#ler!victor

[fluffomatic]

Well Ricky and Victor just got together in my game~ Ricky discovered a fun lil fact

(My art don't repost but please reblog)

[meegan420]

The Lorax and the Once-ler Hamsterverse

[bifacialler]

Sketches for the Tarot Desk of IO that I'm working on. I have all the Major Arcana planned for now, and will post more as I figure them out.

[pnuk-r0ck]

Ryan-Ler

[intheticklecloset]

Asta (Black Clover) Headcanons

Asta is SUCH a switch! He mostly loves tickling others and making them laugh (especially if they're usually super stoic like Yuno), but he also enjoys being tickled!

As a lee, Asta doesn't usually struggle too much - he'll kick and squirm and roll around but never really try to get away until his ler(s) find a good spot.

He's obviously super strong and could escape or retaliate if he wanted to, but Asta never uses his strength to overpower someone else when they're just messing around. Even in tickle fight scenarios, he'll only fight back long enough to either slip away or pin someone else down for a fair chance at making them laugh, too - never to dominate or be the victor all the time.

His laugh is super loud, which is to be expected! He's mostly giggly and a little whiny until a good spot is tickled, at which point he'll burst into laughter and start begging, even if he doesn't necessarily mean it until he's been tickled for a little while and starts to wear out.

Asta loves tickle fights! He especially loves having them with Yuno and his Black Bulls family! It's a kind of bonding thing for him - like a love language, but not really romantic. He just likes playing around and showing affection, and being shown affection in return.

As a ler, Asta is really playful. He loves to tease and giggle along with his lee and just generally have a good time while ensuring his lee has a great time, too.

He NEVER tickles someone if they hate it, or aren't in the mood. Boundaries and consent are very important to him.

He also almost never tickles someone's worst spot just for the sake of making them screech with laughter. If he's going for a bad spot, he has an ulterior motive! Making someone admit something, getting them to give in to a playful demand, etc. That's not to say he doesn't love tickling people's worst spots - he just doesn't tend to go for them when he's only messing around.

Asta is almost overly attentive with aftercare, making sure his lee is okay, that they can breathe, do they need water? Etc. In terms of receiving aftercare, he's content to just have his hair ruffled and move on with the conversation.

[no-wings-no-angel]

nao acredito que eu parei de ler frankenstein aos 14 anos pq ficava deprimida dms, mas agora lendo de novo as primeiras cartas eu só consigo pensar puta que pariu o sr framing device capitão robert walton é gay e quer o victor frankenstein carnalmente

[theoncelersboyfriend]

a commission and a few fan-arts from my friends on tg ! ^^

vinceler/victorler nation grows up🔝🔝🔝

redrawing once-ler's and victor's references rn, they will be posted very soon ! (hopefully...)

fanarts are always appreciated *wink wink* :3

[gigglycharm]

Night Tickling

Pairing: Lee!scara , Ler!aether

Summary: Scara agrees to become Aether's tickle subject for the night. But, he doesn't realize how ticklish he is, and how good Aether is at making him laugh...

Word Count: 1.6k

-

"Aether?"

Scaramouche's breaths were shallow. Every second that went by was a second that could be used to wreck him, he thought. Why the hell did he agree to this?

"Scara?" Aether replied, seemingly mocking the trembling boy. He held the boy's waist with his hands, his slender fingers wrapped perfectly around his body. His thumbs were planted right beside Scara's belly button, with his other eight fingers carefully placed on his spine. The blond had to fight the urge to just destroy Scara right then and there. He knew that even just a small squeeze of his hand - and the boy would be begging for mercy... It was pitiful, really.

But, he didn't. He wanted to tease Scara into a fit of giggles, he wanted to see his face turn red while his fingers created a type of sound you'd only hear once in a blue moon - laughter!

Scara had squeezed his eyes shut long before Aether had sensually grasped his waist, but he opened one eye with caution so that he could see how Aether would react when he asked, "Can you move somewhere else?"

Can you move somewhere else? Oh, he'd fucked up. The Traveler was in a sadistic mood tonight. And since he had Scara restrained—which was all Scara's idea—he certainly wasn't going to let the other think that he could just ask and expect for Aether to comply. "You want me to move somewhere else, Scaramouche?"

Scara shut his opened eye and flinched, feeling Aether's thumb caress the soft skin beside his navel. That damned thumb rubbed all the right places, sliding up and down, just like a windshield wiper. After Aether saw that he'd flinched, he slid the other thumb up and down, slowly, yet horribly deep. The two fingers had sunken down into the belly of Scara, who was biting his lip. Aether's fingernails assisted the ticklish sensation that sparked like wildfire.

"Fuck-" Scara mumbled under his breath. Not a second afterward, Aether inched his left thumb closer to his belly button, letting the fingers that sat on his spine gently slither around the width of his waistline. Scara laid his head back and clenched his hands into fists, impatiently awaiting his fate. He wouldn't have to wait much longer, though.

Aether suddenly jammed his thumb into Scara's navel, wiggling it around inside the ticklish hole. Scara's mouth opened and a blood-curling yelp came out, followed by a series of laughs, which sounded like howling. He shook his hips, which were being held down underneath Aether's body weight. Aether's bottom was sat on Scara's thighs, leaving most of his upper body immobile. The (comfortable) cuffs around his wrists had taken care of his hands and arms, but his head could still shake and twist around as much as it wanted.

"Oh shihit!- Aether, naha, quit ihit! Fuhuck!-" Scara fought his laughter as hard as he could, but in the end, Aether's thumb was the victor. It made Scara kick his feet, which didn't go very far because of the (comfortable) cuffs that also surrounded his ankles. He just had to lie there and receive all of the ticklish feelings that Aether was prepared to inflict upon him.

"Belly button, check. I didn't know that such a small spot could be so sensitive.~" Aether slid his thumb out of the other boy's navel. He gently pulled Scara's body upward, while moving his head to meet it. He placed his lips right beneath the ticklish sweet spot and blew. He blew as hard as he could, while still giving Scara a feeling of delicate ticklishness. He nearly screamed when Aether did this. It felt like he was being tickled everywhere on his body for some reason, or maybe it was just how ticklish his navel was that made him feel this way. After all, Aether still had his hands wrapped around his waist, but he wasn't doing anything especially tickly.

When the blond released his body of the ticklish feeling, Scara was practically gasping for air. His breaths grew deeper, but just went shallower just like before, every time Aether tricked him. By 'tricked him', I mean every time he pressed a singular finger from the row of fingers on his spine. He played Scara like a piano, pressing down an individual finger every time he heard him make a noise. His back was pretty ticklish, but not ticklish enough. Aether craved more laughter.

"You'd better be glad I'm so nice, Scara.~ I'll let you decide where I travel next." Aether stared into Scaramouche's eyes with an evil glimmer in his own. Scara could tell that this predicament he found himself in had only just begun. He took a deep inhale, then exhaled audibly. "Do I have to choose? Is there any way we could stop this here? Aether, please..."

"Pfft!- You're adorable. You know you love this, sweetheart." Aether leaned in closer to Scara's face, feeling his heavy breathing full-on. He returned the favor, breathing heavily into Scara's face. "Quit it!" Scara exclaimed, dodging the hot breath. "And don't call me that. I'm not your sweetheart."

Aether snapped back, "Then what are you? My ticklish sweetheart?" He watched as Scara squirmed. He enjoyed watching him wriggle around like a worm, his face growing redder and redder by the second. "I'll make you a deal. Okay?" Aether had decided to have mercy - that is if Scara accepted his offer.

"What's the deal?" Scara snarkily replied. This almost made Aether want to call it off, but he didn't. Mostly because he knew that Scara would accept the deal and lose. He'd rather let Scara be tickled to his breaking point on his own loss, not by Aether's pettiness. "If you can withstand one full minute of tickling, I'll let you go."

"I think you forget that I can escape whenever I please. I'm doing this to make you happy, Aether. Don't forget that." Scara growled. He knew this remark would have consequences, but didn't care at the moment. If he was being honest with himself, this tickling and teasing weren't all that bad... He actually may have been slightly enjoying it.

Aether was taken aback. His position of 'dominance', if you will, was completely stolen. How would he get it back? He'd get it back by watching Scara beg for mercy. "You'll regret that." He muttered. And then, he dragged his fingertips up Scara's ribcage, inching closer and closer to his exposed armpits. Scaramouche shivered, becoming more and more worried by Aether's skilled fingers.

"Aether! What aha-about me choosing where you tickle?" He was really hoping that Aether would let him choose, even after his smart-ass comments. Aether smirked and replied, "You think you deserve that choice? Because I don't think you do."

"Yaha!- Yes, I do!" Scara whined. It was pathetic, Aether thought. He let out a slight chuckle at the sight of Scara in such a submissive position. It was quite unusual... But, he enjoyed it nonetheless. He examined every expression the boy made as his fingers slowly dragged upward, bumping over each individual rib, saying hello and goodbye to his nipples, and eventually reaching that special spot beneath his arms. Ten fingers were sat politely underneath his arms and with no warning, attacked. Aether's fingers scribbled and squiggled like a child with crayons, tickling every centimeter of Scara's armpits. The boy's brain became mush and he had no time to bite his tongue or do anything to make the tickling less effective. He just had to take it—those speedy fingers wiggling everywhere they could, pausing every few seconds then continuing, just to remind Scara that Aether could tickle him whenever he pleased.

"Gosh, who knew that you could be so ticklish?!~" Aether cooed, quickening the pace of his fingers. While Scara was about to reply with a handful of chortles and a loud 'Fuck you', Aether had removed his fingers from his armpits. It was only a second of relief from Scara. Because now, Aether had planted two thumbs into both of the pit's hollows, circularly massaging the sensitive skin. It was a change in pace but somehow was even worse than the ten fingers fiddling around all over. "You wanna laugh, don't you? Go ahead, Scara."

Scaramouche wasn't obeying Aether. If he had the power to hold back the laughter he was now about to release, he would. But, he didn't. So here he was, giving Aether all the satisfaction in the world knowing that Scara had done what he'd said... There was nothing in the world that was worse than that, he thought.

"Aeheh-Aether puhuhulease, stop!" Scara could barely form full words, let alone full sentences. It sounded like he was being tickled to hell and back. The tickle monster that lived in hell wasn't there today, though. He was sitting on Scara's waist and whispering 'Citchie citchie coo~' right into his ear!

Aether wasn't taking any suggestions about when he should quit tickling Scara. He could sit there until morning, teasing and tickling him all over. But, he was getting quite tired... Both of them were, actually. Aether pulled his thumbs out of Scara's armpits and uncuffed his wrists and ankles. The now unrestrained boy laid there for a moment, catching his breath.

Aether crawled back onto his waist, making Scara gasp. Was he going to go for a round two? He closed his eyes, then felt two hands gently hold his neck, and shortly afterward two lips softly melted into his own. He opened his eyes to see Aether, cute as can be, and returned the kiss with a bit more passion.

The night ended with Aether and Scara cuddling, Scara sneakily poking the blond boy's sides every so often for revenge. Aether would have pinned him right back down and forced him into a ball of giggles, but he had mercy and endured it. After all, it was worth it to see Scara fall asleep in his arms. He rubbed his head and fell asleep, glad that such a cute boy was in his life.

[sallage]

An Unexpected Fight

The Unexpected Fight Series

Part 1

Warning: This is a tickle fic!

Summary: After "Winning" the sports festival years ago, Bakugo saw an opportunity to redeem himself in a student organized 1v1 circuit, where he faces off against Aya.

Pairing: Lee Bakugo, Ler Aya

Words: 5,510

Reading Time: 22 Minutes

A/N: Here is it! Part 1 of The Unexpected Fight series! I will admit, it was hard to rewrite this one and I'm not satisfied with it, but hopefully the rest will fall into place. Enjoy!

Read more ∘₊✧ Here ✧₊∘

A malicious grin slithered across Bakugo’s face.

His eyes flashed across his challenger, who was seated on a bench deep in thought. Her hands were in her lap and she seemed to be entirely focused on what she was doing, eyes closed in quiet meditation.

Bakugo was currently taking part in a student organized 1v1 circuit, particularly because of his “victory” at the sports festival from years ago. Each class was competing separately, and the winners of their respective groups would fight one another in a series of battles until only a single victor remained. As the blonde who had defeated his class was now getting ready to fight the other winners, Bakugo could not be bothered to even remember the name of the victor currently fucking around on the bench. He stood and waited for the match to start, not particularly concerned with whatever trick this feeble-looking woman could pull.

Bakugo exhaled a confident and arrogant scoff, doing a side lunge to loosen up and prepare for the upcoming fight. His thoughts were filled with various combat strategies, trying to decide on the best course of action for a quick victory. 

“Kacchan!” 

Bakugo's mood immediately shifted when he heard a familiar, shrill voice slither into his ears and knock around annoyingly inside his head. From the corner of his eye, his gaze landed on Deku, who was racing toward him like a green bat out of hell.

 “Hey, Kacchan! I know you’re busy getting ready, but I wanted to tell you something about-” 

Bakugo huffed obnoxiously, not bothering to hide a twisted and annoyed expression. “You think you can tell me something I don’t already know, nerd? Take a hike.” 

“But it’s about Aya’s quirk, you’re not going to expect-“

“I know a hell of a lot more than you, Deku! I don’t give a shit about what your damn strategies are! Fuck off.” 

Deku didn’t move. Instead, he rubbed the side of his arm anxiously. Bakugo’s eyes locked on the nervous movement like a shark, growing one hundred times more impatient with each passing second. He could tell that Deku was debating on either insisting or letting it go, probably mumbling up a fucking storm in his own head As much as Bakugo would have loved to watch the nerd explode from overloading his own mind, he just didn’t have the time.

“Well, hurry up and spit it out if you’re just going to fucking stand there. I don’t got all day!”

Deku looked back up at him and before he could lose his nerve, he came right out and asked. “A-are you still ticklish? Like from when we were kids?”

Bakugo froze. He would have cracked his neck if he whirled on Deku any faster than he did. “Huh? What the hell kind of question is that?”

Deku bit his lip, already regretting his approach. “It’s not- I mean, if you are-”

“Shut up.” Bakugo smoothly rose from the stretch and strolled up to Deku, getting in his face. “I grew out of that childish shit ages ago, got it? Now get the hell out of here before I blast you for wasting my time!”

“Kacchan please, I-its important- I mean, I just found out-“ 

“I’m not gonna say it again!” Bakugo grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. “Take the hint, you moron! Get lost!” Bakugo gave Deku a firm shove, not enough to knock him down, but enough to get his point across. Midoriya stumbled and stared at Bakugo with wide eyes filled with irritation, gripping his own fists tightly in anger.

“Fine.” Deku closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again. His emerald orbs softened into an expression that Bakugo almost didn’t recognize.

Pity.

“Good luck, Kacchan.”

With that, Deku turned and walked away.

Bakugo maintained a steady, unyielding gaze as Deku left, irritated that he had been pulled away from his preparations by such a weird and unnecessary distraction. He returned to his routine, pushing out Deku's interruption and any impact it had on his train of thought. Finally, a pair of ringing chimes alerted him to the start of the battle, at which point Bakugo confidently stepped onto the designated platform, his body filled with the vibrant energy and thrumming anticipation.

He stared at Aya from across the arena, his expression shifting to annoyance as he spotted her small frame and emotionless stare. Her curly hair coiled past her shoulders like winding trails of black smoke that rise from flames. Her cinnamon hued skin was riddled with healed over scars and trauma, one particularly curious one started at the back of her ear, wrapped down the front of her neck, and disappeared with a winding stretch underneath the collar of her shirt. Her eyes were wide and golden brown, like the afternoon sun shining through a glass of whiskey. 

He gave her one of his maniacal smiles. “You sure you wanna do this?” He unfurled his fist, letting powerful explosions slip through the cracks of his clawed hands, but his overcooked smugness faded slightly when her eyes refocused on his.

In one second, he felt the dynamic of the entire fight shift.

The vivid brown in her eyes disappeared, completely eclipsed in black, shining in the darkened emptiness of her pupils like a dying star before its collapse. There was something mischievous behind them that Bakugo couldn’t grasp, like an inside joke between friends that he wasn’t in on. Alarm bells instantly clambered around inside his head as he now began to question what the hell her quirk was. 

Shit

Ding!

Without hesitation, he used an explosion to propel himself into the air, before angling his body and firing himself downwards like a missile. The force generated from the blasts carried him forward with incredible speed, aimed directly towards her. With his extended hand, Bakugo launched a rapid barrage of explosions and without pausing to see if any of the blasts hit, he landed back on the ground with a heavy THUNK, and triggered one final explosion, causing the arena to tremble and shake with a deafening boom. The ground underfoot cracked and splintered from the force of the blast, and the heat generated by the explosion lingered briefly, filling the area with a fiery glow. Sparks and smoke covered the entire battle field, but through the thickness of it, he frowned. Lifting his hand from the lose ground, he looked at it, then looked around, dumbfounded.

She fucking dodged it. 

How the hell-

“Pssst.” A whisper behind him made him start. 

He whirled, but she leaned back, avoiding his sparking fist. She took advantage of his momentum and pushed his shoulder with the flow of the punch, causing him to stumble and flop onto his back. Bakugo let out a frustrated growl, quickly getting back onto his feet with a swift hop.

Aya stood in front of him, hands casually slung in the pockets of a hoodie she pulled over her uniform. Her eyes were half closed, sporting a bored and uninterested look. She waved away the smoke in her face, eyes locking on Bakugo.

He snarled. “You’re dead, freak.” 

He raised his arm. Explosions popped and flashed brightly through the smoke, lighting up the foggy area like a chaotic, flickering light show. He was about to end the fight in less than a minute when he suddenly gasped and slammed his arm by his side, the explosions in his hand dissipating in a cloud of black smoke. As quick as the feeling came, it disappeared. Keeping Aya in his sights, he quickly searched for anything that may have caused the unusual tingling sensation he felt under his arm.

The corner of Aya’s lip tugged upward.

Bakugo gifted her with a dirty look through narrowed eyes. Lifting his arm, he prepared to shoot out explosions again, but just before they started, he felt that strange, tingling sensation again, only this time it was more intense, like a worm or something was wiggling wildly against his armpit while fingers were spidering and poking down to his ribs. He shouted in startled surprise and shoved his arm hard against his side, his second hand automatically reaching under his arm to grasp whatever that was. Once more, he felt nothing, and his grip closed around empty air.

“The hell?” Bakugo looked himself over before his gaze fell on Aya. She tilted her head to the side and raised her eyebrows, an expression that read, "Do you get it yet?" 

“What the hell's going on here?" Bakugo's voice conveyed an obvious and palpable sense of frustration.

Aya's unbothered expression and overall demeanor could only be described as casually smug. She stood there with her hands in her pockets, treating the situation like it was nothing special, in a way that only added to Bakugo's frustration and growing embarrassment.

“Give up.”

Bakugo’s eyes grew wide. “What?”

“Surrender. Cry uncle, whatever you prefer.” Despite her neutral expression and tone, Aya's confidence rivaled Bakugo's, a show of strength and assurance that the mysterious girl held her own against the explosive fighter. “Give up.”

Bakugo huffed in disbelief and slowly assumed his classic fighting stance. “If you think I’m giving up without a fight,” He lit up explosions from both of his hands this time. “Then you’re dummer then you look, you frizzy headed freak!”

Her expression never changed, as if his insults were nothing but whispers in the wind.

“Why are you still standing there?” Bakugo gathered his explosives. “Fight me!”

This time, he changed up his strategy, releasing the explosions before his arms even moved, shooting them above his head, and chucking them toward her. Each explosion was condensed and rapid, flying at her with speeds faster than anyone could blink. The concentrated blasts would be impossible to block, and should cause her to be thrown back and knocked off her feet. 

The arena quickly filled with smoke as a few rushed and rouge explosions crashed to the ground, causing smoke to billow upwards and obscure his view. Bakugo was just about to blast himself over to Aya to deal the final blow, only to pause after seeing her clear some of the smoke with a causal wave. She was exactly as she was before, with the only difference being her slight movement to the right.

Right when their eyes locked, his surprise was cut short by the sensations that washed over him, causing him to nearly choke as he gasped and clutched his abdomen. His eyes widened as he stared down at his stomach, which felt as if a pack of fingernails were lightly scrabbling up and down on the surface of his skin, beneath his clothing. He grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled it to the side, revealing nothing but the smoothness of his skin and the groves of his abs. Even so, the sensations persisted. Bakugo's eyes flashed to Aya, where she gave a knowing, condescending nod.

Bakugo cursed, feeling a new sense of urgency as the reality of the situation quickly sank in. Aya's quirk seemed to possess the power to manipulate his nerves or his brain, to the point of inducing physical sensations that were not actually there. It was as if his sense of reality had been hijacked. The sensations on his stomach grew stronger, the nails slowly and interchangeably scratching at his skin expanded outwards, teasing the waistline of his pants and the sides of his toned belly. He clenched his hands into fists and his face twitched.

Instead of giving him a dignifying fight, she was playing with him.

This is exactly what Deku was trying to tell him. 

That puny bastard.

Aya noticed his mind working. She raised her eyebrows and nodded slightly towards the small crowd trying to gaze through the smoke, silently asking him if he truly wanted to go through with this in front of everyone.

Bakugo bared his teeth. “Listen here, if you don’t wanna get fucked up-”

Aya put her hand up. "You're out of your league here. Give up and I wont embarrass you.” 

Bakugo froze, his mouth set in a sneer as he stood firm in the face of Aya's challenge. There was no way he could give up, especially before anything even happened. Bakugo tried to recall the last time he was tickled, the memory bringing him all the way back to elementary school. He knew that he might still be a little ticklish, but enough to become incapacitated and unable to fight? He highly doubted it. The whole concept sounded incredibly ridiculous to him and it brought the confidence that he needed back to his face in the from of a cocky smile. If this hag was going to try to tickle him into giving up, she had another thing coming. 

As the crowd waited patiently for visualization to return, Bakugo lit up some more explosions in his hands, finding strength in his confidence.

“That kindergarten bullshit doesn’t work on me, but you can fucking try!” Bakugo blasted himself upwards, rising high above Aya to create space between them. He hoped that the distance would make it harder for her to use the quirk so if anything, he could take her out from the air. That plan was immediately thwarted when he felt a flurry of light finger scratches scraping rapidly against his sides. He growled and sent another barrage of explosive blasts down towards her, trying to push her back and give himself time to figure out how to gain the upper hand. Distance didn’t work, so maybe-

“AH!” 

A sudden burst of fingers rubbing, scribbling, and squeezing in his armpits forced an unrestrained squawk out of him, causing him to abruptly halt his ascent to shove his hands under his arms. It felt like there were three hands in each armpit, One set of thumbs kneading torturously at the bottom, another set of fingers scribbling endlessly in the center, and another hitting an impossible angle right at the top tendon where his bicep connected with the top rim of his underarms. Each hand rotated spots and techniques, maintaining a constant and inconsistent method. Caught off guard by the sheer numbers and intensity, Bakugo folded in on himself, elbows clamped to his sides. Choked laughter hiccuped in his throat, and even high in the air where no one could hear him, he struggled not to make a sound. His eyes widened when the fingers suddenly grew nails, causing him to go back on his pledge and splutter, his mind momentarily overwhelmed by the sensations of manicure-inspired torment.

As the ground grew closer, his chances of landing safely rapidly declined. The initial attack subsided halfway through his fall, but each time he lifted his arms to take control of it, the tickling would start again and he’d be forced to slam his arms back down. Finally, he had no choice but to keep his arms up and as he did so, a harsh and rapid squeezing sensation from all three sets of hands caused him to accidentally launch himself past his desired landing spot and across the field with a loud bark of laughter.

Bakugo slammed into the ground, his back taking the brunt of the impact. He had no time to pick himself back up before he felt the nails and fingers of Aya's quirk scribbling against his neck, collarbones, and even his shoulders. The sensation wasn’t nearly as strong as before, but with each scratch and scribble, he felt goosebumps spread along his skin. He rubbed at his neck as he stood, but the effort was useless. He groaned in frustration, stretching out his shoulder in time to see Aya, who had taken the small trip to meet him at the corner of the field. 

—

Izuku watched with concern as the smoke from Kacchan’s explosions continued to shroud the fight between he and Aya. Even though Kacchan acted like a total jerk, Izuku still felt the need to protect him. Midoriya didn't think it would be easy trying to warn the angry blonde about Aya, but he didn't imagine it would be that difficult. After receiving insider information from one of Aya’s classmates, he raced to find his childhood friend, hoping he could at least get a few words in before being kicked out or ignored completely. Unfortunately, he was hardly able to get a few words out before the other hit his boiling point. 

The warning had been given to the best of his ability, and that was all Midoriya could hope for at that point.

Aya's personality was well-suited to her quirk, which specialized in the manipulation of physical sensations, allowing her to impose and replicate almost any kind of sensory feeling on anyone she could lay her eyes on. Her quirk, coupled with her lack of empathy and remorse, unpleasant upbringing, and strong distrust of anyone she meets, made her a very scary and dangerous person to face.

Aya knew that her quirk, while powerful and insidious, would not be allowed in the tournament without some degree of restriction, as openly torturing students into resigning using pain and bodily harm was grounds for disqualification. Her creativity and outside-the-box thinking allowed her to find a whole new way to play, one that would prove incredibly effective. Her creativity and resourcefulness paid off, allowing her to beat her class and take the crown through her unique, unorthodox, and innovative use of her quirk. 

“AH!”

Suddenly there was a break in the mist. Izuku’s head tilted up, watching as his friend clamped his elbows to his sides and doubled over, face scrunched in effort. Midoriya bounced his leg impatiently when Kacchan let himself fall right back down. 

He sighed. 

No matter how the blonde treated him, he still wanted to see him succeed.

—

“Bastard!” 

Bakugo struggled to contain his sounds of discomfort, biting the inside of his cheek to maintain control over his twitchy reactions. The fingernails were beginning to spread out, from his neck and shoulders, down to his chest. He felt them teasingly brush over his pecks, the outer edge of his underarms and the inner sides of his ribs near his stomach, sending violent shivers down his spine. He held back the impulse to slap and claw at his body, feeling like there were bugs ticklishly crawling around underneath his shirt. He flinched when he felt fingers start to lightly and tentatively, intermittently squeeze his lower ribs and scratch at the edges of his belly.

“Y-You scared to actually fight or something? Ss-stop this stupid shit!”

Aya shook her head like she was disappointed. “Give up.”

He would rather die.

“Fuck off.” He sneered. His body was stiff with effort, and he closed his hands into tight fists. He cursed himself for not even being able to keep his arms up long enough for an accurate blast, or to save himself from a fall. Unless he wanted to become a blabbering incoherent mess on the floor, He needed to think of something.

His thoughts were interrupted by a harsh squeeze to his flanks, to which he reacted with a closed mouth groan and a quick bend to the side. “Fuck you! This is what you use your lame ass quirk for? Did the others tap out because you bored them into it? How the hell did you get this far with this weak shit? I’ll kill you and throw your damn head in the ocean.”

Aya’s amusement faded. “Last chance.”

“Fuck you and your chaAH!”

Bakugo spluttered and contorted his face into a pain induced expression, biting his cheek so hard, he tasted blood. He pushed harsh air through clenched teeth and pursed lips as he felt thumbs digging into his hips, rubbing the bone in agonizing circles. He felt stupid little girl giggles building up in the back of his throat but he quickly swallowed it. The worst part was having to stand there as it was happening, the blonde refusing to move and show any kind of weakness as he was getting the shit tickled out of him. He moved his arm slightly to the side, hoping to sneak a small explosion that would at least create some distance between them, but the flurry of tickles attacked his armpits again causing him to yell out and shove his elbows against his sides once more. Aya rolled her eyes at his efforts.

Bakugo was running out of options, and he realized that he couldn't just stand there and let Aya control the fight. He had to make a move. Quicker than she could react, he raised both arms, this time keeping them up when the flurry of fingers attacked, and blasted a sloppy round of explosions towards her, squeezing out a only few small, concentrated rounds before a crushing sensation closed in around his neck, like a steel bar randomly dropped on it. He stumbled backwards, hand gripping his throat before he tripped and fell hard on his back. As soon as his back hit the ground, the feeling on his neck lightened, but he felt his arms and legs prickle and give out, as if they had fallen asleep. He tried to move his arms, but it felt like they lost their integrity, only twitching in response.

Aya walked into his field of vision, a red and angry looking welt shone on her leg, shoulder, and chest, the wounds looking considerably bad under her singed clothes. Bakugo’s eyes flashed with recognition. 

He finally fucking hit her! “I hope that stings, hag.” He hissed.

 The look on Aya’s face went dark. "You're lucky we're not somewhere else, or I'd really be torturing you."

Her face twitched and Bakugo felt his limbs grow heavier, as if they were made of led. He grunted and struggled, able to buck his hips, move his elbows and knees, but even with a tremendous amount of effort, his arms and shins only lifted slightly. 

He grunted. “What the actual-” 

She leaned over him, so her face was directly above his. Her eyes were as black as they appeared, soulless and deep. A few drops of blood leaked from her shoulder, dripping down next to Bakugo’s head. 

She clenched her jaw, eyes flashing with sadism. “I’m not going to stop until you piss yourself or pass out.” 

Bakugo only had one second to register that sentence before hell unleashed on his body. 

He screamed as an immediately intense ticklish sensation bloomed on his stomach. It felt like fingers, nails, and brushes were all attacking him at the same time. The nails scratched at the top of his stomach right underneath his ribs, each individual finger nail on two hands scratching in small circles, following the downward slope of his ribs.

Another pair of hands scratched and kneaded his abs, using deviously sharp nails to trace and outline the prominent groves. Two nails, one on each side, scratched that horribly sensitive spot right at the corners of his stomach where it connected to his sides.

Fingers squeezed the area at his lower belly right above the waist line of his pants, hitting a sweet spot directly above his hips. Brushes scrubbed torturously on the pads of his abs and on his outer stomach, a rouge pair venturing out to tease his sides and slip over towards his back. The brushes that left the pack, used the very tips of their nonexistent bristles to tease his lower back at the spot where they connected to the outer part of his flanks. Even worse, the sensation spread without respite to the source, winding about in unholy circles. One small nail circled around his belly button, occasionally dipping into it to scratch at the inner walls at random.

He was able to hold still for for all of one second.

Bakugo slammed his head back against the ground so hard, his vision doubled. His shoulders lifted as much as they could from the ground and he shook his head back and forth. His face grew red and his eyes squinted shut. His breathing escalated and he pushed it out in one long breath, punctuating the last few seconds of it in an animalistic growl. His reaction was majorly grunts, curses and growls, the occasion shout and laugh disguised as a cough when the any of them honed in on a sweet spot. No matter how hard he pressed his back into the ground, the brushed persisted.

“FffffFFFFfffffFFHFHFHFHFFFFF-” 

Aya’s eyebrows rose mockingly in a surprised look. “Hm. That technique usually has everyone kicking and screaming.”

“MMMGGGHHH!”

Bakugo was sweating. The tickling he felt all over his stomach and lower back never dulled or tapered off. It stayed consistent, seeking out the worst spots to focus on. A pair of nails found that the jelly fishing technique at the center of his stomach made him writhe. A set of brushes found that interchangeably poking their bristles underneath and along the waistline of his pants made him buck. A pair of hands found that dragging their long nails slowly up his sides while wiggling them slightly made him desperately try to pull his body upwards, so they did that over and over and over again. His twitching and head banging evolved into bucking and desperate pulls at his limbs as the sentient and bogus tickle tools learned more about his body and manipulated it. He had never felt anything this torturous in his life, and God, he wanted it to stop.

And it only got worse.

Bakugo’s body seized when he felt fingers start to climb his ribs. The urgency in his struggling increased, involuntary yelps and muffled laughs slipping past his tight lips. He arched his back and spluttered, losing his composure more and more with each rung the fingers climbed. He pushed his head up so he could look down at his body. His eyes darted over the exact spots he was being tormented, but there was nothing to show for it. He tried again to move his arms, the effort monumental and pointless.

“FFFHMHMHMHMHM!” 

Aya was saying something, but he couldn’t hear any of it over the war he was fighting.

The fingers suddenly switched up. Instead of scratching, they started rubbing and kneading into the bottom half of his ribs, causing him to jolt and buck. Giggles escaped freely in the form of closed mouth humming, occasionally slipping through the cracks in his lips in the form of pained laughter. Aya leaned in closer, her small fingers wrapping themselves around Bakugo's wrists. With a slow and delicate movement, she lifted his hands up and positioned them by his head, his fingers twitching as he tried to resist. He realized that Aya did this not because she needed access, but just to make him feel as exposed and as vulnerable as possible. He hated himself for how well it worked.

Then he felt three pairs of hands attack his armpits. 

His mouth and eyes shot open, appearing as if he was laughing even before the sound came out.

“FFFFFFFFFFAHAHAHAHAK! AHH! AHAH!  FAHAKING SHIHIT! GAHA- GAHAHAD DAMN IHIHIHIT! NAHAHAHA STAHAHAHAP!”

Aya nodded. “Thats more like it.”

With his arms strained from the constant pressure he was exerting on them, Bakugo felt the fingers pressing and rotating into the grooves of his ribs, following the bones all the way to his back. He began to flail and thrash, bucking his hips and shifting his body from side to side. Bouncing his knees and flapping his elbows. Bakugo knew he looked absolutely ridiculous, he didn't care at this point.

“WAIT WHAIT WAHAHAHAHAHAHIHI- AHH! OHHOO MY- GAHH! WHAHAT THE FAHAHAHAK IS THAHAHA?!” 

He felt hundreds of thin fuzzy tentacles slither under his shirt, caressing his twitching body and hitting the little spots the fingers and brushes weren’t focused on. He felt them slither over his entire back, hitting a largely sensitive spot underneath his shoulder blades, running up his spine, squirming on the back of his neck, and wiggling over his collarbones. He felt them slither maddeningly over his flanks, making him buck and throw his weight around. He jolted hard when he felt arms wrap around him from behind and slowly massage his upper ribs. Bakugo shook his head rapidly, voice cracking when the hands used four finger to start a light massage dangerously close to his death spot. 

He was in hysterics, so when he literally felt hands slip underneath the waistband of his pants to attack his bare hips and thighs, he immediately dissolved into silent laughter. The fingers dug into his firm thighs, his laughter reaching soprano levels when they squeezed his inner thighs. Thumbs kneaded right into the crease where his legs bent into his hips, and another pair of thumbs drilled into the tendons that connects his inner thighs to his crotch. 

It was maddening. He tried to squeeze his legs together, tried to pull down his arms, tried to protect his back, but he couldn’t. The moment his feet came under attack was when his laughter turned silent for the second time.

Brushes scrubbed up and down his soles, while another pair scrubbed the tops. Each toe had its own pair of mini brushes as did the balls of his feet. The fuzzy tentacles swarmed all over and around, slinking in between his toes and wrapping around them like toe separators to constantly nuzzle back and forth, occasionally reaching down to attack the stems and upper balls of his feet.

Bakugo no longer cared about winning. The constant teasing and mocking he would undoubtedly have to endure for giving in was the farthest thing from his mind. He just wanted out; he needed it to stop.

Black smoke rose from his hands, but he was too hysterical to notice.

“GAAAHAHAHAHAHA! AAAHAHAH! OHOH- O-OHOHOHOHKAHA- OHOHOHKAY! FUCKINGOKAY STAHAHAHAHAHA!” 

But she didn’t. She didn’t even speak. He opened his eyes, but was blinded by tears.

 “I’m not going to stop until you piss yourself or pass out.” 

There’s no fucking way she actually meant that. No fucking way.

The torture didn’t cease.

“AH! NO! SHIT SHIHIHIT SHIT! NO!” 

The fingers massaging his upper ribs finally slipped into the little space below his armpits and right above his ribs. 

His mind went blank.

“NONONONAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! HAHHAH AHAH! NOHOHOHHOT THAHAHAHA- GAAAHAHAHAHAD! PAHAHAHAHAH- PLEHEHEHAHAHAHAHA- I CAHANT! I CAHANT FUCKING- NAAHAHAHAHA! STAHAHHAHAHAHP! GEHEHEHT OOAHAHAHAHAHFF, YOU BIHIHIHIHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Tears flowed down his face like rainwater over river rocks. The additional, continuous tickling behind his knees, along with another pair of hands squeezing his death spot proved to be too much for his already overloaded mind to bear. A massive explosion surprised them both, completely overwhelming and blinding him even through his closed eyelids. 

The release of the overwhelming torture was like a building being lifted off his chest. He took in the air greedily, sucking in breaths as if he had just done a twenty-foot dive into the lake. He rolled to his hands and knees, the suddenness of it all was enough to make him feel dizzy and sick. The area around him was covered in soot, and the ground was blackened and flat.

Suddenly, he caught a glimpse of Aya and did not hesitate, immediately chucking a large explosion at her. She dodged it, twirling and dodging with ease as her eyes turned to focus on him.

NO!

Bakugo braced himself, but nothing happened. His eyebrows furrowed as he watched her frantically try to wave away a cloud of smoke that wafted in front of her.

His jaw dropped.

Before he could think of the entire plan, he locked eyes in Aya’s direction and aimed his palms to the ground in front of her. He let out a series of explosions and a thick smoke screen swirled around both of them. 

Bakugo couldn’t even see his hand in front of his face.

He charged towards Aya, using his explosions to create a cover of smoke. Before she could see him again, he barreled into her, both of them falling to the ground. Aya got up first, and desperately tried to wave away the smoke around them, her eyes searching for him. However, Bakugo had already built up a huge blast of energy, aimed right at her chest. The explosion knocked her backwards and she slammed violently into one of the benches at the side of the arena. When the smoke partially cleared, Bakugo saw that she continued to lay there.

Unconscious.

He won.

The arena was silent, before loud applause and cheers filled the room in celebration. However, he was in no mood to accept praise. With his hands resting in his pockets, he turned away from the few students gathered near the entrance, heading to the door. As he walked out, he could see his classmates seated just a few feet away, Deku in the middle as the rest cheered and clapped. Bakugo's expression blank, completely numb. His body was weak and tired, and it was all he could do to remain standing and make his way back towards the dorms.

˚ · • . ° .

Part 2

[tenetikles]

would you consider doing lee!yuri, ler!victor art?

[fluffomatic]

Soooo, are you shocked? I knew I wanted to draw my Tomadachi boy Victor getting tickled. He is definitely my stereotypical lee. He was absolutely going to get destroyed

(My art don't repost but please reblog)

[polisena-art]

Poli uma curiosidade minha:

Vc é fã de literatura?

Tipo mesmo que eu vi algumas artes da obra Os Miseráveis de Victor Hugo e entre algumas obras de Amado eu tbm amo bastante a literatura - romance e crônicas inclusive, mas tipo lit. brasileira, inglesa, francesa ou a maioria?

Queria poder pagar de intelectual mas a verdade é que eu não leio muito KKKK XD Eu gosto muito de Les Miserables, li o romance todo e tals,,, e do Jorge Amado, por enquanto, eu só li Capitães da Areia e Dona Flor (Gabriela Cravo e Canela se encontra dentro do plástico ainda). Eu gosto de ler mas não diria que sou FÃ ou uma conhecedora de literatura.

[bifacialler]

The moment that made me go “who are you and what have you done with Logan Horn”. Cause damn. Take that ghost ex to ghosting school.

[pnuk-r0ck]

Why does the young Once-ler remind me of Patrick oml

[primeirapagina]

prometeu demais e entregou tudo!

Parecia que abandonei o meu blog pessoal? Sim. Até eu me dizia isso. Mas agora estou sentindo que tenho muito tempo livre, e resolvi voltar. Eu parei de escrever sobre os livros, apesar de nunca ter sido algo constante, mas isso não quer dizer que eu parei de ler. Só que parei de escrever e postar aqui. Resolvi voltar e voltei.

Senti que faltava um amigo que pudesse me escutar (ou ler) sobre minhas últimas leituras, que, na minha humilde opinião, melhoraram bastante desde “Silent Vows”. Mas também fiquei bastante crítica. Às vezes, ler um livro desse calibre faz coisas com uma pessoa.

Comecei a pegar o ritmo de livros clássicos por conta da faculdade, e é uma coisa diferente. Um sentimento diferente. É engraçado notar como meu gosto por livros foi mudando. Hoje, muito dificilmente vou pegar um Percy Jackson da vida, mas isso não quer dizer que não lerei um Percy Jackson da vida. O que quero expressar é que meu gosto mudou com a minha idade, mas ainda continua o mesmo. Entendeu? Não? Tudo bem, porque para mim faz sentido. E, numa dessas leituras, acabei lendo Frankenstein, da queridíssima Mary Shelley. Ela é realmente uma querida com uma cabeça totalmente perturbada, mas eu a amo. 

Frankenstein, ou O Prometeu Moderno é tudo aquilo que você não achava que seria. Acho que todos que não conhecem acham que é um cientista louco que cria o monstro em um castelo mal-assombrado, com chuvas e trovões, mas a verdade é que não é isso. Pois é. Fiquei chocada.

Nossa mas quem é Prometeu? E porque é moderno? Prometeu foi um titã da mitologia grega, que foi incumbido de criar os animais, e roubou o fogo para dar de presente para nós, meros humanos, o que nós deu superioridade sobre os outros animais. E o que fizeram com ele? Botaram ele preso, enquanto um corvo comia o fígado dele. Ah, a mitologia grega né.

Achava que conhecia a história do Frankenstein até de fato ler a história do Frankenstein. É muito mais do que a história de um cientista doido. Agora, um momento sério, o livro tem implicações religiosas e filosóficas. 

O livro no final é uma boneca russa, uma história dentro de uma história dentro de outra história.

De início, temos Capitão Walton, um explorador que resolve… explorar. Pegou o navio dele, e foi rumo ao Polo Norte. E ele está lá, de boas, explorando, e o barco dele fica preso em meio a gelo e neve, e bem ao longe, ele vê uma figura enorme, bem grande, sendo puxada por cachorros e ele fica bem encucado. Não é todo dia que se vê um homem correndo em baixas temperaturas. E mesmo à distância, conseguia ver que o homem era grande. Uma baita de uma visão. E quando o barco se solta do gelo um dia depois, ele encontra Victor Frankenstein! Meu Deus. Outro homem nessa imensidão de gelo. E digo mais, o Frankenstein não é o monstro.

Enfim, Walton acolhe Frankenstein, e este, já pelas últimas, resolve contar a história dele, sobre sua irmã, seu irmão, seu amigo Clerval e sobre como ele, em um momento de loucura em que achou que iria desafiar Deus, criou um monstro. Esse monstro cruel e rude, que foi solto pelo mundo, querendo cometer atrocidades a todos e estava atormentando o pobre do Victor.

Voltando um pouco a parte do Prometeu, uma pesquisa básica vai mostrar muito mais significados, mas nunca saberemos qual é verdadeiro, já que a Mary Shelley está morta. Mas, juntando dois mais dois, temos mais ou menos a premissa de Frankenstein. Um criador que, após ir contra Deus ou deuses, sofre as consequências por suas próprias ações. Daí ele é moderno, porque 1818 já foi moderno um dia.

Cá entre nós, para mim o livro é sobre preconceito contra feios. Não quero falar demais da história que Frankenstein conta a Walton pois é parte importante do livro e do enredo.

O livro é muito bom e entrou na lista dos meus livros favoritos, mas é bem denso de ler. Assim que acaba, percebe como várias histórias, filmes e conceitos foram inspirados no livro, o mais recente sendo o filme “Pobre Criaturas”, com a Emma Stone. Infelizmente, nunca vi nenhuma adaptação cinematográfica de Frankenstein porque meu cérebro não aguenta ver uma tela, sem querer abrir o YouTube. Enfim: recomendo demais.

[descriptive-tickles]

Having a Ticklish Christmas.

I realised just how long it’s been since I’ve posted here on tumblr but the festive time of year got me thinking.. how could we take the staples of Christmas and bring a little more than the rib tickling jokes but some full on rib tickling instead 😏

Crackers were my first thought! A range of tickling themed crackers to bring a little fun to those Christmas get together. With people you want to share this with of course, not necessarily for the family Xmas meal.

Every cracker pulled has a victor and someone not so lucky. So firstly inside the part of your cracker it will have either lee or ler written. Just so roles are determined by the cracker.

What else do we get in a cracker, a terrible Xmas joke. Well these crackers also have a piece of paper, but this is a position to be tickled in or a spot to focus on. And you can’t say no no no if it’s too ticklish, you pulled the cracker, you accept the result! 😜

Once that is settled you may find something else in there, usually a little toy.. instead of the tiny screwdriver or emotion revealing fish, you can get a tickle tool in miniature of course. An added extra to assist with the tickling, but like the real cracker toys, may not be super reliable.

Third and finally you usually get a little paper crown which everyone wears because it’s Christmas. Well, what is this was replaced by say a blindfold in the ler half of the cracker, to the victor go the spoils and the lee won’t know what’s coming.

And if you really want to spice things up, why not pull more than one cracker! You may get lee 2 or 3 times I don’t make the rules. But the consequences are binding.

Happy tickling and happy Christmas everyone. What other ideas could make a tickly Christmas. Feel free to share ideas!