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sapphicquill · 1 month

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if i was a little kitty and you were a little kitty would you touch noses with me to say hi

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sapphicquill · 1 month

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love finding melt spots on a lee. It's not as ticklish there, but it still makes you blushing, giggly mess? You've never been cuter. You lean into it because it feels so good? It just gets better. Just gentle little scritches and kisses all over those spots work like a charm. Minimum effort, maximum enjoyment

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sapphicquill · 1 month

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Day 14: Soft

Tickletober 2023 - Critical Role - C2 - Caleb / Mollymauk - lee!Molly

[see my other tickletober 2023 fics]

[read on AO3]

A/N: Based on “Date someone who will give you back scratches when they’re reading or watching something next to you, and when you squirm they just smile because they know you love it and continue until you’re giggling up a storm. Better if they sigh slightly “You’re disturbing my peace” and tickle you more until you’re a puddle and they have the goofiest smile on their face.”

Words: 1.2k

—

Caleb doesn’t look up from the page when Molly walks into the library. He doesn’t even look up when Molly makes it over to the desk, trailing a finger over the wizard’s hunched shoulders. “And how are you doing this evening, Mr. Caleb?”

“Mm. Fine. And you?” Caleb replies, his gaze still focused intently on the text before him.

“Just fine, myself—was wondering if you’d like some company.” Mollymauk hops up onto the table, watching for a look, a glance, a little more attention. But, Caleb is dedicated, persistent—something Molly admires about him greatly. He leans back and spreads out amongst the pile of books and scrolls, knocking a few to the floor.

“You are just as bad as the cat, you know. Maybe worse.”

“And yet here we are in a home full of cats.” Molly’s voice is smug, teasing. “Do you just have a love for being close to beings that mess with you?”

Caleb rolls his eyes.

There we go. The eyes aren’t on Molly yet, but they are torn briefly from the book. An in.

Molly’s tail coils around Caleb’s wrist. “Take a little break with me, won’t you?”

Caleb huffs an almost laugh. “Maybe, in a bit.”

Mollymauk releases his wrist, pouting. He taps his nails a few times, thinking. His tail flicks.

A few minutes pass. He spins awkwardly on the table, knocking off a few more books and nearly tumbling into Caleb’s lap; he turns his head to give him a look—a rather cute, pleading, eyes-wide, I-need-you-to-pay-me-some-attention kind of look.

Caleb fights with a fond smile as his eyes flick up over the pages of the book to finally take it all in. “Alright, Liebchen.” He sighs, marks his page in the book, and closes it shut, scooting his chair back to stand. “Not a break, I’m not done yet, but… come.”

Molly sits up, stretches, and the pleased smile on his face is just as apparent in his eyes. He follows as Caleb gets up and makes his way to the much more comfortable, much better place to read —in Molly’s opinion. The sofa cushions are soft, and it’s long enough that Caleb can sit down and Molly can lounge about where he likes. The tiefling wastes no time crawling right into Caleb’s lap. He settles in face down, chin resting on his arms.

As soon as Caleb gets the book open and the bookmark safely set down, he reaches with the hand not holding up his reading materials to scratch gently at Mollymauk’s scalp.

Molly makes quite a few little sounds of approval as Caleb’s fingers card through his hair and he melts within a matter of minutes. Fingers slide gently down the back of his scalp, sending tingles down his spine as they travel down to his neck. Molly fidgets slightly, the feeling starting to prickle at the edge of ticklish. He hums, content and bubbly, against Caleb’s thigh and squirms into the nest of his own arms he’s made for himself in the wizard’s lap.

The fingers continue, light and gentle and soothing, to make their way lower onto his shoulders and upper back. It’s considerably more ticklish, but still bearable enough to release all of the silly energy with a hum and a few squirms every so often. As Caleb’s fingers trail languidly over Molly’s shoulders, side to side, he reads away above him, by all appearances not noticing the twitches below.

Each time fingers pass over a spot that hedges too close to ticklish to stay still, they continue on, not taking any extra time or particular care. But—the thing is, with how thoroughly Caleb is tracing over his back, scratching and caressing gently, he keeps going back to those spots, passing them over and over. And Molly already knows there’s a lot of them. It feels nice, it’s tingly and warm and close and just the right amount of teasing. He doesn’t want to give the wizard reason to stop any time soon, like squirming out of his lap after he just asked for attention. But also, he considers, maybe Caleb will abandon his studies and really have a go at him if he asks nice — it’s already gotten him this far.

For now, Molly opts to keep quiet, as still as he can reasonably maintain, and enjoy the affection. He’s gone with the flow many times in his life, and Caleb’s flow seems like one he would very much like to follow.

Caleb’s hand continues down, down, tickles along his back, down past his waist and Molly wriggles deeper into his lap and the couch. “Eehee- wa- heheheeEE—” He squeals into the crook of his elbow as Caleb’s blunt fingernails tickle softly over his ass, down toward the back of his thigh. “Fuck.” Molly hisses, muffled. The tracing, tickling wizard claw slowly makes it way down over his thigh to the back of his knee and Molly’s leg jerks closed involuntarily. “Nnggeh- naha shihit.”

“Be careful with those.” Caleb says sternly, an unmistakable peppering of amusement in his voice.

Molly whines quietly into his arms and lays his leg back out straight.

The game continues to build pace slowly, one hand always on the book and the other slowly tinkering with various sensitivities he can find on Molly. His shoulder blades, the backs of his ribs, his spine, anywhere near the dip of his waist or tail, the small of his back, his knees, his thighs, his ass… no where was left safe and unscrutinized. And yet, it was still so delicate, earnest, curious, and innocent. Little tingles and sparks light up across Molly’s nervous system. He’s content to live within this afternoon for the rest of his waking hours.

Then, the next time Caleb’s hand reaches up to turn the page of his book, it reappears just where the top of Molly’s thigh meets his ass. He gasps in a breath as the fingers wiggle, more deliberate and ticklish, over the skin there. They stay in that spot; unlike the skating, absentminded tickling of before — this has purpose, this has focus and intent.

Molly tries to peak up at him, abandoning his arm nest to turn and peer behind him. He gets a face-full of book for his trouble. And a pinch to the back of his thigh. He squawks at that, kicking the cushions behind him. “MmPFF!” He reburies his face to try hiding the bright laughter threatening to spill over.

“I’m trying to read, keep quiet down there.” Caleb, bemused, scolds cheekily from behind his book.

Molly rolls his eyes and tries to sit up on his elbows while fighting off more laughter. Without looking, Caleb runs a few fingers clumsily down his tail. Molly falters and crumples back into the wizard’s lap. “N-no fair.” Molly whines through his giggling. “Are yohohou gonna read all night?”

“It will take me a while, yes, if you keep distracting me.” Caleb replies, matter-of-factly.

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sapphicquill · 1 month

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Sick and twisted

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sapphicquill · 6 months

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the crushing guilt of being unproductive vs the exhaustion of being burned out. fight.

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sapphicquill · 6 months

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Okay, Kingsley never knew Frumpkin. He knew of the strays Caleb picked up here and there in Rexxentrum; the ship cats and strange breeds Kingsley seemed to collect on his travels. There was always a new set of kittens in the gardens, some with little collars woven with protective spells that would go off to new homes.

But he never knew Frumpkin.

Jester had drawn him a picture of the cat, and shown sketches she had done of everyone. She had shown him Mollymauk-- the strange brother who was so very loved he had never known-- but he had fixated on Caleb. The sketches of the wizard, hunched with a cat across his shoulders. A cat that showed up in most of the sketches; on Beau's lap, on Mollymauk's shoulders, curled in Yasha's cloak...

That's how Kingsley knew something was wrong.

The red moon had disappeared from the sky, yes. There was a web of light shifting through the sky, and magic was being stranger than normal. But it was the cat that let him know something was wrong.

The white cat didn't look like Jester's sketches. It looked like some spoilt ship cat that had just wandered too close to the throne room. It didn't look like it had ever begged for scraps in its life.

And it walked to Kingsley with a purpose that he had expected when he saw it. There was a note tucked into a ribbon around its neck, and he knew Jester's writing better than anyone. Sending was broken, she had made due with friends in the Feywild, it seemed.

"Hello," Kingsley crouched to look the cat over. Look for any hint of fey about it; "Frumpkin. What has the wizard gotten into now?"

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sapphicquill · 6 months

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Got a new game in the mail today. Who wants to play? 😉

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sapphicquill · 6 months

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Palestinians are not "animals."

They are not "children of darkness."

Little kids are rescuing cats and trying to comfort them when they themselves are terrified.

A doctor broke down when his father and brother came into the trauma unit.

And several of his colleagues hugged and gathered to comfort him.

Journalists are playing with babies.

Doctors are refusing to evacuate hospitals because their patients can't and refuse to leave them.

There's a little boy who gives tea to the journalists and thanks them for spreading their stories.

He's displaced at the hospital, his home is gone.

A kid was asked what he wants to be when he grows up and he said kids in Gaza don't grow up.

Kids are writing their names on their arms so they can be identified.

Momin Kireka is a Palestinian journalist who was disabled by an Israeli attack in 2008.

And despite the difficulty in moving around, he vows to continue to show the world the truth.

Awni, a young Palestinian boy has a gaming YouTube channel he loved so much.

He was killed in the bombing.

Mohammed Sami was an artist who's dream was to open an art gallery.

He was playing with the kids to raise their spirits. And the next day he was killed.

They are victims.

They are going through unimaginable horrors and still find it in their hearts to be kind.

They have hopes and dreams just like you and I.

They are people.

And they deserve to be remembered as such.

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sapphicquill · 6 months

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A note on Lee's and the perfect Lee's.

Alright,

I'm going in hard on this one so strap in.

I'm seeing a lot of stuff from my dash from Lee's who are feeling pretty crappy right now because they don't look like what they think Lee's like. Or they don't sound like they think Lee's sound. Or maybe they don't react like they think Lee's should react.

Fuck this.

As much as porn has ruined our definition of what sex is and what it is meant to look like, tickle porn is doing the same to our community.

So here is some stone cold truths from an old Ler.

I once tickled a Lee who didn't laugh during our session. But they loved it. They moved and they even gasped. It was beautiful.