#this is now a covid blob

[bettygemma]

A non exhaustive list of content I consumed during covid (I am updating this list as I go and NOT EDITING I DON'T CARE IF I MAKE SENSE THX xxxx):

- The Americans so much deathhhhhhh too grim

- Miss Fischer's Murder Mysteries death but make it cute and fun everyone in this show is a literal EYE TREAT

- Bo Burnham Inside because I am three years too late for everything and it felt appropriate. This was also about death??? Is everything about death? Wow was 2020 not a fun year for most people

- Douglas by Hannah Gadsby or Gatsby as Sam likes to get wrong 4.5/5. Hannah is a genius.

- First five minutes of Celeste Barber's Netflix special. Celeste is the only worthwhile person on Instagram and I love her. I used the have Instagram buy I deleted it #smug #virtuous. But the first five minutes didn't really do it for me. Also adventure cats in Instagram are good too

- Back to Hannah we go!! Something Special by Hannah Gadsby. 4/5. A delight. Fucken adorable. The Lover album of their Netflix specials. CW for animal death though

- Howl's Moving Castle. Lovely thankyou Tumblr for reminding me about this movie.... Its long though hey wow

- Hank and John Green reviewing things while having covid videos. Hey now I'm part of the covid club!!! Hope I keep taste!!

- Bluey!!!!!!! One of these days I will get through a whole three episodes of Bluey without crying, but todays are definitely not that day!!!!

- READING! Am rereading The Summer of the Danes. Cadfael my best beloved, my ultimate comfort, my little Welsh bon bon mwah mwah! I know you would absolutely love paracetamol and immunisation. Funny that this also has DEATH but make it cozy

- Age of Empires III which is greatttttt but I wish they had more sea maps

[fangomango]

Really wanna explain my theory but

FLU

(Flu)

[ontoheartache]

remove my fucking uterus pls god existence is a prison

[prize-pig-collection]

It’s been a while… don’t you think there’s someone out there who started putting on weight when COVID started, and now they’re immobile?

There’s gotta be at least a few greedy pigs out there who’ve turned themselves into helpless blobs with over four years of non-stop gorging.

If you’re out there, send proof to my DMs 😏

[3ofpents]

Mothman Moth Wings // Fabric Design for @shapeshiftersvt and The Cryptid Collection

It's time to talk about my Mothman fabric design!

This was another fabric design where I didn't have a poster yet to pull design elements from, so I was working entirely from scratch. I actually designed two different Mothman fabrics and fully intended to illustrate both of them, but then our whole household got covid and my entire workflow shut down and my design schedule got thrown off. I may or may not have adapted the second design to a bonus drop that may or may not be coming soon. But this is the one that Eli and I both really wanted for The Cryptid Collection, Eli especially because they'd already designed their Mothman runway look to incorporate a cape made with this fabric.

When I was brainstorming designs, the big thing I was focused on was how to utilize the common visual shorthand for Mothman — a black humanoid figure with moth-like wings and big red eyes — without unintentionally encroaching on someone else's interpretation. It did not take me long to decide against depicting Mothman literally and to remember that the coolest looking moth wings almost always have a pair of false eyes on them.

I wanted a very sooty look, like I had in my head the story of the moths in London during the Industrial Revolution whose wings got darker in theory because the sudden extreme rise in the amount of smoke and coal in the environment darkened the bark of the trees that the moths hung out on. I didn't want it black because I still wanted the pattern to be visible so that you really got the effect of the moth wings.

I opted for more of a blood red with the eyes just to keep that kind of broody, vampiric vibe too. It is plenty bright and obvious amongst all the greys.

There might ... also ... be a bit of an easter egg ... for fans of a certain game ... thinking about ... how ... dreams ... and manipulating people's dreams ... to try and save them ... is a big part ... of Mothman's mythos ...

I actually had to go through like two rounds of unofficial proofing to get this final version of it. When I say "unofficial", I mean that I went through Spoonflower's digital proofing process, we ordered a couple of yards in different fabrics, and when we got them, we discovered we were victims of the reason you should really do a physical proof: The colors were way too dark. Which makes perfect sense! It looked fine on my laptop screen, but my laptop screen is a giant LED light. A yard of fabric isn't. So what I saw as pretty good detail on my screen, just ended up being mostly undefined black blob when it was printed. So I lightened the colors a bit.

Then, when orders started coming in for binders and sports bras, we realized that the eyes were set too close to the edge of the fabric to accommodate multiple sizes. So I moved the eyes in to the center of "wings". Which also proved to be better for the cape too, which got remade with the new print.

As frustrating as it was to, like, go a couple of weeks thinking the print's good and finished, and then hear from Eli that there's something wrong, fix it, then go another couple of weeks thinking it's good and finished, and then hear from Eli that there's something else wrong, and fix it ...

I'm really pleased with this design. I don't think it's exactly what I had in my head at first conception? But part of the reason it changed so much was just the medium it was designed for. It was a really practical education in how a piece can change from digital art to rendering in a different medium. Like, I knew that was a risk in theory, but it helps to see it happen and understand why. Now I have more knowledge about how to avoid it in future projects.

As I mentioned in the last post, if you'd like your own chest binder or sports bra in this fabric like the ones pictured above, you can find them here (along with the poster print) on the Shapeshifters website.

If you'd like to purchase the fabric for your own sewing projects, you can do so through our Spoonflower shop. There are three different sizes there — small, medium, and large. The large is a single pair of wings that takes up the entire yard; the medium is two sets of wings across the width of the yard; the small has three sets across the width of the yard. Though keep in mind that these were designed with Spoonflower's sport lycra in mind, which is wider than some of their other fabric options. For fabrics under 56" wide, one or more of the wings may get cut off, so you may want to take that into consideration when you're choosing which size you want.

[growmydarling]

Hello, I'm a transgirl and I am unfortunately 6'2" and used to be rather muscular, while I don't like being that tall, even at a healthy weight, I was still 230 pounds. Once COVID happened I was locked in for months, starting estrogen, and nothing but fast food to eat, and I loved how soft I've gotten and how my breasts swelled, but now I've gotten to over 400 pounds! So, I was thinking I COULD go back to the gym now that I can go out more often, or maybe if someone were to degrade and humiliate me enough, I could accept my new role as filthy pig to be abused by a feeder much thinner and hotter than me.

covid weight gain has been such a sexy trope for me 😛 all it took was a few months of being cooped up, and people like you found their willpower missing and their hunger growing. you've made yourself into a feminized blob-girl. maybe this was always your fate- you were always a fat girl inside, and here she is staring at you in the mirror, jiggly breasts and a luscious ass that you helped build. a spoiled and overfed piggy. beautifully rubenesque and doomed to keep growing. 💜

[contentment-of-cats]

Ouchy days: wound care.

So, not everything goes smoothly. Some of my incisions began to show signs of infection. Despite what it said in my discharge papers, there were no steristrips, and one looks like the resident closed it with dental floss. Surgeon is out with COVID, so I've been on my own.

This is not meant to be a substitute for medical advice, this is just what I did from previous experiences to care for myself.

It gets gross, so here's the cut.

From experience, I know that when the swelling goes down, it's not unusual to leak clear fluid from your incision. However, I had a lot of discharge from where the chest tube was removed, swelling, and tenderness, and the incision under my left breast was sunburn pink and tender.

Wash with Hibicleans and warm water. Don't scrub. Just gently apply the soap around and over the sites, counting to thirty, and rinse with warm water.

Pat dry with clean towel - use a clean towel every time - or blow dry on a no-heat setting.

Mix Curad's silver chloride gel and an antibiotic ointment, then apply around and over sites.

Choose an 'island' dressing, and apply. You might want to use a 'gentle' dressing as you'll need to change often.

Wash rinse repeat.

It took about 48 hours for the discharge to clear and stop. The main incision is fine aside from the bruising, but I will continue with the wound care until it's closed. The underboob incision is back to a normal skin color, no heat or swelling. The incision that looks as if it was closed with dental floss is back to normal this morning after spitting out a waxy looking blob. If my incisions were not healing, or still discharging, I would have gone to the ER.

All good now. :)

Edit: Am told that the 'waxy looking blob' is epithelialization - or the migration of epithelial cells to the wounded area. It's part of healing and nothing to worry about.

[somewhat-adorkable]

My goddaughter was born on April 6th, 2021.

The world felt real again in May of 2023.

This is going to be an extremely long post and contains a lot of potentially triggering content so proceed with caution.

Her mom, K, is my best friend. She had lived with me for almost seven years, and I was the first person she told she was pregnant.

It was mid November, I was up at 5am getting ready for work. She worked a night shift so normally we only saw each other on our days off, when I dropped her off at work, and when she woke me up to tell me she was home. She hadn't woken me up the night before.

I was confused when she walked in, normally she slept till noon. She held something out to me and I blinked a moment, processed that what I was looking at was a positive pregnancy test.

What I said was "K, I told you so, you dumb slut."

Because I had. I told her that her boyfriend was just out to knock her up and I had told her two weeks prior that she was pregnant. I could feel it.

The next thing I said was, "it's a girl, you know. Are we happy or.....?"

We decided we were.

The next few months passed rapidly and a lot happened. It was a blur of us going to doctors appointments, lots of staring at a blob on a screen that we called Baby Bean.

She was six months pregnant when she moved in with her sister. She wanted to, since her sister had already raised three kids. Around the same time, it was decided my then partner would move in with me.

Less than a week after K moved, I was at her house before work and I said "I want you to make a doctor's appointment for today."

"Why?" She laughed, "I feel fine."

"K," I warned, "please call? Now? Something is wrong. I can feel it."

She humored me and called, got an appointment for later that morning. I asked her if I needed to take off work to go with her, she said no, she would call a cab. I was training for a new job and she didn't want me to miss anything.

I asked her to call me after her appointment, she said she would.

I left for work.

Two hours later, at 9am, I got a phone call and she was sobbing.

"K, come on," I said, "breathe, I need to understand you if you want me to help."

She explained that her blood pressure was in the 200s, that the doctor was terrified she would have a stroke, that they were taking her to a hospital three hours away by ambulance.

"I'll tell Jeff to bring me home now," I said, signaling for the man that was training me, "I'll be there when you get there."

But we agreed that instead I would call her mom. It was mid covid and she could only have one person there. I called her mom for her and explained.

A few hours later, K called again, she only had 30 minutes to make a decision:

1. She could try to hold out and there was a 100% chance her and the baby would die because of her blood pressure not coming down regardless of treatment.

2. She could have an emergency C-section at 26 weeks pregnant. There was an 80% chance she would live, but a less than 10% chance Baby Bean would live.

My body went completely numb.

She signed everything over to me. Her will said I would take care of everything, that if she passed I would make all the decisions regarding Baby Bean. I told her okay.

She asked if I understood if Baby Bean died, she would die too.

I said I knew that all along.

She chose to have the C-section.

April 6, 2021 at 4:14pm, my goddaughter was born.

She weighed right at 14oz, she was 10in long.

I video chatted with K when she woke up, she cried, I told her everything would be okay. That Baby Bean was strong and so was she.

I didn't believe a word I was saying. I was terrified. I accepted the reality I would lose my best friend and the baby I loved from the moment I knew she existed.

We video chatted every day, for hours at a time, often saying nothing and just existing together.

They told her Baby Bean would likely not survive the week, that if she did then she would be blind, deaf, and likely mute. If her brain even developed beyond where it was at. K couldn't hold her, couldn't touch her, they didn't have tubes small enough to even feed her properly and were using q-tips.

In my daily life, I kept moving. I tried for my new job, I prepared for my partner to move in, but dread ate at me constantly. Feeling as if every moment was just the edge of a great plunge into darkness.

Baby Bean survived the week.

On April 19th, I had my first official day at work. And my then partner moved in.

I mostly felt like a blur.

Admittedly I avoided her room (long story short, pulled a gun from a previous roommates mouth in that room just a couple months before hand, and opening the door gave me a deep sense of anxiety), but mostly it was because when I was home I needed to know that K and Bean were okay.

The reality is I was overwhelmed, terrified, no sleeping or eating properly, then I added an extra layer of autistic burnout to the situation by adding extra people to my house.

On April 21st, my mom walked in my room and told me my cousin Destiny and her boyfriend were murdered, and a part of my world fell apart completely.

A couple days later, my grandmother died.

My grandmother's side of the family disowned me with her gone. I lost a massive part of my extended family.

A couple days after that, my brother committed a major crime and went on the run.

I told none of this to K.

She had enough going on, she didn't need my shit too.

In May, Baby Bean developed a massive brain bleed.

In May, Baby Bean got a major infection at one of her IV sites.

In May, Baby Bean got a blood infection.

I was.... not okay. Not okay in a way I will ever be able to verbalize. I was self-harming again, everything made me feel sick, but I did my best to put on an act.

My best friend was going through something horrific and unimaginable and I couldn't be there. I couldn't help. I could do nothing but sit with her on video chat and look at this tiny thing in an incubator and beg it to please become a baby.

My own problems were stomped down in exchange for everyone else, I did my best over and over but in my daily life I was told it wasn't enough.

Mid May, my partner joined a couple dating apps because I... well, wasn't doing enough of the right things, to be blunt. We were poly, so I told myself it was okay, because it has to be. That I was selfish to make it about me. I only vaguely mentioned it to K, but I smiled and told her it was okay, that I was fine.

In June, I was able to visit K for the second time, the first time being in mid May, and the visit went well. I brought my then partner with me, to what felt like a sacred meeting. We weren't allowed in the hospital, of course, but we went out to eat.

Middle of June my birthday rolled around. Things... well... didn't go great. My family tried but the shadow of something else, not the situation with K, drug me down. On the phone with K that night, I softly told her what happened and how bad it hurt me.

She cried almost hysterically, raised her voice, she had spent the past 10 years making my birthday special and was angry and upset that someone else would make me feel unimportant.

"you are the most lovable person I know," her text said, "no one you love should make you question your worth, even for a second. I could not have asked for a better friend, you may be a tad bent but the best people are."

The day after my birthday, my brother was sentenced to prison.

End of June, my partner and I broke things off.

End of June, my godmother passed away from a surgical complication.

I spent so much time feeling like I was in limbo, never feeling fully connected to anything around me.

Everything felt distant, I felt broken and lost in a profound way.

My entire life was viewed from the outside for months.

I developed intense panic attacks, vivid nightmares where I would claw my skin raw and clench my jaw so hard my gums would bleed.

In November 2021, my goddaughter came home.

She weighed just above five pounds. She had an NG tube, a heart monitor, had special formula and a multitude of special doctors to see every other week.

The first time I held he I cried. For the first time in eight months, she felt real. Tangible. A living, breathing thing.

And time kept moving.

I kept moving.

May of 2023, I was house-sitting and something... popped. Something in my head.

Suddenly my world was bright, vivid, everything was in first person point of view again.

I panicked. It was the worst panic attack I've ever had. I cried, screamed, vomited, shook violently and almost passed out at several points.

For the next couple weeks, I would have those panic attacks every couple days.

I almost had a full mental breakdown.

We upped my medication and added a new one.

It's January 2024, and to this day I worry about Bean constantly. Showers give me panic attacks. Windchimes make my heart race because that was the first thing I heard when my brain finally decided it was done with its constant state of depersonalization.

I'm still learning to cope with everything that happened, and sometimes it feels neverending.

My goddaughter was born on April 6th, 2021.

The world felt real again in May of 2023.

[gottarunfromthelaw]

…

You know it’s hard to explain to people my pain with art. Cause it’s not really that my art is bad. But also they can’t really say it’s ever finished. And that’s my problem. I can sketch. I can do little doodles now but before I could actually finish art. I could do so much more and instead I have had this fog since covid and ever since I dropped out of college I cannot bring myself to even force myself to finish anything anymore. Even with the pains I would force myself to finish something and now I can barely draw. I can barely actually do art and it makes me so angry. But I don’t really know anyone in my inner circles that have this? Pain? This betrayal with art? And the fact I can’t do any of the things I use to do makes the anger I have for myself feel overwhelming. It’s just tidal wave have self hatred and frustration of why I can’t do anything and when I try to explain that frustration it doesn’t make any sense to anyone and it makes me even more angry. Why? Why can’t you just do things anymore? Even with the overwhelming stress of school and you pulling out your own hair you did art? Actually beautiful paintings? Water colors and colors. But instead I am just a useless blob who’s terrified to draw on paper. I wish I could have this fear gone. This block this ever growing fog that makes it harder and harder every day. Why keep trying? I want to be in love with art again. I just. I want. I want what I don’t have anymore and there’s only so much I can blame on pressure from family and my body. Agh.

[eyestumblin]

today on breath of the wild...

After an actually indescribable amount of goofing around, climbing up walls and mountains, blowing myself up, side-tracking up/down/over/across the map, poking my nose where it didn't belong, and blindly running past countless obvious objectives, I at long last made my way into the heart of Hyrule castle to do my heroic duties, relieving my old allies of their hundred year wait.

I reached the throne room faster than anticipated, though I'd crawled around (and up, and under) the castle in a few previous trips. Unlike those times, I was determined not to procrastinate a single day longer.

This week we played a lot in anticipation of the sequel release, so I was able to hunt down and collect the final memory locations and watch each of them in order. Most I didn't remember at all- some I hadn't seen in years. I felt more for the hopes of the champions and for the frustration and pain Zelda was going through in her journey. I also (reluctantly) read the diary she left in her room at the castle and was tickled that Link disclosed his reason for not speaking. "He felt everyone's expectations and the need to bear them silently." It was nice to learn about these characters in a different way than previous games.

The story fresh in mind fortified me to finally face the sincerely upsetting amorphous blob of evil gestating in the castle's crown. With overpowered weapons, armor, and food I was able to faceroll my way through the fight. There was one terrible shock; when teleported out of the castle, none other than Dolly herself was waiting for me. A devastating horse accident from earlier in the week had me on full alert for the worst and ready to panic about being suddenly forced to pit sweet, easy paced, 2 spur Dolly in her fancy showgirl feather adorned bridle against a behemoth, world-ending incarnation of rage and destruction. Thankfully it was fight meant to be won without suffering and as we circled Ganon in the home stretch, I told Sana, "Dolly was never meant for this, but I am so proud of her."

And then... at last, the story was finally concluded.

Although there are a lot of memorable highlights, I can't imagine trying to summarize roughly 100 hours of gameplay I haven't written about across the last five years. Covid kept us apart, I moved states and there have been all kinds of life events that resulted in not being able to play. Sometimes it was tough to be patient- I'd be thinking about quests, curiosities, the endless new discoveries on every horizon. Going months or even years between sessions could make it difficult to remember what I was doing and game mechanics or controls, basically how to play at all.

I have 0 regrets about any of that. I'm just extremely grateful we were able to pick things up and continue this journey to its end. BotW began as an adventure with my dear friend and it has been a very special experience to share every harebrained thought, clumsy failure, lucky shot, delightful discovery, and quiet beautiful moment with her from start to finish. Our time playing has kept me feeling close by no matter how far we are in time and space.

BotW is a great game- everyone already knows that. I'm looking forward to someday playing the sequel, and for now I can delve back into my save file to continue exploring the many mysteries still uncovered. Usually I review media but instead this is really about my deep, heartfelt thanks to @sanachanto for her infinite patience, all the gentle hints that never spoiled anything, and for enjoying my adventures as much as I did. BotW: friendship is the greatest treasure/10

[100dayproductivity]

Day 14/100 continued.

So this is crabapple jelly I made two summers ago! Another covid lockdown project lol. I made this out of apples from a neighbour's backyard. I'm pretty sure they were small apples and not crabapples but I'm not really sure. Anyway, it was my first attempt at making jelly. It turned out more like syrup though. Will be ok on pancakes.

Anything else?

Ew, an ant trap in the corner. Forgot about that. It seems that every couple of years I get giant ants crawling around on the floors and walls on this side of the house on both floors. Not really sure where they come from but my next-door neighbours get them from time to time too. I haven't seen them in a while so maybe they're due back this year ����

Alright then, everything's cleared off now. Time to remove the crown moulding.

Easy peasy. Four screws and a square-head screwdriver. Done.

I've been corralling all the screws in this ice cube tray.

Removed the hardware from the moulding. Maybe I'll reuse these for something else or maybe someone else can use them.

All clean! The dark blob at the back right is not BBQ sauce, it's a paint stain from the previous owners. The kitchen was a dark burgundy red.

Done.

[vandroid-helsing]

Whats the largest amount of money you ever held at one time? Would you ever want to be famous? What if it meant being infamous? (I.e. famous for a bad reason i.e. serial killer or John Wilkes Booth)

I think it was when the government Covid subsidies came out back to back. those were good times. let's do that again.

a certain degree of fame might be nice. I wouldn't want to be famous for a bad reason, unless it was like, temporarily bad, the way everyone rioted over Monet and Stravinsky but now history is like "why didn't you appreciate the blobs of color" or "I could never be with anyone who didn't appreciate twelve-tone serialism". I could go for that.

[thatnerduknow98]

This is not what I thought purgatory would be like.

I died from covid. I was on a ventilator first, and that’s when I arrived outside a small, diner-like train car cafe, with a sidewalk to a clouded nowhere on each side. Pine trees stand in a line behind the diner, blocking the view. I could not turn around.

There was no sign on the building to indicate the diner’s name, but somehow I knew it was purgatory. (Purgatory is the place Catholics believe is between heaven and hell, where you go when you haven’t been damned but you also weren’t forgiven.)

I opened the double glass doors to be met by a soul at a podium with a seating chart.

“Hello!” It said. I could not give you a description of what it looked like, nor what it’s gender was. It was probably an angel. “We’re glad you’re here. Welcome to Cafe Purgatory. Do not be alarmed— you are not dead. Your body is not strong enough to support your conscious soul, so we have brought you here until your body decides if it wants to continue or not.”

I looked around. There was a higher and lower level. The bar spanned both levels, across the back of the cafe. There was a big, long window spanning the wall behind the bar, where I could see another angel flipping burgers. The angel manning the counter, and the angel waitress on the floor were wearing ‘50s diner-style checkered dresses, which was strange because they weren’t human.

The host was dressed the same. She marked an x on her seating chart before explaining the diner was full enough she’d have to seat me at a booth with three other souls. I nodded quietly.

The host escorted me to a table in the back of the raised part of the bar. The souls I passed on the way all looked the same - translucent outlines of humanoid figures. They were just distinguished enough that I could tell what they may have looked like in life. Some were not that distinguished though, resembling more of a blob with a face.

“They’ve been here a while,” the host said to me quietly. “The ones who no longer look human have lost their memories of who they were.”

Some tables had plates, some just coffee mugs. Not many tables had food.

“Will I be able to taste what I order?” I asked.

“You are not dead yet so you should still have some senses,” the host said. “If you focus hard enough, you will not only smell coffee and burgers here, but you will smell the bleach from your hospital sheets. I’m surprised you didn’t notice that right away. You must be more dead than we originally thought.”

I learned later the ventilator was rapidly killing me, and it wouldn’t be long after I sat down I felt a release.

The host sat me down at a table with three other souls. Only one was blob like. The other two appeared to be a male and female.

The female one smiled and waved, but did not speak. The male one did not acknowledge me, instead staring out the window into oblivion.

I sat next to the blob. “What are your names?”

The blob let out a whimper, for he did not remember. The woman responded her name was Joy. The man did not respond.

“I am… ” I couldn’t remember. That’s when I felt the big release. I knew I had died in that moment.

The host put a … extremity? … on my shoulder as a gesture of comfort. “I am sorry, but you were not here long enough to write your wrongs. You will have to stay here until He deems you worthy of eternal happiness.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” I asked.

“It is out of your hands now,” the host replied somberly. It seemed disappointed.

I was young. I could remember that. Perhaps I had not lived long enough to make decisions to damn myself, but also I was not old enough to be devout enough to make it to the Pearly Gates. I think this is why the angel was so somber. I didn’t have a chance.

Perhaps He will take pity on me. I figured I needed to be patient.

The waitress came over and greeted us. I ordered a black coffee, knowing very well I wouldn’t be able to taste it but having hope anyway.

The blob soul ordered the same. The woman ordered a burger and fries. The man did not respond, just continued to stare out the window, lost in despondency.

I watched the souls at my table until the food came. The woman may have had long hair once, that fell to her belly button. She may have been wearing a frilly, sleeveless dress. I imagined she would’ve worn a hat and some sandals as well when she ventured out, like a country girl. She seemed like a farmer’s wife.

The man at the table seemed like a businessman. He appeared to wear a suit and tie, and his hair was short and combed back with gel. He could’ve traded stocks for a living, or maybe sold houses. Whatever he chose to do in life, he seemed to regret it. He stared out the window hopelessly, like he wanted to shed tears but was unable.

The blob swayed right and left slowly, like a ghost hovering. It’s figure rippled from top down, like ocean waves. It was soothing to watch. I tried to place a hand on its back, but we were translucent and therefor could not touch each other. It looked at me curiously. The corners of its face lifted, like it was trying to smile. Perhaps he was happy in this gloomy place.

The vibe of the diner was just that - gloomy. Not angry, not happy, but complacent, like the souls who lingered were grateful not to be in hell, but unable to partake in pleasures or passions. There was no music, but you could hear the stoves simmering and coffee brewing, and the diner angels’ steps across the tile floor. Plates clinked together as the waitress placed them in a bin to carry back to the kitchen sink, then again as she dumped them. She turned on the faucet and walked away, leaving a slight hum as the water ran over the glass.

The blob wavered my direction. The waitress brought our order. The dishes clinked on the table as she set them down.

I could not smell my coffee. I wanted to cry.

The waitress left creamer anyway, small packets in a bowl in the center of the table.

I was not going to take a sip until I noticed the blob practically chug his coffee. The woman took some fries, slowly, one by one, then offered me one. I took it, confused, and took a bite.

It had flavor. I could taste.

Suddenly I understood the blob’s reaction to the food. It was probably his only hope in this desolate place.

The man did not acknowledge us. The woman put a fry on the table in front of him anyway.

I put some creamer in my coffee and sipped it. I could not taste the heat, but I could taste the flavor. My creamer was vanilla. I had hope again I could do this.

The waitress came back and asked how it was. I ordered the man a coffee. He had not touched his fry. The waitress perked up a little, then rushed ti get him one. She placed the little white mug in front of him, and he whipped his head around angrily.

“We are stuck here, don’t you understand? You will never be free,” he shouted at me.

I looked at him softly. “I can still taste my coffee. You should try some too. I know it won’t take away the fear of being here, but it may make you feel less angry. We are not in hell. This may not be heaven, but it’s not a bad place to be.”

His anger became rage and he swang his hand across the table, knocking the coffee cup over into the lap of the woman. She flinched and held her hands over her face, as if she was having a flashback to a time her husband beat her. The man stood, then disappeared.

I looked to the waitress, who was comforting the woman and cleaning up the mess. “Where did he go?”

The waitress looked at me tearfully. “Hell.”

The host had arrived to our table at this point and began to droop, heavy with a burden we could not know. “It has been so long since anyone crossed over…” he trailed off.

“We are not stuck here?” I asked.

The host shook his head. Or at least, what I understood to be his head.

I sipped my coffee again. The host apologized.

“I was wrong to you earlier,” it said. “Your fate may not be out of your hands yet.”

You run a café on the edge of life and death. Souls who have been departed from their bodies temporarily, such as in comas or near-death experiences, can relax in your quaint cafe for as long as they need before they can either return to their bodies or begin their journey to the afterlife.

[didanawisgi]

People Have Woken up

The miasma of anxiety befogging so many brains in our troubled land begins to lift as every narrative served up by the US fascist intel blob goes annoyingly stale and impotent.

The worst media meme — that a vicious officialdom is “defending our democracy” — gets laughed out of the room now when repeated incessantly by such regime shills as Jen Psaki and Lawrence O’Donnell of MSNBC.

Everybody understands they want to “defend our democracy” by canceling your freedom of speech, suing you into bankruptcy, and stealing whatever remains of your stuff.

It’s become so obvious by now that you’d have to be blind or a member of the mainstream media not to see it. Maybe both. Classical liberals like Alan Dershowitz — hardly a Trump fan — see it. That’s because they’re honest.

People No Longer Buy the Lies

Likewise, everything else, namely: that our doings in Ukraine are a “fight for freedom,” that “white supremacy” lurks just out of sight getting ready to pounce on the “marginalized” (who are actually running things, and doing it very badly), that “Joe Biden” turned around the economy, that “voting rights” equals non-citizens getting to vote, that election fraud is a “big lie” (and that the J-6 riot over it was an “insurrection”), and that the Covid vaccines were “safe and effective.”

None of these dishonest persuasions work anymore, and all of the persuasion machinery stands in plain sight like so many nauseating carnival rides. One by one, the rides are flying apart, scattering debris and body parts of the poor slobs who were on the rides all over the fairgrounds.

And so, the fear rises in the ones running the carnival. The county sheriff stands by looking to round up the sleazeball carnies with their missing teeth and needle tracks inside their elbows.

Before long, they will find themselves in the courtroom…

The vicious officialdom put up the carnival and all of its rides to distract the public from the crimes they committed during and after the 2016 election. Donald Trump’s idle talk about putting Hillary Clinton in jail struck nerves throughout the federal bureaucracy, the halls of Congress, and the strongholds of the Clintons and the Obamas.

The Clintons had literally bought the Democratic Party apparatus under the DNC, using the money they grifted into the Clinton foundation from such operations as the Uranium One deal, the Skolkovo war-tech transfer deal, and the Haiti earthquake relief effort.

They were sure that ownership of the DNC guaranteed the election for Hillary. It did guarantee that she would overcome Bernie Sanders’ primary election victories and the delegates that came with them, even after Julian Assange’s Wikileaks release informed the world just how the Clintons bought and paid for the DNC and the whole Philadelphia convention.

Call this the birth of the “misinformation” cult, in which everything true was converted into a “big lie.”

It Wasn’t Supposed to Happen

The problem was, Hillary lost that election. What a surprise! Buying the convention was not enough, it turned out. Those “deplorables” did the unthinkable: cast enough of their stinky votes in just the right rust belt precincts to elect the Golden Golem of Greatness, who was as surprised as anybody, and really unprepared to cobble together an actual governing administration — in the process of which, Donald J. Trump was completely buffaloed by the outgoing Obama gang.

They plotted by the lights of the White House Christmas tree to go after the interloper with all they had, starting with the surgical removal of a most dangerous appointee, National Security Advisor Mike Flynn, who knew all the secrets… and from there onto four years of Russia, Russia, Russia…

It’s hardly a mystery anymore how “Joe Biden” got elected. It’s perfectly obvious despite the “big lie” narrative that the 2020 election was stoked with a veritable orgy of ballot fraud and direct election interference by agency rogues, especially the ones leaning hard on Facebook, Twitter, and Google to manipulate what the public actually saw.

Don’t believe your lying eyes they told the nation. What is a mystery is why they chose “Joe Biden” to front for the cabal around Barack Obama actually running the show. Never before in US history was there a president who left such a slime trail of bribery and corruption.

Just as they had spent all their energy the previous four years in undermining Mr. Trump, they had to spend the next four years propping up and defending “Joe Biden,” and then desperately trying to save their own asses from a Trump return.

Meanwhile, they set out on their mission to wreck the country sufficiently to clear the way for establishing a transhuman public-private utopia of crypto-Marxian “equity” (theft of property).

Political Legerdemain

All of this political legerdemain summoned up the miasma of anxiety that beclouded the people of this sore-beset republic, and the nearly final blow to them was the Covid-19 operation, set in motion with the phony PCR test, that has now left a substantial number of citizens, vaccine-injured, disabled, and on-course for an early death — a pretty grotesque affront to our democracy. The victims are beginning to realize it.

The battery of Trump trials and lawsuits meant to put him totally out of business are now all simultaneously collapsing. Special Counsel Jack Smith is left doing Chinese fire drills around his office Keurig coffee machine.

When the prank-fest in Judge Juan Merchan’s courtroom concludes, whether the jury sees the show for the farce that it is, or not, the Golden Golem of Greatness will be at large again among the voters.

If he’s clever enough to pick a capable veep that represents something like “assassination insurance” — say, Vivek, Tulsi Gabbard, or JD Vance — then the Obama cabal and the blob that has been protecting it will be swept out of power and into a dragnet of a kind of law actually associated with the word justice.

They’re running out of ways to avoid it. All they’ve got left are the direst resorts: war, crashing the economy, another bio-weapon op against their own people, or an outright coup d’état. And even those probably won’t work.

[aaronexplainsitall]

I think for me folkmore got blobbed together because they were Covid albums and were so similar. Though I think folklore stuck with me better. Evermore I always think I don’t like any songs on and then I go back and I’m like wait that’s here and not folklore??

Oh I'm totally the other way around! I love Evermore and I always think I like Folklore less than I do, for some reason. Also Folklore was my falling asleep album for ages and I think I got a bit sick of it because I listened to it so much. I use Carrie and Lowell by Sufjan Stevens instead now (very similar vibes btw for anyone who loves Folklore but hasn't listened to Sufjan.)

[pipelinelaserraygun]

Who is going to LITERALLY wind up at the 👣 foot of ✝️ the cross, 👺 unrepentant?

A disciple of 👿 REBELLION.

Indigestion and/or hunger for truth leads to uprising. 🤮🤮

🌒🌑🌖 At the 🔚 of 2024's total solar/lunar eclipse, an underwater mysterious BLOB event 🫧 bubbled to the surface.

There was a near- 1000% total eclipse/media blackout of the phenomenon, except FROM scientific watchdogs.

Would you know "the truth", IF it slapped you in the face?

An electrical, underground, massive discharge occurred during the Saudi Arabian "hajj", ⚡ in 2015. On the 4th day of the 2015 pilgrimage to Mecca, when pilgrims toss little pebbles at a large stone effigy of satan, ALL in the SAME weekend as the crane ⚡ collapse, THOUSANDS were trampled to death around 👿 the effigy.

Naval Russian transports EXCAVATED and shipped an archaeological item to Antarctica, which had been blamed for the ⚡ discharge.

Was Antarctica's "blob" ⚡ moved, DURING the eclipse of 2024?

https://banned.video/watch?id=66382e071caa4ae5422b5b06

MUST ⬆️⬆️⬆️ SEE 👀, x3.

Would you know "the truth", IF it slapped you in the face?

Sometimes, parables are ALL that 🐏 sheeple can handle.

Would you know "the truth", IF it slapped you in the face?