spacetickles

[spacetickles]

yeah i’m calling myself out

[spacetickles]

and what if I wrote a little old man cherik tickling.

[spacetickles]

The brain rot is real. I really just think 'Yeah, and after I do chores I can go have a lie down! And get tickles. Oh wait!'

[spacetickles]

Falin's solution to Thistle's grumpiness

[spacetickles]

Strung in Her Web

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Characters: Annabelle Cane, Statement Giver OC

Word Count: 1965

Content Warnings: CNC tickling, bondage, arachnophobia (no spiders directly involved, but they are mentioned and Annabelle has spider-like features), implied NSFW

Summary: Statement of Marjorie Winters, regarding a... A really weird first date. F/F, monster bondage + tickling. enjoy :)

Statement of Marjorie Winters, regarding a... A really weird first date. Let's just call it that. Statement given July 21st, 2014. Audio recording by Marjorie Winters, per my request. Statement begins.

Look, I'm sorry. I know this isn't how you usually do things. But... When I got an ad for your Institute last night, I knew I had to tell my story. I'm not really articulate in writing, though, and I don't think I could tell this to another person with a straight face. So I'll just do the tape myself. Hopefully I've done all the formatting correctly. Anyways, I suppose I should begin.

I'm a database administrator. It's not exactly a glamorous career, but it lets me live in London without going bankrupt so I suppose I'm happy with it. You've got to understand though, it's an incredibly demanding job. You have to stay on top of everything to make sure it's running smoothly 24/7, which means weird schedules and constantly scrambling to fix outages. At least I get the choice of working from home most days, which gives me room to at least half enjoy my hobbies.

On the flip side, it means I don't really get out much to meet new people. I've always been introverted, so making the effort to trek to a bar or club has never been worth it for me. IT also happens to be a boys' club for the most part, and the couple of fellow trans girls that I do know live overseas, which is a problem when you prefer women. So you can understand with the pressures of having to keep everything under control and my lonely lifestyle, I needed something to cut loose for once.

I never really trusted dating apps, but it wasn't like I had much choice. It was that or go out and try to mingle in person. I ended up creating a pretty decent profile, with a few cute pictures of myself, my job and a list of my hobbies. I actually managed to get quite a few hits - some from male chasers, which I mean, that does happen, but most from women who seemed to be genuinely interested in me.

I didn't swipe right on most of them even then, as I was somewhat picky about people in general, but there was one woman who caught my eye. Her stark white hair complemented her beautiful dark eyes and eccentric outfit so perfectly, along with that elegant spiderweb dyed into her undercut. I was almost magnetized to her from the start. So I swiped right, and it turns out she'd already matched me. I was giddy from excitement, my hands almost shaking when I dropped her a line. My flirting was... Beyond awkward, let's say, but she took it in stride and seemed to find it rather charming. In the end, she dropped the location of a cafe and invited me to meet her there around mid-afternoon. Of course, I accepted.

You know, it's odd. I don't seem to remember learning that much about her. I know her name was Annabelle Cane. She was just as gorgeous in person as she was online, wearing a beautiful vintage tweed suit with a maroon shirt underneath. It turned out we both liked black and white movies and thrift shopping. She said she was a huge fashion enthusiast, being really fond of needlecraft and weaving in particular. She liked a bunch of cool bands I never heard of, and eagerly listened to me ramble on about my job and my life, never once taking those piercing dark eyes off me, like she was studying my every move to see what she should do next.

When she brought up that she played piano, I decided to be a little bolder than I was. I took her hand, and said I figured - she had the most elegant hands. At this, she broke into a wide smile. For a moment, I saw something strange behind the corners of her mouth - like something *retracted*. But I blinked, and it was gone. She stood up, and said her flat was just a 10 minute walk away from here if I wanted to see just how skilled they were. I couldn't believe my luck. So obviously I followed her, up to a modest little flat decorated in dark wine, purple and green hues, styled effortlessly just like the rest of her was.

She poured me a glass of red, and told me not to be so nervous. That she was going to take care of me. Now, she was 5 years younger than me, and a couple of inches shorter, but the way she spoke made me feel like I was down on my knees for her already. I hastily downed the glass, and before I knew it, I was in her bedroom. She pushed me down onto the bed, kissing me with a hunger I hadn't experienced in years. Her deft hands made quick work of my outer layers, leaving me just in my camisole and skirt, stroking and pinching me in ways that had me sighing desperately for her before anything had even happened.

Eventually, she pulled away with a wicked grin, and asked me if I wanted to do something a little more special. Before I could ask what she meant, she grabbed several lengths of silk rope from a nearby drawer. I'd written that I had a fair amount of experience with kink in my profile from my college days, and I was always down to experiment, so I hastily nodded. I lay down on the bed prone, with my arms raised above my head, waiting for her patiently and eagerly.

She started with my body, her hands working quickly to create an intricate pattern that I only recognized as a web when she was finished. It was as mesmerizing as it was complex, and the tightness of it underneath my chest, around my hips and my thighs made me ache for her touch even more. Her work continued with my arms and legs, securing them to each of the four corners of the bed. I could hardly move by the time she was done. My heart pounded in my throat like a caged bird battering itself against the gilded wire as she told me to close my eyes, whispering the safeword in my ear before leaving imprints of her teeth in the cartilage.

The stroking started off slow, sensual. By that time I gathered she liked being in control, and I relished in it. I could tell she was having fun by her pleased little hums whenever I squirmed too much, digging her nails in slightly more wherever I was particularly sensitive. She pulled light giggles and soft, delighted moans out of me, mapping out every inch of my body with her hands. Even when she intensified the pace, making me buck and squirm and laugh properly with her clever touches, I couldn't help but melt into her touch. Her nails caressed my chest, up along my inner arms, circling my stomach and the grooves of my hips, dancing along my inner thighs... I was in heaven.

In fact, I was so caught up in how good it felt to let go that I didn't even notice that something was definitely amiss. I mean, I did notice, but not consciously. Trying to cut through all of those mixed nerve signals was almost impossible in my state. It didn't click for me until I felt a fourth hand tracing the curves of my neck until I realized what the problem was. My eyes snapped open, expecting to see a second person she'd brought along without warning me. But that wasn't what I saw.

Kneeling on the bed in front of me was Annabelle Cane. It wasn't the woman I saw before, though. Her eyes... Oh god, you don't understand. She had so many eyes. Protruding from her lips were a set of vicious looking mouthparts, clicking and chittering with excitement. And where I once saw two perfectly normal arms, she had four more, their languid movements unnatural. Inhuman.

Believe me, I tried to scream, with all my might I tried. But the moment I did, it turned into cacophonous laughter when every one of those six, swaying arms descended on my prone body. And I realized I never knew what true helplessness felt like until that moment.

One set plunged its thumbs into the pockets of my hips, kneading there mercilessly. Another raked its neatly manicured fingers from my ribs to my underarms, scraping those hollows with what felt more like stiff bristles than nails. I was almost reminded of the bristles on a tarantula's leg. One of my exes was a real exotics nut, and he'd often try to convince me how cute and fuzzy they were, holding his prized pets up to me with a wide grin. But all I could see were those beady little eyes, watching me like they were plotting my every move - the same eyes that were now staring down at me with utter glee.

The last set wrapped around my knees, squeezing the caps and skittering its fingers along the underside. Occasionally, they roamed to my tight calves, the tender underside of my thighs. And all I could do was laugh. Do you understand? I couldn't - I couldn't move an inch. If this was normal bondage, I would have at least been able to squirm - she certainly gave me plenty of room to, but I couldn't. It was like I was hypnotized under some horrible spell, like a fly caught in her web, forced to endure the barrage of unbearable tickling torture.

So I laughed. And I wept. Once I got over the shock of it, I even remembered that she'd given me a safe word. But I didn't say it. Because I think the worst part of it was, I didn't really hate it. I mean, yes, I was begging for mercy, begging to do anything for it to stop, and I was petrified with fear like I'd never been in my life. But I just... I couldn't help myself, I guess. The rush that came with losing all that control, terrifying as it may have been. And she was gorgeous, and such a skilled domme...

When it finally, mercifully ended after what felt like forever, I was a wreck. My hair was plastered against my forehead, I was sweating like crazy. My body couldn't stop... Trembling. That was all the movement she allowed. All she did, leaning in close with those clicking mandibles and those dark, beady eyes sprouting from her forehead and her cheeks, was whisper a single word to me in a low, husky voice:

And I answered.

"Safeword?"

"Chelicerae."

"Good girl."

She leaned in for a kiss, and it was... God. Intoxicating would be the best word for it. At some point, she bit my lip, and I started to feel... Fuzzy. Sensitive, helpless. When she finally drew back, that was when I saw what she really was. Each of her arms a chitinous, segmented leg with those bristly little hairs all over that scratched and tickled like cruel little brushes. But it didn't matter at that point. I was all hers.

Statement ends. 

I'll spare you the rest of the details. For my sake, and for yours. I think you know what happens next, and this statement is... Hardly appropriate for your archives at this point, I think. But I had to get it out there. Had to save whatever poor soul runs into her next. She's scheduled a second date with me at some contemporary art exhibit. I think I'm going to go. After all... I just can't help myself.

[spacetickles]

Nothing is more satisfying than someone thinking that "feathers don't actually work that well" and then being HUMBLED by feathers in the right place with the right technique

[spacetickles]

i can’t stop thinking about cuddling with someone really fucking ticklish and just playfully pinching their waist while i tease the shit out of them by whispering right into their ear and seeing how much i can make them squirm into me

[spacetickles]

Monsters tickling again ~

[spacetickles]

hi idk how long ago you posted the stories and such of Michael but I 100% appreciate Michael As Friendo au because he is the best and he does kind of care about them and I will not be taking comments to the contrary lol

also ler!Michael is my new favorite thing I've ever thought about like come on he is SO predisposed he's just a michevous chaotic neutral thing that likes to have a good time

Hi!

it was quite a bit ago, but not because I've moved on and moreso because life got in the way, but yes absolutely! I love AU that Michael just, gets his old archive job back, personally I like to call it the "Jon is a competent archivist" AU because its not like Michael was ever really fired, and with how disorganized the archives are, I doubt he was ever taken off payroll either.

so the idea that the minute Jon recognizes the name Michael Shelly, he hands Michael a stack of files to sort and sets him up in the archives with his old job.

Sasha is of course ecstatic because she has even more time to interrogate Michael and eventually they become good friends, which translates to it becoming good friends with Tim and Martin as well, and eventually Jon. Michael likes to pretend he's still a question mark of loyalties, but I'm a complete sashamichael stan, and lord above knows if anyone has the throat of delusion itself wrapped around her little finger its Sasha James, so there's really no actual question where Michaels loyalties lie.

I could go on about how I think that would change the main storyline, but the main ideas are: Jon is a lot more confident and more no-nonsense about proper archives procedure, Tim and Sasha never die, probably becoming avatars of a similar caliber to Martin, small and sharing their domain between the eye and another domain (personal hc, desolation and spiral respectively) , as well as Michael never turns into Helen and instead the archive crew has to deal with two mischievous doorway monsters.

and of course, Michael becomes resident archives tickle monster. because seriously, y'all have heard the fucker? MADE to be a tickle monster! destined for it! hell the spiral itself probably covers tickle torture as a fear, because what's more disorienting than that! (lots of things, but let me have this)

the fic I assume your referencing was a companion piece with a few other from here on tumblr, but mostly on the TMA tickle discord I'm in with a few friends.

[spacetickles]

Legs are as ticklish as all the “popular” ticklish spots

If not more.

And I don’t mean feet, no. I mean legs themselves - knees, thighs, that weak spot on the back of the knees and then legs’ calves and below. Have you ever had someone’s fingertips softly traced from the back of your thighs all the way down to your heels? omg some of y’all don’t even know how sensitive those spots can be. 

Reblog if you find it relatable and win some attention for them ticklish leg spots tehee

[spacetickles]

your blog is +18 but how old are you?

hey anon, as my blog description reads "I'm 18+... this blog is SFW".

To be more specific I'm in my 20s and that's about as much as I'm willing to share online. Asking people unprompted personal questions is generally not guaranteed an answer on the internet/nm.

[spacetickles]

Selfishness vs Tickling

A brief essay by yours truly because I noticed this today and think we should talk about it more lol

Do you guys ever have that moment where you’re not sure if you want to be tickled, or if you just want to be teased, with tickling coming as an added bonus?

Because while I definitely want to get tickled and think about it probably too much for my own good I feel like that’s only half the equation. Because sometimes the mood will be really bad, and I’m just sat there suffering, and in the course of the conversation I’m having someone will tease me for something, or just turn their full attention on me, or notice something that I do and make fun of it (in like, a banter friend way), and a part of that mood is satiated. 

Which I think is because when you get tickled by someone, their attention has to be entirely focused on you. They are specifically zeroing in on your reactions, and more specifically, how to prompt those reactions, causing them to experiment and spend time with it—or in other words, time spent focused on you. So often in life, we go through entire conversations with people without really thinking about what that person is saying. Sure, you’ll pay attention to the words that are coming out of their mouth, but not to them, specifically. 

It is rare to have one interaction where someone is truly there with you in the moment. That’s why eye contact is so intimate; being truly seen by someone is terrifying and vulnerable all at once, and we tend to avoid it at all costs for the fear of rejection that it brings with it. 

But when someone tickles you, for a brief moment you become just two people who are almost forced to be honed in on each other if the tickling is going to have any effect at all. Which is why, while it’s not always intimate in a romantic sense, it is intimate in a personal sense. The only people you’ll usually find yourself casually tickled by are family members, significant others, and very close friends; these are the people closest to you, who you can trust to see that side of yourself. Even if you yourself don’t enjoy the act of tickling, it would still feel better coming from a friend than from a stranger or acquaintance, because they have built up that relationship to get to that level of closeness. 

So for me, half of the appeal of tickling is getting to, for even a moment, tether someone’s attention to myself, and get to bask in how nice that feels. When people make fun of me (again, in a lighthearted way, though honestly, even in a mean way I’m not that opposed to it, but that’s probably a me thing to be further dissected later by a therapist or something lol), it makes me feel like they’re truly seeing me, which is where that embarrassed fluttery feeling comes from. 

That’s probably why anticipation and interrogation are so appealing, because in each scenario the person is carefully watching your reactions, trying to pick through a shield that you’ve put up to get to the truth of who you are in that moment. 

This also adds into why so many of us are embarrassed to ask to get tickled, a request that, albeit slightly strange to most people, shouldn’t be that big of an issue. Because we, according to what our society rules, are not supposed to encourage any attention to ourself, and if we do, we are viewed as “selfish” or “conceited”. Getting the attention, strangely enough, is not the issue, but rather enjoying it once you have it and purposefully going out of your way to seek it out. 

To ask someone to tickle you is to ask someone to momentarily stop what they’re doing to focus on you, and give you something that (from your perspective) only benefits you. And due to the nature of tickling, it’s difficult to simply take it even when it’s given, so then there’s the added guilt of asking for it to stop, or trying to squirm away, despite having requested it in the first place. It’s all fine and dandy to complain about it on tumblr, or throw out yearning posts about tickling, but the second someone actually interacts with it, we feel obligated to protest and shy away from it. It’s in the same way that when content is posted, purely to be seen by an audience of people, we tend to downgrade ourselves upon receiving any compliments on it, or else we seem stuck-up. 

Now admittedly, many times that protesting can add into the fun of tickling, but I don’t think it should be a pre-requisite for the act. If someone in the community even starts to lean into the idea that they enjoy this attention, and unabashedly accept it when it’s given, they often get labeled as “clingy” or “needy”, something I’ve seen happen to a variety of people on this site—unfairly at that. 

We all desire attention, no matter how much we try to insist otherwise, so we should all be able to empathize with this want, and encourage it even. And yet, most of us are unable to do so, or even to accept it in ourselves, and so this continuous cycle of repression is perpetuated, and the majority of us are left, once again, unsatisfied. 

There is probably an entire second essay that I could write on the ler’s issues with these concept, but that feels like it’s own subject and this is getting unnecessarily long anyway, so I’m just gonna leave it at that~

[spacetickles]

oh no way you still enjoy TMA??? I pull up your content for it all the time to appreciate it again! I still reread the tickle fic you wrote for it like a year ago haha. Good to see you, loved the new art! Would love to see more :]

Hi! Yeah I still like tma! I’ve been really busy lately but I wanna get back into this blog it’s fun to make content for it, I just don’t have a lot of time these days.

Also, absolutely made my day hearing you reread/look at my tma stuff! I’m glad you like it!

[spacetickles]

Sequel to this

The archive crew finally gets their revenge on the archives resident tickle monster

[spacetickles]

are minors okay to interact/follow?

Hey, I am a sfw blog, but I caution, I am an adult, and as such things will most certainly be pg-13 here, personally I don’t block minors for following, but I highly recommend that minors recognize that you (the general you not you specifically anon) are responsible for your internet experience. I will tag my posts accordingly, but I’m not your parent, and I will not curate my posts to be suitable to minors specifically.

This is a kink space. non sexual or not, as a minor you have to realize that that means it’s an inherently adult space.

Please do not try and make friends with adults on the internet you do not know, especially not in kink/adult spaces

TLDR, I will not block minors from following, but please be responsible and respectful on the internet.

[spacetickles]

holy shit you're alive! welcome back! It's been a hot minute since we've seen you :D hope things have been going good

Hey!! I’m alive! I’ve been super busy! School, had a surgery, lots of stuff! I’m hoping I’ll actually be able to get back into using this blog again. I miss drawing here

[spacetickles]

New icon!!