#thc rambles

[3knecrotic]

Adam Stanheight and Amanda Young are the same character. In this essay I w

[3knecrotic]

HOMOSEXUAL EROTICA VIA GORE AND GROUNDED IN REALITY FELONY CHARGES?!!!!?!??!?!!!!!(NOT CLICKBAIT!!!!)(PART 1 OF 11)(TRIGGERWARNING!!!!!!!!!¡!!!!!!)

[3knecrotic]

The Hexstrap is real.

Ekko and Heimerdinger spearhead the engineering project "for science".

Caitlyn Passionately backs the project and threatens to pull funding from people who try to say the project is "stupid" and/or "unneeded".

Vi socially sponsors but she's relatively indifferent about it.

Jinx does what Caitlyn does, but for Zaun, and instead of threatening with funding, she threatens with C4.

Viktor is against it, but in the same way he's against most hextech weaponry.

Sevika's the only one who can use it. It finishes production, enters Sevika's hand for testing, it's confirmed to be fully functional, and no one has been brave enough to take it off Sevika since.

It doubles as a packer.

[king-of-tragedy]

Not to be melodramatic but "you've got to get better, you're all that I've got"/"I've got to get better, I'm all that I've got" might be one of the most beautifully raw and heartwrenching lyrics I've ever heard sung before. Like. Shoot, man. I really am all that I've got.

[magdaclaire]

yesterday was my first day getting back on my stationary bike since thanksgiving. manifesting my ability to do it again (aka ingesting thc)

[clairefable]

>hit with inspiration just before bed

>who says that Rayquaza was the only one of the Hoenn legendaries to have a religion built around it

>what if there were those who worshipped Groudon and Kyogre but were either converted or killed by the Draconids and their existence wiped from history

> something something long time Team Magma sympathiser and heir to Devon Corp becomes a cult leader something something

>red orb is the literal holy grail and is left on mt pyre for a reason because too much exposure to it makes you go a bit feral (think like tarkat from MK1)

> I swear I'll actually write this shit so that it makes sense one day if anyone cares I have random sentences in a burner discord server for this nonsense

>anyway goodnight

[mangora]

Too much weed discourse. Here’s the gospel truth:

Chase: Pretends he’s smoked weed but gets the details obviously wrong. Would believe you if you sold him a bag of crushed oregano and told him it was bud and then he would eat it and start acting insane. He takes an edible and starts crying and puking because he’s so high (it’s like 10mg)

Emma: Would never smoke weed, I don’t think she has many opinions on it though. She would get really mad at Chase for getting high and doing stupid shit tho

Ripper: Similar to Chase but when he takes edibles he takes like ten of them and starts running around naked and screaming

Zee: I mean they’re basically canonically a stoner but I saw this post by @td-hateblog on how funny it would be if Zee didn’t know what weed was and was just Like That and honestly I don’t know which idea I like more

Axel: Thinks weed will destroy her survival skills and avoids it like the plague

Nichelle: Used a cart once because idk celebrity connections and didn’t really like it

Bowie: Similar to Nichelle, tried it like once and thought it was mid as fuck. Also I think he’d be really grossed out by the resin which, fair

Raj: Afraid of smoking weed but is nice about it

Wayne: Not afraid of smoking weed but he isn’t interested. He’s chill about it though

Julia: Definitely smoked a lot of weed before the show but then she got sober and became a girlboss (read: aggressive)

Priya: Also afraid of weed and would be horrified if someone offered it to her

Millie: Wouldn’t use weed but would definitely want to be in the room observing people when they’re high

Damien: I honestly don’t know. Probably uses it like once in a while at parties but not a lot. He knows like all the chemistry and health pros & cons though

Caleb: He literally doesn’t have a personality idfk

MK: Smokes a cart like once a week

Scary Girl: Hits a bong like five times in a row and acts totally normal by her standards and everyone is astounded

[3knecrotic]

Great. Boring at home. Boring at work. Boring buying things. Boring cooking Boring eating Boring Boring Boring Boring oh my God I'm gonna crawl out of my fuckimg skinnn

[3knecrotic]

@bloodsuckerbobux you energy idk why

how much water did u drink today ?

1,000,000,000,000 gigaslurps 😁

[mysteryghost]

Me: yeah idk if delta-8 will really get me high or anything-

Me, post gummy: *starts explaining random plot points from homestuck to my fiance for 28 minutes straight only pausing because they had to get up for a moment*

[sleeplessv0id]

Last week was homecoming week, so on Friday, we had a parade. I and some friends left school grounds and walked over to EJ's house and smoked before walking back to the parade.

Normally, I expect to get searched if I leave anywhere with those two. Love them, but damn... So my dumbass went above and beyond and put it under my hat, on my head. 'Cause my principal has one of those wands.

We did not get searched.

Then, before school got out, one of my friends' boyfriends lifted my hat off of my head asking, "What's under here? 🤔" Before I slowly put it back on my hat and went, "Drugs 🤫😉," before he said fair enough and the end.

[bishiglomper]

7:30 - Eat dinner. Go to bed with fibro and migraine.

...And it's 3am whoops

But wow a whole 8 hours for once

Bff got me some gummies. I took half which should have only been 10mg.

It hit too hard though. Or my migraine/vertigo was in full swing. Or both. It wasn't the most pleasant. Head so swimmy.

Got good sleep though I guess

I'm wondering if eating is making this stuff more potent for me. It's always right after i eat that it decides to be effective. Especially too effective.

I mean if we think caffeine will turbo charge it, probably my tachycardia flare up would too. Blood vessels just going WHOOOSH

Heck maybe that one time was just because I consumed an iced coffee and it was just my body processing it. Probably had tachycardia and gave it a circulation boost.

Maybe I don't have good circulation otherwise? And it just sits there and doesnt metabolize right 🫠

[the-moffman]

i'm getting creative~

[demi-kitty]

Off antidepressants: a short mindramble about finding my creativity and then realizing that antidepressants "muffle" all I feel.

Personal experience with depression compressed over years finally being let out like a spring in a can. So many emotional experiences written about, so little time.

You can probable skip the paragraphs of recipe-level personal anecdotes. This is mostly metaphorical pseudo-poetic stream of consciousness about medicine and audhd *as my personal experience*.

I recently went off my meds

Just antidepressants

Not by choice really

I had started intermittently forgetting to take them

I don't know why

I started experiencing intrusive sleep

I was starting to unmask as I learned I might be AuDHD - ADHD and Autism

Things I had done years previously but had nearly forgotten now made sense. I cringed. Laughed at my child self, and moved on.

But my mind was hell, intermittent feeling muffled, intermittently my emotions threatening to break through.

I think it cost my my job

I smoked weed to hide the pain

I couldn't tell my mother

I stopped being a good employee

I stopped being a model human

My head was a mess

I'm praying for a dream to make me fall out of this world. Not stop, no, just make the world stop.

I need a break.

I'd like off this rides, the ups and downs are making me sick.

But I'm technically the only one at my job that can do what I do. I can't go off without worrying they'll be backed up. I'm barely needed, but needed at least once daily.

So I'm let go because the empty nothing of the day was dulling my mind and I couldn't think straight.

So I stop being insured

And I was out of zoloft substitute

And I was scared of the beast that had since been pacified

Three months of my medication being gone awaited me, three months of weekly "may I please have my medicine" and not hearing back anything but "we need insurance to schedule you".

Everything was chaos. Everything was bubbling over.

The smallest change in plans sent me into a meltdown.

I forgot that I was attending a family get together, and my mom being kind and reminding me a few hours early made me break down.

Full meltdown, fully sobbing and crying "please" in the shower, while scrubbing myself down and telling myself I'll feel better in a few hours.

Begging, pleading, my whole skin and bones wanted to just plop onto my computer chair and play the games. Easy dopamine was better than leaving my comfort zone.

I dried myself off with my musty towel, don't mind the cat box needing cleaning in the same room. I throw on clothes the cats have slept in, pretending I can hide the wrinkles. I sneak some weed without thinking. Maybe it'll make me think clearer.

I text my mom and ask if we can get something from the store for the potluck. Mom agrees. I get something for the kids, and something I known I'll eat. Suddenly Becky's store-bought cookies make more sense. I'm fighting tears and feel like an infant the entire walk from mum's car to the store and back. The kids play Bocce Ball and I can't stop reminiscing.

It's a lovely gathering, everyone behaves like adults. My grandparents expressed sympathy about the housing market last time we met, a few months ago. I forgot to tell them I'm unemployed now. Might as well tell them here. We talk about how to get a job like adults trying to be logical about the job market. I bite my tongue about autism as much as I can.

My mother who has made ends meet during a financially abusive father chimes in, she's looking for a part time job. Her apartment is unaffordable, and she lives with her partner now. They're happy, but things are looking rough even from there.

We discuss activism. I tenderly ask about the house my grandparents lived in before they moved back into their trailer.

I'm back home before I know it. I've had a real meal. I've had some real socializing.

And the days before, and the days after, it's hell. All blended together. These 3 months. That was just one event.

But for once something else pushes through. A huge sensation of spite.

Motivation.

Motivation pushing something old from inside me.

I want to make

I'm an artist again

I'm seeing colors.

The difference between the hues, the structure of the bones to the muscles to the skin to the hair and clothes.

My the skills are rusty. It's clunky.

I'm able to pour my soul into something again. I'm ready to learn and grow again.

I start to make. I draw.

I get a glove for my tablet.

I play with colors.

Lineart.

I finish a piece.

It sucks.

I hate it.

And I love the feeling.

I understand what it feels like to have rekindled something.

I found my passion, my soulmate.

My best friend from toddlers to highschool found me again and it was the best.

But my old best friend still hadn't shaken their best friend.

The painful emotions that are expressed in creativity. Uncovered at last, hand in wonderful hand.

In between meals and cleaning up my apartment, I feel it.

So much pushing to the surface. I don't control it. It's not even tangible.

Layers upon layers of painted emotions to mask the real pain underneath.

All different colors in hindsight, blues and reds.

So many memories, so many emotions I've forgotten to feel. In moments I'm jubilation itself, dancing across my apartment and whispering sorry when I stomp.

In a split second tears are pouring down my face.

Agony courses through me.

I'm sobbing and wretching out my heart because there's too much overflowing.

Spilling colors and rainbows of emotion.

Van Gogh's madness makes perfect sense, and it hurts.

When you need to stretch a muscle you haven't flexed in a while, it tends to feel like you remember how to move it, but it hurts or it's stiff. It pops and hurts. You push it beyond its current means so it remembers to support you.

I could almost feel my mind reconnecting the wires as I sat back and painted on my iPad and on a canvas.

Like Viktor Frankenstein, I was gripped with creative madness and could not stop painting.

Pouring blues and blacks for a night sky, hoping to sieze the creative urge in the moment.

An old friend you suppress the urge to kidnap because you're scared you'll never see them again.

I remember why I studied art, studied Japanese.

Wow.

The world has so much color I forgot about.

So many details stick out, like I've been given glasses and the world is clearer.

The world's on fire, but I'm appreciating some of the smaller things again.

Things I forgot I could appreciate.

Vibrant sunlight filtering through leaves.

And anger. So much. So much anger.

It's foreign, it's lovely. It's overwhelming.

Love. For my little fictional characters. Their world is still there.

Ready to be made

The brain muscle flexes and my chest tightens.

And I sob for the years past boiling over.

And then it ends again. And I'm still sobbing.

Daily, my emotions pour out onto the floor. I'm mentally in the second grade reliving a memory, then I remember I'm here in my 25 year old body. Then I'm a teenager and it's 2014.

I can't even leave my house. I'm in shambles. Facing a demon I knew would attack one day, but hoped would never experience.

Medi-cal goes through. The one thing I wanted, needed, pleaded, was for a refill of sertraline. Make the pain go away. At any cost.

I can't even go for it myself. I feel like a coward as I text my mother, I'm too scared to leave the house. It's been too emotional.

"How are you feeling?" She asks as she worriedly gets me my sertraline.

Facing down eternity and every possibility to a single answer, I'm overwhelmed, and cry again.

Never better, I'm creating like it's an old friend.

Never worse, it's been months without a job and everything hurts.

I'm catching up on games I missed out on as a kid, I'm painting, I'm facing a normal, refreshing sleep schedule.

I can't interact with a human without turning into an emotional puddle of mental nonsense.

I should probably not be facing these moments alone, but I don't want my loved ones to see me like this.

Layers upon layers of my love and hate and pain are overflowing

Observations in antidepressants

For a split second it's magical

I'm able to make the calls I need. The most important things I can't stop pushing off are done.

I can read through a single Geronimo Stilton

Then it settles back again.

The emotional turmoil was there. It was just more muffled.

Like a jaguar that got out. It pounced and attacked. It was caged outside its habitat after all. The zookeeper put it back in. The zoo has started cleaning up.

The jaguar is still there, and it hungers for it's freedom.

I tasted freedom. I want to feel it again.

The antidepressants begin to cloud my abilities.

The world fades and blurs.

I stop painting again.

My passion projects fall out of my motivation and reach.

And I'm finally able to put words to how I feel.

The antidepressants feel like sludge.

I'm wading through the sludge of my mind. It all slurs together.

A blanket of sludge plopped on a problem. The pain is still abundant, so it's producing in excess.

The emotions had to try so hard to be heard, so when the dam was released it flooded the town.

The creativity is dimmed and the motivation is beyond my reach.

I sleep for hours because I can't remember how well-rested feels.

No wonder I felt like a robot.

What I crave most is being drip-fed on the wrong frequency and consistency. Everything is muffled, to the point the backup upon compressed backup started pushing things through.

A pressurized canister went off and I had years of pain and creativity to make up for.

I think the antidepressants kill my creativity.

They kill my motivation and create a block to both my emotion and the rest of myself.

I found the me I was happiest with in those moments of unmedication.

I found the me who couldn't stand reality and refused to partake another second.

I found the creativity I missed.

I found the suicidalmind I had fought so hard to forget.

But now the spigots are back to being identical.

Slow dripping.

I don't have much motivation to exist, to create, to feel.

I only feel motivated as I'm falling asleep late late in the night.

Then I'm convinced tomorrow I'll conquer the world.

After a nap.

A sludge blanket has compressed my world again.

It was great when feeling apathy could get me through the day, but now my skills are withering like non-native plants in the desert and I'm staring across a longer distance trying to reach out to that happiness I used to be able to grasp.

I'm not "me" on my medicine, because it keeps me from feeling the energy and joy that I've tied myself and my soul to.

But I'm "me" on my medicine because it stops me from feeling the pain that whispers "just a bit. You're so small, you could stop existing for a bit."

My creativity wants to be loud, but it's logic knows I won't get far.

I'm resigned to that, but my medicine makes the logic too loud it stops the rest of my creativity from keeping on.

There must be a way these coexist.

"I'm" pushed down like garbage, but it needs to be unpacked and sorted, otherwise everything I accidentally tossed in there will rot with it.

My brain is tired of wading through sludge. It's been focusing on pushing through for survival, it forgot that it was inhibited and started giving up.

It has so much boiling out from under the surface.

I think I need to look into taking a different antidepressant.

[petrichorvoices]

We forgot our testosterone for the second day in a row. Fuck.

[itsmelb]

How u guys holding up...bc Barcode will sing his new song tonight...are u feeling nauseous like me or are u fine (Friends' Ross voice)..bc I am not kidding you I can't anymore aaaaah