my dad doom

7

I havn’t even finished the first episode and I know this is going to be awesome. 

DOOM

anonymous asked:

It was just a dream you're alright, carla and stan mystery dads au before she leaves him for thistle

“Stan? why are you up?” Carla pushed herself up into a sitting position, her husband was sitting on the edge of the bed as if he was about to leave.

“Oh uh, nothin’ just a bad dream,” Stan answered as he stood up, he was rubbing his neck and his eyes were looking over to the side away from her. “I was just gonna get a glass of water.”

Carla narrowed her eyes, she’d recognize those tells anywhere. The dream must of been about her. She flipped the blanket open and patted the spot That Stan had vacated, “Hop back in bed love, tell me about it.”

Stan dragged his feet back to the bed and sat down. Carla covered him back up, but he still sat stiffly and avoided eye contact with her. “I uh, dreamt you’d kicked me outta the apartment. You uh, you didn’t want me around the baby,” he looked away after he finished explaining, as if he was afraid his dream would come true after voicing it aloud.

“It was just a dream Stanley, It’s alright,” Carla put a hand on the side of Stan’s face so that he would look her in the eye. 

Stan laid his face on her shoulder, and rested a hand on her growing bump. “I. know babe. I just, sometimes I worry you’re gonna realize what a loser I am and come to yer senses”

 “Stan I recognized how much of a dork you were after spending five minutes with you,” Carla smirked as he looked back up at her. “ That’s why a fell for ya love, you know I’m too savvy to marry someone I don’t care about.”

Stan smiled and bumped his forehead against hers, “Yeah, suppose that’s true.”

Mr. Hemmings (Luke Hemmings Smut)

Requested? Nope.

Smut! The title warned you enough I hope.

Luke/reader ([y/n] [y/l/n] is ‘your name, your last name’)

It’s the moment of truth for me and the other students in my Math class. We’d be getting our latest math tests back, the hardest one of the year. I’d studied for six hours for it and I felt fairly confident coming in. Once I finished, I thought I’d at least get a low B, a C at worst. 

I was apparently very wrong.

“Not so great, [Y/N].” Mr. Hemmings shakes his head, finally setting my test on my desk, displaying a big fat 52% in red, a thick circle around it making it more obvious of how much of a failure I am. My mouth fell open at the horrible mark, not exactly expecting to get such a bad grade.

Keep reading