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amazingmsme · 1 day

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The Joke's That Make You Laugh

Notes: Inspired by this post by @nhasablogg because I've been fixated on the concept ever since I saw it. Anyways, Wonka gives off insane lee energy and I refuse to believe he wouldn't get up to shit like this. Based on the new Wonka movie.

Summary: Wonka's newest chocolate creation has him in stitches.

Willy's heart raced as he looked down at the creation on his table. It was a beautiful thing. The appetizing treat curled slightly into a bow with golden tendrils spanning out into dozens of soft barbs. It very nearly seemed to flutter with the breeze flowing in through the window with how lifelike it appeared, though Willy knew this was impossible.

A feather. A simple creation when compared to the hundreds of wonders Willy had stocked his factory with, but its appeal was not held in its design. It was in what it could do.

He sat back in his chair, holding his chin as he stared at it. His leg jumped and jerked under the table in an unsteady, anxious rhythm. He and the feather held a silent staring contest as he debated adding finishing touches. Behind it sat several copies of the same chocolate in a pile—he always made sure to create back-ups. Perhaps he should add speckles to the top for realism, or splatter a black coating on the quill to appear as ink. None of this mattered, really. If he was being honest with himself, the chocolate had been finished thirty minutes ago and all of his tinkering and fussing was mere procrastination.

Willy wasn’t embarrassed. That was silly, after all, to be embarrassed of something that no one will see but you, that impacts no one but you. Not quite nervous, either. He had wanted to try creating something like this for a while now, even if the idea hadn’t quite formed into a coherent thought yet. He was excited about this. He wanted this. No, if he were to put it into words, it was a vague apprehension, a worry that it wouldn’t work, or worse, that it would work too well.

He tapped his fingers against the table. He leapt to his feet. He paced around several yard before whirling back to face the innocent feather.

“It’s just chocolate,” he muttered to himself. “Familiar territory.”

Before he could overthink it anymore, he snatched the treat and popped it into his mouth.

He rolled the chocolate around with his tongue. White chocolate, notes of hazelnut, all with a sweet vanilla glaze. It was, as always, delicious. He held it in the pocket of his cheek, allowing the warmth of his mouth to dissolve it.

Stalling.

Willy frowned, before determinedly swallowing it.

The effect was not instantaneous. He had made sure to calculate in a slight delay as there had been some fear of choking by accident. He was hyper aware of his own nervous system, unsure if what he was feeling was a tingling sensation or merely the butterflies swooping in his stomach.

Now that he had done it, worries began to flood Willy’s mind. He was alone, as he often was. There was Noodle and the rest of them, and the Oompa Loompas of course, but not here, not in his personal bedroom, not in his factory after hours. Sometimes they would stay late to finish up orders, and the Oompa Loompas slept here at the factory. If something had gone wrong, it would only be reasonable to get him. What if someone came in? What if it didn’t fade out in time? What if he had gotten the calculations wrong and it never wore off?

What if it was a dud and he was working himself up over nothing?

Just as he was about to go and check if the door was actually locked, however, Willy felt it. It was faint at first, a mere spark of something in his stomach. Soon, however, the spark multiplied until it was less of a spark and more of a crawling sensation over his lower abdomen, like spiders with feathers for legs.

“Oh. Oh.” A grin was breaking out across his features, his legs far less steady than they were mere moments before. He thought about making a break for the bed, but the sensation was only getting worse, and he found himself crumpling to the ground, arms wrapped protectively around his stomach.

It tickled. God, it tickled. More than he had anticipated, despite having created the recipe himself. It was spreading out from his stomach now and heading toward his sides. He dug beneath his coat, his own fingers gripping frantically at his undershirt in an unconscious effort to stop the feeling. Giggles welled up in his throat and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep them in. But it just wouldn’t stop. It was all just so intentional and teasing. Swipes up his sides, pokes at his ribs, fluttery fingers scuttling across his hips and down to his lower back. It was an overwhelming force of gentleness that he couldn’t fight off no matter how much he wanted to.

He knew logically that the chocolate was merely activating his nervous system and making his mind believe that it tickled when in actuality he was fine. One of the core ingredients to the chocolate was a rare hallucinogen he had found while out on his travels that was meant to interfere with one’s nervous system.

The idea for a tickling chocolate was one he had been working on for a while by then (secretly, of course, in the late hours of the night when the longing for it transferred into a desire so intense that he thought he might actually die if he didn't have it fulfilled), so when he stumbled across the plant, he knew immediately what to do.

He had tweaked it of course, taken out any dangerous elements, and only added in enough for about twenty minutes—nothing too crazy. So, rationally, he knew there was nothing really happening to him.

Still. It felt real.

Red crept up Willy's neck, tinging his ears as he twitched and jerked away from his invisible oppressors. It was a strange feeling, being tickled by one’s own mind—no pesky hands to fight off, no people to plead to. Just a grown man giggling to himself on his bedroom floor. And the only person he had to blame for this was himself. All of this was going on in his own mind, after all. As such, it was easy to convince himself that all he really needed to do to get it to stop was stop believing that it tickled at all—even if it was a goal that he hoped to fail at.

Willy forced his eyes open, taking deep, shuddering breaths. He glared firmly down at his own legs, holding the image of them in his mind. He could see nothing touching him, therefore there was nothing touching him. Thus, his mind had to be wrong in its attempts to convince Willy that something was squeezing devastating pinches higher and higher up his legs.

“It doesn’t tickle,” he gritted out, his wide grin saying otherwise. “It doesn’t… mmhmm… doesn’t tickle!”

Fingers crawling up toward his torso.

“Doesn’t—”

Scribbling over his stomach.

“Ti—”

Thumbs digging into his hips.

“—ihicKLE! Oh, what’s the pohohoint!” He doubled over at last, cackling wildly as he held his stomach. “Why does it hahave to tihickle so much!?” To who he was speaking, he couldn’t say, but some part of his mind was convinced that if he put the information out into the universe that maybe it would lend a helping hand. When that didn’t work, he attempted a more accepting method.

“N-now, now,” he assured himself, as though condoling a wailing child. “It’s just, ah, tihickling! Nothing t-to get so wohorked up about!” This was answered by several rapid-fire pokes to his ribs that sent him falling back and rolling about the floor. He knew it was impossible for the tickling to in any way be impacted by himself, as proven earlier, but it was starting to feel a tad bit personal as time went on.

Willy’s shoulders scrunched as soft touches flicked behind his ears, seeming to almost kiss his neck. He covered his face, groaning into his hands. It couldn’t have been more than five minutes. How was he going to survive the next fifteen?

Willy continued to lie there as he waited for the chocolate’s effects to wear off, squirming frantically in desperate mirth. What he didn’t see was the shadow of a man right outside his window that he had failed to notice in the excitement of his creation. They perched on the sill, observing him carefully until Willy’s laughter transformed into a few trickling giggles as the effects of the potion wore off.

They watched him as he carefully stood up, still a bit wobbly from the tickling, and walked over to lock up the remaining chocolates on the table in a little sealed jar that he shoved behind some books on his shelf.

It wasn’t until Willy had finally gone to bed that they emerged, shuffling carefully into the room and quietly sneaking over to the bookshelf. They scaled the wood paneling with ease, careful to make sure Willy was still out. The tickling had exhausted him, however, so it seemed, and so the man had no trouble sneaking behind the books and opening the little jar, sticking his orange hand inside.

The Oompa-Loompa smiled as he beheld the ornate sweet. It was true he was no longer conspiring against the chocolatier, but he hadn’t yet lost his penchant for mischief. Besides, it was just tickling—a harmless prank. He shoved the chocolate pieces into his pockets, quickly hopping down from the shelf and sneaking out the window before his plans could be ruined.

He held high hopes that this was going to be an eventful week.

#literally watched the movie so i could read this #it’s so cute omgggg #he really does have such lee energy #willy wonka #wonka #wonka fic #wonka tickle fic #ticklish!wonka

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amazingmsme · 1 day

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sometimes i need to remind myself that i'm writing fanfiction for free and i'm allowed to have a shitty sentence or two

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amazingmsme · 2 days

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Alright, to ao3's soon to be arriving Wattpad Refugees, a basic guide to general user culture:

1.) Unlike Wattpads vote system that let's you like each chapter, the ao3 equivalent kudos only allows one per work. Everyone is generally quietly annoyed about this. To engage with each chapter, you're heavily encouraged to comment. Trust me, it makes people's day.

2.) Ao3 has no algorithm. By default it's latest updated work first. You can find things to your taste through searches, filters and tags.

3.) 'No archive warnings apply' and 'user has chosen not to use archive warnings' mean two very different things. No archives warnings means the work is free from any content that could require a warning tag (character death, graphic depictions of violence, non-con, etc). User has chosen not to use archive warnings means it could contain any of the warning content, be it hasn't been explicitly tagged. Treat it like an allergen. No archive warnings apply is allergen free. User has chosen not to use archive warnings, may contain traces or whole chunks of the allergen. If you're likely to have a bad reaction, maybe don't take the risk.

4.) Speaking of warnings, ao3 has very few restrictions on the type of work that's allowed. Whatever your personal thoughts or feelings on that are, thats how the site is. You're likely to run across some dark subject matters and a lot of people are uncomfortable with reading that. You're well within your rights not like these works and have your opinion on whether they should be allowed, but harassing the authors of such works (or any works) is more likely to come back on you than them. Ao3 operates on a strong policy of 'don't like, don't read'. Use the tagging system to your full advantage to only engage with the kind of works you want to see.

We look forward to welcoming you all and seeing the fantastic works you create. Happy writing!

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amazingmsme · 2 days

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Henchman: "Whatcha got there?- .w."

Villain, holding a Tickle Ray Gun in one Hand and a Beverage in the other: "A Smoothie."

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amazingmsme · 2 days

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If you leave a positive comment on my fanfiction be sure I'm gonna read it everyday and cherish it till the end of the world

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amazingmsme · 2 days

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[RUINING THE LIVES OF PEOPLE WHO ARE NOT REAL] i am playing. With my touys

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amazingmsme · 2 days

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amazingmsme · 2 days

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#literally me with the ghost!polites au

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amazingmsme · 3 days

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Brotp questions for Thomas and Arthur? Good ol’ Shelby boys:)

KISSING YOU ON THE MOUTH AAAHHH I LOVE THEM!

1. Who’s more ticklish? This is so hard, but I think it would be so cute & funny if it was Arthur. Cocky big bro who’s actually way more ticklish than the younger siblings? Sign me tf up!

2. What kind of tickles are they sensitive to?

For both of them, rough tickles are more effective, especially if they want any chance at escape before they face retaliation

3. Which role (lee/ler) does each of them hold?

It really depends on their mood, because I know Tommy can be a fucking wicked ler, but he rarely lets himself indulge in any sort of fun or shenanigans. Arthur on the other hand is more in touch with his softer, maybe even a little goofy side. He loves nothing more than to sneak up on him when he least expects it & tickle the shit out of him

4. How did they discover each others’ ticklishness?

Being the older brother, Arthur always knew from a young age, because he was actually a pretty good brother when they were all young & he liked to wrestle with his lil bros, & even Ava! (She always complained, but that never stopped him) Tommy found out when he was a little bit older when he roped in John to get their revenge

5. Who’s more likely to instigate a tickle fight?

Arthur! He’s so tired of seeing Tommy so serious & stressed out all the time, so he’s gotta stir the pot & add a lil spunk to their mundane days. Tommy’s attacks are mostly revenge based, & he’ll find any excuse to attack him. Oh, Arthur drank the last cup of coffee? Say your fuckin’ prayers

6. How often do they tickle each other?

Not too often now that they have a business to run, but whenever they notice the other has been particularly down in the dumps, they can’t help but try to cheer them up!

7. Who’s the least likely to ask for tickles?

Literally neither of them would ever be able to bring themselves to ask for it. Well, MAYBE Arthur could muster up the courage to mumble something to his wife, but that’s a hard maybe. They just both have so much toxic masculinity, I cannot see this ever happening. But that doesn’t mean they can’t tell when the other is in need of a lil pick me up

#asks #anon ask #brotp ask meme #peaky blinders headcanons #arthur shelby #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #peaky blinders

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amazingmsme · 3 days

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Stupid in Love

Summary: Nick Miller is completely, 100% normal about all things Jessica Day. Including her smile, her laugh--ah, fuck. He's doomed. NickJess ft. pining!Nick

Anon: I just saw you write for New Girl! I am in my yearly rewatch of the show so I am so happy you write for it! Maybe the loft gang and CeCe can be playing a game of true American and somehow during the game it comes out that Jess is incredibly ticklish. Everyone is too focused on the game to use it to their advantage at the moment, but nick remembers and maybe later when him and Jess are together, he decided to test his new found knowledge and see just how ticklish Jess really is.

While this isn’t set during a particular episode, I was thinking HEAVILY about s2 ep15, Cooler. One of the greatest episodes of the whole show, hands down. I just wanted to write pining Nick tbh.

True American is the best goddamn game ever invented. It defines a man at his core level. Everything that’s ever mattered to Nick is on the line in this game. His dignity, his pride, his dignity…

He honestly can’t remember what they’re playing for. Something involving the sink. Or a drink? Unclear, but irrelevant. Nick is the king of an aluminum can palace and his citizens will thrive under his leadership. This is his birthright.

They’re playing True American: Catan Edition tonight. Each player defends their own small nations and attempts to crush the others, throwing their leaders to the molten lava below. It’s the smartest thing Winston’s ever come up with.

“Duel for my amusement,” Nick slurs, waving his paper towel roll scepter around. The cardboard crown on his head slips down over his eyes. Cece blows a raspberry at him. He lobs a balled-up piece of paper at her.

Jess plays a fanfare into her backup kazoo—Schmidt threw away her main one—and draws angry eyebrows onto the smiley face of her country’s flag. A declaration of war.

Sober Jess is all for political progress and human rights, but Drunk Jess? Maniacal, power-hungry, and so very hot.

Focus, Miller.

“Two, four, six, eight! Who do we appreciate?” Jess climbs onto one of the kitchen chairs and puts a colander on her head. A warrior’s helm. Nick smiles at her.

In their corner of the living room, Winston and Schmidt whisper furiously. At some point in the last hour, Winston had ascended to Grand Advisor of Schmidt’s Creek. Schmidt had lost the ability to speak after can number two, when Cece had flirted him out of all of his natural resources and a third of his land. Nick had been trying to think of how to poach Winston to Nicklandia, but he couldn’t think of a plan that didn’t involve saying ‘please’ until he passed out.

“Schmidt’s Creek will not challenge today!” Winston crushes his beer can against Schmidt’s forehead. Schmidt doesn’t even blink.

“Ruth Gader Binsburg! I challenge your weird little colony, Jess,” Cece shouts, messily hopping onto the chair next to Jess. They start some combination of swatting at each other and clutching on for dear life. Schmidt looks up at Cece like a drunk, lovesick puppy. Nick rolls his eyes.

Thank god he doesn’t look like that.

Does he look like that?

Shit. He’s missing the game.

“Yeah? Guess what—” Jess knocks her knuckles against the colander helmet, winces, and then points at Cece— “I’m the Queen of England, bitch.”

Nick’s not sure what’s elapsed in the apparently three years since he was last paying attention, but he knows by the way that Cece gasps that someone’s dying on the living room and/or kitchen floor tonight. Jess cackles and puts her hands on her hips. They start yelling, but even if they’re saying real human words, which he’s pretty sure they’re not, he’s not processing it. Jess looks so stupid in that little holey hat—someone should invent a word for that thing—and she’s adorable.

Nick leans his cheek on his palm and smiles wider. Does she know her nose scrunches when she’s annoyed?

Nick leans a little too far and loses his balance. Half of his aluminum fortress tumbles down. When he looks back up, Jess and Cece haven’t budged. Or blinked. Cece squints at Jess and it’s clear the conversation has ascended to psychic levels that even Drunk Nick can’t access. He tries though. Mostly gives himself a headache.

Something in their eye conversation must shift, because Cece gets this look on her face. Like pure, concentrated mischief. The aura off of her is so powerful that everyone scoots back a bit. Cece starts stretching and cracking her knuckles.

“Waitwaitwait, Cece, you don’t have to do this.” Jess holds her hands up in immediate surrender, but she’s smiling hard enough to brighten the room. A little nervous giggle picks up in the back of her throat and she starts to turn pinker than the boxed rosé that forms her section of the living room.

“Oh, but I do. Surrender. Now.” Cece points to the floor. Which is lava. Cruel way to go.

Jess looks at her best friend with the kind of profound resignation only possible when piss drunk. She sighs deeply, staring at the floor…

And then launches herself at Cece with a war cry.

Cece doesn’t even flinch. She catches Jess, smirks, and starts tickling her sides with vicious precision. Jess lets out a giggly shriek and crumples, sinking right down into the lava. The colander tumbles off of her head and rolls into Nick’s fortress.

The sound worms itself into Nick’s brain, taking up residence alongside all the other little Jess things that drive him nuts. It distracts him hard enough that by the time Winston arises as Supreme Leader of the Loft, Nick can’t even trace the path of his defeat.

………

Even when sobriety beats them over the head the next morning, Nick can remember nothing but the sweet music of Jess’s laugh. And the shape of her smile.

God he’s hopeless.

The slow march of the week brings some relief in the sense that a) Nick remembers that he really doesn’t do the whole ‘feelings’ thing and b) alcohol makes anyone look like an angel walking the earth. He is a grown ass man and Jess is an annoying little craft goblin. He can be normal. She’s normal. No need to get worked up over her.

“You look like Mr. Rogers’s grumpy cousin.” Jess snickers, fiddling with the sleeve of Nick’s hideous cardigan.

“You done? You finished?” He pulls his sleeve away from her. It’s really Schmidt’s, which she very well knows. Nick’s only wearing it because Schmidt’s being weird about Cece again, and the only way to survive that is to bend to his will. Schmidt’s already dehydrated himself twice this week trying to show off his muscles more, Nick doesn’t want to add to that by making the guy cry. He’d never stop.

Jess, however, doesn’t seem to understand the magnitude of this manly sacrifice. She’s too busy laughing at him.

“Mmmm, no, I don’t think I am. You look like a Muppet.” She pinches his cheek. He rolls his eyes.

“Well, that’s just a compliment.”

“No, no. You look like the bird. The bird with the eyebrows—“ Jess pauses as her giggles overtake her— “You look like Sam the Eagle.”

Jess folds over into his shoulder with laughter and smacks his chest. The warmth of it almost distracts him from the comment.

Almost.

“Yeah, laugh it up, Jess. C’mere—“ He drags her across the couch by the ankle and latches onto her sides. She makes that adorable sound again, that giggly shriek, and flails like a worm on a hook. She tries to push his face away. He swats her hands aside like it’s nothing. When reaches for him again—futile, really—he snatches her wrists in one hand, pins them down, and tickles with the other.

Her whole face burns. He chooses to ignore it for both of their sakes.

“Let me know when you’re ready to apologize. Take your time.” He does a little pinchy thing with his fingers and Jess lets out a high-pitched mess of syllables. She throws her head back and cackles, arching up into him.

“Hmm, yeah, see none of that sounded like ‘You’re the best, Nick Miller’. Try again.” He pokes all over her torso, fast and wild. He lets go of her and adds his other hand into the mix. Every time she tries to talk, he speeds up, making her laugh at his silliness along with his hands. She kicks her legs and lets out a little giggly growl. Nick smiles so wide his cheeks hurt.

“Nick!” She grabs his wrists but doesn’t stop him. His stomach flips. She’s so overwhelming.

“That’s my name.” He skitters his fingers up her ribs to distract himself from the lump in his throat.

Jess flails and nearly takes them both off the couch and into the next life. Nick catches himself before he collapses on top of her, but it puts their faces mere inches apart. The space of a breath. He can see the faint freckles across her nose, all brought forth by the pink flush down her cheeks and neck. As she catches her breath, lips parted, her laughter simmers low in her chest. He brushes her hair out of her face. His hand lingers on her cheek.

Her eyes crinkle when she smiles. Does she know that?

Nick gets the deep, burning urge to kiss her senseless. To download all these embarrassing, vulnerable thoughts from his brain to hers. To show her how deep this goes. To drink of her like the wine at restaurants he can never afford.

No. Not like this. She deserves better than this.

Than him.

He starts to pull away, awkwardly clearing his throat. Jess surges forward and Nick’s stupid little monkey brain gleefully claps its hands together, shouting this is it! It’s happening! Nick’s brain activity screeches to a halt. He stares at her mouth and freezes.

Jess flips them over and starts tickling his ears like some kind of insane supervillain.

“No! Jessica!” He turtles and attempts to fling himself to safety. All he accomplishes is hanging off the back of the couch, leaving his knees in reach of Jess’s evil nails—

One day he will be smart about Jessica Day, but he concedes that it won’t be today. But as she destroys him and Schmidt’s stupid, hopefully inexpensive cardigan, he secretly hopes the day never arrives.

#i just realized i never reblogged this #a fucking SIN #better late than never #this legit made my soul leave my body #FINALLY someone other than me is writing for them #my little sillies #nickjess #jess day #nick miller #new girl #new girl fic #new girl tickle fic #ticklish!jess

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