- the floor phil caught the bug on is the floor in dan’s room. phil claims it was his room but newsflash: they share a room
“what if the bug ran into dan’s room”
im not even kidding I had someone try and argue this on twitter. but are you honestly trying to tell me that a centipede managed to make it’s way out of phil’s room, up a staircase, and into dan’s room without phil catching it? no matter how bad phil may be at catching bugs, I’m sure he would have caught it by then
“how do we know that’s dan’s floor”
well, the floor in phil’s room is white, and no, that’s not a rug. plus, the floor in lounge/office is a different color. while yes, dan’s mirror pics were most likely taken in his room, that’s when there was a lot of natural light, meaning it was during the day. dan stated that the lights in his room were different from every other one in the house, they give off a yellow/orangish glow. that is what makes his floor appear this color, and his room is the ONLY one in the apartment like that.
- phil’s shoes on dan’s shoe rack
“but what if he just left them in there”
‘yeah because I store my shoes in my friends room and enjoy having to go upstairs every time I want to wear them.’ it’s simply illogical
- phil’s mirror in dan’s room
“but what if he just gave dan his mirror”
for no reason? show me the new and better mirror phil got in his room, or any mirror at all, wait, there isnt one
- phils room is a closet
“but we havent seen all of it”
not technically, but, we’ve seen enough to be able to accurately estimate the size of it, which just so happens to be 1/10th the size of dans room. there’s no way that phil would have the tiniest room, while dan has the huge master bedroom
id also like to add that this is obviously why we havent gotten a single sleepless night video from the new apartment. because if phil did, he would’t be able to do anything except lay in bed, or else he’d expose them
a/n: oh god, schools been killing me - about one coffee away from a nervous breakdown, so sorry for not being as active. here’s a gift, i love you!
synopsis: a love sick fool - a love sick, lust sick puppy dog Shawn is. He’s gonna call you, nothing like drunk calling your ex.
warnings: nsfw.- slight smut at one part
“Crawling back to you Ever thought of calling when you’ve had a few? ‘Cause I always do Maybe I’m too busy being yours to fall for somebody new Now I’ve thought it through” - arctic monkeys, do i wanna know?
Five obscure Victorian or Gothic novels that no one ever talks about and you think need to be better known?
I need to delve a lot more into the early Anne Radcliffe era of gothic novels. If any of my followers can rec stuff from that period (@atundratoadstool , @chthonic-cassandra , anyone?) then I will take them as recommendations as well! Heck, recommend gothics from any historical period that I’ve overlooked and I’ll try to read them!
In no particular order…
The Beetle. There’s a whole host of messy sexual and racial issues to unpack here, but it’s Dracula with bugs and one of the heroes is basically Doctor Doom and it’s just about peak gothic weirdness.
A Long Fatal Love Chase. This one starts as a pulpy melodrama, then abruptly pulls the rug from under you and is a serious, terrifying portrayal of an abusive relationship where the villain and the heroine do love each other but it just doesn’t matter because he’s still tormenting her. And nobody will get out of it alive.
Speaking of which, Louisa May Alcott’s short gothic stories in general are worth seeking out, especially Perilous Play, which was the inspiration for own story Affable Stoner Jonathan Harker. There are a couple of collections out there, only one of which I’ve gotten ahold of, but I’m still trying!
Israel Rank: The Autobiography of a Criminal was the basis for two popular adaptations (Kind Hearts and Coronets and A Gentleman’s Guide to Love and Murder) but is itself fairly obscure. It’s a lot darker and nastier than the derivative works, but if I had my way the titular antihero would stand beside Dorian Grey and Lord Ruthven as one of the sickest, most compelling awful men in gothic fiction. (Yes, I named my Fallen London character after him. She’s going to be his great aunt.)
I’m not sure it really counts as obscure, but I’m going to include La Morte Amoureuse anyway. It’s a sad, sexy vampire story from before sad, sexy vampires were the common denominator, and it’s a shame there haven’t been any adaptations (to my knowledge.)
What I Learned About IDW Transformers Characters From Tumblr
- smol jock - a fukboi - jerk that means well - self-esteem issues - wants Optimus-Sempai to notice him - only notices him when he’s been Bad - so Sempai put him on the Punishment Boat - looks cool - (acts like he) thinks he’s cool - isn’t cool - irresponsible - Drifts BFF - co-captain - is a bad co-captain
- Voldemort - noms sparks - has an Uber Deluxe spark - portal guts???? - how does that work??? - u stab him and then ur knife’s in China??????? - secret nerd - lame poetry - said fuck the police - the police beat him up - so he turned TEH EVUL - and beat up the world - so the world’s sorta not alive anymore - wasn’t quite the goal but w/e - v STRONG - and now he’s an Autobot?????????? - now he’s not so strong because the Autobots gave him Bad Juice - co-captain - gun
- it’s da…. THERAPY MAN - “hey rang” - “hey run” - “hey rag” - “hey ran” - “hey reng” - “hey rug” - “hey rong” - “hey ring” - “hey rign” - is a saint - cute - dad friend - giANT NERD - likes model ships - a d o r a b l e - polite as fuck - would be a good boyfriend - and a good dad - or just a good friend - how in fucks name do people forget him - he’s so fuCKIN nICE DUdE - I WANT A HUG FROM HIM - AND I WANT HIM AS MY THERAPIST - I FEEL LIKE HE WOULD NEVER JUDGE ME - smol luv bug - useless alt mode - TONS OF POCKETS - functionists are the worst dude i agree
- a Good Man - has Suffered - tired and grumpy - slaps people with wrenches - a bit mean - but as i said - a Good Man - “DOCTOR DOCTOR” - “what is it >:(” - “WHATS THIS STRANGE WART ON MY AFT?” - “a physical manifestation of your stupidity” - needs a break - but work never sleeps - has seen too many dead people - BFFs with Optimus
- LEADER OF CYBERTRON - THATS MORE THAN YOU EXPECTED, ISNT IT? - THATS WAY BETTER THAN JUST “Leader Of The Decepticons” - A+ JOB DUDE - DIDNT EXPECT THIS MUCH!! - I happy for you pal!!! - huh, what’s that? - ur seeing dead people? - um… - have u talked to Rung about that? - no? - I’ll set up an appointment…. - *whispers* yikes…. he’s got some issues….
- smol bean - cute - pure - but he lies sometimes - fell in a fucking hole and was stuck for like 10000000000000 years - poor kid - said he works in bomb disposal - he doesnt - kid please - stay away from bombs - you don’t need to impress people - you’re impressive already :) - is roommates with Mr. Grumpy Skeleton Face - Grumpy Skeleton Face no likey - at first - now they are totes in love and have tons of gay sex - tons - so don’t mess with baby face here or you’re in for a beating
- grump - understandable since he’s in an alternate universe - and all the people he knew are gone - now he’s stuck with some losers on a ship - but w/e - cause now he has a tiny boyfriend - that’s pretty great - what’s not great is that time he fucked up his face - and broke his horn - shit sucks man - he’s ok now - I think - man who am I kidding - no one in this fucking universe is ‘ok’ - poor saps
It is summer. Outside the inn, the cicadas have quieted and it’s the crickets that take over, white noise, white music, lulling the boys to sleep. The breaths of heavy sleep can be heard alongside the whir of the fan passing over the room. It smells of tatami mats and Kaminari’s feet, one foot poking Bakugou’s upper arm. His snores sound like whines, just irritating enough that Bakugou’s resting face is that of a scowl.
He considers shoving Kaminari, or more likely, kicking him, but that would require moving, and all four limbs are distant from Bakugou, heavy as concrete and unmovable as the komainu guards that stood outside the inn. He should be sleeping. He needs to be sleeping. Tomorrow, the training camp begins.
Still, there’s the expectant air of something about to happen–the moment before a match is lit, a breath held in until lungs burst, a pause of silence between songs. The room is scattered with pillows and blankets from a pillow fight two hours ago, and the room is heavy with a sense of contentment, apparent in the way Tokoyami cocoons himself in his blanket and Midoriya rests a hand on Iida’s chest. Shouji’s arms splayed out wide and Aoyama with his eyemask on.
Bakugou is wired–restless energy from the pillow fight? Fresh, summer air? Or the tension of training camps past, of being stolen away by villains in the dark.
Bakugou sits up, cards his fingers through his hair.
There’s a beat of silence, and then, “You’re awake?”
Todoroki’s voice is barely above a whisper, dream-like and soft, volume concealed by the sound of the fan. A breeze passes over Bakugou, making his hair flutter. Two sleepers over, Todoroki’s hair ruffles, too. He sits up.
“Go to sleep, idiot,” Bakugou hisses. “I’m not staying up.”
“You feel it, too.”
Bakugou holds his breath. He lets out a louder sigh than he intends. Lying back down, he turns his back on Todoroki. “Doesn’t matter. Night.”
The hair on the back of his neck prickles. He hears the telltale sound of a comforter being pushed back and the gentle thumping of movement across the mats.
If I close my eyes and go to sleep, he will go away, Bakugou thinks.
He manages to ignore Todoroki for a grand total of three minutes before he shoves back his own comforter and sits up, teeth pulled away from his gums. “What.”
Todoroki is sitting seiza at the foot of his bed. “You’re awake,” he says.
“‘Cause I can feel you breathing down my neck, shitstick. Take a hike and get out of my bed.”
“We should welcome in summer together,” Todoroki says.
“Do you actually ever listen to people?” Bakugou asks.
“I used to do it with my sister,” he says. “I’m too restless to go to sleep. So are you.”
“I’ll have you know I love sleeping,” Bakugou says. “Get tucked in real fucking tight, snug as bug in his own fucking rug, away from creepy sleep-watchers and their weird-ass ideas.”
“You feel it,” Todoroki says. “Katsuki.”
Bakugou’s breath catches. “I told you not to–even if it’s dire–”
Todoroki holds up one finger, and a tiny flame lights from the end of it. Bakugou flinches. The candlelight reflects in Todoroki’s odd-colored eyes, shiny as glass. It lights a dull glow across molten, scarred skin, bumpy and rough-around-the-edges as the scar’s owner. It casts a shadow across the shape of Todoroki’s mouth, just too close to not-not-smiling to make it hard to look at him.
“Fine,” Bakugou says.
“Repeat after me,” Todoroki says. “Welcome, cicadas.”
“Welcome, cicadas,” Bakugou mutters.
“Welcome–this is so fucking stupid.”
“Just do it.”
A grunt. “Welcome, crickets.”
“Welcome, sunb–you’re fucking with me. You’re actually just fucking with me. Is this even a family tradition?”
Todoroki really smiles now, one edge of his mouth turning up and his eyes crinkling. Bakugou moves his glare from Todoroki’s face to the fire at the tip of his finger.
Suddenly, the light goes out.
“Wh–” Bakugou starts.
“We have to seal it,” Todoroki says. “Seal the welcome.” His voice is much, much softer. Bakugou leans forward a little to catch his words.
“Seal it? How? Wait, why the fuck do I care? It’s bull–” Todoroki’s fingers feather along Bakugou’s jaw and he jerks away upon contact, heart racing. Todoroki’s hands hover in the no man’s land between their bodies for a moment. When he moves forward again, leaning forward on his knees, Bakugou doesn’t move. His fingers settle along Bakugou’s cheekbones, pinkies curling under his chin. The callouses on his fingers make Bakugou’s skin tingle. They’re not soft hands, but the hands of a hero and a hard-worker–someone who poured blood, sweat, and tears into his craft.
Through the moonlight that seeps into the room, Bakugou can make out the smile on Todoroki’s face. “We seal it with a kiss.”
Bakugou’s heart stutters. He scowls. He didn’t remember giving it permission to do that.
He feels Todoroki’s exhale as he breathes out. “Kiss me, Katsuki,” Todoroki says.
Bakugou’s hand has found its way to his shirt, clutching at the material over his chest. He doesn’t remember telling it to do that, either. “This is stupid,” he mutters. “This is stupid, you’re stupid, this whole thing is,” he takes a breath, “fucking stupid.”
Todoroki presses his forehead to Bakugou’s, their noses brushing. “Kiss me, Katsuki,” he says again. And then, “Please.”
Shut up, shut up, shut up, Bakugou thinks, and he pecks Todoroki on the mouth lightning quick.
“There,” he says. “Sealed.”
“Okay,” Todoroki says.
“It’s just for your stupid summer tradition,” Bakugou says. “That’s all.”
“Which is still bullshit, by the way.”
“And it doesn’t mean anything, so don’t go telling Deku about…whatever.”
“And–” Bakugou says, but the words are slipping from his mind because Todoroki’s thumb is on his bottom lip and he can feel the puff of Todoroki’s breath not even an inch from his mouth and Todoroki’s eyes are half-lidded, and it’s all just very warm, and without really giving it much thought, he’s kissing Todoroki.
Todoroki’s fingers are rough but his mouth is soft, none of the sharp words he wields when he picks fights with Bakugou, a choice insult thrown in like a dagger to the side, no, this–this is the smile he wears when he’s helpful to a classmate, the brush of his hair against Bakugou’s palm when he swipes at him while dueling, the press of his cheek on Bakugou’s shoulder when he falls asleep on him on the train.
This is I know you and I have yet to know you and I want to know you, the questioning tilt of Todoroki’s head and the suggestion of tongue. They don’t French but they do kiss, the sound sweet as a cricket’s song when they part. Bakugou thinks he’s in a fever dream, even though the height of summer has yet to arrive and the fan still blows cool air across them every now and then. He feels that if he stops kissing Todoroki he will wake up and it will have never happened.
When Todoroki parts from him, he whispers, “Welcome, summer.”
Summary: (Y/N) and Clay had an intention to finish their project. Would they be successful on doing it?
Word count: 1.270
Posted: 21st of April 2017
A/N: I am so overwhelmed for the feedbacks I am receiving for my previous imagines with Clay and I would like to thank you for the support. I love you as much as I love this cinnamon roll and I am so inspired to write 13 reasons why imagines. Thank you for everything guys and I love you all.
P.S.: My requests for 13 reasons why are OPEN!
- G. x
Warning: (Y/E/C) is Your Eye Colour.
It has been a long and tiring day at school and to top it, you still had some projects to finish with your project buddy and best friend, Clay Jensen.
“Are you tired?” Clay worriedly asked you after he saw you yawning for the hundredth time now. “We can do it some other day, if you want. The due of the project is two weeks from now.”
“No,” You smiled at him as he was so caring and thoughtful. “it’s fine, Clay.”
“Are you sure?” He assured as he parked your bike beside his.
“I am sure, Clay!” You playfully slapped him with your black binders and you rolled your eyes as he was starting to annoy you.
“Alright, alright.” He huffed as he gave up on reassuring you. He then looked at you, pretending to be annoyed because of your actions. “Fine then.”
“Finally,” You were relieved when you both headed to his house’s doorstep. “thank God.”
“What? Finally, we are home or finally, I stopped annoying you?” He raised an eyebrow as he opened the door with his keys.
“Both!” You honestly answered and you both entered the Jensen’s home laughing and guffawing, as if something was really funny about it.
“It seems like you are both happy.” You heard a sweet voice coming from the living room.
“At least, you are honest.” He winked at you but quickly turned his head to the living room as he saw his Mum staring at him. “Oh mum, don’t you have any work for today?”
“I wanted to bring these stuffs at home.” She waved some papers that were in her hands and you noticed Clay shaking his head. You then carefully looked around the house. It was clean and perfectly in order. “(Y/N)?”
“Oh, yup!” Clay smiled a little bit and he pulled you to enter the living room with him. You hated him at that moment since you were somehow shy, of course, but you quickly felt comfortable and at home when you saw his mother smiling.
“Lainie!” You smiled at her and she smiled back at you. You met Clay’s mother during the parents’ meeting at your school. “How are you?”
“I’m stressed for works and for my rebellious son right here.” She pointed at the messy piles of papers on her desk and then at Clay. You just laughed as you saw Clay pouting.
“I can imagine.” You nodded, agreeing for what she has just said. “Clay’s been stressing me too.”
“What?!” Clay looked at you and he pretended to be offended for what you have just confessed. His mum laughed and you flashed him an apologetic smile as he rolled his eyes in response.
“Mum, we’re finishing our assigned project in my room.” Clay then said, turning serious as he changed the topic.
“Sure.” Lainie smiled and you flashed her a sweet smile, before you headed to the stairs with Clay. “(Y/N), does it bother you having dinner with us?”
“Of course not, I would voluntarily join you.” You kindly said and you noticed Clay smiling widely while he stood beside you. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you.” Lainie sympathetically answered and Clay started going upstairs. “Clay?”
“Mum?” He suddenly stopped in the middle of the stair and you almost bumped him.
“Leave your room’s door open.” You giggled at hearing his mum’s reminder.
“Oh my God, Mum!” Clay whined and it made you laugh even more. He continued going upstairs and he led you to his room, leaving the door open like what his mother has reminded him. “Idiot, you are having so much fun here, eh?”
“Oh, shut up Jensen!” You flashed him a death glare as you carelessly plopped your things on his desk. “Shall we start?” Your gaze softened and he flashed you his flat smile, nodding.
“Yup.” He shortly answered and he started to get the materials that you needed to conclude your project.
You both spent the time doing your project, but it didn’t mean that you were serious and deadpan. He kept on doing silly things to make you laugh and to keep you awake. Clay Jensen – that adorable and dorky man that you’ve always liked because he was himself whenever you were with him. Who wouldn’t love him? Everybody would.
“Clay, you are an idiot!” You exclaimed when he poked fun of himself.
“It’s true that you considered me as a nerd when you first met me. Don’t lie.” He ranted as he was trying to cut a piece of paper for the almost finished project.
“It’s not true!” You lied through your teeth. He was right, you really considered him as one of those nerds, one of those good-looking nerds.
“I would kiss you so you would shut your mouth up!” Clay blurted out and your eyes both grew wide. You looked at him putting his scissors and paper down on the floor and he looked straight into your (Y/E/C) orbs.
“Clay?” You stopped yourself from doing anything and you stared at Clay as he bit his red bottom lip. He was shocked too, but he perfectly knew that he couldn’t take his words back anymore.
He created an awkward pace between the two of you, but then you suddenly found yourself closing your eyes and leaning forward, maybe copying Clay’s actions too.
A little moment later, you felt two soft lips on yours and you both slowly deepened the kiss, him constantly pulling your body closer to him. He caressed your cheek as he lingered the taste that your lips allowed and you had your arms wrapped around his neck. You felt some sort of sparks and nervousness, even though you imagined this scene in your head for uncountable times now.
He was about to close the door, but you both heard some footsteps and you suddenly broke the kiss, both scared to be caught.
“Guys, dinner is ready.” You both looked where the deep voice came from and you both nodded, still astonished for the happening between the two of you. Matt, Clay’s father, had a smirk on his face before going back downstairs and you wondered if he saw everything.
“C’mon?” You nodded as your thoughts faded away and you both followed his father. “That was perfect.” You flashed him an embarrassed but happy smile.
“It was.” You agreed as you both entered the dining room. You could bet that you saw Clay blushing and smiling widely, you couldn’t be wrong with that.
When you entered the room, you saw his parents smiling widely and you both got into your places, so you could start having your dinner.
“How’s your project going on?” Lainie has asked with a bright smile on her face. You looked at Clay, giving him the cue that it was his turn to answer.
“Fine, it’s almost finished.” Clay has said as he tried to chew his food slowly.
“Oh, project?” Matt has asked and you noticed Clay widened his eyes. “Your project consists of kissing and cuddling?”
“Dad!” Clay protested and you both became crimson red in your face and you felt a burning sensation in your whole body. You were embarrassed and dumbfounded.
“Congrats!” His parents said in unison and they both laughed as they saw your reaction. Clay then caressed your hand under the table to calm you down and you both laughed together with his parents.
“Another reason why my door should be shut.” Clay jokingly said. “Always.”
“You have a point in there, buddy!” His father agreed and you all laughed as you felt more relaxed, welcomed and snugged as a bug in a rug.
Can you write an one shot with domestic fluff between Saeyoung, Saeran and MC? (And SaeyoungxMC!) I love your writing! :3
Thank you so much! Sorry it took so long, but here you go~ This one-shot may or may not be loosely based on something that happened to me in real life. Hehe…anywho, I hope you enjoy!
Spoilers: Set after Secret Ends
Six spindly legs. That’s what got her cornered behind the bathroom door at 2:36 AM. It wasn’t the fact that it was nearly three inches long with huge black wings. It wasn’t even the ominous droning that buzzed past her ears as it flew. Nope. Those crooked little sticks jutting from the sides of the black insect convinced MC that some mutated experiment got loose from a lab somewhere.
And of course, it had decided to sit exactly five inches away from the doorknob to the bedroom. With trembling fingers, she pulled out her phone. Saeyoung was probably still awake, working in his office. He could help.
MC’s eyes never left the wretched beast as she attempted to press her husband’s number.
“Uh, hello?” said a voice that definitely wasn’t Saeyoung’s.
“Saeran?” she stammered, her gaze still fixated on the bug. Her stomach writhed when it skittered closer to the knob. “Sorry. I was trying to call Saeyoung, and I must’ve dialed your number–”
Her sentence morphed into a shriek as the bug shot past her into the bathroom before returning to it’s place on the bedroom door. MC whimpered and rubbed her ear, the echoes of it’s wings still reverberating through her skull.
“What happened? Where are you?” Saeran demanded. A mixture of embarrassment and guilt flooded her face with heat at his worried tone. Especially since real, life-threatening danger was a reality for them at one point.
“I’m by the bathroom,” she replied, lowering her voice lest she disturb the flying mutation again. “Don’t worry about it. I–”
The line dropped, and the thud of footsteps traveled down the hall. Saeran appeared a few moments later, still in his plain pajama pants and t-shirt. His chest rose and fell rapidly as his eyes darted about the room, as if looking for an intruder. MC felt really horrible now.
“What’s going on?” Saeran asked, finally turning to MC.
She chuckled nervously, gesturing to the door. He followed her gaze, squinting in the dim light. “I don’t see anything.”
He reached out for the light switch before MC could warn him. The bug dashed away from it’s spot and swooped towards Saeran, it’s wings emitting that horrible sound again. What MC didn’t expect was the undignified yelp that came from Saeran’s mouth before he shoved her back and entered the bathroom with her.
Wow i am absolutely in love with the image of Tomlinshaw having to share a bed for some reason and Louis just being absolutely furious about every little thing Nick (who is totally nonchalant) does. Doesn't maintain an even distribution of blanket, shirt rides up to his shoulder blades, breathes audibly in Louis' direction
I LOVE FURIOUS LOUIS. I LOVE HIM.
Imagine Nick and Louis forced to share a bed because Harry had invited them both out to the Alps, to a chalet he’d booked out for his family, and he’d had one room spare so had asked them both. But then they’d both been free, so they turned up and had to share.
Nick didn’t even intend to ski. He was going to ‘scout hot boys and watch other people fall over’. This is the worst excuse for not going skiing ever. Louis is furious.
Nick unpacked all his belongings and lined them all up in the bathroom, neatly, in a row. Louis’s stuff is in a pile on the floor, tumbling out of his suitcase, where they should be. Louis is furious, and plans on using Nick’s toothpaste.
Nick has actual pyjamas. Louis hadn’t anticipated sharing a bed, and had planned on wearing nothing to sleep in because he likes his dick to have a bit of unrestricted freedom once a day. He’s stuck wearing that day’s boxers. Louis is furious.
Nick does things like ‘plug his phone in at night’ and ‘washes his face before bed’. Louis hates that. Why can’t he just fall face first into the pillows like any normal person. Louis is furious.
Nick sleeps on his side, hand tucked under his face, all sort of stubbly and fresh-faced because of his annoying washing-before-bed habits, and every time Louis opens his eyes in the middle of the night it’s to find Nick lying there, facing him, like it’s just OKAY to be in Louis’s face like that all the time. Louis is furious.
Nick makes these sort of adorable snuffly almost-snore-like noises as he sleeps, which is terrible and the worst and Louis has to stop himself kicking Nick in the shin to shut him up. Louis is furious.
Nick wakes up to find Louis plastered to his side and his arm stretched out across Nick’s chest and his dick pressed up against his hip, and Nick allows that shit to continue, and doesn’t roll over over or get out of bed or anything, he just goes the fuck back to sleep, and then has the fucking gall to tell Louis that he “thought Louis needed as much beauty sleep as he could get his hands on”. Louis is furious.
Nick steals ALL the blankets, every single one of them, all of them, to snuggle up like a fucking bug in a rug, just because Louis refused to go to bed at 2am with Nicholas fucking Grimshaw. He’s left having to poke Nick awake and then unroll him like a stupid burrito and deal with Nick’s sleepy snuffle and then him saying didn’t think you wanted to come to bed with me, darling, you made that quite clear. Louis gets the cold spot in bed and stares grumpily at the ceiling. Louis is furious.
Louis goes to bed early the next night and tucks himself up like a very warm thing in a roll of delicious blankets, and is half way to falling asleep when Nick stumbles drunkenly into their room and sprawls on top of him. “You are a very angry man,” Nick says slowly, when Louis tries to bite Nick’s finger. “I don’t know why I fancy you.” He then stumbles drunkenly into their en-suite to dry-heave into the toilet for a while. Louis is furious. He gets Nick a glass of water and resolves to not think about Nick at all for the remainder of their trip.
“Sorry,” Nick says miserably, early the following morning. “I didn’t say anything embarrassing last night, did I?” Louis says no, and is irrationally furious that Nick can’t remember.
“You breathe funny,” Louis says, in the middle of the next night. Do not, Nick says, and bites Louis’s finger. Louis is furious.
“Your pyjamas are all weird,” Louis says, because Nick never appears to move from where he’s sleeping with his nose pressed up against Louis’s shoulder, but every morning without fail, Nick’s pyjama top is all rucked up to his armpits and he’s got his nips on show. It’s not Louis’s fault he keeps staring. Tonight I won’t wear them, how about that, Nick says sleepily, and scratches his belly. Louis is really, really furious.
The next night, Louis kneels over Nick’s chest and tries to show every ounce of his fury on his face. “You said you fancied me,” he says, “then you forgot. I’m well pissed off you forgot.” Nick, to his credit, doesn’t say anything. He runs his hands up Louis’s thighs, and then settles them on his hips.
“Come to bed, love,” Nick says sleepily. “I’ll even kiss you to sleep.” Louis’s furious, but he takes Nick up on his offer anyway.
I wrote most of this a few months back, but I thought I might finish it up and post it for funsies!
“There’s no shotgun on a sofa!”
As Marinette watched her two youngest children sprawl across the couch, Louis obnoxiously taking up as much room as possible and Bridgette primly seating herself atop his head, it was a real effort to keep from crying.
Maybe she was getting soft in her (not old, forty eight was still quite spry) age, but it was always times like these, when they all sat down as a family to talk, that made her remember the earlier days. The days where baby Bridgette was a permanent fixture to her hip and Louis was little more than a streak of blonde hair as he zoomed around the house. The years their house had been filled with not two children but four, each of them unique and talented and an absolutely perfect blend of her and Adrien.
(Don’t get her wrong, Marinette was proud that she’d raised Emma and Hugo to be such self-sufficient young adults, but damn if she didn’t still get a little misty eyed every time she passed their empty bedrooms.)
“Alright settle down,” Marinette began, swatting her son’s feet off the table with practiced ease, “Time for family meeting.”
She cleared her throat.
“Since you two are both teenagers now, your father and I thought it was time to discuss some things with you.”
Two mischievous smiles dropped, shattering on the floor.
“Oh god,” Bridgette breathed, eyes flooding with dread, “Please tell me you aren’t-“
“I got the banana!” Adrien announced as he exited the kitchen, grinning from ear to ear. Louis and Bridgette let loose synchronized shrieks, then transitioned into wailing as Marinette produced a foil square from her pocket.
“Why do you have a condom?” Louis groaned, hands dragging down the sides of his tomato-tinted face. “You two haven’t done that since Bridgette was conceived.” His eyes widened in abject horror. “Right? Oh god please tell me you don’t still…”
He trailed off, silently begging his parents to confirm they were, in fact, on a 16 year chastity streak.
As Adrien plopped down unto the couch next to his wife, the expression he threw his son somehow managed to be both pitying and smug. “You really think we go to bed early every Sunday night because we’re tired?”
The teens let loose another synchronized retch, Bridgette slapping her hand over her ears and Louis spitting a string of curses vulgar enough to earn him a sharp look from sailor Marinette herself.
“Sex is normal and healthy,” she admonished, trying to keep her face passive despite the grin resting on the edge of her lips.
(She could still remember the mortification she’d felt the day her own parents had given her this talk, but found that being on the other end of things was downright funny.)
“Not at your age it isn’t,” Bridgette whined from behind her pillow.
“Yeah,” Louis agreed, “You’ll break a hip.”
“That’s kinnda the goal,” Marinette said beneath a cough, earning two more horrified “Maman!”’s and a fistbumps from her husband.
“That’s it!” Bridgette declared, pushing up from the couch, “I’m flying into the sun.”
Adrien hooked her by the waist, pulling her back down to her seat. “Not before you learn proper condom application you don’t.”
Drawing upon years of being the baby of the family, Bridgette stuck her bottom lip out in that trademark pout, hoping it’d been enough to crack her father’s notoriously weak resolve. “But it’s weeeeeird,” she whined, throwing in the boo-boo eyes for good measure. “Besides, I already know how-“
She shut her mouth so hard her fangs clicked.
Three other mouths hung open.
(Listen, it wasn’t her fault some of the vamp kids she’d met while visiting her grandpas had given her plasma-fruit flavored condoms! It wasn’t her fault Dom had agreed to be her Guinea pig, sweating bullets as she’d lowered her razor-sharp mouth around him! She was a curious girl, okay?! So sue her!)
“And just when did this happen?!” Louis exploded, taking on the role of protective father as Adrien sat dumbstruck across the living room. “Was it that Bourgeois bastard?”
“Don’t you dare talk about my Feli-bug like that!” Bridgette deflected, poking a sharp nail to the center of his chest.
“OOOOO I’m gunna bake Casper the frigid ghost a nice batch of garlic cookies and deliver them on a silver platter!”
“Louis shut up!”
“She… already knows?” Adrien murmured, staring vacantly at the rug. “How… w-why does she already know??”
“Siri?” Louis asked, hoisting his phone high enough to evade his vertically-challenged sister, “Where is the nearest place to get a wooden stake?”
“How old is she?” Adrien’s hands carded through his white-blonde (almost silver) hair. “How old am I???”
A pillow went sailing, followed shortly after by a streak of yellow and black. The banana was smashed on the floor. Alya wandered in from next door, only to walk right back out.
“Mom, control your idiot son!”
“Mom, control your slutty-“
‘She always did have my upper body strength,’ Marinette mused, idly stirring her tea as she watched her daughter bludgeon her son with a couch cushion.
Adrien- who at this point seemed to have moved past his mini-midlife crisis -sprung to his feet, confiscating both pillow and cell phone (“The nearest steakhouse is 3.4 miles away.”) as he hauled his hissing kittens apart.
“No hitting!” he admonished, plopping the world’s first bright red honeybee on one end of the couch. “And no calling your sister- or any Lady!- a slut,” he continued, sticking a rumpled butterfly on the other. “Now sit still and learn, unless you want any unplanned pregnancies in your future.”
“Pssh, yeah right,” Louis scoffed, rolling his eyes as he slumped back into the cushion, “Like that’ll ever happen…”
Five years later, when he found himself sitting on that very same couch with a squirming toddler pinned to his hip, Louis made sure to take notes when his parents produced a second banana.
when mulder and scully are in the south do they go to waffle house or huddle house and at what time
the waffle house index
post-one son/two fathers a/n: i know this wasn’t a fic prompt per se, but here we are.
She caves at the third Waffle House sign they pass on I-95. Her head has been pounding along to their highway rhythm for something like an hour, and she knows Mulder is going to milk every minute of the 48 they’ll have to endure back into the city.
“I don’t know what you have against Waffle House,” Mulder says as they ease off the freeway.
He is bewildered by her objections to most things these days, and it is beginning to lose its naive charm.