but pssst he actually likes it

Fanon Lotor be like

i am not even sorry just take this

anonymous asked:

Pssst. If you're still looking for Timmy prompts, I'm a sucker for sick!Tim. Bonus if he's in "work 'till I drop" mode. And actually collapses before anyone really puts together what's up with him.

I feel like this isn’t quite what you were hoping for, but I tried? Uni is stressing me out a bit at the moment and as a result I’m in a bit of a creative slump so this is a lot shorter than I would have liked and probably terrible but oh well at least it’s finally posted.

Probably set either not too long after Bruce adopts Tim or while his dad is in a coma.

He can hear Tim’s voice arguing with someone when he arrives at the front office, which is reassuring. Or maybe not so much, because Tim tends to get more snappish and argumentative when he’s not alright. Bruce takes a second to school his features into something resembling neutrality - if too much concern leaks through, Tim will either retreat into himself or lash out at him as well, both of which would be counterproductive - without looking disinterested and pushes the door open to step inside. 

Tim’s eyes are wide when they latch onto him, shimmering with frustration that nobody believes his claims that he’s fine. He opens his mouth - presumably to protest being taken home - but the school receptionist gets in first with a relieved, “Mr Wayne, thank you for coming.”

“Of course,“ Bruce says. He sits down next to Tim, looking him over. He doesn’t like what he sees; too pale, dark smudges under his eyes, cheeks tinted pink, a slight squint as he tries to glare past the headache pounding behind his eyes. 

“They told me you passed out. How do you feel?”

Tim lifts a hand to scrub at his eyes, prickling with heat beneath the sheen of exhausted tears he’s trying desperately to keep at bay. "I didn’t pass out,” he protests. “Just got a little dizzy ’s all.”

“That’s not the bit that was a question, Tim,” Bruce says firmly. He catches Tim’s hand and pulls it away from his face, pressing his own knuckles to his cheek to gauge how high his fever is. “And I expect an honest answer.”

Tim huffs, but he leans into Bruce’s touch, eyes closing as he admits in a whisper, “Not fantastic.”

It’s an understatement if Bruce has ever heard one, but it’s better than nothing.

Despite how exhausted he clearly looks, his pulse is racing when Bruce presses two fingers against the point beneath his jaw. Bruce frowns. “How much coffee have you had today?”

“I couldn’t miss school, B.”

“Tim. How many cups?”

“Four? Five? I dunno.” Tim leans a little more heavily against him. “Everything’s… hazy. ’S moving too fast.”

Way too much coffee and not enough sleep then. A bad enough combination on its own, but when he seems to be coming down with something as well…

“Okay. Let’s get you home and into bed.”

Bruce stands up and pulls Tim to his feet as well. The teen sways slightly and Bruce tucks him against his side, an arm around his shoulders for support. “It’s alright, I’ve got you.”

Tim’s eyes are focused on putting one foot in front of the other but he tilts his head enough that Bruce can see a smile playing over his lips. “I know,” he replies quietly, then adds almost to himself, “’S weird being picked up by a parent.”

Bruce’s heart clenches. Tim is clearly out of it, or he’d never let even that small detail about his crappy childhood slip out. He wonders how often Tim battled through school with a fever because nobody was at home to take care of him, or how often he felt a spark of hope when someone was called to pick him up, only for it to be crushed out when it was just one of his many nannies. Tim stumbles going down the front steps of the school and Bruce automatically hugs him a little tighter. He makes a vow to himself, as Tim smiles gratefully, open and lopsided with exhaustion and fever, that he’s going to be here for this kid more than he has been, make sure he knows that he’s loved and wanted no matter what. Starting with taking him home and letting Alfred fuss over him.

rlynudetree  asked:

pssst your drawing with david hugging the camp campbell shirt gave me the head canon that sometimes he puts a pillow in it so he can pretend jaspers still there for him to hug sometimes :3c

this is so sad and i feel like a horrible person, because the only thing my brain allowes me to associate to is a jasper dakimakura and jasp going “what the actual fuck” from beyond the grave

anonymous asked:

Can you do Kandreil getting walked in on by the other Foxes and their reactions? I love your writing! :)

Also: More Kandreil please! Maybe the other Foxes reacting to their relationship? Or them getting together?

And: AHHHH I NEED MORE KANDREIL SHOWER SEXYTIMES!!!!

(pssst if you want more of kandreil getting walked in on, check this post!!)

  • The boys haven’t been going out of their way to hide their relationship, but it’s not like they flaunt it (and the other Foxes are pretty oblivious lbr)
  • In fact, they start to worry because Kevin and Neil seem to be yelling at each other more often than usual.  Matt actually tries to bring it up once (“You don’t have to take his shit, Neil, Exy isn’t that important.  Want me to talk to him??” but Neil is just like “wat??? its??? fine?”
  • (bc we all know he & Kevin use their game-fueled sexual tension as foreplay, exhibits a, b, and c)
  • ANyway, it’s the aftermath of a particularly hard game that ends up getting them caught.  Kevin & Neil are still riding high on the adrenaline from their win, and Andrew is pretending he doesn’t give a fuck but really he’s so turned on by the sight of his bf’s all sweaty and flushed and bright-eyed.  aka it takes like 0 time for the three of them to get down n dirty :) :) :)

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7

Inspired by this post. Here are the points from the post relevant to this comic:

  • Tatsuya Suou’s default name is Terrence. Tatsuya Sudou is Terrance, to keep the similar names.
  • Eikichi’s actual name becomes Michel and he now has red hair. His father owns a restaurant that sells fish dishes instead of sushi.
  • Lisa keeps her name, but she’s now German instead of American.
  • Maya keeps her name, but she’s now latina.
  • Since someone needs to be black, Jun (Johnnatan or John for short) gets the short end of the stick (and by extension, his mother). Not charcoal-black like Mark, but something on Zen’s level. He’s also not a love interest anymore, choosing him is a joke option just like choosing Michel.

(Pssst, gabriulio, I still ship TerrencexJohn too.)

anonymous asked:

I've read a lot of your imagines and ahhhhhh THANK YOU SO MUCH???? but pssst, could you please do first time makeout sess after finding out that they actually do like each other w/ Zenyatta (oh shoot how do you do an omnic), Genji, Lucio?

This turned out a lot more fluffy and a lot less sexy than I planned but I hope it’s still okay :)

Requests are closed.

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Too Many Cooks | closed

@holdinghandsinsnow

Fitz had been best friends with Jemma Simmons for exactly fourteen months, two weeks and five days. He knew the exact timing because she’d told him they were best friends. And he could’ve timed it down to the minute, at least, but it seemed unnecessary. 

He was at a crossroads. How “best friend” of a best friend was he?

The library was empty. Even the student librarian was asleep. Fitz was running on tea and adrenaline and he needed to tell someone or he might explode. 

Bringing his feet down off the table, he waved at Simmons across the daunting three feet separated them and said, “Pssst. Simmons! Pssst. Hey!”

When she looked his way, her expression one of concern for breaking the rules, despite the fact that they were the only humans conscious in the near vicinity. 

“I kissed S—S—someone…” he blurted, not sure yet he was ready to reveal who it was.

He frowned. “How do I know if it was good?”

So far, Simmons was the big winner when it came to dating. She was socially inept, but incredibly attractive. Fitz could make them laugh, but as soon as he got them alone, it all fell down—awkwardly. 

…’Crashed down’ was more like it, actually.

frenchargent  asked:

Prompt for Sterek: "I know that we haven't talked in two years and things ended pretty badly between us but what do you mean that your engaged to be married?!?"

You send me so many wonderful prompts, love, SO HERE. LET ME ACTUALLY WRITE ONE OF THEM. I hope you like it *crosses fingers* (Pssst, I really love your icon <3) Thank you to @crossroadswrite​ for being the most beautiful beta in all the land. DEREK WOULD BE PROUD TO HAVE YOU IN HIS PACK BABY.

“I waited for you, Derek!” Stiles screams, pushing at Derek’s chest. He’s angry. Even after all this time he’s still angry and Derek doesn’t know why that makes him feel better, why it makes him feel happy, but it does. He hates himself for it, but it does. “Do you know how long I fucking waited for you to come back? For you to call? For something? Well, I did. I waited for five fucking years!”

There are tears blurring Stiles’ vision, but he doesn’t blink them away, stubborn as always. Instead, he continues to pound weakly against Derek’s chest. Derek wants to hold him, grab his hands and still him like he used to when Stiles spiralled like this. But he can’t now. He gave up that right when he left.

The last words they said to each other are ones he can’t even remember now, but the memory of Stiles running after him, screaming his name, first angry then broken, still haunts him. Sometimes he wakes up hearing them, phone already in hand to call Stiles before he realises- oh.

“Well, maybe I wasn’t ready to love you, did you ever think about that?” Derek screams back, because he has to. Arguing with Stiles has always been easier, the only time he could ever say anything to Stiles outside of being tangled up with him in the dark. “Did you ever think I needed time because I didn’t want to mess this up?”

Stiles stops at that, blinks. “You told me you didn’t want me.”

Derek winces. “I lied.”

“You told me you didn’t want me.”

“I lied,” he says again.

“YOU TOLD ME YOU DIDN’T WANT ME!!”

“I LIED!!”

“You-” Stiles’ eyes do spill over then, his fingers clenching around Derek’s jacket. “I waited.” He sobs, nose running, body starting to shake like he’s fighting a panic attack.

“I know,” Derek whispers, pulling him close, even though he knows he’s going to have to let go. Forever. “I know.”

Lowering them both to the floor, he cautiously moves his hands away, but Stiles grabs on to them, pulling them back. Stiles doesn’t like people touching him when he’s like this, but for some reason he doesn’t like Derek not touching him.

Derek wonders just how many times Stiles needed him to hold on to and he wasn’t there. The thought makes him sick and he closes his eyes, but he can’t shake it.

You’re my anchor, okay? the words come back to him. He can still see Stiles’ face that day, scared, nervous, and Derek, the idiot he was- is- selfishly let himself hope he could be enough for him just on that. That he could love Stiles the way he deserves to be.

“It’s too late now,” Stiles whispers, no part of it sounding like a question, because yeah. Eyes flicking up, Derek lets himself look back across the room to the little box that had started this whole thing. A phone call that had Derek hoping, praying that maybe- but then, no. A promise of forever to someone else. Someone named Nathan. A second time seeing it doesn’t make him feel any less miserable, even if he wants Stiles to be happy.

He waits until Stiles calms down, for him to finally pull back, eyes clear before he says, “It was always too late.” It’s a lie, but Derek can’t bring himself to say anything else. He can’t bring himself to think about all those nights he lay awake, knowing if he just called they could’ve made it work. That if he wasn’t so fucking afraid of losing Stiles for good he wouldn’t have to lose him.

Looking up slowly, Derek watches as Stiles’ eyes turn angry again. “Don’t…you…ever…say that. Don’t you ever-“

The kiss comes out of nowhere and Derek, because he could never refuse Stiles anything, doesn’t push him away. He doesn’t let himself think about why Stiles is doing it or what will happen when it stops, he only knows he wants. He only knows Stiles is the only person he’s ever felt right with, safe with, since Laura, since family and he can’t run again.

He doesn’t want to run again.

Pushing Stiles down, he cradles his head under his hands as he rolls on top of him, never letting his lips leave his, too scared to face what will happen when they do.

I was stupid, I love you. I was stupid, I love you, I was stupid, I-

“I know,” Stiles gasps, wrapping his legs around Derek’s waist. He doesn’t grind up, he does nothing but scramble at Derek’s back, pulling him closer until-

-until Derek’s nose is buried in his neck and they both breathe a sigh of something neither of them have ever been able to name. Home, Derek thinks. Realises. This is home.

“I hate y-” but Stiles cuts himself off, body sagging, his scent spiking with misery. “I hate that I can’t get over you.”

Derek swallows, the almost words hitting him harder than anything Stiles has ever said before. “No, say it. Say what you were going to say. I- I need to hear it.”

Stiles shakes his head. “No point when it’s a lie.”

“Say it anyway.”

“I hate you.”

And there’s that blip, that sound that makes Derek sob with relief as he buries his face back in Stiles’ neck again and shudder pathetically against him.

Several minutes pass, and Derek lets himself be held like Stiles used to hold him, sinking into him in a way he’s never been able to let himself before, before he hears, “Der?”

“Yes?” Derek whispers, sounding every bit like the small child he doesn’t want to feel like.

“I don’t love him.”

Derek swallows, not sure what to say to that because…what. He doesn’t mean to sigh in relief, doesn’t mean for his breath hitch, or do anything because he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t do a fucking thing, but…

But all he knows is he doesn’t want to let Stiles go. “You deserve to be in love,” he says, eventually. Even if not with me.

Stiles groans. “It’s going to be hell when I end it.”

“When you-” Derek raises his head, heart racing, because no. “Don’t,” he breathes. “Not for me.”

“I’m not doing it for you, you asshole. I’m doing it for me. But-” He looks away, shrugging. “I can’t not…fuck, Der.” He pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I can’t not wait. I’ll always- no matter how old I get, if you leave, I’ll always be-”

“I won’t,” Derek promises, clasping his hands over Stiles’, not sure whether to smile or cry because suddenly his whole world is being handed back to him on a Stiles shaped platter, complete with moles and biting sarcasm and useless information Derek missed so badly he’d taken to reading Wikipedia himself just to fill the void, picking out all the bits Stiles would find interesting and crying because apparently he’s that pathetic. “I love you.”

Stiles’ eyes widen. “That’s the first time you’ve said that to me fully clothed.”

Derek blushes. “It’s never not been true.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, smiles. “Still hate you,” he says, and there’s that blip again.

“I know,” Derek whispers back, not quite able to let himself smile yet, too caught up in looking at Stiles’. “You’re my sun and stars, remember?”

“And you’re the moon of my life?”

Derek nods shy, hoping, and Stiles rolls his eyes again, but his heart beat picks up.

“I never expected to love you, you know,” he says, barely audible.

“But?” Derek asks.

“But I suppose I never expected to love this much either, so…” He shrugs.

“So.”

“Yeah, so.”

@3@ Pssst, Yo... Ralph...

Yo, Wreck-it Ralph! Did you get the news?

They are working finally on another movie of yours =D

YES, They’re already writing the script =D How cool is that?

Actually yes, Rich Moore is involved on it again ^^!

IKR ^^ So excited =D

Well, yeah… That’s what he had planned since the first one, apparently is going to happen @3@!

LOL Stop copying the fandom’s face, dude XD

Oh, it’s the real deal, wreckman… you can count on it ^^! Just like The Rescuers Down Under and the last Winnie The Pooh were =D!

I know, Ralphy… No need to say it; We all feel ya =’D

anonymous asked:

Pssst, Derek Hale prefers his spaghetti cut up into little peices, think about that, let it sink in

THIS IS ADORABLE AND SHOULD BE PROTECTED AT ALL COSTS. 

I actually can’t deal. Imagine though, Stiles cutting up Derek’s spaghetti while the kids are just like slurp slurp slurp with theirs. And they all giggle because Papa HAS TO GET HIS PASTA CUT UP. And Stiles looking sternly at them and saying Papa can have his pasta any way he wants because he deserves all the nice things. And Derek just rolling his eyes but smiling shyly and them maybe sticking his tongue out at the kids for good measure because hey, Stiles cuts up his pasta for him and it’s just the nicest thing really. Like, if someone had told him ten years ago he would have an amazing husband who not only loved him but cared about him to the point where he CUT UP FUCKING PASTA FOR HIM he would have laughed in their face. Possibly would have wanted to punch them because, really, that kind of talk would just have been cruel. 

Yet, here he is. Happy. In love. With a family of his own. And couldn’t want for anything more.