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cat-mentality · 6 months

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PLS ELABORATE ON THIS [the theory on which eggs fit which sins]

OKAY BUCKLE UP ANON!!!! This is straight up tin foil hat territory, i'm just like manifesting from nothing because it is incredibly fun in my mind

For this to make a little of sense i'm going to consider Purgatory as my catholic school taught me- A place where the sinners go to repent to their sins, either for all of eternity, if the sins are too big or too terrible, or until they have been forgiven and i'm taking Dante's inferno as my guideline on how this whole thing operates.

I'm also going with the theory that Black Cucurucho was the one responsible for taking the eggs/scaring them away, maybe to make them vulnerable and fall on his trap, is my personal theory that the Black Cucurucho is literally the anti-Federation, as in order versus chaos and as such he is looking to destroy everything the Federation is building and using the egg's to do so (and also Cellbit!!! If it's not the Rebels giving him the information i bet on Black Cucurucho more than the Feds themselves).

So, basically: The eggs get kidnapped by this new strange force (not evil per say, not more than the Federation itself, but less interested in pretending not to be, like the Anfitrião in Ordem Paranormal) and they get stuck in Purgatory, who is made by 9th circles, divided by the type of sinners they are set to punish. The tickets are the passage to get into the circles, Virgil acted as Dante's guide in this case the train will be responsible for taking them from one circle (island) to the next IF they manage to complete whatever task will be set in their way.

I believe the placement of each egg (in my delulu head) has less to do with their own sins, as the Black Cucurucho is not really interested in them but rather in the suffering he can inflict on the parents using them, but in the mortal flaw he sees on their parents.

Chayenne i would put being stuck in the 1st circle, Limbo. It's the less worse of the nine as it is the place where the unbaptized and virtuous pagan stay, endlessly walking in eternal darkness.

Why you ask me?

Well Chayenne IS the son of the Angel of Death. His other father is also a being blessed by death (or cursed with life, your pick). He worships the Blood God. He is dear to the Goddess of Death herself.

What's more pagan than that?

Besides Chayenne IS virtuous himself, he is a warrior, devout to the Blood God however not for bloodlust, but for the desire of protecting those he loves and cherishes. Little Chayenne, walking endlessly searching for his siblings, praying to his fathers' goddesses to shine a light, to show him the way, to protect his siblings, but receiving nothing back as the goddesses is forbidden from interfering with the living, even the ones toying the line into her realm.

I actually changed my mind and we are putting Tallulah in the 2nd circle, Luxury. Now, we about to play loose with the definition of luxury here as this is the circle where the damned are tormented with strong winds that drag them through hell, i'm focusing not on Luxury as a carnal sin, but rather the element of desire.

And for this we are going to consider Wilbur as the parent being punished, not Philza.

Wilbur who left for fame.

Wilbur who left for months and months and months. Who lusted for the world, who wanted to be known, who wanted to be adored, who lusted after a life of his dreams.

Wilbur who in his lust for the world forgot the one person who always considered him her whole world.

Tallulah lusting after safety, lusting for a place to belong, lusting to leave a mark in the world so that it doesn't forget her, trying to grab onto anything to prove her worth and her value but now being stuck in those winds. dragged without a destination, powerless and alone.

Pomme is then in the 3rd circle, Gluttony. The 3rd circle is the circle for those who were gluttons, who over indulged, are now stuck in pits of dirty, freezing mud, tormented by Cerberus and also a storm of snow, hail and thunder.

Etoiles, always hungry for the next fight, for the next dungeon, for the next opponent.

Baghera always hungry for answers, for things she cannot have, cannot do (she wants an explanation about what happened to her, she wants to save her friends when she cannot even save herself, she desires for the world to be good and kind).

Antoine, always hungry for power, selling his soul, his family, to achieve it. Devouring faces, devouring stories, devouring lives, swallowing everything whole until he doesn't even know who he was supposed to really be.

Pierre always hungry for connection, for warmth, hungry for those he meets, trying to fill the void in his heart with the temporary warmth of another body.

Pomme hungry for adventures, hungry to prove that she is worth of love (she remembers, those first days, the distrusts, the coldness, the way they considered not taking her and she never wants to feel that cold), Pomme being stuck, helpless when she knows so very well that helplessness gets you killed, that it makes you weak and unworthy.

The 4th circle, Avarice is empty, of the eggs at least. A respite, as much as they can have in that place.

They find Ramon in the 5th circle, Wrath. Localized on the Styx, the river that cuts through the Purgatory, made of boiling water and blood, that is the place where the wrathful are locked on eternal fights on the surface of the river, on the bottom the sullen are forever stuck drowning on the things they never got to say.

Fit who lived his whole life in a desolate wasteland where fighting was the only thing he could do. Fit who knew no rest, no peace, no sound of those fighting and those dying.

Fit who fought his whole life, who is still fighting, who doesn't know how to rest, who doesn't know how to forgive, who chokes on his wrath, who forces it down his throat because he wants to be better but anger was all that he knew during most of his life.

Fit who looks at those people in their eternal battle, bleeding and making others bleed for no reason, with no end in sight, with no real purpose but to cause harm, and feels at home.

Ramon who tries so hard to be light, to support and help his father in whatever he needs, who drowns his own feelings because he doesn't want to bother others, because he wants to be the rock they can lean on, drowning at the bottom of the Styx.

Leonarda is on the 6th circle, Heresy. This is the circle where the sinners had the intention of sinning, the one destined to those who denied the existence of god, who went against the beliefs of their time, and now they lay on open graves as fire burns them.

And what is Foolish if not a non believer?

He believes in no god, no authority, no deity. He believes in himself, he believes in his family, he believes in what he thinks is right.

Oh he plays pretend of course, he smiles at the Federation, he works for them, he joins the Ordo, he participates in their reunions, but do he believe in any of them? Does he commit to one dogma over the other?

Of course not.

Foolish is a non believer. He will join the side that offers him the most, he will betray them as easily as he joined, he will jump from a place to another as long as that keeps his family safe, as long as that is what is better for them.

Foolish who sins and smiles as he does so.

Little Leonarda who believes in her Pa above everything and anything else, burning in a never ending fire. Little Leonarda who doesn't give a fuck about anything else as long as he is okay, as long as he is by her side, who would follow him into whatever mess he got himself into, who couldn't care less about other's morals or expectations, who would gladly sin as long as they are together.

Richarlyson is on the 7th circle, Violence. This circle is actually divided in three parts but i think only two would be used the Valley of the Phlegethon where the ones who were violent against others were submerged on a river of the blood of those they hurt, and the valley of the suicidal, where those who were violent against themselves became either trees, eaten by harpies or chased by hungry dogs.

And well, it's self explanatory isn't it?

Who has spilled more blood than Cellbit? Between the war, the prison and not the Island he has enough blood on his account to drown them all.

Forever? Oh there are bloodbaths in his past too. There is rage that blinds, that takes hold of him and only leaves when he is standing in the aftermath of a carnage.

Mike does not mind blood. Never has, never will.

And who hurts Pac more than he does himself? Who hates Cellbit more than he hates himself? Who blames Forever for things, more than himself?

They may turn their rage against the world, may bath it into blood, may spill it until rivers form but they drown themselves in it too.

And Richarlyson? Little boy who saw too much, who knew death and suffering too early, who lives at war with a part of himself who wants nothing but to hurt and destroy.

Finally, Dapper is on the 8th circle, Fraud. This circle has ten pits in it, each designated to a type of sinner with their own punishment, raking from being whipped by demons to being submerged into boiling tar or being dressed into shiny clothes who were as heavy as lead.

And what is BadboyHalo if not a fraud?

Who even knows who he truly is, what he truly thinks? Probably not even himself.

This is a man of many layers and many masks, a man who presents himself in any way he thinks is right regardless of what he truly feels or thinks, this is a man who will lie to anyone, including himself.

This is a man who embodies every single sin punished, who could easily be put into any of the pits. Is he not a seducer? Is he not a liar and a thief? Corrupted by his own darkness? A hypocrite, to others and to himself? Does he not sow discord, does he not give bad advice?

And isn't Dapper too much like their father? Little Dapper who lies and lies and lies, who hides behind her own masks, who is now being punished because they do not know who they truly are underneath all the masks.

And the 9th circle, the last one?

Betrayal.

Sometimes the only way to leave hell, to leave Purgatory, is to be worse than the devils.

#can't believe being catholic is relevant for a minecraft theory #weirdest sentence i ever typed in my whole life #this got so long fuck me i guess #but im not putting it under read more #qsmp #qsmp eggs #qsmp philza #qsmp brazilians #qsmp french #i'm not tagging everyone fuck that #qsmp fic #qsmp foolish #qsmp wilbur #anon im so sorry #11pm and im unhinged

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cxrnlia · 6 months

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Oscar and Charles rn:

#they should honestly have a cry session together #and be awarded for the unluckiest drivers on the grid #i would definitely join their crying session #i also might’ve jinxed it with my fic but uh..anyway #charles leclerc #oscar piastri #formula 1 #f1 #brazilian gp 2023

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ummick · 1 year

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Interviewer: “At the driver parade you drove around Sebastian, how did that happen?" Mick: "I didn’t want to drive around by myself [..] so we borrowed the car for a second.” 📷 https://twitter.com/formulalinds/status/1591847457297952768

#mick schumacher #sebastian vettel #f1 #formula 1 #brazilian gp 2022 #fic ref #fic ref 2022 #brazil #brazil 2022 #brazil 22 #brazil2022 #brazil22 #brazil 2022 sunday #smick

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formulalfc · 6 months

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an-the highly requested part 2 of Walls Around My Heart, I hope you like it!! <3

Part 1

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Walls Around My Heart

tw-swearing

You had sat in the toilet of the bar for around half an hour before you decided you had had enough of feeling sorry for yourself and ordered an uber to take you back to the hotel you and Charles were staying in.

You were in two minds about going back, you didn’t want to see Charles tonight, but you were in a city you didn’t know and didn’t feel safe enough to figure out finding your own place to stay.

Your fear overtook your sadness and anger, and you shuffled your way through the crowded club, making sure to avoid anyone you recognised.

You managed to find your way out through the exit, and you stood out front, arms wrapped around yourself to keep you warm. You were quickly regretting wearing the little red dress you had put on because you knew how much Charles loved seeing you in red.

Your uber pulled up and you slid in, politely greeting the driver before you looked out the window and enjoyed the quite sounds of the radio as you replayed the course of the evening in your head.

It wasn’t long before your uber had arrived outside your hotel and you thanked your driver before stepping out the car and pushing through the revolving door of the hotel.

You kept your head down as you walked, knowing that the whole team was here and not wanting to bump into anyone that would tell Charles you were here.

You rushed over to the elevator, pressing the button of your floor and watching as the door started to slide shut, but just before they closed a body hurtled full speed through the gap and stopped just in front of where you were stood.

It took you a moment to realise just who had stumbled into the elevator with you, a scoff coming out of your mouth at the sight of your dishevelled boyfriend.

He looked at you, taking in the redness of your eyes and the remnants of the mascara you had been wearing smeared down your cheeks before he slammed his hand against the emergency stop button causing the elevator to come screeching to a halt.

He ran a hand through his hair before he spoke, “I fucked up. I fucked up bad and I’m so sorry baby. I should have noticed that you were uncomfortable and more importantly I should have listened to you when you told me and done something about it. I know the team can be closed off to new people, we spend so much time together that we’ve become a family but that is no excuse for anyone to make you feel as though you don’t belong there. You’re my girlfriend, the love of my life, my best friend in the whole world and you are always going to be the most important person in any room we are in. I’m so ashamed that I made you feel like you weren’t and I’m going to make it up for you in any way I can if you’ll let me?”

You looked at him and saw the sincerity in his eyes, saw the way his chest heaved up and down from running to catch up to you in the elevator and knew in your heart he was already forgiven.

You said nothing to him just hit the emergency button again as you smirked, “you cant start your apology by ordering me room service, I’m starving.”

He laughed as he pulled you into his chest and placed a kiss on your head mumbling, “anything for you, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

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gaysindistress · 6 months

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I love u like I’ll get on my knees 😍😍😍😍 CAN U PLEASEEEE PLEASEEEE do TFAWS!Bucky x Latina reader?? maybe more specifically Brazilian?? we need some rep 🥺🥺 HAHA actually though like reader is good friends with Sam and Sam introduces them? Please, and thank u the dead love of my life

AHAHHAAHWH MY FIRST REQUEST!!!! thank you so much love!!

Okay okay so here’s a little Drabble for ya! I feel like this could be a full one shot?? Maybe after my follower celebration that starts on Friday! Also I wrote this on my phone so I apologize if there are any spelling/grammar errors.

Anjo -Portuguese for “angel”

mãe - Portuguese for “mom”

Warnings: cursing

Word count: 1.2k (this was only meant to be 500ish words…)

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

“Please tell me that you didn’t text him,” My coworker asks with an edge of dread and disgust in her voice. For the last two hours of our shift, Lilly has been on me about the guy who left me his number yesterday.

It had been a slow day with only regulars really coming in so a decent looking young guy walking in felt like Christmas. Lils was on it and immediately put on her best flirt, fluttering her big eyes and matching lashes at him when he ordered. I wanted to laugh at the scene but that died when he flashed a smile my way and handed me his number. It was quickly followed by some passing comment about how he hates it when girls throw themselves at him. I had half a mind to throw his coffee on him but I knew my boss would have my head. I settled for plastering a fake smile on my face and saying “Vai pro caralho.” Of course the ignorant asshole thought I was being nice and winked at me. It took all of my strength to not shutter in disgust.

“You should know me better than that,” I throw back at her, “from that 2 minute interaction alone, I can already tell that he would talk about himself the entire date before saying something borderline foul like how Latinas girls are his favorite and he can’t stand white girls .”

Lils snorts as she takes a sip of her coffee, nearly choking and sending the hot liquid flying over the freshly cleaned counter. I arch a dark brow at her which makes her laugh even harder.

“What? Am I wrong? You can’t tell me that he wouldn’t have pulled out that high school Spanish to impress me.”

“No, no,” she stutters, wiping the coffee up, “it just caught me off guard is all. Wait, didn’t you say something to him in Spanish before he left? What did you say?”

I narrow my eyes at her, “Vai pro caralho? Babes you should know better.”

She looks at me in horror, “oh my god it was Portuguese, wasn’t it?”

I nod as she profusely apologizes, “I am so sorry, Y/N. Oh my god I’m not better than that asshat. Ugh, what does that mean though?”

The front door opens before I have the chance to speak and the little bells above alerts us to the one regular that never fails to put a smile on my face. Sam had been coming in since before I started working at Brewed Awakenings but after that first interaction, he came pretty much daily. He even got Sarah his sister to start coming in and within a matter of a few weeks, I was invited over for Sunday dinner.

“It means Go fuck yourself,” I tell Lils as I round the counter with a bright smile and wide arms. Sam matches me and wraps me into a tight hug.

“Good morn, Anjo. How are you?” He asks as he squeezes me into this chest.

I pull back and give him my best angry mãe look we I demand to know where he’s been for the last few weeks.

He holds his hands up in defense as he says, “put those eyes away, Anjo. Im sorry okay? I was on official business and I didn’t have time to swing by to let you know but I’m back.”

I don’t let up my expression at first and lecture him some more, “You better be. You were gone for like…”

I pause for dramatic effect to pretend to count the time while walking back around the counter, “6 weeks. I was about to send out a search and rescue team to find you. Ridiculous.”

Sam chuckles while shaking his head at me. He steps to the side to reveal a man that’s been standing behind him and one that I hadn’t noticed before.

A damn attractive man.

Albeit a bit judgmental given the looks he’s throwing at the both of us.

“I wasn’t gone that long,” Sam tries but stops when I shot him another mãe look. He quickly changes the subject, clapping his hand on his companion’s shoulder and introducing him, “well this is Bucky. He’s the reason I was gone so if you’re going to be mad at anyone, be mad at him.”

Bucky.

He looks familiar but I can’t quite figure out why. The massive resting bitch face forced me I stop the search before offering him a bright smile as I repeat his name.

This seems to…irritate him? I honestly can’t tell with the stone wall of moodiness and brooding that lives on his drop dead gorgeous face.

“Well welcome in Bucky, I’m Lilly but everyone calls me Lils and this is y/n,” Lils jumps in with an equally wide smile. His dark eyes flicker between us but hover half a second longer on me. He utters a low “thank you” and looks up to the menu.

Sam rolls his eyes at his short answer but his ever present smile never fades as he orders his usual, a large hot mocha with soy milk. I’ve tried to get him to switch to coconut or even hemp milk but he refuses. He always gives me the whole speech about how “soy is the closest to real milk and if I’m going to drink alternative milk, it has to be close to the real thing.”

“And for you?” I turn my attention to Bucky while Lils starts on Sam’s order. He looks me with slightly wide eyes, a little startled it seems that I’m still talking to and looking at him.

He freezes for a moment, “uh…um a large house coffee.”

“Of course,” Lils jumps in once again and slides a cup across the counter to him. The loud volume of her voice causes him to flinch and Sam instinctively steps in front of him. He takes the cup without another word and fills it while Sam pays and throws a shamelessly flirty smile to Lils. She mocks faintly in a fit of giggles and winks at him.

Sam turns his attention to him and subtlety jerks his chin towards the door, wordlessly asking me if I’ll walk them out. Lils caught it too and rolls her eyes before shooing us out the door.

“She means no harm. She’s just…cheery,” I tell Bucky when the door closes behind us and we step onto the side walk, “I can tell her to tone it back for when you come in next.”

Sam chuckles under his breath and tries to hide a smile behind his cup but fails miserably. Bucky shots him another one of those bored looks and rolls his beautiful eyes at him.

“You don’t have to do that,” he finally says to me and actually makes eye contact with me, “Y/N.”

I offer him another wide smile and stick my hand for him to shake. He glances down at my watch and rings before taking my hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Bucky. Don’t let Sam fill your head with too many tales and I hope to see you soon.”

The man in question basically squawks in protests as I hug him goodbye and disappear back into the coffee shop.

About an hour after I get home, I get a text from Sam saying something along the lines of “Robo cop liked you and asked for your number.”

Moments later a D.C. number sends me a text and I quickly save it under “Bucky (aka Robo Cop according to Sam)”

That’s when it clicks who he is; Bucky Barnes, the former Winter Solider and the most attractive man I’ve ever met.

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kanene-yaaay · 4 months

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Oh, To Die By Your Hands

Kanene's notes: IT SEEMS SO SERIOUS WITH THAT TITLE KJUHYTFRGHUJK Nah, just your normal tickle fic with not so much normal characters. Fit and Pac have been living rent free in my mind since before Purgatory and after their date??? I am dead on the floor. Get a man who will declare his feelings for you in your native language for real for real.

Warnings: Lots of nibbles, tickly kisses and raspberries in this one. Switch!Fit and Switch!Pac. Around 6.500 words. Also! I tried to add the way that Pac calls Fit because of his accent written on the fic because I think it's lovely and cute. Hope it isn't too much confunsing or strange :D

[~*~]

“Thank you for coming, Pac. Ramón really likes when you sing him that lullaby.” His voice was rough but soft, just like his entire form and self when it came to his son, his beautiful baby boy.

Pac smiled, also following his example and lowering his voice, closing the secured door of the kid’s room carefully before they both headed to the other room where they held their first date, a prep on his step. “It’s no problem, Fitch! Actually, I don’t know why he likes that one so much, it literally talks about how a Cuca, which is like… a kind of monster? I don’t know how to explain. But how she will grab, or better, uh, snatch the kid away because the parents are out working.”

A loud peal of laughter was pried from the mercenary’s lips, staring at the other with unbelief in his eyes. “Wait, wait, that is the actual meaning of the song?”

“Yeah, yeah! I don’t know why they made it so scary. I wouldn’t be able to sleep if someone sang it to me before putting me to bed.”

“Damn, brazilian lullabies are just at a hardcore level.”

“Teaches you to sleep with one eye open, right?”

“That is right, that is right.”

They shared smiles. Arriving at the place, the air was still light, but it wasn’t difficult to see the question itching Pac’s throat, wanting to jump out of his body. It was in the way that he walked closely by Fit side and how he kept sneaking glances at him, quickly deviating them to look around the room before going back to stare, keeping the cycle for a while. Each time his steps got closer and closer until their hands intertwined in a hold.

It made sense he would be like that, of course. Fit would be just the same if his boyfriend woke him up in the middle of the night asking him to come to his place to help to calm down his kid after a nightmare because he wasn’t able to.

Still, he was glad that no questions were asked, not when Pac arrived - barely half a minute later after he sent his message, sleep and anxiety clinging like a shadow to his form - and not now, as the storm seemed to have passed.

Shame, however, kept flowing hot in his veins. He and Ramón had been alone since… always, really. They both had dealt with each other’s nightmares and night terrors more times than they could count. This one wasn’t supposed to be different. Shouldn’t be different. He should be there the moment his boy opened the door of his room with tears streaming down his face, sobs stubbornly escaping from his firmly pressed lips and hands open for a comforting hug that Fit should be able to give, a rare show of a child that his baby boy was, but refused to demonstrate most of time.

And yet…

Fit himself hadn’t been much better. Hadn’t been better for a long time, now. Because everytime he closed his eyes the threat from Madagio filled his mind and nightmares kept permeating his every night for the past two weeks, crowding his mind with horrifying scenarios that shouldn’t, but shook his core.

Usually, he would just wake up, push all of it - the feelings, the fears, the screams begging for their life - deep down his chest and hope that it wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass.

Nevertheless to say, as all the things in life, it definitely did.

Because that night, when Ramón looked at his face - and god knows what he saw there - he stopped right in his tracks and carefully signed his name. He had been crying, he had been crying and scared and tired and all Fit could think - because words simply didn’t come out, no matter how much he tried to spill, spit them to comfort his kid - is that he could kill him. So quickly. Easily, even, with a twist of his wrist, a swipe of his trident, a pull from his bomb stacks, he could kill him and suddenly he was frozen on the spot, unable to even get closer to his son.

If Madagio had any power like the Federation, it could control him and destroy his most precious riches in a matter of seconds. It wouldn’t need to come to the island. It wouldn’t even need to pull Fit from it to make his life a living hell.

“There is something that we need to talk, Pac. Please take a seat.”

So, he called Pac. He deserved to know exactly what he was getting into (how many times would they have this kind of conversation?) and Ramón deserved a father who would actually get his shit together and get over it.

Pac gulped and looked at him slightly startled, knowing very well what the serious tune could mean, probably with a thousand of scenarios already running at light speed in his mind. “O-of course, Fitch.”

He then softly squeezed his hand - because there was no universe where Pac wouldn’t be perfect and strong and there but sometimes Fit seemed to forget that so he had to remind him - and let it go, sitting on the blue couch Fit recently added on the room and expectantly waiting for the other to do the same.

Which he promptly did - of course, because there wasn’t any universe where he would go and Fit wouldn’t immediately follow him.

“Wine? What about wine? Do you want some wine?” The brazilian offered, pulling glasses from his well trusted backpack and a bottle from the refrigerator nearby.

“Already wanting to take me to bed, Pac? Wow.”

“No! Stop it.” Pac lightly shoved his arm, both chuckling for a bit before Fit sobered, taking a deep breath and a sip of the liquid. It was good stuff, probably from Aypierre’s vines. “Thought we were here to have a serious conversation, no?”

“We are.”

Fit stopped, pondered how he would put it in words. It didn’t matter, there was no easy way to put it.

“Pac, would you kill me if it was necessary?”

The scientist sputtered, almost choking on the wine before turning in alarm to stare at the other, his gaze zig zagging across his body as if it would transform at any moment into an enemy, a monster in disguise pretending to be his boyfriend right in front of him.

He didn’t doubt Pac’s abilities, even if Pac himself hardly believed in them. He was an extremely good fighter, going through monsters and battles with a calm demeanor and precise, strong attacks that ended the conflict as soon as possible. Fit was very skilled, himself. But he was sure that if Pac used one of his brilliant plans and his scythe, it would take a lot, but he would eventually come down.

But, for that, he needed to know if Pac would go through with the plan.

“Why, why that, Fitch? Did something happen? Are you feeling weird? Is it…” He got closer. Fit’s heart beated louder. If it was him… if it was him it wouldn’t be so bad. “Is it the Federation, again?”

“No. It’s… the other.”

Understanding downed in his expression. “Oh. Did he contact you again?”

Fit shook his head. “No. But it did say that it would hurt you if I tried to betray our contract and I am not planning to but, Pac, I need to know if you’ll do it. If I become a threat.”

Pac bit his lower lip, thoughtfully. Fit’s muscles relaxed, glad to know he was taking this as a serious worry, not just some unfounded fear.

“We will save you. Just like we did before, just like you did to me, Fitch. I, I will be there for you too, when you need and for as long as you need, if you’re gone we will bring you back.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I don’t, but, if I have to kill you, Fit… how will I tell this to Ramón? Or Sunny? WHo is going to be her bodyguard? And what about the morning crew? Are we supposed to just… stay?”

“You are all very strong and I am sure that-”

“No.” His voice was determined, sad. His hands gestured widely. “No, no, no. I am not leaving you behind, Fit. What about when I’m in danger, who will rescue me? Who will share the island’s fofoca with me? Or give me a refrigerator full of food on the first date? Or kill the eye workers when they attack or tease Tubbo when he goes on a date with Fred, or help us to take care of Sunny, or, or, or…” Fit held the other’s hands, squeezing it tight when he started to talk too fast, snapping Pac out of his thoughts, making him take a big breath. “No. You can’t go away, Fitche. Never. I won’t let them take you too.”

Oh.

Yeah, that… that made sense.

This was Pac, who the first thought when seeing his friend being drugged and controlled by the Federation was going under the same treatment so he could find a cure for it. The one who forgave Cellbit in a heartbeat when he told him he had changed. Who refused to kill him - even before the date, when Fit couldn’t even put in words his feelings for the other - during Purgatory. Who threw himself into mines and danger easily without thinking twice and would do all of it again an again if it meant keeping someone he cared about safe, even when the Federation kept taking his family one day after the other. He would do it in a heartbeat.

It made sense he didn’t want to lose another one. He was smart, strong, kind… Fit would trust him with his life into his hands in a blink of an eye.

But…

“If I hurt Ramón, Pac. If ever get close to hurt any of the eggs…”

“I will lock you, Fit. And I, we! We will find a cure again. None of them will die and you don’t need to die either.”

“Do you promise?”

Pac nodded, composure and eyes kept firm in their place, holding him down and reminding him he was no longer on this alone. “I promise, Fit. And if your boss cat comes here to hurt them… Then we will kick his butt, right?”

Fit snorted, if it was anyone else, he would doubt, throw their words away as a senseless attempt to comfort him, without true meaning. His boss was god, some kind of entity with power enough to pull him out of a world of literal destruction and throw him into a dimension where all of it never existed. However, this was Pac. Both he and Mike have proven over and over again that there was no place, no rule, no limit that they weren't able to overcome and laugh at their face when the managed to overcome it.

Maybe… If it was him.

He could believe it. Besides, Pac did promise that he wouldn’t let him hurt the children. They were always the priority, afterall

“Yes, we will. Thank you, Pac.” He took a deep breath. Since he already started, he could as well…

Talk. About stuff.

“Sometimes I… worry about, uh, what I can do.”

(Kill. Maim. Destroy. Break it down piece by piece until there is nothing left. Watch in the shadows and continue his way quietly through all the screams.)

Pac understood what he meant. “Oh. It’s fair. I think, it must be hard, when you think about it…” He then squeezed his hand before letting them go, starting to count on his own fingers. “But, I don’t think you should worry about it, Fitch. You can do a lot of awesome things, too! You’re a really good cooker, you can make very cool bombs and explosions, you’re good at hide and seek, at saving me when I am down. You are also very good at hiking and training, which makes sense, right? With how muscular and great you are, also-”

“Pac,” Fit voice’s took a firm tune, pulling Pac from his rambling and immediately catching his attention, wide black eyes turning at him attentively. “Pac, I was made for killing. All of this is just…”

(It doesn’t matter.)

“Nah.”

Fit blinked once, twice, quite astonished at how nonchalant the scientist sounded. Stared at those beautiful, soft eyes that watched him with a playful light that somehow nothing on the Island had been able to destroy. Strong. “Sorry?”

“I don’t think you were made for killing, Fit. No one is only able to do one thing and everyone can change. Besides… it gave you a lot of skill, right? Surviving there. That is why you’re one of the best fighters on the island, Fit! The codes, the eye workers… even Cucorucho is no match for you. You’re so strong, fierce, cool, fit and,” Pac’s determined tune tripped a little bit as his words got faster and a tad more distracted, his eyes deviating from his stare, looking at his face, arms, torso… Fit would be lying if he said he didn’t like how it hovered for a little while on his chest and muscles, “and you’re good looking too! Awesome, ruthless, muscular, handsome...”

“Ahalright!” Fit cut him before his face melted from how hot it felt, the tip of his ears feeling like they were on fire. His voice seemingly broke Pac out of his mind and made him immediately attempt to hide his face on his hoodie, trying to jump away to hide and being stopped by the gentle hand still holding his, keeping him close. That didn’t prevent more embarrassed snickers from also filling the air. “Sorry, sorry, I got distracted.”

“Take it easy, big boy, take it easy.”

Fit only laughed harder when the teasy nickname made the other shout in protest, a light hit landing on his shoulder. It successfully distracted him enough so his head peaked again from the deepness of his blue hoodie, so Fit counted it as a win. Especially when a playful gleam took over Pac’s glare.

“Actually, Fitch, I think you were made for something.”

“Oh, you think so?”

Pac got closer, smiling, nodding in such an innocent way that could only mean trouble.

“Yeah, for kisses.” He laid his head on his shoulder and Fit could feel goosebumps travel his entire body from the skin contact. His voice became lower, slower, certain. “Can I kiss you, Fit?”

Fit definitely didn’t bluescreen, half words and meaningless sounds leaving his mouth in a string of incoherency that lasted a couple of minutes before he finally managed to get himself together enough to shove an actual sentence, with a too high pitched tune, through his throat. “I-I mean, of course you can, Pac! If, ah, if you want to.”

Pac’s answer was a single kiss placed in his collarbone before the brazilian focused his administrations on his neck. Soft, warm lips leaving a trail of tingles and electricity whatever they touched. Fit could feel the care in each one and it felt… nice.

Cozy.

Warm.

Tickly.

Ok, actually, it was very, very tickly.

Fit closed his eyes and turned his face around, trying to hide the beginning of a smile that grew bigger with every light - so, so, so light - peck grazing his skin. Not wanting to actually ruin the sweet moment between them, especially after Pac got the courage to ask for what the mercenary had been wanting to do for a while.

(Cuddle and kiss his boyfriend. Oh god, when did he become such a softie?)

The problem with his hiding tactic is that it only left more spots in the open for Pac to attack and bash in attention, not leaving a single patch of skin alone without a caring goodbye kiss, unknowingly breaking piece by piece Fit’s barriers.

He twitched when his boyfriend got too close to the line of his jaw, the warmth racing up to the tip of his ears in a way he hoped that Pac didn’t realized. The one with blue hoodie and attentive eyes stopped in a hitched breath. Waited.

Fit got his racing heart and tickly tingles under control. He was not going to lose to a few accidental tickles. He was not.

He squeezed Pac’s and drew circles on the back of his hands, turning at him with a teasy smirk and crooked eyebrows.

“Oh, is it my turn now?”

Pac giggled and shook his head. “Wait, wait, I still got…”

Without finishing his sentence he dived and placed a light kiss right under his chin, successfully catching the other out of guard and making one of various locked snickers wheezily flee from his lips, quickly being followed by others when Fit tried to cover his smile, turning around once again.

“Oh, god, I am doing this wrong, aren’t I?” Pac pushed himself away and grumbled, starting to search in his pockets for his warpstone, increasing the other’s snickery fit. “Ok, ok, that is it.Thank you so much for calling, I had an incredible time so now I am going to throw myself off the Cristo Redentor and then go to bed, good night, Fit. Tell Ramón I loved him and tell Richas to take a shower, bye.”

“No, no, Pac. Calma, calma.” Fit held one of his wrists, pulling Pac back to his place on the sofa, chasing his black eyes when they kept running away from his while the scientist kept shaking his head from side to other in a dramatic despair. Fit ended up resting his other hand on his cheek, guiding his look back. “I would never laugh at my brazilian boyfriend.” He tried to not grin smugly when that melted the other’s pout in a shy smile “The kisses just tickled me, that is all.”

That immediately brought Pac’s attention. “Wait, Fit… you’re ticklish?”

“It seems like I am, but I am not sure. Not a lot of chances for bonding and laughing when fighting for your life in 2b2t.”

“Oh, I see.” Silence, Pac’s wrist wiggled out of his hold and suddenly there were warm hands flying to his neck, fingertips dancing on it, blunt nails and wiggly fingers tickling the sensitive spot softly. “So, you’re ticklish.”

Fit huffed a laugh at the strange feeling, instinctively scrunching up his neck all while he tried to not pry Pac’s hands away. Same hands that now spidered their way up to his ears, tracing them and giving each one a few scratches, Pac watching in awe as their tips became more and more colored with each passing second.

“Oh my god, Fit, your ears are so red! Are you blushing? That is really, reeeally cute, you know?”

Fit’s shoulders began to shake slightly with the effort to keep all the giggles and laughter trapped inside, the task growing more and more difficult as Pac kept his exploring. Fingers tapping their way down to the mercenary’s ribcage, making his torso twitch from one side to another as they started skittering up and down, tracing senseless drawings and forms on the spot. Another fleeing snigger escaped from his firmly pressed lips. There was no way such light, barely even touching touch could tickle that much.

“You can laugh it out, Fit. I bet it will feel much better! Besides,” the gleam in his eyes got sharper and Pac didn’t really lower his voice, but something in his tune changed, a turning point that made a shiver run down Fit’s spine. It didn’t feel like something truly dangerous but alerts began flashing in his mind when the touch became just a tad firmer.

Fit had to push down the squirms that threatened to push the other away. “You can’t just keep all that laughter only for yourself, now, that wouldn’t be fair. No, no, not fair at all. Keeping all those giggles and snickers hidden from me. Trapped inside. They deserve to be free, you know? So everyone can see how cute they are.”

“Pac…”

But then Pac started digging and his barrier broke. Loud laughter immediately followed the hands vibrating in between his ribs, scribbling, looking for any special spot that would make Fit go insane. Not that he was very far from this, now, head being thrown backwards with how strong his crackles were, because nothing in the world could ever prepare him for the feeling that was being tickled, to have each nerve screaming but not in pain, to have each touch bring a new kind of electricity that traveled his torso and filled his heart with a warmth that made him want to jump out of the sofa and at the same time bring Pac closer.

A curious prodding in a spot in his highest ribs that was almost on his back and Fit slammed his body on the cushion, a snort being pried from his lips and quickly being followed by another and another when the fingers kept drilling and kneading on the spot non stop.

Then he heard it, low as a whisper. “Beautiful….” It came in an awed voice, and in between half lidded eyes Fit saw the one with black hair shake his head, as if getting himself together before slowing down the tickling, thumbs rubbing the remnant tickles as he stared at him. “Sorry, Fitch, I, caham, I got, uh, distracted. Are you okay?” He nodded, chuckles taking over his words and disappearing with any hope of saying something without descending in more of a waterfall of giggles. Still, he tried, the proud smile in Pac’s face erasing his embarrassment in how silly he sounded giddy like this.

“I’m fine, just surprised that I am dating a tickle monster.”

The brazilian laughed, shaking his head and hiding his face on Fit’s shoulder. “Não, não, não (No, no, no). Mike is actually the tickle monster in our team. I just learned a lot from playing fights with him.” Pac trembled in an exaggerated shudder. “He is merciless.”

“Really?”

“Uh hum.” Pac hummed, thoughtful, before doing a little ‘pop’ sound, hands washing down to his sides, tapping senselessly there. “He had this kind of attack where he would be talking to you and suddenly he would start to tickle you and like, it would be really, really light so you didn’t actually, you know, like, died laughing? But at the same time it would be crazily ticklish! Following you around no matter how much you squirmed or snickered.”

“P-pac, come on…”

The other just hummed, still talking and hands still spidering in their resting position, taking turns in between drawing circles on his sides, feeling how his torso would shake with a new round of chuckles blossoming anew, and scratching the little dive of his hips to make them grow faster.

“Then he would try to keep a conversation going and complain like ‘are you even paying attention to what I’m saying, what’s going on?’ as if he didn’t know what was happening, can you believe?! And you couldn’t just… walk away or keep silly giggling non stop and not answer him, because you’re still in a conversation and that would be rude, right? So you’re just there, laughing and wiggling and it always drives me crazy!”

Fit nodded, knowing the feeling very well, in his opinion. His brain trying to pay attention to his words but getting totally distracted by his own attempts to not wiggle around so much because everytime his body trashed to one side, Pac would just dig his fingers on his sides and drum, which made him jump in the other direction only to receive the same treatment, creating a maddening cycle almost impossible to escape from.

Once again, laughing began flooding the room, high pitches and wheezy giggles chasing around one or two squeals when a tentative squeeze grazed the spot before quickly jumping away, the unexpected playful attacks blending with the soft scribbles and somehow making him not being able to predict nor prepare for one or the other.

“And then, out of nowhere he would get bored and that is where it lies the danger, Fitch.” Pac’s voice took a turn to a lower tune, torn between a warning and a threat. His tickling came to a halt, fingertips just laying on his waist with occasional twitches. What was more strange, though, was how, even so, the janitor couldn’t stop the titters taking over his mind and body. He wondered if that was how he would finally die, undone and destroyed by his very lovely boyfriend. Pac snickered in mischief and amusement, breaking his mask for a couple of seconds before cleaning his throat and coming back to his persona, interlocutor voice back again.

“Because, when he stops it means that he is getting bored. You know that he is getting bored and he knows that you know that he is getting bored and that it is just a matter of time before he decided that is enough and something happens” he highlighted the word by spidering quickly across his ribs. His voice sounded like it was closer. “So you just stay there, quiet, waiting for the moment he will strike.”

Fit held his breath, eyes closed. His smile was so big that it traveled from one ear to the other. No more laughter was falling from his mouth, but his shoulders still bounced with the phantom tickles that freely pricked his skin and seemed to follow his every squirm. Pac’s hands felt warm - dangerous - where they touched and he was pretty sure that his entire face would melt at some point of this game.

He waited.

Waited. Nothing.

A kiss was pressed on his forehead.

He opened an eye, muscles immediately untensing and relaxing with the scene, even if adrenaline still ran without control in his veins, of Pac happily smiling, just a few centimeters from his face.

“Oi, Fitch.”

“Roi, Pa-ACK!”

Loud, uncontrollable and unstoppable laughter filled the room, Fit still tried to finish his sentence before giving up and succumbing to the snorts and wheezing that took over his laughter. Squeezes, drumming and prodding attacked his sides, kneading on the ticklish spot before scratching their way up to his ribs, burying themselves there and then keeping their way up to his armpits - poking and scribbling and making him lock his arms on his torso - until it got to his ears, changing the loud peals of booming laughter to a hysterical string of snickers only to make he go back to crackling when he attacked his sides again and again, alternating between each and every tickle spot so he couldn’t picture where he was going to tickle next.

Fit could even swear that at some point he felt a squeeze in his knees that fished a chortle from his lips and an uncontrollable kick from his legs.

It lasted only a couple of minutes. All the electricity and tickly buzzing teased and made him laugh like nothing else mattered, loud and free even when, between his own amused giggling, Pac ceased his mean attack and watched with a giant grin as the other tried to regain his breath, a light blush dusting his face.

“You were saying, Fitch?”

Nonsense. That was exactly what Fit was about to say. Because his brain kind of became a mush after all that attack and the airy giggles that kept flowing from his throat didn’t exactly help him to gather his thoughts nor fade the hotness running still on his face.

“I, er, huh…” and there it was, the sentence got lost to jumpy snickers again. Fit brought a hand to hide them and try to gain at least save a bit of face, but a quick poke on his defenseless armpit made it go immediately down again. He glared without any real heat at his boyfriend, who lifted his arms in rendition.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m done for real, now.”

The silence was extended for a few pieces of time, stretching across them like a cat after a nap.

Fit was the one who broke it.

“That is Mike’s…” He coughed, cleaning his throat “special tickle attack, then? I can see why you call him merciless.”

“Nah, actually that is my own technique. Mike prefers to catch a person out of guard and tickle while taunting them until they promise to make something for him.”

The surprised, amused huff of laughter that came out from the mercenary’s mouth didn’t have anything to do with wiggly fingers this time and Pac joined him.

“You’re such a sneaky guy, Pac, you’re such a sneaky guy.”

“Thank you. Gotta learn from the best right? Maybe someday me and Ramón will team up and win the hide and seek against you.”

“Hmm, you probably would. But maybe I can convince Richarlyson to help me?”

“It would be good. Richas is the best in hide and seek. He would really like to. Hey! We should set up a playdate with them in our Hide and Seek arena. We can even call Tubbo and Sunny, maybe even Philza with Chayanne and Tallulah, if they are awake. The more the merrier, right?”

Fit was sure that if he was shapeshifter like Tubbo, without even wanting to, his eyes would be heart shaped. It never ceases to amaze him how Pac could accept and love everyone - him - like they were and would always be a family to him.

“But, so?” The brazilian wiggled his eyebrows, a smirk opening in his face. “How is it the experience of being tickled for the first time?”

Maddening. Tortuous. Able to make someone go crazy, he was sure. Surprisingly tiring and unexpectedly effective. Strange. Itchy. A lot. Hard to explain.

But also, it was extremely caring. Warm. Soft. Funny. Bonding. Weird. Extremely silly. He couldn’t stop his smile and thoughts about the gleam and shine in Pac’s eyes when he discovered a new spot or how - strangely enough - light and giddy he was feeling right now.

Besides, he never was self conscious about his laughter or anything but listening to Pac calling him… beautiful, in such an amazed voice… Well, his ego really couldn’t complain.

“It was fun.” He decided to go with that, a playful grin in his face, his hands holding Pac’s and intertwining their fingers.

“Oh, I’m happy in hear that! Actually, I-”

“But…” Fit cut him, purposely deepening his voice in a tune that never failed to catch the other of guard, sending a cold shiver through his muscles. “I can think of something even more fun.”

“Y-yeah?” Pac’s blush deepened when he looked at the dangerous, sharp, determined shine in Fit’s eyes, his entire mind getting overcomed with a choir of excited screams, burning face at realizing how their intertwined hands was both a soft gesture and a restrain.

Damn, he was really, really gay.

“Uh hm,” his tune now was almost like a purr of a predator watching his prey wobbly smile back and hold his hands tighter together, knowing very well his fate and still not even trying to escape from it. “It’s something that back on 2b2t we liked to call… revenge.”

With a swift move he pulled their hands and lead Pac to lose his equilibrium, falling backwards on his lap, one hand keeping his arms up and the other lifting his hoodie just the slightest bit, the actual perfect amount for him to immediately shove his face on his stomach and start blowing raspberry after raspberry, quick and ruthless.

“FITCHE!” The sound that came out of his mouth could barely be called a word, the high pitched shout being quickly taken over by a hysterical crackling that made his entire body shake with each laughter.

His boyfriend just chuckled, lifting his head just enough that his next words would be audible to the other, each one buzzing on the ticklish skin and making tiny, tickly electric shocks dance freely across it. “Oh my, Pac, what a delicious belly you got right here. One of the richest, rarest delicacies I’ve ever seen.”

“NONONO, FITCH!” He kicked and trashed, trying to roll away from his predicament but being firmly held in place by the other, which was kind of nice, since he wasn’t sure how to explain to Fit that he definitely wasn’t going to run away if he had the chance.

Still, that didn’t stop the fast, airy and high giggles of painting every syllable of his pleas that began flowing like a stream from his lungs, becoming more and more intelligible with each protest. “Please, please, Fitch anything but that! I will do anything you want! Do you wanna know all Mike’s most ticklish spots? Eu posso te dizer! (I can tell you!) he has this place right under his knees that if you poke he starts making ‘wee’ sounds e é muito engraçado (it’s very funny) Fitche por favor, espera, espera, wait!”

“Sorry, Pac, nothing I can do. I just have to try a little. Raspberries are so delicious and I just… I just gotta, ya know? I just gotta try a little, the tiniest little bit.” He lowered his head once again, carefully and softly nibbling on the ticklish skin and doing a bunch of ‘oh nom nom nom’ sounds as he did so, smugly relishing in how louder Pac’s laughter sounded at this, random portuguese and english being mixed in a series of incoherent talking that he couldn't even hope to understand, even with the translator.

The raspberries and nibbles began taking turns, dancing all across his stomach and sometimes even escaping to attack one lower rib or two in a way that usually drove Ramón crazy. It was kind of funny and endless endearing to realize that both of his boys were extremely weak for the same kind of tickle attack.

All the while Pac was simply dying. There was no other way to describe it. He was utterly and completely dying, losing every tread of.. everything that wasn’t thinking about how much it tickled and laughing both because Fit (Fit!!!!! His boyfriend Fit!!!!) was teasing and tickling him and also because as it seems he was the goofiest dork that ever existed in this world while doing that and somehow that made all the butterflies flying crazy on his belly and tickly electricity following his nerves one hundred times worse and ticklish and it was amazing.

Fit enjoyed a couple more minutes of the silly attack, fondly realizing how much more hysterical and loud the crackles got everytime he added more “hmmm” and “nom nom nom” sounds.

“There we go, big boy.” He lifted his head and got a glimpse of a gigantic, dazzling smile and a red face before Pac immediately hid it behind his hands, wheezes and snickers filling the room.

“Shuhuhut up!”

Fit grinned, but let go of the teasing and took pity on his brazilian boyfriend. He could quite understand why Pac seemed so happy in destroying him minutes ago. There was just a something that made his heart beat faster just in realizing that he was the reason why Pac was so happy and giggly.

Also, the way that the brazilian’s accent got stronger, especially while saying his name in between unstoppable, uncontrollable giggling… Fit thinks he could live with that, yeah.

“Oh my god, Fitche… and you call me merciless.”

The ex-mercenary chuckled. His eyes hovered over Pac’s face, making sure that he was still breathing and alive (he hadn’t taken too far, did he?) when suddenly his look got attracted to his neck, the memory of what started all of this popping like a flashing lamp in his mind.

“Pac…” It was the low voice again, lighter, but still there. Pac’s entire body froze still for a second and alarmed eyes turned to stare Fit, who seemed strangely fixated on his hoodie. “Is your neck ticklish?”

Oh.

Pac 100% blamed the gay screaming in his head for his next words.

“YES!” The shout was as excited as it was loud, making both of them wince at it, Fit looking at the one with black hair with a faintly surprised, crooked eyebrows. “I mean, er, assim, uh, no!!! It’s actually not! NOt even a little bit! What even is ticklish, you know? I don’t even speak english, senhor Fitch eme ce, na verdade, essa é a minha primeira vez aqui na ilha, quem é você e… Não!” (sir Fit eme cee, actually, this is my first time here in the island, who are you and… No!)

The babbling was promptly cut when, once again, Fit chuckled in mischief and shoved his head on Pac’s neck.

Butterfly kisses followed the line of his jaw, attacked that spot under his chin, tickled the place where the collarbone and the neck met, each patch of sensitive skin getting a kiss and a raspberry as a gift, making a series of snorts and high dazed giggles quickly follow the initial surprised shriek and jump around the entire room, Pac’s arms coming to rest on the other’s chest, partially pushing him away and partially holding him, legs kicking behind them with how much adrenaline and giddiness jumped across his muscles and filled his heart.

Pac hid his face on the crook of Fit’s neck, attempting to at least survive a few more seconds from dying of embarrassment, each snort and hysterical high pitched snicker sealing even more his fate and putting another nail in his coffin.

A few curious squeezes on his sides and a final, long raspberry and then Fit finally let him go, watching as the other got his breath again, forgetting for once to hide his blush and brilliant smile into his hoodie, looking completely lost in his own laughing fit. Adorable.

Sometimes Fit wondered how could he be so lucky.

A loud click and a flashing light brought both of them out of their thoughts. Pac almost falling from the sofa when he turned around and saw Ramón quickly hid a camera behind his back while passing three copies of the pictures to Richas, who stopped making gagging noises to hide them on his protected backpack before the adults could take it.

“Richarlyson, Me dá essas fotos!” (Give me those pictures!)

“Ramón, what are you doing awake? You should be sleeping. It’s late.”

Ramón had the sense to look at least a tad admonished, but the expression quickly disappeared when Richas began jumping on the same spot, wiggling from one side to another like he always did when he wanted to cause more mischief. The kids exchanged a look.

“Nenê (Baby), no. Don’t follow Richas’ example, he is a little demon.”

The sandal that went flying across the room and hit the brazilian in the face - which actually led to him falling from the cushions - only further proved this fact. Still, Richas let out plenty of offended noises while getting his sandal back, showing off his tongue when Ramón shoved him and shook his head in disapproval.

Fit tried his best to not laugh and sound serious. “Richas, do not hit your dad.”

“Don’t worry, Fitch.” Pac tapped his arm, getting up from the floor, tsking. “There is no other way, I guess. I’ll have to kill him. Yeah, it was fun to have a son for a while.”

The mercenary laughed, knowing very well how much of a weak heart Pac had for his little troublemaker. “Calma, calma, Pac. I think I have the solution. Since the kids are feeling so… energetic, we should probably tire them out before putting them back in bed, right?”

He also got up and gave Pac a Look, pretending to not see Ramón pulling Richas’ sleeve and exchanging warning words to him, knowing very well what that playful, dangerous shine in his dad’s eyes meant.

Pac grinned, mirroring his own devilish expression. “I think you’re right, Fit.”

Richas once again wiggled around in energy, his dragon tail tapping on the floor while Ramón threw a flower at Pac (smart boy, Fit thought, winning the melting heart from the dad that would have more mercy, very smart) and jumped on the same place, smiling and nodding in excitement.

He then pulled Richas away, starting the chase. Pac immediately following behind with joyfuls “I’m gonna catch you!”.

Fit chuckled.

Maybe Pac was right.

Maybe life - he - was more than just die and kill.

Well… he rolled his shoulders and followed his family in their game, laughing excitedly. He would have to enjoy it while it lasted, then.