I’m @eldritch-tickles! I’m part of the tickling community (shocker!), and I make tickle fics and headcanons. They’re not perfect, but I try, and it’s not like you’re paying for ‘em anyway! I’m never gonna post NSFW, but I’m not gonna kick you out if you do. Do your thing!
pfp from potatolord picrew (say that three times fast, lmao.)
Requests!!
I’d love to be a bigger part of the community, so if you have any ideas for fics or headcanons, send ‘em in and I’ll see what I can do! I usually like writing stuff for video games.
Things I won’t do:
Things from live action content
Real people
Explicit NSFW, but I’m okay with suggestive. I’m just not here to write smut
Stuff I would love to do (but send in whatever you want!):
Mass Effect 💜
Baldur’s Gate 3 💜
Stardew Valley 💜
Date Everything
Monster Prom
Deltarune
Elder Scrolls (tentatively)
Dragon Age: Inquisition
Dragon Age: The Veilguard
Avowed
Warhammer Rogue Trader
Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous (tentatively. i’ve JUST started this one)
Destiny 2
Hades (1 or 2)
Really any RPG! I’ve played so many
Send in requests if you have them! No request is dumb even if I say no to it 💖
This is a fic set in the game Clair Obscur, and it contains major spoilers for the included characters. You also might just not understand parts of it if you haven’t played.
This was originally a fic for the awesome @dot-the-switch for Squealing Santa- which was almost six months ago. I feel awful for never finishing it but I still want to get it in! If you’re them and you can read this I’m SO sorry 😔🙏
Lune sat next to the fire, engrossed in a drawing she scribbled into her journal. Surely, the metal framing of an Abbest had to make it top-heavy, but it was able to stand up after falling without use of arms. The weight distribution had to come from somewhere, but it-
“You.”
Lune looked up. “Excuse me?”
Verso had appeared without Lune’s noticing— when had she let herself get so sloppy?— and he looked angry. Or grumpy, at least. “Where’d the wine go?”
“The wine?”
“Yes, the wine. We had leftovers from Esquie’s… you know, the other day. It’s gone.”
“Why do you want it so bad?”
“I got…” Verso growled, but it made him look altogether sad, rather than intimidating. In a wet cat sort of way. “I got killed by a Petank today. I was hoping to drink that embarrassment off.”
Professionalism abandoned, Lune burst out laughing. “A Petank? The little ball things? How did you manage that?”
“I was— helping Sciel!”
“We both know Sciel doesn’t need your help.”
“…I tripped.”
“You tripped!”
Verso scowled, but it was playful now. “It’s not that ridiculous. It’s just never a problem for you because you’re always a foot off the ground.”
Lune wasn’t completely lacking in sympathy. She didn’t know herself what it was like to die. But, she also couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease the man, especially since he’d been especially boastful in combat recently. “Consider getting the tattoos and you can fly around too. I’m sure you’d look very dainty. Like a little bird.”
“Like an eagle, I’m sure.”
Lune held up her journal to show a hastily scribbled drawing of Verso’s scowling face on a tiny dove. It was petty, maybe. But this was more relaxing and… fun, she supposed, than anything else had in the past several weeks. “Little bird.”
Verso laughed in mock-offense, and in incredulity that she had even taken the time to draw the insult out. “Excuse me!?” He reached for the journal. “Give me that.”
“Wh- no, hey, that’s mine!”
He continued trying to grab it out of her hands, the play-fight becoming increasingly chaotic. “C’mon! I’ll draw you as a bug or something.”
“Verso—“
Lune grabbed Verso’s wrist as he reached for it and channeled her electrical magic into his arm. The intention was for it to be a very mildly painful shock, akin to flicking his ear in annoyance. He reacted differently.
Verso jolted and recoiled. “Ah- HAHA!”
There was a silence as Lune studied him quizzically. “Laughter?”
Verso pouted to the best of his ability with a smile on his face. “You tickled me.”
“Tickled!”
“You know. The thing that-“ Verso knew a good amount about tickling, he realized, but it was hazy. Like music from another room. Or crackling from his. He wiggled his fingers demonstratively. “This.”
Lune laughed in disbelief. “I know what it is, Verso. I’m more surprised it tickled when I shocked you. It’s supposed to hurt, you know.”
“Well, I’m very durable.”
“More so than us?”
“I can’t die, Lune.”
“I thought that was the only relevant difference.”
“Perhaps you pass away enough times, you build up a resistance to it.”
Lune’s feet left the ground, just an inch, her heels barely touching the grass. Verso wasn’t the only one who had a training day, and she had an idea for some much-needed stress relief. “This I have to study.”
“Study? Need I remind you, my plans for this evening involved a lot of wine and little other company.”
“Are you ticklish, Verso?”
Verso said the answer before he knew it. “Yes.” A weakness. “No.” A lie. “Yes?”
”Hm, and to things that aren’t supposed to be. Get up here, will you?”
“In the air?”
“Yes.”
Verso’s feet left the ground, very suddenly and far less gracefully than Lune’s. “Hey! You- what? Put me down!! How?”
“I’m just adding Chroma to you. Have you never seen another Expedition do this?”
“The others usually let me enjoy my wine!” Verso flailed a bit in the air. He wasn’t restrained, but he also wasn’t attached to anything, and therefore couldn’t exactly move himself anywhere at all.
“You’ll get your wine after. Now I’ll test the first reaction again.” Lune touched Verso’s arm again, and with a slight tense of the fingers, a shock shot through his arm and all the way through the side of his torso.
“AHA-AH, SHIT!” Verso yelped, immediately trying to pull away— an action that wasn’t possible to do, without feet on the ground. “Lune, you-“
“Same location, same voltage, similar reaction. You aren’t grounded, so where is it going?” The question was rhetorical. Lune wasn’t talking to him.
“Will you put me down now?”
Without an ounce of acknowledgement, Lune zapped his other arm. The shock was more forceful now, but still painless. It felt like an intense and extremely brief vibration, one that sent Verso into a fit of cackles immediately. “AHAHA- AGH! LUNE!”
“Not a typical ticklish spot, and still elicits laughter. I wonder, is it more effective when applied to the usual areas one would tickle?”
Verso started to protest and was met with a brief touch to his stomach, followed near-instantly with the shock of lightning into his overly-sensitive skin. He yelped loudly, an embarrassingly high-pitched noise, before devolving into panicked laughter as he realized Lune hadn’t pulled her hand away, and was keeping the current running. The initial surprise of the sensation now gave way to absolutely unbearable tickling, as if a monster with a hundred arms was attacking his belly. “GAHAHAHA- FUCK- AHAHA! I know you can- AGH! AHAHA I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!”
Verso thought he saw a smile play at the corners of Lune’s mouth. “Obviously I can hear you, Verso, but it’s not often I’m given the privilege of getting to ignore you. I’ll take my chance while I have it.”
Lune’s hands- both were on him, when did that happen?- slid up from his stomach, where they both simply rested there. The electric, horribly ticklish sensation moved within him to follow the motion. Verso’s laughed boomed, a few small tears flying from the corners of his eyes at just the force of the sound. He’d give anything to have Lune’s fingers just actually tickle him like a normal person, god’s sake, anything but this. “HAHAHA- AHAHA NO! NO NO FUCK I HATE YOU! PUT ME BACK DOWN! I- AHAHA I NEED FEET ON THE GROUND!”
“Oh, feet. Yes, that’s a good idea.”
“NO!”
“You’re fine.” Lune pushed a hand to Verso’s chest and pushed gently, rotating the gravity-less Verso until he was upside down, legs in the air. She frowned disapprovingly when her eyes landed on his boots, already working to yank them off. “These are so inconvenient. I haven’t worn shoes in years.”
Verso flailed around, trying to reach for the grass beneath him. “Which is frightfully ODD, Lune!”
“It’s frightfully odd you all need ‘the most powerful being in the world’ to avoid getting your shoes muddy.” She tossed his second boot to the ground beneath. “Anyhow.” Her hands wrapped around his ankles, and BZZAP! The electricity returned with a vengeance.
Verso shrieked- god, he hoped Monoco was miles away from ever seeing this. His feet and calves, now the favorite target for Lune’s ticklish current, were so unbearably sensitive that it interfered with most aspects of his thought. He knew they were before all of this, but a memory like that was many steps removed from actually experiencing it. It tickled. It REALLY tickled. Surely Lune would have a better word for it than that, but Verso definitely didn’t. It just tickled.
“This is good evidence.”
“AHAHA- AHAW, AHAHA! YOU’RE NOT EVEN- YOU’RE NOHOHOT EVEN TAHAHAKING NOTES!”
“I’m taking mental notes.”
“YOUHUHUHU’VE NEVER DONE THAT!”
Lune, unable to admit she was just tickling him for fun, doubled down on shocking. Verso wisely (and involuntarily) stopped talking, opting to howl with laughter instead.
Eventually, finally, Verso’s fingers found purchase in the grass, and he hauled himself to the ground, the shocking sensation fading. The poor man climbed half-up onto a log near the campfire, before collapsing in a fit of giggles. He tried to get up a few times, but each time collapsed into uncontrollable mirth. It was an uncharacteristically delighted sound.
Then, suddenly, he felt something cold touch his face. A glass. A glass of wine.
Verso looked up at Lune with bleary eyes. “H… ah… you got me wine?”
“I did tell you I would.”
“Where…” Verso tried not to laugh again. The tickling sensation had faded, but for some reason, he felt wobbly, giggly, like a small child. How odd. Was it anything like this for him? For that Verso?
“Where’d you find this?”
Lune smiled. “Mm. I can’t tell you.”
“Someone’s hiding the leftovers from me?”
“Hey, I didn’t say that.”
“Who?”
“I can’t say that.”
Verso sat up on the log, taking a sip from the glass. He almost laughed again at the thought that he and the wine were probably aged about the same. “Who is it? I’m gonna find them.”
“Enjoy the wine, Verso. Thanks for the study.”
Verso grumbled and took another sip.
“This is really fucking good.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE
First of all, I want to apologize again for not even remotely meeting the deadline. My life got pretty crazy and I mostly abandoned this blog, but that was a bad time to do it. I hope this fic is still enjoyed by its intended recipient, maybe as some sort of start-of-summer present. Second of all, I’m delighted to have had the opportunity to write for Expedition 33! Verso was by far my best damage dealer in my playthrough (free aim build baby) and I had to humble him here. Lune is also my second favorite character, just under Sciel! I jumped at the chance.
Squirmles love to lick up sweat excreted from apocrine glands during a "feeding" session. This stress sweat is high in fatty acids and nutrients.
Sweat from tickling is also a natural human defense, intended to make skin more slippery to dislodge attackers like insects. Squirmles must keep their fuzzy grip to slither around, so they make sure to keep their prey clean.
Idk if this is odd to say but your other art in this style was the first stuff I saw when I first came to the tk community on tumblr and I’m a huge huge fan. I’m so happy to see more yippee
tickling is a conspiracy theory constructed by woke leftists and communists to distract the masses from the issues circulating us folk such as immigration and anti bullying campaigns
tickling is a conspiracy theory constructed by woke leftists and communists to distract the masses from the issues circulating us folk such as immigration and anti bullying campaigns
Hello hello! Random art drop before I dip. I'm still on temporary hiatus but I got some art motivation! I've been doing a lot more doodling and got inspired to make something for you guys again :D
Ever since my first cameo, I've seen a few more with Lucanis tickles and it just confirms it for me. He's canon ticklish now. Good for Cyras, he's a big tickle monster 😝
Hiiiiiii!!! I recently got into mass effect and I ADORED your Wrex and Shepard fan-fiction!! I'm SUCH a big sucker for 'big tough guy whos got a single secret weak spot' and how you wrote them is so sweet. You are feeding me well with the mass Effect content so thank youuuu!!!
thank you so much omg!!! i have a revenge fic about 80% done in my back pocket but i’ve been so busy 😭🙏 i’m so happy you’re enjoying it!! ♥️
Author’s note: Surprise! @eldritch-tickles ! It’s time for Squealing Santa!!! 🎁 As soon as I saw Stardew Valley and Alex, I knew that was the route I had to go since one of my friends likes Alex too! The fic sort of wrote itself once I paired your prompt of “playful punishment tickles” with Alex’s signature sport: gridball! I hope you enjoy and Merry Christmas!🎄
Thank you to @squealing-santa / @cantsaythetword for hosting this year! Now on to the fic!
Series: Stardew Valley
Characters: Alex and Reader
Word count: 2,011
Prompt: “Anything involving Alex or Shane! / Playful punishment tickles are the best. I love really any scenario though!”
Summary: You agreed to help Alex with his gridball practice, but Alex, purposely trying to push your buttons, teases you about your gridball skills (or lack thereof). You on the other hand have the competitive spirit burning inside you, so you think it’s time for Alex’s remarks to be playfully punished!
---
You expected to have gridball practice on your to-do list today since you promised Alex that you would help him hone his skills with the sport. What you didn’t expect, however, is that you are much worse at gridball than you could ever imagine—so much so that Alex’s practice basically turned into your lesson.
So now here you are, standing in one of the grassy fields in town that has plenty of space to run around in, but all you want to do is to simply catch the ball.
Alex holds the gridball while you stand across from him with your hands out in front and your body arched just slightly forward in case you really do need to go running after the ball. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve dropped the ball at this point, but this time is the one! You even said it out loud to Alex before getting into position so he could hear the confidence in your voice.
You’re glad he’s being patient with you, but you just know that he’s holding back a laugh each time you miss. Well, jokes on him! You’ll catch it this time for sure!
“You ready?” Alex calls out from a short distance away.
“I’m ready!” you say determined. “Throw it, Alex!”
Hearing your response, Alex pulls his arm back, then tosses the ball. It flies through the air. The sun almost seems to glisten off the surface of the ball as it rotates towards you, like it was in slow motion. You push off your back foot and move towards the ball, keeping your sights on it as it arcs downwards, falling closer to you, aaaand-
Plop.
You miss the ball completely. You tried to swipe at it and it fell right through your arms before flopping like a fish into the grass.
An annoyed groan escapes your throat at your failed attempt. Trying to recover from the embarrassing spill, you pick up the gridball.
“Okay Alex, one-” you look up and see Alex ahead of you, practically snickering through his hand. He has his other hand on his belly and a wobbly smile behind his fingers as he tries to hold in his laughter, but when he takes another glance at you, it makes his giggles start to flow.
“Pfft-hahahaha!” Alex hugs his belly and folds forward.
You scoff and attempt to return your biggest glare at him, but the sound of his laughter makes you smile instead.
“Stop laughing at me!” you say with a lighthearted chuckle. You chuck the ball at him to catch him off guard, yet Alex catches it perfectly, EVEN while his laughter was distracting him. Now that’s just rubbing it in.
Alex tucks the ball under his arm and wipes his eye from his spurt of laughter. “Phew, sorry. It was a nice try through. Unfortunately, not everyone can be as good at gridball as me,” he shrugs.
You playfully roll your eyes at that comment. “Just throw me the ball again. I think I got the timing down. I can do it this time! Watch!” you already prepare yourself for a catch.
“Hmm,” Alex fiddles with the ball by tossing it up in one hand and catching it a few times like he was showing off. “Nah, I don’t think I will.”
Stunned by his response, you reply by putting your hands on your hips, “Alex.”
“Sorry, I can’t do it. If I’m going to be a professional gridball player, I have to play with only the best of the best,” he flashes you a joking smile.
You scoff again hearing his words, then you stomp over to him. “Alex! Quit bragging already and please toss me the ball!” you politely demand.
He sucks air through his teeth. “I don’t think I should. You might hurt yourself,” he grins.
Oh, that’s it.
“Alex!” you impulsively lunge for the ball, but Alex swiftly holds it over his head and puts a hand on your chest to keep you at arms-length, with ease. You, on the other hand, try swiping at the ball furiously like a cartoon cat.
Alex lets out a chuckle. “Nope. No can do.”
You continue to claw at the air to try and nab the ball from his hands. As if mocking your efforts, Alex pretends to let out a yawn. Yawning! The audacity!
An animalistic growl gurgles out of you. Your adrenaline from the challenge fuels your urge for impulse.
“How dare you!” You see a split-second opening under his arms. “Take this!” you strike without a single hesitation, wiggling your fingers into his armpits.
In an instant, Alex chokes out a laugh and slams his elbows down as a pulse of ticklishness hits his form. His giggles quickly follow and he nearly drops the ball, but remembering that he’s playing a game of keep-away, he clutches the ball close to his chest, refusing to let go.
“Hehehey! Thihihihis is foul plahahay!” Alex attempts to twist to the side as your scribbly fingers are latched under his arms.
“So is playing keep-away with the ball! You deserve this punishment!” a smirk accentuates your smile. “Now, hand it over, Alex!”
Alex shakes his head, his hair swinging along with his laughter. “Nohoho way! Yohohou’ll have to pry it from mehehehe!” he declares through his cheery smile and holds the ball away from you on purpose, fighting the urge to curl himself up from the tickles still attacking his torso.
“Oh yeah? Well, that can be arranged.” With your hands unpinned from his elbows, you move your fingers down and give both of his sides a squeeze.
“Eek!” a raspy shriek releases from Alex that makes him jolt backwards in your clutches. “Waitwaitwait wahahahait!” he holds a palm out in defense right before leaning back too far and toppling over into the grass. You jump down after him and he’s sent right back into beaming bouts of laughter when you pick up your tickle attack exactly where you left off by aiming for his sides.
Alex attempts to curl up his middle and hug his torso, but the ball between his wrapped arms and his stomach prevents him from shielding himself to the fullest, which works excellently in your favor.
“And the opposing side goes down!” you say like an enthusiastic sports announcer. “Keep watching, loyal viewers! The underdog team is making a comeback!” You move a hand to scratch at his ribs, which earns a surprised yelp and a little wiggle from him like a worm. You take the opportunity to try and pry the gridball from his hands, but Alex’s hold remains firm.
He gets into the competitive spirit of the game, tightening his hold around your objective. “Ohohoho yeah? Well I still hahahave the bahahall!”
“Ah, still being cocky, huh? Then take this!” you slip your hand right below the ball and tickle his belly, clawing at spot. As if he was running a timed mile, Alex’s legs suddenly kick out behind you, paired with a burst of boisterous laughter. The ball nearly pops out of Alex’s arms when he lurches forward like a mini sit-up, but he regains his grip on it. He flops down on the grass, throwing his head back with his joyful giggles.
“And the home team just scored a major goal!” you tease. “The crowd goes wild!”
A hint of a blush rises in his cheeks. “Wahahait-! Tummy-! Ticklish!” he barely manages to respond through his booming laughter; his face only grows more red from the embarrassment of his words coming out like a preschooler.
You huff out a chuckle at his reaction. “All you have to do is let go of the ball, Alex, and then you can protect your tummy, if it’s that ticklish.”
Alex playfully growls through his teeth and his giggles. His competitive spirit remains at large.
“Nohohoho way!” he shakes his head. Thahahat’s just what you WANT me to dohohoho! I cahahan hahahandle this!”
“Suit yourself,” you shrug your shoulders. A smirk flashes onto your face. Hungry for victory, you lunge your other hand towards his stomach and use both sets of your fingers to claw at his tummy, scribbling and kneading the area with the intent to turn him into giggly puddy.
And it works like a charm.
Alex must have been so focused on the fact that his tummy was being tickled that he didn’t realize you were only using one hand to do it. So, when your second hand joins in at his bouncing belly, his laughter really does spike as loud as a stadium of enthusiastic, cheering sports fans.
“AHA!” Alex shrieks before dissolving into cackles. Alex attempts to contain his ballistic reaction so that he can outlast your challenge, but your tickles prove to be a worthy opponent; Alex can’t stop the uncontrollable flow of giggles pouring out from him. He squeals in the middle of his laughter, then pushes the gridball into your chest.
“OHOHOHOKAHAHAY! Ohohoho-on second thohohohought– Yohohohou can hahahave the bahahahall! I’m tahahapping ohohohout!!!”
With a pleased grin, you snatch the ball from his hands. “Thank you, Alex.”
Once you pull the ball away, Alex plops back onto the grass and properly wraps his arms around his torso as he lies there with breathy, leftover giggles.
You admire the ball like it’s a trophy. “See? Now was that so hard?”
Alex puffs out a few breaths. “It was only hard because you made it difficult.”
“Me? Difficult? And what about you, Mr. Stubborn? All you had to do was toss me the ball.”
His cocky grin makes another appearance, “What, so you could miss it again?”
“Oh, are you asking for the match to go into overtime?” you smile and give his belly another quick scribble. Alex jumps and gently grabs your wrist.
“Nononoho! I forfeit!” he giggles.
You pull your hand away. “Good! Then once you’re done lying around here, toss me the ball again so we can pick up where we left off.” You place the gridball beside him, then you stand to return to your original spot.
Alex chuckles. Still with his back on the ground, he grabs the ball. “Give me a few minutes, to recover at least,” he tosses the ball back to you in response.
You turn around just in time. Without thinking, you reflexively cup your arms together and, to your surprise, you catch the ball.
It takes you a moment to actually process your accomplishment, but once you do, your eyes light up.
“Hey! Hey! Did you see that?! I caught it! I caught it!” you exclaim, giddy with excitement. Alex sits up and shares in your joy.
“Nice one!”
You hook the ball in one arm and pump your fist with the other. “Look out world, there’s a new gridball player in town!”
Alex lifts himself to his feet. “Keep on practicing and just maybe you’ll be as good as me,” he jokes.
You shake your head. “Nah, I’ll leave the title of professional gridball player up to you. But I don’t mind learning while helping you practice! As long as you don’t keep holding the ball hostage.”
“Heh, I won’t.” Alex places a hand on his chest, “This time it’ll be fair and square.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” you toss the ball into his arms. With a smile, you run off to return to your spot. Alex, energized by your enthusiasm, wastes no time throwing the ball to you.
The gridball soars through the air. You spring your body forward to catch it and-
Plop.
You drop it again.
Alright, so you still need practice, but that’s okay. With a giggle, you pick the ball right back up and hurl the gridball to Alex. Eventually, you’re pleased to say that you do get in some successful catches.
It would have been easy to simply give up and quit while you were ahead, but with friends like Alex—who push you to keep trying while also maybe pushing your buttons—it makes you even more determined to improve.
i just realized that…my lee mode comes and goes but what doesn't come and go is the fluff craving. Cuddles and hugs and just in general sitting next to each other doing everything we like
The following contains no spoilers for Dragon Age: The Veilguard, besides including mention of all companions. It contains a consensual bondage situation and talk of sex, but not directly NSFW. (It’s actually very fluffy.) Enjoy!
“Dammit, Assan, stay!”
Davrin had been chasing the young griffon around the Lighthouse for the better part of twenty minutes by now. Assan seemed to think it was funny to have knocked over his shelf and stolen one of his most important carvings. Normally the Davrin would’ve lured the griffon back with a truffle or two, but Assan had just eaten and was clearly feeling especially playful this morning. Er, evening. They looked the same.
Davrin felt a spike of panic as Assan sprinted around the corner towards the Meditation Chamber. Well, no one called it that. It was his boyfriend’s room. It’s not like the two of them hadn’t knocked over an urn or two before during their… ‘sparring,’ but there was a difference between that and letting loose a very rowdy griffon on a room full of papers and pottery.
Davrin practically tackled the creature the moment he got within arm’s reach. The two slid unceremoniously across the stone floor and crashed into a shelf containing a number of journals and notebooks of his boyfriend’s. Assan flopped in Davrin’s arms for a second, before giving him a very sheepish look.
“Drop it.”
The griffon turned away.
“Assan…”
Finally relenting, Assan let the wooden figure drop from his beak and into the Grey Warden’s hand. Both griffon and elf looked down at the carving, which had luckily come out unscathed. Davrin breathed a sigh of relief. He had put more effort than normal into this one, because it was intended to be a gift. This particular work was a carving of…
———————————
…Oslo ‘Crypt-Mouse’ Ingellvar, or nowadays seemingly just ‘Rook,’ was a necromancer of the Mourn Watch. Not one of those four names had been given to him by birth- rather, ‘Oslo’ by himself, ‘Crypt-Mouse’ by his friends back in Nevarra, ‘Ingellvar’ by his adoptors, and ‘Rook’ by the marksman Varric Tethras. The final of those names had recently become the most important, because an information-gathering job he had taken had almost immediately become a divine crisis he didn’t particularly want to be at the center of. But he was ‘Rook’ on that job, and the job wasn’t over, so ‘Rook’ he remained.
The oncoming end of the world had its perks, though, silly as it seemed. Oslo hadn’t really had real friends since he left Nevarra, but now, he had a real group of people that were honestly like family to him. At least, more family than he had ever known. And he had Davrin. Wonderful, occasionally evil Davrin. One thing he didn’t expect to come out of this adventure was love, but he was happy to have found it.
As he exited the eluvian- an interplanar portal to the Lighthouse, he nearly stumbled over Bellara and Taash, who were working on a runic mechanism attached to the gate. (Well, Bellara was working. Taash was sitting on their haunches and eating some sort of juicy fruit.)
“Bah,” Oslo groaned as he shook bits of snow off his shoulders. “Remind me never to go back to the Anderfels.”
Bellara laughed without looking up. “Maybe wear something warmer. You know we have coats, right?”
Oslo flushed, clearing his throat quietly. “This is what I wear out.”
Taash spoke between mouthfuls of fruit. “Sure. Do the shoulder spikes make a good impression on the people you meet?”
“This is fashionable in Nevarra!”
“What, for a porcupine?”
Bellara chuckled, a spark of magic spritzing out from her workplace. “Stop fighting, guys. I’m trying to work.”
Oslo coughed at Taash’s chuckle. “I need to change into my normal coat anyway. Have you guys seen-“
Bellara and Taash answered simultaneously. “Davrin?” Bellara continued, still not looking up. “Last I saw he was chasing after Assan. Something about a carving.”
Oslo winced jokingly. “Argh, I should go find them. Thanks.”
Taash spit out a seed, then turned to Oslo as he walked out. “Have fun with your boyfriend, porcupine boy!”
“YOUR ARMOR IS A CROP TOP, ASSHOLE!”
———————————
Davrin was not a snoop. Well, it was his job to be, as a tracker, but not for his interpersonal relationships. He was very respectful in that sense.
That said, notebooks of Oslo’s had literally fallen open in front of him. He lacked the willpower not to look at at least the page they opened to.
Assan chirped from the corner. “I’ll get you food in a second,” Davrin replied. “Also, you just ate.”
He checked to make sure the shelf was stable, then scooted forward a few inches to where one notebook had fallen. It looked like anatomical sketches- not uncommon for the necromancer, who probably had books full of notes on just his nerd-outs with Emmrich.
Wait, no. There were multiple different figures on this page. One was grasping the other by the waist maybe, or the sides- the drawing was scratchy. Kind of an intimate-looking position, Davrin thought. He hoped that if this was something Oslo wanted to try with him, Oslo felt safe enough to just say so.
Davrin did a second double-take. It was made clearer by the other drawings on this page- one figure was tickling the other. The more he looked, and admittedly, flipped through the pages, the more apparent it became. There was much attention in the drawing of the fingers, of the motions they made, and just as much attention in the expressions- roughly drawn, but always containing laughter, sometimes loving, sometimes desperate, always happy. Why would his partner have drawn this, and pages of it? The more he read, the more clear it was that the person being tickled in each drawing was Oslo himself- he’d have added freckles on the shoulders or bits of shoulder length hair. Oslo had drawn himself being tickled. Frequently. Oslo had…
———————————
…just finished changing into his more comfortable outfit, which Harding had done the favor of washing for him. It was… well, it was a lab coat, which earned him frequent teasing from Davrin about his inability to shut his ‘wizard brain’ down, but it really was comfortable. The material was soft and flowy and easy to lay around in, even if it was stained with ash and bonedust.
He was, however, completely unable to find Davrin. He was much warmer than he had been in the mountains just a bit ago, but he knew he’d certainly feel even better if he had a hug. And a kiss or several hundred. Having exhausted most of the rooms in the Lighthouse (and having recieved several very different accounts of Assan’s romp earlier), he decided to go to his own. It couldn’t hurt to check. He strolled down the hall to the Meditation Chamber, and upon opening the door, he found-
Davrin bolted up to his feet, still holding the journal, jostling Assan who immediately ran up to Oslo and started rubbing up against his leg.
“G’morning. Er, evening,” Davrin said, fumbling.
“Is that my journal?”
Davrin looked sheepish. “…yes?”
“Sh-shit! You-“
“I didn’t- not on purpose! Assan crashed into it and it fell and I picked it up but it was open.”
Oslo was blushing furiously now. “Which journal was it?”
“The tickling one.”
Okay, NOW Oslo was blushing furiously. “Wh- But you- That one is-“
Davrin set the book back on the shelf and took a step towards his partner. “I’m not judging, Oz.”
That stupid flustering nickname. “You weren’t supposed to see that!”
“Why?”
Oslo paused. “What do you mean?”
Davrin took another step forward, his hands settling on the mage’s waist. Oslo didn’t pull away. “I’m sorry for seeing this without your permission. Genuinely. But also, why hide it? You seem pretty interested in it.”
Oslo looked down at the ground, blushing. “It’s embarrassing.”
Davrin laughed, that deep, knowing chuckle that always got Oslo going. “All respect, Oz, we’ve done pretty much everything together. This isn’t more vulnerable than sex.”
“I-It’s more embarrassing than sex.”
“Why?”
“Cause everyone- not everyone. Most people like sex! It’s a normal thing to like! Not that this is a sex thing, cause it’s not really, but very few people like tickling so this is- is- it’s more awkward.”
Davrin smiled, waiting for Oslo to look back up before continuing. “I want to know about you, Oz. If it’s awkward for a bit, that’s okay. But I’m not in the slightest turned away by this. I just want you to know that this is the kind of thing I want you to share with me.”
“…yeah.”
“Also, it’s the kind of thing I can help you with. You’ve clearly put a lot of thought into being tickled without ever actually getting it to happen.”
“Shut up!”
“I’m not teasing. I’m dead serious. You want to be tickled, right? By me?”
It was such a direct question. Davrin had been a blunt communicator since they first got together (perhaps to make a change from the months of incredibly unsubtle flirting that preceded it), but it never got to Oslo quite like this. He didn’t know how to respond to it, other than with bluntness of his own.
“…yes.”
“And you want to be tickled in the ways that you drew?”
Oslo’s head was buried in Davrin’s chest now. “Yes.”
“And you’re free right now?”
“What?”
“No urgent missions or anything?”
Oslo flushed red, then pulled away. “E-Er, I actually have an experiment with some, um, bones, and stuff-“
Davrin kept looking at him with that gentle smile. “Or you could lay down.”
He looked to the bed.
He looked back at Oslo.
Oslo was on the bed in seconds.
Davrin smiled, then retrieved the journal from the nearby shelf with an infuriating calmness that godDAMMIT made all of this worse. He flipped it open. “Some of these drawings involve restraints, in some you’re just being pinned down. Do you have a preference?”
Oslo was so flustered he was basically just squeaking out words by now. “Pinning to- to start. At least. So I can stop it if I need.”
Davrin smiled warmly. “Of course. You can stop it anytime even with restraints, though. You tell me to stop, I stop.”
“…okay.”
The warden climbed up onto the bed, situating himself on his partner’s legs. “Give me your wrists.”
“W-Willingly?”
Davrin grinned. “Not what you imagined? Sure then.” He swiftly grabbed Oslo’s wrists, pinning them down above the man’s head in the blink of an eye. “That what you wanted?”
“Fuck you!”
“Wasn’t a ‘stop.’ Guess I’m good to go.” He shifted so he was holding both of Oslo’s hands in just one of his own, and hovered his free hand just over his partner’s ribs. Oslo flinched. “Gods, I haven’t even touched you yet.”
“You made it seem like you were!”
“Mhm. Barely moved my hand.”
“You’re an asshole, Davrin.”
“And you’re not in a position to say that.”
“I’ll say whatever I want to hear.”
“You’ve become so confident suddenly. No, you’ll say whatever I want to hear.” He leaned down until his breath tickled the mage’s ear. “Which is screaming.”
That would’ve been a lot more flustering if Oslo got the chance to process it. Instead, he felt Davrin’s strong fingers wiggling into his ribs. Not enough to hurt- never enough to hurt, not from Davrin.
But holy shit, it tickled.
Oslo arched off the bed, immediately launching into hysterical laughter. Davrin laughed in surprise from how immediate it was, from how little effort it took to get his boyfriend this bad. He thought for sure that he had lucked out and found the worst spot on the first try, but when he pulled the man’s coat up to get at his soft, freckled stomach, he proved himself immediately wrong.
“AHAHAHAAAAAA- NOHOHO, DAVRIN! AHAHAHA HAHAHA- HAHAHAHAHAVE- HAVE MERCY!”
Davrin paused. “Your word is ‘stop.’”
Oslo fell silent.
Davrin dug right back in.
Eager to please as ever, Davrin occasionally checked the journal his boyfriend had drawn in. It had drawings of lots of different tickle spots- rough tickles to the sides, which he gleefully tested, light tickles to the base of the neck, which earned a constant stream of giggles. “Ehehehe… Davrin, nohohoho…”
Davrin listened and listened for a ‘stop,’ but Oslo didn’t crack. At some point, the warden began to take it as a challenge. His boyfriend was, and he meant this lovingly, not that tough. If Davrin was a really good tickler, Oslo wouldn’t still he holding out. That meant he had to get better.
Oslo still didn’t call it off, even after Assan had left the room full of Oslo’s flustered laughter, even after Davrin had gotten his boyfriend’s shirt off and even tied up his hands after he recieved permission. At the moment, Davrin sat on the man’s legs, dragging his fingers up his bare feet before skittering them down and repeating the motion. Oslo was alternating between periods of thrashing and cackling and periods of flustered pleading that got him absolutely nowhere. He could end it if he wanted. They both knew that.
Davrin had to prop a pillow up under his boyfriend’s neck before going for the armpits, because Oslo was throwing his head back hard enough to hit something by accident. Once he ensured the mage’s safety, though, he was perfectly ready to go back to absolutely destroying him.
“HAHAHAHA- NO, FUCK-“ A few seconds of silent laughter, then screeching, then- “AAAAAAAHAHAHA- AHAHAHA! HAHAHA- MERCY, PLEASE- AHAHA I CAN’T TAKE IT! I CAN’T TAKE IT!”
Oslo couldn’t take it, that much was true. Davrin’s strong, confident fingers had plunged into the necromancer’s armpits, alternating between deeper attacks that wriggled into the flesh as if searching for something, and oscillating, spidery tickles that allowed the man time to plead.
“PLEHEHEASE-“ he’d beg between louder fits of laughter. “I’ll do- AHAHA- I’ll do ANYTHING!”
“Clearly you won’t,” Davrin murmured, “because you can stop this whenever you want.” Oslo wisely stopped using his words after that.
Davrin stopped tickling some time later, even before Oslo said the word. Despite the fact that the mage had held out (somehow), Davrin figured his increasing lack of struggling and of air meant he might wear him out too much if he kept going.
“D-didn’t… didn’t say stop…” Oslo mumbled, somehow indignant-sounding even through his residual laughter.
“I’m not looking to tickle you half to death, Oz. Here.” His hands returned to Oslo’s torso. The man almost immediately jumped and started laughing, horribly oversensitive from the previous assault, but Davrin wasn’t tickling anymore- instead, he ran his hands across all the places he was torturing before, palms flat, rubbing out the last of the tickling sensations. Oslo’s remaining laughter slowly subsided to smaller fits of giggles. Davrin moved down to Oslo’s feet, massaging where they were still sensitive, then moved up to the calves, the knees, anywhere he had tickled before. Between exhausted, sparse giggles, Oslo murmured out “thank you”s and far more pet names than he typically used. It was nice.
Davrin pressed a stiff kiss to the back of his partner’s limp, relaxed hand. “You doing okay, sweetheart?”
No response. Oslo was asleep. A rarity for the mage, who was so frequently an insomniac. Davrin decided to let him sleep, curling up next to the man protectively. Oslo had been working himself half to death most days. He needed the rest, even if it needed to be tickled into him.
Some time later, Oslo fast asleep in Davrin’s arms, with the covers pulled up, Davrin turned over to look at the carving Assan had stolen hours ago. It sat there on the nightstand, almost as if looking down at the two of them. It was a carving of Oslo, intricate and lovingly crafted. Davrin knew he’d appreciate the gift once he woke up. But that would be later.
At the moment, all was well.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Here’s another bit of a long one, but I’m really proud of this one! I’m a huge Davrin fan and I also wanted to write this kind of trope where one character discovers that the other enjoys tickling. I’d say there’s not a lot of tickle content for this game, but @fluffomatic (amazing artist that they are) got there before me. Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed my silly story and my own Rook character. :)
I want torture, but in a lighthearted way. Get goofy with it while I'm thrashing and begging. Fuck me up but like you're a cartoon villain who's using a comically large feather.
ooooh spooky @eldritch-tickles - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
