#g/t tickles

[kanene-yaaay]

*Shaking in a tune able to shatter glass * I am so normal about this scenario and characters So SO normal I am staring at it a very normal amount hugging my phone giggling kicking my legs

[lucideeznuts]

Dawg, people have been seeing fucking porn in their little sfw tags

So I made the term “tcfw”

Too

Crazy

For

Work

TCFW is a term used for someone making nonsexual stuff that is too fucking insane to think about showing their art to someone (like their parents for example [especially when they’re working])

[entomolog-t]

Autograph please?

I gotchu fam

[unbeleevable]

The most flustering thing is surprise tkls!!

Like when you're not paying attention and someone sneaks up behind you and scribbles your sides.

Trying to reach something high up and someone scratches your ribs/underarms!!!

[cozyandwarmm]

How genius to use a tooth brush as a tickle tool... :D

brunito >:3

BICHO ‼️‼️

of course his ler is leone (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠✧⁠*⁠。

[bunnys-lab]

hello my lovely mutual who sent me an ask about macro/micro stuff. since you meant to send that on anon i won’t post the ask itself buuuuuut i knowww. smiles so big and wide at you

anyway i dont have the brains in me to go into detail but some quicky bullet points of g/t stuff that gets me going

giant dom keeping their tiny sub in their underwear/shoe as they go throughout their day

pinning a tiny down and applying barely enough pressure that it starts to hurt them and make them panic…. 💖

giant making a tiny get off by dry humping on the finger shoved between their legs

being able to effortlessly pin a tiny and tickle them stupid without paying them any mind…like theyre just a fidget toy for their dom

tiny sending their giant through hell by getting in their clothes and tickling/otherwise touching and riling them up while they have to stay composed for one reason or another (in general the idea of a sub having to keep their composure and stifle their reactions is sooooo fucking hot to me but like. post for another day ahaha….)

GETTING TO USE AN ELECTRIC TOOTHBRUSH ON A TINY LIKE ITS A DAMN MEDIEVAL TORTURE DEVICE HELLO…

humiliating a giant sub by taunting them with how easily they could exert control over the situation and yet…

…….dont look at this one but feeding a tiny sub/or getting them wasted on a teaspoonful of alcohol like oml

ummmmmmmm 😇 hello well if you want to talk abt some of these or some of your own thoughts…im always here… hiiiii

[reborrowing]

borrower!Jude with little mermaid syndrome, overly fascinated by human everything, constantly popping in on a human!Hollow with an intense fear of rodents that can’t seem to get rid of the little freak but also can’t bring herself to resort to violence because, well, it talks

[cozyandwarmm]

yess!! we need more !giant lers and !tiny lees!

I am in SUCH a lee mood right now??????? ough

so im putting my persona THROUGH IT

enjoy yhe doodles, excuse the bad handwriting,

(click for better quality)

[sunsetsandsunshine]

My favorite fanfic that you wrote Is "Leadership" It's One of the fanfics that got me into the ROTTMNT community 💖💖💖✨✨✨🫶🫶🫶🫶

WHAAAAA WHA WHA WHA WAAAAAIT WAIT WAIT!!!!!!!!!

HUH?????????????????

My legit first fanfic of Rise…the one that is as long as all the Drake allegations…is one of the fics thaT GOT YOU INTO RISE IN THE FIRST PLACE⁉️⁉️⁉️

[neonthewrite]

Grey Landing (Part 10)

I have finished another GT July(2023) prompt! This time the prompt was "Memory". I don't remember what I had originally planned for this prompt when I started the challenge, but when I started planning it Isaac kept coming up. So we have more of Isaac's misadventures.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9)

~~~

The food, simple but hearty, felt heavy and strange in Isaac’s hands, like he held edible gold. He wasted no more time tucking in to an unorthodox meal, tearing bites off the large crumbs of bread and cheese and trying not to picture the disapproval he’d get from his mum for it. She’d taught him manners for how to be a guest in someone else’s house. She’d given up trying to get him to use them at sea.

Considering his predicament, trapped in a giant bowl on a giant counter in a giant bloody house, Isaac considered himself still adrift. So he ate like a sailor. His body sang with relief.

It forced him to think about when he last ate. He cast his mind back to a morning that felt normal, a coffee and breakfast before heading out with a bundle to be his lunch while he was out on the waves working for their next supper. That hadn’t been this morning. Had it been the day before? If he’d known a storm would break his ship and send him so far adrift, he’d have been more discerning with that precious bundle of rations, maybe the last lunch ever packed for him. Hell, he might have said something more to the people he passed on his way to the dock.

They probably all thought he’d been taken by the waves.

As with most things that might lead to heavy thoughts, Isaac pondered the memory only long enough to know he ought to shut it away again. A moment’s reprieve didn’t mean he had the time to break down just yet. Beyond the walls of his improvised jail cell, three giants sat at their dinner table, talking little but every casual word boomed.

He thought he’d finish up the offered food in his desperate hunger, but eventually the scale of things caught up to him. He pondered what remained of what he’d been given and wondered if they’d even be able to tell he had anything. His core was heavy and full, but he’d hardly made a dent. He set the ridiculous portions beside him and considered climbing out of the bowl before abruptly lying back with a huff. 

His eyes closed in spite of himself. He didn’t plan to sleep, but he would make himself as comfortable as he could. The giants could take their time as far as he was concerned‒

“Long we’ve tossed on the rolling main, now we’re safe ashore, Jack!

Don’t forget your old shipmate, faldee raldee raldee raldee rye-eye-o!”

He’s on a ship, a chorus of voices calling up as a hundred hands or more toil away. It’s all familiar. A grinning face, pale and mischievous, angles his way as the lyrics of their shanty always come back to the name.

“Long we’ve tossed on the rolling main, now we’re safe ashore, ‘Zac!”

While everyone else sings ‘Jack’, the nicest voice on board sings to Isaac alone and he knows he can belong‒

A jab to his side broke Isaac out of the unexpected dream. He flailed away from the offending feeling, a hazy memory of someone he might never see again clinging to his thoughts. A confused noise escaped him as he caught up to what had poked him.

A giant fingertip, large and callused and probably strong enough to crush his ribs by itself, lingered nearby. The attached hand loomed close in the bowl with him, with an equally giant arm extending overhead. Isaac’s brow furrowed as he stared up, again confronted with the scale of these giants. Clei stood over him, looking almost worried.

“Am not dead yet, lad,” Isaac told him. “Restin’ my eyes and slackin’ off, is all.”

Clei huffed and muttered in that language of theirs. “Crur cayg.” Apparently that was his warning, because that hand descended on him despite his noise of alarm. Once again Isaac found himself all too easily gathered up in a single hand, a fist curled around his middle and restricting his movements. He grimaced as vertigo gripped him just as securely when Clei lifted him out of the bowl and turned away from the counter at the same time.

The room whirled past him, barely-familiar shapes passing in and out of notice in the fast movements of a giant who didn’t seem to notice Isaac turning green. Thankfully they didn’t have that far to go, at least as far as Clei was concerned. A few steps later, Isaac found himself back on the giant table, scrambling to his feet after Clei set him down prone. The dishes from dinner were set aside along with the centerpiece, so Isaac found himself fully on the spot with giants looming and staring from three sides.

Clei still looked sheepish. Gufnad still looked annoyed. Trydi had her lips pursed in something like exasperation. Isaac, deciding not to let the silence draw out too long, held out his arms. “Am I on trial, then, my gracious hosts?”

Gufnad bristled, a lot like Isaac expected him to. He had a memory of more than one disciplinary hearing from his navy days, when just existing rankled an officer or two. Gufnad followed that pattern all too well.

Before the man could bark some indignant thing at him, though, Trydi shot him a look. “Gufnad. Dlad.” And then she sent Isaac a similar look, one that cowed some of his contrarian attitude despite himself. “Kaimu. Dlad.” She said more, quick syllables falling over each other and leaving Isaac in the dust, unable to pick up words in her rhythmic accent any better than he could before, though he realized partway through her question what their language reminded him of.

Isaac sighed. Some of the annoyance left his shoulders, but he still gestured vaguely at her. “I don’t understand you, lass. I don’t speak … Big Welsh. I don’t even speak normal Welsh. And for that, am sorry. We won’t get anywhere talking at each other like this, hmm?”

Clei finally chimed in, with the attitude of someone not used to speaking up to the others. He stammered a bit, and though Isaac tried to follow, he only heard one familiar sound among the rush: the giant used his name, once or twice, and Isaac had to hope he was vouching for him the best he could.

When Clei finally tapered off, Isaac watched him for a beat, then looked to the other two expectantly. “Only good stories, I hope,” he said, again only to prevent an awkward silence.

Gufnad’s frown didn’t waver. “Trydi, crur bid wal nei̯fitblei̯nd.” Isaac narrowed his eyes. He recognized the word that Gufnad had called him before, and he could only assume it was some kind of insult. Neigh-vit-blind yourself, you stubborn bastard.

Trydi winced faintly and glanced between Gufnad and Clei, and occasionally even Isaac. As head of the household, apparently the tie breaking vote fell to her. Isaac didn’t get a vote at all, not that that surprised him either. All he could do was stand there in the middle of a giant table and hope the outcome favored him.

Finally, she sighed and tilted her head towards Clei. “Bid tars. Clei, yulubus grag. Gaog, wif gwut hust.”

Isaac still didn’t understand them, but the grin that broke over Clei’s nervous face and the resigned eyeroll from Gufnad told him enough. He sighed; two giants on his side wasn’t bad at all, and having the lady of the house giving him any measure of a chance was worth a lot. His shoulders unwound some tension and he once again held his hands together in front of himself, nodding at her. “Trydi. Thank you.”

She didn’t smile at him, not exactly, but her lips twitched in bemusement. “Rayfn, kaimu.”

~~~

@not-a-space-alien

@amenarae

@starskichild

[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

[kanene-yaaay]

OH GOSH!!! LIVY! I THINK THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE FICS EVER!!! Goshly gooooosh!!! You describe every scenario, every tickle and tease and comfort and caring touch sooooooo well!!!! I was basically melting while reading this and I can assure you that I will be reading and re reading it plenty times more!!

Dwindling Creativity

Thomas groaned, putting his head in his hands. He’d been brainstorming and writing and editing and erasing and rewriting and researching and writing again.

“I feel like I’ve used up all the creativity I have,” Thomas grumbled, shoving aside his laptop.

This pause, reluctant as it was, was instigated by Janus. Patton took over from there, leading Thomas to flop on the couch with reruns of the Office to give his mind a chance to rest.

- - -

Roman did not stop working when Thomas did. This was Important to Thomas, and Roman had to get it right.

Thomas’s statement about using up his creativity was very nearly correct. As they had worked, Roman had dwindled away gradually, until now the quill he was holding was nearly as tall as he was. He had to hold it in a two-handed grip, kneeling on the parchment and balancing the unwieldy feather against his shoulder. At least he had a magic quill that didn’t run out of ink, so he didn’t have to keep getting up and down to re-dip it.

He ignored the click as the door to his room opened, but moments later the quill was snatched out of his grasp.

“Hey! Give that back, you- you ruffian!”

Deceit raised an eyebrow. “Ruffian? I would’ve expected a more… creative insult.”

Roman glared at him, more tired and grumpy than truly angry. “Well—! Well…” his mind went blank.

Deceit let him flounder for a retort, twirling the quill in his gloved fingers.

All at once, his inability to come up with a properly applicable insult, a good rhyme, even a solid sentence, slammed into Roman. He crumpled onto the desk. “Just leave me alone, I’m useless.”

Deceit sat down in Roman’s chair. Roman wasn’t looking at him, and was surprised to be lifted by the back of his shirt. He let out a squeak, then decided he was too tired to flail or protest, and merely went limp.

“Useless?” Deceit drawled, his voice dripping with something like sympathy. Knowing him though, it could well be anything, or nothing. “My dear prince, you and I both know that’s far from the truth.”

He draped Roman over his other hand, resting on the table. Roman was laying on his stomach, across Deceit’s palm, his arms flopped over his pointer finger.

“I am useless.” Roman asserted. “I can’t even make a song. I’m supposed to be great at songs!”

Deceit stroked the feather over Roman’s back, the smooth, gentle pressure a pleasant sensation. “Or perhaps, you’re holding yourself to too high a standard considering the circumstances.”

Roman’s muscles loosened further as the feather continued stroking over his shirt. “It’s for Thomas’s mother’s birthday, if I can’t make something perfect for this, when else could it matter?”

“I’m sure you will make something perfect,” Deceit replied. “But it may take more time. Time which we have, the birthday is in three weeks.”

Roman dropped his head onto Deceit’s glove. It was cool, rather than warm as he might have expected a hand to be. The feather traced patterns over his shirt, almost like a back rub, melting away his protests.

“You need rest now. Distraction, to get your mind off of the song and give you time to return to your full strength.”

As Deceit said the word Distraction, the edge of the feather brushed over a small strip on skin on Roman’s side, where his shirt had ridden up. Tingles spread from that spot, making him shiver. It felt nice, nearly tickly.

Roman shifted to dispel the tingles, inconspicuously doing so in a way that made his shirt ride up slightly higher.

For a few moments, Deceit must not have noticed, still stroking the feather over his shirt, but then the tip of the feather was drawn across his lower back, crossing from his shirt to his bare skin. Roman muffled a small giggle, enjoying as tingly sensations ran over him again.

Deceit was saying something else, but Roman was becoming lost in the moment, relishing the soft, gentle strokes and the occasional sparks of tickles.

At some point, he had relaxed so thoroughly as to forget he was hiding his giggles, and let one fully slip out.

“Oh, so I have a ticklish little prince?” Deceit said fondly, smiling down at him with a glint in his eyes.

Roman’s first impulse was to protest, especially as Deceit was sure to grow condescendingly teasing, but his enjoyment of his situation battled that impulse, leaving him speechless and blushing.

His internal battle was interrupted by the feather slipping up the back of his shirt, wiggling over his whole back. Roman fell into giggles, kicking his feet gently. The stiff quill feather wasn’t the most effective tool for causing tickles at his current size, but his embarrassment had made him more sensitive than usual.

“Awwww,” Deceit cooed. “Enjoying yourself?”

Roman didn’t respond other than to blush a bit pinker, though he made no move to block the feather.

Deceit twirled the feather. The strange sensation of the spinning feather under his shirt startled a laugh out of Roman.

“It seems I’ve found quite a good distraction, haven’t I?” Deceit said smugly. “Take all your thoughts away and leave only giggles~”

Roman rolled over, trapping the feather underneath his back as he giggled. Deceit easily pulled it free and teased it over Roman’s front. Here his shirt was better covering him, but the feather coming at him, fluttering at his sides or his stomach or neck, and constantly changing spots had him caught in giggles. He batted at the feather playfully when it came within reach of his hands. Indeed, all his previous difficult thoughts had fled.

“A happy little darling,” Deceit murmured, his voice overwhelmingly fond.

Roman was sure his face was still pink, but he was losing the embarrassment, caught up in the fun and the non-judgemental affection. He shucked his shirt off, clicking his fingers to change the quill in Deceit’s hand to a longer feather with droopy, dangly vanes.

Deceit shook the feather over Roman, the little tips flickering over his skin. Roman curled up into a giggly ball, rolling back and forth in Deceit’s hand. So many little tickly points all over him. It was like being out in a summer rain, if every drop left tingles in its wake.

Roman soaked in the attention, the sensations, the love. His body filled with warmth and joy, releasing the excess with every laugh. His giggles were infectious, and Deceit chuckled at the adorable sight in his hand.

When Roman got breathless, he grabbed at the trailing ends of the feather to stop them. Deceit obligingly switched tactics to long slow strokes of the feather up and down over Roman. It was hardly tickly at all, returning to a relaxing massage-like experience, but Roman couldn’t seem to fully stop the remaining giggles.

Slowly, gradually, he melted into Deceit’s palm. After such a height of joy, tiredness draped over him like a blanket. His eyes slipped closed, and the giggles came further and further apart.

Roman didn’t notice the ever so gradual shift of the feather into a miniature fringed blanket. He barely noticed when it stopped moving and instead tucked around him. And by the time Deceit gently transferred him into his bed he was sound asleep.

[trooly-ticklish]

Do not perceive me please 😵‍💫

[westerntails]

Cheering up a giant: A Gullivers travels tickle. by cowstar on @DeviantArt

Put Gulliver in the tickle community 💖

[kenziedrawz]

Rui's trained worldlink card is so tiny coded, prove me wrong i dare you