#Ler!Pac

[kanene-yaaay]

Secrets and the Pros and Cons of Not Running Away

Kanene's notes: I will receive no constructive criticism on this, I saw a character that just keeps being destroyed over and over because he loves and cares too much and since mah bros on that island only SUFFER, I *WILL* take the matters onto my own hands and give them all the tickles and fluff thank you so much for understanding.

Anyway, the Happy Pills Arc is my absolute fave until now, and this animatic is my new obsession. It doesn't has anything to do with the fic, really, but I think it deserves more love drtyuiklkjhg.

Warnings: This is a tickle fanfic. It has hurt/comfort, fluff and some angsty thoughts, but nothing too dark. It happens after the Happy Pills stuff and doesn't follow the canon timeline. Ticklish!Forever and Ler!Philza, Ler!Bad, Ler!Pac, Ler!Mike, Ler!Richarlyson, Ler!Tallulah and Ler!Chayanne. It is 8,000 words long.

[~*~]

Forever woke up. 

His eyes hurt when they opened so he kept them closed for a few minutes more, watching the flash of memories run behind his eyelids in blurry movements and sounds. 

For the first time in a while his mind was silent, clear from all the effects of what the Federation did to him. His feelings no longer exploded crazy in his chest as they often did during the last few days, fighting to survive before the chemicals from the drugs washed them over and got suppressed by a blinding, fake happiness.

Their kids were gone. 

Richarlyson was gone. His son disappeared in thin air and there were no clues or hints that showed any single way to get them back or even know where they went. 

The island was in scrambles, empty. 

There were explosions and grieving and chaos everywhere. Every parent doing any and everything to cope with the fact that from day to night they’ve got what was the most important for them ripped right from their fingers. 

The N.I.N.H.O, his project (his responsibility) didn’t work out this time and they lost everything because of it.

Badboyhalo was losing his colors. Baghera disappeared. Cellbit straight out begged him to not leave him alone during all of this. Mike hadn’t been seen in a long time. Etoiles was trying to keep their hopes up. Everyone asked him what they should do, now. What would he do as their president. 

And what did he do? He fucking lost it. He let his feelings get over his head, exploded everything that he could put his eyes on, demolished his base with TNT and threatened Cucurucho, forced the Federation to do a throwback just so they would have an island to put their feet on. Made the Federation see him as a threat and force those pills on him.

He left everyone. His family. His friends.

(What more could he do?)

And everyone should've left him too.

…

And yet…

And yet Pac jumped head first to save him. Accepting to go under Cucurucho’s “treatment” so he could analyze the drugs and find a cure for it. No matter how much he was shaking in fear the entire time, how bad the Federation treated him before or how there was just no certainty that his plan would even work

And yet Philza saw under his mask of smile, past the point of his gun and right into the pain in his eyes in his lowest moment and said that everything would be fine, that he still trusted him, that he knew who he was and how much he cared about the eggs. He said they would find a way to solve things out.

And yet Cellbit didn’t let him go for a single second. He followed him no matter the instability, during those painful moments of consciousness, beyond the fake minutes of happiness and slipped past his traps just to go and pull him out of it. He shouted and hugged and taunted and broke and fought dirty and did what he could to bring him back.

And yet Bad still talked and answered him, even with how much he was hurting, even with the bombs and screams and the dismissing he came back over and over again with his chats and banters and discussions that so easily led Forever to the trap that would come to save his life.

Once again, there were tears in his eyes. 

They were too his family. Forever was the one who put himself under Cucurucho’s radar by going apeshit and bombarding the entire island and they were the ones who saved him from that white fucking bear. From himself. From the Happy Pills.

He cried.

(What else could he do?)

Agony and hope danced in harmony in his chest, sucking all his other senses to nothing and filling his soul with every emotion under the sun at the same time. It was overwhelming but good to be free to feel so easily. It was horrible that he knew how it was like to miss this freedom so much. It was empty to feel this despair all over again. It was good, no, essential to know he was not alone.

Almost hopeful, even.

And yet their children were gone.

And yet everyone was kind of lost.

And yet they needed someone solid, a strong leader to step in.

Forever didn’t feel strong.

(What would he do?)

He wiped his tears. Sat on the bed. Got up. Put back the flag on his shoulder. Took a deep breath, listening to the very known voices coming out of the infirmary that made his entire face change to a (this time genuine) happy, tired and relieved kind of smile.

The president of Quesadilla Island woke up.

(And he didn’t have any idea of how much everyone had been waiting to show him how much they were happy about it.)

[~*~]

It all started in very tiny ways, as most things did, easy to miss if you didn’t know where to look. 

The first time it happened Forever was at favela. He had just finished fixing the elevator from the Karaoke and was watching the sunset (Hi, Bobby) wash over the beach in a dance of colors at the top of the building, resting on the parapet. Pac was somewhere close, building more houses or getting in trouble with Fit, but, besides them, it was just him, his memories and Copacabana beach.

Forever laid his head in his arms, with a long sigh, closing his eyes and just letting the wind mess his hair and clear his thoughts, enjoying the brief moment of peace before he started thinking about more plans and projects to fill his day and mind with.

It was hard, though. When every block he put down or decoration he pulled up made the blonde turn around with a call in the tip of his tongue, words disappearing when he realized that there was no set of small footsteps following him and probably never would again because they were all gone and he was not and how could he ever even think about-

A shiver ran down his spine and made his thoughts come to a halt when he felt a light tickle in the back of his neck, making him have to move a hand out of his comfortable position to wipe the leaf or whatever out of his skin. 

His fingers made contact with nothing. Uh. Must’ve flown away already.

He was tired. Maybe he should take the rest of the day to clean his base. There were still holes from the mine traps that someone has been spreading across the island lately. Another problem for him to resolve. Looked like those were never going to end.

The tickle came back, following him even when he flinched away, with a puffed snicker falling from his tongue. His hand shot to scare whatever insect it was from his neck again but the touch was as nimble as it was soft, lightly and skillfully dancing away from his hold before it could catch him.

“Que porra.” (“The fuck.”) He tried again and again, going so far as slapping his entire arm behind him, hitting nothing.

The sensation disappeared for a brief while before running all the way across his spine, making him almost jump in the air and finally give up his comfortable position to spin around. “Que que é isso, cara!” (“What is this, man!”)

“Pfff- hahaha!”

Forever turned just in the right moment to see his short friend, with sky blue eyes shining with a playful light, pulling a black, crooked and beautiful wing behind his back, his laugh ringing across the building.

“Philza! Really?” 

“What? You wouldn’t have that problem if you wore a shirt, you know?” Forever’s shouted “WHAAAAT!” did nothing to alleviate his laughing fit, a snort not taking long to appear.

“You, you’re, you’re bullying me, man! I just came out of the hospital and you treat me like this. I can’t believe it!”

“You’re-”

“You come here, you hit me, you don’t let me rest after I get out of a coma… I am an injured, man, you know that, Philza? You’re bullying an injured man.”

“I literally,” his tune tried and failed to sound at least a tidbit serious before he descended in more laughter. “I literally didn’t even hit you!” 

Forever continued as if he didn’t hear the protest of the other, turning around and gesticulating dramatically. “You’re a bully, Philza. You’re such a bully.”

“I am doing that to remind you to put on a shirt! You just came out of the hospital, you’re gonna catch a cold.”

“Nah, nah, nah, you’re mean. You’re just so mean to me. Like, I thought we were friends, you know? But I see the truth now.” He tsked. “That is just sad, Philza. That is really sad, man.”

“Oh my fucking god.” The punch he gave on Forever’s arms didn’t even hurt, only making the president snicker louder. “Shut the fuck up.”

Forever chuckled at how done the other sounded, watching him roll his eyes and shake his head with a big smile before taking (he wasn’t resting anymore so might as well just finish his work here) the chance and walking in between the tables and chairs until he got behind the balcony. In no time he began filling the storage with drinks and food. The high, upbeat joy of banting with his friend slowly calming down.

“Actually, I am going to put back my old black suit soon. I am just taking a break from wearing suits so much, you know?”

He didn’t have to explain what the break was really for and how his old presential clothes didn’t have anything to do with it, Philza understood. 

“Take that time off, Forever, you deserve it.” His tune was soft. 

Forever smiled, wishing he could show Phil how wrong he was. A“break” definitely wasn’t on the list of things that Forever deserved at all. That anarchist was way too kind.

“Thank you very much, my friend.” He closed the cabinet door, turning around (and away), facing the entire restaurant. 

Each chair, each color and decor had been carefully picked by small , gentle claws. The building had been chosen by hand and even the balcony was built lower than normal, made so that a small child could go behind it and pretend to be a barman, sing with the melodies and enjoy the view with their family and friends. 

Signs were still spreaded there, on the restaurant, the rooms, the favela, the N.I.N.H.O, the Spawn, their home and island… None of it had been built to be just for the adults and it all brought a longing pang in his chest. 

Saudade.

They’re gone. They’re gone and he was here laughing and resting and doing nothing to rescue them and how could he be so usele-

Another soft sweep of feathers right under his chin made him flinch away with a surprised, bitten giggle, successfully making his line of thoughts disintegrate for a second time. A half smile painted his face.

“Stop with that, man! It tickles.”

Philza tilted his head slightly to the side, eyes sharp in concentration, as if just realizing something. But at the sound of Forever’s voice he blinked and let his expression become a tad more relaxed, with worried tunes.

“You just seemed to be thinking a whole lot back there. What is in your mind?”

“Nothing really important. It doesn’t matter.”

“Well, I’ve got some bad news for you then, mate. Because it will matter to me. You can tell me anything, Forever.”

And for a moment the other considered not doing that. Teleporting away or brushing his worries with another topic or a joke. But that was Philza. 

Philza, one of the most protective parents who still trusted him with Tallulah when he was away. Philza, who didn’t care about the elections but voted for him anyway. Philza, who trusted him with such a conviction and an unyielding loyalty that Forever had no idea of what he could ever have done to deserve it.

(“You saved my children.” Philza would say if he could listen to him. “You went beyond and further to save everyone’s kids for free over and over so no parent would ever carry the grief of losing them again. You did it for Richarlyson, for Tallulah, for Bobby, for Pomme, for you, for us, for free. I’m not forgetting that easily and I’m not letting you forget too.”)

And that was enough.

He stared at the beach again, the words coming easier when he was not looking at the other.

“Talullah was the one who decorated the restaurant. We were having a Karaoke Night and when we got up here she had already put all those nice trees and pretty flowers…It looks really nice.”

Philza sighed, looking ten thousands of years older.

“Yeah, she has an amazing taste.” Then he walked and stayed right in front of Forever’s view, staring right at his eyes, serious. “We’re going to find them, ok? Richas, Talullah, Chayanne, Ramon… Every single one, we’re going to get them back. So don’t let yourself give up and stay focused.”

The president, his friend, nodded.

“We will get them back.” Forever agreed. “No matter what it costs.”

[~*~] 

But Philza was a discreet fella, so things continued to be shown in tiny ways for a while. A poke when he got too distracted and his thoughts too dark, a scribble to get his attention, a sweep of feathers when he refused to stop working so much and listen to the reason. Forever pretended to be annoyed, but the fact that the other cared so much and in such a playful way kept fishing fond smiles and amused chuckles out of him and that he couldn’t ignore.

His cute secret was secure with him, and so things took a while before it began escalating, all because of a different afternoon…

It started with a jumpscare.

“FOREVER!”

“PUTA MERDA!” (“HOLY SHIT!”) The loud shout quickly descended in a series of nervous giggles. The blond holding his chest and resting in a wall to not fall, muscles trembling with the sudden shot of adrenaline. 

It took a couple of minutes for him to get back his composure and glare at the demon that was still snickering gleefully at him, tail swooping around in delight as he jumped around. 

It took exactly one second. 

In a blink Forever was getting his soul back to his body and then in the other he was throwing himself at him and both were rolling on the floor in a mess of pushes and kicks. “Tu se acha engraçadão, hein? Tu se acha muito engraçadão. Palhaço! Tá palhaço demais, hein, Badboyhalo.” (“You think you’re so funny, yeah? You think you’re so funny. You clown! You’re being such a clown, huh, Badboyhalo.”)

Forever didn’t care that his wrestling was uncoordinated enough so most hits didn’t even land on his friend, different from Bad that actually got more than one or two kicks right before letting himself be lost in a mix of too joyfully complains of “unfair attack” and “dictator” to have any true heat in them. 

Their playful fight was kept for a few pieces of a while before they were too distracted by their own amusement to not let the other go and try to recompose themselves.

“Where! is! it!”

“What?” Forever asked, staring with confused eyes at the black demon who crossed his arms and squinted at him in what Forever could swear was an annoyed composure if it wasn’t the way his tail swayed around and his eyes glinted in glee. Whether it was for being so unclear and successfully confusing the blond or for the original reason he appeared there in the first place it wasn’t clear. 

For a moment his eyes unfocused from the form of the other and watched the wall full of kind, heartwarming messages that he asked for everyone still awake at that night to write so he could make BadboyHalo a surprise. Suddenly all the pieces came together in his mind and formed such a cute picture that Forever couldn’t help but let out a delighted chuckle, lips curling in an amused, teasing smirk. “Ooooh, I see what you’re talking about now, Badboy.”

That chuckles almost became a crackle when the only response he received was a petulant huff and a hand extended in his direction, fingers twitching impatiently. Forever took out his backpack, rummaging through it until he found the compartment where he kept all his flowers, carefully pushing Richa’s favorite one aside so he could pull another one. His fingers clasped around a stem and soon a light purple grazed his sight. “Here. Your daily flower. It’s for until you get better, right?”

“Oh, nice, thank you.” Bad’s voice tinted with a softer tune, carefully gathering the gift and putting it on his own backpack, in a special place, together with the others, before his tune became agitated again, feet tapping on the floor with energy. “But that is NOT what I am talking about.” He got closer and repeatedly began slapping his arm, following the president when he shouted and started running around the enclosed space, jumping in attempts to escape from the sudden attack. “WHERE IS IT! GIVE ME, IT’S MINE!”

“What! What more do you want from me!” When no answer was given besides more chasing and (friendly) hitting, the blonde got the warpstone with an exaggerated sigh. 

“You know, Badboyhalo,” when Forever said his entire name, it wasn’t exactly sing-songing, but it had a little beat painted with amusement and tease, when the demons haven’t been able to successfully annoy him out of his mind, of course. “I really need to go, man, and since you don’t have anything to say to me… tsk, that is so sad, man, I was really feeling quite… generous today”

“No!” The demon tried to grab his shoulder, but the blonde dodged swiftly, still pretending to be looking busy and thinking hard about his next location. “Forever. Do not. You’re not running away. I know what you’re doing!” Forever smiled. 

Being friends with Cellbit, you learned a thing or two. Like how to disappear in the middle of a conversation, but, especially, how to do that in the most annoying way possible. “No, no, no, I’m not running away at all, Bad, I am actually…”

However, that was the thing: Bad was also Cellbit’s friend, and so realized the exact moment that glint filled the president’s brown eyes what was about to happen. His hand flew in another attempt of a grab, missing once again his shoulder when the other, a bit later than last time, dodged, which allowed his reflex to kick in and his hand changed the trajectory and lay on the brazilian’s side, squeezing.

None of them was prepared for the squeal that this action fished.

For a second, a blissful second, everything froze and both stared at each other. 

That is how Forever saw the exact second the demon’s eyes squinted and a playful flame alighted in them.

In a blink his other hand also flew to his waist and began attacking both sides with no mercy. Forever had no chance to even try to stop the barking loud laughter that exploded from him, immediately letting go of the warpstone to clue on Bad’s wrists, trying to push them away by sheer reflex even before his brain could process what was happening. 

“Nonono, stop that! BA-ad!”

Bad couldn’t help but giggle, half adoring and half malefically, at the way the laughter made most of his words get almost intelligible. Besides, Bad thinks he could grow accustomed to having his name being snickered in such an adoring - together with that cute smile and shiny eyes - way more often, really.

His fingers poked and prodded with skill and curiosity, looking for any sensitive spot that could create a new fun sound and concentrating there for a few maddening seconds and plenty of digging before looking for the next one. There was a very nice one juuust above his lowest rib that made the barking laughter become a string of snickers that seemed to grow higher and faster by the seconds. It almost made Bad forget his main job now as his friend and rival the second (actually, even before that, if he was being honest, but honesty was overrated) he discovered that little fun secret about their dear tyrant:

Tease him out of his mind.

“Huh? Stop what, Foreverrr?” “That! You’re ti-” Bad closed his hands in fists and pressed his knuckles on his ribs and rubbed as if his life depended on it, cutting the rest of the sentence with success and filling the room with much more shrieks than before. “What was that?” 

Forever couldn’t answer, his legs were failing and it made him get close to a fall if it wasn’t for the demon adjusting his hold on him and slowly lowering him to the ground, fingers still dancing in each and every rib, scratching and scribbling happily.

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear what you’re saying, some muffinhead is laughing their heart out near here. Perhaps they heard a very good joke. Hmmm, what do you think Forever?”

Forever snorted, eyes almost closed with how much he was laughing, tears beginning to collect in the corner of his eyes. A few portuguese words got tangled with his crackling. Bad nodded seriously and slowed his tickle attack, not wanting to go too far.

“Uh hm, no, I get what you’re putting down here. We just need to ignore the laughter and keep up our nice conversation. I think that is a great idea!” He snuggled his hands cozily under Forever’s armpits, lightly wiggling and poking, which resulted in the laughter becoming a new dance of a calmer, but still high with adrenaline and mirth, string of snickers that made the blonde’s shoulders bounce in joy. “What were you saying before?” 

“Stop tickling me!” “What!” Bad gasped in offense. “How can you even accuse me like that! What the fudge, I thought we were friends. But, no, I see. I came aaaaall the way over here, did nothing wrong and you just treat me like that.” He gave a fake sniff.  “You’re hurting my feelings, Forever.” “Mentiroso!” (Liar!) It was quite difficult to see with tears and squinted eyes, especially when Bad’s hoodie always kept his expressions hidden, however, it was even harder to miss how those shiny eyes glinted with mischief and fondness and his smirk went from one ear to another. 

It was quite the sweet sight. Forever had to push his face away before it made him blush vomit. 

(For a second, he could almost swear that the blue that covered the other’s figure dimmed a little for a piece of time.)

“You’re such a liar.”

“Oh why, thank you.”

Bad freed his hands and softly attacked the back of the elf’s ears, still too lost in the lovely sound of his delightful giggles, crackles and snickers to actually let him go. That was the true sound of Forever’s happiness, not that forced, explosive laughter created by those pills. 

Besides, Forever also wasn’t pushing him away.

Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t the only one missing that freeing sound. Maybe Forever also longed for those moments of playful fights between them, of pushing the buttons and teasing and caring and always, always being there, for the better or the worse.

Eventually, the president held his hands and stopped the attack, left over giggles still pouring from his lips like a waterfall. 

Their eyes met.

Forever’s smile got relaxed and small before growing bigger. 

Bad just hummed, tail starting to sway fastly from side to side.

“So, Badboyhalo…”

“Yes?”

Forever’s grip got more firm. 

Bad’s pull got equally stronger. 

They kept smiling.

“Are you… uh.” His voice lost the undertone of playfulness, brown eyes focusing with true curiosity for a moment. “Coceguento? How is it in english? Tickly?”

“Oh, it’s ticklish. For example, you are very ticklish, Forever.”

“Hehehe,” he snorted, and his curiosity was satisfied. “Yeah, yeah, I got it. But what about you, Badboyhalo? Are you… ticklish?” The word came slowly and playfully, tinted with a nice accent.

Bad’s tail opened his backpack, rummaging in search for a very specific item.

“Hmmm… no, actually. I’m not.”

The blonde’s smile got more dangerous. “I don’t know… I don’t believe in you, man.” He found it. 

Bingo.

“Then why don’t you try to find out?” 

Forever pulled him closer and with a swift move the enderpearl that had been in his bag was thrown to the other side of the room, successfully freeing the demon from his hold. Not a second later, though, Forever was jumping on his feet, ready for another chase.

Lots of laughter filled the afternoon, that day.

[~*~]

After that, the avian wasn’t the only one who now randomly poked, prodded and attacked the outgoing brazilian when he wasn’t expecting, anymore. Even though Badboyhalo’s attacks were much more out of the blue, following him in those lonely afternoons when he was distracted in his adventures or too lost in a project to realize the other invaded his base in the middle of a sleepless night. 

But, you see, the difference between Philza and Bad and knowing that Forever is actually pretty ticklish is a very single detail: Bad is a fucking gossiper who loved to set chaos just to see where it would go. 

And, therefore, the main reason why Forever was so screwed right now.

“NÃO! SAI, SAI, SAI. LARGA DE MIM!” (NO! GET AWAY, GET AWAY, GET AWAY. LET ME GO!)

“Que isso, moço, tá fugindo da gente por que?” (What is this, bro? Why are you running away from us?) 

Forever didn’t even have to turn around to see Mike’s giant smug grin. It was almost palpable in his tune. But if anyone could have any doubt about its existence, they just needed to listen to his crackles as both him and Pac chased their friend through the Spawn, leaving a very amused Bad and  Bagi, who shouted a “Boa sorte aí, Forevinho!” (Good luck, Forevinho!) in the wind behind.

“Pois é, a gente só quer um abraço apertado do nosso presida da galera! Cadê o espírito da Favela Six?” (That’s right. We just want a tight hug from our favorite president! Where’s the Favela’s six spirit?) Pac, however, questioned with a genuine tune, almost naive like as he followed the other closely, getting closer and closer by the seconds. For a moment he almost tricked the president into thinking that he was the merciful one, then he remembered about that one tickle fight he, Mike and Tubbo had in the Favela.

Let’s just say it was just a very quick thought, really.

“Favela six é o caralho, ceis querem é me roubar. Eu já disse que não vai ter Armazém da Galera nenhum! Isso é ataque à autoridade, hein!” (Favela Six my ass, you just want to rob me. I already said that there won’t be any Free Storage! This is an attack on authority!)

“A gente só quer o que é nosso por direito, Forevin.” (We just want what is faithfully ours, Forevin.)

The blonde didn’t even have a chance to answer before an arm grabbed his shoulder and pushed, disbalancing him enough so Pac was able to sneak behind him and lock him in a hug, snickering gleefully in his ear.

“Que isso, cara, achava que tu era compromissado! Vou falar pro Fit, hein!” (The hell, man! I thought you were compromised! I’m going to tell Fit!) Forever’s struggles only grew stronger when he saw Mike getting closer, wiggling his hands in the form of claws as he stopped running and instead began to approach slowly, chuckles falling freely from his lips and making shivers run across his spine and giggles to pile in his chest. 

He tried again to free himself from the hug, showing no success. Pac’s hold was firm as a mountain.

“E desde quando que tu tá malhando? Tá todo mamadíssimo aí, né, eu tô sabendo.” (And since when you’re ripped? You’re all ‘mamadíssimo’ now. I see what’s going on.)

Pac let out an amused, with drops of shyness, snort. “Pois é, né, moço. Sabe como é né… Tô indo na academia do Fit bastante esses tempos e tudo mais, aí dá nisso.” (That is right, bro. You know how it is… I’m visiting Fit's Gym a lot these last days and that is what happens.) His tune lost a bit of the light and became more serious, cracked in the corners. “Também, né, a gente nunca sabe quando vai precisar. Eu não quero que quando chegue a hora…” (Also, we don’t know when we’re gonna need it. I don’t want that, when the time comes…)

Forever knew exactly what he was talking about, the same cloudy thoughts that filled everyone’s mind in the island the second he warned that the kids had ran away because a danger greater than everything they’ve seen before was coming, the Federation choosing to announce the train station’s opening in just a few days also did not help their nerves.

He looked at Pac’s shadows under his eyes, suddenly remembering that his friend also went under the Happy Pills Treatment, the horrible withdrawal, the exhaustion of recovery, all to save him. 

His struggles became just a little, a little less strong, heart melting and hurting like it did for every single member of their dysfunctional family since they arrived in that boat.

The scientists deserved to have their own silly fun, even if the fun was destroying their friend and president in a mess full of giggling pieces.

And so Forever let out a loud laughter, wiggling his eyebrows and giving him a knowing smirk. “Tu tá praticando bastante exercício com o Fit é? Aham, hehehe, tô sabendo.” (Doing a lot of exercise with Fit, yeah? Uh hm. Hehehe, I see.)

“FOREVER!” This time the snort that came out from Forever’s mouth was more of a result of Pac's unfairly squeezing his belly non stop instead of a reaction to the affronted shout, the one with blue hoodie not throwing any other remark or getting lost in any dark thought. The blonde counted that as a win for him. 

“Tá bem engraçadinho, mas você não vai conseguir me distrair. Sabe, o Badboy me falou algo muito interessante sobre você que ele descobriu mês passado…” (You think you’re being funny, huh. But you’re not going to distract me. You know, Badboy told me something very interesting about you that he discovered last month…)

Mike finally got right in front of him and Forever immediately started kicking in his direction to keep those offending fingers away from his torso at the same time that he continued to attempt to pry Pac’s hands - that somehow seemed to sense the exact spots he was the most sensitive and concentrate all their pinches, scribbles and tickly efforts on them over and over again - until the attack forced Forever to press his lips on his shoulder to contain the blossoming laughter and embarrassing squeals that tried to escape from his mouth.

His efforts to not let any sound out, however, were demolished when, in his distraction, Mike grabbed his ankle and grinned like a shark that finally got his prey. 

“Eu preferia uma mãozinha, mas já que é isso que você tá oferecendo…” (I’d rather you gave me a hand, but since you’re offering…) And, locking the leg in a headlock,  his fingers began dancing across his sole, walking around his arch and giving some special attention to the extremely ticklish space right under his toes, skillfully dodging any kicks that this move resulted in and breaking Forever’s barriers instantly.

Forever’s booming laughter filled the air in a free dance of joy, mirth and a warmth that filled his heart when he remembered just how long had it been since all of them could just get together and goof around a bit, no kidnappings or imminent dangers in their minds for a blissful pieces of time.

[~*~]

“Soooo, guys, I think I’m heading out, now.” Forever kept jumping on the trampoline, restless energy running on his veins after talking to Phil about his journey in the Nether. The virus hadn’t spread a lot those last days, but the conversation was hard, not only because of how, primarily, exhausting it was to go through all of it, but because for some reason something in him made he almost feel compelled to shut his mouth and not say a single word about the infection to anyone else.

They played and gave each other a few remarks and pokes of fun when Philza asked for Forever to take off his shirt in the bunker, careful touches analyzing the skin around the ébano substance glued on his back and in the nape of his head. Even so, it made the blonde want to hide away the result of his journey. Forever never have been ashamed of his body. He used to walk around shirtless, on the good old, first days on the island, afterall. But if he was being honest... he was afraid about that infection, and Philza didn’t seem very relieved about it either.

It was a literal mark about how he had failed in absolutely every single sense and chance he had out there. In finding any clue, in getting their kids back, in saving Walter Bob or even himself. In the end, he was not able to do any of this.

That is the President of Quesadilla Island, everyone.

(“We’re going to talk with Cucurucho and demand answers about what the fuck is this.”

Forever gave a humorless chuckle, happy that the children were outside playing so they weren’t here to witness how defeated he sounded for a second before adjusting himself to a playful grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, Philza, he is very good at this. Giving us answers, right?”

“We have to try. If someone knows about this it is the Federation.”  Philza brushed the other’s sarcastic ‘há!’ easily and moved until he was right in front of the brazilian, capturing his eyes in a firm stare. “And if they don’t have anything, we’re going to find our own answers.”

Forever nodded, not really believing.

“You worry too much, my friend.”

“Exactly. I already told you but I will repeat it until it gets through your thick skull: I always will worry and I’m not leaving you side, mate.”

For a moment words escaped from his tongue, a mix of feelings of ‘safe’, ‘happy’ and ‘embarrassment’ filled his chest before he got a hold of his senses. 

“Alright, alright, alright.” 

This time, when he smiled there was a light back into his brown, tired eyes. 

“You know, Philza, you really need to get over me, man. The line continues, I’m already moving forward and you still try to romance me, it’s- what is the word? Oh, embarrassing, hehehe”

The avian took advantage of his position to hit the other upside his head, a surprise snort being fished from his lips. 

“Oho, shut the fuck up. You’re the one who is still on this!”)

And yeah, maybe he was just making a strategic retreat after showing vulnerability, but who could blame him, really? No one, that’s who. He would be out before they did try.

“Come on, Richas, vamo de Megabase.” (Let’s go to Megabase) He called, getting out of the trampoline when the boy kept painting and paid him no mind. Tallulah, however, stopped writing on a book to go to him, Chayanne turned to look from his place next to the grill nearby, already testing a new recipe.

The girl placed a sign and stared at him with attentive eyes, lips firmly pressed in a shadow of disappointment. ‘You already going?’

(God. He really missed the sound of little steps and signs being placed. They missed it all so much.)

Forever internally winced. He really didn’t spend a lot of time with Chay and Talullah since they’re back, letting them enjoy more time with Phil and just making quick check ins once in a while. He also took the last days to spend as much time as he could with Richas, afterall.

“Yeah... sorry, Talullah, but me and Richas still have to finish our project, right Richas?”

Still no answer from the younger one, too concentrated in every stroke to pay the conversation any mind.

Forever chuckled, sensing a chance for some mischief. Cleaning his throat, he lifted his voice from the usual soft tune he always used with Tallulah to a more taunting tune, making it louder so Richas could listen perfectly well.

“Ohhh, but maybe you can go and help me to make it, right, Talullah? You’re such a nice, helpful egg who listens to your parents when they call you, just like Chayanne. Richarlyson could take some examples from his older siblings more, tsk.” The president had to hold the snickers when he saw the red cow head stop and slowly, threateningly slowly, turn around to face him, Richas letting go of the brush to squint their eyes at him. Talullah and Chayanne rolled their eyes, amused, already used to the playful banters between father and son. “But ahh, he just never listens. Oooh, I have an idea! While Tallulah helps me with the decoration, Chayanne, you can go too and make your delicious barbecue there to keep us- AH!”

The surprised shout was a direct result for when the younger launched himself at his father in protest and began roughhousing immediately, both descending in growls and portuguese for a few couple of minutes before Forever laid a satisfied Richas on the floor, who immediately placed a sign.

‘Pai, stop. I’m making Pepito’s birthday present, let me finish it >:0 we can go Mebase later :D’

“Ok, ok, I get it, I get it. You like Pepito more than your own father. Yeah, yeah, no Richas, no, I get it.” He began fake sniffing and making crying noises, leading to a Richas kicking his leg in a clear message of ‘stop the dramatics’ before going back to the canvas. “Ok, ok, warn me when you finish your drawing then, we can stay a little more.”

The three kids danced in excitement.

(...)

He is not sure how exactly he had ended up in this position.

Talullah and Chayanne were secure and cozy his arms, half because of a poke of fun at Philza that started with a joke ten minutes ago and they just kept it running and half as a parting hug that was stiffly (but still very carefully) answered by Chayanne and warmly by Tallulah. Forever enthusiastically squeezed and hugged them even tighter. A bit jealous of how Philza could shield them both with his wings during their own hugs and how he could only wish that his arms would be strong enough to defend them when the time comes.

“OK, now it’s for real. Richas, let’s go!”

But, when Richarlyson appeared in front of him, paints and canva already put inside his backpack, his smile had a different tint in it and, between his curls, Forever could recognize the flame that always appeared when that kid’s inner demon - not his terrifying artistic alter ego, though, the general demon that lives inside every rascal kid - woke in search of chaos.

He immediately became wary.

‘Chay, Talluh, can I tell you a secret about Pai Forever? 0-0’

Both siblings immediately nodded.

“Ohh, gossip. I like, I like.” Philza snorted at the affronted look in Forever’s face. 

“Vai contar nada, vai contar nada, seu muleque atentado! Nem sei o que tu vai falar, mas não vai falar não. Que que é isso, Richarlyson, tá se virando contra o seu próprio pai?” (You’re telling nothing, you’re telling nothing, you absolute brat. I don’t even know what you’re about to say but you’re telling nothing. What is it, Richarlyson, are you turning against your own dad?)

During the entire scold Richas kept jumping around in circles with the utmost, simple delight, wiggling his body and tail in sync in front of Forever, as if daring him to let go of the other two eggs to go and actually catch him, like a cat looking deep into your eyes before throwing the cup right off your table.

He put a sign on the ground.

‘Pai Forever is absurdly, awfully, very, very, ticklish. And it’s so funny because he always agrees to give us anything when we tickle attack him at home.'

“WHAAAAAT! RICHARLYSON, TU VAI FICAR DE CASTIGO, SEU OVO SAFADO. VAI PASSAR O RESTO DA VIDA NAQUELE CASTELO ASSOMBRADO LÁ DO TEU PAI CELLBIT. VOU CHAMAR O ELMARIANA PRA PUXAR TEU PÉ DE NOITE” (RICHARLYSON, YOU’RE GOING TO GET GROUNDED, YOU RASCAL. YOU’RE GOING TO SPEND THE REST OF YOUR LIFE IN YOUR DAD CELLBIT’S HAUNTED CASTLE. I’M GOING TO CALL ELMARIANA TO PULL YOUR FEET IN THE NIGHT.)

His kid, his beautiful, beautiful baby boy that he would explode the entire island for and go through the literal hell all over again if it meant that he would be finally safe, only looked at him in a confused expression - as if the lil shit just couldn’t tell why his dear pai was running away from him as he tried to get closer - and began following his steps as Forever tried to put distance between them, holding Chayanne and Talullah the farthest away from his torso that he could while the two squirmed trying to escape and attack.

In the end his back ended up hitting the tree and, without being able to get his items to flee, he had nowhere to go.

“Wait, wait, wait, don-” A chortle escaped the very exact moment Richas began drilling on his sides, making Forever want to bounce up and down with the sudden tickly energy that shot through his entire body, leaving his mouth with a big, dazzling smile and his arms to fall in an attempt to protect himself from the tickling, which inevitably brought the other children close and sealed his fate.

Tallulah was bold, briefly looking at his face for any sign of discomfort before carefully shoving her claws under his armpit, scratching the ticklish skin with ease, but for the loud shriek that this resulted one could think that she just unlocked a full, unmerciful on a tickle attack.

Chayanne took a bit longer, giving his surroundings and sky a wary look, as if a monster would appear the very second he lowered his guard, only to end up finding his father’s gaze, who was watching at them with a soft expression and nodding encouragingly. The little (way to young) warrior relaxed and also took the job of scribbling, encircling and digging (just the tiniest bit, he had to be mindful about his claws after all) the other armpit, fish just more squeals and plenty of gleeful laughter with that.

Forever felt like he was about to jump out of his skin, his body going crazy at the ‘it tickles, it tickles so so much!’ feeling while his brain was still caught in the need to not move around too much to not hurt any kid with his squirms. All of which ended up with the blonde doing a weird little dance around the spot that brought plenty of giggles and amused snickers from the young ones.

Now, the similarity between Philza and Bad is that, while he wasn’t exactly the one who created it, Philza was more than inclined and wouldn’t necessarily refuse to add to a chaotic situation it if the chance came, if he felt like it.

That is why he stepped close, winking at them. “I think it’s better if you just agree to their terms, Forever.”

“I-I” the adult tried to bite back another giggling fit, but their tickles were so goddamn light and maddening- “I don’t even snk know what thehey want!”

“Just agree to give them anything then.”

Forever shook his head. He knew his son enough to understand how much of a pain in the ass that decision could become.

“Needing more convincing? Well, kids, you saw it.”

“Filho da puta-” (Son of a bitch-), and Forever threw his head backwards in more laughter, more squeaks, more half squirms.

Now, Philza may not know Portuguese. However, six months sharing an island with 7 brazilians and plenty of reasons to swear taught him well what some words meant. He snorted, half amused and half affronted.  

“Do NOT swear in front of the children.” Then, a wicked grin was formed in his expression.“You know what? I think the eggs need a little help.”

Forever’s eyes got wide when he saw the avian stepping close, cracking his fingers, making an electric shiver run across his spine and spread through his nerves, making his fingertips tingle with adrenaline and anticipation. 

His legs tensed in preparation for the chase, unfortunately, his son knew him too well.

In a blink Richarlyson threw himself on his legs and hugged them, successfully stopping him from even trying to escape. And those extra pieces of time were all that Philza needed. As fast as he was to defend and attack, he positioned himself right in front of the president, firmly pressing his shoulder to the tree and not really, truly, preventing him from escaping, but successfully securing him in place, in the same time.

“Ok, kids, what I know for a fact is that his neck is a very bad spot…” He demonstrated it by lightly tracing and wiggling his nails on said place, all of the dragon hybrids watching attentively as the action made Forever lose himself in a sea of snickers and yelps, a stronger reaction only coming out when two more tiny hands got mixed in the fun when Chayanne and Talullah tried mirroring their dad.

“But a spot that could make him cave…” Philza hummed before turning to the young one with a red mushroom cow head. “What do you think, Richarlyson? His hips or the back of his ribs?”

Richas looked at his dad. 

At how dark have been the circles under his eyes since he came back, at how he kept chatting with the islanders but never truly talking to them, how he always kept running off to another project or meeting, always saying that Richas was his son and his best friend and the only one he could trust when they got caught up in the middle of the night building and decorating his base.

He saw how, until now, he hadn’t run away. Through the teases, the attacks and tickles, he stayed.

And so, he smirked. 

Placed a sign.

‘Both?’

“Geez, I’m never getting into a tickle fight with you, mate.” Even so, the avian reflected his smirk right back at him and both turned to look at Chayanne and Talullah, who nodded in understanding and placed their claws on the back of his ribs. 

“Nononono! Wait!” Philza placed his free hand on his hips, thumb pressing the spot right above the bone, the palm resting on the back of his spine. Forever’s speech became more high pitched and much faster, with nervous, delirious chuckles already spilling and spinning in the air. “None of you said what you wanted from me! That is not justo, uh, just, huh, fair! Calma aí, come on, wait, wait, wait!”

They did not, in fact, wait.

For a second, once again, everything else in the world disappeared. There were no code monsters, no Federation, no Purgatory or anything else but the warm, electric feeling of fingers and claws prodding, pinching and scratching that took over his entire senses, making his laughter ring free in a song composed of yelps, shrieks, squeals and snickers that filled the air. There was nothing else but the fun, the joy and the warmth of a careful touch and silly taunting smiles that his heart melt with care over and over again.

In the end, after more laughter, plenty of teasing and lots of snorts, they finally agreed to ask him to visit them again after a couple of days for a nice picnic. A request which, in between leftover chuckles, plenty complains and a few gleeful tears, Forever agreed, a plan of vengeance already forming in his brain.

[trayusss]

They are real now

Me being very kind to buttocks ❤️

[urlocalbowserfangirl]

PMATGA character nationalities headcanons

Pac - Mixed race (American with Scottish maternal ancestry and Japanese paternal ancestry.) Spiral - Black, American with African ancestry Cylindria - American, Candian Skeebo - American Elliptica - American, Wasian

President Spheros - Light brown skin and American.

Lord Betrayus - White, American (Japanese ancestry)

Spheria Suprema - Mixed race (American with scottish maternal ancestry.)

Sir Cumference - White and American ancestry.

Buttler -White, British/German ancestry.

Dr. Buttocks - White, British/German ancestry.

Blinky - Mixed race, Japanese ancestry

Pinky - Wasian, French/Japanese ancestry.

Inky - American/Japanese

Clyde - Mixed race, Blasian.

Apex - American

Professor Pointybrains - British

Tip - Black, American

Zac - Mixed race (American with Scottish maternal ancestry and Japanese paternal ancestry.)

Sunny - Mixed race (American with Scottish maternal ancestry and Japanese paternal ancestry.)

OCs Sydney Lee Miller - American, Wasian

Sydney’s unnamed older brother- American, Wasian

Mayumi (Sydney's older sister) - American, Wasian

Quinn (Sydney's younger sister) - American, Wasian

Kenzo: (Sydney's baby brother) - American, Wasian

Pazma Miller (Sydney's mother) - American, Wasian

Radian Miller (Sydney's father) - American, Wasian

Grandma Miller (Sydney's grandmother) - American, Wasian

Grandpa Miller (Sydney’s Grandfather) - American, Wasian

Uncle Cubois (Sydney's uncle) -American, Wasian

Aunt Triangularina (Sydney's aunt) - American, Wasian

Haruki and Himari (Sydney's cousins) - American, Wasian

Daniella Spheros (Betrayus and Sydney’s daughter) - Mixed race, Japanese ancestry

[anonymous-dentist]

oie,

desculpa pela ask longa, até pq ninguém pediu minha opinião em nada mas eu queria compartilhar e também saber a visão de outras pessoas de fora da bolha que eu participo e se não quiser responder não tem problema.

• você acompanha mais streamers do qsmp?

quando o server estava ativo eu fazia de tudo para assistir todos os povs mas conforme o tempo foi passando eu meio que perdi o interesse em vários e me sinto meio mal as vezes.

• você realmente gostaria de ter o qsmp de volta?

acho que a única coisa que eu realmente gostaria é de saber era o que os guapoduo/spiderbit iam fazer com a lore deles e só, espero que algum dia eles resolvam compartilhar.

• como você vê toda a situação do server e gosta do quackity?

eu gostava muito dele antes de tudo acontecer e pode parecer um pouco pesado o que vou dizer aqui mas agora eu meio que sinto nojo dele (acho que é uma boa forma de descrever) e é tanto que não consigo nem olhar pra cara dele e tenho pavor só de ler o nome dele, e aqueles fãs dele só pioram tudo juro que acho que nunca odiei tanto algo como odeio os fãs dele e pior que ele incentiva tais comportamentos.

enfim, parando pra pensar a única coisa que sinto falta era de alguns cc's reunidos mas no saldo final eu acho que odiei tudo o que o qsmp fez com a minha comunidade, claro que teve partes boas como: interagir com pessoas de outras nacionalidades, ver artes incríveis, conhecer alguns (poucos) cc's bem legais e um pouco de reconhecimento internacional mas no final não acredito que passar por tudo tenha valido a pena.

o tanto de hate que tive que ler não só a pessoa que eu acompanhava mas a também ao meu país, a minha nacionalidade, a minha comunidade e eram coisas pesadas, além de obrigarem o meu criador de conteúdo favorito a soltar um pdf tendo que se explicar e se assumir (foi primeiramente culpa da sasa mas só chegou naquele ponto pq a comunidade do quackity fez questão de espalhar para todo mundo), sou bem rancorosa então nunca vou perdoar e espero que a próxima vez que alguém for fazer algo relacionado com diversos países que faça direito pq tô bem cansada de ver gringos sendo xenofóbicos e o pior é que a grande maioria de hate que vi eram de pessoas que vinham de países latinos então assim???? cadê o sentido? eles amam fazer isso com brasileiros mas choram quando a Espanha faz a mesma coisa com eles (não estou defendendo de jeito nenhum só expondo a hipocrisia de alguns).

acho que é isso, de novo peço desculpas por ser super longo e por estar em português, queria fazer muitas outras perguntas pq você é a única conta gringa que eu conheço mas vou deixar para outro dia.

se você responder e outras pessoas verem eu queria muito que elas compartilhassem a visão delas também se fosse possível, adoraria ler ❤️

e FELIZ ANIVERSÁRIO ATRASADO 🥳🎉🎂 espero que você tenha tido o melhor dia de todos, desejo tudo de bom na sua vida e que você realize todos os seus sonhos. 💕

(ps. não revisei antes de mandar e se tiver algum erro na tradução me perdoa, tentei escrever as palavras inteiras em vez de abreviar)

Back when the QSMP was still going, here's the guys I watched regularly

Cellbit

Roier

Foolish

Pac e Mike

Bagi

I also watched a solid 75% of Charlie's streams, and I watched Baghera when I could (but she was always live at a weird time for me.) And Etoiles!

I don't want the QSMP back for the simple fact that I don't trust the leadership to actually run the server properly. The last month and a half of the server under them was a mess, nothing got resolved under them, the final event was the same clickbait-y bullshit every big event had been since the elections, the way they treated the egg actors' narrative decisions in the end left much to be desired, and! The Q Studios team isn't fucking shipping their merch! The final egg drop? With Pepito, Sunny, and Empanada? Says that it was supposed to ship in July, and it's September and legitimately nobody has their order, and the team is being seemingly purposefully obtuse when it comes to people asking when their stuff, that they paid for, is going to be shipped. The response emails read like goddamn AI, and trust me, I know from personal experience what the emails look like.

The whole thing REALLY made me lose confidence in Quackity. I'd been a regular viewer since 2021, and the way he handled the server's problems in March and then the way he completely abandoned the server's problems by taking himself out of the administration really made me go. Dude. What the fuck. Dumbass.

But what really has driven me away from Quackity's content isn't the man himself, he's fine, just a complete dumbass. It's his toxic fanbase sending me death threats every time I talk about him without throwing never-ending praise on him. I wrote a fic where his character died, and I got death threats. And I'm American! The shit I've seen his community do to the Brazilian and French fanbases is sickening. I haven't seen this level of online cruelty in years, and I'm a former DSMP girlie. I thought we left this shit behind with the DSMP, what the fuck are people doing harassing and insulting Philza Goddamn Minecraft for saying that the QSMP would've been better if the admins were treated fairly. Which is something that Quackity himself said!

I have this thing where I dislike ccs because of their fans. I'm like that with Tommy and Tubbo and Phil and basically the rest of SBI and SBI Extended, and with Charlie (even though I REALLY like Charlie's content), and now I'm like that with Quackity. I don't have anything against him personally, I just think he's a complete and total dumbass when it comes to business decisions and leadership positions within businesses. But his fans? Fucking shoot me. I wish he would say something like, "Hey, stop being racist towards my friends", but he couldn't even do that when the QSMP was going; he, instead, said that all the racist and xenophobic things being said by people on Twitter with his face as their icons and with his name in their usernames and bios were being said by "haters" from "outside of the community".

So.

I'm so happy that I'm mostly off twitter for good these days. I haven't been on for over a week now that the people I followed are on Bluesky, and Bluesky has a happy little lack of toxic Q stans on it that really makes it a much more pleasant experience.

I really miss the QSMP, but I don't think I'd ever want it back. The QSMP 2 won't be the same as the original (if it even happens) because it'll be missing a big portion of the Brazilian and French fanbases thanks to all the harassment they've been receiving for over a year now. If the only people in the fandom are the same people mocking the very existence of labor unions (not just the kinda-weird French one), throwing slurs at Brazilians, and wishing actual death upon anyone daring to criticize the server or its creator, well. It doesn't need to exist, does it?

[moiteneia]

Who I was before you:

Como eu era antes de você (AU-Guapoduo):

Esse é um dos meus filmes favoritos, mas eu não li o livro, então me perdoem se faltar algo ESSENCIAL para essa sinopse.

“g!Cellbit sofreu um grave acidente.

Ele era um detetive já se estabelecendo em sua carreira quando aconteceu. Tinha ganhado fama em alguns casos que conseguiu solucionar em tempo recorde e estava recebendo reconhecimento no ramo por não ser indelicado com as vítimas e tomar todo cuidado para não perder pistas ou destruir as cenas do crime.

Porém, em um determinado dia, enquanto estava ajudando na perseguição de alguns criminosos (f!Guaxi, f!Jvnq e f!Pac), ele recebeu um tiro nas costas que acabou acertando a sua medula. Isso o paralisou da cabeça para baixo.

Ele fez inúmeros tratamentos e cirurgias, mas era impossível, ele estava “condenado”, ou, pelo menos, se sentia assim. Nada o trazia alegria e nada o fazia ter vontade de sair de sua cama, ele não via mais sentido em viver.

Mesmo que aceitasse pegar alguns casos para investigar, ele não saía de casa, não falava com ninguém se não por mensagens de voz ou texto, ele não cortava o cabelo ou ligava para sua aparência.

Sua irmã, g!Bagi, havia se mudado para a casa dele junto sua esposa e filhos. Ela ela queria cuidar dele, tentar anima-lo junto as crianças. Mas parecia que nada realmente ajudava e ela também precisava voltar a trabalhar.

Cinco anos desde do acidente se passaram e ela finalmente encontrou alguém para ajuda-la e que ela acreditava ser uma pessoa realmente boa. E com isso conhecemos nosso outro protagonista: q!Roier. g!Roier vivia ainda com seus pais. Ele era psicologo e tinha se especializado em fisioterapia.

Era um homem doce e gentil, se vestia com moletons de super heróis e gostava de passear ao ar livre, sempre exibindo seu belo sorriso. Ao ler sobre o caso de g!Cellbit nos arquivos que a irmã do paciente havia trazido, ele sabia que seria um desafio, ainda mais parecendo que o paciente em si ser um homem com personalidade difícil.

Mas g!Roier também não era só alegrias, havia vivido seus maus bocados e entendia a dor de se sentir completamente perdido e vazio. Ele aceita o desafio e começa a frequentar a mansão do detetive.

Será que o fisioterapeuta seria capaz de amolecer o coração do detetive? Ou será que o fim dessa história já está destinada a acabar?*”

(*Recomendo a ver o filme para entender o que eu quis dizer nessas últimas linhas). Gostou ou meh? Eu fiquei pensando nessa au a noite toda kkkkk.

XxX ENG XxX

How I was before you (AU-Guapoduo):

This is one of my favorite films, but I haven't read the book, so forgive me if something ESSENTIAL is missing from this synopsis.

“q!Cellbit suffered a serious accident. He was a detective already establishing himself in his career. He had gained fame in some cases that he managed to solve in record time and was recognized in the industry for not being rude to victims and taking great care not to lose clues or destroy the crime scene.

However, on a certain day, while he was helping to chase a group of criminals (f!Guaxi f!Jnvq and f!Pac :) ), he received a shot in the back that ended up hitting his spinal cord. It paralyzed him from the head down. He had countless treatments and surgeries, but it was impossible, he was “doomed”, or at least he felt that way.

Nothing brought him joy and nothing made him want to get out of his bed, he no longer saw the point in living. Even if he agreed to take on some cases to investigate, he didn't leave the house, he didn't talk to anyone other than through voice messages or texts, he didn't cut his hair or care about his appearance.

His sister, q!Bagi, had moved into his house with her wife and children. She wanted to take care of him, try to cheer him up with the children. But it seemed like nothing really helped and she also needed to go back to work.

Five years have passed since the accident and she finally found someone to help her who she believed to be a really good person. And with that we meet our other protagonist: q!Roier.

q!Roier still lived with his parents. He was a psychologist and had specialized in physiotherapy. He was a sweet and kind man, he dressed in superhero sweatshirts and liked to walk outdoors, always showing off his beautiful smile.

When reading about q!Cellbit's case in the files that the patient's sister had brought, he knew it would be a challenge, especially since the patient himself seemed to be a man with a difficult personality. But q!Roier wasn't all joy either, he had experienced his bad times and understood the pain of feeling completely lost and empty.

He accepts the challenge and starts visiting the detective's mansion. Would the physical therapist be able to soften the detective's heart? Or is the end of this story already destined to end?*”

(*I recommend watching the film to understand what I meant in those last lines). Did you like it or meh? I was thinking about this au all night hahaha

[thegreatspheal]

Spheal!

here it is! my pacworlder oc (also my self insert) the shoes were so hard to draw Hehe, his name is Spheal! It's like the pokemon! Though, I didn't think of the pokemon when I made the name, so it's like a three in one! Details: -Male -26 years old -Very picky, mostly eats seafood. -He's actually part-yellow one! He's able to eat ghosts just like Pac! (if only he wasn't picky, he'd be able to eat more ghosts...) -Only really likes the taste of a few ghosts. Those being Betrayus, Dr. Buttocks, and Butt-ler. -He isn't much of a defender of Pacworld, but he tries his best. -Has fear-activated claws embedded into his gloves. They also have safety features so he doesn't accidentally stab himself with them. -He's basically on community service for life, as President Spheros required. (It's not really community service but Spheal jokes about it being like community service) Not releasing much of details right now, considering I may wanna make a comic, but if I don't, I'll release more details later with another text post. The AU will be under the tag "#the whole spiel au" Closeups under the cut:

[little-big-fan]

Um neném para o Idol. (Jungkook - BTS) Parte 2.

Parte 1.

n/a: Eu sei que o que ganhou na enquete foi a opção de ter um imagine diferente além das partes desse daqui, mas, como expliquei lá no outro tumblr, eu comecei um emprego novo essa semana e não consegui produzir nada, então, espero que gostem da continuação <3

Ajuda com os nomes:

Jungkook: Jeon, JK J-hope: Hobi, Hoseok Suga: Yoongi Taehyung: V Namjoon: RM (também chamei ele de "líder" em algumas partes) Jin: Seokjin Jimin: Chamei ele só de Jimin mesmo, mas fiquei com pena de deixar de fora da lista KKKKKKK

Jungkook's pov.

Ainda tentando não acreditar no óbvio, encarei a cena na minha frente. 

A garotinha que tinha feições iguais às minhas sorria no colo com homem loiro que a alimentava com naturalidade. 

Comendo no mesmo prato, usando o mesmo talher. 

Ele afastava os pimentões da comida antes de lhe oferecer. 

Assim como eu afastava da minha. 

— Papa, vai levar a Liz no parquinho amanhã? — Ela perguntou com a boca cheia. 

— É “vai me levar no parquinho”, querida. — Corrigiu com carinho, embrulhando o meu estômago. 

Papa.

Pela milésima vez fiz as contas na minha cabeça. Essa garotinha tem pelo menos três anos. Idade o suficiente para ser minha. 

Isso não pode ser uma coincidência.

O fato dela odiar pimentões, sua alergia a amendoim, as características físicas. 

Essa garota é uma miniatura minha, até mesmo alguém cego diria isso. 

O celular que estava em cima da mesa vibrou, e o loiro ergueu a tela, bufando em seguida.

— Preciso voltar para o hospital. — Encarou a garota que anos atrás quase foi minha. 

— Hospital? — Ouvi alguém perguntar. 

— Pac é cirurgião. — Hobi falou, enfiando uma batata frita na boca. 

Liguei os pontos mais uma vez. Hoseok sabia sobre Liz durante todos esses anos, e nunca disse sequer uma palavra. 

De todos nós, ele era o único que ela conhecia e tinha intimidade. 

Tomei um gole da minha cerveja, engolindo a insatisfação que se instalou com o meu amigo. 

— Não vai ler historinha? — Liz perguntou fazendo um beicinho.

— A mamãe pode ler. — S/N disse. 

— Os titios podem ler? — Perguntou dando um pulo no colo do cara, como se tivesse acabado de ter uma ideia brilhante. — A Liz tem um mooooonte de titios agora. 

Titio.

A palavra inocente me apunhalou com força. 

S/N encarou o namorado ou marido… e ele não parecia nada contente, mas apenas deu de ombros. 

— Se eles quiserem. — Disse por fim. 

Nos encarando com um par de olhinhos brilhantes, ela esperou uma resposta, e comemorou animada quando concordamos. 

Depois de terminarmos a refeição, e o cara que me encarava com ódio estampado sair, S/N levou Liz até seu quarto, vestido-a em um pijama cheio de bichinhos desenhados. 

Sentamos os sete ao redor da cama pequena e repleta de pelúcias, tomei lugar ao lado da cabeceira. 

— Que história você quer? — Hobi perguntou encarando a estante cheia de livrinhos infantis. 

— Da bela, titio. — Ela deu um tapinha na testa, fazendo com que todos nós sorrissemos. 

Cada um leu um parágrafo, passando o livro para o próximo. Liz estendeu uma das mãozinhas para mim, espalhando um calor que nunca havia sentido antes quando fechou os dedos envolta dos meus. 

Já em um sono profundo e tranquilo, ela ressoa baixinho, roncando de vez em quando. Observei em silêncio suas feições delicadas. 

Os cabelos escuros espalhados pelo travesseiro cor de rosa, os cílios cheios envolvendo os olhos redondinhos, as bochechas gordinhas e levemente coradas, a boca entreaberta sugando o ar com tranquilidade. Até mesmo a pintinha abaixo do lábio inferior era igual a minha.

Uma vontade estranha de chorar me atingiu.

— JK. — Jimin chamou baixinho. Virei o rosto, vendo a compressão nos olhos cobertos por lentes azuis. — Vamos deixar ela dormir. — Sussurrou, me fazendo notar que os outros já haviam deixado o quarto. 

— Quero ficar mais um pouco. — Falei com a voz engasgada. 

— Acha que ela pode ser sua? 

— Tem como não ser? — Voltei a olhar a obra perfeita. Me enchendo de sentimentos confusos. 

— Acho que você e a S/N precisam conversar. 

— Conversar? Ela escondeu a minha filha de mim, Hyung. — Respirei fundo, tentando me acalmar. 

— Ela deve ter tido os motivos dela. — Tentou ajudar.

— Que motivos? — Perguntei com desespero. — Hyung, a minha filha chama outro homem de pai. — Lamentei, deixando as primeiras lágrimas escorrerem.

Meu amigo colocou as mãos sobre os meus ombros, pressionando os músculos tensos. Chorei em silêncio, olhando para a garotinha adormecida. 

Depois de algum tempo, deixei que ele me convencesse a sair do quarto. 

Voltamos para a sala, encontrando apenas a mulher quieta sentada no sofá. 

— Eles foram na frente. — Disse baixo. 

— Acho melhor vocês dois conversarem. — Jimin falou me encarando antes de seguir caminho até a porta. 

Respirei fundo algumas vezes, controlando a raiva e a vontade de gritar. S\N encarava as mãos cruzadas sobre o próprio colo, seus ombros subiam e desciam em uma respiração desregulada. 

— Você pretendia me contar? — Perguntei baixo, fazendo com que ela finalmente me encarasse. — Não achou importante… sei lá, me dizer que eu tenho uma filha? — Destilei toda minha ironia. 

— Como é? — Se levantou, incrédula. — Você é algum tipo de psicopata? 

— Eu?! — Praticamente gritei. 

— Você vai acordar ela. — Avisou, apontando o indicador para o meu rosto. Encarei a porta entreaberta do quarto, Liz ainda dormia tranquila. — Não venha se fazer de vítima.

— Eu sou a porra da vítima. — Cuspi as palavras. — Você escondeu a minha filha de mim! 

— Ah, por favor, Jeon. — Pronunciou meu nome com nojo. — Você me ameaçou quando contei sobre a gravidez, achou mesmo que eu iria aparecer com a menina na sua frente?

— Você não me contou de gravidez nenhuma. — Enfiei os dedos entre meu cabelo, tentando diminuir a pressão que se formava na minha cabeça.

— Ah sim, as merdas que você me disse foram fruto da minha mente. — Mais uma vez usou a ironia como arma. 

— Eu acho que foram mesmo. — Empurrei a língua contra a bochecha, em mais uma tentativa de me acalmar. — Se você acha que não vou atrás dos meus direitos, está muito enganada. — Avisei.

— Direitos? — Falou incrédula. — Você perdeu qualquer direito quando me mandou sumir grávida! 

— Você é louca, garota? — S/N enfiou a mão no bolso de trás, sacando o telefone e passando os dedos com rapidez pela tela. — Vai chamar seu namoradinho? — Perguntei com ironia. 

— Aqui. — Me estendeu o aparelho. — Parece coisa da minha cabeça pra você? 

Com as mãos frias, peguei o celular. Um arrepio estranho e uma vontade de vomitar me atingiram. As mensagens anteriores deixavam claro que era mesmo uma conversa entre nós dois. Palavras duras e nojentas foram enviadas por “mim”. Mas eu nunca faria aquilo, nem com toda a raiva do mundo acusaria a garota por quem estava apaixonado de tentar me dar um golpe. Internamente assumi toda a responsabilidade no momento em que decidi transar sem camisinha com S/N. E quando ela simplesmente sumiu da Coreia, mudando de número, imaginei que não quisesse mais me ver e tivesse apenas seguido com a sua vida. 

— Eu não… S/N eu nunca mandei isso pra você. — A encarei, gaguejando. A garota soltou o ar pelo nariz, sorrindo incrédula.

— Sim, seu celular mandou sozinho. 

— Eu tô falando sério. — Cocei a nuca, tentando imaginar quem poderia ter pego o meu telefone e cometido aquela atrocidade. — Eu nunca diria isso, mesmo que odiasse você, não te deixaria grávida de um filho meu e desamparada. — Devolvi o telefone. 

— Então quem foi? — Ergueu as sobrancelhas, uma expressão de desafio.

— Eu não sei. — Admiti e ela riu com escárnio. 

— Você se arrependeu no momento em que viu como ela é perfeita, não é? 

— Eu não sabia sobre ela. — Insisti. — Eu juro.

— Não acredito em você. — Deu de ombros. — E se acha que vai tirar ela de mim, você está enganado. — Os olhos grandes se encheram de lágrimas. — Ela é minha. Fui eu quem carregou ela por nove meses, eu quem educou e criou nos últimos anos. Você não tem o direito de tirar ela de mim. 

— Ela também é minha. 

— Não é! — Apertou os lábios, deixando as lágrimas escorrerem. Pela primeira vez nas últimas horas, não encarei S/N com raiva. A mágoa estampada em seu rosto eram o suficiente para eu saber o quão difícil os últimos anos haviam sido. — Você não esteve aqui quando ela nasceu, não esteve nos primeiros passos, na primeira vez que ficou doente, quando disse a primeira palavra. Ela. não. é. sua.

— S/N. 

— Patrick é o pai dela. — Sua afirmação foi mais uma facada, acertada em cheio no meu coração. — Foi ele quem passou por todos esses momentos, foi ele quem se privou do sono, quem se dedicou e amou essa criança. Ele é o pai da Liz. 

Deixei mais uma vez que as lágrimas escorressem pelo meu rosto. Um soluço dolorido escapou. Ela estava certa, tempo demais me foi roubado. Eu estava ausente em cada uma das fases mais importantes da primeira infância da minha filha. 

— Eu não sabia. — Murmurei sem forças. — Por que não me procurou e disse pessoalmente? 

— Você estava na Tailândia. — Deu de ombros. — E depois daquelas mensagens, eu não quis mais te ver. Você não a merecia. 

— Eu juro que não fui eu. Acredita em mim. — Implorei.

— Pra quê? — Encarou os meus olhos. — Você vai voltar para a Coreia e nós vamos ficar aqui. Realmente faz diferença agora?

— Você não está falando sério. — Falei incrédulo. — Ela é minha filha, é claro que faz diferença! Quero ser presente na vida dela. 

— É tarde demais. 

— Não é. — Afirmei.

Liz se moveu na cama, chamando a nossa atenção para lá. Ficamos em silêncio por alguns segundos, mas ela permanecia em sono profundo.

— Acho melhor você ir. — Me encarou. — Eu preciso descansar, amanhã eu tenho que trabalhar. 

— Nós não terminamos a nossa conversa. 

— É um assunto que não vai dar em nada. — Enfiou as mãos nos bolsos traseiros da calça. — Logo você vai voltar para a sua vida de popstar e vai esquecer dela.

— Você sabe que isso não é verdade. 

— Será mesmo? 

— Eu vou descobrir o que aconteceu. — Afirmei. — Vou descobrir quem foi que mandou essas coisas horríveis e provar para você a verdade.

— Já não faz mais diferença, Jeon. — Suspirou. 

— Faz pra mim. — Encarei seus olhos. — Essa garotinha é minha filha, e eu vou lutar para ser o pai que ela merece. 

— Ela já tem um. — Repetiu a afirmação que me matava mais um pouco.

— Eu sou o pai dela. — S/N suspirou. — Que horas você sai do trabalho?

— Por que? 

— Quer ver a minha filha. 

— Precisamos conversar sobre isso antes. — Cruzou os braços. — Mas você pode vir às 20h. — Assenti, encarando o quarto da pequena uma última vez antes de sair do apartamento. 

Cheguei no hotel me sentindo mais cansado que o normal. Entrei no quarto, tentando assimilar as milhares de informações das últimas horas. Tomei um banho rápido e troquei de roupa, saindo para o corredor em direção a outro quarto. Dei duas batidas na porta, que logo foi aberta.

— Imaginei que viesse. — Hobi hyung suspirou, dando um passo para trás, me dando passagem. 

[squeaky-n-blushy]

i can't even find my own stuff in here with the search feature in my OWN BLOG, AND THERE'S BARELY ANYTHING TO BE FOUND, COME ON TUMBLR. SO

☁️ MASTERPOST ☁️

• Resident Evil Village

- Heart Beat (6.700 words, some Ler! Cassandra Dimitrescu, but mostly Ler!Lady Dimitrescu & Lee!Reader)

- Triple Threat (11.500 words, Ler!Bela Dimitrescu & Ler!Cassandra Dimitrescu & Ler!Daniela Dimitrescu & Lee!Reader)

- Ler!Bela Dimitrescu & Lee!Donna Beneviento drabble ("Can I tickle you?" prompt)

- Ler!Ethan Winters & Lee!Karl Heisenberg drabble

- Ler!Lady Dimitrescu & Lee!Reader drabble

• QSMP

- Catch. Release. Repeat. (16.400 words, Ler!Cellbit & Lee!Pac)

• Mo Dao Zu Shi

- Tenderness (8.300 words, Ler!Lan Wangji & Lee!Wei Wuxian)

[hey-i-am-trying]

Este é um aviso: se você quiser me bloquear, faça isso agora

Porque que se foda essa merda.

Todos os personagens brasileiros podem fazer o que quiserem

Eu não me importo, eles não estarão errados

Eles podem pregar peças, torturar, matar e sequestrar quem quiserem, seja jogador, ovo ou npc. Eu sorrirei e direi que eles estão certos.

Isso pode parecer extremo para você, mas eu já disse, bloqueie-me, não me importo

A situação com o Cellbit não foi uma coincidência, os brasileiros têm percebido que pessoas estavam tentando cavar tudo da vida dos ccs brasileiros para tentar justificar seu ódio, xenofobia e racismo. Sua ex só viu isso como uma oportunidade de espalhar mais ódio contra ele.

Bagi recebeu ódio por falar sobre suas opiniões e também recebeu um monte de comentários maldosos e xenófobos.

Pessoas não-brasileiras tentando usar a "polêmica" de Mike, ou seja, o fato de ele se recusar a ser amigo de um homofóbico e transfóbico declarado, para falar mal dele não foi uma coincidência.

As páginas brasileiras de Update da Mouse, da Bagi e do Tazercraft terem sido hackeadas não foi uma coincidência.

Os fãs brasileiros já estavam falando sobre como os xenófobos tentariam usar a menor coisa negativa para prejudicar nossos ccs.

Disseram-nos repetidamente que não tínhamos lugar nessa comunidade, e eu vi muitos desistirem, desistiram no arco eleitoral e muitos outros estão desistindo agora.

E eu entendo que as pessoas que aconselhem os fãs brasileiros a se mudarem para o Tumblr, mas isso não ajuda em nada. Em primeiro lugar, o QSMPblr é um espaço em inglês, sim, eu sei que há pessoas que não falam inglês como primeira língua aqui, eu sou uma delas e conheço muitas outras, mas vamos ser honestos, a tag principal é 99% em inglês, muitos brasileiros NÃO PODEM estar aqui porque não sabem escrever ou ler em inglês. Além disso, não deveríamos ser expulsos de um site porque outras pessoas estão sendo racistas CONOSCO.

Portanto, tomei minha decisão pessoal.

Se vou ser tratado como brasileira em primeiro lugar e como humano em segundo, é assim que vou agir.

Mike, Felps, Cellbit, Bagi, Pac, Richas e qualquer personagem brasileiro que for adicionado não farão nada de errado aos meus olhos.

O mesmo vale para qualquer personagem interpretado pelo Xandão (Alexandre a Capivara, Agente 18 e PomPom o Pinguim admin), porque, apesar de ser português, sei que os portuguesês sofreram xenofobia colateral por falarem a mesma língua que nós.

Não espero que os não-brasileiros entendam minha decisão, e estou passando do ponto de me importar, para ser honesta.

No fundo foi sempre brazuca por brazuca, e a gente já sabia disso

[natydrii]

QSMP Q!Cellbit x Reader/Leitor/Lector Neutro

Oi, oi, é a primeira vez que escrevo no Tumbrl normalmente eu sou mais a leitora anônima por aqui, porém com a chegada dos Brasileiros em QSMP e seus papeis dentro do server, eu me vejo na necessidade de contribuir com headcanons e outras coisas mais. Sou Brasileira então se você, pessoa de outra nacionalidade quiser ler algumas das histórias eu sugiro que baixe uma extensão Google Tradutor no seu navegador.

Vou escrever sobre o personagem Quackit também até porque ele é 1% pai do Richarlysson, então ele é 1% do Brasil.

Twitter da Artista - @Niiruh // https://twitter.com/Niiruh

Cellbit -

Linguagem de Amor -

A Linguagem de amor dele está mais para Atos de Serviços, basicamente ações, de maneira geral ele vai te considerar como uma pessoa com intelecto interessante e vai te querer por perto, seja para envolver em seus planos e teorias ou simplesmente para conhecer mais a fundo a sua pessoa.

Se o Richarlysson gostar de você, parabéns! Pontos ganhos com ele. Cellbit terá mais motivos para se aproximar, afinal ele não quer magoar o filho querido afastando ou desconfiando demais de qualquer estranho que venha aparecer, mas ele tem suas desconfianças ainda assim.

Você pode temer Cellbit por conta de seu passado como prisioneiro e os boatos que se tornam verdadeiros sobre ele ter matado um outro prisioneiro no qual tentava fugir junto de Pac e Mike, outros papais de Richarlysson, mas durante uma conversa que Cellbit teve com o seu filho, você vê ele mencionar que é necessário ser frio, sanguinário e incontrolável, manter as aparências importam mas que no fundo você ainda pode ser sentimental e possuir um coração mole, você foca em Richarlysson que pergunta “Tipo você Papai?” e Cellbit apenas concorda um pouco ruborizado e pede para que não falasse isso para ninguém.

Como ele fala “Eu te Amo” ou “Eu gosto de você” ?

Raramente você vai ouvi-lo dizer essas palavras, como sua linguagem de amor são Atos de Serviços, ele o fará de forma sutil e as vezes nem tão sutil assim, quando estiverem sozinhos claro, a principio se ele estiver caindo em uma paixão por você ele não admitirá a menos que você também dê brechas e insinuações que sente o mesmo,  não que ele esteja com medo da rejeição ou com ciúmes, Cellbit reconhece seu valor e seus dons então isso nunca passaria por sua cabeça. A principio ele te mantem por perto pela a desculpa de que “Para derrotar seus possíveis inimigos, mantenham eles por perto” até Richarlysson sabe que isso é apenas uma fachada, que no fundo o seu papai tem um grande coração só não o demonstra facilmente.

Se você estiver em perigo, pode ter certeza que foi ele mesmo que te colocou nisso apenas para aparecer como o herói e salvar o dia, se Richarlysson estiver em perigo e você correr para salva-lo Cellbit institivamente se sentirá mais próximo de você e te recompensará elogiando sua tomada de decisão, ficando com uma certa divida.

Convide-o para uma partida de campo minado, Xadrez, espalhe enigmas e apenas espere um cara fixado em resolvê-los e impressionar a sua pessoa.

Como ele age quando estão em publico?

Cellbit não vai ser carinhoso se estiverem no inicio de um relacionamento, mas isso não significa que ele não te ame, ele apenas se precaver muito quando se trata de seus companheiros de paternidade e conhecidos/amigos, ele te vê como uma pessoa que possui informações sobre ele, os outros pais e o resto do servidor então ter você por perto o mantem informado, além de você ser uma fonte de conhecimento você também é a fonte de amor dele, e obviamente ele não vai aceitar compartilhar.

Se estiverem á algum tempo juntos ele não terá receio de demonstrar afeto quando estiverem próximos dos outros pais de Richarlysson e nem de seu filho, mas vai relutar ao tentar ter algum contato com você quando outras pessoas estiverem perto como Maximus, Badboyhalo, foolish e entre outros, especialmente Quackity pois o considera suspeito apesar de ter concedido 1% de paternidade. Você se tornaria a fraqueza de Cellbit, que estaria dividido em continuar em frente sacrificando você como consequência e deixar apenas acontecer e permanecer com o plano no entanto isso o deixaria amargurado lá no fundo de sua consciência.

Como ele age quando estão á sos?

Se tiverem um tempo de relacionamento considerável, ele não hesitara em demonstrar carinho e nem tocar você, seu beijo de inicio pode ser agressivo e meio incerto, ele não vai falar com a boca durante seus momentos de afeto ele vai falar com os olhos enquanto estiverem a sós. Ele sabe bem como te causar calafrios, calafrios bons claro. Ele pode pender para um lado agressivo se algo o incomodou no dia, mas numa parte do tempo ele pode ser brincalhão para tirar a tensão que pode existir, ele adora pressionar você na cama, seja segurando seus pulsos ou apenas pegando sua nuca para dar-lhe um beijo em seguido de outro, dessa vez mais calmo e que perdura.

Ele não vai te machucar, ao menos que seja isso que queira, ele pode ter algumas fantasias na qual ele é o passivo de vez em quando, ver você tomar as rédeas o faria enlouquecer e seria algo imprevisível, mas ele não vai lhe dizer isso tão facilmente, você vai ter que testar em algum momento.

Se alguém os interromper ele ficará indignado, ao menos que seja urgente como a vida de Richarlysson estando em perigo ele não deixará você por nada, nem mesmo enigmas vão faze-lo sair de onde quer que vocês estejam em 4 paredes, sabe? Linguagem de amor, ações, então ele o fará.

A força não é muito atrativo para esse homem, não dizendo que ele seja fraco, pelo o contrário, ele gosta de jogos mentais e se ele souber que isso possa ser uma fraqueza sua ele vai usufruir disso muito bem, seja deixando você na vontade de um momento a sós ou deixar você vagar numa de suas fantasias mentalmente, ele é ótimo nisso.

Ele pede desculpas? Com que frequência?

Se você for do tipo carinhoso e ele não atender seus pedidos logo de cara, ele claramente vai notar que você ficou magoado mas se ele estiver ocupado com suas teorias e o seu grupinho de detetives não o espere, ele não vai deixar seus afazeres facilmente, mas pode esperar um pequeno arranjo de flores entregue por ele mesmo, é a forma como ele fala “Me desculpe” e pode esperar que ele sempre vai notar sua tristeza, afinal emoções para ele são fáceis de decodificar. Pode ser bem frequente, afinal ele sempre se vê ocupado e ele sabe que querendo ou não ele é a causa de sua tristeza, então pode separar um espaço em sua casa para muitos vasos vazios para guardar as flores que ele coletar no caminho de volta pra casa.

Ciúmes, desconfiança, rancor quão vulnerável ele pode ser?

Cellbit não é uma pessoa que vai se deixar levar por qualquer sentimento obsoleto, então não vai fazer cenas de ciúmes em publico nem mesmo drama, ele é bem realista e ele não mede suas palavras quando presencia algo que o deixa na corda bamba.

Se você ousar fazer ciúmes á ele, como beijar/abraçar/dormir com qualquer outro companheiro de paternidade como Pac, Mike, Felps, Forever e principalmente Quackity, ele queimará em chamas silenciosas, e se você o ver quieto e parecer relaxado por fora, apenas corra ou planeje muito bem sua próxima ação, essa cena/momento ficará para sempre em sua cabeça e ele guardará certo rancor, pior ficará se for Quackty o causador desses momentos de traição, provavelmente Cellbit vai adorar explodir certas casas.

Se você for pego com outro sem ser alguém do grupo, prepare-se para um confronto, não diretamente, mas ele o cercará e fara do ser um prisioneiro numa camada mais abaixa do seu escritório de detetive. Ele é muito bom em causar danos psicológicos e ele o fará.

Ele mente, trai muito facilmente?

Cellbit mente muito bem, essa sua natureza infame é herança de seu passado como prisioneiro, seus planos ardilosos de como manipular os outros ao redor ainda permanece como cicatriz que não vai se curar, ele fixará em sua mente que se ele mentiu é pela a proteção de sua família, que os meios justificam o fim.

Mesmo com isso em mente ele não é traíra, não completamente.  Ele mesmo lhe dirá que manter vínculos afetivos/amorosos requer esforço e que isso leva tempo, ele valoriza suas ações e não desperdiçaria seu esforço arranjando um/uma amante, afirmando que é uma pura perda de tempo precioso.

[cartooncadet666]

Original creator of template belongs to @butterpuffed

Sorry I didn't post this earlier, but school was catching up. That being said, the colors are based on what is CURRENTLY going on and not what will go on.

Pacster: The arrow says that Pac likes him (cause he looks and acts cool), but he doesn't like Pac. The reason for this was initially caused by Buttocks at first, he will start to like him later on in Old Friend AU, but for now, he just feels really uncomfortable around him.

Cylindria: She's neutral with Robin, but he merely doesn't like her because he thinks that her reasoning for most of her actions and words can be very questionable. (For example, S1-EP01, the Cyclops incident) Plus he sees her as annoying for now, again it does get better.

Spiral: Not much to say about him, Spiral was the first to meet Robin, and Robin's reasoning for appreciating Spiral than the other two is mainly because he feels more comfortable to be around, plus he's not as flawed as the other two.

Skeebo: OH NO! Seems that at a later date, Robin had fallen in love with this loser! What a tragedy! His reasoning for that affection is mainly just how Skeebo acts and is as a person, behind that regular jock mask. He's an absolute sweetheart but didn't want to show it, however Robin saw it and fell HARD. And it does get reciprocated, at a later date.

The Ghost Gang: They're all trouble makers to him, so he probably didn't want to meet them at this point.

Sir Cumference: LITERALLY LIKE A FUNKY GRANDPA TO HIM. He was skeptical at first, but after getting to know him, he really appreciates just how much he cares and listens to the heroes' needs. Sir C has the same feelings at first, but he now sees him as just a sweet kid probably in need of some assistance.

Fuzzbitz: He adores this little monster and is very grateful to meet him. Despite being a threat technically, the little creature can't seem to think he's dangerous by how kind he actually is.

President Spheros: He'd rather die than trust him.

Betrayus: After knowing what he's done and why Buttocks is working for him in the first place, he just grew livid and started to hate him ever since

Butt-ler: Robin can't help but think that he deserves better than to be down here, and he does. Robin is an invention Butt-ler didn't think would work and tried stopping his "evil twin" from creating him, but after seeing what his true purpose was, he considers him as just a good kid.

Dr. Buttocks: It may be a bit biased since he was the one that created Robin, but Robin knows who his creator actually is and it's not some evil scientist persona. He's a man who loves science and always wanted to create things, including things that could have the same experience as living. The doctor of course just ADORES that his creation is actually alive and doing his own thing, because hey, he gave him the chance to live, not to be trapped.

[kanene-yaaay]

The Cat and the Hare (I won't stop running so don't you stop trying to catch me)

Kanene's notes: EVERYONE WAKE UPPPP BECAUSE TODAY IS @squeaky-n-blushy 's BIRTHDAYYYYY and since she and I have a clown to clown communication and a lot of screaming around Pac and Cellbit I wanted to make a fic to celebrate this day and our friendship. Thanks a lot, bean, for being so cool!! <3 <3

And about the fic I am so Unwell about Pac and Cellbit's friendship like WHAT IS EVEN HAPPENING HERE YA KNOW??

Warnings: Uhh, I don't think there is any? There is a few mentions of hunting and prey but it's lighthearted and not too prevalent on the fic. Ticklish!Pac and Ler!Cellbit for the win. Around 8.000 words :D

[~*~]

Mike knows, of course. 

Sometimes Pac wondered if his soulmate was able to realize what was happening even before he himself did. It was one of the perks and pains of spending your entire life with someone who you could trust blindly with everything that could ever matter and who you knew as the palm of your own hand.

It was quite nice, most of the time. 

Except, of course, when Mike decided that he was going to be an insufferable prick about it.

“Não, não, não. Tá na hora de acabar com essa palhaçada.” (No, no, no. Time to end with this bullshit.) The annoyed shout was so out of nowhere that it almost made Pac fall from the roof of the Barbie house, turning to look at the other who was pointing at him with a hammer and seemed two seconds away from hitting him with it. “ ‘Fi, você vai lá falar com ele agora mesmo.” (Dude, you’re going to talk with him right now.)

Pac ignored how his cheeks already began prickling with heat, knowing in the same moment what the other was talking about. 

Shit, his feelings must have leaked through their soulbond.

“Qué que ‘cê tá falando, moço, tô sabendo desse negócio que ‘cê tá falando aí não uai.” (Whatcha ya talkin’ about, dude, don’t have any idea watcha you talkin about.)

“Num tá sabendo, é? Não tá sabendo, mas vai começar a saber agora e não adianta ficar me imitando não.” (Dunno, uh? You may not know but you’re going to start knowing right now and mimicking me won’t help you at all.)

Oof, he was with that determined look. There was no escaping for Pac in this one. Mike turned around, got a ladder and climbed it. He ignored the phantom feeling of bubbly giggles that definitely weren’t his began tickling the back of his throat joyfully. 

“Porque,” Mike continued. “Se eu tiver que ver o Cellbit mais uma vez e ficar com vontade de ficar dando risadinha que nem o nosso menininho, eu vou explodir esse Murder Mystery todo.” (Because, if I have to see Cellbit one more time and keep wanting to giggle like our little boy I’m going to blow up the entire Murder Mystery)

“Não, Mike!” (Mike, no!)

“ ‘Não, Mike’, nada! Eu vou, Pac. Vou explodir toda essa bagaceira aqui. Quer ver, hein? Quer ver?” (‘Mike, no’, my ass. I’m going to, Pac. I’m going to blow up all this clownery. Wanna see, huh, wanna see?)

“Explode aí então que eu quero ver. Bora, bora, que se dane já isso tudo!” (Yeah, blow it up, then, I wanna see. Let’s go, let’s go. To hell with all of this!)

Both of them stared at each other, Mike with the explosives on his hands and Pac with wide attentive eyes.

Silence passed like a lazy cat across them.

“Eu não, ‘cê tá louco, é? Mó trabalho que deu pra construir essa arena aqui e eu vou lá explodir ela agora.” (No, didya lost ya mind? So much work to build this arena, no way I’m blowin’ it up now.)

The one with blue hoodie crackled, muscles relaxing from being ready to sprint and steal all the tnt before his soulmate could use it in case it wasn’t a joke. Mike’s own laughter also followed his, getting closer until he was sitting by his side in a relaxed manner, green eyes watching him behind his crooked lens.

“Então, você quer que eu te faça cócegas?” (So, you want me to tickle you?)

His tune was nonchalant and Pac could literally feel how chill he was with his own words, perhaps even a little amused with the floating, excited butterflies that immediately appeared on their soulbond with his question.

The fact that Pac loved being tickled and to tickle his friends hadn’t been a secret between them for a long while, now. Had been discovered when they were just two little kids against the world in that orphanage and discussed in a late night whispered conversation in their first prototype of a laboratory. 

Mike knew that when, for some reason or not, he would suddenly get giddy, a little shy and a bunch more playful, carrying a giggle on the tip of his tongue and an electricity on his skin, it meant that Pac would love to get into a tickle fight or to become a mess of snickers as Mike kept sneaking the words ‘cócegas’ and ‘cosquinhas’ in their daily interactions and throwing at him one or two pokes of fun.

“Hm, quero dizer… você pode?” (Hm, I mean… you can?) 

He scratched the back of his head and avoided his eyes. The one wearing a green creeper shirt squinted at him. That wasn’t Pac usual “I’m feeling too embarrassed and silly but also excited to look at you right now”, it was more like his “uhhh, not sure how to say that you’re wrong uhhh.”

Mike sighed and crossed his arms. He was not going to move from there until this was solved and he knew Pac was fully aware of this by the way the other pouted in defeat. 

“Bora, fala logo, Pac.” (C’mon, spit it out, Pac.)

“Você lembra de semana passada, quando o Roier e o Cellbit estavam esperando pela gente na Ordo Theoritas?” (Remember last week when Roier and Cellbit were waiting for us in Ordo Theoritas?)

Mike tried to. Cellbit was a solid part of his family - even if he would have no qualms in immediately calling him out of his bullshit if he showed even a trace of coming back to that asshole he was on the prison - and he really liked Roier a lot but those two were so insufferably in love and happily married when they were together that it was hard to not roll his eyes at it. I mean, he gets it! He was too happily married but you wouldn’t see him around the Spawn or the entire island getting all lovey doey with Mine at every second of their day.

(The fact that Mine was a goodness and that their connection had been difficult and faulty since the first day they got stuck on the island was simply a detail and no, he didn’t want to talk about it.) 

Last week has been when the detective found some interesting information in an old abandoned laboratory of the Federation and called everyone for a meeting since it looked like it had potential to be about the eggs or the codes, if Mike wasn’t mistaken. Since he and Pac were around the Favela finishing some buildings at the time, they were the first to get there, finding the meeting room being already occupied by Cellbit and Roier in the middle of a tickle fight, - probably a started by Roier but which Cellbit was clearly winning - probably because they weren’t expecting anyone to appear so soon but also seemed to be too lost in their own silliness to even listen to the sound of the elevator or them arriving.

Mike just loudly complained and threw a few grinning teases at them, not thinking too much about it. Albeit, as it seems, that had been enough to bring Pac’s lee mood back to life.

“Lembrei.” (I remember.) 

They looked at each other. Since his hands wouldn’t be necessary, the one with permanently crooked glasses started messing around with the redstone system of the house, trying to fix it for the sixth time. “Bem, isso explica porque é sempre o Cellbit, então. ‘Cê vai pedir pra ele?” (Well, that explains why it’s always Cellbit, then. Are you going to ask him?)

Pac grumbled and flooped on the roof. “Não dá, eu já tentei. Fui tentar puxar uma guerra de cosquinha perto dele com o Richas mas eu travei e no fim eles foram embora. Eu não consigo, Mike, eu não consigo!” (I can’t, I already tried. I tried to start a tickle war next to him with Richas but I froze and in the end they went away. I can’t, Mike, I can’t!)

“Mas tu tem que tomar coragem, Pac. Tem que ir lá e falar mesmo. Se fosse eu, eu falava!” (But you need to be braver, Pac! Gotta get there and ask. If it was me, I would ask.)

“Falava é? Porque eu me lembro muito bem do seu primeiro encontro com a Mine…” (You would, yeah? Because I remember very well about your and Mine’s first date…) Pac’s laughter quickly transformed into a shout when the other pushed him, making him roll across the titles for a few centimeters before stopping. “Tu vai me jogar, homi! Tá doido, é?” (You’re going to make me fall, man! Are you crazy?)

“Sempre fui, sempre fui.” (Always have been. Always have been.)

They chuckled and, in between shoves and jokes, went back to their construction. 

Pac thought that the subject had ended there, then, that he would eventually get over his mood and continue his life. But he should’ve known that Mike was too annoying (caring) to let it go.

That was how he ended up like this.

Pac looked up, looking at those brown eyes shine back at him with a mischievous light. He squirmed a bit, but soon it was clear that he was totally trapped on the couch by the investigator’s body, who kept watching his expressions with curiosity and a hint of something else.

(It was hunger. Pac would recognize that glint anywhere.)

The scientist could feel each heartbeat in his chest and every butterfly flying on his stomach, small bolts of electricity scurrying away from his trapped wrist, fingertips twisting, almost being able to touch the sparkles in the air.

“Pac,” there were moments when Cellbit slipped and let one or two of his feline traits escape from his firmly constructed barrier. This time, it was in the way that his voice curled around his name, in a mix of a pleased purring and a warning growl that made a zing shot through his spine. “There’s no need to look so worried, I think you just didn't listen to my question very well in the first time… What is the code, Pac?”

If he wasn’t looking at his friend, he would’ve lost it, but the question was exactly what it looked like: an escape route. It was in the way that the hold of his right wrist loosened a little and how those brown eyes ran across his face - searching, poking, prodding, wanting to know - on the look for any trace of discomfort or fear, getting ready to jump away in the same second if he found anything. Pac was sure that he could just spill the eight numbers he knew by heart and then Cellbit would immediately get up, open the security door to the last phase of their puzzle and let him free to go.

Simple like that.

Quite boring, if he was being honest.

Pac grinned before letting his head fall slightly to the side, brows furrowing in a perfect confused face, voice light and just a tad too innocent.

(He wasn’t really afraid.)

(Cellbit could show himself to be as strong and ruthless as he wanted. Pac always had been the fastest one.)

(Just one of them had been able to get out of Alcatraz after all.)

“ Code? W-what are you talking about, Cellbit? I don’t know any code.” 

“The specific numbers that will open the door and let me finally get to the bottom of the mystery that I’ve been puzzling out for one entire week. That code, Pac.”

A small shudder took over his body, whether it was for the lack of his hoodie or the hand that suddenly came to dangerously rest on his side, it wasn’t clear. A wobbly smile blossomed in his face. 

That reaction didn’t go unnoticed by the other.

“Uhhh…” Pac pursed and popped his lips, resting his head on the cushions and looking at the ceiling, gaze quickly jumping across the room in a nervous manner. He still could feel those glimmering eyes on him. “I don’t really know any code.”

The fingers began curling on his side, short nails barely scratching the skin, he bit his lower lip.

“You sure?”

(Can I?)

“Y-yeah! I d-don’t even know what you’re talking about, moço. Just saw a sign that said ‘Free Food’ and got in the warplate and boom! Suddenly I’m here with you. We’re both kind of stuck here, you know?” His gaze went back to focus on the other, refusing with all his might to even acknowledge the twitching hand on his side that kept bringing awful tingles and freaking out the butterflies on his belly. 

He continued the rest of his sentence in one quick breath.

“It’s not like I am part of the puzzle and was asked to guard the secret code that could lead you to finally getting your final prize since it’s the end of the investigation and deciding to not give it to you. That would be totally crazy. I would never do that. Never, ever, in one billion years. Nuh uh. Nunquinha.”

Cellbit’s left eye trembled in a signal of poorly disguised stress. Bad and Bagi had the same habit. It was quite funny to see.

Pac jumped when the touch suddenly got firmer and a pinch was delivered on his torso. A high pitched squeak quickly scrambled from his lips before he could stop it.

Having already gotten the reaction that he wanted, Cellbit showed him a smile.

Oh no, he was absolutely screwed.

“Alright, Pac. I believe in what you’re saying. You’re part of the family so you would never lie to me, would you?”

The scientist watched as Cellbit’s hand lifted up from its spot on his side and began going upwards, slowly crawling along his torso until it stopped on his forearm, tracing on his skin as the other hand kept his arm all trapped and nice above his head.

His fingertips started dancing and scribbling on the spot, following the goosebumps that tried to run away from the tickles, spreading across his nerves and obliging Pac to firmly press his lips in a thin line, giggles getting ready to jump out at any chance on the tip of his tongue.

The investigator cleaned his throat, calling his attention once again and holding it with analytical eyes. His voice came out rough, slow, savoring every word. “Would you, Pac?”

Pac was glad that he didn’t even try to open his mouth to answer him because, as soon as the sentence was over, those fingers began scribbling on the senseless, ticklish spot that was his inner elbow, nails scraping and fingertips tapping in an absurdly light and soft manner, making a muffled ‘eee’ sound to be present in the back of his throat.

He remembered that he had an answer to give.

“Nuh huh.” He shook his head twice, holding his breath to not let any other reaction escape. 

“Ok.”

Eventually, Pac had to look away from him again. He could almost feel how Cellbit kept mapping out the exact points where his smile got bigger and his arm squirmed everytime another unexpected tickle spot was found so he could come back to it later. The tapping continued its way across his biceps, drawing abstract forms on it, taking its sweet to collect all the muffled titters and small twitches before going to the next one. With each step the curious hand got closer and closer to his torso. 

His attempt to not look at his demise proved to be fool and only made him lose the way that the investigator’s smirk grew wider at each one of his reactions, fingers momentarily spasming in a desire to dig - quick, ruthless and precise - on any and every ticklish spot again and again and again until he could rip that sweet, precious laughter from his stubborn friend-prey-Pac-fun and make it ring loud and free around the room. Until his protests were so intertwined with snickers and snorts that they would be too lost and make no sense at all. Until he was so high in laughter and giddy with the tickling that he wouldn’t even be able to think about hiding his smile and blush - which, by the way, had already begun consuming his neck in a lovely, lovely way - on his hoodie as usual.

He wanted to discover every sound that he would make and drink on every variation of his laughter, from the lowest chortle to the highest squeal. And, especially, he wanted to purr and tease him about how, even with all the chances, Pac didn’t even try to move his free hand to stop him and was instead watching his every move with those wide excited, joyful eyes.

But no. Cellbit needs to be patient. He needs to first cultivate every giggle, snicker and titter until they were too strong to be stopped and then, after weakening his every barrier so they would finally crumble at the lightest breeze and finally come tumbling down with just the hint of his moving fingers anywhere near him and his ticklish - so, so wonderfully vulnerable and ticklish - spots. 

Cellbit could be really good at that. Being patient. Stalking. Watching. Finding openings that could be explored.

(It has been a while since he and Pac had time to play like this.)

The traces and drawed forms continued until he got to his armpit and rested there. Tapping. Tapping. Tapping.

At this point Pac already felt like jumping out of his skin at every touch. He was torn between watching his slow and inevitable destruction or closing his eyes and then be bombarded by his own creative mind about all the different ways that his friend could tickle him right now. How he could simply give up from calmly teasing and prying his puffed squeaks or bitten gasps at any moment and just drum his fingers on his pit, maybe pull a surprise attack to his ribs or even keep the slow spidering until Pac felt so ticklish that a single wiggling finger would make him descend in immediate full belly laughter with minimal effort.

Cellbit’s next words were fast to pull him from his thoughts.

“Where is your worst spot, Pac?”

It was getting old, but once again Pac just shook his head.

“What? You don’t have one? Or you don’t want to tell me where is it?” The hands started swirling, creating spirals that went from the inside to the outside of his armpit. Cellbit watched in true amazement how such a soft touch made the other’s cheeks puff with the amount of squeals he was holding, his arm now trembling in his grip. “You know… I’m feeling like you’re hiding a few secrets from me. Are you, Pac?”

It took every single ounce of will from him, but the scientist pushed every and any giggle deep down so he would not look completely silly when the sentence left out  his mouth, not really thinking too much about it.

“Aren’t you our Favela’s detective? Why don’t you find out?”

Cellbit froze, just like Pac’s breath when he realized what he just said.

However, it was too late.

“I am joking! I am joking!” He shouted, watching with a wide stare as the other chuckled in delight at his answer. Low and dangerous. Always ready for a good, fun challenge. “You know how it is! Dumb Pac just being dumb again!”

“You’re not dumb.” Cellbit frowned, but it disappeared as soon as it came, a determined, amused expression taking over his face once again. “That’s fair enough, I think. So, what about we make a deal? I will discover your worst tickle spot and then destroy it with tickles until you give me the code to finish my puzzle.”

The swirling was back once again. Soft, unbearable, light and impossible to ignore.

“Deal?”

“...Deal.”

The detective rolled his shoulders and neck, as if preparing for a battle. “Perfect.”

A quick, small tweak on his armpit ripped a surprised snort from his mouth, which immediately made the scientist’s free hand fly to hide it, not expecting the sudden tickling nor the sound. 

“Careful there, bonitinho. Don’t go spilling everything already. I would hate for our game to end so soon.”

His hand went back to spidering, teasing the armpit for a few more seconds before going down to his ribs, scratching and watching as Pac turned his face around, pressing it firmly on his own shoulder, the blush fastly consuming more and more of him.

There was this horrible spot in that space between his back and ribs. Mike found it when they were kids and Pac didn’t know why, but it tickled like hell, so, in the very second that Cellbit’s fingers did as much as faintly graze it, his body immediately rolled away in an attempt to hide it. 

Cellbit’s eyes shone and he wormed his hand between the cushions and his torso, legs firmly preventing him from trying to roll even more as curious pokes assaulted the spot, making him arch his back and trash back to the other side, shoulders bouncing with trapped laughter. This didn’t stop the investigator from scribbling closely by the spot, no longer prodding or actually tickling it, just testing his reactions by tracing his nails carefully around and in an X over it. As if he was marking it for future reference. 

“One.” 

The way that the whisper echoed in Pac’s mind did not resonate with how calmly and low it was said. Before he could think too much about its meaning, however, another question quickly followed it.

“Do you know how many ribs there are in the human body?” 

The scientist, a very skilled profissional able to create the wildest substances and built the craziest buildings, actually blamed how giddy and distracted by the tickling he was for his answer. 

“Twelve!”

“Pffft!”

The investigator’s surprised wheeze filled the room and suddenly Pac knew that he would never be able to live this down for the next years, Cellbit’s entire face opening in a feral joy as if Pac just gave him an early birthday gift.

“Exactly. That is the correct answer. Twelve.” He replied, clearly trying to not laugh and putting on a serious face, again. He let go of his wrist. “Why don’t we count it together now, so we can confirm how right you are?” 

Before Pac could answer, Cellbit pressed his fingers, two in each side, on his highest ribs and tased. 

Maybe it was the teasing. Maybe it was how much sensitive his skin felt after so many minutes of light touches and soft tickles or how the sudden series of ticklish shocks ran fastly across his every nerve. Maybe it was the way his entire torso now seemed to be just one giant tickle spot. However, that move made Pac slam his hands to hold on Cellbit’s shoulders so his arms wouldn’t come and pin the attacking, tickly fingers against his body.

That only made Cellbit double his efforts to make him laugh, teases immediately permating Pac’s mind.

“Afraid of trapping my fingers here, bonitinho? Why? You’re not even really trying to stop me. Don’t you want them to keep tickling and tickling and tickling your ribs? Right in that delicious spot right here?” Cellbit pressed, buzzing taking over his senses and filling his lungs with uncontrollable crackles that made his torso shake with the force to contain them, wiggling non stop from one side to another and legs flailing around, all which only seemed to reinforce Cellbit’s determination. 

“No way! Is it really that ticklish, Pac? Tell me, is my hunt already over, huh? Did I already find your worst ticklish spot or are you just pretending to stop me from going looking for more? I wonder if all the other spots will be as bad as this one… But that is fine. It only means that we will have to stay here for hours and hours, experimenting and comparing every single one of them until we can finally decide which one is the worst. Unless you decide to tell me. That will make things go so much faster, don’t you think?”

He went to his next rib, giving it the same amount of attention and care as the previous one, scratches pursuing the entirety of the bone, tasing targeting the spaces in between them, quick scribbles concentrating on the places that made his kick his legs harder in a way to expel all the adrenaline racing across his cells, tiny squeals pushing against his lips with fervor.

“Or maybe you’re just that ticklish. A ticklish, little gigglebug. So, so sensitive and yet you still came and walked so wingfully right to my… claws.” The last part came out as an almost whisper, his sentence growing lower and lower to the end.

Pac didn’t mean to, but in that moment Cellbit jumped to his third rib and his barrier broke. Loud, crackling laughter exploding from his mouth in a melody that took over the entire room in the very same second, drowning every other sound and making Cellbit almost lose his concentration, tickling faltering for half moment as he was hit with… everything. 

With how big Pac’s smile was and how his blush seemed to climb over his neck and ears to pool on his face, how he threw his head backwards when he laughed and the fact that he was actually right because the scientist was too concentrated on the tickle attack and on keeping his hands locked on his shoulder that, for once, he didn’t even try to cover his face. 

Cellbit felt himself in a kind of a daze as he kept tickling his loud-friend-prey-fun-fun-fun! Each spot receiving all the scribbling and buzzing before he jumped to another, watching as Pac grew crazier and crazier with each second. 

His laughter didn’t necessarily get louder, but it took a turn from the wheezy, high pitched, hysterical crackles on the highest ribs to a much more uncontrollable giggling the lower he went. 

Pac squirmed and arched his back, a move that only managed to give Cellbit much more places to work with. He successfully got a few snorts and squeals when that happened and he took the opportunity to worm his hands under his black shirt and spider them on his lower back, making the scientist slam his back again on the couch and bring the tickling back to his ribs, which would then make him kick and wiggle again until another chance to attack his back would appear and Cellbit would gladly take it.

And he. kept. his hands. on his shoulders.

It took everything from him, Pac was sure, but he kept his grip firm, his mind being totally taken over by how much it tickled and everything else all at once. The dance and wiggling happening across his torso, the smug smirk on Cellbit’s face, the awe that took over his brown eyes when he began laughing, the prickle of heat on his warm cheeks and even the light touch of his own hair on his neck that kept sending silly, funny tingles through his nerves to his soul, leading the giggles to get giddier and his snickers to become more present in his laughter. 

When the detective got to his lower ribs, light pinching and then drumming his fingers there, between the unintelligible words that fell like waterfall from his lips Pac was able to push a single giggly plea amidst his senseless protests.

“Cellbit!”

The other immediately froze. Pac took the opportunity to take big gulps of air, trying and failing in not succumbing into more laughing fits during the process. 

At the second time that the scientist tried for the second to recompose himself and fell into more giggling Cellbit’s fingers twitched, wanting to make that sound ring once more across the room. Still, he didn’t go back to tickling him, aware that his friend indeed was a common human who needed plenty of oxygen to survive. 

He blinked and realized that his own grin was almost as big as his prey- Pac. As Pac’s grin was.

(He didn’t run away. He didn’t stop him. He didn’t fight back. Or shouted. Or hated him. He just laughed and laughed and laughed and Cellbit was the main reason for that. For that smile. Those excited eyes watching him right now. The joy. Even if it was a bit artificial, he was the one who did it.)

(He wasn’t quite sure what he would be able to do just to listen to his name being laughed out loud as this again.)

(He was… happy.)

Pac startled when another sound followed the last of his dying giggles. It was a low, almost inaudible, rumbling purr which, if it wasn’t the light feeling of trembling on Cellbit’s shoulders, he would never ever realize that it was coming from his friend. 

Before his brain could properly process this and then conjure a proper comment that could or not be a poke of fun - discreet enough that it wouldn’t be clear if he actually was talking about Cellbit’s feline traits or something else, - the detective voice cut the silence.

“Puts, would you look at that.” The feeling of the fingers crawling right back the top of his ribcage made him chortle and squirm, the tip of his fingers barely scraping his armpits. “I lost the count. Seems like we will have to start all over again, Pac. I need to keep up my part of the deal, afterall.”

“Espera!” (Wait!)

“One, two, three…”

He didn’t even try to stop his laughter this time, letting it fall from his lips freely. By the moment the counting ended he was already hysterically giggling just with the feeling of the other’s hands resting on his sides without moving, thumbs rubbing firm circles on his skin in a comforting manner that both made him want to melt and also kept a couple of stray snickers filling the air with the phantom tickles as he once again calmed down.

Pac stared at Cellbit’s brown eyes. There was something different there. Like, literally. But he couldn’t exactly purpoint what.

“Two.” 

Another whisper. 

Pac tensed, expecting another round of ‘counting your ribs’, although this time in an anatomically correct friendly version (how they got to the result that twelve was the actual correct answer a few seconds ago was a complete mystery to him since he was clearly very occupied dying in crackles) but the thumbs continued with their soft ministrations until he was back to melting, a low huff of laughter (and purring, however it seems like they’re both pretending to ignore that) leaving Cellbit’s mouth.

His fingertips began scribbling on the spot, fingers sometimes slipping under his shirt to scratch at the dip of his hips or on his trembling belly, making sharp intakes of breath to take over him as the scientist let go of the other’s shoulders to muffle his reactions, covering his face entirely. 

“Just laugh already, Pac. We both know you want to.” 

Cellbit began poking his sides, realizing that there was a lovely weak spot extremely close to his back that made Pac yelp and jump when he passed through it. So he took his sweet time to explore it, watching as a single poke on his right would make him trash to the left, where clawing fingers would be ready to excitedly squeeze his unprotected side over and over and over again until Pac eventually was able to squirm out of it and come right back to the soft, unbearable tickling of his other hand. His reactions dropped from kicking to shaking his head in protest as he kept holding all his titters and laughter inside, each second getting closer to break.

It was fine, though, Cellbit could wait.

Even so, he squinted his eyes at the other’s covered face, being prived from watching the moments when his mouth would become a straight line as he discovered a new tickly spot or how his eyes would instinctively close when his laughter grew stronger or how his smile increased when Cellbit would unexpectedly changed techniques, analyzing which one brought better results. The detective huffed in annoyment - Roier would call it pouting, but he wasn’t here so he was wrong - and added some more tweaks on Pac’s sides in protest, sulking way less when more and more muffled squeaks began appearing with each second. 

He didn’t want to exactly pry Pac’s hands from where they were, especially because he would have to stop his attack for that and there just would be no fun in that. His prey-friend-family-joy was so, so close to laughing it out.

Although…

Having his eyes covered could prove to be a good opportunity for a surprise. 

Cellbit began lowering his head, getting closer to the other’s extremely red ear, being careful to not let his beard tickle his neck - not yet, at least - to not alarm Pac of his plan. He made sure his voice had the lowest and roughest tune that he could make, letting his breath hit the skin freely.

“There is no reason for you to hold back your reactions like this from me, gigglebug. Besides, I mean, I thought we both felt the same about prisons and keeping stuff trapped, don’t we?” 

Pac, honest to god, shrieked when he not only heard but actually felt how close Cellbit was, scrunching his neck in an attempt to make the buzzing tingles disappear, unsuccessfully. 

“Well, then I guess I have no other option if you’re just going to try to keep all your snorts and hysterical snickers stuck inside when they should be free to rummage around. What is that phrase you and Mike are always saying, again?”

Pac finally gave up from trying to stop the other from talking so close to his ear and let go of his face to push him away, shiny eyes opening to stare at the huge, smug smirk on the detective’s face. 

He didn’t know exactly why until a movement caught his gaze.

Cellbit’s hand was hovering right above him, slowly clawing as it lowered in the direction of his quivering belly. Senseless protests and pleas began stumbling in flocks from him, the scientist attempting with all his might to suck in his stomach so he wouldn’t immediately and ultimately die and still hold his giggles as much as he could.

“Wait, I remember, now!” The hand dug on his belly. “There is no impossible escape.”

Screeching laughter filled the entire space and seemed to only fuel’s the tickling more, Cellbit’s other hand joining the fun to drum on every single patch of skin available, scratching and poking fingers immediately unlocking all loud snorts and chortles as they unmercifully prodded and wiggled inside his bellybutton, adding even more to his laughter. 

“There we are, bonitinho!” Cellbit’s happy shout probably held far too much pride for someone who managed to win such a childish challenge. But he didn’t care, immediately drinking the other’s reactions and comparing how different was Pac’s laughter when he tickled his belly - lower, less hysterical but seemingly stronger -  from when he decided to shove his hands on his armpits and dig - higher, fast and wheezy. How his fast kicking became a dance of squirming when he went from his ribcage to his sides and how much relaxed the grip on his shoulders became - even if his face got much redder - when he went right back at attacking his neck and elbows with light scribbles. Or even how he instinctively descended into a silent laughter, full of hiccups and squeaks, everytime Cellbit targeted one of the sweet spots he mapped on his torso. 

“Which one tickles more, Pac? When I attack your absurdly ticklish armpits” To help him to choose, Cellbit decided to demonstrate his question and scribble said spot, making Pac’s arms immediately slam down and a snickering fit to take place. “Or your very sensitive belly?” His adjectives were promptly proven true when he began clawing his stomach, inspiring more melodious laughter to appear.

“I don’t know! I don’t know!”

The other chuckled. 

“You don’t know? Well, I’m sure you will be able to figure it out, eventually.” He lowered his head again, no longer stopping his beard from tickling the poor unprotected neck. A squeal was ripped from Pac’s throat and another attempt to hide his ear by squeezing it on his own shoulder was made. It only made the detective change from side to side, though, having way too much fun to be so easily dissuaded. “Don’t worry about it, though, we can stay here for as long as you want. For hours and hours, if needed, testing every spot, every technique, every tease until you can finally decide.”

Pac shook his head and let out some more senseless pleas in protest, too lost in his own laughter to even begin to properly respond. He rolled to his side, forcing Cellbit to go back to an upwards position, not without purposely rubbing his beard behind his ears and neck, and for a moment his lips parted, preparing to-

(No.)

With all the squirming his loose shirt moved enough to show some skin and Cellbit didn’t really think too much before skittering his fingers on the patch of his back again.

Pac yelped and slammed back on the cushions, quickly turning around and holding, a childlike, high pitched giggling flying freely from his lips.

Cellbit immediately froze.

(He didn’t try to stop him until now.)

“Wait, wait, Cellbit!” 

The sentence was left incomplete as Pac snickered, bringing his hands (him) closer to his chest, still giggling even if the tickling had already stopped, eyes closed and smile going from one ear to another. 

He looked relaxed. Content.

Cellbit furrowed his eyebrows. He already discovered the answer for his part of the deal. Pac’s worst spot was clear as any white shirt washed with a good dose of peroxide after a hard day, but there had been little funny details in his friend’s actions that pointed directly to one direction. That last reaction being his main hint.

Oh.

Cellbit gets it, now.

“Your worst spot isn’t your favorite one, right? That’s your back.”

Wide, expectant and excited, black eyes found his and something clicked just right in Cellbit’s brain. A predatory grin suppressed his previous thoughtful expression. 

Pac didn’t deny it.

They were still in the game.

Pac was just so fun.

“Pac, Pac, Pac…” He tsks. “So you were actually hiding stuff from me.”

Easily freeing his hands from the loose grip, Cellbit observed as the scientist automatically began losing himself in sniggers, not even batting an eye when uncoordinated hands tried to grab his wrists again. He had an idea.

Pac yelped when two strong arms came and hugged him, all his protests coming to a halt with the sudden mix of soft embrace and firm restrain, leaving him frozen in confusion. The cushion at his side dipped as Cellbit put his weight on it and even if Pac’s brain began running a mile per hour he couldn’t get what his plan was here. 

With a swift turn Cellbit lifted him from the sofa and rolled, his moves fast and precise - even if still a little clumsy, by the way that the detective let out a ‘oof’ sound when they fell back on the cushions and he hit the furniture, - successfully exchanging his position with Pac and, which is even more remarkable as the fingers that lightly pressed on the lovely space between his shoulderblades reminded him: leaving his entire back unprotected and open for any kind of silly, tickly attack.

“Gotcha, gigglebug.”

One hand began quickly scratching his neck as the other one skittered across his spine, wiggling on every bone until it reached his lower back, pinches, scribbles and scratches joyfully attacking the sensitive spot, exploring every part of it and immediately making his giggling grow up to a notch.

Pac shoved his face on the other’s neck, shoulders bouncing with each laughter as tiny sparks of electricity seemed to follow every one of Cellbit’s touches as they tickled and teased every and any available spot of his back, successfully trapping him in a mix of childlike, high pitched laughter and wheezy chuckles. It was a little maddening how all his muscles seemed to relax with the soft tickles as his fingertips lightly ran across his back only to instantly jump with jolts and surprised squeaks as a sudden poke or tazing was delivered right on the back of his ribs or on in between shoulderblades, increasing his laughter and pulling more and more snorts for a few seconds, just when the comforting touch would to come and take over again.

It was the most amazing, unbearable, awful, joyful trap he could imagine. Being locked on Cellbit’s firm yet gentle embrace, adrenaline running hot on his veins as the feeling of safe but in danger made all the sirens in his mind scream and a warm feeling of trust to pool into his soul. The way that he was unable to actively defend his favorite spot - how did Cellbit even discover it so quickly? - without giving his friend free access to more other places he could attck, but also knowing that just holding his hands would immediately stop him made Pac let himself go and giggle and snicker hysterically non stop. 

Not to mention the literal feeling of the motor-like purr that was still present and also seemed to tickle him, his skin still feeling way too ticklish for all that buzzing. Especially since it seemed to only grow stronger every time that a special prodding on the base of his or a spidering on his upper back made him hug the detective closer.

Besides, Pac didn’t quite realize it, but with every hug he pressed his face more and more on Cellbit’s neck, his huffs and puffs of laughter resulting in shivers and wobbly smiles to escape from the detective as well.

They kept up that song and dance for a few more minutes until Cellbit got content after fishing all the wheezes, snorts, squeals and laughter he had stored, settling to massaging the nape of his neck as he calmed down. Still delivering one or two soft scribbles on the back of his ears from time to time to prevent him from falling asleep on top of him. Cellbit is still a very happily married man, afterall.

“Still alive there, dude?” 

No answer. Cellbit began blinking quickly, suddenly realizing that the room seemed much more illuminated and detailed than when he first walked in, his mind instantly going back to focus on the enigma he was after now that the chase-hunt-play was over. 

I mean, their deal. 

(Where did that come from?)

“What is the code?”

Silence.

“Pac?”

Said one lifted himself from the hug, a giant smile on his face and a few unshed tears glistering in the corner of his eyes. 

He suddenly wheezed when their eyes found each other, not expecting at all to see the full blown wide cat pupils staring right back at him. 

The confused expression on Cellbit’s face only grew bigger as he continued to blink non stop, probably bothered by the light.

“Pfffff, me dá uns minutinhos aí, moço. A cat just got my tongue.” (Give me a few more minutes, bro.)

And then he immediately jumped away from the couch before the meaning of his words could fully sink in the other’s brain. He felt way too giddy after all the fun and playful tickles, with wobbly steps and gleeful chuckles twirling in the air.

“Pactw…” The underlying warning in his tone - together with a hunt-warn-catch thrill and, oh. my. god. Pac needed to tell this to the others like right now - made Pac yelp and hold his hands in rendition, lowering himself in what could be a preparation to run away or an attempt to look smaller. 

“40028922!”

Cellbit kept staring at him, squinted eyes analyzing his every move and expression as usual. Sometimes Pac wondered what he found when he did this.

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not! That is really the code and by the way I don’t have anything to do with it! They just told me to keep it.” As the other continued to look at him in disbelief, he started doing the orange justice dance, singing. “40028922 é o funk do Yudi que vai dar Playstation 2.” (40028922, it’s Yudi’s funk that will give you a Playstation 2)

Eventually, the detective got up from the couch and walked to the door, putting the numbers and watching it with one trembling eyebrow as the door opened effortlessly. He pinched his nose bridge with a groan and an amused huff. Knowing his luck, Cellbit should’ve expected something like that.

However, he quickly straightened his posture, combing his hair with his fingers and adjusting his coat. That was it. The last piece of the puzzle. The final level. He had no more time for playing around.

“Ok. Thank you very much for your cooperation and… trust, Pac. I appreciate it a lot. We make a good team when we work together.” He hesitated before stepping forward and didn’t quite look back, but Pac could feel those piercing brown eyes on him. “I know we were just joking but…You’re a good ally. You and Mike both. Hope we can keep fighting side by side in the future.”

“Y-yeah, of course! The Favela sticks together forever, right?”

“...Yes. We’re family. That is what we do.” Cellbit nodded and Pac mirrored him, even if the other was already getting inside the other room.

That was cool. 

Dramatic. 

But cool.

Pac was in the middle of sending Roier a message saying that Cellbit was heading in his direction when a thought went right through his brain, making him freeze.

“Wait.” He said out loud, looking behind to face the robot green rats that always followed him and Mike around. “Mike told him that this was like Roier’s idea and not some enigma left by the Federation, yeah?” 

He began biting his nails, thinking about all the steps and parties involved in this surprise that Roier wanted to give to his husband as a gift. He wasn’t the only one invited to participate in it. Mike, Bagi, Philza, Baghera, Badboyhalo… “I mean, someone must have warned him, right?”

The rat shrugged. 

Pac snorted, hand flying to his mouth before his wheezes could catch his friend’s attention and make him come back, quickly getting out of the place before Cellbit realized what he was really walking into.

(In the distance, he was almost sure that he heard a surprised shout followed by one laughter that, at this point, he already knew very well. But sometimes a good gossiper needs to know when to die for a fofoca and when to run away with half of it.)

(He needed to go tell everything to Fit first, afterall.)

[~*~] Fun facts!

The first part with Pac and Mike is inspirated in that bit they have going on where Pac mimics Mike's accent and in turn Mike makes it thicker and talks faster and they just keep it going on! They also use it when they want to do something illegal (like escape from the prision on the latest event) so the translator won't catch exactly what they're saying

40028922 is a very known number in Brazil because it was a phone number used to participate in a kid TV Show and one of the hosts had this jingle where he would sing song it and say that you would get a Playstation 2. It's so known that using it as a secret code it's a bit like... rick rolling the person.

It's not made very clear but this is kind of inspired by @squeaky-n-blushy 's tags on my guapoduo tickle hc and Cellbit is actually walking directly to the end of a puzzle made by Roier as a gift where his prize are tickles :D Yay!!

[trayusss]

Can you tell that i drew this without looking at a reference

[urlocalbowserfangirl]

PMATGA Headcanons: Sexualities

-----------------------------------------

Pac (Pac-Man or Pacster): Bisexual

Spiral: Non-Binary

Cylindria: Lesbian

Sir Cumference: Straight

President Spheros: Gay Rotunda Spheros: Straight

Spheria Suprema: Straight

Skeebo: Aromantic

Sherri (Braces) Strictler: Genderfluid

Elliptica Spheros: Bisexual

Zac: Straight

Sunny: Straight

Sydney Lee Miller: Bisexual

Lord Betrayus: Bisexual

Blinky: Intersex

Inky: Non-Binary

Pinky: Pansexual

Clyde: Bigender

Dr. Buttocks: Transgender

Butt-ler: Gay

Specter: Gay

Apex: Gay

Professor Pointybrains: Straight

Tip: Straight ally

Mayumi (Sydney's older sister): Straight ally

Quinn (Sydney's younger sister) : Straight

Kenzo: (Sydney's baby brother): Straight

Pazma Miller (Sydney's mother): Straight

Radian Miller (Sydney's father): Straight

Grandma Miller (Sydney's grandmother): Straight

Grandpa Miller (Sydney’s Grandfather): Straight

Uncle Cubois (Sydney's uncle): Straight

Aunt Triangularina (Sydney's aunt): Straight

Haruki and Himari: Straight

Daniella Spheros (Sydney's future daughter and Nether Princess): Bisexual

-------------------------------------------------------

[ell-arts]

What's your head cannons

Hmm... I've got plenty, tho they might change over time. I’ll just name a few for now.

(Warning: most of these are quite dark.)

For the Pac-squad:

Pac suffered from anxiety and panic attacks in his childhood. It’s gotten better during high-school because ghost-fighting has boosted his confidence, but he still occasionally gets anxious thoughts from time to time. He doesn’t open up about them because he knows it will worry people (Spheria used to lose sleep over worrying about him in his childhood when said panic attacks were haunting him, he doesn’t want a repeat of that)

Spiral has a hidden talent for art (as was kinda evident in Easter Egg Island, coming from a family of painters who decorate Easter eggs and ornaments for a living) but he’s neglected the practice of his talent in favour of learning a bit of music instead, i.e the harmonica.

Cyli can play the guitar, and quite decently so. She was taught by her Granny. As she grew up though, she fell out of the hobby because she didn’t feel a big enough passion for it to pursue it. She is closer with her grandmother than with her parents.

Elli is, in many ways, an anime geek. Perhaps even a bit of a weeb. She used to enjoy watching several anime series on end, but growing up with a strict mother, she eventually dropped her hobbies to focus more on living up to her mother’s expectations. (It didn’t stop her from sneaking in some screen-time every now and then, tho)

It’s never shown, but I’d like to think that Elli and Cyli became the best of friends after a while. They became an iconic Girl Duo as counterparts to Pac and Spiral’s bromance.

For the triple B’s:

Betrayus’ birth name is Trayus Rotundin Spheros. He changed it to Betrayus Sneakerus Spheros in an act of rebellion and for taking pride in how he sneakily betrayed Pacopolis by leading the revolt against it. 

Butt-ler used to be a sweetheart in his past life, but a troubled family, serving in the war, and serving as Betrayus’ servant has numbed him out of any optimistic feelings, leaving him a numb, sarcastic and empty husk of who he once was.

Dr Buttocks had psychotic and evil-scientist tendencies as early as the age of 12.

The Butt-twins grew up in separate countries after their parents divorced: Butt-ler grew up in Pac-England with his mother while Dr Buttocks grew up in Pac-Germany with his father. Hence the different accents. 

For the Ghost Gang:

Inky was a DJ in his past life. He wanted to pursue a career in sound-engineering, but then he got recruited in the war.

Blinky became a Pac-Fu Master early on in his life, and by the time the war rolled around he was a bit out of touch with his teachings. He partook in the war for a bit and went through a phase where he had a lot of internal conflict over it all, since the war went against everything that Pac-Fu stood for. He only fully realised his mistake when he died and became a ghost. Afterwards, he took some time alone to reconnect with his Pac-Fu teachings, but it did little to bring back his peace.

Clyde grew up on a carrot farm before he and his family were victim to the war. Their land was seized by Betrayus’s forces and Clyde and his siblings were forced to fight for him.

Pinky came from a wealthy family, and her family was one of many who supported Betrayus financially in the war. But when the war turned brutal and some of Betrayus’ plans and true intentions came to light, her family ceased their support for him. In return, the family mansion was bombed, killing all who lived in it.

Despite having a lot of dreams and aspirations in their lifetimes, the Ghost Gang can not remember much of what happened in their past lives before they died. Or how they died. (They assumed that they were just body-stripped like the rest of Betrayus’s army)

For ghosts in general:

Ghosts can't age anymore due to being technically dead. If a ghost died at the age of 19, then they will mentally stay 19 for the rest of their afterlives. 

Usually, when a pac-person dies, then their spirit either goes to heaven or hell. But since it is assumed that all of the ghosts in the Netherworld died via abnormal means (body-stripping, or just death against their will), then their spirits are in limbo in the Netherworld because they’re stuck between the realms of good and evil. While the Netherworld itself may be quite a hellish place, I’d like to think its a place where spirits with ‘unfinished business’ are given a chance to reconcile or come to terms with their deaths to the point where their souls will eventually move on to the realm in which they belong. (I mean this will explain why we don’t see dead relatives of the protagonists coming out of the Nether to say hello to their families lol) (also explains why Betrayus is still around because he’s a salty b*tch who won’t go down without dragging everyone else down with him)

Ghosts have poor senses. Their sight and hearing is generally good, but their sense of touch and taste is quite poor, if not entirely non-existent. This is in line with them technically being dead. (“You know, when you get real tastebuds, the uh, roaches don’t seem so fresh” - Inky, from No Body Knows)

[snowywolf1005]

Hiiiii it’s so long since I made a request and I love your content dude🫶🏻✨🌟

Can you do….Alice!reader from fundamental paper education and Butt-ler from pac-man and the ghostly adventure make him like a father figure to us!!! And pac-man you’re not evil and you’re just broken and need help. He’s a bit delusional like this….but we love him😊✨🌟

(U can make like a scenario or a HC🫶🏻🫵🏻) love ya❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

I'm sorry, but I don't know what is.

Please forgive me.