#hilda tickles

[mysteriouslee]

just finished Hilda Season 3

lee!hilda ler!johanna ler!trylla

Overtime, Johanna and Trylla managed to make peace of what happened in regards with the changeling swap. They both sat for tea attempting to hold a conversation with their language barriers, Hilda was normally there to translate. Wait where is Hilda? Where is Baba?

"It's quiet, too quite" said Johanna standing up and putting down her tea.

Trylla wearily looked around for them, normally when Hilda disappeared, it was a bad thing. Suddenly they heard a thud. The two mothers than to the sound to find their two children roughhousing. It first started with Baba playfully shoving Hilda and as most siblings end up doing they began play wrestling. Hilda had Baba down and the two were giggling uncontrollably at the silliness of their situation. "Where did all this energy come from" pondered Johanna.

"Ever since Trylla gave me this lollipop, I feel like I could beat up a tiger" Hilda went on proudly.

Johanna side eyed Trylla for an explanation. Eventually after some struggle, Johanna learned that humans may act differently with certain Troll foods and in this case, Hilda had a huge sugar rush and had enough energy to run a mill.

Hilda and Baba came to a stop in their scuffle and hugged.

"We stayed a bit too late, so I'm wondering if we could stay the night" asked.

Johanna looked towards Hilda who translated that Trylla agreed.Trylla just put down Baba to sleep and now it was Hilda to be tucked in, but the girl was being a bit stubborn.

"Hilda, its time to sleep" said the brunette fairy.

"But Mum, I'm not tired at all"whined the blue haired teen.

"You're acting like a baby" stated Trylla, just then a light bulb popped up.

"If you're gonna act like a baby, I'll treat you like one" Trylla declared with a smirk and hands shaped like a claw. Johanna didn't quite get the memo until she saw the clawing motion and so did Hilda who tried to get away but was immediately picked up like a small cat.

Before Hilda could protest her hands we placed above her head,large stone fingers carefully tickled her ribs and her mum's hands tickling her sides and stomach prompting the blue haired fairy to squeal and her laughter echoes amongst the cave. The two mothers' plan was to tickle all the energy out of Hilda. Trylla's fingers trailed up to Hilda's armpits and Johanna went under Hilda's shirt to scribbled her nails on her daughter's stomach. Hilda threw her head back and dissolved into cackles and snorts.

"Tickle, tickle, tickle" Johanna cooed.

"NOHO TEAHAHSING"Hilda managed to get out in her fit of laughter

Johanna knew that it would take a while to tire out Hilda so she decided to speed up the process by blowing raspberries into her daughter's quivering tummy. Hilda weakly tried to tug her arms away but it was no use, she was stuck their laughing and honestly she didn't mind it too much, but she was running out of breath.

"STAHAHAAHAP"shrieked Hilda, who got what she wished for. Hilda was picked up and placed in her sleeping bag.

"Alright Hild-" Johanna was interrupted by the sound of small snores, indicating Hilda was asleep.

"Good Night Hilda's" Johanna whispered softly as she put a kiss on her child's forehead.

[airborneice]

since luke said that timtum only ever says his own name, i choose to believe tontu just somehow understands him perfectly to the confusion of everyone else

[fuwahua]

Chase

Tktober Day 2 - Chase

Tags: Sylvain / Felix from FE3H , Seemingly unrequited love, crush, white clouds period, sylvain exploding (affectionate)

Sylvix per request ヽ(o＾▽＾o)ノ Back to the academy!!

“Felix says you’re avoiding him.”

“Me? Avoiding him? Well well, how the turn tables!”

Dimitri stares at him, brows knitted partly in concern for Sylvain’s mental state and partly because no doubt Felix was somewhere in the vicinity, probably prowling the garden in anticipation of Sylvain admitting that he was avoiding the other. Which he wouldn’t admit, by the way. Because he had nothing to admit! He wasn’t avoiding the other!!

…. Not for the most part, anyway.

“To be honest, I’m not entirely sure you’re avoiding him either. Professor sat you both down to eat twice this week already,” Dimitri says, and Sylvain bites back a laugh at the petulant tone he takes on at the mention of Byleth. “You were clearly captivated by her but it’s certainly not out of place from you.”

“Hey, what’s wrong with dinner and a show? Besides, I see how you look at her. Can’t blame me for trying!”

Dimitri flushes. “I-I would never!”

“Listen, between you and me, I heard they’re getting a shipment of her favorite teas in. I could tell you which ones to pick out if you want.” Dimitri’s eyes widen, zoning into his every word, and Sylvain grins as he spins an at least partly true story of Byleth’s preferences.

Felix doesn’t come up for the rest of their conversation.

-

“Felix says you’re avoiding him.”

“Me? Why, I’d never!”

Ingrid scowls at him, lips jutting out the way she’d never grown out of since childhood. Sylvain chuckles, crossing his arms languidly behind his head. “How could I avoid him? We only take class together every single day.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Ingrid says. “I saw you both eating with Professor Byleth in the cafeteria last week. You were speaking with her the entire time, even though Felix was right besides you. Isn’t that a form of avoidance?”

“What? Did that happen?” Sylvain coughs, scratching his head. “He probably just wasn’t saying much. Can’t blame a guy for talking to someone who actually replies. And, hey, don’t you spend the entire mealtime scarfing down your food instead of conversing with your partner?”

“That’s—it’s not related!”

“I dunno,” he whistles. “That’s not what Dorothea said last time~”

“Dorothea? What did Dorothea say? Sylvain? Sylvain!”

-

“You’re on weed duty with Felix this week.”

“Wha—professor, really?”

Sylvain groans, cupping his face in his hands. It’s not unusual for Byleth to assign them odd and ends chores every week, sometimes keeping them the same no matter the weather (Ingrid practically lives in the stables with Marianne, through heat wave and snow. He really should drop by with snacks one day). But weed pulling? The thing Dimitri used to get assigned to before she caught him putting it in his mouth??

“I’m not fit for weed pulling, it doesn’t fit my,” he hesitates, mind whirring. “Skillset. I’d be a better help with the horses, you know. Why not swap me and Ingrid for once?”

Byleth gives him a slow blink. Her eyes look dead inside, but they kind of always looked like that. “Felix says you’re avoiding him.”

He groans a second time. Of course. “He told you that?”

“No.”

“No?”

“I heard it from Claude.” Claude? Entirely different house Claude? Byleth nods. “Who heard it from Hilda, who heard it from Marianne, who heard it from Ingrid, who heard it from Dedue, who heard it from Dimitri, who heard it from—”

“Felix,” Sylvain manages. He doesn’t groan a third time, though it is a near thing. “Felix told him.”

“Yes.” Byleth tips her head, staring at him. Or into his soul. Whichever. “If you already knew that, why haven’t you spoken to him yet?”

Sylvain doesn’t answer, eyes darting away. He knows that red will show on his cheeks regardless, yet dense as Felix is, Byleth is denser, and neither of them would even begin to comprehend what it could possibly mean when the childhood friend who flirts with you an entire lifetime suddenly starts stuttering through conversations like a fool half the time and avoiding you the rest. A mystery! Truly, an unsolvable, closed room case!!

“You could put a question in the advice box if you’d rather ask anonymously.”

“Professor, you write all our names on your answers. That’s not anonymous.”

“It’s more effective that way. Students work better when their advice is direct.” She smiles, raising a hand before she turns. “I’ll see you and Felix at the garden on Sunday.”

Her coat covers absolutely everything as she walks away. He stares at her figure regardless, cupping a hand over his mouth.

Fuck.

-

Felix is there at the crack of dawn, already hunched over the weeds and pulling them with the force of eighteen years of repressed rage. It’s almost impressive how efficiently he works through the grass as a noble: sure, he tears a little more grass than weed sometimes, but the green staining his gloves and the half-full buckle is proof of his hard work. The grass crunches beneath Sylvain’s feet as he enters.

Felix looks up and Sylvain bites down on the urge to flee.

“Good morning,” he says instead. Felix stares at him a moment longer, gaze lingering.

Beautiful. Wispy strands of hair stick to Felix’s cheek where sweat has begun to bead after a morning of hard work, cheeks pink with exertion and making clear the elegant edges of high cheekbones. He looks like a model, not a man hunched over a schoolyard, but fuck if those cat eyes drinking him in aren’t some of the prettiest he’s ever seen. Maybe the prettiest. At least top five. Top three?

“Good morning.” He doesn’t stare at Felix’s lips. He doesn’t. he doesn’t, he doesn’t. Maybe if he chants it enough times, the smudge of pink across those lips will fade from his memory.

It doesn’t.

Sylvain manages a smile, opening his mouth as Felix turns back to the garden, hands already returning to work. Well! That’s fine, then. Better than running his mouth and embarrassing himself even more than he’d already had for the week.

Weed pulling is, despite his complaints, not the worst chore to be assigned at Garreg Mach. It’s almost calming, a mindless chore of pulling and pulling, and he’s sure that on any other day, any other occasion, he’d be thankful for the still, calm quiet of an early Sunday. Hell, he’d probably still enjoy it today if Byleth was here! Or literally anyone else!

He pulls a little too hard on a weed and dirt goes flying, spraying his neatly pressed pants with it. Sylvain exhales and bites his lip rather than complaining the way he would if he were alone; Felix shifts besides him, eyes still down on the garden, but the angle is perfect, the shine of his hair is inviting, glossy, and Sylvain just wants to—

His hand stretches outwards just as Felix turns. And instead of navy strands of hair meeting his fingers, Sylvain finds his palm cupping Felix’s cheek instead.

His pink cheek. His warm cheek. Warm with exercise, warm with blood pumping through his body to keep him alive, warm with, maybe, the realization that they’re alone together at a time when no one else is awake.

Oh, goddess. He can’t do this.

“I-I need to go.”

Grass rustles as he jolts to his feet, unsteady, fight or flight screaming in his mind. Sylvain barely manages a backstep before Felix is up with him, bucket of collected weeds banging as it spills his morning’s hardship all over the floor. He gapes at him, eyes widening, as golden eyes fixate on him. Felix’s hands clench. Unclench. His pulse rises. Sylvain swallows.

He runs.

Felix runs right after him.

His scream is very dignified. “What are you doing? You have weeds to pick!”

“What are you doing!” Felix yells back. Their footsteps echo through the empty halls, louder than they have any right to be, and a painting of the goddess looks disapprovingly upon them when Sylvain nearly bangs his shoulder on a sharp turn. There’s a clang of metal behind him, closer than it has any right to be, and he shouts when a left turn sends him stumbling into the nearby wall. His head rings, dazed, before it’s slammed forward a second time when Felix’s body barrels right behind him and sending them sprawling on the floor.

Felix, on him. Sylvain sweats, already trying to turn back, but Felix’s hands grab his wrists and press down. “Wait—wait!”

“What’s with you?” Felix snarls. Sylvain gasps as his wrists are wrenched downwards, Felix’s weight on his back sending every alarm in his head screaming. He’s warm, goddess, fuck, he’s so warm. “Are you insane? Running through the Academy like a criminal?”

“M-maybe I like to be chased!” He sputters. His cheeks are burning. There’s nothing around him but the ground and Felix, and fuck, Felix is all he can think about.

“As if,” Felix says, scathing. “Tell that to the women who want you to leave them alone. Why is it that when they want to see you, you’re always gone?”

“That’s, you know, the thrill of the chase!” Sylvain gasps as Felix pins his hands down with his knees instead, flat palms encircling his waist; the whine that startles out of him is shameless. “Wahahaait, hold on, that ticklehehes!”

Felix blinks and then those fingers move now, spidering, and Sylvain shrieks. “Good.”

He says something between “No!” or “Felix, listen!” he thinks, maybe, but any and all coherent thoughts racing in his mind are drowned out by the urge to throw his head back in giggles as Felix’s hands dig roughly into the curve of his hips. He does exactly that, eyes squeezing shut yet unable to block out the electric currents running beneath his skin.

Sylvain’s fist hits the hard floor before he tries rolling out from under Felix’s grasp, squeaking and curling up when doing so just lets rough fingers slide between the uniform shirt. It feels impossible for his face to grow hotter but it does, burning, every sensation amplified by his yearning embarrassment. “Fehehehlix! Stahahahp!”

“Why should I?”

What does he say? What can he say? That the touch is already too much, that he might be going insane if this continues, that it doesn’t really matter if Felix’s hands are above the belt when his minds been flip-flopping about them in this exact position the past two weeks?

“I—cohohome on! I cahaHAHAN’T think likehehe this!”

Felix doesn’t offer him a verbal response, opting instead to pry his shirt higher and claw at the exposed skin. If the very thought of it is overwhelming, then the actual thing might well destroy the fragile thread of sanity still left in his head; Sylvain thrashes, attempting to rise to his elbows, to kick out his legs, but all his struggling does is have his shirt fall more open, a wide expanse of weakness open for the taking. Felix does, hands crawling upwards, rough, harsh, tracing every clenched muscle and earning choked out pleas and the very scrambled mess Sylvain’s brain is melting into.

“Plehehahahase!”

 “Stop moving.” Felix hisses in his ear, which absolutely does not help.

“HAHAHAHOW?!”

There’s a snort, genuinely amused, and Sylvain’s certain he’s red from the tops of his ears down to his shoulders at the noise. “Figure it out yourself.”

Goddess, have mercy.

The echo of his begging in the hall is horribly embarrassing, but worse than that is the shrieky hiccupping bouts of laughter he takes on when Felix’s hands make their way beneath his arms. He hasn’t been tickled in years, not since they were kids, but he’d always, always had the height advantage back then against Felix; no one besides Glenn knew how badly it tickled there, and he honestly thought he might’ve been able to take that information with him to the grave if not for the way Felix focused on his armpits now, relentless, and Sylvain shakes with renewed desperation as tears begin to bead in his eyes.

“FEHEHEHELIX! I’M GONNAHAHAA DIEHEHEHEHE!”

“Huh. You’re actually really ticklish.”

No shit. Felix shifts on him and Sylvain swallows as he’s reminded yet again of their position, of Felix right on him, thighs clamped around his hips. It’s too easy for his mind to spin back, a swaying pendulum vying to either melt into the floor to escape the tickling or lay there if it meant Felix would continue to touch him.

Touching him. Right. It’s Felix’s hands on him. Felix’s hands that are digging in all over him.

He’s going to explode.

“Oh, good morning.”

“Wha—Professor!”

Sylvain wheezes as he’s shoved away, hastily taking the opportunity to curl up and hide his crimson face as Byleth and Felix’s voices wash over him. What time must it be, for Byleth to be coming down this route? No doubt half the student population woke up to his screeching laughter—at least his reputation was bad enough he could get away with it. Sylvain rubs at his face, teeth clicking in embarrassment at the ticklish tears that have begun to fall, only to flinch at a poke to his side. “H-hey!”

“Pay attention.” Felix’s usual scowl has slid neatly back in place as he jabs Sylvain’s side again. His eyes flicker up to Sylvain, widening for a moment at the no doubt mess of his red, wet cheeks, before darting away again.

He isn’t the only one to notice. “Sylvain, are you crying?”

He shakes his head at Byleth’s question. “I’m fine, professor. Just, uh, got my ass handed to me.”

She quirks a brow. “Pretty early for an ass beating.”

He laughs at that, startled; his amused gaze flickers to Felix before his laugh takes on a flustered element when Felix meets his gaze openly, golden eyes searching his. “I—er, yeah? Right, Felix?”

Felix coughs, gaze dropping first. “It was deserved.”

“Hm. Well, I’m glad you’ve talked it out. Or beat it out,” Byleth pauses. “But I’m just here to check on the chores.”

The chores? Oh, the chores.

“Did you finish cleaning the weeds?”

“Ahaha…. About that… it’s a long story…?”

“Seteth should be at the lawn right now,” she hums, tapping her chin before amusement sparkles in her eyes. Sylvain swallows. “Knowing him… I’ll see you both after class for detention today?”

Both. Him and Felix, probably alone, with professor. He turns to Felix, mouth agape, but the other turns away the moment their eyes meet. It’s enough, though, for Sylvain to see the pink of his ears, the twitching of his cheek, the way his hands cross over his chin.

The hands that were under his shirt just minutes ago.

Aw fuck.

“We’ll be there, professor.”

He really needs to learn how to melt into the floor.

[valentines-luna]

Hii!

I'm new to tumblr and my name is valentina/luna!! My pronouns are she/they/he/moth and i speak spanish and english

Fandoms I'm in:

Trolls

Toh

Amphibia

Gravity Falls

Hilda

Helluva Boss

Hazbin Hotel

Murder Drones

TADC

Ducktales

Genshin Impact

Ramshackle

Wuthering Waves (just started playing)

-------------

Interact list:

Sfw tkl community

Artists

Lgbtq

In the same fandoms

----------------------

Dni list

Hom0ph0bic

R@cists

Transph0bic

Over 30

N$FW blogs

Ableist

-------------

okk byee

[mysteriouslee]

FRILDA

Tickle Fic Idea: Work Days

Imagine the lee comes home utterly exhausted but continues to work despite the pleas of the ler to actually rest. After a bit of bickering Ler essentially says “fuck it.” And immediately scoops the lee and explains that they’re going to head in for work. The lee is confused momentarily before it finally sets in that they’re gonna get wrecked. •To start the ler “clocks in” by squeezing the lee’s most ticklish spot. •“Counts documents” by counting the amount of ribs the lee has. (If the lee squirms too much the let starts over.) •Has a “lunch break” by making obnoxious nomming noises against the lee’s stomach. •And anything else the ler can come up with on the spot. “I swear this computer isn’t working..”

“OHOHOKAY! IHIHI GEHEHET IHIHIHIT!”

“I’ll have to reset it.” The lee than proceeds to lean down and blow raspberries against the lees belly despite its pleas.

“NOHOHOHO-! IHIHIT TIHIHICKLES!”

“That’s much better! Now I can get my work done finally.” But after all of that the lee is completely exhausted (but giddy and a bit thankful) from all the tickles and they essentially cuddle together and fall asleep.

BOOM! (If you use this idea tag me I would love to read.)

[sireditsalot4]

A cry for help

Summary: After witch hunters attack you, you find your way into the Spellman family.

Relationships: Zelda Spellman x Fem!Reader

You don't know how long you've been running but you know you've gotten far from your attackers. "You're a witch! Witches should be burned!" The male hunter takes a swipe at you with his knife, and you duck out of the way. The female attacker joined and pretty soon both hunters have you cornered against a tree. You only had a second to think or it's all over-

without thinking, you kicked the guy in the family jewels. Bending over in pain, holding himself he yelled out loudly. "You stupid bitch! We'll find you. You won't get far!"

That must've been hours ago now.

You hug yourself trying to warm up from the cold but to no use. The sounds of wolves howling fill the woods and you jump, tears stain your cheeks. You know your mascara is smeared and look a hot mess. Laughing to yourself, you spot a good looking area to hang out for tonight and run to it. Making a hole not too deep in the ground, you gather little wood shards and place them in and rub your fingers together, “Incendio.” You say. The wood shards alight with fire and you let out a sigh of relief immediately putting your cold fingers over the fire. Over time the fire grew and your heart slowed. Fatigue and exhaustion taking over.

Tickle tickle.

You go to brush off the leaf that’s on your face and go back to sleep but immediately feel it again.

“What the-” you fully open your eyes and see a man there with his finger close to you.

“What the fuck! Who are you?” You start to back up.

“Wait-wait-hi! My name is Ambrose, I’m not going to hurt you,” Ambrose looks you over and you see sympathy in his eyes. “come with me. I’ll take you somewhere safe, away from them.”

Them? There is another question at hand.

“If you’re wondering, I am too a witch. Everyone is.” Ambrose gets closer and you flinch. He assures you he won’t hurt you and you let him grab you and bring you close to him. The both of you reach a road and across you see a giant mansion with what seems to have a cemetery. I’m going to die for sure.

“We’re almost there. You’re doing fine.” Making it to the house, he guides you up the stairs and grabs his keys from his pocket. Opening the door he lets you in and take a look around the giant house. “This is huge,” you look at the wallpaper and art on the walls and can tell an elderly woman lives here. Maybe a grandmother. “Thank you, my aunts have an eye don’t they?” Ambrose goes over to the stairs that open up into two. “Aunties! Sabrina!” You jump from his shouting and try to regain yourself. “Shit.”

Footsteps come from upstairs and seconds you see two older women, you assume to be the aunts and a young girl, maybe the girlfriend come down. “Aunts, Sabrina this is…what’s your name again?”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N, and she needs our help. She was attacked yesterday by witch hunters-”

“Oh! You poor thing. Are you okay?” The shorter woman came from behind the taller one and grabs your hands keeping eye contact. “Do you have family around here?” You shake your head. “She can stay here for as long as she needs,” You look at the older woman and was mesmerized. Her ginger hair was curled over her shoulders and the outfit she was wearing, a green blouse tucked inside a black ankle length skirt had you in a gaze.

“Oh shoot- we didn’t tell you our names! I’m Sabrina, his cousin, and these are our aunts. Aunt Zelda and aunt Hilda.” Hilda waved joyfully and Zelda gave you a pleasing look. You nervously wave.

“You poor thing. Come-let me show you to your room.”

[thatonecatcat]

OKAY CAN I JUST..

HILDA COMBAT VOICELINES LOL FML

under the cut as usual (spoilers for hilda)

Elemental skill

Hilda launches herself back and spawns a small fairy mound, dealing AoE damage to nearby enemies for a short period of time before disappearing.

“Booo!”

“To the mist!”

“Take them away!”

Elemental Burst

Hilda takes to the sky, bringing down roots to the ground dealing AoE dmg.

“Airborne!”

“Away with you!”

“Hey-Ho!”

Sprint Start

“One, two, one..”

Sprint End

“Whoo!”

Deploying Wind Glider

“To the skies~”

Opening Treasure Chest

“Ehh— It’s okay.”

“They look nice, I guess.”

“Thats cool, thats funky, thats..”

Low HP

“Not now!”

“No, no, no..”

“Breathe in, breathe out..”

Ally At Low HP

“Wait— Hide behind there!”

“I can’t lose you too.”

Fallen

“Breathe..”

“Got.. too.. weak..”

“They lied to me..”

Light Hit Taken

“Ouch!”

“Haha— That tickles!”

“I’ll fix it up later!”

Heavy Hit Taken

“Im off my game..”

“Yikes!”

“Inhale, exhale, inhale..”

Joining Party

“What’s the occasion?”

“Okay, so I’ve got snacks, extra clothes, medical kit..”

“We can rest before we go.”

Receiving gifts

“You’re good at this! Could you teach me sometime?”

“Wow, how long have you been cooking, exactly?”

“…Thank you?”

[giggly-squiggily]

Headcanons To Dabbles Masterlist (D-G)

Here are all the dabbles from the Headcanons to Dabble Event from D-F! :D (Previous Masterlist was too big- had to break it up)

Full Masterlist

Last updated: 7/4/24

Danganronpa

Do The Thing? (Lee!Maki, Ler!Kaede)

Check-In! (Lee!Taka, Lers!Mondo, Leon, Chihiro)

Cheer Up, Kiyo! (Lee!Korekiyo, Ler!Gonta)

Company (Lee!Shuichi, Ler!Kokichi)

Foot Rest (Lee!Yasuhiro, Ler!Mondo)

Nails (Korekiyo x Reader)

Sibling Check (Switches!Ibuki, Hajime)

Sweet Talk (Nagito x Reader)

Death Note

Self Preservation (Lee!L, Ler!Light)

Demon Slayer

Air Tickles (Lee!Akaza, Ler!Hantengu Clones)

All Ears (Lee!Douma, Ler!Akaza)

Bed Time (Douma x Reader)

Challenge Accepted (Lee!Douma, Ler!Kokushibou)

Crybaby (Lee!Douma, Ler!Kokushibou)

Cupid (Lee!Sanemi, Ler!Tengen)

Douma's Army (Lee!Daki, Gyutaro, Kaigaku, Ler!Gyokko)

Drummer Boy and The Pesky Spider (Lee!Kyogai, Ler!Rui)

Eye Contact (Lee!Tengen, Ler!Sanemi)

Elevator (Lee!Kokushibou, Ler!Douma)

Eyes On Me (Lee!Koku, Ler!Douma)

Feathered Touch (Lee!Giyu, Ler!Crow)

Fluster (Lee!Douma, Ler!Kokushibou)

First Aid (Lee!Tanjiro, Ler!Genya)

Five Seconds (Lee!Akaza, Ler!Douma)

Frustration Cure (Lee!Tanjiro, Lers!Rengoku, Mitsuri)

Future Sightings (Lee!Kokushibou, Ler!Douma)

Gone In The Wind (Lee!Gyomei, Ler!Sanemi)

Heat Of The Moment (Lee!Douma, Ler!Akaza)

Keen Sense Of Hearing (Lee!Tanjiro, Inosuke, Ler!Zenitsu)

Lavender Fly (Lee!Giyu, Ler!Shinobu)

Little hands, my only weakness (Switches!Gyomei, Nezuko)

The Look (Lee!Douma, Ler!Kokushibou)

Medicine (Lee!Gyomei, Ler!Shinobu)

Mending (Lee!Genya, Ler!Sanemi)

Messed With The Wrong Demon (Lee!Douma, Ler!Koku)

Mirrored Memories (Lee!Muichiro, Lers!Kagaya, Amane) 

Mirror (Lee!Nezuko, Ler!Tengen)

Munch (Lee!Gyomei, Ler!Reader)

Off Button (Lee!Akaza, Lers!Daki, Gyutaro)

Ribs (Lee!Gyutaro, Ler!Rui)

Run (Lee!Rui, Ler!Douma)

Sit With Me (Lee!Gyomei, Ler!Kagaya)

Smile (Lee!Giyu, Ler!Sanemi)

Snowflakes (Lee!Douma, Ler!Akaza)

Spell It For Me (Lee!Sanemi, Ler!Tengen)

Stripes (Lee!Akaza, Ler!Douma)

Taisho Era Tickle Monster (Switch!Tanjiro, Lees!Zenitsu, Nezuko)

(Tickle) Fight Me! (Lee!Inosuke, Ler!Tanjiiro)

Team Work Makes The Dream Work (Lee!Tengen, Lers!Sanemi, Giyu)

Teenage Dream (Muichiro x Reader) 

Thick Skin (Lee!Douma, Lers!Daki, Rui)

Tickle Yourself (Lee!Aizetsu, Ler!Urogi)

Unexpected (Switches!Sabito, Giyu) 

Unshakable (Lee!Kokushibou, Ler!Douma) 

What I Like About You (Lee!Douma, Ler!Kokushibou)

Who’s Better? (Lees!Sanemi, Muichiro, Lers!Tengen, Rengoku)

Dr Stone

Chair Sized (Lee!Ryusui, Ler!Tsukasa) 

Ballet (Lee!Gen, Ler!Senku)

Dad Mode (Lee!Senku, Ler!Byakuya)

Flower Language (Lee!Gen, Ler!Senku)

Heartbeat (Ukyo x Romantic!Reader) 

I Smell A Storm (Lee!Tsukasa, Ler!Ryusui)

Returning Hug (Lee!Ryusui, Ler!Tsukasa)

Talk to me (Lee!Gen, Ler!Senku) 

Traitor (Lee!Ryusui, Ler!Tsukasa)

Fire Emblem

Retainer's Contribution (Lee!Sylvain, Lers!Dimitri, Dedue)

Splitting Sides (Lee!Claude, Ler!Hilda)

Fire Force

Begone, Devil! (Lee!Shinra, Ler!Arthur)

Free! Iwatobi Swim Club

Ants (Lee!Ikuya, Ler!Natsuya) 

Foot Rest (Lee!Rin, Ler!Sousuke)

Liar Liar (Lee!Rin, Ler!Sousuke)

Jog Your Memory (Lee!Rin, Ler!Nagisa)

Resting Bitch Face (Lee!Haru, Ler!Makoto) 

Temper Tantrum (Lee!Rin, Ler!Nitori)

Fruits Basket

Rival (Lee!Nao, Ler!Yuki)

[betweenthetimeandsound]

“Everyone is a monster to someone. Since you are so convinced that I am yours, I will be it.” 

--prompt from @demawrites

"And what do you make of me, young lady? Like how your husband sees us?" Iris analyzed Adele and her fragile form, her countenance teetering between pity, disgust, and inquisitiveness. Adele's hands trembled, with only a few scars and the two rings on her left hand distinguishing her from the other noblewomen of Hilda's court. And even then, Iris only noted the way Adele's fingers danced in the air.

"Is there anything else that I know? Forgive me; it seemed like your kind is dangerous to us," Adele replied, struggling to maintain her voice in front of the sorceress.

"Magic could save lives, as you, of all people, should know."

At that moment, Adele crooked her neck up; its scars radiating against the little light which came out of the cracks. Her collarbone was barely visible from underneath her skin, a sharp contrast to how they protruded a couple of years before. The warmth of her skin contrasted with the coolness which surrounded her; something burned which would've incinerated her a while ago.

"But how would you know? People like you would only bring harm--"

Iris didn't wait another second before flipping her hand and watching Adele's head contort; her eyes rolling onto the back of her head. A twinge of sympathy tickled her gaze, but not before she flung her hand back to her waist, and Adele held her head to keep herself from losing consciousness. A sudden darkness covered her head, as if a storm arrived once again for all its sorrows.

"How do you feel?" Iris murmured to the shaken shell of a women. When Adele's face lifted up to the sorceress' once again, only a glimmer of light remained, keeping her tethered to the mortal world.

[mysteriouslee]

watching Hilda for the first time.

lee!Frida ler!Hilda

Frida continuously pondered around her room, anxiety raised through the roof. Hilda sat on the bed and listened to Frida's nervous rambling and watch her cross her arms and make a dent in the floor from circling around it. Frida wouldn't exactly tell her what's wrong but she felt her presence needed.Hilda put her hand on Frida's shoulder.

"Frida, it's ok" Hilda attempted at reassurance.

"No, I failed, my parents will see me for a failure" ranted Frida

"But, Frida your parents are insane, trust me when I say that nothing will ever make you a failure, at least in my eyes and plus their expectations are out of wack anyways" reaponded Hilda.

Hilda hoped she said the right thing.

"I got a 98" said Frida with shame in her eyes. Frida let out a deep sigh and looked towards Hilda who motioned for her sit beside her. Frida flopped beside her blue haired friend and leaned into her shoulder. Hilda wrapped her arms around her friend. Though being with Hilda is quite nerve wracking for the most part, it seemed her nerves were suddenly calm. They sat in silence for a while, finding solace in each other's presence. They both eventually nodded off to sleep.

Hilda's eyes blinked open, the sky's hue was darker shade of blue that wrapped itself around the room.Hilda found her arm trapped in Frida's embrace.

"Frida, I gotta go home" Hilda stated but Frida wouldnt budge.

"Five more minutes"Frida mumbled half asleep.

"Frida my mum is probably worried" Hilda exspressed but Hilda only received a grumble in return.

"Hey come on now" Hilda coerced as she poked the girl beside her earning a little giggle from her.Hilda grew an evil grin.

"Alright then 5 more minutes" Hilda said with mischeif written all over her face.

Frida was at peace until she felt fingers spider her lower rib. "Hee hehe, Hildaha" giggled Frida who started to squirm away.

"Where are you going, you said five minutes remember?"slyly questioned the primary colours clad girl. Hilda lightly dug her fingers on the skin of Frida's neck and Frida yelped and dissovled into loud laughter.

"Shhh, you'll wake your parents" scolded Hilda as if she wasn't tickling Frida, especially on one of her weak spots.

"STAHAP *snort* HAHAHA" Frida attempted to plead but squealed when Hilda's hands found her armpits.

Suddenly they both heard a door outside of Frida's open. They awakened Frida's parents.

"Fiddlesticks" they both whispered.

[oliverdeend]

Introduction!

I’m Oliver and I’m a 19 year old hobby artist from Germany ☺️

This is my first time being active active on here, soo.. I’m still new to this 🫶🏻

I’m autistic and I may have spelling mistakes because I’m dyslexic and I’m not a native English speaker (please don’t be mean if I write something wrong🥲🙏🏻)

This is a tickle blog and I thought I’ll post the stuff i usually post on instagram here too! (Most of them have bad quality because I deleted the original pictures, but from now on I’ll make sure they’re in good quality😅)

I think it’s also important to mention that I don’t do commissions or anything because I’m a very slow drawer who takes lots of monthly breaks 😵‍💫 (but you can always ask/ DM me and I’m always reading asks/ DM’s ☺️ and if you’re lucky I might just draw you something if life isn’t too consuming and you’re not a demanding jerk entitled to my time)

(Help on how to do things/ run a blog and things I can do better is appreciated🙏🏻🩷)

Fandom list under the cut! (I finally know how to do a cut! Wooh!!)

DC villains and Heroes

Tabaluga

Marvel (x-men too)

Slashers Movies

Disney Villains (maybe heroes too depending on who)

Adventure Time

Transformers (hopefully I’ll manage to get the details 🥲)

Sh-Ra (on Netflix) / He-Man

Stop motion Movies/ Short Movies (a Mister Brothers Christmas, Peter cottontail, Wendel & Wild, etc..)

Ben 10 (and everything else the belongs to the franchise)

The Octonauts

Hilda (on Netflix)

Hazbin Hotel/ Helluva Boss

The little Prince

the Sandman (on Netflix)

9 (the movie from 2005 with the little “dolls”)

Star Wars the Clone Wars

School for Vampires

The amazing digital Circus

Anime⬇️

Welcome to demon school! Irim-kun

Assassination classroom

Seven deadly sins

Overlord

Sleepy Princess in the Demon Castle

One Piece

Sacrificial Princess and the King of Beasts

I'm the Villainess, So I'm Taming the Final Boss

Ancient Magus Bride

That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime

Reborn as a Vending Machine, Now I Wander the Dungeon

Delicious in Dungeon

Dragonball Z (idk about completely all of it but I’ll try my best)

Comics/ Manga/ Stories⬇️

Siúil, a Rún - the Girl from the Other Side

The Invisible Man and His Soon-to-Be Wife

The Property of Hate

Vast Unknown

Creepypasta And SCP (not all of them but some)

Video Games

Dead by Daylight

Poppy Playtime

FNAF (again idk much about the new stuff but I’ll try)

Undertale (maybe Deltarune but i don’t know much about it)

Backrooms

Lethal Company

Fran Bow

Little Misfortune

Night in the woods

I’m pretty sure I forgot some but this is all for now 😋

You can always ask for a Fandom even if it isn’t on the list, I’ll let you know if I’ll be doing it (and hey, maybe the new fandom even lands on the list if I like it :)

Side note: these are the ones I’ll be drawing for, not all I know. I know plenty more wich I just didn’t want to include because they’re too hard to draw or just not my cup of tea

[omgkalyppso]

5 and 20 for the fanfic ask game? (any fic you want to pull from for 20, but maybe something with the ot4?)

Thank you for the ask! (:

5. What’s something you learned while researching a fic?

I didn't learn anything, because I don't remember, but I was recently on the wiki page for fastest birds by flight speed.

Let me think of something I did learn...

Oh! The spotted seal's "latin name" Phoca Largha contains no latin. Phoce is Greek for seal and Largha is the Tungus people's word for this kind of seal. They are one of the few "true seals" to be native to China.

20. Share your favorite kiss scene from [insert fic]. If there’s no kiss scene, share your favorite moment of intimacy (romantic or platonic)

Let me grab two kiss scenes from my post-canon Romantic Bedroom Antics fics to mirror each other / show off relationship growth (vs dynamic consistency, lol).

Suggestive stuff of Fae x Claude x Hilda x Lorenz below the cut.

Scene 1, Chapter 2

Hilda let out a stuttered squeaking breath. She could feel Claude closing in around her, his hand creeping onto her thigh, but Fae was holding her attention with their expression and a steady hand that curled into her hair behind her ear, pulling her into a passionate and disarming kiss.

Claude's hand had left her thigh, and gently nudged her chin around to face him afterwards, kissing Hilda more softly and sweetly than Fae had, his beard tickling her face. When he pulled back, Hilda looked to Lorenz, who averted his gaze for but a second, and moved as if to continue making tea. She smiled at his antics, or maybe her own, before looking back to Claude, who was stroking his thumb across her cheek.

"Your lips are so soft," he purred, causing Hilda to flush harder and pull away in an exaggerated way.

"Claude!" she scolded, a gesture discredited by Fae's hand rubbing up and down her side, slipping up to bump against her breast.

"Sorry," he laughed, winking again, "it's just been a while since I kissed someone other than Fae."

"Oh!" Hilda peeped, sharing a long distance glance with Lorenz.

"Oh?" Claude asked gently.

"Oh: Have you two kissed many people?" Hilda asked carefully.

"Not since becoming a professor," Fae answered, raising two fingers in salute.

Claude's smile had only grown more wicked, but he was starting to blush as he answered, "I ... tried my hand at kissing ," the word held a sort of finality to it as if to make plain, he didn't mean only kissing, "between my return to Almyra, and the birth of Omoya."

"But you were engaged?" Lorenz asked, advancing with the tea.

"I wasn't disloyal," Claude answered instantly, and saw that Lorenz and Fae shared a look that set his spouse to blushing, and decided it would be better to not be subtle. "Fae and I spoke at length in our letters about whether they wanted me to be a virgin for our wedding night." Lorenz was uncorking the other bottle of wine. "Instead," Claude continued, "I learned a lot about myself, and others."

Lorenz sat across from the three of them, drinking deep as, apparently satisfied with this answer, Hilda and Fae were rolling around on the divan together, just next to Claude. Fae lay back as Hilda crawled atop them, kissing deep and hot as their hands slid down her sides to squeeze her supple bottom. Before Claude could turn to do Goddess knows what, Lorenz asked, "Then, this is hardly special to you?"

Claude's expression was so ardent that Lorenz instantly felt guilty again, as he wondered whether he was only present to question and injure his friends.

"No," Claude answered, jolted by a kick from the other two. He smiled down at the tangle of legs, and took to unstrapping their shoes as he continued his conversation, "If anything, the conclusion should be that my past experiences were hardly special to me. I love you," the words struck Lorenz hard, even after his supposed declaration earlier, "and Fae, and Hilda, and this is ... a treat," Claude suggested.

It was absurd that this conversation was punctuated with Fae's hand making long loops away from the divan, plucking at the strings in Hilda's corset.

"But really," Claude emphasized, "you have to realize that things can be special in different ways and to different degrees, yes?"

"Oh, I like that," Fae moaned, Hilda sucking hard at the base of their neck, and Lorenz felt he was lost. He sipped his wine.

Scene 2, Chapter 10

“We just wanted to wish you a good night,” Fae said, as if in parting, wrapping their hands around Claude’s left arm.

“That's just what Lorenz was doing,” Hilda said with a smile, a lilt in her voice.

“How do you mean?” Fae asked at the same time that Lorenz groaned her name in amusement.

“Hilda.”

“Oh,” Fae said softly, as they and Claude twitched a little closer together as they made the connection.

“I…” Claude found himself feeling guiltier and he took a step forward, of a mind to lead Fae back out of the room, “hope I didn't ruin the night for you then. It was good to see you today.” At least, in that, he could be at ease. He had missed them and their family, and, hopefully, at least earlier he hadn’t done anything offensive or presumptuous. “Maybe later we can—”

But Lorenz had already been rolling his eyes, and pulled Claude into a kiss to silence him. “Relax.”

They kissed again, more slowly, with smiles upon their lips, and Fae slipped further into the room, sliding a hand across Hilda’s shoulders as they beckoned at a whisper, “Come here.”

Fae and Hilda sat kissing on the corner of the bed when Claude and Lorenz parted, a slight frown still on Lorenz’s brow.

“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors?” Lorenz confirmed, and Claude grunted in annoyance, an affirmative answer.

“Is Hilda okay?”

Lorenz chuckled, pressing another kiss to Claude’s cheek, holding him close. “She’s fine. I mean, we were both insulted, a little, but we were more worried about you and Faedolyn… If your guards continue to talk and—”

“Assume.”

“Intuit,” Lorenz asserted. “Anything we build together will look like favoritism or frivolity, depending on its success, and … worse…” He watched as Fae and Hilda crawled upon the bed, more intimate than erotic, at least for the time being. “It might be true.”

Claude couldn’t help his amusement. “As if we agree on everything — on anything.” He leaned away from Lorenz. “You’re worried about corruption?”

“No more than we should be, I think. Not enough for that to be the reason I’d object,” Lorenz clarified, guiding Claude forward. They sat on the edge of the bed and lay back, Lorenz bumping into Fae so that they giggled, and Lorenz extended his right hand to link with Claude’s left as he turned his head to face him.

“I’m worried about you,” Lorenz confessed. “Omoya is still so young. If you and Fae should appear unreliable… There will be better moments — there have been better moments, than distantly observed in a guested room.”

“Are you still kicking us out?” Fae asked turning from Hilda to run a hand upon his hair.

“He wouldn’t dare,” Hilda taunted.

“You know I only take calculated risks,” Claude teased, and Lorenz took a moment to look at him. He and Fae had changed from the clothing they’d worn during the day. They weren’t in bedclothes, exactly, but the silks and soft materials Claude was layered in were almost as a robe, loose and handily bound, an outfit that he could easily shrug into or out of. He hadn’t visited on a whim, and the guards were probably well-chosen also, as well as the hour, and Lorenz’s worries instead started to spiral about having been so self-centered as to imagine his partners as careless, and that only he might be vigilant of the dangers.

“I know,” he promised Claude instead, rolling forward to curve his left hand into the part in his clothing, groping his chest.

Lorenz might’ve leaned in to kiss Claude then, if Fae hadn’t swung their legs over his face so that he and Claude were sharing a look of startled delight. Fae shuffled down to lay by Lorenz’s opposite side, wrapping an arm around him, while Hilda moved to lean forward, pressing a kiss to Lorenz’s forehead and Claude’s lips.

Claude curled his body sideways, more towards the bed, leaning up to Hilda’s mouth to kiss her more attentively, a soft hitch in his breath when Lorenz had let his hand slip from his body to clasp at one side of his robes, so that the motion pulled them half open, exposing half of his chest.

[viitlumi]

" this is truly a room worth admiring . " - zeke to hilda c: <

@worldhell The forest was shrouded in a dense veil of rain, each drop striking the canopy like a drumbeat, forming a symphony of nature's relentless fury. The wind howled through the trees, the branches swayed and creaked, their whispers drowned in the storm. Hilda Stjornhalm, the foremost huntress in her homeland of Isvann, stood in solidarity in the storm, her heart pounding beneath the rhythm of the rain. She was a figure of quiet determination, a shadow among the trees, now seeking shelter in a small, weathered hut with the notoriously infamous Zeke Yeager. The cabin was a stark contrast to the chaos outside – a fragile sanctuary amid the torrential downpour. Its wooden walls groaned under the weight of the rain, and the dim light filtering through the small, grimy window cast eerie shadows across the room. Hilda sat opposite Zeke, her bow resting across her lap, the arrow fitted with a specialized tip akin to the thunder spears but fashioned for precision rather than destruction. Her eyes, sharp and vigilant, never left Zeke, tracking his every move with the precision of a shrewd observer. Captain Levi's words echoed in her mind: "Do not show him any pity. Do not fall for his snide words." Hilda had adhered to these instructions with unwavering determination. Not a single word had passed her lips since they took refuge in the cabin. She vehemently maintained her tongue, be it due to her tension and her angst-induced speechlessness, something she didn't want Zeke to recognize in the slightest, or be it her own version of a strategy of maintaining silence. Nothing could potentially screw it up if she never uttered a single phrase to him. Besides, she proved, anyone would detest being curtailed in activities and conversations; that discomforting tickle in someone's brain that would send them out of their mind. Hilda maintained a stoic facade, her face an impenetrable mask. Yet, beneath this exterior, she felt the tendrils of nervousness coil around her heart, her mind alert to every subtle shift in Zeke's demeanor.

The sound of raindrops against the window was a persistent remembrance of their isolation, each drop a metronome ticking away the seconds in this tension-filled vigil. Zeke, perceptive as ever, noticed her unwavering stare, probably the tension in her posture as well. His attempts to engage her had been met with silence, a wall he seemed eager to breach.

"This is truly a room worth admiring," Zeke's voice cut through the steady drumming of the rain, laced with a sardonic edge. The fair-haired woman met his eyes, though calm, they were inquisitive to her, as if they were seeking a crack in her armor. The bored tone in his voice was unmistakable; he was clearly tired of the stillness, the inactivity grating on his nerves.

Hilda’s grip tightened on her bow, her fingers brushing against the cool wood. She continued to focus, her gaze shifting momentarily to the surrounding room. The cabin was sparse, with only a small table and two chairs, a few scattered papers, and a dim lantern that cast long, flickering shadows. It was a setting stripped of any comfort, mirroring the bleakness of their encounter.

The rain outside grew fiercer, pounding against the roof with an almost desperate ferocity, as if the storm itself sought to intrude upon their fragile peace. Hilda's eyes returned to Zeke, her silence a fortress she refused to lower. She knew he could sense her nervousness, the unease that lay beneath her composed exterior. But the huntress also knew that, in this perilous field of patience and wits, she could not afford to fall short.

Yet, Hilda's gaze didn't waver. She let the monotony take hold, each second a testament to her resolve. In this storm-battered cabin, amidst the relentless rain and the palpable tension, the young woman remained a silent sentinel, ever vigilant, ever prepared for what lay ahead.

[ratsoh-writes]

OK resending soooo for Birdtale, Birdswap, Birdfell, Draketale, Drakeswap, and Drakefell...

SO loves wing cuddles. LIVES for wing cuddles. So much so that they won't let skellie get out of bed in the morning because their too busy nuzzling into them

-wisteria

Quill: well crap, guess you guys are never getting up. Ok he lied, you do have to move eventually, but you and quill are notorious for being late risers simply because you two lay in bed and snuggle after waking. The cuddles turn into your “couple time” where you two just talk about anything and everything

Crow: he gets really creative about how he escapes in the morning. One day he simply glitches through you and makes a run for it cackling, another day you wake up to find you’re cuddling a mettaton body pillow instead. Crow has a busy schedule he can’t just push back for you sadly.

Mango: she’s a meanie. Mango just simply flutters her wings and feathers. That doesn’t sound too bad, unless you’re bugging said wings of course. Suddenly every feather is moving and getting all up in your face, and you have to move away to either scratch where the feathers tickled you or sneeze.

Papaya: he loves wing cuddles almost as much as you do. You always wake up in a big feather cocoon. Papaya will pull you against his chest in his sleep, and his wings always curl around you two. It’s amazing in the winter, you get your best nights of sleep then. But it’s hell in the summer. Those feathers trap a lot of heat lol

Roost: stars why do you do this to him?? Roost has to get up and open his shop, but your cute whining noises are sending little waves of pain through his soul (not literally, he’s just dramatic and doesn’t want to leave). So roost does the thing he’s best at, flirt. He knows you hate waking up, so he starts getting frisky and you get annoyed and tell him to go. Mission accomplished! Or you’re into it and he gets some. Either way he wins

Harpy: she likes to pretend she’s some hard*ss who can never be swayed, but for her SO harpy is a complete sucker. When you give her the sad puppy eyes and hold on to her wings, her soul just melts and she begrudgingly agrees to stay another hour. After a while of this pattern, harpy resorts to keeping her laptop by the bedside and she’ll just do her paperwork and emails in the morning while you get your extra cuddle time in

Alden: after a while of dating you, every semester you notice that al is conveniently only teaching evening classes at the college leaving his mornings free for cuddles whenever he wants. If he isn’t hit by some artistic inspiration that is. Nothing can distract him then lol. You take what you can get

Ollivander: every morning is a battle between you two lol. You whine at Ollie to stay, he he whines back that he needs to get ready for work. You’re crushing him here, he loves you but please! He can’t go to work in his pajamas! He always leaves you with a ton of kisses though, feeling bad he has to go. Ollie is a sweetie

Barin: lol you thought. Barin doesn’t care if you’re holding on to his wings, when he needs to get up, he just does. And unless you let go you’re getting dragged out of bed too. He always chuckles at your disgruntled whines like the meanie he is

Arwin: like roost, he chooses flirting as his weapon. It’s a morning ritual for him to start getting handsy with you a few minutes before he has to get up. If you’re gonna make it hard for him, he might as well have fun with it.

Hilda: oh my stars you’re so cute she might die. You get tons of nuzzles from her in the mornings. Hilda isn’t really “aware” when she first wakes up, so she always gets super snuggly if she’s woken up by you cuddling her wings. It’s wonderful honestly.

Saga: her wings are smooth and almost soft so they make great pillows to her embarrassment. Saga always wakes up a bit flustered when she finds you hugging them. She’s nicer than the others and will gently whisper to you to let go until you have mercy on her.

[comfytickles]

Hey everybody I'm finally making a pinned post thingy! (If you follow my main account @thecomfortable you would've seen a similar post but you guys get a different image)

So hello and welcome to my blog! My name is Comfytickles but you can call me Comfy for short. I go by she/her - though I don't mind they/them - and I am an Australian artist and turtle enthusiast! This is my art blog where I will mainly post fanart and fanfics with perhaps a few low quality originals lumped in the mix.

Requests are closed.

COMMS ARE CLOSED CURRENTLY! (Although you can see the details for commissions here):

While this blog isn't nsfw orientated, it is a tickle-blog! If that isn't your thing I suggest you go look at my main. Though I will be adding nsfw tags to future posts (if I ever make any). Rest assured, that all posts will be flagged accordingly.

Additionally, I am not looking for tickle teases or lees in my askbox/dms. I'm just making artworks for myself and potentially others. Don't make things weird.

— Small intermission to put an important warning —

REMINDER!!

IF YOU ARE A MINOR DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS BLOG. I cannot stress this enough. Although I cannot stop you looking, I can warn you that some content may border on nsfw and I have the right to block minors if I feel uncomfortable.

Please do the right thing guys, don't make me block you.

— Warning over —

I won't be making a master list just yet but here are a few fandoms included in my blog and the request rules:

Fandoms:

Fandoms I'm currently in are green

Fandoms I'm potentially posting for are orange

Fandoms I no longer post for but did in the past are red

Animaniacs

Danganronpa

Hetalia

Howls moving castle

Ninjago

Peanuts

Psychonauts

Raggedy Ann and Andy: The Musical Adventure

Sonic the hedgehog

TMNT 2012 /Mutant Mayhem

Undertale

Hilda

Skylanders

Minecraft Storymode

I'll add more...

Garfield

Dragon ball (Specifically Gohan and Videl)

Transformers One/G1/Prime/Animated

Request Rules:

What I allow:

Tickling (obv)

Suggestive themes, slightly nsfw

Up to four characters (max)

Romantic ships (though I am allowed to decline)

OCs (you just need to send me their designs)

Overstimulation (in a similar vein to suggestive themes)

What I don't allow:

Incest

Nsfw

Pedophila/pro-shipping

Foot fetish/Foot focus

Suggestive drawings/shipping of real people

[voidsdamned]

Wicked Natures - The Ghoul/OC (Female Character) Chapter Ten

Summary: Bounty hunters are frequent customers at Mulholland's Saloon, and Rue's taken quite a shine to one gunslinger in particular: a cantankerous, old Ghoul in a tattered duster. Witness her unabashedly lust after him in all his irradiated glory (as we are all currently doing), as well as navigate the precarious relationship she unfortunately has with local law enforcement.

Minors, do not interact.

Content Warnings: incredibly mild. Swearing. Mentions of violence. Some fluffy bits.

Enjoy.

Chapter Ten: Purely Enchanted

A jaunt around the house and barns leaves Rue calf-less and fairly certain the darling, little bovines are back with their mother. Which is the best place for them, but Rue rather liked them tailing her wherever she went. She had the cutest posse ever.

She still has Hilda, and the droopy-faced girl is more than enough. She keeps close to Rue, following her into one of the barns where Rue pokes around in her boredom. She could head back to the porch, entertain herself with watching a certain cowboy snooze the day away, but she decides she will leave him in peace for the moment. He got even less sleep than her, and Mrs. Ira Jean said they’d be heading into the barn soon anyway.

Rue walks around the vastly empty structure, examining the worn tools hung up on the walls, the patched-up stalls, and the rickety ladder leading up to the loft. She spins about in the emptiness, riling Hilda up by jumping around and lunging. Sprinting around the room and zig-zagging to evade the pup. For a moment, she practices her cartwheels and ends up in a forward roll that puts her out at the foot of that death-trap-looking ladder.

Rue uses it to pull herself to her feet and decides she might as well climb it.

The ladder shakes, creaks, and groans –one of the rungs snaps– but Rue makes it to the top, climbing into a dusty loft only partially lit by a hole in the roof and an ajar window. The sparse light reveals age-old dust and dirt, curled lengths of twine, hole-riddled tarps, and varied broken pieces of furniture. And though the hay which must have once been stored here is long decayed, the air is still heavy, stagnant, with the smell of it.

Rue scratches her nose as she picks around, ignoring the way the floor creaks as she examines the heaps of wood that used to be rocking chairs, dressers, and shelving. Along the windowed wall, a sagging couch slumps, threadbare and dusty grey when Rue thinks it might have been red. Her attention turns to the cracked window where she sees Mrs. Ira Jean, Margo, and Possum heading her way, which means it's time to get back after it.

She turns to leave the loft, eyes catching on a large, dark shape behind the mostly-collapsed couch. She pauses and crouches, grabbing hold of the scratchy-materialled, black whatever and tugging until she’s pulled a dust-caked guitar case free.

Everything within Rue goes still at the sight of it, but on the outside, her fingers move to unzip the old case. It takes some wiggling, some tugging with all her might, but it eventually comes undone, allowing her to tip back the lid. What rests inside makes her breath catch in her throat and something in her soul quiver.

It’s a beautiful, bafflingly-pristine guitar, dark-lacquered and six-stringed with swirls etched around the edges. Her heart twists, and a physical shiver goes up and down her spine when she runs her fingers along the strings and the softest of vibrations trail through her. The barest of notes tickles against her skin.

Rue used to have a guitar –she used to have a lot of things– but it was something else the fire took from her. Something she couldn’t replace. Something she forgot about as time and life do what they always do: wear everything away. Become so hectic and changed, and then so monotonous all the dreams fade as one goes through the motions. As pleasure seems to slowly drip-drip-drip out.

But a waterfall of pure, undiluted joy spills into Rue, filling up an empty space she didn’t realize had gone hollow.

“Rue! Honey, ya in here?”

Mrs. Ira Jean’s voice pulls the vibrating, excited Rue out of her head. She hurriedly zips up the case, springs to her feet, and worms her way through the case strap. She must float to the ladder, down it. She doesn’t even hear Mrs. Ira Jean gently scolding her for going somewhere so unsafe. Rue simply bounds up to the rancher and presents the priceless treasure she found, a smile just about splitting her face in two.

Mrs. Ira Jean’s face goes on a journey. Her brow-furrowed look of worry goes to one of confusion, curiosity, and then there’s this spark. This dawning –like light spills over her face as she remembers something she’d long forgotten.

“Shit,” the rancher’s swear is breathless. “That’s Baby Destiny’s guitar….” She slowly reaches into the case and carefully extracts the instrument, cradling it as if it is an infant. Eyes wide and glossy, she sniffs as she looks to Rue. “This… this was up there?”

Rue nods exuberantly. “Tucked away behind an old couch. It’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Mrs. Ira Jean gives a laugh that halfway sounds like a sob. She nods. “It is –it really is. Shit. Fuck. This was my lil’ cousin’s guitar. She was… well, she wasn’t that great with it, but she was real passionate. She practiced all the time –even at night, and mama would chase her out. Tell her to….” The rancher’s eyes go up, to the gloomy loft. “To go to the barn.”

Mrs. Ira Jean stares. She sniffs. She wipes at the tears collecting in the hollows of her eyes.

Rue knows she didn’t do anything wrong, but seeing those tears, hearing that sniffle, they make her heart do all manners of restless, antsy twists and flips. She bounces and wrings her fingers before her arms outstretch to carefully hug the woman who hugs the guitar. “I didn’t mean to make ya cry, Mrs. Ira Jean.”

The rancher sniffs again, laughing wetly. Her rough lips kiss Rue’s hair before her chin comes to rest atop her head. “Honey, it’s a good cry.”

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Nostalgia seizes Mrs. Ira Jean, and Rue spends the afternoon hanging on the rancher’s every word –every story surrounding the ranch. As they clean out stalls, Rue learns about the dozen members of the Miller family and how they'd run the place together. They had meat and dairy cows –sprawling farmland. It was hard work –hectic– but it meant everything to her.

As they bring in the brahmin for milking, the rancher reminisces about the ice cream they used to make with the milk. It was rich and icy. After Sunday dinner, her mama would fix everyone a big, old bowl of it, and the whole clan would hunker down in the living room to listen to a radio broadcast together. Mrs. Ira Jean can’t remember the name of it for the life of her but knows for certain it was “some of that detective noir shit.”  

As they close and lock the barns for the night, Mrs. Ira Jean talks at length about her mama. The rancher got her height and build from the dearly departed, but her mama was brawnier. Tough as nails. The matron of the Millers could whoop anyone’s sorry ass –she could bare-knuckle brawl a yao guai and emerge the victor in Mrs. Ira Jean’s humble opinion.

A quiet falls as the two walk closely together back towards the house, the dogs trotting alongside them. Mrs. Ira Jean cradles Baby Destiny's guitar, and Rue looks to it in longing. But she knows it’s not for her. It’s with someone who knows it. Who cherishes it. She makes herself look away, to the sunset of deep pinks and blues. 

Her grin goes a bit sweeter.

“Y’know,” the start of the sentence is slow and soft, drawing Rue’s gaze to the slight curve that pulls at Mrs. Ira Jean’s mouth. “Rosa and I, we’re thinkin’ ‘bout hirin’ on an extra hand –got a room. A seat at the table. I know you're experienced, and you've got the enthusiasm I'm lookin' for, so if ya want the job, it's yours.”  

Rue blooms and wilts within the same heartbeat, heart expanding and filling with so much warmth but shriveling painfully just as quick.

A dream is what Mrs. Ira Jean offers to her. An escape. But it is one Rue knows she cannot take. Not with the way things are. Deck won’t allow for it, and if Rue so much as suggests it, she has a feeling something horribly similar to what happened to her ranch would happen to Mrs. Ira Jean’s. She doesn’t want that.

Rue feels sick as she turns Mrs. Ira Jean down, her eyes refocusing on the sunset because she can’t bear to look at the rancher’s face. “I want to take it. Really, really do. But I got some personal stuff goin’ on right now. It’s gonna keep me in place a lil’ while longer.”

“Personal stuff? Like debt or what?” the rancher presses, and just by the sharper tone of her voice, Rue knows her eyes will be soul-flaying. “I don’t mind helpin’ ya out if you’re tangled up, Rue.”

“Oh, it’s nothin’ I can’t handle,” Rue chirps, shooting the rancher a quick grin she hopes is assuring. “It’s just been time consumin’. But I’ll get it all sorted, and after –if ya still want me– I’d love to work for you.”

Gotta find Artie first, though. Maybe he’d want to do some ranchin’ again? …Do I actually want to or does it just sound real good right now? Shit, could I still even work ‘round here? Don’t imagine anyone would want me ‘round once I kill the sheriff they love so much. Fuck, they’d probably put a bounty out on me.

A hand grasps Rue’s wrist for the second time today, stalling her train of thought and pulling her to a stop. She looks to the withered but strong hand, and then to Mrs. Ira Jean in question. The rancher’s soft smile has been replaced by a dread seriousness. Those blue eyes hurt to look into.

“I know you’re grown. I know ya been takin’ care of yourself for years, but I’ve found myself worryin’ for ya here lately. For a whole buncha reasons and gut feelins and just…. I wantcha out here where I can look out for ya better.” Mrs. Ira Jean’s grasp slides down to Rue’s hand. She squeezes; Rue's heart overflows. “So what’s goin’ on, honey? Lemme help ya fix it.”

Rue, dying a bit inside, wonders what's wrong with her that she can't see the love and care in her life until she's smacked in the face with them. Because the stupid, thick thing that she is, is completely shocked in this moment. Reeling. Realizing. Mrs. Ira Jean actually gives a damn about her. She's genuine, and she's worried. And Rue thinks if she was to tell the beautiful woman what she semi-recently found out about Deck and everything that's happened since that Mrs. Ira Jean would do everything within her power to see it righted.

And for a moment, Rue desires with her whole heart to blurt out all her woes and let someone fucking help her.

Facts and the dead-set determination to keep Mrs. Ira Jean safe prevent Rue from spilling her guts. Mrs. Ira Jean is one person with a solitary 10mm pistol on her hip and a knife in her boot. Deck Craven has two dozen men armed to the teeth. It isn't a fair fight. It's a death sentence. Rue won't doom another.

She makes herself smile, bright and unconcerned. A little confused, even. "Gosh, I hate I’m worryin’ ya so bad, but I promise there ain't a reason for it. I’m all okay. And what I got goin’ on, it ain’t nothin’ special. Nothin' I can't handle with a lil' more work.”

The rancher continues to watch her, gaze so firm and… worried. It rests there sincerely and painfully, and Rue can’t stand to see it. Yet she makes her eyes meet Mrs. Ira Jean’s.

The curl of her mouth is sedate, nothing in the world is wrong. She squeezes the rancher’s hand. "Thank ya for thinkin' 'bout me, though."

“Would you tell me if things got real bad?" It's a demand and question rolled into one, spoken gravely as Mrs. Ira Jean stares holes through her. "Would you come to me?”

Rue’s smile spreads. She lies. “I would.”

Because there’s no way in hell she’s dragging this wonderful woman into her shit.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Whatever dinner is smells delicious –of onion, peppers, and garlic. Spicy. It sets Rue’s mouth to watering, her stomach to grumbling, and she’d go hang on Mrs. Rosa’s shoulders to watch her perform culinary magic if she wasn’t so sweaty and nasty.

That is remedied with a good, old-fashioned, whore’s bath in the bathroom sink. And while she's at it, Rue -still reeling from her exchange with Mrs. Ira Jean- submerges her face in ice-cold water and has herself a nice, soundless scream. Then she pieces herself together well enough, changes into the spare clothes she brought along, and heads to the kitchen where she can hear Mrs. Ira Jean chatting up her wife and Mrs. Rosa giggling away.

It is also where Rue finds the bounty hunter, spread-legged and unconcerned as he reclines in a dining chair and drains a tall glass of water. He acknowledges her presence with only the briefest of glances –probably because Rue wears the smuggest of expression and waggles her brows at him. She takes the seat right beside his, props her elbow upon the table, and then her chin upon her palm, continuing to make eyes at him.

“I know you’re ‘bout to say some shit,” the Ghoul cuts off the correctly-called shit she was about to say, “but ya don’t turn down a hot meal out here.”

“Sure, sure.” Rue breathes out slow and reigns herself in. The dinner table isn’t the best place to blatantly lust after someone –not with company present, at least. Her smile eases into something simple and friendly. “I’m just glad you’re still hangin’ ‘round. …Ya sleep the afternoon away, or did ya take some time to poke ‘round?”

“Slept, mostly. But I did see the chickens out back when I was stretchin’ my legs after.”

Rue gets excited at the mere mention of the precious, little chickies. “Did ya see how they got all those feathers on their feet! It’s adorable. Like they got pants and boots on. Had me thinkin’ ‘bout chickens wearin’ jeans, and lil’ cowboy hats, and like… what it they had tiny holsters for tiny guns? And one was a sheriff with a gold star, and another was a sombrero-wearin’ bandito?”

The Ghoul scrubs at his lips, amusement-glinting eyes ticking away from her. “I’d say ya spent too much time in the sun today.”

“Nah, I had my hat on. It kept me safe.”

A plate is set before Rue, one piled high with juicy strips of marinated flank steak cooked to a perfect medium rare, a small mountain or reddish rice, and a heap of grilled peppers and onion. It looks so tasty -smells so, damn good- Rue forgets that anything else except the masterpiece on the plate before her exists. She doesn’t even realize Mrs. Ira Jean’s asked her a question until the Ghoul is flicking her on the nose.

She looks up from her food, to the Ghoul who side-eyes her as he says, “Yeah, thick thing’s usually my server over at Mulholland’s.”

Rue gathers Mrs. Ira Jean must have asked if they know one another, so she nods along to what the Ghoul says, beaming bright and chirping, “Lightnin’ here’s my favourite customer.”

She might have reigned herself in a bit, but she never had any intentions of completely behaving.

The gunslinger’s head tilts, eyes narrowing a touch. “Don’tcha start.”

His warning is mild, undermined by smothered laughter. Rue doesn’t take him seriously.

But Mrs. Ira Jean takes the bait, cocking her head curiously and a grin crooking her lips. “Lightnin’?”

Rue bobs her head, picking up her fork when she notes Mrs. Rosa, lips quirked, already tucking into her own meal. “Yeah, he won’t tell me his real name, but said I could just call him Lightnin’.” She takes a bite of the steak, eyes fluttering and a moan of delicious pleasure wanting to escape her. “Mrs. Rosa. Mrs. Rosa. This might be the best, damn thing I’ve ever had in my life. I’d try to make ya my wife if ya weren’t already married.”

Mrs. Ira Jean cackles as her wife becomes downright bashful, one hand attempting to hide what looks to be a blooming blush while the other bats away Rue’s praise. “It’s… it’s just carne asada –just something I threw together.”

Rue knows that’s not the truth -that Mrs. Rosa was in here putting her heart and soul into the meal- but she doesn’t know how much attention the introverted woman can actually handle before her face catches on fire. So, she smiles sincerely, telling her, “Well, ya did a helluva job. Honest. It’s delicious.”

“You bring such a sweet girl into the house, Ira Jean,” Mrs. Rosa mumbles, burying her face in her wife’s shoulder. “Shield me, love. My face burns.”

The rancher’s laughter is softer, sweeter, and her gaze so fond and loving as she glances down at her wife. She places a kiss to Mrs. Rosa’s head before pressing the prior subject. “There a story behind Lightnin’?”

The Ghoul shakes his head, spearing a strip of steak. He pauses just long enough to grumble out a, “Naw. All she’s doin’ is tryin’ to get a rise outta me,” before eating.

Rue feigns a look of innocence. “I’d never.” And then turns it back on him, "He likes to pretend he don't like me."

Around another bite, he says, “This is why.”

“So you are pretendin’?”

The Ghoul flips her off; Rue giggles madly over it.

Mrs. Ira Jean's grin is wide and genuine. “Well, I’m glad we’re all acquainted, then. Makes dinner feel cozier when everyone’s on friendly terms.”

Rue’s brows raise curiously as her eyes tick between the two Ghouls. She chews and swallows her mouthful before asking, “Y'all known each other a long time?”

“Run into him a few times over the last few decades,” Mrs. Ira Jean explains, dipping her head. “First time was in… Shady Sands? Back ‘fore it got big and had some semblance of actual law. Got caught up in a shootout with some hateful smoothskins.”

“Huh.” The Ghoul's mouth forms a thoughtful line. “Thought it was Baja I knew ya from….”

The rancher snorts. “Baja end in a shootout, too?”

He nods, admitting plainly, “In my line of work, most things do.”

“Kinda just how things in the Wastes end in general,” Mrs. Ira Jean muses. “I’ve seen at least one person or place get holes blown through ‘em in most settlements I’ve breezed through. And over the pettiest of shit. Saw two fellas walkin’ the same little, wooden foot bridge, goin’ in opposite directions. Both refused to move out the other’s way, and they went to swappin’ bullets over it. Then a third party steps in and just ends up shootin’ ‘em both.”

“Had a guy step on another guy’s foot last week at the saloon,” Rue tosses in, having plenty of ‘petty infraction results in murder’ stories. “He got a smashed beer bottle cross the throat for it.”

“Oof.” Mrs. Ira Jean makes a sour face. “Anyone I know?”

Rue shakes her head. “Caravaners –it’s only the out-of-towners that cause trouble anymore. …Until Jimmie Boone brings in the moonshine. Then ya got Bo Fortenberry wrestlin’ Fat Patrick over a pitcher of beer that got drained a lil’ too fast.”

“And who won that one?”

“Fat Patrick, of course,” Rue states as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “All he had to do was sit on Bo, and it was over.”

For several minutes, the dinner conversation is dominated by tales such as these. Rue relaying drunken antics. Mrs. Ira Jean and the Ghoul sharing tales garnered during their travels (the Ghoul tells a good one about a friendly supermutant that smacked a guy’s head clean off his shoulders after getting their ass pinched). Mrs. Rosa even has one of her own: how one of the abuelas in her hometown once shoved her sandal down a man’s throat when he pushed an admittedly annoying kid into a well.

But somewhere along the way, as dinner turns into drinks (Mrs. Rosa makes something called a Bloody Mary and Rue feels like a cannibal the entire time she’s drinking it), tales of the Wasteland become tales of the before. When Mrs. Ira Jean was a teenager, she once spent a weekend in the county jail for dog-walking the girl who kept beating up her little cousin. Mrs. Rosa admits she only threw a punch once, and it was when a high school teacher of hers thought it proper to get in her face and scream. Her body just reacted, and she ended up suspended. The Ghoul says he did most of his fighting in the military, and before the bombs dropped, he thought he’d given it up for good.

It becomes reminiscing. Things that they miss. Things that they used to do.

Rue can’t say much. She wasn’t around for the before, but she’s always loved to hear about it. The pre-war world has always felt more like fiction to Rue even though she’s surrounded by remnants of it nearly all the time. Proof that the before was sleek and shiny. Civilized (mostly). Safe (again, mostly). Kids rode their bikes in the streets. People vacationed. They lived in massive cities where the lights always shone. Fancy cars could take them miles in minutes while Rue has to walk at least a half-hour most anywhere she wants to go. And they had hot water whenever they wanted it.

Which is really the main thing she’s jealous about. Everything else… meh.

But she listens with rapt attention, imagining all the things she doesn’t fully understand. That she likely never will. Like going to the movies or the library –or for a night on the town. Dancing with a partner in a club with the lights dimmed low, the music live and smokey.

Well, Rue could make that last one happen. She just needs a guitar, and Baby Destiny’s is laid out on the kitchen counter. Neglected. Calling to her even though she knows it isn't meant to be.

But maybe, for a heartbeat or two, she can pretend.

“Mrs. Ira Jean, can I play that guitar?”

The Ghouls come out of the reverie they’d caught themselves in, the rancher looking her way with a cocked brow. “Y’know how?”

“I used to.” Rue wiggles in her seat, wanting badly to see if she still has it in her. “Maybe I still do.”

Mrs. Ira Jean’s smile is gentle. She tilts her head in the affirmative. “Go ahead, honey.”

Rue goes for it, popping to her feet and rushing to the guitar. She has it in her hands in seconds, the strap going over her head for support, and as its weight settles on her, her body recalls... everything. How to hold the guitar. How the shape of it should feel and fit into her arms. Her right hand grips the neck, fingers finding exactly where they need to go. Her left fingers find the strings over the sound hole, and with no hesitation, she strums.

Rue's fingers prickle, her entirety lighting up at the few chords that seep into her skin. They're not quite right -just a little out of tune. Rue could fix that, but she doesn't currently have the patience. She needs to play even if one string is a bit twangy. 

Starting off, nothing she plays is serious. It's just her getting a feel of things and her brain flooding with faded snippets of decades' old instructions curtesy of the woman who squeezed her out. Rue can't quite recall her face, and she's glad for it, but for some reason, she perfectly recollects the way the faceless woman's calloused fingers felt as they guided her movements. The way her body radiated an affirming warmth beside her. Rue remembers a small crowd of blue-and-yellow children applauding her and how her cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

And years later, she remembers standing in the streets of Dust, holding onto her Pa’s shirt with an iron grip with one hand while she mercilessly chewed at the thumb of the other. He was talking to a travelling merchant; Rue's eyes picked all around before locking on a banged-up guitar case resting in the back of the merchant’s cart. She pointed. She tugged at her Pa's shirt. She gave a very small, “Please,” and that’s really all it ever took.

They took it home. There was sheet music in the case, something else Rue recognized. Something else her incubator had taught her to read. How to came back slowly, and when it did, the sheet-music song came out so pretty.

Rue finds herself playing that song, the gentle, wistful chords making her head swirl and her heart flutter in such a lovely, absorbing way that she ceases to physically exist. She's nothing but fingers on strings and silky notes, and when she finishes.... Rue stares into nothing, wondering how she could have possibly forgotten something that she loves.

The fire took away so much of her.

“Oh, I always loved Laurindo Almeida.” The hushed, delighted sound of Mrs. Rosa’s voice has Rue looking up to find three sets of eyes firmly fixed upon her, varying degrees of shock clearly visibly in each. But Mrs. Rosa’s light-brown ones are glossy, too, and her torn smile tender. “The Lamp is Low is one of my favourites. ...Do you know My Reverie?”

“Maybe?” Rue plucks a string idly. “Hum it.”

Mrs. Rosa does so a little shyly, gaze turned completely away from them all. Rue listens intently until something clicks in her brain. Stirs her fingers. She does know the song and the following two Mrs. Rosa hums. She knows the western stylings of Marty Robbins that Mrs. Ira Jean desires. She knows the lonesome tune of My Echo, My Shadow, and Me the Ghoul begrudgingly hums her a few bars of.

Rue plays them all, delighting in the smiles and the gleaming eyes (on Mrs. Ira Jean and Mrs. Rosa’s parts). And when the two ladies take to their feet to twirl around the kitchen table to the sound of It’s Been a Long, Long Time, Rue wants to do a little, happy dance. She does do a little, happy dance, twirling as the lovely couple does.

Her eyes catch the Ghoul’s as she spins, and she almost gives pause they surprise her so. No harshness. No steely glint. Not even a hint of hunger or lechery. They’re soft. They’re warm. They’re something she could melt into. And that same quality affects the gentle curve of his mouth.

Rue returns such an exquisite smile, playing until her fingers hurt.

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Deck is ludicrously late -afternoon bled into night three hours ago- but Rue doesn't mind. In fact, she dearly hopes a radscorpion stabbed him full of holes on the way over and devoured him bit by bit, ensuring she never sees his stupid, fucking face ever again. Then she can live with Mrs. Ira Jean and Mrs. Rosa, and the Ghoul can come visit her whenever he likes, day or night. And she could leave, too. Maybe not for forever but to occasionally indulge the wanderlust and want to run that intermittently claws at her. She could find Artie, and they could travel together. And maybe… just maybe, the Ghoul might occasionally wander beside her, too.

Rue could live instead of just exist.

Perched atop a segment of wooden fencing, she breathes a dreamy sigh, eyes fixing on the dusty, star-speckled band curving against the night sky, colours mellow and creamy. Her fingers pluck at the strings of the guitar Mrs. Ira Jean won’t take back no matter how many times Rue has tried to return it. A quiet presence lingers beside her, and the muted chatter of the ranchers comes from behind where they sit on the edge of the porch, fingers interlaced.

If Rue wasn’t so preoccupied with picking strings, she’d try to thread her fingers with those of the gunslinger. But that’s just a dream of hers, and this reality is lovely as it is.

“Where’d ya learn to play?”

Rue blinks, grey gaze drifting to the Ghoul at her side. It’s a simple prompt, one she did not expect, and her answer is just as simple, “Lady who birthed me.”

“Hm.” He doesn’t press that, head tilting in acceptance. “I didn’t expect it of you.”

She thinks that might be a compliment. It has her smiling wide. “Glad I can surprise ya.”

His half-grin is crooked and cute. “Got any other hidden talents?”

“Ummmm….” Rue chews the inside of her lips while she thinks. “I can carry a tune pretty okay. I think I’m a good dancer. Told ya before my shootin’s good…. I can carry eight pitchers of beer at once. I thought I could cook pretty decent, but Mrs. Rosa just showed me I’m shit at it.”

“That was probably one of the best meals I had in decades,” the Ghoul admits, a note of appreciation to his voice. “Things don’t ever taste like they used to, but her cookin’ was mighty close. Got me all nostalgic.”

“All three of ya were for a bit there.” Rue begins to strum Dream a Little Dream of Me without her realizing. “It was nice. …I like hearin’ ‘bout what y’all got up to in the before. Paints me good pictures, y’know?” Her feet lazily swing. She asks a silly question. “…Did the stars look different back then?”

The Ghoul chews on that longer than Rue would have expected, quiet and thoughtful-looking as he leans heavy into the fence. “Yes and no. You couldn’t see ‘em. Not really. Too much light pollution meant ya got lil’ pinpricks or nothin’ at all, and to actually get a good look at them, ya had to drive out into the middle of nowhere. And your view of the stars changes as the Earth rotates, so you’re never really lookin’ at the same thing.”

This is all news to Rue, mind-blowing. Exciting. Her fingers stop strumming, her attention caught up completely by him and the stars. “Really?”

He dips his head. “For instance, the Big Dipper,” he takes a moment to trace a shape in the sky with his right pointer finger, tapping at seven stars as he does so, “ya see up high during the Spring and Summer, but Fall and Winter, it sits closer to the horizon.”

Rue gasps, the sound ragged. Of wonderment. She’s always picked out shapes in the stars, but she had no idea they had names! “They got names?"

The lopsided smile she loves so much takes the Ghoul’s lips as he laughs at her, the sound of genuine mirth. No bite. No mocking. “Yeah? The uh…. Well, all that up there,” he waves a hand in a broad stroke against the heavens, “that’s the Milky Way.”

“The Milky Way…,” Rue echoes back softly, purely enchanted. She feels as if she’s seeing the night sky for the first time. “That’s perfect. Dreamy…. It makes it sound so yummy, too. Like I wanna get my coffee cup, dip it in, and have myself a sip of it. I bet it’d always be warm and sparkle on the way down.”

His laughter has subsided into a warm chuckle. “Think it’s more like an iced coffee. Always heard it’s freezin’ up there.”

Rue’s face scrunches up, once more baffled by what he says. “Iced coffee?”

"It was a thing."

She shakes her head, rejecting that. “Nah, nope. Coffee’s supposed to be hot, and how can outer space be cold when the sun’s right the fuck there? When it’s so goddamn hot down here?”

The gunslinger shrugs. “Not my field of study, sweetheart. I’m barely rememberin’ this from school, and that was a long time ago.”

Rue hums, trying to remember anything from her own schooling. “I can’t remember any of my science classes…. I just remember how much math made my head hurt, and everything ‘cept history and readin’ time sucked.”

The Ghoul’s gaze snaps her way, a browless brow raised in question. “You went to school? Where the hell is there a school ‘round here?”

“I’m not from here,” Rue explains. “I lived in a Vault ‘til I was ‘bout eight….” She trails off as her eyes fix in the darkened distance. Behind the Ghoul, way up the long dirt drive, several lights bob. And Rue dims. She forgets the stars, the delicious Milky Way. The heart-exciting laughter she’d managed to pull from the bounty hunter.

A grumbled, “Shit,” leaves her as she hops down from the fence.

The Ghoul's head turns. “Looks like your keeper’s comin’ to collect.”

“Yeah.” Rue hurriedly tucks the guitar away, zipping the case before wiggling her way through the strap. She needs to book it. No way she wants sheriff fuckass getting any closer to this bit of heaven on earth and soiling it. “It made me happy seein’ ya today –outside of my house and Mulholland’s.” She shifts on her feet for a moment, wanting desperately to do something stupid. Something she knows she really shouldn't. But....

Surely, it’s too dark and Deck’s too far off to see what she’s up to, right?

Fuck it.

With the way he's leaning into the fence, the Ghoul's face is easily accessible. Right on Rue's level. She doesn’t have to do much more than tip a bit forward to press a quick kiss to his scarred-up cheek. She pulls back just as fast, already turning on her heel to run towards the porch. “Be safe, alright? And remember more star names for me!”

If he says anything, looks at her a certain way, Rue doesn’t catch it. She’s in a hurry, stopping only to give Mrs. Ira Jean and Mrs. Rosa giant hugs as she thanks them excessively for the day. They tell her she’s more than welcome to come again -anytime her heart desires- and Mrs. Ira Jean reminds her that she can do more than just visit. Whenever she’s ready, she’ll be welcomed with open arms.

Which stabs at her, but Rue still smiles, giving a sincere, “Thank ya so much,” before rushing toward the lights that she won’t let draw any closer.