draw) any of it, plz I am beggin you, tag me. ping, DM, send a messenger pigeon if you must - this gremlin craves the good good content

[tacou]

damn not to depression blog on my long inactive tumblr but like... yall ever be reminded of the miniscule impact you've had on others bc it’s once again your birthday and the only fellas who have contacted you are like...fb posts on your timeline from extended family haha

[m0nstr0sity]

YIPPEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

[gatsby-holmes]

don't know if this is common sense but you don't have to fully understand something in order to respect it and give the space it needs

you can be chill