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[lucitrix]

y’all remind yourselves your account is your space. you’re not a performance. you’re not annoying by being yourself. if people aren’t into it they can leave. you’re not obligated to please anyone, especially at the cost of your personal expression. the worst thing you can do for your online enjoyment is to filter or censor yourself.

[lucitrix]

AAAA!! thank you so much!! this is so lovely ❤️❤️

Idk who knows this, but I did Squealing Santa this year! My giftee is @lucitrix! Happy holidays and enjoy!

Title: White Teeth

Fandom: Stranger Things

Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson

Pairings: pre-slash Steddie

Word Count: 1,898

Summary: It’s December 1984 in Forest Hills trailer park, where Eddie and Steve are working on shared homework. Or where they would be working on shared homework, if they weren’t arguing. Fighting turns into a bet, and Eddie gets a little more than he bargained for.

A/N: Steve is 19 in this fic and in his senior year. Eddie is 20 and in his second senior year.

White Teeth

The snowfall blanketing Hawkins, Indiana in the middle of December seemed to silence the town; muffling the sounds of car engines and children shouting through the cold air. Steve Harrington watched the from the living room window of Wayne Munson’s trailer, tracking the fat flakes as they splattered messily against the glass.

Wayne wasn’t there, but that didn’t matter. Steve was in Forest Hills to see Eddie Munson, who’d been managing to casually insult Steve while talking about some of the girls in their shared creative writing class.

Steve had tuned out. Instead, he stared warily at the teardrop-shaped lights strung across a little tabletop tree, daring them to blink. They didn’t. He pulled the sleeve of his dark blue sweater over his hand, despite how warm the trailer was. In his starched jeans and cashmere, he felt stuffy and out of place.

“Earth to Steve.” Eddie snapped his fingers in front of Steve’s face, rings flashing in the light coming from the trailer’s tiny kitchen. Steve glowered. The creative writing assignment they’d been given before Christmas break (which Steve thought was totally bogus) lay abandoned on the end of the sofa he sat on.

Eddie, dressed much more informally in loose jeans and a band shirt, was sprawled across the easy chair, legs dangling over one of the arms. His stupid grin beamed next to Steve’s face, which was fixed in a scowl.

“What do you want?” Steve snapped. “You want to act like you know me again?”

“Fucking fuck, Steve,” Eddie laughed, exasperated. “It was a joke, okay? I’m sure you give amazing massages. I’m just saying, girls will say a lot of things to the Great Steve Harrington. Plus,” Eddie barreled over the objection Steve was about to make, “last time I saw you use your hands, you were fumbling a basketball like a little bitch.”

That made both of Steve’s eyebrows go up. “Was I?”

He knew how to joke around, obviously. He was used to his teammates and friends making fun of him. It was all in good fun. But some guy he had one class with? The guy he hadn’t spoken five words to until they were paired up for this stupid assignment? Dude had a pattern. It’s not like he was about to beat Eddie up in his own house, but for a second, he really wanted to.

But then he thought about how Eddie had stepped in and offered to host when Steve’s parents told him they were having company that evening—he didn’t have to do that, and his place was even smaller than the Byers’ house. And that reminded him: Nancy was always telling him that violence should never be the first choice. Steve let out a sharp sigh. “Let me give you one,” he challenged. “If you can’t say it’s the best massage you ever had, I’ll give you fifty bucks. Dead serious.”

Eddie’d looked like he was ready to say no, but the sudden offer of cash seemed to shut him up, miraculously. He hummed. “Yeah, sure.” He held out a hand. “You have five minutes.”

“Fifteen.”

“Ten. Final offer.”

“Deal.” Steve clasped their hands together. “Sit over here.” He placed his palm on the cushion next to his.

A bark of incredulous laughter escaped Eddie. “You’re mental, dude,” he cringed. “If we’re doing this, I’m standing up.”

“Whatever,” Steve rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to be prissy about it.”

Eddie fixed him with an inscrutable look. “I’m not prissy,” he mumbled. He heaved himself onto the couch next to Steve, turning his back toward him. “I’m not prissy,” he announced again, a little louder this time. He glanced at Steve over his shoulder. “Ten minutes.”

Steve pushed his sleeve up to reveal his watch. “Okay, starting…” he watched the minute hand tick just past a Roman numeral, “now.” After an initial, very short moment of hesitation, Steve placed his hands on Eddie’s shoulders.

Eddie was tense. Steve remarked as such. “You have shit posture, too,” he commented. “That’s probably why.”

“Excuse me for slouching sometimes,” Eddie snarked. “Not all of us balanced books on our heads at Rich Baby School.”

That shut Steve up fast. Namely because he had balanced books on his head at Rich Baby School. It was actually called Worthington Day School, and he’d only gone for a summer when he was ten. Still. “Sit up straight, asshole.” He punctuated straight with a jab to Eddie’s back, right by his shoulderblade.

Two things happened. First, Eddie’s torso twisted back jerkily, his elbow nearly catching Steve’s side. Second, a choked yelp punctured the air in front of Eddie. It took Steve a second to realize Eddie actually made that sound.

Now, Steve was sometimes slow to catch on to stuff. But he’d wrestled enough guys in his life to know when he’d hit something tender. He felt a slow, devious grin take over his face. “What’s the problem, Edds?”

And that was when Steve knew he was right; when Eddie didn’t even bitch about the nickname. Instead, he seemed frozen in place.

Steve dropped his voice. “Did that tickle?” he purred. So he had a flair for drama sometimes. So what? He cracked his knuckles, just for intimidation.

Eddie finally seemed to snap out of his head. “No,” he growled, whirling around to shoot daggers at Steve. “That hurt, you dipshit; are you trying to start something? Well, two can play that g—AH!”

The satisfaction from seeing Eddie stiffen again warmed Steve’s chest. “Go on,” he cajoled, pulling his hand back from Eddie’s flank.

“Stop being a troglo—no! Steve! Wait!”

“Hm, wait for what?” Steve was aiming stray pokes at Eddie’s sides and back, pulling him down by his shirt when he tried to escape.

“I ca-HAN’T! Ahaha—Steve!” Eddie twisted in Steve’s grip and managed to break free, scrambling off of the sofa and making a run for it.

Except the trailer was small, and Steve was fast, and Eddie’s brush with freedom ended when Steve tackled him, pinning him facedown to the kitchen floor.

Panting, Eddie struggled under Steve’s weight. “Judas Christ, what the hell are you even—ow!—made of, you fucking Clydesdale?!”

Steve let out a hearty chuckle. “Pure muscle, baby,” he joked. “Comfy?”

Eddie craned to look back at him. “Do you give a shit?”

Steve grinned. “Nah.” He pressed his thumb into the spot on Eddie’s back again, wiggling slightly.

“Fuck, shit! St-ahaha, Stee-heve!” Huffy, stuttering laughter claimed Eddie’s voice as he made a blind attempt to grab the offending hands.

“You keep saying my name,” Steve taunted, holding back a laugh. “I’m right here, dude.” He started wiggling his thumb a little further out on Eddie’s back, closer to his flank.

Eddie made a choked sound before breaking into hysterics, closing a hand around Steve’s wrist to try and pull him away.

But Steve was a lot stronger and so, so much more determined. At Eddie’s failing attempt to overpower him, Steve merely snickered and vibrated all five fingers into Eddie’s ribcage.

“NO! No-no-no-ho!” Eddie’s laughter rose in pitch and he squirmed violently. He seemed to vacillate between grabbing for Steve and smacking the linoleum tile with the palm of his hand.

“Yes!” Steve countered. When Eddie’s hand came flying back again, he captured it and secured it under his knee. “Yes, no one can hear you and you can’t get away!” He tried to slot a few fingers under Eddie’s trapped arm, causing a wild shriek in the process. Steve snorted in disbelief.

He went for Eddie’s sides next, pushing into the space bracketed by his torso and arm. Steve crawled deft fingertips up and down, pinching and kneading over the faded Black Flag T-shirt as Eddie laughed uproariously. He could feel Eddie kicking out behind him, which, for some reason, made him smile.

Experimentally, Steve groped behind himself until he found the lowest part of Eddie’s thigh he could reach, and gave a few squeezes. Eddie let out a roar of laughter that seemed to shake the trailer, the lines of both legs snapping into acute angles at the knees. His heel hit Steve’s upper arm hard enough to make Steve wince. “Fuck, man, are you trying to leave marks?”

Eddie wasn’t even able to form a response. “Sto-hop-ahaha, plea-hease!” he wheezed.

Please? A self-satisfied grin curled Steve’s mouth. “Finally, some respect,” he quipped. “Bu-u-ut, you kicked me. So, tough shit.” He reached back with his other hand, palpating all the sensitive flesh he could access with Eddie’s leg in the way. He found that he could kind of move his restrained hand, so he took advantage. The result was a thrashing headful of curly hair and a scream so loud, you’d probably be able to hear it from a town over.

Steve broke into laughter. “Dude!” It wasn’t Eddie’s fault, really. Blaming him was funny, though—plus, it made him whine, which was even funnier. Steve snorted at the sound.

Eddie seemed to be struggling less and less with each passing minute. It was like he was losing steam. Feeling just a little bit guilty, Steve decided to take the opportunity to shove his free hand into a weakened Eddie’s armpit.

The sound that came out of Eddie’s mouth was awesome—a giggle-squeal combination that broke into his high register, making him wheeze. He still had Steve’s other hand trapped between his calf and thigh, but the tickling had loosened his hold. Once Steve managed to wrest his hand free, he crawled it from Eddie’s ribcage to his shoulderblade and up under his arm.

“Stee-hee-heve!” Eddie wailed. “Sta-ha-ha! Stop!”

“Hm,” Steve pretended to consider. “Say this was the best massage you’ve ever had and maybe I’ll stop.”

“No! No-ho fuh-hucking way-hay!”

Steve shrugged. “I mean, I could do this for hours.”

“NO! No, wait, wait!”

Though he didn’t outright stop, Steve lightened his touch. “Go ahead.” He nodded toward Eddie.

Around huge gasps of air, Eddie half-spoke, half-laughed, “This was—aha, wait. This was,” he began again, “the beh-hest massage I’ve—ha—ever had.”

Fair’s fair. Steve released him, kneeling over his legs as he cooled down.

“Ugh,” came muffled through long, curly hair as Eddie rolled onto his back. “I think I’m dead. Dead and in hell.”

“You think you’re going to hell—oh.” Steve hadn’t meant for that last syllable to slip out.

Eddie frowned at him. Eddie, all rosy-cheeked, panting, and tear-streaked; white teeth blinding in the fluorescent kitchen light. His hair fell in ringlets just out of the way of his deep, shining eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Steve felt his stomach flip. He stood up quickly. “Nothing. Just remembered we have a homework assignment due after break.”

Eddie groaned. “You still owe me fifty bucks. That admission was made under duress.”

“Whatever.” Steve didn’t know what half of those words meant. He extended his hand toward Eddie, and helped him to his feet. “Here’s—,” he dug his wallet out of his back pocket—, “twenty of it here, give you the rest tomorrow?”

“Choice.” Eddie pocketed the bill. “C’mon, let’s finish this stupid thing, and then I’m buying us dinner.”

Steve felt, not for the first time that night, a warmth blooming in his cheeks and chest, forcing him into another genuine smile. “Yeah, I’m in,” he said.

He’d realize—much, much later—that it was the first time in a long time he’d not felt dread at the thought of something new.

[lucitrix]

Turn Around

Scream (1996)

Platonic Sidney & Randy

Happy Holidays @spooky-switch !! Thanks for giving me an excuse to have a Scream marathon! Thanks to @squealing-santa for organising such a wonderful event yet again <3.

After what was now known as the “Woodsboro Murders” thanks to a certain Gale Weathers, Randy and Sidney often found themselves at each other’s homes. Whether talking about college plans, or watching whatever movie Randy brought from work, the two were never far from each other. Over the Christmas break, Sidney had spent a few days at the Meeks’ home, binging film after film.

Black Christmas was his choice this time, alongside his classic commentary. Sidney had once found it a bit annoying, but now it was a source of comfort. Sidney had also questioned his choice of a slasher film but was met with something she couldn’t fight with.

“The movies are nothing once you’ve been through the real thing.”

“Plus,” Randy had said, “Its arguably the first slasher, and perfect for the holiday!”

Sidney was in the kitchen, finishing up some JiffyPop, when she heard something that piqued her interest.

“Come on, what’s wrong with you?”

Taking the popcorn off the stove, she quietly poked her head into the living room. Randy sat on the couch, back to her, nearly yelling at the TV screen.

“Why would you go into the attic? And for fucks sake turn around!”

An idea blossomed in Sidney’s head. With a smile blooming on her face, she quietly crept towards the couch.

“Come on! Turn around! He’s behind you, just turn around!”

Quickly, after rolling her eyes, Sidney reached over the back of the couch, and jammed her fingers into his armpits.

Over the screech and subsequent laughter that exploded out of Randy, Sidney teasingly parroted,

“Look out! She’s right behind you Randy! Just turn around!”

From behind him, Sidney could see a blush begin to take over his ears. She clambered over the back of the couch and pushed the giggling teen onto his stomach. Straddling Randy, pinning him to the couch, her fingers gently traced over his reddening ears.

“SID WHAT-” he tried to get words out, but his laughter stopping him from being able to form any kind of sentence.

Instead he simply flailed as much as he could, twisting his head side to side, trying to shake of Sidney’s tickly nails.

            “What? Can’t follow your own rules?” Sidney retorted, leaning down to blow a loud raspberry on his neck, laughing herself at Randy nearly bucking her off.

Despite his thrashing, Randy didn’t really mind what was happening, and Sidney knew. Tickling had been a frequent part of their friendship, especially after Randy’s drunken admission a few years go. He liked the feeling, the closeness to his friends, and the laughter. Finding a reason to laugh was harder to come by.

Sidney also needed this. She loved Randy’s laugh, from giggly, to loud cackles, and if lucky, an occasional snort. She liked to see her friend smile.

Her fingers left his ears, and Randy took the second to breathe. It truly was only a second before Sidney gently spidered her fingers across his back, smiling brightly and the high-pitched giggles that flowed freely from her friend’s mouth. Gentle touches over his spine gave him time to breathe between gentle giggles, moving up closer to his neck elicited more squirming, and scribbling quickly over his ribs caused his laughter to get louder.

With a few final pinches at his sides, each followed by a screech from the boy, Sidney shuffled of Randy’s back and further down the couch.

“I hate you,” Randy finally let out, as he flipped himself slowly onto his back, no malice in his words.

“No you don’t,” Sidney followed, looking over at her friend’s bright red face.

Quick as lightning, Randy managed to get a few solid jabs to Sidney’s side, eliciting a few shocked giggles, but backed off when his hands were gently slapped away.

The two turned their attention back to the movie.

“Come on! How did she not see that coming!”

[lucitrix]

May I please req some soft lee astarion? I've had such brainrot over this man and would love to see him happy :3 (obv completely understand if not and hope u have a good day/night either way!!)

[ astarion - baldur's gate 3 ]

best way to heal a vampire with trauma: soft tickles

[lucitrix]

*blinking crusty eyes like a newborn animal* jul y ???

[lucitrix]

Also: Tickling as a stim

Stims while tickling 🤝 Stims while being tickled

[lucitrix]

being ticklish is so fun actually i love being ticklish

[lucitrix]

listen, I'm trying to avoid Barbie spoilers, but I am SO GRATEFUL for y'all posting about the tickling scene because now I have time to mentally prepare how to be ☆normal☆ about it when I go on sunday with like TEN PEOPLE.

[lucitrix]

Did you know that Lee!Doctor sketches have a healing effect?

Now you know.

[lucitrix]

lesbians? yes or no

You can never have too many lesbians. Unless, following an encounter with an iceberg, you’re on a lifeboat with a strictly limited capacity, obviously.

[lucitrix]

Gotcha (Billy/Stu)

Summary: Before enacting their plans, Billy and Stu need to be sure they’re physically fit enough to pull it all off, leading to ridiuclousness. (Based on this anonymous prompt, thank you so much for sending it in!! Warnings because there is mentions of canon-typical violence. Hope y’all enjoy the fic!! xo)

“If we’re really going to do this, we should start training,” Billy says idly, like they’re discussing running a marathon rather than a murderous plot.

Stu laughs at first, before realizing that Billy is serious. “Train? Like, go hunting?”

“No, dipshit,” he replies, but there’s a lack of venom in his voice. “Have you ever seen a movie where the victim just lays back and lets the killer stab ‘em? People are gonna fight back, and we can’t afford any mistakes.”

It’s a good point, Stu concedes, and thus begins their ridiculous regime of what he likes to call “Killer Camp”, and even though Billy rolls his eyes at the title, Stu knows he finds it funny as well.

True to its name, Woodsboro has many spots that are thick with trees and shielded by the dark of nighttime, giving them an ideal place to practice. With nothing but two flashlights and two knives, the boys set off into the forest at least once a week. It sort of feels like playing a combination of hide-and-seek and tag, except when you get caught, the other person pushes you to the ground and presses a semi-dull blade to the side of your neck.

Keep reading

[lucitrix]

poly!ghostface finding out that reader has a tickle kink 🪶🖤

stu would be immediately intrigued

he already tickles you constantly and knowing that it has the potential to get you off is super exciting to him

sure, he’s a super affectionate but he’s also super sexual, combining the two is a+++

if you wanted to tickle him, he’d be slightly more apprehensive, but eventually he’d give it a shot and ends up finding it fun!!

stu, while he has his fucked up interests, is a playful, romantic type at heart, and having giggly sex that brings you pleasure would be totally up his alley

billy is a little more on the fence at first

it feels sort of silly, childish, etc. and with his more…dark sort of fantasties, he thinks it won’t be his cup of tea

he realizes that it isn’t that far off from his usual taste, though - sure, there’s no blood or knives but he does have you helpless and squirming and pleading for mercy

which is still fun for him!!

if you wanted to dish it out, though, he’ll be super hesitant…he isn’t a big fan of being submissive (or so he thinks/wants you to think, at first, but he would slowly warm up to the idea)

[lucitrix]

woman hand hook car door

#feminism

[lucitrix]

ATTENTION ARTISTS

We are starting to plan for next year's event and one of those aspects is working with you on how to create a more nuanced criteria that is comparable to the fic writers. If you would like to participate in that process, please DM your interest!

[lucitrix]

i would die a happy man if you drew lee steve harrington

the babygirlism of steve <3

[lucitrix]

reading tickle fics before sleeping is like my little bedtime story

[lucitrix]

I was starving for content on this fandom. So I had to do at least one sketch with Elle and Emmett

so love them you know x'> ?