#he lives rent free in the back of my mind

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

37 Minutes [pre-outbreak!Joel x f!reader]

Read on Ao3

Fandom: The Last of Us

Ship: Joel Miller x you/f!reader

Tags/warnings: Cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, (kind of) forced orgasm, squirting, PiV sex.

Summary: You wake up one morning needing Joel, and he comes as soon as you let him know that. And while his life may be busy, he takes the time to thoroughly satisfy you.

Words: 2,092

A/N: This is inspired by this post by @swiftispunk. It came across my dash around Easter and it's been living rent-free in my head since then. Finally had time to write it. Enjoy!

It’s just one of those mornings when you wake up with that itch that your own hand or your box of toys can’t do anything about.

Getting out of bed and pulling on a t-shirt, you grab your phone and go out to the kitchen to put the coffee on. You send Joel a text, short and to the point: Got time?

He calls you immediately. You smile as you press the green receiver.

”That was fast.”

”You read my mind,” he tells you in a muffled voice. ”I woke up thinking about you.”

”Then come over. And you could’ve texted me that.”

”Texting takes twice as long, I ain’t got time. See you in fifteen.”

You barely get to finish your coffee before you hear Joel’s truck on your driveway, and you’re not even by the front door when he knocks on it. As soon as you open the door, he’s through it, arms around your waist, lips on yours. He’s in a hurry, you can tell, but you love these hurried meetings, if only because he wants you so much. You love being wanted this much, this hard, this desperately.

He tastes of coffee, same as you, and a little sweat on his upper lip. It’s early, but the temperature is already in the mid-eighties. Your AC is keeping your home nice and cool, though.

You shove the door close and wrap your arms around Joel's neck, kissing him back and groaning when his hands slide down to your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pushes you up against him. He is already stiff, and you wonder if he’s been so during his entire drive here.

"Don't have long," he lets you know between the kisses. "Gotta get to a building site across town in an hour, and - "

"Then make it count," you cut him off, and Joel reacts immediately, grabbing the hem of your t-shirt, and pulling the garment off of you. He presses his lips on yours again, hands on your tits as he walks you backwards to the bedroom. The kiss breaks only for as long as it takes him to get rid of his own clothes before he pushes you down on the bed. He immediately kneels before you and pulls down your panties before leaning in to kiss your cunt. You sigh out the first little hint of pleasure, but that sigh turns into a moan as Joel wastes no time teasing you. His tongue, quick and agile, starts to work your clit.

“Joel…!” you keen, legs opening wide to give him better access between your thick thighs. He’s sloppy and loud, but not aimless in his endeavor. His hands travel up your thighs to your belly, then to your breasts, where he rolls your nipples between forefingers and thumbs. You buck against him, keening to encourage him to go on, take hold of his hands and push them against your tits to make him grab them. He hums against your clit, looking up and grinning at your enthusiasm. How he can smile and have his tongue do that to you at the same time is beyond you, but you do not dwell on it as Joel puts it into a higher gear. Tongue on your clit, he pushes you quickly towards your peak, and when the pleasure turns more intense, you start to grind against him, your fingers plaiting with his and holding on, head thrown back to your Yes, yes, yesyesyes! until his tongue takes you over the edge. Your legs twitch as you try to catch your breath, but Joel doesn’t give you much of a respite.

“’nother one, beautiful,” he murmurs, licking his lips and letting go of your hands. “You taste so fuckin’ good.”

He attacks your clit again, licking, pushing, and prodding. Your hips buck up but are immediately locked down to the mattress by one of his strong arms placed across your lower abdomen. Your pussy clenches when you feel his fingertips at your opening. The second after, he slides two fingers inside you, his tongue and lips still on your clit as he finds that magical spot on your front wall. You shout out, back arching off the mattress, hands digging into the sheets as he massages that spot.

“God, Joel, oh God, don’t stop, fuckfuckfuck!”

He’s breathing heavily against your folds, but his tongue doesn’t stop, and his fingers are insisting on drawing a second orgasm from you. It’s almost too much, but you woke up wanting him, needing him, so you let your mind go blank and surrender, your moans turning more and more breathless the further you go. When you come, there is no sound, only a momentary stiffness in your entire body before you fall apart. You’re trembling all over, but Joel still goes on licking you. Your clit is on fire, your pussy is clenching, but goddamn him, he doesn’t stop.

“Joel,” you cry out, “stop, I can’t, I need a rest!”

“One more,” he tells you gasps, letting your clit be for just a moment. “I know you can, baby, be good for me now, gimme one more.”

You shake your head and press your thighs together, trying to crawl away, but Joel exhales sharply and grabs your waist.

“Just stay where you are, sweetheart, it’ll be over soon.”

He pries open your legs again, and this time he plants his mouth on your clit, and sucks. Your upper back shoots up from the bed but Joel already has his arms around your thighs, holding them open, locking his head firmly between them. The pleasure is almost painful in its intensity, shooting through your entire body, and you’re desperately trying to hold onto his head, the sheets, yourself, anything to relieve the force with which he’s sucking your overstimulated clit. But Joel doesn’t budge, and when you start to kick, he gets up onto the bed and lifts your lower body up into the air. Never once does his lips leave your clit, and you feel his scorching, labored breath on you, but nothing else suggests that he’s having any trouble lifting half of your heavy body off the bed. You kick, and he growls, finally letting go, but only to grab he backs of your thighs and bend you double. Your swollen pussy is obscenely on display, and you don’t get to ask him to wait before he slots his lips over your clit again.

You’re helplessly trapped, bent double and held in place by Joel’s strong builder’s hands, moaning and cursing until the pressure becomes too much. You hear a splash, Joel who hums and slurps, and you laugh without knowing why. Warm liquid is running down between your ass cheeks, and Joel latches back onto your clit, this time gulping the wet before getting a hold.

The third orgasm finally tears through you, and Joel releases you to tremble before him. You want to close your legs, but your hamstrings are so intensely stretched that you have to roll over onto your side to press your thighs together. Your clit is throbbing painfully, the skin around your pussy is grated raw by Joel’s facial hair, but he’s already nudging you to return onto your back.

“You did great, darlin’,” he praises you thickly, his tongue stiff after its service. “Just lemme grab a rubber, and I’ll fuck you good, okay?”

You whimper in return and blink your eyes open. Joel’s face, blurry at the edges, is somewhere above you, smiling at you before disappearing out of sight. You can dimly see the ceiling fan rotations, but truth is you can barely see at all, so you rub at your eyes before drawing your fingers through your hair.

Joel returns next to you, and you dimly hear the rustle of the condom wrapper. He takes his place between your legs, opening them gently.

“Be a good girl for me, or I’ll eat you out again,” he asks you sweetly, and you know you won’t survive that, so you let your knees fall to the sides, even if your hips are getting tense.

He slides into you slowly but surely, one inch after the other until he’s fully sheathed. Bending over to kiss you, his tongue slow now, he gives you a moment to adjust before he straightens his back, takes you by the waist, and starts to pump into you. It’s fast and shallow, and he gets breathless quickly, huffing out each quick breath before sucking in new air in time with his thrusts. You don’t even know if you’re breathing at all anymore, but you’re catching up with him now, and raise your hips slightly to meet his thrusts. He growls and comes down onto his forearms, getting in deeper. You embrace him, pull him down and into you, guide his head right next to yours where he hides his face in your neck as you pant your encouragement into his ear. You kiss, bite, and suck his neck, scratch your nails down his back, and slap his ass.

“Harder, Joel, harder, I need it harder!”

He snarls, his head snaps up from your neck as he gulps air into his lungs. His arms curl around your head as he picks up the pace. His cock is so deep, so hard, filling your pussy to the brink of annihilation it seems, and he doesn’t stop, he just goes on and on fucking you, his body slick with sweat that rubs off on you, his breaths growing increasingly audible for each thrust.

“Fuck!” he finally grunts before pulling out. “Roll over, baby.”

You obey, getting on all fours, and are immediately shoved down onto your chest as he slams into you. Hands on your hips, he goes hard and fast, groaning now as he breaths, one hand scrambling for a grip on your lower back without finding. His cock keeps assaulting your pussy, you are in heaven, and you still keep asking him to go harder. He pushes you down, hands pressing into your lower back as he goes on fucking you, reaching impossibly deeper each time, until you’re screaming and have to muffle yourself by pushing your face down into the sheets. Joel swears, his hips start to move erratically, and then he drives himself deep inside and stays there as he roars, pushing even deeper.

He slumps down next to you, panting like after a marathon. You turn your head to better breathe, but you can’t turn move your legs. Joel lies next to you, eyes closed, mouth open as he draws shallow breath after shallow breath, skin glistening with sweat. You want to say something but have to lick your lips several times before you can form words.

“Fuck, but you’re good.”

He blinks, and slowly turns his head towards you.

“What?”

“You’re so fucking good at this.”

“Am I?”

His cluelessness is adorable.

“Yes, you are, Joel!”

“I don’t know…” He makes a move that resembles a shrug. “I just enjoy you.”

Like this is just any ordinary fuck. You smile widely, a new kind of warmth spreading inside you. Joel just is that kind of humble person.

He now draws a deep breath, sighs it out, and then sits up. He leans over you to kiss your back, shoulder, neck, and finally mouth.

“I gotta go.”

“Sure.”

He leaves the bed, throwing a glance at the bedside clock radio.

“37 minutes. That’s a new record.”

“Jesus Christ.”

You hear the rustle of clothes and manage to roll over onto your back. Everything hurts so good, and you’re grateful you don’t have work today.

Joel sighs. “You look so fucking pretty, baby.”

You hum, smiling at him. As he picks up his t-shirt, you remember something. 

”Put it on the right way.”

“Huh?”

“You had your t-shirt on backwards and inside out when you got here,” you giggle. “Make sure it’s the right way now.”

“But then Tommy will notice, and he’ll know where I’ve been,” Joel points out pragmatically, still putting the t-shirt on the right way. It immediately gets dark spots in the front.

“I think he’ll know either way,” you yawn. Joel returns to bed for one last kiss.

“Fuck, I wanna stay.”

“I want that too.” You cup his cheek to keep his lips on yours for a moment longer.

“Mmm…” he hums into your mouth. “See you this weekend?”

“Absolutely.”

He presses one last kiss on your mouth before leaving you to your boneless rest.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #pre-outbreak!joel #young joel miller #my fic

[christinebloodwrittings]

Somebody that I used to know.

Request made by @white-00-7

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!reader Summary: Old friends turned into lovers under very distressing situations. Warning: Blood, Adam, violence.

After the Axe-man terrified the streets of New Orleans, there was the butcher of the bayou. A cannibalistic maniac, known to left no “crumbs” of their victims, so to speak. You knew that by being hunting season, he may be on the woods alongside you, what you didn’t counted on was the creep following you, rifle in hand.

A rustle was heard in between the bushes, you aimed at the bush with confidence, thinking it was probably a deer or a duck at least, the creep making haste to do the same, to your head. “Come out, come out” you whispered to yourself, seeing brown hair and antlers, there you shoot.

But the thud was lighter than a deer’s.

Moving the bush you saw a smiling man, “Holy shit!, no, sir, I’m so sorry, don’t die, help please!” you cried out, but as you turned around the lights were off as well. The sound of the trigger on the creep’s rifle was the last thing you heard.

The free fall was the least of it, but speaking of thousands of meters high, one does not think about the fall but rather the impact. However, it wasn't so hard for you, for the poor bastard under you, it was.

"Get off me!" he managed to throw you off his back, “I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to land on you” he dusted himself off as he regained his composure, clearing his voice when he noticed you were a woman.

“No, I apologize dear, here, let me help” He offered his clawed hand to yours, only by then both realized they didn’t looked like humans no more, “Interesting” he muttered, pulling gently on your arm.

He was looking at his new self when he heard a sudden laugh, “What’s so funny?” he questioned, then you pointed at yours and his little tail, “They’re so fluffy” he wasn’t so enchanted by the cutesy fact.

He was a deer, a white back at that. You on the other hand were a red one. A stag and a doe, how fitting both lifestyles of pride, more than anything.

“Why are you down here, dear?” you thought about it for a second, pride and rebellion was your first thought, then your taxidermy hobbies, “All I can think off is that poor man I killed as of a few minutes now, I mistook him for a…deer” he took a second to think about it, the click that made him stand up was a riffle trigger, your weapon.

He laughed, "You killed me," he continued his laughter, he took your arm to start walking towards the city, "I must say, my dear, that of all the evils in this world, you are the only thing I didn't think would send me to hell" It still made him laugh, "And it's even funnier that they killed you almost at the same time you killed me, life is a great irony" he smiled, one of the sweetest smiles he gifted you.

Now, don’t get him wrong, he was mad out of his mind, also slightly scared, not that he would admit that. Though the warmth of your arm linked with his brought him an anchor like feeling.

 After a few years of living together, Alastor disappeared without warning. "I will become stronger, soon the citizens of hell will know of my power” He used to take his place at your side and daydream about greatness and have everyone's respect, more fear than respect though.

“I will be able to protect you" that sentence lived rent free in your head, his voice a mere echo in your memories, after seven years you almost didn’t remembered his face anymore.

Alastor took care of the most bloodthirsty so that you didn't have to, without him there, you had to take measures into your own hands. The Pride Ring came to know you as one of the best snipers, the Overlord Ghost Shot, your elemental power to control the air could make your bullets fly up to lightspeed, also take away the oxygen off your enemies lungs.

You build up a company off the souls you began to own, you provided the fabrics that boosted businesses like Velvette’s or Rosie’s, known for the good quality and resistance. You didn’t worried yourself with planned obsolescence, there’s always a new design and a new trendy style that makes people keep buying.

And giving the amount of violence, clothes get ruin almost every day, Never in all the years you have been in hell have you been short of money, you managed to get a suite apartment in your own district, near the Morningstar district.

Eighty-four years of having Alastor by your side, and he just disappeared like he didn't care. Not a note, telegram, letter, anything in 7 years.

Until one afternoon when you received an invitation to an emergency meeting, it seems that Adam the first man brought forward the extermination half the time, having six months of preparation. Not one year you’ve lost a soul, but you weren’t going to start now.

“Asano, I need you to begin the preparations of the bunker, the winged rats will come down on us sooner than anticipated” you had souls knocking on your door, practically begging to make deals with you, giving that in exchange of their souls you provided safety, free housing, and a quality of life no other overlord did.

Although at the beginning some sinners wanted to abuse your good will, since you are a deer demon they tend to look down on you. They didn't find it funny anymore when they started to suffocate. Word on the street is that the air gets thicker when you’re in the room.

“I have the technical revision of my company Milla, if your plan is to arm yourself to fend off the attack don’t count on me, I have bigger priorities” Carmilla was one of your dearests friends, you made her gears laced with angelic steal fibers, and in return she updated your riffle, also gave you bullets made of angelic steal.

“I’m not saying we should, all we need is brainstorm a plan to lose as few souls as possible” she heard you made a pensative hum as she watched the overlords take their seats on the table, “You don’t wish to hide like we do, though you’ve lost more souls than I have over the years, so, do whatever you think is best, I’ll help if you want to listen for once” you hung up before Carmilla made herself aware of Alastor’s return.

 You didn’t owned a television, so Vox’s lovers spat never reached your way, and on the streets of your district no one really cared of other overlords, knowing they were under your wing.

"Y/n dear, how about you stop by the tower? They opened a new cafe on the corner, I bought cream cake and the tea that you like, it’s been a while since I saw you" said the letter that you received along with a new cell phone, Vox was more like a stone among the demons that courted you, and even though you sent his electronic junk broken back to his office, he didn't stop insisting.

“I’m so glad you came, how are your preparations for the extermination?” you brought the tea cup up to your lips, “It has been rather sudden; however I have managed to mobilize things on time, how about you?" he cut up a piece of cake, just as big as he knew you liked, “Oh we are fine, we aren’t the target anyway” your ears perked up in interest, his grin grew bigger on his face as he noticed.

“The princess is trying to redeem sinners, have you heard?” you nodded, “The Radio Demon is helping, but as useless as he is-” you began laughing, “The Radio Demon? What kind of pompous prick is named like that?” then sipped on the tea, “You know, Alastor” but as soon as he uttered that name, you choked on your tea and stormed out of his office.

And thank goodness, the air was too thick to breathe, Vox was having issues with it until you left.

“Mimzy, we know you’re in there you lousy bitch!” you heard the loan shark yell towards the  ‘Hazbin Hotel’, trying to knock the door down with a pry bar. “Gentleman, you’re in my way” you spoke, seeing a green glow wrapped the building.

“Not to mess with the Radio Demon!” taking another puff of your cigarette you watched the ten stories tall face of a man you used to know. A smile you didn’t recognized, stitched on the sides, holding his smile up. As soon as he finished eating the sharks he stopped on his tracks, merely centimeters away from your body.

“Y/n?” his distorted voice spoke in utter disbelief, “Good day Alastor, it’s been many moons, don’t you think?” He was frozen, the cute little deer girl he left all those years ago was nowhere to be seen. Replaced by a woman, wearing a dark black attire and tired eyes.

"Y/n, long time no see" he had to shift his voice a little, Charlie and the rest were right behind him inside the hotel. His chirp tone making it seem like he didn't disappeared at all, was a direct stab to your heart.

"You look..." you didn't know anymore, "Different" eyeing him from top to bottom with a disgust grimace in your face hurt him beyond his understanding, "Yes well, I told you I would get stronger" his eyes were different, they were empty.

"I see that, have a good day" you turned around in your heels ready to walk away from the place, "Y/n wait, that's it?" He was hurt? Why did he felt the audacity to pretend to be the victim when you were left behind.

"What else you want me to say?" Since he left, you stopped being joyful, the killing and the merciless torture you went through did that, and it was all his fault.

"A warmer welcome would be nice" you took out your rifle then shoot his shoulder with a dull bullet, "Warmer than that?" It didn't bleed but it hurt, so much it made Alastor take a few steps back.

"Alastor!" The princess cried out for him, "What do you think you're doing?!" Her little horns and red eyes made you snicker a little, "Is this what you've been doing all these years? Help this little girl with her hotel?" Alastor stood up, making seem as it didn't hurt at all, "Now, now Charlie, all is fine, no damage done" she tried to worry about him but it was no use, "Who is Alastor to you?" She asked you, distorted voice and hair flaring.

Alastor had his eyes on you specially when you locked on his dials flashing on and off, "Someone I used to know” the pain was real that time, Alastor didn’t even try to hide it, “Y/n please, let me explain” a small laugh escaped your lips, the first smile he saw from you in a while.

“Not a note, letter, smoke signal, nothing in seven years” he tried to make up an excuse, but you didn’t let him speak, “I had to find out from Vox, and as distasteful as he is, at least is a true friend to be in touch at least three times a week” the fact he told you sent a holy bullet up on his pride, “I can’t explain” he went again.

“I-don’t-FUCKING-care” you accentuated every word, “Woah, what is going on here?” the one and the only Lucifer Morningstar came next to his daughter, wondering wat was taking her so long after she ran out.

“They know each other” Charlie waved her hand in between the two. “Lover’s spat?” he inquired mockingly, which you replied with a straightforward and cold “No” making the devil choke on some saliva, “Makes sense though, with a face like that” when Lucifer turned his eyes from Alastor to you he saw the end of your rifle, “First one is a dull, will hurt, the second a holy one, apologize” internally Lucifer applauded your bravery, so with a smile that reached his ears he uttered “I’m sorry Alastor, I didn’t meant to bring out the obvious”.

He made you smile, “Good enough” you put the rifle strap over your shoulder again, “I’m not going to apologize for that, by the way” he didn’t expected you to.

Alastor watched the scene with jealousy, as in less than two seconds of interaction you received Lucifer in a better way than him, you even smiled at him better than him. If he had a reason to be angry that was one. When you turned your head he noticed a burn on your neck, then he went down and saw the scars on your hands, maybe how many more marks you had on your body, experiences  that took away the innocent friend he used to have.

"You're thin, you don't eat enough or what? What happened to your teeth?" you started making questions that made Alastor sweat, “What is this Radio Demon shit? Who do you think you are, huh?" “Somone that will take you down if you keep at it” “Baby, we’re not at the same level, you are the lowest of the overlords”

“She’s right” “I haven’t lost a single soul in all these years, I can steal air from your lungs by just wanting it” he started feeling at loss of breath, his lungs compressed forcefully searching for oxygen, “I offered you my life, my time, my love” you straightened his bow tie, ignoring Charlie’s pleas for you to stop hurting him, “And you just kissed me, and early in the morning after, you took off, seven years without a single signal you were alive”.

“And now I find out that you’ve been here for five months already, not even once you tried to reach me” your hands palmed his chest slowly, your warmth poring through his clothes, “I have my territory delimited by a black line, if you cross it, I won’t be so nice as I am now” you hovered your lips over his, returning the air down his throat.

Lucifer whistled an impressed tune, “Y/n please, I can explain” he heard Alastor breathing rapidly, getting off Charlie’s support to try to get you, his knees stopping on their tracks due to the lack of strength left, “Y/n right? He looks like he wants to make things right, please give him a chance” she plead, it getting to your head very quickly, damn that puppy face.  

“Y/n please, tea and tea” he dared to say, bringing Lucifer’s attention, “What’s that?” he looked your way for an explanation, “It’s where we drink tea and talk” you thought about it for a second then looked at his eyes once more, “Someday, not today, you seem preoccupied” with that you took your leave, feeling your heart heavy and lonesome as you did.

It wasn’t until Extermination day, that from your balcony you saw the horde of angels drop on the hotel, immediately seeing the flow of Alastor’s dark magic being shattered by Adam. Almost out of instinct you ensembled your long distance sniper rifle, setting it on the edge of the rail, waiting for a perfect angle to make the winged rat fall.

 Suddenly Alastor few against the edge of the building, that’s when you shot, the bullet piercing the base of both of Adam’s wings, making him wince and drop against the ceiling in pain.

“Radio ain’t dead until I say so, asshole” you allowed wind to take your message, prepping another bullet in the chamber, aiming directly at his head, “Freaky face has a girlfriend?” he joked to pass a little of the pain, “Y/n?” Alastor whispered to himself, feeling the air shift around him, his body reappearing beside you after a swirl of air teleported him.

“When I get my hands on you-“ you didn’t let Adam finish, shooting the joint of his shoulder, leaving useless his dominant arm. “Y/n” that’s all Alastor could utter, seeing you so beautifully concentrated in your aim, “You think I’ll spoil it for Lucifer if I shoot him dead?” you gave Adam a warning shot on the leg, the next one being a holy one.

“Good riddance either way, mon coeur” he had carefully stood up, supporting his weight with a hand on the railing and another around your waist, “Oh never mind, six wings is beating the shit out of him now” you said a tad disappointed since your game ended, feeling Alastor hiss at his wound.

“Don’t touch it, let’s go, I’ll help” you sat him on your bed, helping him discard his clothes. “I’m sorry for leaving like that” he sounded so sad and weak, he was deeply angry at himself for how blind he was, for taking you for granted and abandoning you without explanations.

“It doesn’t matter anymore” you made haste to patch up the wound as best as you could, but there was so much blood blocking your way, “Y/n, please forgive me” he pleads as you try your best to stitch the would close, “Why do you care so much whether if I forgive you or not?” he cupped your face, a tenderness unknown for you, uncommon of him.

He wasn’t used to be gentle, not desiring to rip your flesh apart was new to him. Instead there was this fire that warmed him up from the tip of his ears to the tip of his hooves, “Because…I love you” that word felt right, as his hands  brought your hips closer to him, his thighs on each side of your knees, “The moment to say that, was seven years ago” you allowed your powers to wrapped his bandages in a perfect way, “I can make it up to you” he could think of a thousand ways to bring you back to him, unsure if in the way you were now, any of those would work, but he had the rest of eternity to find out.

“And who assures me that you won't disappear again? I felt so alone without you” his hands pulled down your hips, seating you on his leg, “Me, I promise you I’m not leaving you again, I can’t” you laughed, hands on his bare shoulders, feeling the thin layer of fur.

“Is it because now I’m powerful?” he didn’t expected you to think different of him, he couldn’t blame you, “No, because I cannot breathe without you, I missed you very much, mon amour” seven years of you in his mind, haunting him, missing the warm spot in his bed, refusing to sleep at all if it wasn’t with you.

“Please my love, my moon, my sun, my everything, let me rectify my wrongs” a chill it enveloped your entire body, “Or let your gun finish what you started” he reminded you of your set of words of earlier, his smile relaxed and lovely, “If you ever dare to abandon me again, I’ll prove that you in fact can die twice” your hissing at the last word made him sigh happily, then he moved to place a kiss on your cheek, inhaling your scent.

“You’re hurt” you whispered when his kiss traveled down to your neck, “I know, but I can bare it” you plead that he took a small time to rest, but he kept tightening his arm on your waist, then the other on the back of your neck.

When he licked the underside of your neck up to your chin, he suddenly winced, proving your point, “How about we try something else?” you saw him grin, he only did that when he had something on his head, “William found the bath a while ago” you saw the slippery friend crawl up the wall, a proud smile on his face.

“You sent him to draw a bath?” he chuckled, “I remembered it was something you fancied, the morning after us…” he remembered, you told him you wanted to wash his hair in the morning, but he left before even giving you an answer, “You know that means I’ll have to touch you?” his ears pinned down on his head so he could nuzzle against your neck, “Ever since that day, I’ve craved no one’s touch, just yours”.

His grin grew when he felt a certain movement against his forearm, “Damn thing” you cursed, “You’re not the only one” he was wagging his life off, he guided your hand to his lower back so you could feel him, “Sappy old man” you kissed his lips, “You’re not that younger than me” he continued the loving gesture, “The water will get cold” you heard the shadow groan thinking his efforts will go to waste.

“Let’s get to it then” you spent the rest of the night in each other’s arms, Alastor nearly passed out when you were massaging his scalp with the lovely scented shampoo, you told him you were never going to stop bragging about it. Then when it was your turn to get pampered, he couldn’t stop himself from kissing your shoulders, the back of your neck, arms, every piece of skin he could.

His hands just as yours were free to roam around, both delighting in the ministrations, to the point only moans of satisfaction were echoing in the bathroom.

“Just so you know, if you have a significant other, he’s dead, you’re mine now” you giggled at his possessive nature, now both dry but still naked on the bed, “Good thing I ended that relationship months ago” you sassed him, earning a small bite on your clavicle, “As soon as I’m better, I’m claiming you” his eyes shifted to have dials, “Sure thing, you have a lot of pain to make up for, ya’ know?” he knew that.

There were parts of your body that were burnt, others covered by patches made of steel, then there were the cuts, the scars, the lashes, everything he acknowledged it was his fault, “This, are they dead?” you shook your head, “Then my broadcast will have new voices” his voice took a low tone and the growl made you feel butterflies, “Thank you” you whispered, lowering just enough so you could have your head under his chin, legs intertwined, arms holding each other as close as possible.

“This is going to sound weird, but I’m glad I killed you” he let out a breathy laugh, “Me too”.

#alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel fanart #radio demon

[brave-and-gentle]

Does anybody else think about Jean Kirstein reuniting with his mother post-rumbling?

This scene is living rent free in my head: on the boat, he's dreading the moment. Not because he doesn't want to see her, no, Jean desperately wants to see his mother. He dreads seeing her because he doesn't know what she'll think of him now.

Will she see a monster? Jean hasn't seen his mother in years - will she look at him in horror? Because she knows he's killed people? That he has blood on his hands? He can never go back now.

Once they arrive to Paradis, Jean finds his mother waiting for them. He approaches her tentatively, his head hung down. She throws her arms around him - "my Jeanboy!" and pulls him into a tight hug. And Jean breaks down sobbing, because in that moment, he knows that his mother loves him so fiercely no matter what he's done - he will always be the little Jeanboy she made omelettes for in her mind.

#i made myself cry #help #jeanboy #his mother's love for him is unparalleled #jean's mom deserved more screen time #jean kirstein #aot #attack on titan #snk #shingeki no kyojin

[shaunashipman]

For the hc thing (is basically a ff idea but English is not my first language and I’m not skilled enough to actually write it): they both fall hard and fast, but they are scared to admit it. At some point -I’d like to say a few years, but with 911 you never know lol- they both decide they want to propose, so they both buy a ring without telling anyone (Tommy would like to tell Eddie or Maddie, but at the same time he is terrified by the thought that one of them is going to tell him that this is moving too fast, that Buck isn’t actually so invested in their relationship and such). And the problem is… they do romantic things all the time. Tommy gives him “flying lessons” on regular basis, they go to the beach to watch the sunset and so on. So they both have no idea how to actually ask and tbh they are both scared because yes, they live together and they say “I love you”, but what if…?

Until one night Tommy comes back from a shift and it was a long one and he is exhausted and he just want to sleep and cuddle the love of his life and Buck is not even looking at him, but he greets him with his soft voice and he is cooking dinner and Tommy can see that there are fresh flowers on the table and he can’t have another minute without being engaged to this man.

So he falls on his knees and Buck turns around and he poops the question right here and Buck looks at him panicked and just screams “No!”

Tommy looks at him and gets up and Buck can see the way his heart broke and he leaves the room without a word and Tommy doesn’t even know what’s going on, just that his heart is scattered in a million pieces.

Until Buck comes back in a hurry and falls on his knees (on his bad knee, for the love of god) and shows him the ring and asks him the question right the back.

In the end, they’re idiots and they love each other very much, thank u bye

(Really hope it makes sense in a way, these two live in mind rent free😭)

yessss double proposal, that video of the two girls was so cute 🥰

all the comedy, they can't figure out how to propose, and then whenever one of them comes up with something it somehow gets interrupted, like eddie runs into them and accidentally starts 3rd wheeling it, not getting any of the unsubtle hints, or some emergency happens right there and they have to jump into first responder mode

i wouldn't want buck to just leave him immediately to run get the ring, that just feels a little too hurtful even if it's only for a second.

i'm picturing: buck turns around and sees tommy on his knees about to pop the question, blurts out "wait, wait!!" and tommy freezes, not sure if that's in response to him or if something else just happened, not helped by buck rushing past him out of the kitchen, running back in to kiss him hard on the mouth and running back out again, confusing the fuck out of tommy, then finally runs back in an drops to his knees (fuck his bad knee, his fiancé can help him massage it out later) and they're both laughing and crying, trying to say the words at the same time, fumbling to slip the rings onto each other's fingers

then they fuck over the kitchen counter so they can link their left hands together and stare at their rings

(p.s your english is great, this made perfect sense)

#cleo gets mail #anonymous #911 #bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard

[pokeberry5]

thug beatdown round 2: electric boogaloo

(extras, cw flashing gif:)

alt:

the fit:

#tim drake #dc #sart #cw flashing #im grateful to the femme tim people for indulging me bc im back on my bullshit #long hair tim!!! LONG HAIR TIM!!! #if dick can have a long hair moment so can tim #further #as a canonical nightwing fan i think tim would at some point try to emulate that (also as a possible successor to the mantle) #(altho the nightwing!damian to batman!cass art i saw once also lives rent free in my mind) #AND if we track the progression of tim's hair from robin to red robin #this is the natural conclusion #in this essay i will— #aside but altho the only time i've seen jack drake drinking in the comics it was beer #we're gonna pretend he was fond of whiskey for the Aesthetic #also traditional upper class white man things #and tim drinks whiskey as a begrudging homage to the father he never really got to share drinks with beyond that one time he got magically #aged up #((i got a new dress and i thought tim would look nice in it)) #god i can finally think about other things now

[minzbins]

seungmin moments [1/∞]

#stray kids #skz #seungmin #kim seungmin #bystay #staytay #usersun #userbeepls #usersa #userlau #meltracks #usersrin #!melstuff #!sm #skz talker #skz talker ep.51 #felt like making a new gifset series so here we are skfjbsjkefk #this seungmin lives in my mind rent free bc it's when he started wrecking me.. and eventually there was no turning back sjdhfdhfkjfkll

[esmesketch]

HONK if you're still deep inside the Far Cry 5 hole trap in 2024 and can't escape.

#ooc. esme rumbles #far cry 5 #far cry #fc5 #[ we cannot escape - we cannot come out ] #[ I need more mutuals that I can stalk and adore their ocs ] #[ Jacob Seed is still living rent free in back of my mind ] #[ don’t send help ] #[ I entered this pit when far cry 3 was gifted to me by my father lol ] #[ he didn't know what it will start that day ]

[mikkaeus]

times house drugged wilson [1/?] — 6.07 Known Unknowns

#houseedit #housemdedit #hilson #house md #house #greg house #james wilson #then he somehow transfers him to the bed and proceeds to take his pants off and steal his tie #the romance <3 #he could've just left him there at the table but he wanted to save his back and neck #admittedly it would've been rather difficult to remove his pants sat at a table but like... whyd he even have to take his pants. #he could've just taken his shirt. gay #*** #house drugging wilson #(not in chronological order) #one of my favourite hilson episodes the moment in the conference room lives rent free in my mind

[starsfromtoulon]

thinking about the confrontation scene in Les Mis (1998) and the fact that they have Javert continue to talk whilst having his ass beat. this is such relatable content to me. i, too, would not shut up if i knew I Was Right.

#sorry mutual i commented this to #i just keep coming back to it #literally one of the worst adaptations but also SO fascinating in the choices they make #it's bad-good #their characterization of valjean should be considered personal slander against a fictional character #but i kind of like whatever is wrong with this javert #lives rent free in my mind alongside the I KNEW IT!!! I KNEW IT!!! #he's just like me.... #les miserables 1998 #javert

[ikram1909]

“an ex player” lol i know people hate dembele now but let’s not act like gavi didn’t absolutely love the man

Gavi adored him and probably still does. He was especially affectionate with him

#the way he hides his face in dembeles chest in that second clip lives in my mind rent free #he's so full of love I miss him so much #pablo gavi #baby waby #ousmane dembélé #give him back to us already I can't do this anymore

[fistfuloflightning]

Thus Nienor stood, and heard nothing that he said and made him no answer. Then great was Mablung’s grief and bewilderment.

—The Children of Hurin

#nienor #mablung #the silmarillion #i highly doubt anyone needed angsty fanart of this exact moment #but it lives in my mind rent free #he comes back from scouting out nargothrond #which is full of DEAD BODIES #prob people he knew too #has to hide from glaurung when the dragon returns #then when he finally finds nienor #she’s a vegetable #nothing there no one home #and he can’t do anything to save her #the children of húrin #my art #mablung/nienor #tolkien art

[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!!

#Cellbit: I am the master of the teases and antecipation I am ruthless I have no mercy I am unstoppable #Pac: a// Cellbit: Friend is uncomfortable? Friend want me to stop?? Friend is sad??? *sad wet cat noises* #I tried to make this a bit out of my comfort zone! :D With plenty of teases and antecipation and took a while to write but I am very happy! #You can see this as romantic but honestly I think they have something much weirder going on #qsmp tickles #qsmp tickling #Ticklish!Pac #Ler!Cellbit #I regret nothing #I wanted to make the dialogue in portuguese on the tickle part too but I would've died fr fr #Sarcastic and acid Pac lives rent free in my mind I mean did you see the prank he and Mike did to Foolish to get him back about the prison? #Crazy stuff for real for real xD #Kanene's fanfic #Kanene's fic

[thisisemsblog]

#atyd sirius #atyd #wolfstar #i kid you not this scene lives rent free in my mind istg #it just perfectly summarizes wolfstar #more specifically in atyd #but just overall too #in canon au's ig #like they love each other so so much but also they have so much fucking trauma and cope with it very differently and kt causes problems #like they both haven't had a good childhood and love scares them shitless #but sirius clings to it he doesn't let go he wants to consume you #and remus is always wary he holds himself back out of some self preservation instincts he developed #he believes he's not worth it yes but sirius believes that too #they fear the same damn thing but express it differenly #sirius wants to know everything there is about remus but this goes against everything remus knows #so they fight and feelings are broken #like the “mr 'tell me a fucking secret'” fight? it was this. #again during the war #sirius doesn't trust remus bc he realizes he's holding back again #and remus believes sirius has finally gotten tired of him #bc yk he's always waiting for ppl to leave #abandonment issues #anyway #thank you for coming to my ted talk

[nucifraga]

Been doing some research for a mini, mike-themed, conspiracy-esque board, and I've come across some interesting things:

Firstly, a 1981 article on the effects of being struck by lightning.

It's... very, very interesting how many ways a lightning strike can mess up your body. Human beings are very fragile things indeed. Notably, though, the results were that 'no continuing problems [were] observed' in the victim, which checks out. ["The doctors told me there would be no long-term damage from my accident."]

This 2008 article has a few things of relevance; namely that lightning strike victims:

Bear lichtenberg figures as a result of damage to the capillaries which usually go away in 24 hrs, but may be associated with 'deep pigmentation'. But I don't think this is the case with Mike, as I believe his scars are pale/almost-white. ["his face got so pale his branching scar seemed almost to vanish"]

May experience keraunoparalysis; the temporary paralysis of of the limbs, as result of the lightning's electricity taking the path of least resistance (i.e. through the nerves) and playing havoc with the nervous system and subsequently, both motor ability & sensation. ["you’re trapped in a statue of yourself"]

May experience retrograde amnesia; the inability to remember past events/experiences. ["The part that always bothered me was how I didn’t remember it. Not really."]

He was almost certainly hit dead-on/directly by lightning.

There's a few types of lightning strikes from what I can tell; direct, side flash (indirect), ground current & upward-streamers. The fact that Dominic Swain was unharmed (and within hearing distance of Mike, right before the flash) suggests that it wasn't a side-flash or ground current. You need a tall object for an upward streamer, but they were "playing in a field" so it's unlikely to have been that. That leaves only a direct strike. Direct strikes are less likely to have living victims, but this is TMA. And Mike survived. Mostly.

#surprise its another mike crew post #been binging malevolent but it all comes back to mike crew at the end of the day #lmao look at me talking about mike in present tense as if he's not 6 ft under #he's alive in my mind i swear #living rent free in my head #mike crew #mikecrew #michael crew #tma #the magnus archives #tma research #hyperfixation #tma theory #im going to be honest the only reason i typed this up was because i'd already pinned half of it up on my board with red string

[zh-lele]

that one time 127 were in Mexico and Taeil said tequila instead of te quiero

#😭😭😭😭😭😭 #LIVES IN MY MIND RENT FREE i go back to this reference all the time #he's so fucking funny #i love him #zh-lele.txt

[penxil]

i'm so normal about him.

#drawing that one feenie sprite a million times cause it lives rent free in my mind. why did he look like that. #also now that i started playing dual destinies i gotta draw phoenix afte he gets his badge back #while i'm at it. i have so many thoughts about the 3d sprites. #there are a few where he looks good but in general they don't do him much good #AND WHY DOES HE LOOK LIKE THAT IN HIS MUGSHOT IN DUAL DESTINIES. THAT IS NOT PHOENIX #stopping my rant here before i lose it. here are the actual tags. #ace attorney #phoenix wright #my creations