No one judge me for making these, I’m already doing that myself so we’ve got that front covered
Acts completely above it and like he doesn’t care, but in reality he cannot take tickling for the life of him.
Not the most ticklish out of them *looks directly at Yellow Guy* but definitely up there. Doesn’t laugh or squirm that much, it’s more of a curl up in a ball and try to muffle his giggles in his arms or shoulder type deal.
Fairly decent at holding in his laughter at first, and a lot of people think he’s not ticklish because of it. However, if you keep at one spot for long enough you’ll see his composure slowly crumble.
Very observant when it comes to this stuff, much to the annoyance of the others. Duck likes to act like it doesn’t affect him, and Red calls him out on it every single time.
Also, apparently he has teeth? So anyways, ticklish neck bites with Duck are a thing.
He’s super contradictory, because he himself can talk about the Thing all he wants, and will bring it up just to fuck with them, but the second someone else starts talking about it, he gets really nervous and fidgety and will attempt to subtly leave the room.
It’s his neck guys. That’s what you gotta go for. Don’t ask me why, the knowledge has simply been imported into my brain.
Will tickle Yellow Guy when the other’s feeling down and fucking demolish Duck just for funsies.
He has a blog for the Thing and Duck found it once, and he’s never been able to live that down.
“What? Me? Ticklish? No, of course I’m not” followed by awkward laughs that are a dead give away. Spoiler alert, he absolutely fucking is.
Unlike Red Guy, he cannot sit still for the life of him when tickled and you’re liable to get kicked in the face or swatted by a stray arm if you try. He doesn’t do it on purpose either, he simply cannot handle it.
Despite this, he actually doesn’t mind getting tickled, and has shyly asked Red Guy to do it to him from time to time. He’s considered asking Duck before, but usually concludes that the ridicule he’d receive wouldn’t be worth it.
HOWEVER Duck is the one who tickles him the most. Usually because he’s being annoying, or to prove a point, or simply because Duck thinks its funny how susceptible he is to it (and maybe he likes how his laughter brightens the house and how happy he looks afterwards but we don’t talk about that).
As stated before, Yellow Guy is 100% the most ticklish out of their group.
Giggles before he’s even tickled, very weak to the whole “hover your hands over a spot” trick.
Tries to put up a tough front, key word being “tries”.
Tickles the others all the fucking time because he has no sense of self-preservation (Red Guy lets him, but Duck is this close to straight up homicide)
Will swear up and down on his mother’s grave that he’s not ticklish and will inflict harm on those who try, with his friends being the only exception.
In my perfect world, Duck and Red Guy are dating (it’s totally definitely canon, don’t worry about it), and as a result, Red Guy is the only one who knows the extent of just how ticklish Duck is.
Yellow Guy tickles him often, but he’s never able to get very far before Duck nearly takes off his head. Red Guy has gotten more luck with it, and teases him with it constantly, coming up behind him to squeeze his sides or wiggle fingers against his neck. Duck will let out this panicked shriek that makes it sound like he’s being murdered and Red Guy will raise a brow, as if he didn’t just invoke that, like, “I don’t know what you’re getting so worked up about”.
Claims he hates being tickled lies.
Worst spot are his sides for sure, he can only handle being tickled there for so long.
Head scratches from Red Guy usually end in tickly fingers running over his neck and back, and he has to hold himself back from giggling like an idiot throughout it.
The biggest ler out of the group, and the meanest too. He’ll use teasing like it’s a fucking weapon, and is scarily good at finding the tactics that works best for each of them.
The only person who can make Red Guy blush (though it’s difficult to tell, even then, for,,,, obvious reasons)
body double: chapter one
a re-write of season one of DHMIS, re-ordered into a slightly different (and more painful) narrative, inspired by a conversation with @meerlichtz in the mulhoven discord server
chapter one: electricity
“No stop it! That’s not what you say! It’s you who’s gone wrong!”
The green one squawked, shrill panic tainting the edges of his speech. His wide eyes focused onto the yellow one in front of him, some kind of sick feeling settling in his stomach. He doesn’t know quite why the prospect of something being... wrong unsettles him so deeply, but the alarm bells are already blaring in his mind, and he has no time to stop and think.
“Look let’s just... get back on track, okay?” The red one offers, craning his head down nearer to the duck, trying to catch his eyes or distract him or anything to get that scared look off his face. He of all people knew that this was very, very wrong, but the shortest’s panic wasn’t helping, he could practically feel the waves of anxiety pouring off the little avian.
“But he’s- He’s gone wrong!” The duck answers back, making eye contact this time, feathers puffed up in some kind of instinct. The yellow one slips quietly down the hall. Red shuffles his chair slightly closer to the duck, barely even a noticeable amount, but the gesture makes his breath hitch slightly, before his mind is overtaken by panic once more.
Red doesn’t comfort. He doesn’t talk in the soft, hushed tone he’s currently using, not to the duck anyway. He’s seen him act this way before with the little one, awkward comfort and a calming voice, petting his hair with his comically large paw when something sets him off or he has a nightmare.
But now Red held his gaze with that same look in his eyes, his hand resting near the duck’s on the table, a friend trying to help. The relaxing, low tone of Red’s droning voice slowly dissolved the panic clouding the duck’s mind, but the proximity between the two was enough to put him back on edge.
It must be bad this time. Red doesn’t do this. He doesn’t speak like this to you. He doesn’t look after you. The other one has gone wrong.
“It’s fine, just ignore him. Now, what about- “
Red’s voice fills his mind as he rambles about something unimportant, catching the bird’s eye every so often to make sure he’s still present, still distracted. Eventually the yellow one walks back through the kitchen and up the stairs, stealing a glance at the two sitting at the table. The avian stares back, a slight look of horror returning to his face as he watches the yellow one disappear up the shadowy staircase that he’d never quite noticed before. How hadn’t he noticed?
Red compensates for this by sneaking even closer, still inches from the duck’s side but somehow too close at the same time, almost reaching for his hand but hesitating. The duck seems to calm again, or at least stops looking so petrified for a second, and Red continues to drone on about electricity and lessons and insurance. Anything to distract the roommate he swore he didn’t care about at all. And maybe to distract himself too.
He's gone wrong!
Wrong. Duck knew something was wrong. Had he always? Had Red just not paid enough attention? If he was honest, he’d always written the smallest of their trio off as a lost cause in his head. Sure, sometimes he seemed to have moments of clarity, but most of the time he just went along with the absurdity of the... whatever it is they were all in, directing his attention towards how to get a rise out of Red rather than wondering why the fuck is my smart meter singing to me? The annoying little smirk that adorned the bird’s face every time he managed to get Red to raise his voice seemed solid enough proof that he was not an ally in this situation, but now? He knew something was wrong. And he knew that meant something very bad.
Red shakes away a thought at the back of his mind, a memory itching for his attention, the panic in the bird’s voice seeming far too recognisable. For a split second, a ghostly memory, faded and blurred like an old photo, before it slips away again, and Red loses his train of thought.
“I don’t wanna do this anymore!”
Its dark. They can’t see.
Normally the dark is suffocating. Claustrophobic. The black of their shared bedroom. Shadows thick as tar. Staring at the ceiling. Knowing that the sooner you sleep, the sooner the next day comes, the sooner the cycle restarts. This dark was different, though.
Duck can’t quite put his finger on what he feels. Free? Not really, he’s still inside the house and if anything, he can’t see the door even if he wanted to leave. He feels... like he can breathe a little better. He can’t feel the creeping paranoia, the constant sense that someone’s watching. His head hasn’t felt this clear since... maybe forever. It’s like he can properly see for the first time, ironic seeing as he’s in pitch darkness.
He uses his hand (Wing? Feathers?) to tentatively feel behind him, sinking against the smooth surface of their fridge, tipped on its side for some reason. He hits the cool tiled floor, adjusting to steal a glance, or rather a squint considering the lack of light, at his housemate assuming a similar position next to him. It was almost nice like this. No sound other than quiet breathing, no fluorescent lights or loud teachers or eyes watching. Of course, it couldn’t stay that nice for very long.
“Hey, what happened to your phone?” The tall one breaks the silence, of course he does, and with such a silly question too. He turns to the duck slightly as he speaks, once again far away and yet all too close at the same time.
“I’m saving the battery.”
“Saving the battery for what?”
“Well, I might want to use the calculator.
The man next to him sighs. It’s barely an argument, not even a bicker, but it feels a lot more normal. The bird thinks he quite likes this, just him and the other one, two people alone in the dark. Some shameful part of his brain suggests it might feel even nicer if he was closer. If he could see the other better.
“Anyway, we may as well get used to living in the dark.”
The dark is comforting. The dark lets him hide. There’s no role to play in the dark, it’s just him, just-
“Well, it’s just not that great is it?”
The bird has to disagree with that. Isn’t the dark a million times better than the alternative? They’re safe here. He’s safe here. At least with the lights out, he can look at Red without being seen, or at least the vague man-like shape that he thinks is Red. He never quite figured out why he likes to do that. I mean, he’s not the most interesting thing to look at in the world. He’s just a bit red.
“I wouldn’t mind looking at the house again,”
There’s a pause before the sentence continues. A slight shake in the tall one’s voice, like he’s uncertain. Nervous. So tiny you can barely hear it, but the dim echo of the kitchen amplifies it. The bird can’t fathom what he could possibly be nervous about. I mean, there’s no-one here! Except him of course, but Red seems to have no trouble saying all manner of ridiculous or insulting things to him on a daily basis.
“Looking at you too.”
Seconds feel like days. A shuffle of felt can be heard as Red looks away. The duck searches gently with his hands, gauging how far away the tall one is from him. Too far.
An hour ago, the bird couldn’t have even told you if he considered the tall one to be an acquaintance, never mind a friend, and definitely never mind whatever this is. Those four words make his head spin slightly, he feels clammy all of a sudden, cold and hot and wrong and right all simultaneously. Thoughts bounce around his mind like pinballs, faster and faster until one voice speaks louder than the others.
“Really? You like looking at me?”
You just said that out loud you dimwit.
Where on earth did that come from? He said he wouldn’t mind! Not that he liked it!
Despite the crushing embarrassment threatening to pull the avian deep into some sort of inescapable pit of shame, he keeps his eyes on the shadow of his housemate. The other doesn’t quite look back at him, but he raises his eyes from the floor, clearing his throat slightly.
“Uh. Yeah. I suppose I do.”
It’s short. And pretty non-committal. But it’s enough to involuntarily puff up every feather on the bird’s body, nerves tingling with electricity, a different kind this time, something loud and scary but somehow right. He’s so overcome by the questions in his mind and the warmth somehow collecting on his cheeks that he almost forgets to answer.
“Well, I like looking at you, too.”
That sentence finally leads Red to look up, leaning slightly closer to his companion. Glass eyes meeting felt, scanning and staring as if to make sure the duck is telling the truth. That this isn’t some dumb joke.
It comes out almost teasing, and for a second the bird’s heart drops, expecting some biting punchline to fall from Red’s mouth, but it doesn’t come.
“Thanks. For that.”
It’s simple. Almost too simple but perfect at the same time. Why weren’t things always this simple?
They both sit motionless in the afterglow, letting the moment simmer. The duck feels like his insides are on show. Like his ribcage has been inexplicably split open. Like his heart is held in his hands, the butterflies in his stomach soaring around his room, every part of him suddenly seen. Faint memories of a hospital table, fear, horrible vulnerability. Only this time, it isn’t so horrible. This isn’t so scary.
A shuffle. The tall one scoots across black and white tile as casually as he can, red felt brushing against green feather. Leg touching leg, hands inches apart. All the duck would have to do is reach out. The tall one clears his throat again, and the duck can hear his slightly shaky breaths, yarn drifting gently in front of his mouth. He’s easier to look at now, and somehow nicer to stare at than ever before. Perhaps now because he’s allowed to.
The bird tentatively stretches his fingers towards the warmth of the other one’s hand, and as he makes contact, feathered pinky finger wrapping around the other’s, he decides he can’t stand to call him “the other one” any longer.
“My name. It’s Robin.”
He looks to the other for a response, only finding shock in his eyes. He seems to lose his focus for a moment, coughing slightly like he didn't expect his housemate to have a name at all, before he meets Robin’s eyes again.
“It’s a nice name. Bit ironic though.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“Well, y’know. Robin. Those tiny, pretty little birds. I don’t know much about birds, but I know you definitely aren’t a Robin.”
“I thought you said you liked looking at me”
That seems to catch the other off guard, his breath hitching, turning into a half-wheeze when he sees Robin’s offended expression. He backtracks, it is a nice name, really! It suits the other well, he was just teasing!
“Sure…” Robin seems unimpressed by the other one’s attempt. “Well go on, what’s yours then? I don’t give out my personal information for free you know.”
The other one meets his eyes again, staring for a moment. Understanding. Mutual. Unspoken.
“It’s Harry. Boring, I know.”
“No, it isn’t boring!” Robin squawks, feeling immediately shameful as the other o- Harry. As Harry quirks his brow at him, amused. He wasn’t sure why he was so defensive over the other’s name. It’s just a name. “I mean, it suits you. It’s very you. It’s nice I think”
Robin lets a breath out, head resting against the appliance behind him, suddenly feeling tired after whatever… that was. Harry seems to mirror this, leaning his head down to stare into Robin’s eyes. No words, no teasing, no confession. Just a look. It’s enough to make Robin feel dizzy again.
Harry wraps more of his hand around Robin’s, until their fingers are almost interlocked, stealing a glance at their conjoined fingers. This is different. But for the first time, a good different. He wants it to stay like this. He doesn’t really know what this is, but he knows it's good. Fingers clutching eachother, legs pressed against the other, no questions or answers, just them.
The door creaks open, light intrudes into the room. A short figure stands at the door. Two hands pull apart.