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#<3 them
zukkaonthebrain · 5 months
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my favorite thing abt being a multishipper is ignoring the canon ships :3
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wildspringday · 6 months
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courtney barnett & sharon van etten via instagram
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The turnabout academy gang deserves everything tbh. Sometimes friendship is a guy who is forklift certified, the loudest girl you will ever meet, weirdgirl who lives in a box, and a sunflower child (Also I am officially a dual destinies apologist)
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whump-town · 2 years
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Just now realized Hotch’s “you gave me your resume on pink stationery” was in response to Garcia saying “I lost my marbles out there” so what he was really saying was girl, they been gone, you didn’t have them when I hired you and I love that they're so cute
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kanene-yaaay · 4 months
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Cuddle Time
Kanene's notes: This was supposed to just be posted tomorrow but I got too excited dfghjhgfgh. I am extremaly weak for any fanfic with cuddles and Guapoduo so I decided to get one of my favorite tropes and add some giggly fluff to it. Hope you like!
Warnings: This is a tickle fic. There's a lot of swearing. But besides that, this is purely fluff with a pinch of angsty thoughts that are barely there before going away. Ler!Roier and Ticklish!Cellbit. Around 2.500 words. My spanish is still something I'm trying to improve so pls forgive any grammar mistakes.
[~*~]
Roier was on his lap. 
This was a common occurrence, nowadays. Still, it made Cellbit’s heartbeat in a samba rhythm before calming down to a song of safety and happiness every time he thought about it. Feelings which only increased as Roier kept idly playing with his hair and massaging his scalp.
Technically, he knew exactly what his husband was doing. He used the same technique every time the detective got too lost in his enigmas, trying to claw and rip his way into the Federation’s secrets so they could have a tiny chance to escape from this island. First he would come to his office (not the one in Order Theoritas, but the old one because he kept forgetting to move the computer to the new building) and call him to go home, one, two, even three times before giving up and following one of the three usual routes: 
1) Going away and doing whatever project he had in mind - usually with Richarlyson, - ending up in their Castle to sleep when he was over.
2) Staying on the coach nearby and sing while going through his albums, both the one with their investigations or the other with their daily lives, pulling Cellbit’s attention from time to time to remember some lost memory while showing him a fun picture of Cellbit’s first day in the island or Foolish shooting Slime in their wedding.
3) Deciding to make this the perfect opportunity to have his own quality cuddle time with his husband. This route usually brought plenty of other options that could consist in: Choosing to drap himself on the other’s shoulders and play with his free hand, talking about any and everything or just keeping the soft silence between them. Or giving him a massage, not without chuckling and throwing pokes of fun in a teasy tune about how the other would absolutely melt with the touch and pretend that he wasn’t fighting to keep his eyes open. 
Sometimes, like this one, he would simply sit on his lap and rest his face on the creek of his neck, smiling half amused and half fondly about how Cellbit wouldn’t even comment or blink when he decided to do that, just open his arms and then keep writing or typing when he was comfortable on the new position.
The brazilian couldn’t actually point with precise exaction when each route was chosen every time, especially since others factors played in this like his husband’s feelings, Forever and Felps coming with Roier to help him to pull him out of the dark places of his mind after a bad day of working for the Federation or when Richarlyson would be around, wanting to spend time with him and Cellbit would be too much of a butter heart to actually deny his son anything under the Sun. 
(He was doing all of this for them after all.)
Even when he thought he had finally come to find a pattern in Roier’s choices, his love would just come with a new route or decision that would totally throw him off the track and oblige him to reorganize all his thoughts. 
But it was okay. He didn’t mind being wrong in this at all. Actually, it was like a domestic, nice puzzle that Cellbit could spend the rest of their lives trying to solve and he just couldn’t wait for when this would be his only worry.
He only was certain on one thing: most of the time Roier preferred to keep the third option for when Cellbit spent too much time on his books and forgot to keep up with simple human things like day and night, sleep schedules and eating. Cellbit was actually grateful that, even so, his husband would still keep trying to quietly convince him to let go of his enigmas with soft touches, some jokes, distracting kisses and complaints until the other finally caved and went home with him than Roier actively coming and physically pulling him out of his chair to rest. 
Even if the idea of being carried in his strong arms, toned with muscles and strength, would sometimes make his brain and face fry, both knew that his investigation was way too important and his mind too set in find a solution for him to try to rest even when papers and books and photos weren’t in front of him. This action would just make both of their frustration grow when his thoughts wouldn’t just shut off and Roier wouldn't get to rest as well.
So, they played this game. 
Roier pretended that each one of his moves were just him enjoying some quality time with his husband and not a plan to lovely break his resolve bit by bit until he went to eat and sleep and Cellbit pretended that he wasn’t, piece by piece, archiving a few good leads to follow on the next days and finishing his thoughts with the ones he already had in hand as yawns crept their way up his throat with each minute of the snuggle.
Right now the mexican was rubbing his back, changing from feeling the goosebumps following his fingertips when they lightly traced the skin to listening to his small (barely even audibles if he wasn’t so close) appreciative hums when he firmly pressed his thumbs in circles on his shoulders, following the path to his neck and going back before re-starting his circle.
(...)
It’s been a couple of hours since Roier first appeared and demanded cuddles - determined to make his husband get out of his office this night after spending the last three days there, - until he finally stopped listening to the typing of his computer. He turned his head from its resting place on the other’s shoulders, watching as Cellbit pinched the bridge of his nose with a tired, frustrated expression on his face.
Trying to know anything about their current prison was a painfully slow and exhausting process. It was no news to watch the shadows under his husband’s eyes get darker and darker as each answer brought other 4 new questions. Sometimes, Cellbit would confess in the sleepless nights, he came out of his investigations feeling much emptier than when he started, sensing his hope starting to give out to desperation.
And how could Roier let him shimmer in those thoughts under his supervision?
He turned around and kissed his chin, hands slowly creeping up to his sides, laying there for comfort and warmth as Cellbit twitched instinctively, sighed and opened a tiny smile at the other, letting his hand fall on Roier’s arm and rubbing circles there, still staring at the computer.
“Terminó? (Did you finish?) Did you already…” he then began typing idly on the back of the chair, pretending to be the detective “....hacked la Federacion?” (the Federation?)
“Uh hm, uh hum.” Cellbit immediately jumped on his silliness, also typing quickly and senselessly on his computer before doing a lower, grave voice full of glitching. “I’m in.”
“Apoco si, pendejo.” (Sure, stupid.)
“É verdade, é verdade. It’s true. I called a boat to come get us all of this, it must be getting close.” 
“Si, si. Ya están en Vergiça, cabrón.” (Yes, yes. They’re already got on Dickland, idiot.)
“Oh, did you find them when you went there?”
“En portugués, Cellbit, en portugués.” (In portuguese, Cellbit, in portuguese.)
The brazilian let out a fond snicker, rolling his eyes, trying but not succeeding to hide how much happy it made him that the other was making a true effort to learn his language just as much as he tried to learn spanish.
“Ok, ok. Você encontrou com eles quando foi pra lá?”
“No, no, no. No pude ir porqué (I couldn’t go because) mi pepee is very small.”
Cellbit couldn’t stop the crackle that was fished from his throat at this, hand lightly hitting his tabletop and coming to hide his eyes, losing their battle of keeping a serious face as the conversation grew more and more foolish and they went deeper and deeper in the joke.
Roier smiled. He missed hearing that freeing sound. Even though Cellbit got much more relaxed and happy around him, it was easier to see that, since Jaiden’s mission in that giant dungeon, he had been much more stressed and on edge. 
That is why he couldn’t help but immediately reflect the joy in his husband’s face as his laughter took turns in being totally quiet or having high pitched sounds. It was adorable.
Also, it gave him a very good idea.
He absently adjusted his hold on the other’s waist, glad that his smirk was hidden due their position.
“Que te ries, cabrón, eh? Que te ries?” (What are you laughing at, huh, idiot? What are you laughing at?)  He threw the bait, already knowing what the other would say.
“Nothing, nothing.” Suddenly a squeal filled the room, which might or not be related with Roier choosing this exact time to rhythmically squeeze his sides, going up and down on the tickle spot quickly and skillfully, counting that the surprise attack and fast scribbling of his fingers would be enough to not allow the other to turn the tables before he could enjoy at least a good amount of Cellbit’s cute laughter. “Guapito!”
“Huh? Que dije, gatinho? No hablo inglés, sorry, sorry.” (Huh? What did you say, gatinho? I don’t speak english, sorry, sorry.)
“Pendejo!” He tried to grab his wrists, but with a swift movement Roier caught one of his hands and intertwined their fingers, pulling his arm up and then having no obstacles to attack his unprotected armpit with all the scratches and pokes that he knew that would make the detective completely lose any trace of coherent thought. 
Cellbit threw his head backwards with a short ‘eee’ sound, silent laughter ringing in the air for a few seconds before he tried to become a ball of protection, squeaks and yelps falling like a waterfall from his lips as his hand went from trying to hide his smile to pushing the tickling away.
“Awww, no mames, wey. Cellbit you’re so ticklish, man. You’re ticklish everywhere.”
As if to prove what he was saying, Roier began spidering his fingers anywhere his fingers could reach, prodding the space between his ribs, scribbling on his sides, squeezing his hips, tracing his neck all while watching the other’s laughter descend in a string of high pitched giggling that made his cheeks burn and eyes gleam in mirth. 
“Literally ticklish everywhere. A ver, a ver: Boom” (Look at this, look at this) 
A poke on his armpit and another squeal shot through the room, more of them following as he kept poking his entire torso randomly, drinking on the gigantic smile on Cellbit’s face. “See? Very, very ticklish. Boom. Boom. Boom.”
“Não, sem cócegas, sem cócegas!” (No, no tickling, no tickling!) His voice was breathless, the words barely understandable with all the giggles.
Roier adjusted himself to a sitting position on his lap, letting go of his arm so both of his hands would be free. Cellbit latched on his wrists but didn’t actually push him away.
“Oh no,” He gasped dramatically, making his voice in a deep tune of despair that he knew sounded ridiculous enough to increase the foolishness of all of this, both of his hands following Cellbit’s torso around when it instinctively tried to squirm away from his hold, digging on any tickle spot available before happily jumping to another, no matter how much the detective tried to wiggle away or cull in protection. “Las cosquillas, Cellbit! Las cosquillas te encontraron, nooo! Ya no puedo salvarlo, és muy tarde.” (The tickles, Cellbit! The tickles found you, nooo! I can no longer save you, it’s too late)
Roier then added a few grunting sounds as he made an entire show of fighting his own hands, throwing himself from one side to another and swearing before finally stopping his attack. He felt a bit silly in doing all that but seeing the blush crept in Cellbit’s neck and how his snickers still danced joyfully in the air for the next few minutes even after he ceased his attack, he felt proud.
The brazilian tried for a third time to open his eyes - black and glinting with a playful mirth and a few unshed tears - and endured exactly two entire seconds of looking at Roier before his chuckling grew anew. Roier couldn’t help but laugh with him.
“Se murió, noo. Estás completamente muerto.” (He died, noo. He is completely dead.)
Cellbit weakly punched his shoulder, his own still bouncing with the leftover laughter.
“Callate, estúpido!” (Shut up, stupid!)
“Eh? Estúpido?” Roier didn’t wait not a single second before clawing on his stomach, sniggering malefically at the surprised crackling that exploded from the other, his hand hitting the tabletop. “Ya está, ya está. Ya no voy más a dejarte ir. Grosseirinho. Gatinho grosseirinho” (Enough, enough. I’m not letting you go, now. Rude. Rude gatinho)
“Desculpa, desculpa.” (I’m sorry, i’m sorry)
“Nah, nah, nah. Con esa boquita me besas?” (Do you kiss me with that mouth?)
With a bolt of strength Cellbit adjusted his hold and pulled the other forward, making him lose his balance and fall on his chest. He lost no time before capturing his lips in a kiss, immediately making Roier’s brain stop and his entire body freeze before melting on his chest, the tickle attack coming to halt, totally forgotten.
They spent a few moments like this before breaking apart. 
“Si, con esa boquita te beso.” (Yes, I kiss you with that mouth.) Cellbit replied, satisfied in taking the other’s teasy grin right out his lips.
Roier, ignoring how hot his cheeks felt, snickered at how proud and playful the other’s smirk was, especially when Cellbit didn’t try even the slightest bit to hide how smug he felt since, even with a rushed plan created while he was laughing his ass off, he knew his husband well enough to know exactly what to do to stop his thoughts and attacks immediately. 
It wasn’t easy to catch the flirty fighter out of guard but it was worth it every single time.
Still, Roier just couldn’t help himself but tease his love just a tiny little bit more.
“Nah, pinche beso sin fueza. (Nah, what a fucking weak kiss) One more, one more.” 
He then lowered his head, pretending to go for another kiss before quickly changing his direction and planting a raspberry on the other’s neck, quickly following it with another and another and a fourth one before losing the battle against his own crackles and resting his forehead on Cellbit’s shoulder, still not believing in the honest to god shriek that came out of the other’s mouth, more laughing quickly following it.
Cellbit sweared at him and lightly pushed his arm, but both just let themselves calm down from the adrenaline and the high in a melody of increasingly quieter giggles.
“How did you say cosquillas in portuguese? Co… consewhat?”
“Nah, nah, nah. I’m not teaching you that.”
“Come on, man!”
Cellbit squeezed his side, making him jump with a yelp and get out of the chair while he was quick to follow, standing on his feet and stretching with a yawn. A worryingly number of cracks followed that action and that made Roier relax, knowing his husband would be too tired to get any revenge now. It was almost 4 am, afterall.
“Outro dia te conto. Vamos, pendejo,” (I will tell you another day. Let’s go, idiot) the detective turned off the computer and held his hand out, giving Roier’s one a tender kiss when he immediately answered the gesture before intertwining their fingers. Roier could feel a bolt of electricity and warmth travel his entire body at that “Let’s go to the castle. I will finish the rest of my work tomorrow.”
Roier kissed his cheek and pulled his warpstone, smiling. “I will follow you, gatinho.”
No matter what or where, he really would.
Cellbit smiled, pulled his own warpstone, starting to disappear in sparkles of purple. “I will wait, guapito.”
And, for forever, that is also true.
They slept relaxed and in peace that night.
[~*~]
Random fun fact: Forever and Felps are the only ones capable of making Cellbit stop working for very different reasons: Forever because he also has a thick skull and can and WILL spend the entire night complaining about the fact that Cellbit isn’t getting out of his office and how HE is already bored for being in his office and even calling Richas and Roier to try to help him. While Felps is because the logic and serious part of his brain automatically shut off everytime his best friend is around and usually they get lost talking about semantics and philosophy and random questions like what can and can not be considered a soup.
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themeridian · 3 months
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substitute teachers that let you use your phone in class>>>>>>>>>
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mazeppafanart · 1 year
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Remember Sonic Boom’s "Tails'Crush" guys???
well I imagined the next part...it’s Eggman who’s helped by Tails now!
And Tails is a really good matchmaker ^^
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latenightsleeper · 11 months
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Tank and Christian need each other to have a good nights rest—like they actually need to hold the other in their arms to wake up in a good mood. It started randomly when they were younger, teenagers, and for reasons I won’t explain rn—Tank started to stay over at Christian’s more and more which in turn made them get used to his room and his bed since even when they said they could sleep on the bed he’d bug them until Tank joined him on the bed.
Chrissy would say it was because “ you won’t be a bitch in the morning “ but he honestly felt bad they couldn’t sleep on the couch bc it wasn’t like he was gonna tell his parents he was having a sleep over, especially with the kid he was starting shit with every other day. It was awkward as hell, being smushed on this twin sized bed since it was all they could afford with Tank now pilled on it. But oddly, even if he or Tank wanted to say otherwise, it was kinda..comforting in a way neither of them had felt in a while.
As they both got older and it happened more and more, sometimes it was Tank hosting Chrissy or Chrissy hosting Tank but soon they just started to…keep on doing it even if there wasn’t anything going down. Both Tank and Christian got good at climbing in and out of windows thanks to this, it kinda became a ritual for the two of them.
After school or when they’d get off their part time jobs when they are teen, they’d go to the others house if they knew they would be home and just haul themselves up. Knocking in the window in the rhythmic tapping before slipping in.
This kept up even to adulthood, till of course Tank got involved with Quinn and they started to do it less and less. Tank just not wanting Quinn to meet Christian, something in them just screaming at the thought of it really till the attack happened and they skipped town.
It started to happen again after a while, now Tank and Chrissy sleep better now.
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ramenthievery · 4 months
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An old resting spot
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bkwormkate · 1 year
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Foyle’s War S01E03 - A Lesson in Murder by Anthony Horowitz
Celebrating twenty years of Foyle’s War 🍾
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roetrolls · 1 year
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After The Storm (Post-Icarus Drabble)
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“You don’t have to do that, you know.”
Sonny sits down beside you and sets the plate in your lap, beaming like someone who didn’t just narrowly escape their worst nightmare mere days ago. 
“I know.”
She starts in on her own breakfast without a care in the world, and you feel your face contort in confusion. 
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“Very true!”
She’s like a different person without that cloud of doom hanging over her head.
The plate is warm. You pry your eyes away to stare at it, considering for a half a second whether she might have poisoned it before you dismiss the thought entirely. Talk about a leap. Very Zerkev of you.
How embarrassing.
“You can just tell me if you don’t want it,” she says, sliding a fork from between her lips. “I won’t be offended.”
“What? No, shut up, I’m obviously gonna eat it.”
She smiles to herself, face somehow a perfect balance of innocent and smug. You brave a bite. Not bad.
"Weeeell~?"
You raise a hand in front of your mouth, not patient enough to finish chewing, but at least having the decency to hide the view. "Well what?"
"Compliment my cooking!"
You snort at that, egg threatening to invade your nose. "What?" You grin, finally swallowing. "You're not even gonna ask if I actually like it?"
"I know you like it! I'm an excellent chef." She straightens her shoulders and lifts her chin, fins flaring with pride.
"Oh yeah? And what if I say it's terrible?"
"Then you're being contrarian. Clearly."
“Alright, well. Now I can’t win,” you huff, loading another bite onto your fork. “You’re right either way.”
She shrugs. “Just something you pick up working with kids. Perks of being a teacher.”
The conversation lulls while you eat, both you and Sonny pausing to continue your meals. You didn’t think anything of it at first, but it’s just dawned on you how strange it is for her to be joining you like this.
“Did you not eat with your own… I don’t know what you guys are, a squad?”
“I wanted to eat with you.”
“Right… Is this some sort of trauma response?” You gesture at her with a splayed hand, leaning away slightly. “Attaching yourself to me just cause I got you out or something? Cause I’ve seen how Mahkir acts with some of the guys around here and I am not ready to be a father.”
It’s a joke, but you genuinely don’t understand why she’s choosing to spend time with you over literally anyone else in this town. It’s not even the first time.
“I just… Think you deserve to have a friend here.” She smiles at you again, this one somehow warmer than the last. “You did a good thing. You shouldn’t feel like you’re being punished for it.”
You frown, searching her face for any hidden motivation or meaning. It just seems too straightforward. Too mundane.
“You wanted nothing to do with me, like, a week ago.”
“And then you showed me I was wrong about you.”
It takes you a second to recover from that one. Wrong about you? The concept is so foreign it’s almost humiliating.
You’re not the kind of person that people change their minds about. At least, not like this. If someone starts seeing you in a new light, it’s because you dropped a damn facade. Because you quit pretending to be a decent fucking guy. Because you showed them your true colors.
You showed Sonny the kind of person you were from the start. And she thinks she got something wrong? How are you meant to respond to that?
“You sure about that?” You finally jest, mouth twitching into some half-hearted attempt at a grin.
Her expression remains genuine, not a hint of humor in her eyes. “Yeah. I’m sure.”
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wildspringday · 1 year
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harry dean stanton, nastassja kinski, & wim wenders on the set of paris, texas via mubiitalia 
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shoutlikethewolf · 2 years
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goldenguillotines · 1 year
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🍸 for venus retrograde? :)
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->But can money really buy happiness?
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kanene-yaaay · 1 year
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Me: You know what. I think that we should explore more the tickling potential of supernatural powers on Mob Pyscho 100.
Also me, writing another fic for the fandom: *does not do that*
(anyway tk headcanons on the tags because I refuse to take these thoughts to my grave SDFGHJUKIJHG)
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anarchylover · 2 years
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thought i'd try my hand at @simplepotatofarmer 's dtiys :>
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