#the pills were hell

[itzpris-art]

A year ago, I was told I would be a miracle Something theoretical, I guess...

~

full body version below:

[littleseasalt]

do you guys ever think about richarlystone. like randomly. you're typing out your college research project and then randomly your mind flashes the memory of richarlystone and then you have to stop and be like. wow that was so. so fucked up. a grieving father on drugs sculpted the image of his son using rocks so he could live the happy paradise of the drugs. do you ever randomly remember forever crying while showing a picture of his and richas' special place to richarlystone and then singing the song that is a personal song to the actual cc having him previously cry trying to sing the song to tallulah and making him finish a stream earlier because of it. or is it just a me thing

[calyroco]

Given that Belphegor, the sin of sloth, is making(or at least approving the making of) Stolas' prescribed brand of antidepressants I'm disappointed that they just seem like regular meds. Like since a sin is approving this stuff, it could've resulted in medications that fuck you up instead of really treating the actual issue.

Maybe antidepressants that treat depression by either killing your emotions completely so you have no strong feelings on anything(sort of like a temporary lobotomy) or sedating you so hard you could have surgery done on you and not notice. Since it's hell you could get away with medications not really working the way they should to make the world feel more alien. Instead it's regular, apparently perfectly functional, antidepressants that just so happen to have the stamp of the approval of a deadly sin. It fits with the sloth ring's general medical theme,but that's the best thing the little antidepressant label nod to Belphegor has going for it for me.

Then again,the incorporation of sins into the feel of the rings and what those rings do has never felt particularly strong. Despite being leaders, it feels like they could disappear tomorrow and their absence wouldn't do much.

Like what would happen to the lust ring if Asmodeus pulled a Lucifer and just stopped ruling for a bit? The residents would probably keep going just the same. It doesn't feel like the lust ring is the way it is because of Asmodeus. It feels like it just so happens to contain Asmodeus,y'know?

Admittedly in the grand scheme of things,this isn't a big deal at all. There are much weirder writing choices that could dwarf this teensy tiny detail easily. I just find it boring how when there's an opportunity to shift away from hell being like a generic U.S.-esque setting with a red coat of paint to something more fantastical and alien, it just commits to being our world with a red coat of paint

[ourceliumnetwork]

dry swallowing pills is my stupidest flex. i'm not even showing off anymore i'm just impatient

[ace-with--a-mace]

houses head wilsons heart crushed me wtf doctors...

[woodsborostabathon]

pondering the kirsch siblings orb yet again and you really cannot convince me that quinn would not have been moving like depression era bella in new moon from the moment she even FOUND OUT richie was moving to modesto...

[uniteds]

You're taking it so closely to your heart whatever these random group of men are doing is not relevant even if they wore the jacket it's an empty gesture who cares it's the most corrupt sport nobody has a spine there. Protect your peace

no! it IS an empty gesture but the global right wing fascism creep is a very real problem and the reason the problem exists is that we keep dismissing conversations as pointless. you can’t say that something is the most corrupt sport (and has political sway) and then also say that the people involved in the most corrupt sport are a random group of men and their actions are irrelevant. how does that work?

[kohakhearts]

not to be Hashtag serious about anything because that goes against my principles but this was the first year since i was 18 that i didn’t take antidepressants at all and the first time since i was 16 that i didn’t attend regular therapy (or at least Think i Needed to attend regular therapy) and yeah i wouldnt say i had a Good mental health year but. But. thats a big step for me actually and one i am very pleased with. go me

[leadmeastraylittlefairy]

ran all my errands got myself auntie anne’s pretzels as a reward but i feel too bad to eat them bc my cramps are so bad 🙃 glad im suffering on my extra day off

[writey-unicorn]

So I'm actually reading batman comics instead of just reading fanfiction and watching Panda Redd skits (yes, that is how I got into batman and associates and where most of my headcannons come from and yes, I know how massively I've screwed myself over by doing so) and...

I had only heard tales of the pill helmet.

It's so much worse than I thought it'd be.

[deus-ex-mona]

help nooooo i just realised that they butchered akechi’s character too

[su1c1d3wh0r3z]

TW: F@K3 P!LLZ

~THEY'RE JUST JELLYBEANS~ ^U^

[soup-mother]

surely it's not just me who finds those fucking "be nice, I'm in charge of the pills" pins you sometimes see doctors and nurses wearing in pretty bad taste right? like the *point* is a stand against being mistreated by patients but like...yea you are in charge of the pills and can arbitrarily deny care to people, not really sure why that's something to gloat about? like the number of stories especially of black women being totally denied painkillers in hospital and stuff because the nurses were assholes it's like....maybe you can have your snarky pins when you're not in the position to medically torture someone? idk

like you get people rushing to defend it like "you don't know what it's like working in a hospital" but like...i do sure as hell know what it's like being mistreated by medical professionals. I'm not even getting paid to be here. it's kinda fucking evil when you think about it for more than a second.

[thembo-x]

i just saw who won global all stars

[dr-reids-fidget-toy]

the stuff in that episode was so personal to me. how do they do that

[femonologue]

Many years ago, I was wandering around downtown Ottawa with my best friend. We ran into a friend of his who offered us some hash (it sucked), then said there was a really good house party nearby if we wanted to go. We were like, yeah, sure. So that's how we ended up at some completely fucking random person's house.

I look around to ask if my friend knows anyone here and he's simply gone, as is his friend. And this isn't some red solo cup hangout; this is a party. There's people counting out pills on the kitchen counter. I am clearly neither as cool nor as drug-savvy as the kitchen people, so I back away and instead wander aimlessly into the living room, which seems to give off more of a chill vibe.

A bunch of people are seated in a circle on the floor. One of them is fiddling with a big wad of newspaper or something. A really cute grunge girl with piercings and tattoos scoots aside to make room for me, so I sit down.

"What's that," I ask her, gesturing at the newspaper wad.

She gets a really big smile on her face. You know the smile. It's the I'm About To Watch This Innocent Soul Get High As Fuck smile. "You've never smoked a tulip?"

"What's a tulip?" I ask.

"It's like if a joint was also a bong," she replies. "You gotta try it."

"Alright," I reply, a little uncertainly. This will not be my first encounter with weed. I am more comfortable with the janky newspaper bong than I am with whatever the fuck is going on in the kitchen. Besides, this girl is really cute and I would like to have a friend here now that my existing friend has turned into vapor or been transported to the Upside-Down or whatever the hell happened to him.

I watch as one person holds the newspaper joint-bong upright and holds a lighter over the top while another gets beneath it, tilting their head back to take a puff. Apparently smoking this Cheech & Chong monstrosity is a two-person job.

"Oh," I say, looking at the fist-sized knob at the top of the wonky newspaper joint. "Yeah, it does kinda look like a tulip." Grunge girl smiles at me.

I watch as the tulip is passed around the circle, along with the lighter, and hits are cooperatively taken. It reaches grunge girl, who takes a huge puff and holds it for an extended moment before exhaling an impressive blast of smoke. She smiles expectantly and holds the tulip up for me, preparing to spark the gigantic meteor of dank that makes up its tip. By this point I have completely forgotten about my missing friend. I only care about making a good impression on grunge girl. I tilt my head back and hit the tulip like a smokestack.

It is the following morning. I am sleeping between a couch and a wall. I'm not positive that this is the same house I was just in. My memories are gone. Someone is yelling at me: "dude! Dude! Wake up, dude!"

I sit up. My mouth tastes like cigarettes. I do not smoke cigarettes. "Wha," I ask the yelling man, who I am quite confident I have never met before in my life.

"We're going on a quest," he tells me, gravely. "You have to come with us."

I look around. Neither my friend nor his friend are anywhere in sight. I also do not see grunge girl anywhere. I shrug helplessly. "Okay."

We embark from this house. I learn that the destination of this quest is Tim Horton's. This is a relief to me, as coffee and a donut sounds really fucking good right now. Somehow, the route to Tim Horton's takes us past the Governor-General's residence, which everyone else in the group loudly heckles on the way past. I do not know what the Governor-General has done to raise their ire, nor do I particularly care. I trudge along with my hands in my pockets, pleased to note that I still have my wallet, phone, and keys. I fervently wish that I could remember anything about last night. Maybe I talked to grunge girl. Maybe she's why my mouth tastes like cigarettes. The tulip tasted nothing like cigarettes.

I am asked about my politics. I voice my frustrations with corporate corruption, the pay-to-win electoral system, the lack of transparency and accountability. This is met with great approval. The guy who was yelling at me claps me on the back. I get the impression that we became friends last night. I don't recognize his face. I do not know his name and he definitely does not know mine. I behave as though we're friends anyway. We are comrades on a quest.

By the time we make it to Tim Hortons, the gaggle of stoners I'm walking with have all run out of energy and/or attention span. People order snacks and break away in pairs or solo, to call for rides or plan the day's events or just vegetate and wait for the drugs to leave their systems. I look around and find that my nameless friend has also gone to the Upside-Down. As I wash the cigarette taste out of my mouth with coffee, I unsuccessfully try to remember whether I saw grunge girl smoking tobacco at any point. I remember nothing. That tulip was so fucking powerful that it instantly sent me a whole day forward in time.

Alone in the city, I try to call my best friend and get no answer. I walk to the nearest bus stop, catch a bus most of the way home, and call up my parents to ask for a ride back. They ask where my friend is. I tell them that I have no idea; we went to a house party and I don't remember anything else.

When they pick me up from the bus station, they ask me some very safe, nonspecific questions, and seem to relax when I describe what little I can remember. It isn't until years later that I realize they were probably terrified I'd gotten rufied or something, and were so relieved to learn otherwise that they didn't even bother chiding me for smoking myself unconscious in an effort to impress a strange woman. In any case, they were probably happy to find out that I did, in fact, like girls; I suspect they had been privately wondering whether I was gay.

After getting home, I finally manage to get my best friend to answer his phone. I discover that he tried the kitchen pills, spent most of the night crossing the entire city on foot, and crashed at his cousin's house. He sounds like shit. I tell him that he should have tried the tulip, instead. He fervently agrees with me.

I never see grunge girl again.

That's okay, though. She got to see a clueless stranger get fucked the entire way up on some ungodly strain of giga-weed, and I got smiled at by a cute girl, and then I got to go on a quest. Wherever grunge girl is, I hope she's happy. I hope she's smoking the fattest fucking blunt and smiling as some kid passes out behind a couch.