#dragon age tickling

[august-anon]

Overtime

this fic has been done since january of 2022 and i have just been hoarding it sjdfh i have no excuses

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Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition

Ship(s): Dorian/Inquisitor Lavellan

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Lavellan/Ler!Dorian

Word Count: 1614 words

Summary: The life of the Inquisitor is a busy one, and Lavellan has a tendency to overwork himself thanks to that. Fortunately, he has Dorian there to help convince him otherwise -- even if the methods get a bit unorthodox.

[ao3 link]

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Lavellan rubbed at his eyes, leaning back in his chair. They were dry and tired, and the dim light wasn’t helping him any. The sun had set, likely some time ago now, but he hadn’t been paying attention. Now all he had to light his desk was a candle that was burning too low and the glow from the dying fireplace, barely doing anything to cut through the chill anymore.

Lavellan gasped as there was suddenly a warm body on his lap, and his eyes flew open. Dorian sat there, looking down at him with a smirk, one eyebrow raised. He rubbed his hands up and down Lavellan’s arms a few times, helping fight off the chill even more.

“Taking a nap?” Dorian asked, tilting his head to the side. “Because I can not imagine this old chair is so comfortable. Don’t come crying to me when you wake with a crick in your neck.”

As if to punctuate his point, he leaned forward and nipped at Lavellan’s neck. Lavellan blinked a few times, taking in his surroundings again. The candle had completely burnt out, the hot wax even having started to cool. The fire was roaring again, but that was likely Dorian’s doing from when he had entered. The man was rather sensitive to the cold.

He had fallen asleep. Fenedhis, he was more tired than he thought. 

“Sorry,” Lavellan murmured. “Didn’t mean to.”

Dorian hummed, leaning up to kiss him. His mustache was soft, tickling Lavellan’s upper lip. He brought his hand up to run it through Dorian’s hair and found it just as soft, none of Dorian’s styling products sticking to his fingers or face. He must have bathed before coming up here. Despite how badly he wanted to sink into Dorian, he pulled away from the kiss, tilting his head to the side to avoid being drawn in again.

“I just need to finish these reports,” he said, shifting under Dorian to coax him into standing. “I’ll come to bed soon.”

Dorian frowned, not rising from Lavellan’s lap. He glanced back at the piles of reports on Lavellan’s desk, outrageously tall, then turned back toward Lavellan, both his eyebrows raised.

“And you think you’re going to finish those tonight? I think not.” Dorian huffed, leaning into Lavellan’s front again. “Come to bed. The reports will be there in the morning.” 

Lavellan shook his head. “It’s fine, most of them only need my signature. I’ll be done before you know it.”

Dorian huffed. “Fine, have it your way. But I’ll have you know, I’m quite comfortable, so if you want to do work instead of going to sleep, you’ll have to do it with me sitting here.”

Lavellan rolled his eyes, but couldn’t stop the fond smile lifting at his lips. He allowed Dorian to slouch forward against him and get comfortable before reaching forward to finish his work, lit by the glow of the nearby fire. He pursed his lips when he felt Dorian’s lips start to press light kisses along his neck, but it wasn’t too distracting, so Lavellan didn’t bother telling him to stop.

That was, until Dorian’s ministrations became more intentional, mouthing gently at Lavellan’s neck, his mustache brushing at the skin with every kiss. Lavellan fought to keep his composure, glad that Dorian’s face was tucked away so that he couldn’t see the goofy smile slowly forcing its way across Lavellan’s face. He resisted every urge to shy away or shrug up his shoulders, hoping that Dorian would tire of this and stop soon.

The mustache didn’t normally bother him nearly so much, despite Dorian’s penchant for coming up behind him and kissing up the back of his neck. But normally, Dorian’s mustache was carefully styled, held in place with wax and whatever other products he used to help it keep its shape all day. The hairs were often so confined and coated, they didn’t usually brush up against his skin this way. It was starting to drive Lavellan mad.

He was able to keep his composure until Dorian started moving up, mouthing at and brushing his mustache up against the patches of skin just below and just behind Lavellan’s ear. Lavellan let out a small, choked-off squeak, his shoulder jumping a little in an aborted protective move. His face grew hot. Dorian chuckled against his skin.

“Always so sensitive,” he murmured.

The flush on Lavellan’s face grew. Of course Dorian would assume that Lavellan’s reaction had to do with his ears. Dorian has explored their sensitivity well enough by now, with fingers and lips and tongue, eager to draw out all the noises Lavellan could make from his ministrations. Lavellan didn’t even want to know what it would feel like to have those sensations mingling with the ticklish feeling currently radiating across his skin.

Okay, that was a lie. He did. Just not when it was so late at night, and not when he had so much work to do.

Lavellan cleared his throat, trying to force the wobble out of his voice. “Trying to distract me won’t make me finish this any faster, you know.”

“Oh, don’t mind me,” Dorian said against his skin, hot breath puffing and lips and mustache brushing.

Lavellan had to clench his fingers on the edge of his desk to keep control. It felt like his skin was slowly growing hypersensitive to the light touches, every small sensation sending ticklish sparks racing across his nerves.

Lavellan took a few steadying breaths, hoping Dorian didn’t notice despite how plastered together their bodies were, and tried to regain his focus. He did his best to ignore Dorian covering every inch of his neck in kisses, getting through all of three documents before a gasp was torn from his lips.

Dorian had nuzzled his face into the crook of Lavellan’s neck, humming and sighing as he tried to get comfortable. Lavellan tried to do his best impression of a turtle to force the maddening sensations away, but Dorian didn’t move an inch, thwarting all attempts.

“Dorian—!” Lavellan yelped, high pitched and silly.

Finally, mercifully, Dorian pulled away from his neck, giving him an incredulous look. “What is the matter with you?”

Neck freed, Lavellan brought both hands up to rub at the skin, trying to force the lingering ticklish feelings away. Dorian stared at him like he’d grown a second head. Lavellan dropped his head into his palms and groaned.

“It tickles,” he muttered. “So bad.”

Dorian laughed, prying Lavellan’s hands away from his face. “And why did I not know about this before?”

Lavellan huffed. “I figured you’d find out eventually.”

Dorian reached out and lightly traced a finger down Lavellan’s neck, grinning when he flinched away with a near-giggly whimper and a goofy smile. 

“How on earth did you keep it hidden all this time?”

Lavellan felt himself go red from his chest to the tips of his ears. Looking away, he grumbled, “It’s not usually like this.”

“Oh?”

Lavellan squirmed underneath Dorian. “It’s your—the mustache. It’s not styled.”

Dorian blinked at him, then burst into laughter. He laughed with his whole body, tossing his head back and leaning with it, to the point where Lavellan reached out to balance him so he wouldn’t topple backwards. Dorian quickly regained his composure, looking down at Lavellan with a menacing smirk.

“Oh, my dear, you’re in trouble now.”

Lavellan’s eyes went wide. “Dorian, wait—“

Dorian did not wait.

He leaned back into Lavellan’s neck before he could scrunch up in protection, mouthing deliberately at the crook of Lavellan’s neck where he had broken before. Now caught, there was little reason for Lavellan to fight to hide his reactions, and he let out a giggly squeal. Dorian nuzzled in close and huffed out a strong breath, and Lavellan had to stomp his feet on the ground as he laughed just to stand it.

“Adorable,” Dorian spoke against his neck. 

Dorian settled more heavily on his lap, limiting his movement and making it a lot harder to stomp his feet. He placed his hands on Lavellan’s shoulders, pushing them down and holding them there. Then, he took a deep breath and started blowing a series of raspberries up the column of Lavellan’s neck.

Lavellan shrieked, squirming what limited amount he could. “Please! Vhenan, please!”

Dorian chuckled. “Please what?” He nuzzled in just under Lavellan’s ear, making him cackle. “My dear, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so sensitive as you.”

Lavellan finally managed to bring his arms up between their bodies, pushing Dorian back a bit so he couldn’t read Lavellan’s neck. “I don’t think I am, normally?”

Dorian raised an eyebrow, raising wiggling fingers up to Lavellan’s neck before Lavellan caught them mid-air and pushed them back down, laughing and squirming at just the sight.

He averted his eyes, trying not to blush. “It got worse, the more you did it and I tried not to react.”

Dorian grinned. “I’ll have to keep that in mind then, won’t I?”

Lavellan scowled, though he didn’t mean it. “There will not be a repeat performance.”

“There will be right now, if you don’t come to bed.”

Lavellan pursed his lips. “Fine,” he grumbled. “But not because you threatened me! It would just be easier to finish this in the morning, when it’s light again.”

Dorian scoffed, rising from Lavellan’s lap and pulling him from the chair. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, amatus.”

Lavellan allowed Dorian to tug off his day clothes and drag him into bed, pulling him close to share their body heat. Dorian wasn’t built for the chill of the south, that was for certain. He tucked his face into Dorian’s neck as they drifted off, already plotting his revenge.

[abihasablog]

Dragon Age girlie's, which of the veilguard companions do we think is the most ticklish? Initial thoughts are Davrin, especially around his middle.

I will investigate.

[lelianaslefthand]

im not exaggerating when i say i've thought about this dialogue at least once a day since the veilguard trailer dropped

[chanafehs]

Vivienne’s line about “a leash can be pulled both ways” is actually so fascinating because it can not only be applied to its original context (Mages & Templars) but to the Inquisitor themselves - as many have discussed the Inquisitor loses their standing, their heritage, their identity to this weird Andrastian cult up in the mountains regardless of what they personally believe. They are the Herald of Andraste, the leader of this massive powerful religious military organization that has its hands in every holding in Thedas and yet the Inquisitor is controlled by everyone else. You are locked into centrist diplomacy, the game is playing you as much as you are playing it. You can make choices but all of the choices you make are guided and picked apart by everyone else, you lose your entire personhood to become someone that everyone around you has molded you into and you cannot escape. The dichotomy between Vivienne and Sera becomes even more interesting because on one hand, Sera keeps trying to humanize you and tear down the barrier between you and the average person (or followers of you), while Vivienne wants you to harness your position since it is all you can do because escape is not an option - harkening back to her experience as a circle mage. Dragon Age Inquisition fundamentally gives you a protagonist sitting in the most powerful position in Thedas and the only thing you cannot control is yourself.

[juneleaf]

dorian pavus and maevaris tilani are giving out free top surgeries at the lucerni

[witsserviceablesubstitute]

There's dialogue with Emmrich that implies part of a Watcher's job is to scare Southern grave robbers by installing minor shades in graveyards and I love that piece of worldbuilding so much.

The North knows the South is overly superstitious and the Mourn Watchers decided to weaponize that fact to lower crimes against the dead. But it also means every time I see a ghost in the other games I'll be wondering when it was placed there by a Watcher.

[marvelous-spirit]

The face of a man treasuring the chance to be wrong once again.

[wolfsong-the-bloody-beast]

Teia! Don't flirt with my... (confused crow noises)

[alongtidesoflight]

brb romancing solas for the very first time so i can see what all the fuss is about

[revvethasmythh]

i also do think it's funny, i very rarely get disapprovals at this point in the game but literally every time emmrich takes me somewhere to talk about death, i get disapproval from him and it's like. yeah this is what it's like having a conversation with a late-20s adrenaline junkie treasure hunter with no respect for the concept of death. luckily for me, his reactions to disagreeing with you are so diva and funny i don't even mind going for the rp choice of saying something off-color

[august-anon]

Let Your Hair Down

I finished this in December of 2021 and somehow never posted it lol

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Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins

Ship(s): PRE - Alistair/Warden (F)

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Warden/Ler!Alistair

Word Count: 2105 words

Summary: The group never took breaks, never lingered, never rested, never took a breath, always moving toward the next target. The only moment they slowed was in camp, and that was only with their bodies, not so much with their minds. Maybe they could all use some fun.

[ao3 link]

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The Warden shook some of the water from her hair with her hands, combing through it roughly with her fingers to get the worst tangles out before starting to pull it up into the style she usually wore it in. She flinched as a voice spoke behind her, despite the fact that she was normally far more aware of her surroundings than that.

“Don’t you ever leave your hair down?” Alistair asked.

Alistair did have a way of worming his way past her defenses.

“It’s more practical to wear up,” she replied, dropping her hands and letting her damp hair tumble down her back again. “Can’t exactly go around killing darkspawn with a curtain of hair in the way.”

He settled on the ground next to her where she had kneeled down by the fire, hoping for the heat to dry her hair faster. “Well, we aren’t killing darkspawn right now.” He tilted his head to the side. “Leliana wears her hair down to fight darkspawn.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Leliana’s hair is shorter, and she’s an archer. Why do you want me to wear my hair down so badly?”

He cleared his throat, looking away from her. It was hard to tell by only the firelight, but she swore he looked a little red. She smothered a grin.

“I just– think it would look nice, is all,” he stammered out. “A nice change. Everyone needs a change every once in a while. Not that I’m telling you to change–”

She couldn’t help it anymore. She tossed her head back with a laugh. “Don’t strain yourself.”

He pouted at her. She grinned and leaned toward him, watching his eyes go wide, before ducking her head and shaking it. Her hair was still decently wet, and Alistair flinched back with a yelp, raising his hand to shield his face.

“Why are you wet?” 

She rolled her eyes. “Because, Alistair. Some of us actually bathe.”

He put a hand over his heart. “Are you saying I smell? You know, I actually take offense to that.”

“Good,” she said. “Maybe it’ll actually get you to take a bath.”

“I do bathe!” Alistair said, reaching out to slide his hand up into the underside of her hair and shake it out. “You just… aren’t around when I go off to do that.”

She squeaked and jolted away from his hand, rolling her shoulders. She tried to save face and move right on, hoping Alistair wouldn’t mention it. “Really? When am I not around, Alistair.”

Unfortunately, Alistair was not fooled. “What was that?”

She rubbed the back of her neck, where the ghostly touch of his fingertips still lingered. “Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

Alistair grinned, leaning in a little. “Oh, come on, now. Aren’t we friends?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Something tells me you’ve already figured out what it was, and I will not subject myself to the embarrassment of telling you.”

He chuckled a little. “Come on, everyone’s at least a little ticklish. I bet even Sten is. There’s no reason to get so defensive about it.”

The Warden continued to glare at him, sliding slowly to the other side of the log.

“See, you look at me like that, but now I have the perfect tidbit of information to get you to smile.” He cocked his head at her. “Are you sure you don’t want to just give up now?”

She smirked at him. “Oh, Alistair. You should know by now. I never give up.”

She launched herself off the log, sprinting around the fire and toward the treeline. Her sudden movement unfortunately made their little tussle quite obvious to everyone else in camp, and she could feel their eyes on her. Glancing over her shoulder, the Warden saw Alistair close on her heels, fingers wiggling threateningly. 

Yeah, there was no way their friends hadn’t figured out exactly what was going on already. Except maybe Sten. Were Qunari even capable of being ticklish? She shook the thought out of her head. She needed to focus.

Apparently, she caught herself too late. She tripped over something – an outstretched leg, likely, they weren’t close enough to the trees for her to have tripped over any roots (based on Leliana’s bright laughter nearby, the Warden had an idea of who it might have been) – and crashed to the ground. She didn’t bother trying to scramble up, instead she rolled over and started crab-walking backwards, one hand raised protectively in front of her.

“Alistair,” she said, a warning note in her voice.

He grinned down at her, his hands still raised in threatening claws, though his eyes softened. “If you ask nicely, I might be persuaded to have mercy.”

The Warden’s mouth twisted. He was giving her an easy out. She was going to get tickled either way, that was for certain now after they put on this whole show in front of everyone, but he was offering up mercy. The question was, did she want it.

They were in the middle of the end of the world. The Warden hadn’t gotten a decent night of sleep since she’d left home with Duncan, and she doubted many of her companions were having a good time of it, either. They never took breaks, never lingered, never rested, never took a breath, always moving toward the next target. The only moment they slowed was in camp, and that was only with their bodies, not so much with their minds.

Maybe they could all use some fun. 

But only a little bit.

“You think I’m scared of you?” The Warden taunted. “You’re like a giant teddy bear. You think this is a threat?”

Alistair gave a low chuckle. “I’ll admit, I never had much time for practicing fun and games, what growing up in the Chantry and all, but you, my dear, should be very afraid.”

The Warden’s eyes widened as he lunged at her, and she tried to roll away. Alistair managed to catch her around the waist and pull her back, pinning her down to the grass underneath him. She tried to catch his hands and spared a moment to glance at his position, straddling her. She smirked.

“Maker, Alistair, buy a lady dinner first,” she said, and grinned when his face suddenly went bright red. He always made it too easy.

He started stammering excuses and apologies, and she managed to slip out from under him while he was busy being flustered. Despite all the teasing Morrigan dished out, Alistair wasn’t stupid, and he caught on to her plan the second she slipped out of his grip.

“Oh, you little minx,” Alistair called after her, and was chasing her again in an instant.

She wasn’t so quick, this time, too busy watching her feet and steering clear of their other companions to avoid falling again. Really, it was just to give her an excuse to be slower, to allow Alistair to catch up without being obvious about it. She was built to be quick and sneaky, he was built to stand strong and defend. If she didn’t give him the victory here, he may not have gotten it otherwise.

Alistair caught the Warden around the waist once more, tugging her back into his chest. She put up a struggle against his grip, and while she knew she could easily slip from it had she wanted to, she allowed him to wrap her tight in his arms, his fingertips resting just against the fleshy parts of her sides.

“Any last words?” He asked her.

The Warden made a show of giving a last few struggles against him. Then, she turned her head to glare up at him over her shoulder. “My revenge will be swift and unforgiving.”

Alistair just laughed at her, and then his fingers dug in and she was the one who was laughing. She started to fight his grip for real, then, but was just as unsuccessful as before, now that she was weakened from her laughter. She pushed back against his chest instead, as if that would in any way bring her further away from his fingers.

She could hear Zevran laugh nearby, closer to the fire. “My friend! How is it that none of us knew you were so ticklish?”

The Warden couldn’t move around much in Alistair’s grip, and she wasn’t going to waste the air she needed for her laughter on telling Zevran off. What she could do, however, was wrench one of her arms away from where she’d been trying to tug Alistair’s hands off of her and flip Zevran the bird. She heard him laugh once more.

Raising her arm turned out to be very much an incorrect choice, however, as Alistair immediately took the opening. His fingers dove into the newly exposed spot, wiggling and scratching away. The Warden shrieked and slammed her arm back down against her side, but it did nothing to protect her against the hand that was already there.

“Sorry,” Alistair said into her ear, “does that tickle?”

She squealed again and tried to twist her body out of his grip. She managed to get loose, and started to make another break for it, but Alistair was a lot more coordinated than her at the moment, considering he hadn’t just been the subject of a tickle attack. He grabbed her arm before she’d even taken two steps and pulled her back in, this time holding her so they were chest to chest. 

At first, she thought it was a blessing. After all, it at least protected her stomach and a few other spots, right? But then, his hands started randomly skittering up and down the Warden’s back and a gasp tore from her throat. She burst into childish giggles, squirming every which way with no idea on how to escape. She didn’t even know she was ticklish on her back, let alone to this degree.

Alistair hummed, and she could feel the vibration through his chest. “You seemed the type,” he said, quietly enough to be only for her ears. “I had a friend in templar training who was ticklish here.”

She shook her head and buried her face into his chest, trying to muffle the embarrassing giggles into his shirt. The Warden laughed. The Warden laughed and chuckled and scoffed and huffed, but the Warden did not giggle. She could feel her face growing warm with her embarrassment, desperately trying to reach behind her to stop his hands, but she couldn’t reach. She pushed forward against his chest to try and lean away from his devious fingers, but he had no give in front of her, and his fingers easily followed every arch and jerk of her back.

She wondered if the option of mercy was still on the table.

“Please,” she ground out between her hysterical giggles, digging her fingers desperately into his shirt. “Alistair!”

He chuckled, and she flinched away from his breath on her ear. Even that was too ticklish for her, now. “First,” he said, “you have admit to me that you wanted this.”

She jerked in his grip. “What?!”

“Just to me,” he hummed. “But you think I don’t know what you look like when you’re actually fighting back, after all this time together?”

Well now her blush wasn’t just from the embarrassing giggling. She gave it another bout of fighting first, trying to tear herself out of his arms, but her legs could barely hold her up anymore, they were so shaky from her laughter. There was no possible way she was going to break free from this, not without Alistair letting her go.

“Fine!” She hissed, trying to keep her words quiet and lost in her giggling so that the rest of their companions wouldn’t hear. “Fine, I let you catch me!”

“Why?”

“I thought it would be fun! Alistair, come on!”

He chuckled and stopped his tickling, holding her tight when she sagged against him. She gripped at one of his arms, glaring up at him in warning.

“And was it?” He asked.

She twisted her lips, trying to force the involuntary smile off of them. “Maybe.”

She pulled herself out of his grip, reached up to tug the tangles out of her hair once more. Alistair dropped his arm around her shoulders and led them back toward the fire.

“Leave it down tonight?” He asked.

The Warden pursed her lips. “Fine. But just for tonight!” She danced out of his grip to flick Zevran on the ear for his teasing. “And Alistair?”

“Yes?” He asked, drawing out the word.

“Sleep with one eye open.”

[fluffomatic]

And some Dragon Age tickles! I've been playing it again, AND DESPERATELY wanted to draw my babies! It's nothing special. Just wanna throw some more art at my blog :)

Dorian likes to suprise Vehiron by sneaking behind him then grabbing his sides, squeezing them while he peppers tickly kisses along his neck. Poor elf doesn't stand a chance!

(My art don't repost but please reblog)

[arcandoria]

I love that Emmrich says to Mourn Watch Rook that "A wisp will come when called by a Watcher" which might just mean the wisps in the Necropolis but I like to think wisps just really vibe with Mourn Watchers.

Which leads to Watcher Rook being perfectly capable of helping Neve with her wisp problem, but not doing it because they're cute

[sangfielle]

do you like her. do you think shes cute. do you think its cute how straight she is.

[fereldanwench]

suddenly remembering why i dont remember shit from trespasser

i just check out as soon as all the ancient elf god stuff comes up

i dont think im gonna retain any of this lmao

[ealyblu]

I just think they're neat