puke-stains

Part 2 of THIS fic got longer than I planned.

(NSFW & some mild emotional angst under the cut for Kait’s Loverboy AU.)

A million thanks to @seeyounextlevel and @book-of-flights for beta-reading my draft and turning it into something presentable (and listening to me whine a lot)


Yuri nearly chokes on his own spit when he feels someone poking his shoulder. He is ready to roast whoever it is that inconsiderate bastard who dares to wake him up so early, when he had barely closed his eyes behind his heart-shaped sunglasses. f only he had the energy to open them fully and glare at the scum who disturbed his slumber. He might be napping on a bench under an oak tree pretending to be awake but since when did people run around, pulling and poking at strangers who—

“Yuri?”

Otabek.

Keep reading

One of the original Star Wars trilogy staples J.J. Abrams presumably wanted to revisit for Episode VII was having a bulbous alien who’s a total d-bag to citizens of a desert planet. How else can you explain Unkar Plutt, the junk dealer who resembles a SpongeBob SquarePants character who sold his soul for a truckload of meth?

But how was this character made? Was he CGI? A failed attempt by the Henson Company to make an Alex Jones puppet? Nope, it was mostly just a dude in a costume – and not just any dude, but famed actor and all-around nerd Simon Pegg (best known for Shaun Of The Dead, Hot Fuzz, and, oh yeah, Star Trek).

Adding to the “who the hell is that”-ness of the whole thing, Pegg’s flabby prosthetic face was augmented by digital effects to make the character “as gross as possible,” thankfully stopping short of adding puke stains to his overalls and making Axl Rose his roommate. Pegg’s voice has also been altered in the movie, changing the pitch of his lilting British accent to a low, cranky growl – less Shaun Of The Dead, more Buffalo Bill from Silence Of The Lambs.

7 Movies That Secretly Hid Big Actors Under Special Effects

Close Encounters of the Tumblring Kind

Belle keeps her new aunties’ blankies warm while they’re across town partying and generally disturbing the neighbourhood on Saturday

Not wanting to be outdone by their Auntie Knife Wumman 🔪 @just-a-wretched-wumman, Rerun and Belle hosted a good-times sleepover for a freshly-met ol’ Tumblr pal this past weekend. (Note to @caitcrumbcake: You would have had tons o’ fun. Winnipeg has many museums. We didn’t go to any, but happily would have had you been here to inspire us.)

The former @little-wine-lac was with us on Tumblr for a good time, not a long time, in 2016, and continues to ship and ride the train with the rest of us deluded-and-oblivious-to-evil-intending-entertainers Outlander fans. She and her adult dotter were in town to attend a family milestone celebration, and crashed Chez River-Fraser for two sleeps. Among other treasures they presented us was a lovely box of fine dark chocolates, including several Banoffee Pie selections. Mmm… banoffee pie…

Incidentally, liittle-wine-lac is the genius who provided me with the marriage train image, which remains a vital element of my blogging toolkit, my being a consistently deluded-and-oblivious-to-evil-intending-entertainers Outlander fan.

I’m not embarrassed one drop to admit we drove Murtz, the cats, and little-wine-lac’s dotter nuts, talking and laughing about Outlander, Tumblr, social media in general, and how we would solve all the world’s problems if people would only follow our leads. Knife Wumman 🔪 is right. Despite the utter stoopidity of so much that happens in the online fandom, “meeting your Crumbcake 🍰” quickly results in laughing at the bullshit and embracing the friendship. Do it! You won’t be disappointed.

(If you’re really hard up and I’m someone you’d like to meet, I recommend you get here this week while the condo is still clean, the pantry and fridge are still stocked, and there is only one post-professional-shampooing cat-puke stain on the carpet. Please phone ahead. Space is limited. Offer not valid in Québec.)

Should she read this post and see other jackasses’ names and not hers, @fromeheretoeternity1121’s whining could be heard from anywhere on the globe. To save my three readers that discomfort, “Hi Eternity 👠. Hope you had a wonderful Ol’ Mither’s Day and managed to stay out of jail for most of the weekend.That outta keep her quiet for a minute or two.

puke on carpet stained gold dust
there’s no bottom to this ship
lines of people begging for,
for explanations and conclusions
thismovie’s over, i can tell
the screen is dark, the credits,
the credits finished rolling
there’s no bottom to this ship
upchuck in the toilet, sounds of
righteous anger skim the night
the darkness is a pleasant thing,
a true reprieve from the brutal
beat-down of the sun (gold-dust
on the carpet, mixed with barf–
i know it well, i know it well)
—  screen is dark; sometimes a mess highlights all the beautiful things we might normally miss

Things accomplished today:

- Went to JoAnn to buy two more skeins of the yarn I’m gonna use for a shawl. Sunday morning is a bad time to go to JoAnn, because that’s when all the old ladies with seven hundred coupons are out. Just so you know.

- Went to Target for groceries. Managed to beat the church crowd there, thank all the gods.

- Got gas and a car wash, because my car was covered in an inch of filth from the winter.

- Wrote a bunch of AU nonsense with @blindvogel , as per usual.

- Tried to clean the cat puke stain off the futon. Was moderately successful, thanks to Nature’s Miracle. (Thanks guys, it’s as if you know there’s someone coming to sleep on the futon in a week or so. At least we have a new futon cover!)

- Emptied and dusted the living room low shelves. 

- Emptied and dusted my office shelves. Have mostly put them back together, except for a small pile of crap still on the coffee table.

- Did a load of dishes. 

- Wound a skein of yarn into a center pull ball while watching the first episode of the new MST3K. 

- Got a brief start on the shawl, which may need to be frogged tomorrow because I think I miscounted somewhere, but oh well.

So. Fairly successful Sunday, I suppose. Now to face down Monday and hope for no panic attacks.

Escape; pt.4

Reader x Jungkook // (???)!AU // 3824 words

Summary: Everyone has a number over their heads that says how useful they are to society from 0-100. You have a number ‘4’. You leave the city for some peace but you meet your cocky neighbor who seems to get on your nerves.

Genre: Fluff?

Y/L/N refers to your last name/family name

A/N: Who cares about Y/N and Jungkook because the real question is does Buster make it?

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 5  // Part 6

Previously…

You let your free hand grasp Jungkook’s tightly and move to interlace your fingers with his. You just needed this right now, his hand in yours or you might just breakdown in his car. Buster, please buddy you can’t leave me like this.


You fidget in your seat as you wait for the results of Buster’s surgery. You had come barging into the emergency veterinary clinic with Buster in hand and your words were simply all over the place so Jungkook had to do most of the talking. As the vet assessed Buster, you were still close to tears, grasping onto Jungkook’s hand for comfort and he would leave soft kisses on the top of your head to calm you down. In any other situation, you would question his actions but you were far too occupied with the situation at hand to worry about that.

“Oh sweetie, I’m sure his symptoms scared you but Buster here is only suffering from urinary stones in his bladder.”

“Urinary stones?”

“Yeah, you’re going to have to change his diet but first we need to get him into surgery to remove the stones.”

“Surgery?”

“Not to worry it’ll be a small keyhole surgery, so there isn’t much risk involved.”

You could only nod your head while petting Buster one more time before the vet puts him under anesthesia for the surgery.


You know the vet said that Buster would probably be alright and that the surgery would probably go smoothly but you can’t help but feel anxious as you wait for the surgery to come to an end. You wanted to tell Jungkook that he could leave and that you’ll be alright but the truth is that you wouldn’t be so you let him stay beside you with his fingers still interlaced with yours. He would look down from time to time at your tiny hand clasped between his and he would smile. He didn’t know how long he’d been waiting to hold your hand like this but all he knows is that he’s glad that you seem to find comfort in his presence.

“Y/N, did I ever tell you about how I got this tiny scar on my left cheek?” Jungkook says as he points to it.

You shake your head no and he smiles before he begins his story.

“Well there was this one time where..”

He’s been doing this all throughout the wait. Telling you stories of his past so he could take Buster’s surgery off of your mind and you can’t help but feel grateful when you look at him. For your family to think that he’s using you was simply absurd to you because like many times before you feel a sense of genuineness in his company. He didn’t have to wait with you, didn’t have to hold your hand, didn’t have to tell you stories and yet he did all of those things and you can’t help but think about how precious he is as you watch him intently tell you the story behind his scar.

You know you were traveling down a dangerous path as you felt your feelings grow for him. Forget that your families are sworn enemies but the difference between your numbers were so great that it would possibly be a world record if the two of you got together. As much as you tell yourself that your number doesn’t define you, you can’t change the way society thinks so, you try your best to push away the feelings you think you have for him.

“So, I mean the scar’s barely noticeable bu—“

“Ms. Y/N, Y/L/N?” A nurse calls out, interrupting Jungkook’s story.

You stand up almost immediately, “Yes, that’s me.”

She signals for you to enter the room and you quickly drag Jungkook with you.

“The surgery went well as you can see but we would like to keep him here to monitor his condition in case of any complications.”

“S-sure, of course.”

“Well, you should go get some sleep then. I’m sure you’ve had a long day.” The vet says with a smile.

At that, you only bow at her while thanking her for all that she’s done.


Sitting in his car you let out a deep breath, finally being able to relax at the thought that you’ll have Buster right by your side again by tomorrow.

“Y/N, how about we just stay in the city tonight? It’s a little too late to drive back now.”

“Sure… but where? I don’t think your family will be very happy at the idea of me being inside your family home because you know we’re rivals and all that,” You say with a small laugh.

“Are we? I didn’t know that,” Jungkook replies sarcastically and you playfully punch his arm.

“Whatever, asshole.”

“I have a small studio apartment in town so yeah but I mean if you want to meet my family again that’s fine, we can go there too. I didn’t know you were so eager to meet your future in-laws,” He says as he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

You blush at the implications of his sentence and you try to think of a good response but you’re so flustered that your brain can’t seem to form a witty comeback.

“W-What I don’t… Just, shut up and drive ok.”

“Sure thing, babe,” Jungkook says in between laughs.

Keep reading

(Seeing Axl with Erin, while engaged to Axl)

“We’ll be landing in 15 minutes” the pilot said over the PA system on the plane you were on, startling you awake. Though you were having quite the nice dream you couldn’t wait to land and finally see your fiancé. The last time you saw Axl was right before you left on a two week business trip, which was the night he popped the question to you.

The plane had finally landed and Axl was picking you up, you practically trampled the people in the aisle way to be able to see him. The moment you saw him your heart dropped; he was standing there holding none other than Erin’s hand looking very engaged in their conversation. You looked at your hand where the small diamond ring was before you stormed over to see what was going on. “Axl what the fuck is this? I leave for two weeks and you go back to her?”

Axl jumped up and threw Erin’s hand down and walked over to you. Attempting to grab you; you pulled away, not wanting him to touch you at the moment. “Y/N it’s not what it looked like! Baby, I fuckin’ missed you… Let’s go home and talk this out, please.”

You couldn’t even look at him; you just proceeded to walk away to baggage claim until you heard a female voice which made you whip around. It was Erin. “Y/N, I swear I wouldn’t do anything to ruin yours and Axl’s relationship!”

You got dangerously close to Erin which made her frozen in place, flinching when you spoke. “I don’t want to hear it out of you; I know he still loves you. And you, Axl? I’m getting a taxi; we will talk about this at home, but I will not sit in the same car with you right now.”

Flagging down a taxi, you threw your bag in first before you slumped down onto the puke stained seats. Your anger had turned into tears, spending the whole way home crying thinking about your future. When you arrived home you told the driver not to leave, you never knew what could happen. Walking into yours and Axl’s bedroom you saw a delicately folded piece of paper labeled ‘Erin’. Unfolding it as fast as you could; you saw the top of it was a note for her above a song he wrote for her, ‘Erin, I will always love you’.

Not wanting to fight with Axl about any of this, you folded up the piece of paper, placed your ring next to it, grabbed your bags and headed back to the airport. You had to go see your best friend, Duff. You didn’t intend on telling Duff you were coming, you were just going to show up and stay there until you figured out your next move.

Duff was surprised to see you at your door, but even more so to see your tear soaked face at his front door. “Y/N, what the hell is going on? Where’s Axl?”

Struggling to speak through your sobs, you told Duff the news. “H-He was with Erin and they were holding hands at the airport. Duff, he wrote a love song for her and it was on our bed. I left the engagement ring on the bed and left.”

Duff leaned against the doorframe and ran his fingers through his hair before taking you into his arms. “Shit, Y/N, that’s really shitty… I don’t even know what to say besides shit. I know what you need, you need a drink.”

Walking into the kitchen with him you grabbed two glasses from the cabinet, setting them on the counter for Duff to fill with none other than vodka. The two of you went back into the living room where you laid on the couch while Duff stared at you in offense to taking his spot. As the night went on you told him of your business trip; until you were interrupted by the phone, the two of you looked at each other knowing who it was. “No man, she’s not here I’m sorry. What happened?”

You nodded your head at Duff, thankful he didn’t rat you out to Axl. Beginning to feel tired after Duff returned to the couch, you grabbed your half full cup and headed for the guest room. “Thanks for letting me stay here, it means a lot. I won’t be here long I promise, just until I find a place of my own.”

He got up to come hug you, seeing that you were yet again crying. “You’re my best friend; you can stay here for however long you want. Things will turn around, I love ya Y/N.”

The next morning you woke up to go make yourself coffee, grabbing a mug and starting the pot you waited for the coffee to brew. Out of the corner of your eye you saw a body sitting at the small kitchen table and assumed it was Duff. “Good morning Du-… Axl?”

You dropped the coffee mug onto the floor, letting it crash into a million pieces once you saw it was Axl and not Duff. Axl walked over to clean up the jagged pieces of ceramic scattered all over the floor as you stood there in shock. You heard Duff’s footsteps coming down the hall; he started talking before he stopped in his tracks, shocked at the sight of the redhead. “What the fuck is goin’ on in here Y/N?! Oh shit… Hey Ax… Uh, I’m gonna head back to bed.”

Axl stood up to throw away the collection of the broken coffee mug pieces he had in his hand before he finally spoke to you. “Duff’s a bad liar, I knew you were here.” He shoved his hand into his back pocket, pulling out your ring and laying it in his palm. “I think you forgot this, Y/N.”

You gently closed his palm and took a step back to lean on the stove. “No, I left that there on purpose. As many times as we’ve talked about Erin and you being over her, I never believed you. I just never had evidence to prove it until now. First the airport, then I find the love note and love song to her. Go home to the girl you really love, Axl. Don’t waste your time with me.”

Axl walked over to you and leaned up against the counter next to you. “I know it looked bad yesterday, but I was telling her about you. I was telling her I found someone who replaced the void in my heart she left. It was huge, Y/N, and you filled it. The love song you found? It was from before we even met; you have nothing to worry about. I love you.”

Axl brought the ring out once again, opening his clenched fist to reveal the small, yet beautiful diamond. You grabbed it and slowly slipped it back onto your finger, looking up at Axl with your eyes glistened by tears. “I love you, Axl. Please take me home.”

Axl wrapped his arms around you, bringing you into his chest and squeezing you tightly. Duff walked into the kitchen with a gigantic grin smeared over his face. “I knew it!!! Group hug!!! You crazy kids in love.”

Vampire Money (Short Story Smut)

Vampire Money (Short Story Smut)
[Michael Clifford]
Rating: R
AN: the intro is extensive, but I hope you enjoy!

After my least favorite class, pre-calc, I sighed in relief. Mr. W hadn’t assigned any homework for the weekend. Another homework grade would’ve dropped my grade below a B, which would’ve pissed my parents off that I had gotten another C in pre-calc for the third time, despite the fact my parents are the worst at math.

I placed my earbuds in my ears, and loudly played my music, walking to my final period, English 11. Even though I loved writing, I hated English class. The class was very easy, but it was very difficult to pay attention when he sat adjacent to me, on my right, and we both sat near the back of Mrs. Ritter’s dusty but large, classroom. And additionally, Mrs. Ritter is a complete and total bitch.

Michael Clifford. No one really knows who he is, he’s not like the all-star of the football team, he only has a small circle of friends. Most of the attention he recieves is stares, at his flaming red hair, and the black eyebrow piercing.

I’ve had a crush on him for only about a month now, but I’ve never made the effort to talk to him. His music taste is phenomenal, and similar to mine from what I can tell. He wears band shirts practically every other day, and he’s never repeated one of the shirts.

As soon as I made it to Mrs. Ritter’s class, I sat in my usual seat, with 4 more minutes to spare before the bell rings. I nodded along to my music while taking out my English notebook, and heard someone faintly talking to me while I was checking the time on my phone.

I pulled out my earbud and turned around, my phone in both of my hands on the desk. “Huh?” I said, as I now face Michael. My heart begins to thump.

“You like My Chem?” He said smiling, pointing to my phone.

I felt my face blush and burn up. “Oh! Uh, yeah, Iove them.” I smiled back nervously. “I love All Time Low, too.” I said, referring to his shirt.

“Well damn,” Michael chuckled, setting his books down onto his desk, and leaning onto his chair. “We definitely need to talk about music.”

“Definitely,” I said, as the bell rang.

“OK, everyone take out their homework,”
Mrs. Ritter began. “I will be coming around to check it.”

“God fucking damn it!” I muttered to myself, furiously searching through my bag for the Grammar Packet she’d assigned us.

“’Sa matter? Didn’t do the homework?” Michael smirked.

I glared at him, setting my bag back down on the floor. “No, I did, I just don’t have it with me.”

“Tisk tisk, you know what the old bat’s policy is. No homework equals a detention.”

I smiled, playfully rolling my eyes. “Like you did it either.”

Before Michael could respond, Mrs. Ritter interrupted. “(Y/N), where’s your homework? And Michael, you didn’t do it again, of course.”

“I don’t have mine.” I stated, as she checked our names on her list.

“Very well, detention for both of you. You’ll stay after class.” She instructed sternly.

I sighed loudly in frustration. I guess I’d be considered a “goody goody,” because I’ve never had a detention, suspension, I always did my homework, and so on. As you can imagine, my parents are going to kill me when the find out I have detention.

“Don’t worry,” Michael said, interrupting my thoughts. “I’ll make detention fun.” He winked.

I swallowed the lump in my throat as I turned crimson red from his sexual joke, and avoided eye contact. Was his joke serious? No one had ever talked to me this way.

“Let’s see,” Mrs. Ritter anounced, looking down at her clipboard through her bifocals. “We will go over the packet but first, Clifford, (Y/L/N), you’ll go out in the hallway. No talking. Each of you get one of the packets on that desk on your way out.” She said.

Relucantly, I made my way out of the classroom as Michael followed behind me, and we each grabbed one of the packets. The packet was at least 5 pages long, and there was about 20 questions on each page. I sighed in annoyance, that I had to complete this again, even though I had done this last night.

But, I was happy I was finally talking to Michael, despite the fact I got really nervous, probably due to the general anxiety I got around males, since I’d been so inexperienced.

I sat down on the cold tiled floor, leaning against the lockers.

Shortly after, Michael came out, with both of our backpacks, and I looked at him with my one eyebrow cocked in confusion.

“Why did you get our bags?” I questioned.

“Because,” he said, holding his hand out for me. “Stand up. We’re leaving.”

I took his hand(which was very nice and soft) standing up, and took my bag from his other hand. “No, no, no, we can’t! We have detention!” I exclaimed in a low voice. “We’ll just get a suspension or something worse.” I let go of his hand, reluctantly.

“Okay, fine.” Michael said, setting his black backpack down on the floor, unzipping it. He then pulled out a black cube-shaped lunch box, then pulled out a bottle filled with a mysterious-looking concoction. “Take this, and dump some of it into a bathroom stall, don’t flush it. I’ll go in and tell Mrs. Ritter, you’ll go to the nurse, you’ll be sent home.“ He handed me the bottle.

"But, what the hell is in this?” I looked at it, disgusted.

“Oh, it’s just a smoothie, from lunch; but it looks like vomit so it’ll be fine. Now, run to the bathroom, remember that there’s cameras.” He reminded me.

“Right.”

I ran down to the bathroom at the end of the hallway on the right corner. Luckily when I entered, there’d been no one in the bathroom.

I smiled to myself. I’m amused that Michael was pulling this off and thought of this little scheme just to hang out with me.

I poured the smoothie into the bathroom stall, and dipped my finger in the water bottle, and smeared some on my sweatshirt. I came back out with my hand on my stomach, and walked back towards Michael, where he had been standing with Mrs. Ritter.

“Oh my, (Y/N), I hope you get better. Michael, why don’t you go with her and take the waste bin right there to make sure she makes it to the nurse okay?” Mrs. Ritter said, actually sounding concerned.

“Will do, Ma’am.”

Despite the fact there’d only been about an hour left in the day, the nurse sent me home, and told me I would make up my detention on Monday. Michael waited in the small waiting area for me.

“Is your mother busy?” She asked me, while I stood in the waiting room with my backpack over my shoulder, and my “puke”-stained sweatshirt in a plastic bag. I looked at Michael and he nodded his head.

“Uh, yeah, she’s working and so is my dad,” I looked at Michael for the follow-up. He pointed at himself. “Could my friend here Michael just drop me off?” Michael grinned.

“I guess that’d be fine. You both never get into trouble, you’ll be okay.” She smiled. “Don’t get detention again. I’ll let Mrs. Ritter know to change your detentions to Monday.” Miss Smith joked.

Michael led me out the door, opening and closing it behind me. “Holy shit, that was awesome. You’re really smart.” I laughed, as we walked to his car.

“Where are we going, though?” I questioned, buckling myself into his black Corrolla.

“Well, it’s,” he turned the keys into the ignition and waited for the blue digital letters on the radio to appear. “2:15, so it’ll be a ten minute drive to my house, so we can just hang there until the time schooled to be over, I’ll drop you off, no one will know what happened. Simple.”

“I see.” I responded, with a nervous laugh. I was hanging out with someone really attractive, with really good music taste, who has their own car, and got me out of detention(for now). How could this get much better?

The next few minutes were silent, but not awkward. The local rock station was on, but neither of us had seem to recognize the song.

Unexpectedly, Michael swerved harshly to the right into Wendy’s. “Jesus fucking Christ, Michael!”

“I’m sorry! We have to go here.” He replied, pulling up to the speaker in the Drive-Thru. I only heard the muffle of the worker speaking. “Yeah, we’ll take two Junior Chocolate Frostys.”

“That’s why we have to go here?” I laughed, while he pulled up to the next window.

“Of course.” He replied handing the girl two dollars. “You like Frostys, right?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Exactly!” He agreed, taking the two Frostys from the girl’s hands. “Thank you.” He replied to her, handing me a Frosty.

“Thanks for buying me one.” I thanked him, setting my Frosty in the second cup holder. Surprisingly, his house had been only across the street in the housing development.

He pulled up into the driveway, unbuckling and grabbing his keys from the ignition and his Frosty. I mimicked his actions, following behind him and up onto the stairs as he unlocked his house. I missed the third step and tumbled backwards, my Frosty splattering across the concrete, and onto me. “God damnit!” I yelled, sitting up, as Michael ran down to me.

“Christ (Y/N),” He pulled me up, holding my forearms. “Are you okay?”

“I guess.” I sighed. “I knew something’d go wrong.” I forced a smile.

“Oh, (Y/N), come in, I’ll get you some fresh clothes, wait here.” He said, jogging up the staircase to his bedroom.

I took the time to look around at the photos hanging in his dining room, which was the first room to enter in his house. You can tell from the photos he has no siblings. The one photo is him with black hair with a teal blue stripe, and his arms are wrapped around his happy, smiling mother. I don’t see any pictures of a dad, so I assume his dad has abandoned him, or maybe died.

The one photo right next to that struck to me the most. In this picture, the bottom left corner is dated 2014, and his hair is lavender. There’s four boys in the picture, one with black hair, one with shaggy brown hair, and another attractive boy with a lip ring and blonde hair, and they all have their arms around each other’s shoulders.

I can also tell from all of the photos on his wall that he’s dyed his hair a lot.

“Oh, those are my best friends.” Michael said from behind me, and I gasped and turned around to face him. I hadn’t even heard him come down the stairs. “Here, you can go change in the bathroom over there.” He said, pointing me in the direction of it.

I locked the bathroom door behind me, then looked at myself in the mirror. I’d been covered in chocolate ice cream, but luckily my hair remained only touched slightly by it. I was wearing a sweater and jeans, so my skin remained unaffected. Unfortunately, my Vans had been caked in it, but I’d wash them when I returned home.

I slipped off my jeans and slid into the baggy black sweatpants Michael gave me. Luckily they had a drawstring, so they fit around my waist accordingly. Next, I slid on the shirt he gave me.

It was a My Chemical Romance shirt.

I left my Frosty-covered clothes in the bathtub, as Michael mentioned I could just leave them there.

“Nice shirt you gave me.” I commented, walking out of the bathroom. I watched Michael eye me up and down before gulping. I recognized that form of behavior, as I had practiced it all the time. He was anxious. Was it about me? He eyed me up but did that mean anything?

He took a spoonful of Frosty. “I thought you’d like it. Let’s go up to my room, I have a bluetooth radio in there.” He went up the stairs and I scurried behind him. Since his legs were very long compared to my stubby ones, he made it up into his room before I did.

Once I arrived to his room which was only shortly after him, he was on his iPhone. I sat down on his bed, which his bed was surprisingly made, and everything was tidy. Seems unusual for a teenage boy.

He put down his phone and adjusted the volume, and I immediately recognized what we were listening to. It was Vampire Money by My Chem.

“How about you, Mikey?” I said, repeating the line from the beginning of the song, as he sat down next to me.

“Fuckin’ ready.” He stared at me, and bit his lower lip. I felt my heart rate increase.

“Well I think I’m alright.” I responded.
My body felt like it was on fire.

“May I kiss you?”

I swallowed. “Um, but…I’ve…I’ve…never…yes.” I spat out.

“Oh, (Y/N), Michael tucked my hair behind my ear. Instinctively, my eyes fluttered shut, as he leaned in.

"3-2-1, we came to fuck,” Gerard sang, as Michael’s lips touched mine.

The way his kiss felt was indescribable. It was almost as if there was an electricity flow between our lips. I followed Michael’s lead, moving my lips against his. We both came back up for breath. His pupils were widely dilated, as his forehead was pressed against mine. “Tell me if we go too far.” He muttered against me. I nodded.

He pecked my lips once more before peppering kisses from my chin down to my jawline, and down along random places along my neck. I locked my fingers into his hair, enjoying how good it felt. Once his lips made it to the middle of my collarbones, I let out an involuntary soft moan, and I was surprised and a little embarrased of myself.

He came back up to my face level, nothing but lust and desire in his eyes. “You are so fucking beautiful, (Y/N).” He murmured. “Can I take these off? He said, referring to my clothes. “Please.” I said back.

He gently pulled my shirt over my head, now leaving my torso half-exposed. “Fuck.” He bit his lip again. He gently laid me back, my lower legs hanging over the edge. I lifted up my hips and he slid the sweatpants down onto the floor. He then stripped off his tight skinny jeans, kicking off his combat boots as well.

I became more nervous at this point. I knew about sex, after all the internet does exist. But, I was still unsure of what to expect next. Michael quickly stripped his shirt off, and I looked up at him in awe. His body was perfect in an odd way. He didn’t have rock hard abs, but I still admired it.

I could feel a rush down to my core, as Michael hovered over me. “What do you want me to do?” He seductively asked, I could feel his hot breath.

“T-Touch me.” I muttered in an almost-whisper.

Although it wasn’t specific, he knelt down at the edge of the bed, grasping my thighs and scooting me closer with him.

He began by kissing up my left leg, slowly spreading kisses up to my thighs. “Michael,” I moaned, wanting him to do more.

His hot breath fanned over my pussy, making another rush of wetness come to my core. At last, he hooked his fingers in my underwear, and slid them down, discarding them with the rest of my clothing.

He placed my thighs around his neck, and looked up at me for final assurance. I nodded vigorously in anticipation.

“Babe, you’re soaking wet. We’ve only just started.” He murmured.

I bit my lip. “Please, Michael.”

Deliberately after my plead, I felt the pad of his tongue press against my slit. I let out the mixture between a moan and a gasp. It was a foreign but amazing feeling. His tongue darted around my opening, then up to my clit, gently licking it. “Oh, Michael.” I moaned, grasping the locks of his hair tightly. He responded positively, and moaned against me, and I felt the vibrations course through my center.

“Michael, I-I’m gonna–” I warned
him, but his tongue then plunged into my center, rapidly moving, and his hand came up to my clit, and he looked up at me.

I began to buck my hips against him, trying to get the most pressure on my core as possible. He rubbed my clit even faster, and I felt myself climax while in a state of pure euphoria.

I then relaxed down on the bed, breathing heavily out of exhaustion. Michael then stood up and my mouth gaped open at the sight.

His dick was fully erect in his black boxers.

He laid down on the bed, next to me. “What’s wrong?” He looked at me in slight horror.

“Your…” I trailed off, pointing at his bulge. “Do you want me to…?”

“You don’t have to…” He trailed off.

“I want to.” I reached down into his boxers, and grabbed ahold of his stiff dick. I began to move my hand up and down his shaft, my face a mere inch from his, as I watched him sigh in pleasure, his eyes hooded.

“Faster, please.” He moaned. He was in his most vunerable state yet, and I was the one making him feel like this. I began to pump him faster, and gripping slighly harder.

“Fuck!” He almost yelled, and I felt him twitch within my hand. “I’m gonna come.” He grunted, now coated in perspiration. I was now sliding my hand down his cock even faster, and I felt another twitch and his cum spurted straight up in his underwear. Iand out of his underwear.

After he recovered from his climax, he spoke; “Oh my god, no one’s ever made me come that hard and fast.” He bit his lip.

I blushed, unsure of what to say. I’m Not Okay was playing in the background, as we both laid there. “(Y/N)?” He sat up.

“Yeah?” I responded, sitting up with him.

“I…” He had trouble searching for the right words. “I don’t want this to be a one time thing. Would you like to… maybe do something a little more romantic, like a date? OK, (Y/N), would you be interested in pursuing this relationship and go out on a date with me?”

“I’d very much like that.” I smiled. “Are you counting detention on Monday as a date?”

Unsteady

Happy Lowman imagine based on the song “Unsteady” by the X Ambassadors. 

Trigger warning: Drug abuse. 

Originally posted by ugh-fuckoff

Originally posted by oreilysamcro

Of course you knew Happy Lowman.

He was a big legend back in Tacoma, where you’ve lived your whole life. You worked as a dancer/waitress in the most famous local strip bar “Benny’s Bunnies”;  The visits from the local SAMTAC were usual, it was like Benny and SAMTAC being almost like a big family. You were close to the whole MC, and the whole MC was close to you. Like you said, a big family.

Happy Lowman was the most interesting men you’ve ever seen in your entire life. Big Bad Biker, loving son, loving nephew; Scary man. His tattoos all over his body, his raspy manly voice whenever he asked you for another round of pure whiskey and his strong frame made you go nuts, but his tender heart and the look on his face whenever he talked about his mother melted your lust away. 

You were thinking about him, while snorting blow up your nose, leaned against the bathroom of your work mirror, your skimpy work uniform being lifted up to your stomach, being taken from behind by a dirty old dealer, running his filthy hands up your sides and moaning on your ear. You threw your head back, as you felt his cum on the low of your back, too lost in your own cocaine extasis to even take notice of it. 

You were a drug addict since you were 14 years old. The streets were rough and cold and some days, the only thing that helped you through was some cocaine and some H. You cleaned yourself, pulled your skirt down and fixed your hair, stumbling outside the bathroom, the dealer following behind, spanking your ass as he left. 

You could see your boss staring at you, crossed arms, an unbelievable look on her face. You looked down, watching the blood pour out of your nose and into your fantasy nurse uniform. 

“Go get cleaned up.” She whispered as she walked past you. “I don’t want you around looking like this. Come back tomorrow.” You sighed. Another day off for you, you guessed. You turned around, aiming to get your jacket but stumbled across a broad chest, making you almost fall, if it wasnt for a pair of strong arms that stopped it. 

“Really?” Someone asked, looking at the blood on your nose. The raspy voice you already knew and the whiskey and weed smell that you longed on your body made you stare up at the one and only Tacoma killer holding you in his arms. “Really, (Y/N)?” You sighed and hanged your head low. You were in love with this guy and out of all people, you didn’t want him to see you like that. 

He lead you outside of the bar and walked you over to your house, making sure you got there safe and sound. You were silent the whole way up there and only speaked when you groaned, for you could not open the door with your keys.

“Let me.” He whispered, taking the keys from you and opening the door. You looked at him, oily cinnamon skin, covered in tattoos, cold stare. The man was all you wanted. You put your hand on the back of his neck, cupping it and biting your lip, watching him close his eyes in pleasure for a moment. 

He grabbed your hand, putting it down and looking at you, as the dawn emerged; Pink, yellow and orange filling up the sky. 

“Kiss me.”

He shook his head, cleaning the blood from your nose. “Don’t kill yourself this way.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, tears starting to fall off your eyes.

“Hap…”

“(Y/N)…” he whispered, shaking his head. “Get cleaned up, close your doors and sleep it off…” He said walking away from you and on to his bike. You frowned, feeling humiliated and  confused. You banged your door shut and cried yourself to sleep that night.

In the next few months, Happy was nowhere to be seen. He wasn’t at the clubhouse, he wasn’t at the bar and he wasn’t at his mother’s. You found yourself missing him everyday, even if you weren’t anything; he always acted quite protective around you, and you missed that. You dunked yourself in even more cocaine and a bit of heroine, feeling so lost without him; You were lost without Happy Lowman.

That’s why your sister called him the day you almost overdosed.

Two hours after the call, Happy’s bike was in front of your apartment, helmet in his hand as he walked over to your sister, waiting for him on the door step. 

“Thank you for coming.” She said as he nodded, watching the inside of your house, the crime scene. They were puke stains on the carpet, clothes all over the place, dirty dishes and mainly dirt all around. “We just came back from the hospital, i didn’t had time to clean up.” She said.

“On what?” Happy groaned as he stepped in. 

“Cocaine, new brand.”

“Stupid bitch.” He muttered under his breath. Your sister nodded, showing him the way over to your bedroom while he silently followed. A few steps and he was inside of your room, watching you fast asleep on the bed, covered up to your nose, sweating like a pig. Your hair was a mess, and your face was pale, the bags under your eyes were big and deep and your lips were chapped and faded. He sighed and nodded at your sister, meaning he was good on his own. 

He walked over to your bed, watching all the bruises in your arm and legs, how unhealthy you looked and how, yet, beautiful you looked to him. He put a strand of your thin hair behind your ear and sit down on the bed, waiting for you to wake up. 

Which you did a few seconds later staring back into his eyes. Fluttering your eyes open, trying to take in who was in front of you. Your pupils were still as big as grapes and your mouth tasted like a NY sidewalk. You fixed your hair and pulled your oversize sweatshirt up, avoiding you to practically flash Happy. 

You had nothing to said, except the last words you heard Dr. Montez say.

“I’m a bit unsteady” You repeated. He nodded. 

“I brought you weed. Gemma Teller said it will help you.” 

 You bit your lip, trying to hold your tears in but it was impossible. You leaned your forehead on Happy’s bicep and cried your soul out, sobbing and yelling, feeling all the bottled up things coming out for once. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, i don’t want to be like this…I just…” You looked at your bruised forearms and gulped. “I don’t do well without you” you said in between sobs as your face went red. He shook his head and caressed your hair, getting up. Panic was set in your eyes, but you calmed down when you saw him walk around the room. grabbing a chair and placing his kutte on it, removing his boots as well and crawling into bed with you. He quietly wrapped his tattooed arms around you and, even if you knew how many men those hands killed, you didn’t cared, for you felt save inside of them. 

“This coke shit ends right now. I don’t want you getting hurt.” You nodded against his lap. “You’re better than that.” 

“Am i?” You sniffed and cleaned your swollen eyes. “Because you know what they said.” sniff. sniff. “Once a junkie, always a junkie.” You felt his hands starting to caress your hair. 

“Fuck what they say. From now on…” he looked down at you. “If someone’s got a problem with you, they talk to me first.” You looked up at him, staring at his hard face and unbreakable temper. You nodded slowly; Then you knew you were his. You addiction, your recovery, your rehab, your pale face, your sidewalk mouth, the heroine shot bruises on your arm, your body, heart and soul belonged to Happy Lowman. 

He stayed there the rest of the night, holding you into his arms, taking care of you, making sure you were drinking enough water and shaking every panic attack away. You still didn’t kissed him, he didn’t tried to cup a feel. He still didn’t  touched you in a personal, close, relationship-esque way, but you knew…

Damn, you knew…

As unsteady as you were, you belonged. 

Teenage Drug Dealer Name Generator

January: shit
February: pizza
March: pebble
April: turd
May: skeeter
June: pube
July: dick
August: pee
September: fart
October: beer
November: ass
December: bitch

1: jizz
2: cum
3: skeet
4: dong
5: fag
6: ass
7: weed
8: punk
9: fart
10: fuck
11: drool
12: anus
13: fairy
14: gym sock
15: ugly
16: gay
17: homo
18: sweat
19: booger
20: nut
21: doobie
22: cop
23: snot
24: puke
25: armpit
26: stain
27: stench
28: dank
29: taint
30: pee
31: turd

Revenge Gerard x Reader
Gerard’s POV (May be a little triggering and sad so………..)
————————–
I never want her to leave me.
Being able to hear her voice makes me over joyed
Even though we are miles away we still chat over Skype.
I want to Skype her all day. I want to be able to see her face and touch it.
I want to kiss her adorable little face and cuddle all day and eat pancakes.
“Gerard I need to go.” “Please don’t leave.” I feel my eyes swelling, this happens every time she leaves. “Gee honey, it’s 12:23 AM, I’m really tired.” “O-okay.” She logs off. I go over to the couch and cuddle up in a ball. I softly fell asleep. 
_____________________Next morning_____________________
I fell the warm sun hit my eyes. I groan loudly, knowing Frank was trying to get me up. “Gee come on, you need to get up.” I rub my eyes and look at the clock, 6:15 AM.
I groan again, hoping he gets the hint and leaves. “GERARD.WAKE.THE.FUCK.UP!” He yells. Why doesn’t he get the hint I want to be left alone? “Please…..leave….I’m not in the mood nor the shape.” I throw my pillow, that was lying right next to me, at his face. “Well, you need food and something to hydrate you, so get up.” I can almost see him rolling his eyes. “I want alcohol, pills, and a cigarette.” I mumble quietly. “What?” Franks asks. “I said I want pancakes, milk and syrup.” I say as I nuzzle deeper into the pillow. “We’re out of Pancake mix and syrup, since you feel sick I will be nice enough to get them at the store.” Frank says. I silently cheer when he says he’s leaving. “m'kay” I mumble. I hear him leave. I get up out of my bunk and head towards the kitchen. I look for cigarettes and booze. I open the fridge and grab the last beer. I also grab Frank’s cigarettes.

Y/N’s point of view

I always feel bad when I need to leave. I get so worried for him, I don’t want him to take anything too far, he’s had an alcohol problem for a long time. I pack up my stuff and get in my car. I put the “Three cheers for sweet revenge” CD in and I drive to where he was touring. I wanted to surprise him for a while but I never got the chance. I had Frank join in on the surprise. I told him to get a cake and fake cigarette candles to go with it, or real ones, it really doesn’t matter, as long as he’s happy. I drive to the hot topic and get him skinny jeans, knowing he is running out of them. I also get myself son MCR shirts and a Harley Quinn shirt.

I get back in the car and get a call from Gerard. “Yes honey?” “Heyyyy baby.” I could hear him slurring and crying, he’s drunk. “What are you doing?” I miss you so much, do you even love me?“ "Of course I do what are you saying?” “NO YOUR FUCKING LYING! YOUR CHEATING ON ME I CAN HEAR IT!’” “No that’s my car.” “SO YOUR DRIVING HOME FROM FUCKING HIM HUH?!” I start to feel tears prickling at my eyes. “No I would ne-” “DONT FUCKING LIE TO ME. YOU DON’T MISS ME. YOUVE ALWAYS HATED ME!” “Honey don’t yell, please don’t.” “IM DONE!” *click* I stare at my phone knowing what happened, and knowing what’s going to happen if I don’t act fast. I speed dial Frank. “Yea?” “Its Gee, he thinks I’m cheating, he’s drunk, I’m pretty sure he’s stoned or something, but he called me then hung up, I’m worried-” “Calm down, I’m almost back.” he hung up. I start up the car and drive as fast as I can.

Frank POV

Holy shit. I knew Gerard has a tendency to take things far, but I didn’t know this far. By the time I arrive at the bus, I’m happy I arrived at the time I did. “GERARD!’ he turns around with blood shot eyes and a gun. Good job Frank, always bringing the gun for other shit. "Drop the gun” “Why she’s cheating on me.” his hand on the trigger. “Gerard, your drunk, she would never do that. Your everything to her, and she’s everything to you. Don’t do this.” I slowly grab the gun and lower it. “Come on, your filthy, lets clean you up.” I say. “I don’t want to take a shower with you gay ass.” I roll my eyes. “Do you want your brother to clean you up?” I say holding him as he puked. “Fine, just once.” “Get into swimming trunks or something after I wash your hair.”

>Time Skip<

*Knock Knock*

I sigh while trying to keep Gerard still in the bath, him splashing around like a 3 year old. “One second Gee.” I run towards the door. I open it seeing Y/N with tear streaks. She hugs me, I hug back being a gentleman. “Is he okay?” “yea I’m just getting him cleaned up.” “Is he still drunk.” “its worn off a little, go get cleaned up yourself, it wont take that long to set up the table. I got a tux for Gee if you want.” “No the last thing you need is to clean a puke and food stained tux, also it will be a pain to get him in” she says.

<Time Skip Again>

Gerard’s POV

I’m so confused., where did these new skinny jeans come from. There nice, and woman’s cut. I walk out the door of my bathroom and I see a pretty lady sitting down at a table. Her face looking down. She looks up at me, that’s when I notice its Y/N. In front of her is a black cake with a red ribbon, with cigarette candles. It looked perfect. I sat down near her in the booth. I look at her. “I’m so sorry….I love you.” I kiss her cheek. I see her glowing smile. Almost in sloe motion she looks at me and kisses my lips. I wrap my arms around her. this goes on for a minute, then she pulls away. “I love you too, I would never cheat on a perfect man like you.”

(A/N *hides under blankets* please don’t kill me for making you sad. *guns shoot at blanket* I swear I’ll do better just please don’t kill me. sorry for making this sad.)

Don’t Judge Me!
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“Are you looking at me? What exactly are you looking at me for?

Are you judging me?

Are you looking at my disheveled hair?

Or my dress which seems more like a pillow cover than a wearable?

Or the blob of puke stain right in the front where perhaps there was a nice sequin once?

Or the fact that my eyes are puffed up, and you think it’s a lot of drink?

Or maybe that I’ve become too cantankerous and can’t stand the highfalutin stories of your achievements?

Or because the other day I told you how much I want to get five free undisturbed minutes to myself?

Or that I just want to stare at the nothingness outside and feel the nothingness inside of me?

Or maybe I just wanted to sleep one night?

Or have I been too impulsive when I also told you that I’m loving my life to bits just the minute after crying?

Or the fact that sometimes I cry when nobody is around because I need a friend to talk to?

Or maybe I feel that I can still hold clouds in my hands but they always slip away?

Or when I held my newborn and hugged him, and also told you how much the little one had taken my sleep away?

Or have I been too sweet to you one minute only to be angry in the other?

Well, judge me not.

Look at me. Give me your hand.

Feel me.’

So said she. The new mom.

To her mirror.

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Don’t Judge Me! was originally published in Fiction Hub on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.



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anonymous asked:

Can I request?? Please?? Jungkook getting drunk and spilling all of his deep dark evil maknae thoughts to jimin

“Well, I’m going to hit the sheets,” Taehyung suddenly says, standing up from his spot on the wooden floor of their dorm’s living room. He stretches his now-stiff arms and shakes his legs. “Goodnight.”

“Wait, Taehyung, no,” Jimin says, panicked. He wants to grab onto the younger’s wrist and pull him back down to the floor, but his current position prevents him from doing so.

Jungkook’s head is resting on the space between Jimin’s crossed legs, and the maknae is giggling so much as his fingers reach for the older’s chin.

 “I need to sleep for a long day of practice tomorrow,” Taehyung justifies himself, but everyone and their dog knows that the boy just wants to leave him alone with Jungkook.

“I need sleep, too!”

“But, unlike me, you’re actually good at dancing,” the younger says, now waving at Jimin with a sly smirk. “Ta-ta for now.  Don’t have too much fun!”

“By the way,” Taehyung suddenly says. “It would be such a shame if, you know, Jungkook was a bit drunk.”

Jimin wants nothing more but to throw an empty bottle at Taehyung, because everyone knows Jungkook is more than wasted as they speak. He’s so wasted that calling him wasted is an understatement.

Keep reading

Of waifs
I’ve fallen. I’ve fallen so deep. (halp) Based on these headcanons: /post/106833975966 and /post/106860171223 ————————————————————————————————————————- The bond was being tugged.  Alcor knew right away who was tugging at it, and knew that Mabel’s soul hadn’t been very long in this world, so she was probably still a baby. Yes, the clumsy, feeling-coated tug of distress on their bond pointed to that. Hunger and Cold and Not Like seemed to serenade from it. She’d probably woken up hungry, and kicked her blanket off in her distress. It wouldn’t be the first life she did that. And yet…there was something that nagged him, that told him to go to her, because Mizar needed him— And well, Dipper didn’t have any important summon tugging at him at the moment, so there was no pain in checking on her. Just in case. Still, he wasn’t prepared for the view that greeted him. —————- It wasn’t right. The place wasn’t the inside of a warm, cozy home; wasn’t the inside of a nursery filled by baby toys and little anti-demon protections that had become so popular in the last century. There wasn’t a tired parent cooing to his crying sister and trying to rock her back to sleep, still unaware of her hunger. There wasn’t anything of that. Instead, Alcor found himself appearing on the side of an abandoned road, the clear sky night as telling as his omniscience about how devoid of any close human settlement the place was. And yet, he could hear his twin’s cries, could hear her shrieking in distress— He blipped in front of his sister, and looked at the tiny thing lying on the floor with an odd sense of detachment. The baby’s clothes were dirty, almost more than the blanket that covered her, and there were traces of puke and old stains that hadn’t been washed. Her little face was dirty as well, dirty and red with irritated skin, and the tugs he’d felt before then and what he’d thought was probably a little allergy to the family’s washing powder suddenly became much clearer. And Alcor wä͙̞̣͎̳͙̓̀̄ͯ͐sͤ̂̈́ͩ̏ͯ͡͞҉̼̼̱̩ ̵̠͓͖̓͋͋ͧ͠a̷̰͓͔͍̝̖̻ͤ͋̍ͬ̽͢n̛̮̺͓̮̑̆͂̈́ͬ͆̌̍̚͠ͅg̛͙̭̮͖̭͍͊̿̽̋̔̌͊̈́r̞̜̣͍̼̻̘̈̑ͩ̍̓ỳ̰͔̬͙̻̹͆ͫͭͨ̈̚̚.̫̳̥͔͓͎͐̾ͬͬ͛ͯ͞ How dared they, how could they, those stupid humans, those despicable rats, meat sacks useful for little more than a short and amusing distraction that thought themselves the pinnacle of the world, how had they dared t̞͎̬̗̪̭͕̐͌͂̈́̉o̸̦̥̮͐͛̎ͥ͆́̈́̓͠ ̼̜̥̮̇͑̓͗́ͩͦa̡̳̰͎̙͉̅ͬ͆̋ͥ̆̂̾́ͅb̬͚̱̫̱͕̭̗̽̇̾̏͗͐ͪ̈́͝ȁ̤͎̕ͅn̵̴̲̠̅͗̓ͬ͊̓͜d̛̺̖̝̣̖̔ͣ̏ͯ̔̈̀̚ȍ̷̜̼̺̖͉̺̞̞͔́ͫͭ́n̳͎̱̹̲͓̖̻̥͒ ̨͔̊̔ͬ̆ͫ̔̑̀̀ẖ͓̠͔͇͍̎͗̀ͭͯ̂̈́í̅̾ͭͪ̂͛ͬͭ҉̡̙̮̪̩̥̞̻͘ͅṡ̵̉̾͑ͫ̾̔́̕ͅ ̶͚̠̪͔̱͇͓͐̃̓ͦͨͭͣ̐̽̀͡t̶̨͍͚͍̭̥͔̟͕ͯ͂̉͛̔ͥẇ̗̬̝̠̘͇̏ͨ͑͌̐̑͛ͧ̕͞i͓̦͎̖͇͕̻͓͙̇ͫ͑̔͜n̮̭ͥ̐̎̃̏ͨ̑ͩ̀͝ ̢̼̣̗̗ͥ͐̃͛̿̅͟͡ͅs̵͇̺̰̥̤̭̪ͭ̂͑̿ͪ͌ͪͣťͥͣ̂̽͑̿̿͏҉̯͕͙͇͈̜ā͍̙ͬ̋ͦ̆̽̈́r͐͋̌̌̈̋ͤ͊͏̵҉͙̞̫̖̠͎?̢̥͔̩̳̔̎̅̓͆ͪ͞!̾ͩͨͨ́͌ͪ͏̷͔̘ Piercing screams broke through his fury, the distressed tug to his bond reminding him where he was, and Dipper felt his black and gold form bleed away as he touched the ground for the first time, immediately going to his knees to scope the little bundle in his arms, mindlessly letting out a torrent of calming words he still remembered using on his niblets when they were awakened by nightmares. “Sssh, my star, it’s okay, I’m here, Dipper is here, everything is going to be alright, okay?” he mumbled, gently rocking the little child as he made a check up on her with his free hand, almost mindlessly guiding his demonic energy to fix the smaller health problems, like her rashes and little cuts from where her too-long nails had scratched her skin. His demonic side kept silent, to Dipper’s numb surprise, but then Mizar was hishis twin, and this babe didn’t even have the mental faculties to be able to make a deal yet. “Alcor is here, Mizar, Alcor is here,” he cooed, cleaning her tear-stained cheek with a clawed finger and automatically cleaning the rest of her face until only soft, dark baby skin was left. “I’m not letting you go, sis.” Mabel’s cries slowly calmed down, the baby finally falling back asleep in the cocoon of magic and warmth, and Dipper didn’t need to look at their bond to know that the little baby’s feelings were purring Happy and Warm and Safe. She would still be hungry when she woke up, and her undernourishment would have to be taken care of, but for now she was well, and happy, and asleep. Dipper needed to visit his newest brand of niblings. And, in that vein, Alcor had to firmly remind himself that ripping Mabel’s parents’ souls out was not in his ‘To Do List’, no matter what his instincts said, and that it was a Bad Idea. Probably. Maybe. Anyway, he would find a family for his sister and if, and only if, she later asked him to when she’s grown up (not even made a fucking deal, she would only need to ask), then he would happily rip them piece to piece and bring her their still beating hearts as a present. If. (The battle against his demonic side’s blood-lust would be an uphill one once Dipper was made aware that the little baby girl hadn’t been vaccinated even once in her four months of life.)
Creepypasta #173: You Are What You Eat

I was never a bad person. I never got into trouble when I went to school. I was an above-average student and because of that, I usually got picked on a lot. But even then I didn’t have the guts to fight back, I just told my teachers or my parents in a cowardly way. I was shy but I never hurt anyone.

At least not deliberately.

I had two major problems that started happening to me at an early age and have stayed with me all my life: sleepwalking and hunger attacks.

I wasn´t the zombie-like sleepwalker who only walks around and does nothing else. I had a mutation on my sleepwalker gene that made me look just like a normal person. The only difference is that I was never conscious. I could see, ear, smell, taste, feel and run, basically I could do almost everything but I never got direct control over my actions.

I also wasn’t a fat kid, I actually was pretty slim. But these hunger attacks weren’t your average “eat an entire cake” attacks. Whenever I got these, I would literally eat half of the food in my fridge. Even though my stomach volume was nowhere near the amount of food that I ate, I would always find space in it, even if a lot of times it felt like exploding inside me.

And the most strange one, as if I wasn’t weird enough already, my previous two problems always happened together.

This is why I was very dangerous to the people around me. Most of the time I was harmless. I got up in the middle of the night, went to the fridge, ate most of its contents and went back to sleep.

But the most intense times happened after big parties or holidays.

When there wasn’t enough food in the fridge.

Now, I never remembered what I did while sleepwalking, so I can only base myself on my parent’s words, but essentially, this is what happened after last Christmas.

They heard me getting up and going downstairs to the kitchen in the middle of the night. They were already used to this so they did nothing and let me go on my nocturnal business.

Next, they heard the fridge door open and close a few minutes later. That was strange because I usually took a long time eating, since I require a lot of food.

After that they heard me coming upstairs, assuming I was going to sleep, but I didn’t.

I was headed towards their room.

When I opened their door, they turned on the lights and asked me what I was doing. When I didn’t answer they figured I was still sleepwalking, so my father got near me trying to direct me towards my bedroom, hoping I would go to sleep.

But since there wasn´t enough food in the fridge to satisfy my hunger, there was only one other option.

My parents.

My mother said I attacked my father and bit him in the arm. They both screamed and my mother called 911, while my father was wrestling me to make me stop. He managed to wake me up by punching me in the stomach, making me puke the little food and flesh I had eaten. When the ambulance came, both me and my father went to the hospital. After those events my parents decided to always keep the fridge full, to help me cope with my problems.

But eventually, as I grew older, these events started to happen less and less often. I got out of school, moved out of town, got a nice job in an office and a big apartment. Life was actually pretty great, and it got even better when I met Stacey at my work. She was an intern there for a year and everyone grew accustomed to her presence, me in particular. After the internship ended she started working there and our feelings for each other grew stronger until one night at a bar she told me she loved me.

I instantly told her the same thing. She giggled and kissed me.

We continued to go out in secret, since our company didn’t approve when workers had “inappropriate relationships”.

A few months later, she asked me if she could go live with me in my apartment, and I said yes. I had a big apartment and sometimes I felt a bit lonely. We eventually talked about having a baby, and because we both worked and had saved quite a bit of money, we went for it.

Nine months later, our little daughter was born, but unfortunately, our company found out and fired us both. They knew about the baby situation and gave us some more money to help us.

But we couldn’t find a job anywhere and soon, almost all of our money was gone.

We could only go on for a few more weeks, and the money for food was getting thinner and thinner each that passed.

I told Stacey about my “situation”, I figured she would understand me, and at the moment I didn’t get an episode for more than five months. I told her that if I started acting funny at night, she needed to punch me in the stomach. I thought everything was going to be okay.

God, how wrong I was.

I had spoken to my parents about the problems with the money, and they asked if we wanted to move to their house, so they could help us. I said yes and wanted to stay only for three more days in the apartment just to pack and clean everything.

We went to bed early so we could start packing our things in the morning.

When I awoke, I saw that Stacey wasn’t in the bed with me. I yelled for her, but I got no response. The place was in dead silence. I noticed three things when I got out of bed. The puke stained carpet and that I felt full. And I mean really full. Like if my stomach had grown five times its original size.

The other thing I noticed was dried blood on my hands. But I didn’t had any wounds, so it couldn’t have been my blood. Confused, I went to the bathroom and was shocked to also see dried blood on my mouth.

I knew another episode happened, but couldn’t exactly tell what I did.

I checked my cell phone for the hours. It was 11:00 am. There was also a message from Stacey dating three days ago. I started reading it as I explored the rest of the house.

“I’m at the hospital right now, you had another attack in the night. I heard you get up and go to the kitchen, eat a little, and return a bit after. But when you entered the room you just stood there, motionless. I asked you what’s wrong, but you didn’t answer. You stood there for a few more minutes and then you jumped at me. You went for my left arm and you bit it like a rabid dog. I immediately remembered what you told me before, about the sleepwalking, so I managed to punch you in the stomach with my free hand. You puked and fell asleep on the ground. I called 911 and they took me to the hospital to treat me. When you see this, please get the baby and come see me.”

My heart sank when I saw the last line. The message was from three days ago. I slept three nights in a row.

With no food in the fridge.

Credits to: jpvl1

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