#tickle bug
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BULLY
Hmm but you’re a lee so u must like being bullied 🤔
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me being so normal about your tickletober list (screaming and tweaking and rolling on the floor)
Hehehe, you & me both! (Seriously I’m going feral over all these prompts!)
Just posted some more prompts I got, & I must say y’all have some downright immaculate ideas. October will be splendid indeed
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Wrangling the Children onto some fresh leaves. The Cecropia Kids are over 40 days old and still growing, and I’m starting to worry they won’t pupate in before I leave on vacation . Granted, I’m sure everything will be ok but it’s in my nature to worry over multi-legged invertebrate children. I just love larvae.
(Forgive the frass, I cleaned it out shortly after getting all the cats onto fresh food)
#hyalophora cecropia#cecropia moth#caterpillars#invertebrates#larvae#bugs#insect#bug keeping#I love these guys so much#they walk right onto my hands and it tickles!#I wash my hands for their safety and only handle very lightly and only when coaxing them into new food#they’re very chill and docile#if they don’t pupate in a week I have to hunt down a box elder tree in a new neighborhood and I’m worried#will it be good enough for the children? I hope so
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how about 13 for superbat? // definitely not @tickle-bugs in a trenchcoat and sunglasses
“Don’t laugh while I’m trying to talk to you!” Bruce growled, the corner of his mouth twitching up without his permission as Clark burst into another peel of deep belly laughter.
"I--I ca-haha-can't help it!" Clark protested, arms cross tightly across his chest as he tried to block as much skin as possible from Bruce's wandering fingers.
"Did you tell Diana about me?!" Bruce demanded, latching onto Clark's hips and squeezing as fast as he could.
"Nohohohohoho!"
"No, you didn't tell her? Or no? Don't tickle you?"
"Both! Both! Bru-hahaha-Bruce!"
"Hngh." Bruce continued his palpitations, intimately aware that if Clark really wanted to put a stop to this he could.
"I sw-hahaha-swear I didn't!"
"Then how does she know?!" That voice has caused more than one criminal to wet their pants in fear, but Clark simply threw his head back and laughed harder.
"Ma-hah-maybe she--" Clark broke off into a squeal when Bruce dragged his nails across the thin skin between his hipbones. Bruce zeroed in on the spot, but Clark was cheating and using his powers to block his access. "Maybe she sees through your tough-guy schtick." Clark panted, finally able to catch his breath now that he was pushing Bruce's hands away in earnest.
"You think this is all an act?" Bruce asked, his voice dangerously quiet as his eyes bore into Clark's.
"Face it, B. You're a big softy, and we all know it." Clark was smirking at him, and Bruce was going to make him pay dearly for it.
Bruce pulled his hands away, cracked his knuckles, and smirked. Clark's eyes widened, but before he could decide on a course of action Bruce threw himself down onto Clark's shins, got his ankles into a headlock, and proceeded to go to town on the soles of his feet.
"Wa-hahahaha-wait!" Clark cackled, collapsing backwards are Bruce clawed at the sensitive skin. "Wait! I ta-hahaha-ke it ba-hahaha-ck!"
"I'll show you soft." Bruce growled, smirking as he fluttered quick fingers under Clark's toes, hanging on for dear life as he started thrashing beneath him.
#drabble#superbat#ticklish!clark kent#ticklish!superman#i had to switch it up because I know in my heart of hearts that Bugs like ticklish clark the best#and I like her the best#so#here it is#tickling fanfiction
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Wait guys
#this has been tickling my mind#cuz he’s also an air nomad technically#but we saw him eat bugs#appas def a vegetarian#should I be saying herbivores instead of vegetarian#tags->#avatar the last airbender#avatar: tla#team avatar#aang#katara#zuko#sokka#suki#toph#Appa#momo#air nomads#live action atla#atla#natla#zukka#Kataang
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Kinger won the vote! Maybe I'll write for Gangle next?
Pomni stares blankly at the assortment of bugs scattered across the table. "What exactly are we doing?"
Kinger jumps with a yelp, startled by Pomni's sudden appearance. "Oh, Pomni! When did you get here?"
"I've been here the whole time," she mutters, a bit annoyed at the chess piece. "Why are we looking at bugs?"
"Did you want to see my insect collection?" He asked, holding up an ant for her to see.
Pomni cringed away from the bug. "Uhh, not really."
"Ah. Well, let me know if you change your mind." He puts down the ant in exchange for a ladybug. "Did you know ladybugs have two wings? Their bottom wings are hidden under their top wings- or elytra."
Pomni wasn't listening. She was too busy questioning everything that brought her here. Originally, Kinger had asked for her help with cooking. Which was odd enough by itself, since they didn't need to cook. Instead of a kitchen, he took her to a table full of bugs. Then he completely forgot about her. Maybe she should ask Caine if he could do something about Kinger's memory.
Pomni groaned. It's no use. Didn't Caine say something about not being able to control their minds? They'd probably all end up like Kinger one day.
If they didn't abstract first that is.
The jester was shaken from her spiraling thoughts by another yelp. She looks around, wondering what had startled Kinger this time. Nothing looked out of the ordinary... Wait-
Was that giggling?
Pomni spun back around, surprised to see the source of the giggling was coming from Kinger himself. "Huh? What's so funny?" She asked, not knowing what to do.
Kinger didn't respond. He was frantically wiggling and reaching for something on his back.
"Kinger? Are you alright?" The little jester was growing more worried by the second. Did their oldest member finally lose what little sanity he had left? She was about to get Caine, but stopped when she saw a beetle crawl from his robe onto his neck. "O-oh!" She gasped, gently picking the beetle from the chess piece.
Kinger sighs in relief, fixing his rumpled robe. Glancing up, he noticed the bug in Pomni's hand. "Ah! I was looking for that beetle everywhere! Where did you find it?" He tilts his head, looking curious.
"I- I saw it on your neck. Or- Whatever it is you have... Was it tickling you?"
"Tickling? What do you mean?" He noticed the beetle again. "A beetle! Did you know there are 350,000 known spices of beetles? That one you're holding is called a jewel beetle." He explains as he took the beetle from her.
Pomni felt her eye twitching, but now she was curious. She waits for the bug expert to put the beetle safely on the table before delivering some pokes to his side.
Kinger squeaks, jumping away from her hand. "Huh?! What was that?!" He looks this way and that, trying to find what poked him. "Pomni, I think I'm starting to lose my mind!"
Pomni had to stifle her laughter. "I think you've already lost your mind," she said, shaking her head.
Kinger stares at her. His eyes blinked one at a time, almost like a frog.
"When did you get there?"
#roman writes things#the amazing digital circus tickles#lee!kinger#ler!pomni#kind of#kinger is a bug nerd#rip his sanity#he misses his wife#tadc kinger#tadc pomni#the amazing digital circus#the amazing digital circus kinger#tadc#the amazing digital circus pomni
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For the writing thingie, maybe ler!Robin lee!Steve? The phrase could be “Steve, don’t make me sit on you again…”
your honor, they are everything to me. hope u enjoy!! still trying to figure out robin tbh
Under Covers
Robin leans her bike against the garage, careful not to scrape. Steve’s home--his car sits idle in the driveway, waiting patiently to ferry them both to Family Video. They’re already late, technically, but they’re not late late yet.
An argument could be made that she could simply bike to work, admonishing Steve from the high horse of punctuality, but that’s no fun.
She jiggles her key in the lock and throws the door open, dumping her bag by the door. It’s quiet and dark downstairs, the kitchen unused, neither of which are a good sign. Steve’s usually a morning person, but on the days where he isn’t, he has to be surgically removed from sleep. It’s a coin toss, really, if he’s late over his hair or late for oversleeping and his hair.
She inhales as much as her lungs can manage, then: “Steeeeeeevvvvveeeeee!”
No response. She scowls.
She helps herself to a glass of orange juice and promptly rinses the glass, never one to make extra work for Steve when possible. Bothering him, yes, but inconveniencing him? Not if she can help it.
She thumps up the stairs two at a time. Steve’s bedroom door is cracked open when she gets there, exposing the comically lumpy mass of blankets on his bed and the upsetting pile of laundry in not one, but two corners of the room. Robin has half a mind to do a running jump onto the bed, but he’s gotten way too good at convincing her to take pre-work naps. They need this job. Unfortunately.
“Steve. Steven. Steeb.” Robin leans in the doorframe, biting her lip on an affectionate smile. Steve’s hair pokes out just at the top of the blanket pile.
“Don’t make me sit on you,” She says a little louder, moving over to the left side of the bed. Steve wrinkles his nose and makes a grumbly noise.
“Three, two--”
“Bobin?” He mumbles, squinting at her.
She pounces. He screams, muffled by the blanket, but then he tumbles into wild giggles and flails for purchase.
“Get up, get up, get up!” She squeezes at his sides through the blanket, feeling around blindly but knowing intimately where to strike. His arms fly free of the blanket and he starts grappling with her, trying to poke at her like the bastard he is, but she’s on a goddamn mission. Either they’re getting to work on time (unlikely) or he’s going to die (still on the table).
“Get. up.” She starts tickling his ribs, sliding up under his arms every time he tries to swat at her. Steve honest-to-god snorts, which she didn’t know he could do. She catalogues it for later.
“W-Why--Ah, Robin, nohoho!” Steve whines and covers his face. She starts poking at his stomach, speeding up whenever he tries to grab her. His laughter revs like an engine. He twists away suddenly, curling up on his side and as close to the edge of the bed as he can physically get. Robin chuckles at him and tazers his side. He makes no sense. Only Steve would forfeit all the empty space in his bed rather than use it to escape.
“We’re late, dingus!” She reaches back and squeezes his thigh. He shrieks like his life depends on it, voice cracking around his laughter in that way she loves.
“I’m up!” Steve wheezes, lunging forward to grab her wrists. She squeezes again and he crumples into the mattress, throwing his head back against the pillows. He tries to say her name, or possibly curse at her, but all that comes out is a jumble of syllables and frantic, nervous giggles.
“No, if you were up, you’d be getting ready.” She pauses, just to prove her point. Steve pushes his hair out of his face and fixes her with the bitchiest look he can manage. She grins. He scowls.
“I’ll drag you out of bed if I have to.” She crosses her arms. When he wriggles down into the bed like an indignant little worm, he earns her wrath. It’s only natural. She’s given him an out and a half. Robin feels around under the blanket and grabs Steve’s ankle, skittering her nails over the curve of his heel and up. It’s a fast track to a black eye, but she’s gotten quicker lately.
There’s a screechy peal of laughter, then a thump--a loud one, and not from Steve’s side. Robin peers over the right side of the bed, feeling for the nearest pillow to defend herself from whatever creatures might lurk in here.
Instead, she finds Eddie Munson. His hair’s a mess, more so than usual, and his face is bright pink. He’s oddly jittery.
“What.” Robin and Eddie blink at each other. She looks down at her hand, clutched around what is decidedly not Steve’s foot, then back up at Eddie. He gives her a sheepish wave.
“Oh my god.” She drops Eddie’s ankle. Eddie. Here. In Steve’s bed.
“Robin--” Steve holds his hands out soothingly.
“Oh my god.” She drops her head in her hands.
“Is that a good ‘oh my god’ or do I need to change my locks?” Eddie asks from somewhere beside her. He climbs back up onto the bed and drops beside her. The mattress dips to accept him.
“Still deciding,” She groans. Steve rubs her back, murmuring something soft and sickeningly fond in Eddie’s direction. She’s happy for Steve--god, she’s over the fucking moon for him, really. She teases him because someone needs to, but her heart swells knowing there was a resolution to all the yearning passing between the two of them.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. I should’ve been the first to know!” Robin smacks Steve’s bare chest. He catches her hand.
“Well, you’re like the third to know.” Robin glares at him, but Steve throws his hands up in surrender. “Kidding! Third, because me and Eddie. Honestly, Rob, we were gonna tell you.”
“We’re, uhm, still figuring it out.” Eddie nudges her shoulder, but his shmoopy eyes are firmly on Steve. Gross.
“Alright, well…I have questions. So many questions. But first--” She pokes his chest as aggressively as possible. Eddie copies her, hitting Steve’s stomach instead.
“Up, yes, I knohow--” Steve’s voice breaks on a giggle. He crumples awkwardly into Robin, twisting away from Eddie. Robin’s tempted to help, but she leans away from Steve to give Eddie more access. Drama’s more fun, anyhow. Steve doesn’t laugh nearly enough.
“No--” Steve points accusingly at Eddie. Eddie only grins wider in response.
“You’ve given me a tremendous gift, Buckley!” Eddie cackles, wiggling his fingers into Steve’s sides. Steve yelps and bolts, managing to skid in the bathroom and slam the door before Eddie can vault over the bed. Robin and Eddie both chuckle.
“Sorry if I helped make you late,” Eddie says, fiddling with the edge of the blanket. A devious little idea grows in the back of her head.
“Yeah, you did.” She lunges at him with an evil laugh. Eddie squeaks and tries to scramble away, but Robin’s on him already, heart growing three sizes at the now-pair of dinguses she’d never choose to live without.
#my fics#bug’s greatest hits#stranger things#steeb and bobin <3#ticklish!steve harrington#steve harrington#robin buckley#eddie munson#steddie#yes robin has a key to steve's house#also eddie was 100% helping robin tickle steve she just didn't know#god i missed these three so much. i miss writing them!!!!
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“Is it a bug or is it my hair tickling me” season is here and I’m not okay.
#😵💫#slapped myself#bugs#warm weather#summer#hair#long hair#i hate bugs#creep#jeepers creepers#tickle content#tickled#spring#fall#winter
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IIIIEEEEE MY NEW LAYOUT /POS POS POS
#i have a webkinz special interest btw#i’m so happy right now my pfp is SO CUTE#thinking about flutter bugged </////3#/pos#i can’t believe webkinz has a tickle-centric game#11 year-old me was FERAL OVER IT#and i am still feral NOW
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Caterpillar Rave (Moriarty The Patriot)
~I wrote this at 3 am.~
CW: Bugs, swearing
Summary: A caterpillar shows up in William's study and he's not having it. Sherly finds the whole thing incredibly amusing.
~~~
“Liam..”
“Don’t.” The blonde cut him off, not at all liking how amused Sherlock Holmes sounded in this moment. “Please, just…remove it.”
“But Liam, it’s only a ‘Pilly!” Sherlock nodded to the bright green caterpillar sitting on the window seal, struggling along towards one of William’s potted plants. “Don’t you know these little guys turn into some of the prettiest butterflies?”
“I don’t care. Remove it, please.” William glared, not budging from his spot towards the back of the room, his face grim. He had come to his study this morning to find none other than this intruder lingering about. “Ideally before it makes a meal out of my roses.”
“But of course.” Sherlock grinned, walking over and gathering the small critter in hand, giggling as it marched across his fingers. “Tickly little thing, aren’t ya? Alright- where’d you want this little guy, Liam?”
“Outside preferably- don’t come over here with it!” William stepped back when the detective approached, cupping his hands. “Just- dispose of it out the window or something!”
“Come now, Liam. You and I both know ‘Pilly’s don’t hurt humans.” Sherlock laughed as he turned back to the window, opening it up and letting the little guy go among some nearby ivy. “They’re good for the Ecosystem! Eat all the invasive plants and whatnot.”
“That’s lovely, and I’ll gladly let them do that outside. Not here.” William seemed to relax some upon the caterpillar’s exit, turning to his desk. “They’re welcome to the weeds amongst the garden; though I suspect Fred will pitch a fit if they find their way to his tomatoes..”
“Poor kid would disguise himself as one just to take them down.” Sherlock snickered at the mental image, walking up to William with his hands still in fists. “I hadn’t known you were afraid of Pillys, Liam.”
“I’m not afraid of them. I just find them disgust-EEH!” William archered when he felt something ticklish at the back of his neck, his collar being pulled. Slapping a hand there, the other reaching around to feel his back, it was only then he realized nothing had been dropped down his clothes. Turning around, he cut a scary look at Sherlock, face red. “You are a scoundrel, Mr. Holmes.”
Sherlock howled in mirth, head thrown back as he held his belly. “Oohohohoho my god! What a sqheheheal that was, Liam! Oohohohoho, god! *Snort* Yohohohohur fahahahce!”
William only continued to glare, arms crossed and scowl permanent as Sherlock doubled over, slapping his knees as he cackled. “Are you done? If not, you can continue your laughing fits back at Baker Street.”
“Wahhait! Wait, Liam, I’m-pffft! Ehehehe! I’m sorry!” Sherlock shuffled over to the glaring blonde, holding up his hands in apology. “You’d know I’d never actually do that to you! I just wahahanted to spohohook you, thahahat’s all!”
William only turned away, silent as stone. Sherlock sobered, wondering if he’d genuinely hurt the other man with his prank.
“Liam, I truly am sorry-”
What happened next was a blur. Sherlock had gone to apologize properly, a flash of red gleamed, and the next thing he knew he was on his back, arching with a shout of laughter as William’s fingers attacked his ribs. “AH! AHhahhehahhahahaha! L-LIihihihihiham, pleahahhahahahse!”
“My, how quickly you’ve gone to begging. After how much laughing you’ve done at me just now, I’d figure you’d want to keep going.” William teased, something devilish in his voice as he wormed his fingers up and down Sherlock’s ribs. “Don’t stop on my account, now.”
“Ahehahahhhahahahaha! Lihihihiihihiam! Lihihihihiam, pleehahahhhahahse, nohohohohot the rihihihiihihihbs!” The detective thrashed and squealed, torn between curling into a ball and fighting the hands working their way up slowly towards his upper ribs. “Coohohohohome ohohoohoh, I’m shahahhhahahrry!”
“I don’t believe you.” William spoke without malice. “This isn’t nearly as hard as the way you laughed after your little prank. I think it’s only fair we reach that same level before I let you go.” His thumbs drew circles against the brunette’s upper ribs, the rest of his fingers tapping along his armpits. “My, is this a bad spot?”
“EEEE! Lihihiihhiihhiam, dohoohohoohon’t!” Sherlock arched, nearly sending them both flying as those dastardly fingers dug into his upper torso. Reaching out, he gently squeezed the blonde’s sides, making him yelp and pull his hands back. “Gohohohohotcha nohohohohow!”
“Ihihi’m suhuhuhre you thohohohught!” William giggled out as he pushed the hands away, reaching back and squeezing Sherlock’s knee. The detective all but spasmed, a squeaky guffaw breaking out his lips. “Now, If I recall correctly, you have a rather good tickle spot right along…”
“Nohohohoho! Nohohoohho, Liahahhaam plehehehahse! Not the fehehhet! Not the FEHHEHEHEHEHEHEHT!” Sherlock shrieked when his feet were attacked, William’s nails dancing against his socked soles. Flopping like a fish, Sherlock’s next few rounds of noise were a combination of swears, jumbled threats, and pleads for mercy. “LIHIHIIIHIAM, PLEHAHHAHAHSE!”
“Done laughing at me? Are you going to pull any more tricks like that?” William asked.
“YHEHEHEHEHEHS! I MEAHHAHAN NOOHOOHOHO! BOHOHOHOOTH?”
“Both? Now which one are you referring to, Sherly?” William released his feet, moving back up to squeeze the detective’s legs, making him kick and giggle. “Are you intending to prank me again with those awful things?”
“Nohohoohhoohoho! *Snort* Nehehhehehehver!” Sherlock wheezed, cheeks rosy and lightly glistening.
“Are you done laughing at me?”
“Mahahhahaybe? Ah! Ohoohohokay ohohohokay!” Sherlock squeaked when a hand went back to his knee briefly. “Ihihihihiihm done, I swhehheahhahar!”
“Hm…very well.” William released the other, watching as Sherlock collapsed against the wooden floors with a gasp. “You’re forgiven. Do that again and I’ll have your head.”
“Whihiihch one?” Sherlock asked, giggling through a yelp when William pinched his arm, shaking his head.
“You’re terrible.”
“You lohohove me.”
“You’re just fortunate I do.” William turned to get up, only to find Sherlock’s arms locking him in place. “Sherly, I do need to get some work done.”
“You tickle me to tears and think that’s the end? I think not!” Sherlock declared, pressing his face into the blonde’s neck, nuzzling it gently. “Besides, you work all the time. Come spend the day with me. We’ll go to that hotspring again- get something good to eat along the way. Besides.” Sherlock’s tone turned conspiratorial as he eyed the window. “What if that Pilly comes back and brings friends? They’d ambush you!”
“I’ll be sure to sacrifice you to them.” William elbowed him gently in the belly, earning a huff of laughter against his neck. “I’m sure they’d find someone like you to their taste; even if it’d be a light meal when they reach your brain.”
“Light meal!? Oh, you’re asking for it now, Liam! Come here!” The tickles resumed, this time William’s laughter filling the room alongside Sherlocks.
~~~
Down below, Fred stared incredulously at the small patch of Caterpillars munching at his Tomato plant.
“This.” He pointed, already making plans on his newest disguise. “Means WAR!”
Thanks for reading!
#MTP#tickle#tickle fic#sherlock holmes#william james moriarty#sherliam#fluff#Lee!Sherlock#I wrote this forever ago#It was all a blur#I like the idea of William being afraid of caterpillers#And lee!Sherly Burly#I'm incredibly tired as I write these tags lols#tw: bugs#tw: swearing#pranks and hijinks#I'm going to bed now I swear#I just found this this morning and it made me laugh all day and now I'm sharing it lols#goodnight everyone for real now :P
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as a thank you for over 100 followers here's a sneak peak of the bug behind the blog 🐛
✨️ no reblogs please 🫶 ✨️
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its crazy how a 2 inch insect has me crying, unable to sleep, and feeling threatened for my life
#ITS IN MY FUCKING BED#SO I GO TO SLEEP ON THE COUCH AND THERES ONE IN THE KITCHEN SINK#I think theres an infestation in our pipes#but every little scratch tickle#tiny dark thing makes me jump#i legitamtley stood in one place not moving for an hour just paralyzed#then i thought it went away so i turned around and it was ON MY FUCKING BED#being on the floor or on the celings or walls or in the sinks or on the counts is one thing#BUT ITS ON MY FUCKING BED#im scared to to like be in my house because of this stupid ass bug#why did my brain decided to be deathly afraid od cockroaches#roaches#cockroaches#insects#phobia#phobias#fear#vent#venting#rant
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affirming wasp therian feelings by just pointing at anything nearby and asking "anyone else going to lay an egg in that?"
#vespidazed.txt#therian#seriously it tickles us how wasps are just The Bug That Lay Eggs In Things#self-affirming as ontological parasites (positive)
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okay but brand new relationship Superbat
Alfred walks in on Clark straddling Bruce's lap, hands buried in Bruce's armpits as Bruce does his best to remain stoic. Normally Alfred would turn on his heel and leave as quietly as he entered when he walks into a scene like this, but Bruce left his gauntlets on top of the coffee machine again, and at this point it had to be a deliberate act because Alfred dared to suggest he call it an early night last night.
"Master Kent." It's gratifying to see Superman startled by his voice; the poor man visibly jumps but remains where he lands on Bruce's lap. "You may have more success with his stomach." Alfred runs a hand down his own stomach, right where it tapers off to his side.
Clark lights up like Christmas has come early, in direct contrast to Bruce's eyes going wide as he begins trying to shove him away in earnest.
"Alfred." Bruce hisses, hands grabbing onto Clark's, lacing their fingers together. "You're fired."
Alfred's eyebrow raises of its own volition. "In that case," both of their heads whip around to stare at them. Clark's face is full of glee. Bruce looks torn between pleading and defiance. "I must insist you go for his neck."
He backs out of the room to the sounds of Bruce's panicked protests, quickly followed by scratchy frantic laughter that he hasn't heard in a long long time.
#Cheesy ending#Drabble#Someone should turn this into a whole thing#Ahem#@bugs I'm looking at you I'm begging please#Superbat#ticklish!batman#ticklish!bruce wayne#ticklish!brucewayne#Alfred pennyworth#He's the worst/best#Tickling fanfiction
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Therapy Dog
(great art by @//akkasute on Instagram)
Fandom: Puss in Boots: The Last Wish ☠️
A/N: I remember when I said I’d do some tickle art for this movie- I wanted to, couldn’t find the time, but I got an idea for a fic after seeing lots of pics of Perrito and Death’s friendship in the film! Speaking of 2022 blockbusters, I wanna do something with the new Avatar movie lol, so anyways- onto fic :D
Pairing: Perrito + Death, friendship, lee!Perrito, ler!Death
Death itself was the only force that could make fearless hero Puss in Boots’ whiskers fray, its eerie whistle howling whenever the red eyes met his. This force had a non-metaphorical or rhetorical, honest to goodness face, and while it wasn’t ugly, it was unsightly to behold.
But right now, two beady eyes dared to look directly in the face of death, straight-up asking to be at the mercy of its claws.
“...Que?”
“Rub my belly! Come on! Pleaaase? Pretty-pretty please?”
Perrito, the tiny dog wormed his gut out of the sock-sweater he wore, staring beckoningly. Rolling around to give an extra-cute effect, the scar and gurgling noises coming from it weren’t helping at all.
“I’ve asked Puss- and-and Kitty, but they all refused- and like, I said to them that it’s PRACTICE for being a therapy dog-”
Death scoffed. “..La Muerte doesn’t need therapy.”
“But isn’t death.. sad?” Perrito beckoned.
“Do I look like I’m crying right now, perro?”
“No, no, let me explain!” the dog got back on his hind legs, pacing around Death almost like he orbited him, “Don’t you see people’s families grieve...”
“All the time. Listen, nino, it means they’ve lived a good life-”
“People being murdered..”
“Now, now, perro..”
“One day, you could just take one of us- Team Friendship-” -Perrito gestured, pawing at the air and jumping around- “when we haven’t lived to the fullest and just- SNATCH!- the life out of-” At that, Death interfered, using his paw to signal him to sit down.
“Okay.” He growled.
“Wh- what?” Perrito lit up. His pupils enlarged, tounge out- almost panting.
“Okay.” Death repeated. “I’ll rub your belly.”
“I know! I just wanted to hear you say it again! I’m so EXCITED!” Perrito barked, flipping himself over as if to get ready. Death flinched. Did he have worms or something? Alright, let’s get this over with. he thought, reaching his claw over to prod at Perrito’s gut as lightly as possible. No panting. No leg-kicking. No nothing that would indicate a dog in a state of pure ecstacy. Not that he would know, of course. There were, instead, tittering and slight giggles. Not the usual. Death stilled its spindle-like fingers, afraid to take someone he didn’t intend to away. Instead, Perrito whined in impatience.
“Keep going, keep going!” he beckoned. Death, resigned, did just that. In all his humiliation, he couldn’t admit he felt a warmth in his cold embrace. Speeding it up, he gently placed two more claws onto Perrito’s belly, scritch-scratching it in a circular motion. With that the giggling grew louder and louder, erupting into full-scale belly laughter.
“Kk-HA-hahaha-HA! Dehehe- DEATH! DEATH! Thaha- that tickles! Hahaha-HA!” Now there was that leg kicking. The puppy writhed around, shaking as if spilling the mirth he had inside out all over the place. Death scowled in response, as per the usual. Despite saying nothing, he kept on going while Perrito was attempting to keep still to no avail. He kept rolling around and kicking his leg like he was scratching invisible fleas.
“Keep still, perro.” Death broke his silence, leaving Perrito in that play-bow position he first laid in.The gentle scratches were practically about as effective as a sickle scar to the chest, and secretly he was relishing in it. Stifling a Cheshire cat grin, he moved his claws up and down, slyly yet slightly experimenting with different techniques.
“Ha-hahahaha-haha- HA! Yehe- YEAH, Deahath! Let ahall those emohohotions out!” The encouragement made Death feel like Perrito was almost egging him on. But the concept itself shrugged that inferior concept off, going in straight for the kill out of pure cuteness-aggression.
“Oh, yeah, I’ve got LOTS to work on.. And we’re just getting started, perro..” Death whispered in a strangely teasing and cooing tone, one he had never used in the past.
“Let’s sta-haha-hart with your- AHAHAHA-HAHA-AHAHANGER ISSUES!” With his long snout, he nuzzled Perrito’s stomach feverously, tickling him with the coldness of his nose and fluff of his muzzle. Even when he was close to the sharp teeth of death itself, Perrito laughed. He was laughing in the face of death, sparkling with life.
“Yes..?” Death smirked, halting his attack.
“Well- well, aha, you tend to let it all out on the people you take, and that includes Puss, and...” Perrito prattled, gesturing with his forelegs.
“And...” Death continued. “I’ll huff- and I’ll puff- and I’ll blow the house down!” He blew a raspberry- the best one he could do with his pointed snout.
“GK-HAHAHA-HAHA-HA!!” Perrito cackled, kicking both his hind legs frantically. Death halted, leaving the little dog a breather. “*pant* *pant* *pant* Ya know, Death, that was a workout! We should have another session sometime! Really work on telling me those feelings rather than whatever magic you were working over there with your nose- Hey, thanks for rubbing my belly, by the way! You look happier already!” he rambled at a breakneck pace, following Death’s trailing charcoal cloak. And he smiled. Smiled back. Not a “let’s never speak of this”, not a frown, not nothing. As a reverberating whistle whisked by, there was an echo of a sentence.
“You’re gonna be one hell of a therapy dog.”
#tickling#tickle community#tickle fic#t-word#tfb community#tickle#lee#tword#ler#it bugs me that my keyboard can't spanish
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Would you be into 1 or 34 for the drabble prompts with Catherine/Peter? I started the show and…I get it now. If you don’t feel like it, that’s ok too!! // @tickle-bugs
drabble prompts!! // this one was getting super long so i am literally gonna turn it into a full length fic, here's a sneak peek!!
"He's boring," Catherine tells Marial as she dresses into her bedclothes. "We have absolutely nothing in common. I am a woman of science, art, and philosophy. And he, well..."
"Is a man of food, fights, and fucking?" Marial replies.
"Exactly! He does not interest me. He is rather handsome, but he seems as though there's nothing beneath the surface."
Catherine sighs, flopping back against her mattress. Her marriage to Peter has gotten off to a rather rocky start, and that's putting it lightly. They've come to a sort of standstill, now, tolerating one another but not quite getting along.
"Men rarely have much lingering beneath the surface," Marial says. "I know you wished for a great love when you came here, but clearly Peter is...not that person. He could be a great person to kill, but not love."
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