#Without returning to a form at all!

[joffyworld]

Fui Quod Es,

Eris Quod Sum.

It's frighteningly instant,

The jump from reality to some other realm.

One moment I close my eyes;

Hear the faithful's hymns as they condemn me to death.

The next, I open mine own eyes again;

Greeted by some incorporeal realm,

Of which nature I cannot decipher.

I walk seemingly endlessly,

Through the plain plane of white that spans before me.

It engulfs me so thoroughly,

Every step feels purposeless, yet driven onward,

Not by my own initiative,

But by the instincts borne of us all;

To survive no matter the cost.

There's a strange quality to the air,

It flows and sways in ways I cannot quite describe.

There's a cacophony of silence that surrounds:

It confounds my mind and fills my ears,

A painful shriek you feel, not hear.

There is suffering within these arid wastes.

It fills every single step you take.

All it takes is to turn around;

Suddenly greeted by a towering behemoth.

I meandered for what felt like hours,

Most assuredly accompanied by naught but myself,

Only to turn and find:

A shadow in every step,

A demon lurking ever so closely

This creature looks familiar in a way:

Inhumanely humanoid, a giant of no name.

Divining what this thing desires takes no time at all;

But a moment passes by until it calls -

It utters its first words twice over:

"Come closer, come closer,"

"Be not afraid."

"I still have need of you."

It's voice booms so loudly.

Who is this deity who looms?

This deity that lies in chains that bind.

Every word they speak reminds of those,

Who took my head and sought me.

Do I now stand before,

They who commanded my species' doom?

It quickly becomes apparent,

Our predicaments both lie running in tandem.

They, he, is chained just as I was.

It doesn't need to be explained.

There's an unspoken air of desperate confidence in his voice,

The being proposes a choice to which only few would deny:

"I will give you life again."

But every boon has its own burdens.

"All I ask is that you start a cult in my name."

There it is, life as a servant.

A chance to serve a higher purpose faithfully,

To exude a sense of tremendous leadership to the lost.

Like me, the needy, and mundane.

There comes a time in life where one must choose:

To fight or die, to win or lose,

To find the light, to push on through,

To do what must be done for you

To find that hope that time accrues,

The chance to know the highest views

That heal our hearts, and hope renew.

But it's not always so easy to feel.

I stare upon this deity with blood shot eyes

That question what is real.

I gaze upon these two lonesome companions of his

In wonder of how they feel.

I wonder,

"Has a life after death treated them so kindly?"

"Next to this God,

To whom they now kneel?"

Am I a fool for believing in these honeyed words?

For taking heart in this beau ideal?

The forgotten God offers one last refrain,

One last chance to turn away,

"Do we have a deal..?"

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Luo Binghe? Sorry, I only know Binghorse now.

[fistfuloflightning]

a Mingxian prompt for @violet-petals-in-the-rain 😉

The Burial Mounds. Nie Mingjue had asked him before, and had received only mask-like grins and deflections. And so it was with surprise and anticipation that he realized Wei Wuxian had been rattled enough by his injury that he might actually respond this time.

Wei Wuxian struggled with himself for a long time, long enough to get the worst of Nie Mingjue’s wound treated and wrapped. He finally opened his mouth to speak, but a sudden disturbance outside the tent had it snapping shut immediately. So close. Nie Mingjue felt that familiar anger throb low and sharp. Wei Wuxian had assigned himself as his aide out of some misplaced sense of guilt, he supposed, but they remained as distant from each other as the birds of the air to the fish in the rivers.

He wished to narrow that distance.

“Enough.” Mingjue stopped Wei Wuxian’s near-skeletal hands as they tied off the bandage, and stood. Jaw achingly tight with simmering anger at the interruption, he pushed the flap open to find several of his officers already standing before his tent. And between them all knelt a bound and hooded figure.

One dressed in Wen robes.

[mariocki]

Gareth Thomas returns - still running a car hire service, now inexplicably called Tom Lewis - in Public Eye: The Bankrupt (6.1, Thames, 1972)

[comfortfrogblog]

so i went inactive here because life got busy as i finished high school, and then i started posting about autism on instagram in my senior year and just random things and i kind of amassed a huge following after a year and i learned so many things about myself and the world (some good and some bad) and i’ve grown a lot. but that’s over now because there is a lot of the world that is scary and bad and it’s hard to be vulnerable for that long in front of an audience and i frankly got sick of it and my body and mind became sick of it too. there were so many good people and i built a good comfy community of neurodivergents and such, but it’s still impossible to filter out the bad noise. then there was the fact that i was a young girl being pushed into the feeds of men aged 18-35, with only less than 9% of my audience being female, so that made it strange and parasocial with most of the people who were watching me. so in case you ever need anyone to tell you that blowing up on social media with your face is not as good a time as you may think, listen to me! i can tell you many stories that will make you very certain you do not want to post on big social media if you were not sure before!

so hey im back maybe and i may start comfyposting here again, or at least reblogging good stuff. there are still so many things in my inbox that i never got to answer, and even recent things—i’ve read them all. i apologize that i can’t answer at the moment or at all, but i see you. it’s still always a place you can dump thoughts and burdens, just to know someone sees it and is thinking of you, even for a minute.

here’s to tumblr’s beautiful anonymity. here’s to the comfort of being Social on Media without the horrible parts. i love tumblr so much. tumblr i love you

[triptychofvoids]

you know the feeling when youve only had one hour of sleep or less and yet youre Very Awake somehow

[candycryptids]

“Please treat your life like I would have.”

“Every night, the same dream, every morning, the same emptiness… what I wouldn’t give for you to still be here.”

Vierapril Day 3: Rest/Wish

Or, rather. The lack of rest? I hope I conveyed that dream sequence of everything feeling Strange and becoming blurry/hazy the more you try to hold onto it.

[widowshill]

VAMP ROGER AU QUESTION! how would he and barnabas interact together (if they ever interact)? :3 💜

tagging @tortoisesshells because she's my co-conspirator <3

excellent question! this family and their sharp-toothed men will be the death of ... well, several community members of Collinsport, i suppose.

to start — Barnabas gets out of the box slightly differently than in canon, which colors his relationship to Roger and the rest of the household. Roger kills Willie after his attempted assault on Carolyn and Vicki (who is, by that point, his wife); Willie's mysterious disappearance and Roger's suspected involvement makes Jason that much more panicked, desperate, and correspondingly aggressive. Liz goes searching for the lost family jewels in a last-ditch attempt to buy Jason off, and, inadvertently, lets their ancient family sin out of the tomb.

ergo she's made Barnabas' thrall instead of Willie, but this goes unnoticed for a while — even though her brother would, in theory, recognize the signs, and his suspicions are raised, but she's already acting so much unlike herself with Jason around that he doesn't suspect anyone else of doing her harm. yet.

at the start, he and Barnabas get along very well, even before they discover their shared affliction: they're both relatively sophisticated, well-traveled, intelligent people, and for all that Roger decries Liz's emphasis on the Collins name, he leans towards familial connections instinctively (Roger hasn't got much in the way of friends outside of the house even in canon, and he's even more isolated as a vampire).

after he finds out Barnabas is also a vampire, things get a little more complicated, but overall, they're still friendly. Roger doesn't have much sympathy for Barnabas' relentless self-pity and decrying his doomed fate to live as a monster, because Roger on the whole enjoys his vampirism and has made a decent un-life for himself out of it (thanks in no small part to Vicki). but having someone like him around is a comfort in ways he wouldn't have expected, he's no longer solitary or uniquely monstrous out of the Collins family, he has someone else around through the night, and someone who understands the sufferings of bloodthirst and being shut out of the sun.

furthermore, Roger's very much interested in his family history and stories of the past, the building of Collinwood, Jeremiah's ships – and Barnabas was there. there's potential for some very interesting conversations about the past, and the arc of the Collins family history to the present, not to mention literature, travel, fashion, politics and the rest. Roger's his cousin's mirror in modernity in many ways, and that's something potentially interesting to explore: the world changes around them, but Collinses do not.

as an aside, they both have a funny sort of relationship to Burke. Barnabas hates him for his resemblance to Jeremiah and envies his friendship with Vicki and thinks he's crude, and Roger ... well. it's complicated. it's closer to antagonism than not, and Burke has tried to kill him once in this au, and Roger resents his flirting with Vicki, but then there's everything else with their past. so I don't think Barnabas' treatment of him would sit particularly well with Roger, he'd take the attitude of hey, only I can be a dick to Burke >:(

the definite fracture point is Barnabas imprinting on Vicki. Roger's already jealous and possessive by nature, and it's amplified by the supernatural nature of his relationship to Vicki (being closer, bodily and mentally; being necessary to each other; being, quite literally, sustenance) so he's already a little on edge when Barnabas starts paying attention to her, giving her presents, and appreciating the scenery — Barnabas doesn't, exactly, tend to have much in the way of moral inclination to leaving women alone when they have prior engagements, but it's fair to point out the irony of everything Roger was doing with his bloodbag governess when he was still very much a married man.

anyway: Roger finds foreign bite marks on his wife's neck, and he's understandably immensely upset by this. partially out of territorial sentiment, but he also knows Vicki, and he knows that she wouldn't have invited another vampire willingly — which means that she was forced, or hypnotized, or attacked in secret, and there's only the one potential suspect. this is already enough to lose his good will, but he might have been willing to let Barnabas go with a "hands off," had this discovery not lead to finding out what he'd also been doing to Liz. the combination of the two is unforgivable, and it's Barnabas' error to have made an enemy who is very personally aware of all his vampiric weaknesses, and Burke's already carved a stake.

[laneboyheathens]

depression really does just make every tiny thing feel so much worse why tf am I crying about shoes

[captainjonnitkessler]

One of my more uncharitable thoughts is that sometimes the post-capitalism utopian commune people will be talking about how their community will handle conflict or scarcity and it feels like if you give them enough time, they'll eventually settle on "pretty much exactly what we have now but the people in charge will only do things I approve of"

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

That nosleep post about the lady who killed her husband who came back six months later is making me think things

[muninnhuginn]

Characters who've shed their old selves, taken on new identities to hide, but are always oh so aware of who they once were. Trying to divide themselves into a clear Before and an After, which leaves them unable to recognise themselves as a culmination of their past and their present. They can only look at themselves through distorted reflections. They try to distance themselves from others, to remain undiscovered and unknown, but always make connections regardless. Relationships with those who know them beyond their current persona, who can see which aspects of old and new are true when they themselves cannot.

[marvelsmostwanted]

There are people – some in my own Party – who think that if you just give Donald Trump everything he wants, he’ll make an exception and spare you some of the harm. I’ll ignore the moral abdication of that position for just a second to say — almost none of those people have the experience with this President that I do. I once swallowed my pride to offer him what he values most — public praise on the Sunday news shows — in return for ventilators and N95 masks during the worst of the pandemic. We made a deal. And it turns out his promises were as broken as the BIPAP machines he sent us instead of ventilators. Going along to get along does not work – just ask the Trump-fearing red state Governors who are dealing with the same cuts that we are. I won’t be fooled twice.

I’ve been reflecting, these past four weeks, on two important parts of my life: my work helping to build the Illinois Holocaust Museum and the two times I’ve had the privilege of reciting the oath of office for Illinois Governor.

As some of you know, Skokie, Illinois once had one of the largest populations of Holocaust survivors anywhere in the world. In 1978, Nazis decided they wanted to march there.

The leaders of that march knew that the images of Swastika clad young men goose stepping down a peaceful suburban street would terrorize the local Jewish population – so many of whom had never recovered from their time in German concentration camps.

The prospect of that march sparked a legal fight that went all the way to the Supreme Court. It was a Jewish lawyer from the ACLU who argued the case for the Nazis – contending that even the most hateful of speech was protected under the first amendment.

As an American and a Jew, I find it difficult to resolve my feelings around that Supreme Court case – but I am grateful that the prospect of Nazis marching in their streets spurred the survivors and other Skokie residents to act. They joined together to form the Holocaust Memorial Foundation and built the first Illinois Holocaust Museum in a storefront in 1981 – a small but important forerunner to the one I helped build thirty years later.

I do not invoke the specter of Nazis lightly. But I know the history intimately — and have spent more time than probably anyone in this room with people who survived the Holocaust. Here’s what I’ve learned – the root that tears apart your house’s foundation begins as a seed – a seed of distrust and hate and blame.

The seed that grew into a dictatorship in Europe a lifetime ago didn’t arrive overnight. It started with everyday Germans mad about inflation and looking for someone to blame.

I’m watching with a foreboding dread what is happening in our country right now. A president who watches a plane go down in the Potomac – and suggests — without facts or findings — that a diversity hire is responsible for the crash. Or the Missouri Attorney General who just sued Starbucks – arguing that consumers pay higher prices for their coffee because the baristas are too “female” and “nonwhite.” The authoritarian playbook is laid bare here: They point to a group of people who don’t look like you and tell you to blame them for your problems.

I just have one question: What comes next? After we’ve discriminated against, deported or disparaged all the immigrants and the gay and lesbian and transgender people, the developmentally disabled, the women and the minorities – once we’ve ostracized our neighbors and betrayed our friends – After that, when the problems we started with are still there staring us in the face – what comes next.

All the atrocities of human history lurk in the answer to that question. And if we don’t want to repeat history – then for God’s sake in this moment we better be strong enough to learn from it.

I swore the following oath on Abraham Lincoln’s Bible: “I do solemnly swear that I will support the constitution of the United States, and the constitution of the state of Illinois, and that I will faithfully discharge the duties of the office of Governor .... according to the best of my ability.

My oath is to the Constitution of our state and of our country. We don’t have kings in America – and I don’t intend to bend the knee to one. I am not speaking up in service to my ambitions — but in deference to my obligations.

If you think I’m overreacting and sounding the alarm too soon, consider this:

It took the Nazis one month, three weeks, two days, eight hours and 40 minutes to dismantle a constitutional republic. All I’m saying is when the five-alarm fire starts to burn, every good person better be ready to man a post with a bucket of water if you want to stop it from raging out of control.

Those Illinois Nazis did end up holding their march in 1978 – just not in Skokie. After all the blowback from the case, they decided to march in Chicago instead. Only twenty of them showed up. But 2000 people came to counter protest. The Chicago Tribune reported that day that the “rally sputtered to an unspectacular end after ten minutes.” It was Illinoisans who smothered those embers before they could burn into a flame.

Tyranny requires your fear and your silence and your compliance. Democracy requires your courage. So gather your justice and humanity, Illinois, and do not let the “tragic spirit of despair” overcome us when our country needs us the most.

Sources:

• NBC Chicago & J.B. Pritzker, Democratic governor of Illinois, State of the State address 2025: Watch speech here | Full text

• Betches News on Instagram (screencaps)

[eimearkuopio]

Or cry if it helps. But don't only cry. There are joyful and glorious mysteries as well as sorrowful ones. This is how you who have loved can love again; because it really is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, and if you're not sure, I'm sorry but that wasn't True Love.

hey don't cry.... the world is charged with the grandeur of God, okay?

[winteraurora]

How do I put into words how much Mellenial and Gen X fans have ruined DC comics? (Tbh some boomer authors started ruining comics)

[foldingfittedsheets]

Mattresses, unbeknownst to many, are a lot like cars. Every year new ones roll out, they’re always tweaking and innovating and you’ll never find the same one you loved decades ago when buying a new one.

Where I sold mattresses had a three month return or exchange program for this reason. New beds take a while to break in, and they’re a big expense. Your body is used to the old one. So we made sure people were loving it. If a bed got returned we’d take it back, sanitize and clean it, then sell it again on clearance.

To sell these we always had to disclose what clearance meant to customers, and they had to sign that they knew what they were getting. (FYI, not every company is as… forthright about the used bed situation)

In clearance we had beds that were floor models, we had returns, and more rarely we had old models whose line had been discontinued. These clearance beds were always final sale, so a bed could only be sold twice.

Now, the manager at the store I was working at had realized a vital fact. Clearance beds in the warehouse didn’t sell, especially old models that salespeople weren’t familiar with. And even more especially in odd sizes, like twin extra longs. So he set up a split king on the showroom floor to exhibit clearance beds, pulling all those forgotten twin extra longs out onto the showroom.

Almost all of these were brand new discontinued models. Beds I’d never learned in training were exhumed to be displayed. The manufacturers had moved on to new lines and they’d been left behind. Why would he take such in interest in selling old stock, you might wonder? Because we made double commission on the sales margin of clearance beds, and if we’d had a bed long enough they dropped the cost in the system so it was a fucking cash cow to sell these. Even with huge discounts the commissions were wonderful so it was a win win.

When I got started I was jazzed about this program, I was so on board to sell weird old brand new beds and make a ton of money. I had a wonderful older couple come in, looking for a split king adjustable set. This was a white whale sale.

The current clearance models on the floor were a latex mattress that was brand new despite being of an age to start first grade, and a tempurpedic floor model. The couple laid down and it was like magic. They each loved the bed they’d laid down on. They wanted to buy the whole shebang.

I. Was. Thrilled. I told them about the clearance program and what that meant, and they weren’t bothered in the least. I wrote up the sale then dashed into the back, fizzing with excitement to tell my manager what I’d done.

“You sold the death bed?!” He asked in delight.

I pulled up short, my smile freezing in place. “What…?”

“Didn’t you check the notes?”

I hesitated for a long beat then slowly shook my head. You see, dear reader, all beds had a personal history. Every clearance bed had logs written up by the person who took the return, as well as warehouse crew after sanitizing. It helped us know what to expect when selling them. “Wasn’t it just a floor model? You said it was a floor model…”

He slowly shook his head. I checked the notes.

It turned out, it had been sold as a floor model. The first time. But the company had made an exception and taken it back as a return two months later. Why? Because it’s owner had passed away.

I stared at the computer in horror and my manager shrugged. “They signed the clearance form. Technically it was a floor model.”

“We know for a fact that a man died in that bed!”

“What they don’t know can’t haunt them,” he said philosophically.

The man came back a week later for more sheets, utterly delighted to tell me how well they were sleeping. I clamped my teeth down around the secret of the deathbed, choosing to let them love their new bed without the stigma. Only one person would be haunted by that deathbed, and it was me.