#Pill Food

[pangur-and-grim]

my heart can't take this......Belphie now dashes ahead of me in the mornings and clambers up to sit on the scale, because he knows that after medicating he gets half a tube of churu

I cannot emphasize enough that he placed himself there.

[cheeseproducts]

time for the spooky season

[cinnamonest]

gaahhhh imagine gf reader trying to calm delinquent childe and get him to NOT traumatize and scar new boys coming to their school or later when in college when they need to interact with others more by being as nice and sweet as possible and giving him want he wants (attention, pussy and love). And they almost get like this bartering system and it doesn't help when childe slowly gets a hint that she might be trying to protect these guys- in which case, comes the step of trying to placate him again and convince him this is for his sake and not theirs after getting her own ass beaten by him and fucked to the point she thinks of amping the Pill intake or smthng

(Follow-up to this post)

I’ve been thinking about that AU again for a while, hear me out

Because, see, once you become “official,” he somehow gets worse, something you wouldn’t have even thought possible.

Your life doesn't actually change that much, it’s more that his presence just becomes so utterly and completely inescapable. You used to at least be able to retreat to the comfort of home after school, now you don’t even have that — he’s either forcing his way into your house or dragging you back to his, depending on which has the parents gone, so you can do stuff… or if neither works, he’ll drive you off to some of the nearby abandoned, empty parking lots instead.

He's very vocal about what he now perceives as an “official” relationship. Very touchy in public, even in a school setting. His actual behaviors don't change much — he still steals your things and dangles them over your head, startles you with loud noises, taunts you and humiliates you at every opportunity… now he just does it with extra enthusiasm, like it makes him even more excited than it did before. And you like it, he knows you do. And at this point you've given up on getting the cigarette stench out of everything you own — your clothes, your bed, your car, even your hair. Ugh.

But he becomes so very on-edge, far more aggressive than ever before towards the rest of the male student populace. He’s definitely got a major cheating paranoia, like so many young guys, where he’s so ready to jump to that conclusion over everything. You didn’t respond to him for a while, what were you doing? Why are you smiling at your phone, who are you talking to?

Before, he was a source of frustration and anger and misery, but you never really felt scared the way he often makes you feel now. He was mean, a bully, but he was smiley and clearly deriving amusement from it — a contrast to the sudden serious glare and cold, dark tone and expression when he gets mad, when he grabs you so hard you can’t pull away and demands a minute-by-minute play of the day for the duration of time he couldn’t be glued to your side. It takes an alarming amount of reassurance to calm him down.

You do essentially end up bartering with sex. If you’re lucky, and he’s not too upset, you can just distract him from whatever is making him mad with kisses and smiles and a few reassuring words. But in most cases, you’ll at least have to take your clothes off to really appease him and calm him down, and usually have to spend the rest of the day giving him your completely undivided attention. Giving him lots of cuddles and kisses and pussy and head and affection and all that, just for him, to prove you really only care about him, no interruptions. Even answering texts from your friends and family will have him scowling and sulking again. Why are they more important to you than he is? Do you really even care about him at all, when you’re so easily distracted?

And oh, the moment you try and defend some poor boy, have the audacity to try and get him to not hurt someone, it’s over for you. Nothing sets him off faster.

Rather, it comes in stages — he gets mad, hauls you off somewhere alone if you’re in front of people, holds you by the jaw as you struggle and writhe and asks in some mixture of bewilderment and frustration why you’re doing that. Why would you be upset that he’s protecting you? Why are you mad at him for beating them up? Do you care about them? If you don’t like them, why concern yourself with what happens to them?

If you keep reassuring him, he’ll calm down, but if you keep insisting that he can’t be violent, he gets whiny, petulant, grumbly… and most importantly, he just ignores you and does what he wants anyway. Even if it upsets you, it’s not like that's going to stop him. He just blows off anything you say, completely inconsiderate of your feelings on things.

Even then, sometimes, the situation gets bad. Times where you can’t just calm him down, because you did something exceptionally bad — you fell asleep and didn’t answer him for hours, or you very clearly talked to that guy, he knows, he heard the whole thing, or someone told him (at this point, some of the other students have started telling him they saw you talking to someone or hugging some guy or something to set him off for their own amusement).

Those incidents are the worst — late-night explosive episodes where you’re interrogated on why you spoke with someone or the texts on your phone, as you flail and whimper and claw at the hand on your neck while you desperately try to defend yourself. Those are the times where you genuinely start to feel scared. But even then, with enough effort and appeasing and sex, it’s resolvable... though you may end up with some bruises across your body, or in a few cases, your neck and face... you can just both skip school and stay in bed all day until it's gone. Other people would get the wrong idea if they saw it, they wouldn't understand. As long as you comply with what he wants, it's easily resolved.

Until, one day, you cross a line.

You're just so sick of it all, deep into yet another long argument over him really badly hurting some poor kid who did nothing wrong, and in the frustration of the moment, the words come out of your mouth.

You say you’re leaving him. That you want to break up.

You regret your words, of course, the second they leave your mouth. Even before you see the stages of reaction play out on his face — a second or two of blinking in dumbfounded, blank shock, and the way his expression turns dark — you feel your gut twist in panic.

And you try to sputter out some apology, to backtrack, to say you didn’t mean it, but your feet have already left the ground, you’re already flailing and grasping at the hand wrapped around your throat and hoisting you into the air, before you can even get a full sentence out.

You don’t get to do that to me.

His grip gets tighter with those words. It’s quiet and cold — you’re pretty sure it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him speak quietly, for that matter, but you're too preoccupied with panic to reflect on that.

But you don’t mean it. He knows that. You just said something stupid because you wanted to make him mad. You just wanted to get his attention. You’re being manipulative, trying to control him with threats. You’re being a really bad girlfriend.

You don’t mean it. You’re not being serious. You just said it to get a reaction.

Right?

And see, you nod so vigorously, and you even have tears streaming down your face as you choke and gag. You must feel guilty for saying something so mean. Everyone says things they regret in arguments, right? Just the heat of the moment makes people say stupid things. But as long as you feel guilty, he can forgive you.

You crumple forward on shaky legs when you’re dropped down, more of less falling into him, hands grasping at his shirt — how cute, you’re trying to get reassurance now. You stiffen and shiver at the embrace you’re enveloped by, the arms that wrap around your frame.

...You know, you'll need to figure out something for your neck. It’s already starting to bruise, and it’s very clearly marks from fingers wrapped around… you’ll have to cover it up, you wouldn’t want your parents thinking he’s a bad person or anything.

But’s okay. He’s mature enough to forgive you and move on. And so long as you give him more attention and makeup sex all night, he’ll pretend it didn’t happen… for his own sake too. Just never ever ever say something like that again, and he won't hurt you... not too badly, at least.

[dykedvonte]

I think there is an inherent evil in the fact that P.E. really sends their freighters out with limited food supplies and commodifies sweets/treats.

Not a lot of people are familiar with sugar and the value it had when it came to labors but it was expensive and treated as a luxury. Sugar was a sign of being comfortable and prosperity and even wealth as you could afford to get it and use it in abundance. There's definitely something to be discussed that Curly, who doesn't really care for sweets, was offered the one luxury item they are allotted and the fact the sweetener packets are addictive and a reoccurring device in the game.

It is used as a reward but also to mask the bitter reality or taste of a lot of the events. The mouthwash has just enough sugar to cover the ethanol hence why Swansea drinks so much of it, but has to much to be a disinfectant, only hurting Daisuke more (note he loves sugar). The cake is awarded for Curly and made by him, someone who doesn't care for confections, and serving it commences the bitter reveal of their firing. Jimmy gets Daisuke to use an extra sweetener packet to cover up the extra alcohol in the mocktail and we know where that leads.

At the end when there is no more sugar to cover up the bitter things, we taste the horrors clear as day. They were always a lingering bitter taste in the games story but at the end that's all that's there.

[daftpatience]

you forget your antidepressants for like 2 weeks and suddenly out of nowhere for no reason everyone hates you and is watching and judging your every choice and you can't choose to do anything pleasurable or relaxing without crippling guilt again. so weird

[gummi-stims]

🪲

[fujobritta]

if it makes anyone feel better, the next episode (the fish and the whale) is the braddavid gambling ep ... so my hopes are mostly up

[tj-crochets]

There's a post about like being in the B plot of a sitcom and the only phrase I remember is "a bird is very here" but today I feel like I was a sitcom B plot Which is a long way to say I just got a new bottle of vitamin D3, opened it, and it smelled like rotting meat???? And when I called the company's customer service number to try to get a refund, there was pushback about me identifying the smell of rotten meat correctly*??? Up until the customer service representative said "each batch can have a distinctive scent based on the source, like when we use lanolin" and I said "lanolin is not listed anywhere on the ingredients of this product" and then I was suddenly good to get a refund So yeah anyone have any recommendations for good vitamin brands? I don't think I want to go back to the rotting meat secret lanolin D3 *with each new person I got passed along to I had to be more specific with my description of the smell to get them to understand I was not misidentifying it. Rotting meat is a very distinctive smell and I was VERY surprised to smell it from a bottle of supplements lol

[cutiepieautistic]

Lacey-laceygames stimboard

×/×/× ×/× ×/×/×

[redcomet-stims]

Content warning: fake gore, pills, fire

💊🌈🍜 Song-inspired stimboard: Menheramen by Pepoyo :D

I love rediscovering music. How did I forget that this song is a banger. I can't stop listening to it, I swear to god this song is awesome

Sources:

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x | x | x

[payasita]

senshi was right about everything. hes right about it all

(*adhd meds. you gotta make sure youre eating well on these guys)

[curiositysavesthecat]

*This poll was submitted to us and we simply posted it so people could vote and discuss their opinions on the matter. If you’d like for us to ask the internet a question for you, feel free to drop the poll of your choice in our inbox and we’ll post them anonymously (for more info, please check our pinned post).

[10ava01]

A Year Too Late

Brother’s best friend Frank Castle x F reader

Summary: Franks nightmare of loosiing you becomes true.

Trope: Hurt, Pills, age gap, stress, flashbacks, academic weapon, eating disorder, reader is exactly like Spencer Hastings, comfort end the end, addiction, perfection, overwhelming them self.

Authors note: I’ve wrote the scene from Pretty Little Liars (season 4 episode 20) but just a little differently. If you feel triggered please stop reading. Please seek for help if you struggle with any of this🫶🏻.

Masterlist

Frank had always been a constant in your life—to be exact, your brother’s best friend, the guy who somehow felt more like home than your actual house sometimes does.

You aren't sure when your crush on him started, maybe sometime in high school when you realized he isn't just some older guy who hangs around your house, drinking beers with your brother.

No, he is something more to you.

Someone special.

Someone untouchable.

But that never stopped you from trying to get him.

And trying, you indeed did.

You are not even subtle.

Your witty remarks are always a little sharper with him, your eyes lingering a little longer than they should.

And Frank, you might ask?

He noticed.

Of course, he does.

Anyone who has two eyes could see your crush on the older boy.

He sure isn't stupid like how he might act.

But even then, he never acted on it, never gave you more than fleeting moments of softness that kept you hanging on.

Hoping.

Until the night before he left.

You had been in the backyard, sitting on the wooden steps of the porch, a warm summer breeze twisting through your short hair.

Frank had come out with a beer in hand, his sleeves rolled up as always, forearms flexing as he took a slow sip.

You didn't do anything but watch him.

Memorized his beautiful face for the last time.

"You’re quiet," he had said, looking down at you.

He was analyzing your face and body language now.

You shrugged. "Nothing to say."

That was a lie.

Of course, it was a lie.

You could have said a million things to him.

You would have begged him if it meant for him not to go.

But even you knew it wouldn’t have done any good.

Instead, you looked at his sharp jawline, the way his dark hair curled slightly at the ends, the roughness of his knuckles.

For one last time, you took a good look at him.

He sat down beside you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his skin.

You wanted to stay like this forever.

"You'll be fine while I'm gone," he said. "You're tough."

You scoffed. "I don’t need to be tough. I need you to be here."

Frank had gone still at that, his grip tightening around his beer bottle.

For a second, just a second, you thought he might say something, might even admit that maybe—just maybe—he felt the same way about you too.

But then, he only let out a slow exhale, stood up, and ruffled your hair like you were still the kid who used to follow him and your brother around.

"You’ll be fine, kid," he had said. "I'll see you soon, promise."

A promise you weren’t even sure he would keep.

And just like that, he was gone.

The first time you saw Frank again, it was like being sucker-punched in the gut.

You aren’t the same as he hoped for you to be.

You changed.

You have always been ambitious, always been a force of nature.

But now? Now you are something else entirely.

Polished.

Controlled.

Distant.

Frank had expected things to be the same way he left them a year ago—your house, your family.

You.

But you changed in ways he isn't sure how to process.

Your hair is longer now, your clothes are different, more refined.

You carry yourself differently—straighter posture, sharper focus.

You barely look up from your books when your mother greets him in the kitchen, just mumble something about school before grabbing a glass of water.

Sure, people change over the years, but you?

Everything you had been seems to be replaced by some better version of yourself.

And no one seemed to notice or care.

Not your brother.

Not your parents.

Not your so-called friends.

But Frank did.

He always noticed you, even the tiniest detail.

Frank didn't say much the first day, just observing everything.

He sits at the dinner table, listening to your brother talk about work, your mother gossiping about the new neighbors.

You barely contribute, only offer a small nod if needed or a vague hum every now and then.

You do it out of politeness, but your focus is somewhere else.

And then there was the way you were picking at your food.

Frank didn't say anything about it.

He just watches as you move the vegetables around your plate, barely taking any bites, sipping from your water bottle like it is the only thing keeping you grounded at this point.

It doesn't sit right with him.

None of this does.

The next day, he stops by your house again.

Your brother invited him over to watch the game, and Frank figures it is as good a reason as any to see you again.

Maybe even talk to you.

He finds you in the kitchen, standing by the coffee maker, staring at your phone with a furrowed brow.

"You always this tense now?" he asks, leaning against the counter.

You look up, startled for a second but not surprised before rolling your eyes. "Just busy."

Frank nods slowly. "Yeah? You sleepin’ at all?"

The bags under your eyes make him worry.

You are one of those people who take care of themselves before anything.

But this new you makes him worry.

You scoff, shaking your head. "Jesus, Frank. What is this, an interrogation?"

Your annoyance tells him that his plan of making small conversation is going the wrong way.

He holds up his hands in mock surrender. "Just asking."

You sigh, rubbing your temple. "I’m fine."

You look exhausted, like you haven't slept for weeks.

So of course, he doesn’t believe you.

Not for a second.

2:45 AM

It has been almost a week since Frank got back, and every day, he sees more cracks in the version of you that everyone else seems to accept as normal.

The perfect version you have created for yourself is, in his eyes, anything but perfect.

But this?

This is something else.

Standing outside your bedroom door, he could hear the frantic scribbling of your pen against paper, the quiet but erratic clicks of your laptop keys.

He doesn’t knock.

He just walks in.

You don't even flinch, too absorbed in the chaos of your own mind to notice him at first.

You are buried deep in your work.

Your desk is a mess—papers scattered everywhere, your laptop glows in the dim light.

A half-empty bottle of water sits beside an uncapped bottle of pills.

Frank’s jaw clenches.

He is furious.

You are the last person who would take pills, but here you are with half an empty bottle of them on your desk.

Your breath picks up every few seconds, your eyes bloodshot red as if begging to be closed even for a second, and your hands are shaking from the writing and typing.

"You planning on sleeping anytime soon?" he asks, voice low.

He knows he has to do something, even if it means dragging you to your bed and forcing you to sleep.

You freeze.

Not expecting anyone to be awake at this hour and definitely not Frank Castle.

Your grip on your pen only tightens before you force yourself to relax at his voice, leaning back in your chair with an exasperated sigh.

"What are you doing here, Frank?" Your voice shows no sign of shock.

"I could ask you the same thing," he shot back. "Except I already know the answer."

You roll your eyes at him, standing up to stretch, but the motion only makes you sway slightly.

Frank is in front of you in a second, his arms steadying you.

He easily sees through you, and you hate it.

You huff a laugh, step out of his grasp. "I’m fine."

You don’t even sound convincing to yourself, let alone for him to believe you.

"Yeah?" His eyes flick to the pills on your desk. "That what those are for? Helpin’ you be fine?"

He is angry at you, and you don’t even blame him, but if he knew what situation you were in, then he wouldn't judge you.

You would rather die than speak out loud about your addiction to the pills.

Your stomach twists. "They help me stay awake."

It's one of the things the pills do.

They also give you dizziness sometimes, nausea, loss of appetite, and let you be wide awake at nights like this.

Frank exhales sharply, running a hand over his face. "Jesus, kid."

Kid again.

"Don’t call me that," you snap, suddenly angry. "I’m not a kid anymore, Frank. You don’t get to leave for a year and come back acting like you know what’s best for me."

You have had enough of his bullshit.

Everyone welcomed him back like he never left, without second thoughts, but you aren't like everyone.

When he left, there had been a hollow place inside your chest, and after some time—and thanks to the pills—you felt a little better.

But only for him to come back into your life and ruin the only good thing you built for yourself.

Frank Castle takes and takes until there isn't anything left for him to take.

Until you are nothing.

He leaves and doesn’t even look over his shoulder for even a second. Not for anyone, and you had accepted this fact.

That he is a selfish asshole who took everything from you and left you like a piece of shit.

You are so done with him, and now he is standing here in front of you, lecturing you about what is right and wrong.

He takes a step closer, his presence overwhelming, suffocating you.

"Yeah? Well, someone’s gotta, because no one else around here seems to notice that you’re burnin’ yourself out."

His soft voice makes you almost forget how broken you are because of him.

You swallow hard, your heartbeat hammering through your ears.

You're too exhausted to discuss anything, and the number of pills you took today makes you even more nauseous.

For a moment, it was just silence.

Then, softer this time, he said, "What the hell happened to you?"

He truly wanted to know, as if he isn't the one who made you the way you are right now.

You wanted to tell him, pour your broken heart out to him.

How the pressure had become unbearable, how the expectations never stopped, how the only way you know how to cope is to keep going, to keep working, to never stop.

How after he left, a part of you died.

But you couldn't tell him any of that. You wouldn't. You made a promise to yourself.

So instead, you look away.

Somehow, avoiding everything became so much easier.

You even find comfort in it.

Frank sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "C’mon," he says, his voice softer now. "You need a break."

Panic fills your head at the thought of taking a break.

You aren't even close to finishing the assignment.

Sure, you still have weeks till the due date, but it needs to be perfect.

You need to be perfect.

You can't let anyone see the broken side of you.

Poor little Y/N got her heart broken over her brother’s best friend, who she never had a chance with anyway.

No, you can't become a failure.

Not now.

Not ever.

You shake your head. "I can’t."

He sees the hesitation in your eyes. "You can," he insists. "And you will."

Even after a year, he still has the same effect on you.

And somehow, when he says it like that, you almost believe him.

Almost.

[dellinkou]

[ Some freaks amongst the shinobi ranks had taken to completely swapping out their ration bars for the new set of soldier pills. They were supposed to give "three times more energy" and have a "better than ever" flavor. So obviously Obito gave it a shot too. But the pills tasted like such dog shit he just couldn’t do it. ] @obito-week || prompt: food, any au

[hereissomething]

i betcha cant guess what game ive been playing the past few months!!!! and i betcha cant guess who my favorite babygirls are!!!!!

[gummi-stims]

🪲