#and i am hurt that you refuse to let go of it

[elspethdixon]

I feel like tumblr needs to know that this book series is chock full of weird borderline-incest smarm.

Some choice quotes involving Elsie and her father:

She tripped across the lawn, and entering the open door of her boudoir, found herself in her father's arms. He had witnessed the little scene just enacted between Mr. Travilla and herself, had noticed something in his friend's look and manner that had never struck him before. He folded his child close to his heart for an instant then held her off a little, gazing fondly into her face.

"You are mine; you belong to me; no other earthly creature has the least shadow of a right or title in you; do you know that?"

"Yes, papa, and rejoice to know it," she murmured, putting her arms about his neck and laying her head against his breast.

It gets weirder. No other man may kiss Elsie’s lips or her father will be sad:

Then as if a sudden thought had struck him, "Elsie, have you ever allowed him to touch your lips?" he asked almost sternly.

"No, papa, not even my cheek. I would not while we were not engaged; and that could not be without your consent."

"I am truly thankful for that!" he exclaimed in a tone of relief; "to know that he had—that these sweet lips had been polluted by contact with his—would be worse to me than the loss of half my fortune." And lifting her face as he spoke, he pressed his own to them again and again.

I’ve read 19th century fiction before, it’s not normally like this.

Also in addition to the piano thing Elsie’s dad eventually tries to force her to break mire Christian rules, she ofc refuses because she’s such a good Christian, and he throws a tantrum and is basically all, I demand you be obedient to me instead of God or I’ll punish you!

“Henceforth, so long as you continue rebellious, you are to be banished entirely from the family circle; your meals must be taken in your own apartment, and though I shall not reduce your fare to bread and water, it will be very plain—no sweetmeats—no luxuries of any kind. I shall also deprive you entirely of pocket-money, and of all books excepting your Bible and school-books, [weird that he’s letting her keep the Bible here when it’s the whole being Christian thing that he’s punishing her for] and forbid you either to pay or receive any visits, telling all who inquire for you, why you cannot be seen. You are also to understand that I forbid you to enter any apartment in the house excepting your own and the school-room—unless by my express permission—and never to go out at all, even to the garden, excepting to take your daily exercise, accompanied always and only by a servant. You are to go on with your studies as usual, but need not expect to be spoken to by any one but your teacher, as I shall request the others to hold no communication with you."

She remains defiantly Christian and nearly dies because of the punishments and then he’s filled with remorse and becomes a good Christian himself.

In one of the later books (there’s like twenty of them) Elsie has a granddaughter named Lulu who’s relationship with her own father is also weird and this time it’s also got serious bdsm vibes as well:

"Lulu," he said, with a sigh that was almost a groan, "what am I to do with you?"

"Whip me, papa," she burst out; "I deserve it. You've never tried that yet, and maybe it would make me a better girl, I almost wish you would, papa," she went on in her vehement way; "I could beat myself for being so bad and hurting you so."

A secret spanking rendezvous is planned:

Lulu hated suspense; it seemed to her worse than the worst certainty; so when they had gone a few steps farther she said, hesitating and blushing very deeply, "Papa, if you are going to punish me as—as I—said I 'most wished you would, please don't let Mamma Vi or anybody know it, and—"

"Certainly not; it shall be a secret between our two selves," he said as she broke off without finishing her sentence; "if we can manage it," he added a little doubtfully.

"They all go down to the beach every evening, you know, papa," she suggested in a timid, half-hesitating way, and trembling as she spoke.

"Yes, that would give us a chance; but I have not said positively that I intend to punish you in that way."

"No, sir; but—oh, do please say certainly that you will or you won't."

The look he gave her as she raised her eyes half fearfully to his face was very kind and affectionate, though grave and judicial. "I am not angry with you," he said, "in the sense of being in a passion or out of patience—not in the least; but I feel it to be my duty to do all I possibly can to help you to be a better child, and noticing, as I have said, for the last two or three days what a wilful, wicked temper you were indulging, I have been considering very seriously whether I ought not to try the very remedy you have yourself suggested, and I am afraid I ought indeed. Do you still think, as you told me a while ago, that this sort of punishment might be a help to you in trying to be good?"

Lulu hesitated a moment, then said impetuously, and as if determined to own the truth though it were to pass sentence upon herself, "Yes, papa, honestly I do; though I don't want you to do it one bit. But," she added, "I sha'n't love you any less if you whip me ever so hard, because I shall know you don't like to do it, and wouldn't except for the reason you've given."

"No, indeed, I should not," he said; "but you are to stay behind to-night when the others go to the beach."

"Yes, papa, I will," she answered submissively, but with a perceptible tremble in her voice.

Having arranged the super-secret punishment rendezvous no other adults are supposed to know about, Lulu waits with tremulous anticipation:

"Lulu had no appetite for the meal, and it seemed to her that the others would never have done eating; then that they lingered unusually long about the house before starting for their accustomed evening rendezvous—the beach; for she was on thorns all the time.

At last some one made a move, and catching a look from her father which she alone saw or understood, she slipped unobserved into her bedroom and waited there with a fast beating heart."

Then he actually does punish her and it continues to be weird:

Yes, sir," she answered, low and tremulously, after a moment's struggle with herself. "Oh, please do it at once, so it will be over soon!"

"I will," he said, rising and leading her into the inner room; "you shall not have the torture of anticipation a moment longer."

Though the punishment was severe beyond Lulu's worst anticipations, she bore it without outcry or entreaty, feeling that she richly deserved it, and determined that no one who might be within hearing should learn from any sound she uttered what was going on. Tears and now and then a half-suppressed sob were the only evidences of suffering that she allowed herself to give.

Her father was astonished at her fortitude, and more than ever convinced that she had in her the elements of a noble character.

The punishment over, he took her in his arms, laying her head against his breast. Both were silent, her tears falling like rain.

People in Victorian novels are always kissing children (and inflicting abusive corporal punishment on them) and laying their heads on one another’s breasts and so forth and it’s usually not creepy at all, once you account for old-fashioned language being used, but this just straight-up reads like bdsm kinkfic.

Oh god it gets worse

Okay, before I go any further I should give a little disclaimer that there's nothing wrong with doing a Christian-themed line of dolls. Toys and stories as a way to teach faith are nothing new and can be perfectly appropriate ways for kids to learn.

However the Life of Faith dolls are a unique kind of fucking horrible because they are obviously American Girl knockoffs. Instead of meaningfully engaging with the difficult themes of history like the AG dolls did, they present a disgustingly white-washed, pretty, frilly, and pleasant view of history that straight up ignores the dark stuff.

So the Life of Faith dolls are based on the Elsie Dinsmore stories which were published between 1867 and 1905. They're about a deeply faithful little girl who grows up on a plantation. In the books, when Elsie turns 18, she marries HER FATHER'S BEST FRIEND, because, to quote Wikipedia, "He has been her knight in shining armor who constantly helps her when other people are cruel to her; he has loved her for a long time." Yeah we call that "grooming" today.

Yeah, that's pretty sickening. But there IS a girl who escapes slavery in this series lemme see how that gets addressed....

WAIT YOU'RE TELLING ME SHE ESCAPES FROM THE SAME BEAUTIFUL PLANTATION THE OTHER GIRL WAS RAISED ON?! So when Elsie came of age she would literally own Laylie. Seriously did no one see the conflict in this?! Did no one involved in all of this stop for a moment and think, maybe we're not presenting a fully accurate view of history?

What really galls me is the playing Robin Hood stuff. While enslaved children did find ways to play and have fun, their lived were still dominated by the grueling, demeaning work they had to do. And they would not be given luxurious playthings like bows and arrows and green silk capes. And they didn't have frilly pretty dresses and elaborate hairdos.

I know the dolls are Christian and they all come with a little Bible but like.... Are we just gonna ignore the whole "slaves weren't allowed to read" thing?

While all the other dolls come with lots of dresses and accessories, Laylie only has the one dress and her Robin Hood accessories.

So yeah we're just skipping over the whole Civil War and Reconstruction. Violet is Elsie's daughter still growing up on the plantation like always.

So moral of the story, when you're trying to teach kids about history, maybe try a book series that wasn't written by this lady:

Because you actually can write stories about faith and being Christian that DON'T involve romanticizing slavery.

[artyandink]

kindred

“DON’T STAY AWAKE FOR TOO LONG, DON’T GO TO BED”

A/N: a little angst piece cause I felt like it, heavily inspired by Carry On but it happens before so tEcHnIcAlLy Carry On is inspired by this :)

God, Dean should have never taken his eye off the ball, the ball being you. Sure, you were such a damn good hunter — one of the best he’d ever seen — but even the best had their drawbacks, even the best had their moments, even those moments couldn’t be afforded. You and Dean had been casing a possible group of vampires in Houston while Sam hunted a werewolf down in Wichita, and you two determined that it could only be a few. You could take ‘em, you were good enough.

Wrong.

It was a whole nest, a whole ass nest, which you two had been able to mostly clear with some machetes and bullets laced with dead man’s blood. Until one son of a bitch had snuck up behind you when Dean thought the worst was over and shoved a thin wooden stake right through your stomach and yanked it back out

How fucking ironic.

Dean couldn’t hear the yell of your name that left his mouth as you crumpled to the floor, couldn’t feel when his hand holding the machete lashed out and took the thing out, dropping to his knees in front of you as you propped yourself against a wall.

“Hey, hey, sweetheart.” His voice was frantic, looking at the gigantic fucking hole in your stomach that was leaking hot blood— shit, shit. “Keep your eyes open, yeah? Don’t take ‘em off me, don’t you dare. You’re fine, you’re—” He had to cut himself off before his voice broke into a million pieces. His heart was racing, head spinning, hands frantically taking off his flannel to press against your stomach to stem the blood flow— you were a fighter, right? You fought everything, you never backed down, you wouldn’t this time, right?

“Dean,” You rasped out, in shock, looking down at the gash that was in your stomach, then back at him. “Dean.” It was like you were a broken record in your head, your head lolling forward, to which his hands flew up to keep your head up. Your body was fighting, he could see it in your eyes. “D—Dean.”

Your voice was strangled, and that was one of the worst sounds he’d ever heard in his life. Hearing it hurt his heart almost as much as seeing the wound did. You were pale, clammy — you were bleeding.

“Eyes on me,” Dean repeated, holding your face tighter in his hands, his eyes flitting to the wound every other two seconds. “Eyes on me, princess, c’mon, stay with me. Please.”

The panic was clear as hell in his eyes, like a storm tearing through a calm night. The sight of all that blood, your blood, staining your clothes and the ground beneath you tore his heart open and just left him raw.

He gently kept your head in place, not letting you slump, not letting you give up. “Stay with me. No falling asleep, sweetheart. Stay awake.” Just keep your eyes open, keep looking at him. He needed to see the light in your eyes.

You could feel it. You could, the pain stabbed through your stomach, making you let out a sort of strangled cry, breathing heavily. “I’m not— I’m not ok, am I?” You couldn’t even recognise your own voice, it was hoarse, it was raspy. Oh, God, oh, God.

The cry punched Dean in the gut, and he held back an almost strangled sound from himself, the way your voice was so quiet and broken making his heart shatter. He didn’t answer your question, because if he knew you weren’t ok, he’d lose it. He’d go insane with worry.

He shook his head, refusing to believe it, refusing to accept it— you were fine, goddamn it, you were gonna fight. “It’s gonna be ok. You’re gonna be fine.” He repeated those words like a mantra, both for your benefit and his.

“I can’t— just tell me.” You begged, your eyelashes fluttering, but you kept them open, wanting to hear it. “Tell me you’ll be ok, Dean, please.” You reached for his hand on your cheek, gripping it. “You an’ I both know I ain’t makin’— makin’ it outta here.”

“Stop it. Stop it.” Dean’s voice was a broken whisper, his chest heaving. He couldn’t lose you, he would not. “You’re gonna be fine. You’re gonna be fine because I won’t let you die on me, do you understand?”

He wanted to break, he wanted to scream at the world, he wanted to cry and sob. But if he did, he’d fall apart. You needed him to stay strong, to keep you alive.

“Then tell me something good.” You whispered, hot tears rolling down your grimed cheeks, eyes becoming more vacant by the second and he saw it. “Tell me something good, talk t’ me.”

Talking, he could do that — talking was a distraction, yeah, distraction for the both of you. What was something good, though? What could he say to you that would be any reassurance when you were literally bleeding out in his arms?

“You know what’s good?” He spoke, his voice strained but still a little gruff. “You are. You’re so goddamn good. And when we get out of here— because we will get out of here, got it — I am gonna tell you that every day.”

You grinned weakly, losing control over your breathing, gripping his hand as fear struck through in the form of pain in your lower abdomen. “I love you.” You blurted, laughing a little in relief — a weak, barely there laugh — that you’d finally said it. You finally did it. “Never told you that, but god, I’m crazy for you, Dean. Just— just remember that.”

For once in his life, his heart soared and plummeted at the same time. You were saying this now? You had to say it now? Not when you were safe, when he could celebrate getting your love and devotion in words and actions.

“You’re a goddamn idiot, you know that?” The scoff he let out sounded wrecked, but his thumb was a gentle caress against your face, trying to sooth you, wipe away the tears. “Why say it now?”

“You know I don’t know how feelings work.” You scoffed, unable to stop a watery laugh, blood trickling from the corner of your mouth as you coughed, some more dribbling down. “But I’m glad I— that I said it. You love me back, right? You…” You looked to him for some confirmation. Any at all.

He ached at the sound of that laugh, and he almost winced at the sight of the blood dribbling from your mouth. You were losing it too fast for his liking, but you were staying awake, and that was something he wanted to cling to.

“Of course I fucking love you back.” The admission was instant, like he had no time to be coy or hide it. Hell, what was the point of hiding anything at this rate? “Been crazy about your stubborn, beautiful ass for years. Thought it was plain to see, sweetheart.”

“Do I have to remind you that I ain’t a psychic?” You coughed again, gripping his hand tight, eyes dropping to his lips. “C’mere. Please, c’mere, Dean. Just— I’m losin’ it fast, don’t leave me hangin’.”

“Not leaving you, sweetheart.” He assured you, his voice quiet as he gently lifted you and manoeuvred you so you were laying properly in his arms. All the while, one hand kept firm and hard against your stomach, while the other gently touched your face, the curve of your cheek, your hair — anything he could get his hands on.

He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, trying not to think about how much his heart was screaming at the idea of losing you.

Your hand left his, cupping his own cheek, even if you knew you tasted copper and he probably could too. The kiss was simple, sweet, slightly desperate and one hell of a goodbye, not wanting to let it go, salt from your tears staining your lips as well.

The taste of your tears and your blood was something he didn’t want on his tongue, not one damn bit. It felt like a goodbye, like you were giving up, and he couldn’t have that. You were too damn good to give up, too good for him to say goodbye to.

“Please.” He mumbled against your lips, desperately kissing you, like they could keep you here, like a kiss from him would keep you alive.

“I don’t wanna go.” You whispered, losing grip fast, desperately holding on to talk to him. “Just— just don’t blame yourself, ok? It was my— my dumbass that got us here. Ok? So— so just tell me it’s ok, tell me you’ll be ok.”

“I don’t blame ya, god, I don’t." He didn’t even stop to think, he didn’t know how he’d keep going in a world without you. “Stop taking responsibility, you stupid—“

He cut himself off, hating how you were trying to act like your own death wouldn’t shatter him. All he wanted was to be able to fix this — fix you — and keep you alive.

He grabbed your hand and pressed it to his chest, wanting you to feel his heart, feeling your hand curl into his undershirt.

“Dean, please, tell me I can go.” You begged, feeling the tears fully roll down your face now, giving him a brave smile. “Tell me it’s ok, please, I can’t— I can’t hold on anymore.”

He didn’t want you to go, he couldn’t let you go, but he could see it in your eyes that your grip on the world was slipping. You were so damn brave, but he was selfish, he would do anything to keep you here, even just for a second longer.

“Go where?” He knew what you meant, but he wanted to hear it one more time, he wanted a few more seconds hearing your voice. “Please, sweetheart, fight for me.”

“I love you.” You murmured, voice weak, low, head tipping forward so your forehead rested against his cheek. “I love you… I can’t…” Your breathing was slowing, grip loosening on his hand. “Tell… me.” He had to, right? He had to say it’s ok.

“Don’t you dare.” He hated the weakening tone in your voice, the way your hand slackened; hated how you were making your peace because that wasn’t allowed, not now.

He wanted to stay strong. He didn’t want to break, but hearing your voice like that, so weak and soft, broke something in his chest. Dean pulled you as close as possible, burying his face into the crook of your neck, letting the first sob free from his throat.

He gave in. “Course it’s ok. I’ll be ok, sweet girl, I’ll be ok.”

He felt you let out a breath, but you didn’t take in another one. Your head fell limp against his shoulder, but you didn’t pick it back up. Your hand released his shirt, slid down like it was weighted and never got back up.

Your eyelashes fluttered, closed, but you didn’t open them again.

His whole damn world stopped. He had felt everything, even heard the moment your breath left you, and then nothing. Every good thing, every sweet moment, every stupid laugh and smile and sarcastic comment — it all just stopped.

Dean sat there for a long moment, refusing to believe it, refusing to believe you were gone. He gently laid you as best he could, not letting go as he put his fingers against your throat, trying to find your pulse.

There was nothing, he found nothing, just your cheeks paling, head limply falling sideways, lips parted — stained with blood — one final tear rolling down your cheek.

You were cold.

“No. No.” He couldn’t stop himself from pulling you back into his lap, cradling you to his chest like a broken doll. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to tear apart the world and everyone in it for letting this happen.

He let out a wretched sob, burying his face into your hair, wanting to feel you just one more time, praying to a god he was never sure existed to bring you, his pretty girl, back to him.

“Come back.” He whispered, his voice cracking, begging. “Please, please, come back to me, just breathe again, give me something— anything.”

He gently gripped your chin, lifting your head up so he could see your face one more time, ignoring the fact that you were so damn still. Just a breath, that’s all he needed, just one damn sign you were still with him, even if it was just for a few seconds.

“I’ll do anything.” He choked out, pressing messy kisses to your face and hair, not caring about the blood — he’d never care less about it, he’d take every damn drop you had left in you. “Sweetheart, just open your eyes, just move for me, please?”

Nothing.

“Please?”

TAGLIST:

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special tags for my boos: @jasvtsc @deanswidow @beausling @titsout4nicholas @figthoughts

@deansbite

[unboundprompts]

hurt/comfort but they're both subborn? Like teasing stubborn and more stricter stubborn,,, /nf!! I'd prefer if the teasing one was the one having a breakdown but just have fun w it man!!! Go wild!!!

Hurt/Comfort (Teasing x Stubborn)

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

He was slumped against the wall, arms crossed as he forced a casual smirk, even though his eyes were red-rimmed and tired. "Look at you, all serious. What, worried about me?" he teased, raising an eyebrow.

She huffed, crossing her own arms and stepping closer. "You’re not fooling me," she said, her voice steady but soft. "You look like you’re about to collapse."

"I’m fine," he insisted, but his voice cracked, betraying him. She just shook her head, closing the distance, and slid her arms around him without asking. For a moment, he went stiff, still holding onto his forced smile. But eventually, with a shuddered breath, he let his weight fall into her, the smirk fading.

---

"I don’t need a lecture," she muttered, forcing a chuckle that sounded hollow even to her own ears. "I’m fine."

"Fine? Sure, because people who are ‘fine’ definitely laugh to cover up that they’re hurting," they countered, their tone as steady as hers was evasive.

She raised her chin, a hint of defiance in her eyes. "Maybe I’m just good at hiding it, then."

"Not from me." They reached out, tugging her close, and even as she tried to keep up the pretense, her resolve cracked. Slowly, she let her head fall to their shoulder, clinging to them as their arms wrapped around her in silence.

---

He let out a weak laugh, rubbing at his eyes. "I can take care of myself, you know."

"Clearly," she replied dryly, though there was warmth in her gaze. "You’re really doing a great job."

His mouth quirked up, a forced attempt at humor. "Oh, come on, am I that bad off?"

"You are," she said, her tone softening. She reached for his hand, and this time, he didn’t pull away. "And if you’re so set on acting like you don’t need help, fine—just let me sit here with you, okay?" He finally gave in, squeezing her hand tightly, his teasing fading as he leaned into her support.

---

"Really, you’re fussing for nothing," they said, their voice tense but trying to sound lighthearted. "I’m just having an off day."

"An off day? You look like you haven’t slept in a week," he replied, his voice gentle but firm.

They chuckled, waving him off. "Guess you’re just seeing things."

"Right. And I suppose the fact that you’re about to fall over is all in my head, too?" He stepped closer, holding out his arms, and after a long moment, they sighed, letting him pull them into an embrace. They tried to laugh it off, but their voice wavered, and he just held them tighter, refusing to let them brush it away this time.

[luv-y0urself]

18 headcanons for woon's 18th !

day 2 : professional woon . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

army officer!woon x fem nurse!reader , baseball player!woon x fem!reader , barista!woon x fem!reader ♫．genre : slice of life, a little bit of angst for baseball!woon... | wc : 1725 | warnings : third person pov ! usage of y/n, l/n, and noona (only for the barista one). woon is a high schooler in the baseball one, but all others he is an adult (at least 18). mentions of injuries ⏤ nothing specific except woon does receive a knee injury in the baseball one. 𖤐．second post of the series ! sorry this one is a little late; i got a little bit carried away with all of the headcanons :> make sure to let me know which one you guys like the most for the full fic on the seventh day ! more details on the masterlist linked below ↓

ᵔᴗᵔ﹕masterlist | the day before . . . [posted] ! | the next day . . . tba !

army officer woon

army officer x military nurse oh my GOD hear me out guys–

woon is a part of this regiment that often goes out on dangerous missions that often lead to many injuries, which is why the girl would know him so well.

they know each other so well to the point where if he walks in (if he’s walking in; sometime’s he’s on a stretcher with something sticking out from his leg) she recognizes his face and sighs.

“again, officer kim?”

“same ol’, same ol’, nurse l/n. fix me up so i can get out asap, yeah? i don’t like this place very much.”

“i could say the same for the field, officer kim – no need to be stingy about our workplaces.”

he merely laughs, shaking his head as he nearly collapses onto the hospital bed, clutching his wound. 

he’s in the medical room so often that she begins to speculate that he gets hurt on purpose so he can come in just to see her – and once she actually accuses him of doing so.

“officer kim,” she says.

“mm?” he has his arm over his eyes while the other is being treated; another gash from an incident that she didn’t want to know specifics about.

“do you get hurt on purpose on the field?”

he takes his arm off his eyes and looks at her like she’s crazy. “excuse me?”

“i mean, if i wasn’t as pretty as i was, i wouldn’t think so, but since i am this gorgeous, it would make sense that you would want to see me every chance you get– i… nevermind.”

he laughs heartily, looking at her with amused eyes. “oh, keep going, nurse l/n. you’re so gorgeous that what?”

“forget it.”

“oh, c’mon, don’t be like that!”

playful bickering – as all military officers do – becomes playful flirting, and before they know it, they fall in love w each other.

but there’s a big mission that’s been assigned to his unit, and he has to go. 

he pays one last visit to the medical room, and she rushes out from the supply room where she was checking inventories, her eyes conveying all the worries she has for him.

but officer kim is stoic when he says, “out of all of the worries you have right now, worries about me should be out of the question."

"i’ll be back.”

and he grabs her hand, nods his head to her, and leaves the room. her hand is heavy; she opens it up to find his dogtag with his name and birthdate written on it and a single tear falls from her eyes, praying that he comes back home safely and in one piece.

baseball player woon

i feel like woon would have been such a good baseball player… but unfortunate things have happened to him, causing his career to end early. too early, in fact.

he was on the youth national team and was so good that clubs were lining up to get ready to sign him as soon as his high school career was finished – but at the finals of his high school baseball games, a wild pitch struck him in the knee.

he had to go through surgery but his parents were often busy, which meant that his girlfriend was the one always waiting for him to come out. she had been friends with him ever since they were little, since she lived next door. his parents often told her to go back home, but she refused. she knew that he needed someone by his side, no matter how tough he might act in front of everybody else.

after his surgery ended and he was moved to his hospital room, she didn’t realize the tears that were falling from her cheeks. tears kept rolling down her cheeks as she stared at his leg, covered with bandages and all kinds of medical equipment beeping around her. she was worried – worried for his reaction to his situation, as all he ever knew about was baseball.

he was the one always pulling her out during the week to play catchball with him at the park. he was the one always begging to go to baseball games during the weekends. he was the one who had smiled the brightest when he had gotten a baseball uniform on the day he entered middle school, wearing it to sleep and placing it gently in a case that he kept in his room. 

when he wakes up from the anesthesia later in the day and sees his leg covered in all those bandages, i think it would frustrate him a lot – and scare him all at the same time.

i’ve done this for my entire life.

… but i don’t think i can do it anymore.

then what should i do?

what can i do?

“... woon–”

“i… w-why are my legs like this?”

“...”

“i can’t- i can’t move them–”

“woon…”

“it hurts, y/n, it hurts… what do i do? what am i supposed to do? can i not play baseball anymore?”

watching him break apart, crying and asking over and over again what he should do broke her heart. there was nothing she could say that would console him – there was nothing she could do that would make herself understand the pain that he was going through, because that was truly all he knew how to do.

— — —

“although your senses may not be fully restored and you may not be able to move well now, if you continue to rehabilitate and exercise, you should be able to go on with your daily life, but... i think it's better to think that you cannot play on the field anymore.”

“i can’t– i can’t play at all?”

“it seems impossible at this time.”

soon after recovering consciousness, woon’s baseball career was pronounced dead by the doctors who came by during the first rotation. woon had no choice but to accept the fact helplessly in front of the stern doctor, who told him it was impossible for him to continue playing at this stage.

— — —

“y/n.”

“mm?”

“do you think i can go to the college that you want to go to too if i started studying now?

“... of course! you can start now.”

“there has to be something i can do instead of baseball, right?”

“... of course.”

“right? …”

“you’ll be good at anything, woon. i know it.”

woon just stares blankly outside the window. 

she’s seen him for over a decade now… but she’s never seen his eyes look so empty.

barista woon

he's friends w this girl that comes to the cafe regularly during his shift – he's too shy to make a move first, but would prolly do it bc his bros told him to (probably myungjae LMFAO)

he would prob use the cup and say like a cheesy ass thing like 'ur cute can i hav ur #?' 

anywho. turns out this girl is older than him by a year or two, which makes him call her noona.

they're talking in the cafe during his free time (still platonic friends) but then the latte that she's drinking causes foam to stay on her upper lip. woon, obvi not thinking much of his actions, leans forward and brushes the foam off of her lip, his thumb warm and his touch soft. 

“noona, why're you so clumsy?” his smile is shown, and the girls heart goes crazy.

BUT the thing is that this gal already has a boyfriend!!! and she talks about him a lot w woon bc she thinks woon is a true friend :(( 

okay, but its a rainy day and woon is getting ready to close the shop. he's cleaning the tables at the cafe when he hears the all-too familiar shop bell ring behind him. 

he calls out to the person without looking: "the shop is closed right now." 

he can hear the footsteps of whoever just decided to come inside anyway and doesn’t turn around, guessing that they would just leave after a minute or two. the rain was pouring outside today, and the cafe was cozy from the heater that he had left on.

warm hands circle around his waist.

something soft falls on his shoulders, and woon freezes like a deer in headlights. he glances at the hands around his waist ⏤ female fingers? they look just like the nails that his noona had shown him a few days ago⏤

woon moves immediately, turning around in her arms, her face looking up at him. 

oh... she's drunk. 

he can smell the soju coming off of her body. how much had she drunken? woon checked the clock hung across the cafe. it was barely nine thirty... woon hurriedly pulled out a chair, gingerly helping her sit down while kneeling down in front of her. 

with his eyebrows knit tightly together, and his voice soft, he asked her calmly, "you okay?"

“woon, he…” a tear slipped down her cheek. “he broke up with me.”

woon narrowed his eyes to figure out who it was for a second before it all made sense. 

her boyfriend.

“noona, look, i…” woon pauses, watching her as she tries to stop the tears from falling before he continues to speak. “it’s okay to cry.”

almost immediately, she begins to cry, tears falling freely down her cheeks and her form crumbling. he awkwardly slides into the seat next to her and puts his arm around her, patting her back softly.

“sorry,” she began saying. “i shouldn’t be bothering you when it’s so late.”

“don’t be sorry; what are you sorry about? you’re absolutely fine.” woon watches her shaking form and his heart falls, using his warm hands to wipe the tears from her cheeks, trying to think of something that would make her feel better.

"... you know, noona, when i first saw you, i thought i fell in love," he said, reminiscing. "you were this really pretty, confident woman that lit up the room. you were never rude, and never overstepped someone's boundaries. heck, you didn't even find the note i wrote on the top of your drink weird," he added with a small chuckle.

“... see, what i'm trying to say is, basically, you're amazing. you're confident, kind, pretty, smart – you're everything a person could want from their significant other."

"it's his fault for not seeing that in you. don't blame yourself."

© luv-y0urself / 2024 | taglist : @onedoornet

[burningcheese-merchant]

Ok, I have good news and bad news regarding the BurningCheese time travel AU (that sounds more and more ridiculous every time I say/type it lol)

Good news: Not only have I come up with an official title and written an official plot synopsis, I found someone willing to make cover art for the story!

Bad news: The cover art is going to take several months because the artist is busy with more important things at the moment

It sucks to have to wait that long, but I really adore this artist and their style, so I am ready and willing to do so. I will be using the time in between now and then to iron out the details of the AU. There are a lot of important questions (that other people have actually asked me about/brought to my attention, which I really appreciate!) I need solid answers for for the sake of maintaining functioning logic (the actual time travel especially, time travel is a very tricky concept to work with and I need to make sure it actually makes sense or else the entire narrative is broken)

Gonna go ahead and say this much, since people actually seem interested in the idea:

Will probably be sticking to the Back to the Future approach to time travel rather than the Avengers: Endgame one, it's easier for me to grapple with and I don't like how Endgame handled that shit anyway

Timekeeper will continue to appear even after sending Golden Cheese into the past. She's having too much fun with her new made-up soap opera to stay away like she probably should lol

The other Beasts (or Heralds, in this time) will appear, but I will not explain when, how or why

Slow burn romance. Just because Burning Spice is a hero in this time doesn't mean Golden Cheese automatically gets over her fear and hatred of him. The only BS she's ever known up until this point is the Beast of Destruction; the mass-murdering, obsessed lunatic that was actively trying to hurt her before Timekeeper intervenes. She will warm up to Herald Spice eventually, but it will take time and effort on both of their parts

There is an ending. I've already come up with an ending to the story. It came to me while I was out running errands and I simply cannot get over it. It's bittersweet, but I think it fits. Now I need to write everything else around it because I refuse to let it go lol. (You're really not supposed to do this in writing, but I'm forging ahead with the risk this time. I love the ending too much to throw it away)

You're all more than welcome to reach out and ask stuff about the story, even as it's still a WIP; it's been really nice to see people actually express interest in this concept (and as I'm sure you've noticed, I Like To Ramble lol). I just can't reveal the more important parts, so I encourage you to stick to more basic/general comments, questions and/or concerns.

Thank you all for your enthusiasm and your patience! I'm cooking something really special for you all, I promise!

[spookwriter-xo]

Coppélia

Chapter 8 - The Lightening King

Chapter Summary - A storm hits, igniting an unexpected fear from one of the boys, and bringing him a little closer to Y/N. Y/N decides to investigate Hongjoong's office while home alone.

warnings: trauma-induced fear, oral (f receiving)

Series Masterlist

MINORS NOT ALLOWED BEYOND THIS POINT

It had been a long time since I'd had company during a storm. However, it was still the same as it was before. I had no one to turn to.

I had been in the kitchen since about 2am, waiting for the storm to pass while sipping on some water to calm my nerves. It was worse when I was alone living in that crappy apartment, I'd usually cower in my bathroom until the storm would pass.

I was sitting on the kitchen counter, far away from the window by the sink. I was usually calm this time, like something supernatural was comforting me. As I sat, another crack of lightning illuminated the room, revealing a silhouette in the doorway.

I let out a yell, luckily muffled by a boom of thunder. The silhouette steps out of the dark, revealing Jongho watching me with a puzzled expression.

"You scared me!" I snap.

"Why are you awake?" He asks, his voice rough from sleep. He steps a little closer, I notice he glances at the window briefly before moving away from it. "I went to check on you-" He shuts his mouth quickly.

"What?" I ask, raising my eyebrow. Did he go into my room?

He stays silent, avoiding eye contact. He sighs, hopping up onto the counter beside me, not looking at me as I just stare at him dumbfounded. This is probably the longest we'd stayed in a room alone together.

He glances at my wrist, his eyes scanning over the healing area. "Does it hurt?" He asks softly, looking at me.

I glance at him before looking down at the cup in my hands. "Not anymore," I answer. The bruise had died down after a few days, I kept it uncovered on purpose so I could rub it in Seonghwa's face a little.

He refused to look at me, not even in passing. Wooyoung and Hongjoong had tried to speak to me, but I'd ignored them. That's what they get for doing nothing. Wooyoung had gotten pouty once he realised I was ignoring him, whining whenever I'd walk away from him if he wanted to talk about his day. Hongjoong seemed to not care, his infuriating grin visible even in my peripherals.

I missed Seonghwa a little, which was strange considering what he had done. Maybe I missed the idea he had fatuated for me.

"Y/N?" Jongho calls out softly, causing me to snap out of my thoughts. "I am sorry... About all this."

"Why are you apologising?" It wasn't his fault, I was the one who agreed to do this, I wasn't forced.

"We should have warned you about things." He says, staring down at his feet that dangled. I took a moment to take in his attire. Rarely did I see them in something as basic as a shirt and sweatpants. Jongho only wore a baggy shirt and grey sweatpants in that moment, a look I could have never imagined on him up until this point.

"I knew I was getting into something shady." I say, "So don't feel bad for me."

Jongho hums softly, glancing at me briefly. "Why are you up so late?" He asks, looking me in the eye for the very first time. His eyes were so calm. Something about them made me want to fall into them and never return to this world.

"I'm scared of thunder." I say, causing him to raise his eyebrow. "You better not laugh." I huff.

"No, it's fine." He chuckles. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't like lightning."

I stiffle a snort. Big, gruff and scary Jongho is scared of lightning? Who would have guessed.

"I'm not laughing at you!" He complains, a small smile spreading across his lips.

"Is there a reason?" I ask, placing my cup down on the counter.

"I suppose." He says, face dropping. "Does your fear of thunder have a reason?" I nod in answer.

The night I left, my father chased me up the stairs in rage. I never thought he'd actually cared that much about my presence to be so angry that I had made it into the Society. I managed to lock myself in my room, but the banging on my door went on for hours. The profanities, the promise of my death, every possible name or slur under the sun was thrown at me that night. I managed to pack a bag and sneak out of my bedroom window, not even bothering with goodbyes.

My mother never came to help. No one did. My sister was too weak at that time to plead with him, and as far as I knew, Chalita was dead. I had no one.

I told Jongho the part about my father, I'd never told anyone about it before. But something about the boy next to me made me want to open up to him, to tell him everything.

He listened, his eyes never leaving my face as I talked for what felt like hours.

"I'm sorry." He says softly, hesitating for my hand before pulling away. "No child should ever go through something like that."

I nod in agreement. I'd come to terms with my shit childhood long ago, like most children of abuse do at a certain age. Though it sticks, you grow from it and vow to never repeat those actions again.

"What about you?" I ask suddenly.

"Me?"

"Why're you scared of lightning?" I ask.

Jongho looks around the kitchen for a moment before speaking. "When I was little, my house caught on fire. Electrical wire in my dads workshop caught on fire while I was at school. My younger brother decided to stay home that day too." He explains.

"I wasn't even there... Yet, for some reason, whenever I see lightning or wires just laying around, I get scared." I nod in understanding, and unlike him, I don't hesitate to take his hand. He looks at me, somewhat shocked before squeezing slightly.

"How old were you?" I ask.

"11." He answers. "I didn't grow up in this life. My families riches was nothing compared to this." He says, gesturing around, referring to the house in general.

"How did you get here then?" I ask.

"Yeosang found me." He says, looking towards the centre island. "I was working as a bouncer for a bar back in college and dealing with these two guys tryna get in without ID. Guess he liked me." He chuckles. I smile at his story. "By the time he convinced me to meet Hongjoong, everyone was almost here. Well, except Wooyoung." He states. "Wooyoung was the last to join."

I listen intently, picking up the small crumbs that I could about these men.

"They aren't that bad." He says, noticing my analysing. "They just... We all have our issues."

"Issues that involve threatening me?" I say, giving him a deadpanned look.

"Well, that was a bit much, I agree." He says with a sigh, looking down sheepishly.

"I just want to be accepted properly." I say, hopping off of the counter to stand in front of him. "I want to know you guys, I don't want to be an outcast or some woman that will one day give Hongjoong an heir." He flinches at my last sentence. I guess they didn't know that I knew of their true intentions.

Asami had laid it out for me during the brunch. I could respect her bluntness in all honesty.

"I don't want to be just an incubator."

"You're more than that." He blurts out. "Mingi can see it. I can see it." He hops down from the counter also, standing in front of me. "Look, I don't want to make excuses for them because what Seonghwa did was wrong." He says, gently tilting my chin up to look at him. "But that doesn't mean that they aren't trying."

"Well... They're not trying very hard." I grumble, causing him to chuckle. A rumble of thunder, which makes me jump in surprise, gripping Jongho's forarms tightly.

"Come on." He says, taking my hand and tugging me along. I follow mindlessly, as he leads me back towards the stairs and to my bedroom.

"I'll stay until you fall asleep." He offers, closing my door behind us. I head to my bed, not hesitating to jump onto the soft sheets. He comes to sit beside me, his feet still firmly on the floor as I sit up to look at him.

"You don't have to." I say softly, but he doesn't get up, only shifting a little closer.

"I want to." He whispers. "I know I don't talk much." He starts, his breath fanning across my face. "But I think you are one of the prettiest women I have ever laid eyes on."

In an instant, I feel his lips on mine, his tongue running across my lower lip seeking entry. I grant it, much to my own surprise, humming softly as he gently moves me to lay down against the soft cushions.

A heat stirs inside me as he pulls away, his hard gaze boaring down at me so intensely my skin felt on fire. I pull him down again, tangling my fingers in his hair, causing a soft moan to escape his lips. He grinds his hips down on mine, desperately seeking friction as his hands scrunch up the sheets around my head.

"Do you want this?" He whispers, his lips hovering close to my ear.

"Yes." I say, voice could barely be heard over the thundering of rain outside. But, he heard me. His lips moved to my jaw, then to my neck, then finally his fingers unbuttoned the first button of my pyjama top to reveal my collarbone and top of my cleavage. He left soft bites and sloppy kisses there. My hand stayed behind his head as he went, my fingers tugging on his hair lightly with every little nibble he punctured into my skin.

He looked up at me through hooded eyes before moving down, his hands spreading my thighs further apart to make space for him before his hands found the waistband of my shorts. A flicker of question flashed into his eyes, darkening once more when I nodded.

He pulls my shorts and panties down together, throwing them towards the end of the bed before lifting my thighs to rest on his shoulders. I could feel his breath, cold against the searing heat of my core.

I laid my head back, waiting for contact with bated breath. He moved his head forward, pressing his tongue flat against my clit to test the waters. When my body jolts, he moves to my core, groaning at the taste before beginning to devour me like it's his last meal.

The storm outside is forgotten. All I can feel is the way Jongho explores and brings me pleasure I have never felt before with only his tongue. I look down, my eyes meeting his as he watches my every reaction, my bodies movements, and facial expressions with every flick of his tongue. He reaches a thumb up to gently circle my clit, causing me to let out a soft gasp.

My moans are soft and high pitched, only stirring him in more as he presses his face impossibly closer, practically smothering himself with my slick.

I can feel my orgasm approaching, the cord in my stomach tightening as I neared the edge. I knew he could tell, the way his thumb moved faster over my clit, bringing me closer and closer as if coaxing me towards release.

I felt something snap, letting out a soft cry as the pleasure washed over me. He helped me through it, not pulling away until my body fell limp and my breathing steadied. He slowly moves back up my body, pressing a gentle kiss to my forhead before laying down beside me.

"What about you?" I ask softly, my voice hoarse.

"I'll be fine." He answers, his strong arm pulling me closer. "You can return the favour another day."

Feeling watched wasn't an odd thing. It had started since the first time I noticed Aurora's portrait, and I found a comfort in it.

The presence didn't feel hostile, despite the lack of affection from the men I lived with, making this odd prison feel a little warmer.

I heard a call of my name on the breeze as it flowed through the winding halls of the estate. It was as if it was beckoning me towards Hongjoongs office, one of two places I was forbidden to go. I knew if he'd found out I went in there, Seonghwas threat would become reality. However, that didn't deter me.

I waited until I was home alone, which was normally between 7am and 5pm on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, giving me plenty of time to snoop. I had no idea what I was looking for in hindsight, but someone wanted me in there. Or something.

Hongjoongs office was a mess. Books staked to great heights and pushed away into corners of the room, his desk covered with so many papers I could only get a glimpse of the desks surface.

I move around the office, careful not to trip on anything as I look at a specific bookshelf full of folders. The folders had names written on the side, all members of high society. I stopped briefly when I saw my own name, the dust on the shelf indicating it had been recently taken down and put back. I looked for others with similar dust patterns. Kim Namjoon, YangYang Liu, Lalisa Manoban. I paused when I saw it, my breath hitching and heart stopping briefly; Chalita L/N. My sister.

Hongjoong had a file on my sister? The one I pursumed dead over 10 years ago. Why?

I take the file, staring down at the cover for a moment before opening it. There were photos from our childhood, of her, myself, and our youngest sister, all smiles without a care in the world. She was 7 years older and was a firecracker, to say the least. I missed her.

I heard the front door open and close downstairs, making the hairs on my arms stand up. Did one of them come home? I glance around, noticing Hongjoongs laptop still sitting on his desk. Shit. I stood my ground despite the fear coursing through my veins. He knew something about my sister, I had to know what.

When his office door swung open, he stood there in shock. For once, I had him by surprise, and it had me thrilled.

"What are you doing here?" Hongjoong snaps, his eyes turning into a glare.

"What do you know about her?" I ask, ignoring his question and holding up the file. "What do you know about my sister?"

"Put it back. You shouldn't be in here." He snaps, stepping closer, but I raise the file in defence.

"Don't tou dare tell me what to do when you've done nothing but lie to my face!" I yell, causing him to step back.

"Okay. I'm sorry." He says gently, holding his hands up.

"Cut the act." I scowl, causing his face to relax into a teasing grin.

"You're picking up fast, Princess." He chuckles, stepping closer and gripping the file and ripping it from my hands. He walks towards the window, gazing down at the cover.

"Chalita is a topic of interest right now." He says simply. He glances at me for a moment, studying me. "So it's true you thought she was dead?"

"How did you-?"

"I know a lot of things." Hongjoong says. "Everyone my men come in contact with, everyone you know, everyone that you will know, I know them all." He says, walking to stand in front of me again.

"How did you know I thought she was dead?" I ask.

"Your father did that. Told everyone that she was years ago." He explains. "Said he found her mutilated, like a victim of The Cobra." He says, noticing the flicker of familiarity in my gaze.

"But she's alive?" I ask.

"Yes." He answers simply, sliding the file back into its place. "Now, should I tell Seonghwa you snuck into my office?"

I scoff. "Do it, when he comes raging, I'll already be out the door." I say, turning on my heel before he stops me, taking my wrist gently.

"He is sorry." Hongjoong says, but I don't turn around.

"It's not an apology if it comes from someone else." I say, ripping my hand away and walking out into the hallway. I stop for a moment. "Maybe you and the others should take notes from Mingi and Jongho. Or have they not told you of our time together?" I ask, turning to see his puzzled expression.

"What?"

"I see they left details out." I laugh, turning once again and heading back towards my room with a skip in my step, knowing full well Hongjoong is watching my every move.

By 8pm I was hiding away in my room once again. I hoped Mingi or Jongho would join me, my stomach feeling giddy at the feeling.

When I heard someone knock on the door, a smile spread across my face. I jumped up and shuffled hastily to the door, only for my smile to drop when I realised that it was neither.

Seonghwa stood there, one hand behind his back and the other reaching out to stop the door from slamming shut in his face. It backfired, his fingers getting wedged roughly in the door causing him to let out a grunt of pain. I swing the door open again in shock, staring at his fingers and then at him.

"Guess that makes us even." He jokes through gritted teeth, cradling his hand against his chest. That's when I noticed it, a box clutched tightly in the hand that was hidden. "Can we talk?"

I blink for a moment, processing his words before foolishly stepping aside. He enters slowly, making his way to my bed and sitting down on the end. I stay standing, opting to sit on the loveseat by the window.

"I'm sorry." He says, breaking the awkward tension. "I shouldn't have reacted that way."

"Yea, you shouldn't have." I say, crossing my arms. He huffs softly, a smile spreading across his face.

"I promise I'll do better to keep my anger in check. I did not mean to hurt you. Understand that." He says, moving now to kneel on both knees in front of me. "You were right with what you said with Jongho. You don't deserve to be just a woman to us when you've accepted us so kindly and without much complaint." He says, flattening my palm and placing the box in my hand.

"What is this?" I ask.

"A peace offering." He says, gesturing for me to open it. I do, shocked by what I find inside.

It's a ring, but not an engagement ring. It was an exact replica of the one each of them had on their finger. Signifying their bond to each other, that they were a family. This ring would mean they were recognising me as one of them. How good did Jongho talk me up?

"Seonghwa.."

"You don't have to accept it right away." He says. "Just- Know that we're trying."

My gaze softens as I look at the ring. The details are so much clearer now, every dent and engraving.

"I know." I whisper, looking up at him. "And I'm trying to."

taglist

@bellaptv @arilevenatz @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @hecateslittlewitchling

@neuviloved @monstacheol @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone

@vtyb23 @bigbabygremlin @professormingisglasses

@pinuspot @astral-trashcan @ateezswonderland @joonhasjiminsjams @atzlordz @lightwxodd

[darkietrashcan]

Analysis on Izuocha and Bakudeku

An epilogue about moving forward

This post contains spoilers for the end of the manga and volume 42

Izuocha.

I haven’t thought about them in a long while… it was the first ship I sailed for when I started MHA, then I deviated to Bakudeku. But please, I am not a biased woman on neither behalf. I will express my analysis and opinions on the matter as a shipper for both who CAN analyze facts with objectivity:

Bakudeku was NEVER gonna be canon and many of us knew it: first of all, because Horikoshi is a middle aged man writing a Shonen. Sorry for being so stereotypical, but it is a fair assumption to make.

Second of all, the blushing, man. Izuku blushed every time he was near to her: he was attracted. Maybe not a full developed crush but there was something stirring him up. Uraraka was a person Izuku admired.

She was the person that gave him the nickname Deku. SHE changed the meaning Bakugo had gave him initially: from useless, to a man who does his best. Uraraka did a wonderful thing right there and it stuck to Deku until the end of the series.

She also was his first friend alongside Iida and Todoroki. Healthy relationships.

Uraraka developed a crush. She was mesmerized and when she realized that plus the fact Izuku was so set to meet his goals, that she set her crush aside to follow her own path: she built her way towards becoming a woman with own goals to pursue. She no longer depended on that crush.

Toga came.

Firstly, she didn’t understand her. She hurt Toga’s feelings and something stirred her up since then.

(During these times, Deku leaves U.A and Uraraka gives her beautiful speech: she connects the people with Deku, and, begs for him to get recognized. A beautiful action.)

Let’s get back to Toga now that I got that fact out of the way.

Her view about life changed, so did Izuku’s with Tomura. They were the only ones who could talk about it, since they experienced similar situations. Uraraka is set to her goal of reaching Toga.

Here is where, for me, things change between them. I viewed Izuocha as a thing before Toga, before Uraraka decided to move on. Then, I viewed them more as very close friends. But it seems like feelings aren’t forgotten and this connection regarding saving other people: Tomura and Toga, united them spiritually.

In fact Uraraka never stopped thinking about Toga.

And this leads me to think that this epilogue meant more than just an ending to their individual stories. Because if you read my other analysis, you understand that I believe that Bakugo never stopped chasing Deku.

While Deku after losing OFA moves forward, becoming a teacher… Bakugo never let go of OFA: competing with Deku literally turned him into a better person. So he sought for that dream, built Izuku a suit, asked him to join his agency but Izuku refused. Because Izuku had moved on. And so had to do Katsuki. And for bkdks it hurts like hell because it is a new step into their relationship: growing as separate adults, who are FRIENDS now, fucking finally. They had a happy ending. But it hurt bkdk’s because Katsuki never let go and I am sure, had their relationship been romantically coded, with them blushing and acknowledging crushes like on Izuochas behalf, I would have taken it as a romantic rejection, too.

But it wasn’t bakudeku’s path because Katsuki’s story always was about learning to ackowledge his mistakes and atone. His story was never a queerbait because romance wasn’t a main focus to explore for his character. All that were just headcanons.. The reason why the apology felt like a freaking romantic confession for bkdks: While, in fact, it was the climax for his character development. Apologizing was finally accepting what he did and growing beyond that. And all the extra stuff just proves how regretful he is because of the bullying he did.

(One thing I have always been greatful for was that Izuku never replied to Katsuki’s apology because it was never needed. The apology was meant to be done, and done. Katsuki never expected a reply either because he understoos just what I said.)

Let’s sum this up: in this epilogue, Katsuki had to learn to move forward, get over Izuku.

And in my opinion it was now Uraraka’s turn to move past Toga: her guilt was paralyzing her. The path that initially made her into a separate woman from Izuku, with own goals to pursue, is now a weight to carry. Plus it is not that she didn’t do anything about it: from the epilogue it seems she has sort of an agency going on and the program to help children!? She is twenty five and accomplished so, so much!

Here is what bugs me from the epilogue: I believe theur romantic relationship was rushed because it was a short timeskip! Had this been long, had their introspection gone a bit longer, I would have believed it and sailed for them.

Izuocha went from a crush, to a strong, deep friendship, whose romantic undertondes diminished as time went by. The flames were never blown away: I do believe they loved each other deeply since the first day. But, since they had different goals, (Toga and Tomura) a romance couldn’t blossom.

But now, Izuku became a teacher separate from OFA and knows what he wants to do. And Uraraka also did her thing: the path cleared for both of them to explore their relationship.

Because, Toga became a weight for Ochako to carry, and it is not that her character becomes a push for a heterosexual relationship. Toga was not diminished to that! Toga was the representation of Ochako’s growth, because all she did, she did for Toga. For her story to not repeat a cycle. When she pushes Ochako, she’s freeing her. So that she can grow besides Toga: she already did a lot to pay homage to her. So yes, Toga pushes a heterosexual relationship but her character WAS NOT REDUCED TO A TOOL! She is pushing her to a new path, and this path is coincidentically a romantic path.

And deepening his relationship with Deku was Horikoshi’s idea of moving forward, for them, at least. Why is it bad that they decide to get together?

As Bakudeku’s we dreamt of a future where Bakugo and Deku get together building an agency together or just competing. Our moving forward was them to become a couple or a team or whatever. We dreamt of them getting together.

Now when it gets to Izuocha it is bad because they can’t grow as separate adults? When it is their choice to get together? This is their choice of keep growing as adults, explore a romantic relationship!? Isn’t this the same like bakudekus desire but for their ship?

(My ship too, bcs I always bkdk>izch)

So yes. I believe Izuocha was rushed, and a bit forced. But it is mainly due to HOW SHORT THE EPILOGUE WAS! Had it been longer with more introspection… man I would have bought it.

But I also as a mha fan have to accept that stories need to conclude and Hori can’t keep drawing and epilogue forever.

I am sure a lot of pieces are not put in this puzzle because this analysis stems from rough translations from the leaks.

But this is what I think about Izuocha and Bakudeku. And boy, if you don’t ship bkdk good for you, but as a HUUGE fan, I am hurt like hell.

(read my other analysis to understand)

[pipsqueaks89934]

December 1st: Gifts

Warnings: stalking, kidnapping, blood, gore, age gap, getting knocked out, Yandere stuff

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ever since December 1st, you've been getting these weird gifts in the mail like jewelry, your favorite snacks, stuffed animals, and other things. Of course, you didn't mind it, I mean who wouldn't like gifts? You just thought it was just your boyfriend or friends being nice but when you tried to thank any of them they all refused to give them to you with a confused look on their faces. Even after talking to everyone you knew about the gifts you were getting, they wouldn't stop if anything they were getting a little alarming like on top of the nicely wrapped gift would be a note, drops of a mysterious red liquid, or a text from a random number telling you that your gift has arrived and he can't wait for you to see what's inside.

“Babe, there's another gift and the note says I can't wait to see you soon!” you say into your phone as the voicemail lady asks you if you want to re-record your message.

As you put your phone away into your pocket you look at the onymous gift that has been left on your doorstep. After a few minutes, you decide that it would be best if you brought it inside since you felt like someone was watching your every move.

What could my boyfriend be doing that's more important than answering his phone?

While you look at the beautiful wrapped present something inside of you is telling you not to open it and call the cops. Despite your better judgment, you get your box cutter and open up the mysterious gift that your stalker gave you. When you opened the box the sight inside made you scream and call 911.

“911 what’s your emergency?” the lady on the other end said politely.

“MyboyfriendsheadisinthisboxthatsomerandompersongavemeSENDSOMEONENOW!” you said quickly as you yelled the last part into the poor girl's ear.

“Ma’am you need to calm down,” the lady said with a hint of sympathy in her tone. “Now tell me again but this time slower.”

“My boyfriend’s head is in this present that some psycho gave me, can you send someone now?” you try to say calmly but you are still in a panic.

“I'll have officers at your house soon,” the lady said hurriedly as she began to panic. “Can you answer a few questions for me first?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“How long have you known the victim?”

“A few months.”

“Where did you meet?”

“A mutual friend's birthday party.”

“Did you ever want to hurt him in any way, shape, or form?”

“What no, he was my boyfriend!”

“Did you ever hurt him in any way, shape, or form?”

“No!”

“Did he ever hurt you in any way, shape, or form?”

“No.”

“Do you know who did this to your boyfriend or anyone who might have done this?”

“No, not that I can think of.”

“Did you touch any part of the crime scene?”

“Only the note, the envelope, the box, the box cutter.”

“Okay, the police should be there shortly, can you stay on the line until they get there?”

“Yes!”

A few seconds later you heard a pounding on the door with the words, ‘This is the police’ following after it.

“I think the police are here,” you say quietly into your phone to the lady. “I'm going to go let them in!”

“Alright, call again if you or they need anything!” she said before you hit the hang-up button.

After the call, you walked to your front door so you could let the police in but before you could get a good look at the policemen you were knocked out. When you woke up you saw a man that you'd seen a few times at work standing in front of you.

“Why am I here? Where are the cops? Who are you? Where am I?” you asked the man in a panic while looking around the room.

“Wow, so many questions,” the man laughed as if you had said something funny. “Well to start I’m Landon, I'm 23, you're in my basement, and the cops are never going to find us. I saw you at your work and I just thought you were the cutest little thing so I started to send you gifts but you ruined it by calling the cops.”

“But I don't know you!” you said before Landon bent down in front of you.

“That’s okay because I know you and we have all the time in the world for you to know me,” he said while rubbing your thigh. “The sad thing is that you have to stay down here until I can trust you but don't worry you have everything you need.”

[prcttylittlebirds]

there’s a feeling that gabriel used to get when venus spoke to him. when she looked at him, it was like he was the only one in the room. just him and her. now, there’s nothing and he knows it, but he refuses to let go because the joyous feeling that made him clutch at his chest with admiration and desire is replaced with a dull ache and longing. “no matter what i say or do, it has the same outcome with you venus. i could do more, i could take accountability. who cares? no matter what side i show it’s all the same to you.” he leans his head back on the couch, not saying a word because once again, he’s out of them and he’s growing tired of not getting anywhere with her. it’s the same thing every time. her genuine distaste for him as a person, makes him feel empty. it doesn’t hurt to hear her say she wouldn’t spit on him if he was on fire, by now he expects her to say things like that. “i shouldn’t be shocked by anything you say anymore— and i’m not… the things we’ve done for each other.. don’t outweigh the things we’ve done to each other. i literally am trying my hardest to fix things. all of the things i said in the car wasn’t all that i could do, but really why would i if you act like i’m the worst person on earth?” there’s anger somewhere in between those words. “i don’t want someone new! fuck, if i wanted to keep fucking around with randoms i wouldn’t be taking to you.” he snaps.

gabriel lets out an exasperated groan. when venus follows him into the living room, so does the thick cloud of tension. if he could smoke without falling back into drinking heavily, today would be the perfect day to. whenever they had these types of arguments, things always went way beyond what they should verbally. “i’m not only speaking to you because i wanted the kids back i want you back too. then again, that doesn’t matter. you don’t give a shit nothing i say to you makes a difference. you basically keep saying that.” gabe can never seem to get her to see his point of view without fighting with her and vice versa. the two always say such harsh and berating things to each other, and he usually is the first to crack because he feels ignored. “dumbass? okay, venus. you’ve said worse so, whatever. i may be delusional at times, but i really am trying. everything i have said has been the truth, but you’re so stuck on hating me and finding ways get the last deep cut, you can’t even see when i’m being sincere.” he rolls his eyes when she brings up his addictions. “ you know what? maybe I would like to not be drunk or high? you know… break that cycle you bring up when i mention wanting to be a better father or missing you. maybe this time no amount of alcohol will help me.” he pauses to take a minute and sit on his couch. there’s still no direct eye contact because he just can’t. “i’m upset because we can’t even do something as simple as eat dessert in my fucking car without you rejecting my attempts. but you’re so eager to go on a date with this new guy. while i’m breaking my fucking back to fix everything.”

[o-lanterns]

your parent/s 🤝 my dad

loving the big bang theory and mcu garbage

I gave up trying to explain to my mom why I don't like the big bang theory and how Sheldon is an autistic caricature, but she was like 'but Sheldon's my favorite! He's so funny! Oh but I'm not laughing *at* him, it's different.' okay mother well the show plays a laugh track every time he talks. There's a scene where, in a children's book store, he sees toys and goes "Oh, I love trains!" To which the employee says "Of course you do."

Sure totally nothing wrong with finding that funny. Not an insult to people like me at all. See it's okay because it's something she likes, which can never have things wrong with it.

[bestworstcase]

your point about team rwby being the maidens’ liberators made me think - do you think blake is going to have a special connection to the summer maiden? I noticed that she’s the only one who hasn’t been close to a maiden yet

i think gillian asturias is the summer maiden (and this post is hysterical in hindsight. at the time i wrote it, the full-length v9 epilogue hadn’t been released yet so we’d only seen qrow’s section and about half of winter’s – hence my pausing to lay out the argument for salem going to vale next and making a pretense of hedging my bets on the crown being narratively central in v10. lol)

now! with regard to blake and the summer maiden, the common thinking here seems to mostly run along the lines of “…and that’s why summer maiden ilia,” or the more general speculation that the summer maiden will be a faunus character.

to this i say:

it’s a fallacy to conflate “blake will probably have a strong narrative connection to the summer maiden” with “the summer maiden necessarily is or will be blake’s old friend,” and the argument for ilia being due for maidenhood is quite thin otherwise, and

blake can and does have important narrative connections to characters who aren’t faunus, and it’s a weird to presume that in order for the summer maiden to have a meaningful tie to blake, she must be a faunus herself.

to expand on that first point, let’s consider the personal relationships between each of the maidens so far and ruby / weiss / yang:

pyrrha -> ruby’s friend

cinder -> ruby’s personal enemy

raven -> yang’s estranged mother

penny -> ruby’s friend

winter -> weiss’s beloved sister

the takeaway here – other than that if you’re ruby’s friend and someone offers you to become a maiden you should refuse – is half the relations between maidens and members of team rwby are antagonistic. (raven seems likely to at least try making amends with yang in v10, but as it stands in the narrative right now things between them are very fraught.)

it is just as likely that blake’s narrative connection to the summer maiden might develop through a personal conflict between them, rather than friendship. yes?

and, if i’m right about gill being the summer maiden, well—stop me if you’ve heard this one: a girl with a driving, passionate ambition to uplift her people from the ashes of centuries of conquest and subjugation is radicalized by a boy she loves who pulls them both deeper and deeper into violent, spiteful extremism that ultimately harms the very people they claim to fight for, until he finally crosses a line she can’t accept and she says no i will not.

that’s blake and adam but it’s also gillian and her brother. the difference between them is that blake’s red line was adam glibly revealing that the train heist was actually intended to be a massacre whereas gillian’s was jax stating his intention to commit suicide rather than retreat and live to fight another day; she helped yatsu subdue him specifically to save jax’s life, not because she had a crisis of conscience about their movement.

(there is a certain—really irritating—contingent of CFVY novel readers who project their own dislike of jax onto gill and insist that she turned against him because he demanded she ‘sacrifice her life’ to save him, which 1. he didn’t, he asked her to give him all her aura and then bodily shielded her because he’s physically bigger than she is so this was at worst a “if we’re going down together, i’ll make them go through me first,” 2. if gill only wanted to save her own neck all she had to do was rip her aura out of him and bounce, and 3. she explicitly says that the reason she did what she did is because he’s her brother, she loves him, and she couldn’t let him die.)

the point being, gill is still a radical; her soft betrayal of jax revealed her priorities in that she loves her brother more than The Cause, but in no way did it represent a break from her belief in the cause. if the epilogue is any indication, she’s just as committed to overthrowing shade academy as before. (and i think there’s a real chance that her actions will have improved her relationship with jax to some degree, because he believed she didn’t care about him at all! he thought she only stuck with him because his semblance compelled her to do so! and then gillian exploded his mind by revealing that his semblance straight up doesn’t work on her and she just loves him. which, if the twins are on the same page now, cuts down on the internal tension and likely makes them more dangerous adversaries to the coalition.)

but her history, the way she became like this, is eerily similar to blake’s radicalization in the white fang, and i think blake would certainly be able to piece that together. she’s also by far the member of team rwby i would say is most likely to recognize and relate to the genuine pain at the heart of the crown’s movement—vacuo has suffered.

vacuo wasn’t even a state until the end of the great war. it was a mistrali territory. its people were enslaved and worked to death in a systematic and horrifyingly effective project to extract every last speck of valuable resources from the region, and then even statehood was a slap in the face because they were left to fend for themselves in a barren wasteland whose ecosystem had been completely and utterly destroyed.

the crown is a mirror held up to the white fang; blake is insightful and empathetic enough to realize these similarities and see herself and her past mistakes reflected in gillian, but this time she’s an outsider to the movement—she can’t effect change from within or reclaim the true, important work from the vengeful extremists. so she’s limited in what she can do, practically, even as it’s going to be painfully clear to her that the crown is falling into the same trap adam did.

and at the same time, the new white fang will in all likelihood either be in vacuo or show up to join the coalition in v10, so blake’s part in her own movement, her place in her community, can be directly juxtaposed with her opposition to/empathy for the crown.

v9 sets up for this with blake’s advocacy for the afterans—v7-8 do as well to a lesser extent, because blake is still dealing with the personal fallout of v4-6 and thus is quieter about mantle than say, nora is, but like. blake draws a comparison between her experiences in the white fang and with adam and the moral compromises ironwood starts making after the election. it just seems… pretty clear to me that the narrative has been setting up blake to play a pivotal role in relation to the crown since at least v4 if not earlier, depending on how granular the vacuo outline was during v1-3.

so this is a narrative connection i very much expect blake to have with gillian regardless, but… if gill is the maiden…

well, she’s certainly not trapped inside ozpin’s vault/key maiden paradigm! so in that case what does it look like for a member of team rwby to fulfill this narrative role of liberation? probably something like de-radicalizing her and her brother by convincing them there is a better way forward than their divisive, violent, paranoid ideology. and blake is unquestionably the member of team rwby best equipped to get the ball rolling there.

further, blake’s semblance is a really strong counter to gill’s – that’s true of ruby and weiss as well, because gillian has to touch a person in order to steal aura and so agile, fast opponents are going to be tougher for her in general. but blake has two more things going for her beyond the basic mobility advantage, vis-a-vis making it personal:

the illusionary aspect of blake’s semblance will allow her to create decoys, which is a very powerful tactical advantage against an opponent who really wants to grab her, and

blake’s girlfriend is a hand-to-hand fighter, and an incredibly brave one with an intense protective instinct at that.

clears throat. we all remember yang getting possessed in rwby x jl part 2, yes? and blake clocking it instantly? well.

if blake and gillian are meant to be not just foils but personal adversaries in the vein of ruby and cinder—yang’s gonna get got. agile though she is, as a hand-to-hand combatant yang is unavoidably much more vulnerable to the twins’ contact-based semblances than the rest of her team, her personality will make it very hard for her to play it safe and stay back if it comes to an open fight, and there is nothing the narrative could do to lock in that personal enmity that would be punchier than yang being compromised.

even if gill as a personal adversary to blake isn’t in the cards i expect yang to get got anyway because, let’s be honest: do we really expect crwby to set themselves up with a golden opportunity to do a climactic love-overcomes-mind-control scene with the bees in v10 and then not take it? with how nuts the entire creative team goes for these two? after the climactic battle in ice queendom hingeing on yang being able to free blake from a nightmare with the mere lesser power of unrealized lesbianism? do we reeeally believe they would pass that up? lol.

[southern--downpour]

having upsetting thoughts about the “live” ending

[dreamsy990]

made two of the characters i designed for ffxiv girlfriends or something

[draculas-husband]

Since apparently people are still refusing to stop giving JKR money by staying loyal fans of hp I feel the need to say something that could maybe help people realize that they don't need HP. Like even if we for a second were to just entertain the idea that enjoying what you have and not watching or purchasing more hp stuff didn't harm the people JKR is specifically targeting with her hate. You still choose to talk about the media and give it traction fully knowing it was made with a lot of hateful messages behind it and in it. So I'd like to ask you.. If you are attached to the chars and universe, what is stopping you from making your own ocs and worlds based on them instead? Make your own wizard universe that's seperate from HP. Take what you loved about this media and distance yourself from everything else by letting it go and creating something new that's yours and made with love. Something that isn't full of hate, bigotry or targets minorities. I may not have been a big hp fan myself but there were def characters I liked a lot and related to, to some extent. Characters who I will gladly take elements from and channel into something made with love and out of love. But even if I was never big on hp that doesn't mean that there aren't medias I used to love that turned out to have a really shitty creator behind it so I understand that it hurts and that it's hard to let go.. But there is such a huge difference between finding out how horrible a creator that is long dead was while enjoying their work and actively enjoying something and talking about something which whose creator is actively funding hateful groups that targets not only me but a major fuck ton of people around the globe simply for existing. I doubt any of you want your love for something to hurt others and I mean actually hurt people. Not just make someone uncomfortable.. But the sad truth is, it does hurt people if you hold onto HP and keep engaging with the hp works that are still being made. So please.. Let go of HP and just make something similar yourself without the hate instead.

If you however still choose to engage with HP material and buy merch etc, etc.. Please do me a solid and block me and never speak to me again.

Richard out!

[kanene-yaaay]

Secrets and the Pros and Cons of Not Running Away

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

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

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

[~*~]

Forever woke up. 

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

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

Their kids were gone. 

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

The island was in scrambles, empty. 

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

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

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

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

He left everyone. His family. His friends.

(What more could he do?)

And everyone should've left him too.

…

And yet…

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

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

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

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

Once again, there were tears in his eyes. 

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

He cried.

(What else could he do?)

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

Almost hopeful, even.

And yet their children were gone.

And yet everyone was kind of lost.

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

Forever didn’t feel strong.

(What would he do?)

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

The president of Quesadilla Island woke up.

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

[~*~]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pfff- hahaha!”

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

“Philza! Really?” 

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

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

“You’re-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Saudade.

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

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

“Stop with that, man! It tickles.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that was enough.

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

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

Philza sighed, looking ten thousands of years older.

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

The president, his friend, nodded.

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

[~*~] 

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

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

It started with a jumpscare.

“FOREVER!”

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

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

It took exactly one second. 

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

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

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

“Where! is! it!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nonono, stop that! BA-ad!”

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

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

Tease him out of his mind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re such a liar.”

“Oh why, thank you.”

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

Besides, Forever also wasn’t pushing him away.

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

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

Their eyes met.

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

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

“So, Badboyhalo…”

“Yes?”

Forever’s grip got more firm. 

Bad’s pull got equally stronger. 

They kept smiling.

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

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

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

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

“Hmmm… no, actually. I’m not.”

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

Bingo.

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

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

Lots of laughter filled the afternoon, that day.

[~*~]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[~*~]

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

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

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

That is the President of Quesadilla Island, everyone.

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

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

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

Forever nodded, not really believing.

“You worry too much, my friend.”

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

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

“Alright, alright, alright.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The three kids danced in excitement.

(...)

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

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

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

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

He immediately became wary.

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

Both siblings immediately nodded.

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

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

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

He put a sign on the ground.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just agree to give them anything then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Richas looked at his dad. 

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

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

And so, he smirked. 

Placed a sign.

‘Both?’

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

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

They did not, in fact, wait.

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

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

[primus-why]

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