Let me self-indulge dammit

Hello~! you can call me Exo! I'm a 24-year-old woman running her SFW Tickle blog. I request that anyone under 18 not interact with my stuff or me. SFW and NSFW are free to say hi! If I make you uncomfortable, please let me know because I'm still learning to navigate internet etiquette. Enjoy my blog! (And thanks for reading 😁)

[atnightiscream]

Hello everyone! I hope your day is going well!

So..I hate to do this but, I was going through my followers to delete some porn bots and I noticed something I need to address and request.

To minors that follow me, please unfollow. I'm flattered you like my stuff and you're free to keep reading the safe stuff, it just makes me uncomfortable to have minors following my blog.

Thank you! Have a great night! ^_^

[atnightiscream]

I'd like to add that minors who don't unfollow me will be blocked. Sorry!

[hailraykin-deactivated20230814]

Reblog to give mutuals a break from whatever they're been going through

[thebardnemo]

The Dragon Lord

🌲Friends of the Laughing Tree🪶

Spring was just coming to an end when the tree whispered to Nemo: Valencia. The little tree spirit squealed with delight before drifting towards her next destination. A new season of stories await…

The tree spirit found that the land of Valencia was rich with story. Elves, faeries, dragons… were only a sampling of the kinds of mythical folk that resided here. Amidst it all, were kingdoms in turmoil, friendships strained, and countless lives lost to that age old enemy of mortals: greed.  The tree first led Nemo to a dragon lord, a magnificent being who could take many forms at will, both of a mortal and draconian nature. As usual, the spirit found that the dragon lord was not as he seemed. So she waited in the safety of her otherworldly glamor for the lord to reveal the piece of himself that drew the Laughing Tree to this land.  Lord Dimitri was a powerful and steadfast leader of his land who beneath his tough exterior, cared deeply for his subjects… enough that, at times, he could be playful with them.  Nemo giggled the first time she witnessed a scene where the lord had caught one servant in particular, Crow, trying to prank him with magic. The servant cackled uncontrollably as her liege tickled under her arms and again her sides with his claws using the very gentlest touch. Eventually he let her go, holding her carefully as to ensure she didn’t fall and scolding her with a gruff chuckle. The tree spirit sighed contentedly, knowing both found the experience equally mirthful.  Once Dimitri left Crow to her duties, Nemo noticed pixies following after him, but he didn’t seem to mind. They seemed to be jovial in their movement, giving off a bright green glow, similar to some of the lord’s own scales. Feeling mischievous, Nemo glided towards each pixie, touching them with her inspiration.  The pixies then descended upon the dragon lord, buzzing around him in a frenzy. At first he seemed angry as he tried to shoo them away without hurting them. But then Nemo heard him chuckle again and again until he was overcome with full belly laughter. The pixies tickled at his ears, neck, sides and under his arms. They danced around his shoulder blades as well close to his wings. And when one went under his chin, he howled with even more laughter.  Nemo found the scene to be incredibly endearing and a perfect story to bring home to the Laughing Tree. Furthermore, she learned that in the realm of Valencia, even dragons could be ticklish. 

A/N: Stepping away from my hiatus briefly to share @atnightiscream's OC with you all: Dimitri. Exo was one of the first to interact with my blog since I’ve created it and has since then become one of my good friends. We share a mutual love for fantasy and have a similar brand of humor. I can always count on her to make me laugh! Thank you for your friendship and support Exo, it means a lot. 🫂

[atnightiscream]

AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! OHMYGOSH

NEMOOOOOOO!! I LOVE YOU!

Oh my gosh- kakdmdmkrkf I love the way you wrote this. You captured his character perfectly!! I LOVE YOU! I'm so honored for my creations to be featured in your little spirit's travels!! Thank you so much for writing this!!

Everything you write has so much whimsy 🥰 and I'm so blessed that you share it with me ❤️ thank you for being such a lovely heckin person, and I'm beyond happy to call you my friend 🫂🫂

[thebardnemo]

Forgive me for the silence, travelers.

The Laughing Tree and its spirits were overdue for a rest. And still need it…

I hope I can share new stories with you all this summer.

Thank you everyone for your ongoing support.

[atnightiscream]

LISTEN HERE! this is your escape, we're just happy you share your work with us <3 don't let the idea that you have to constantly feed us become a burden to your health, nemo.

Rest. Relax. And WRITE WHEN AND O N L Y WHEN YOU WANT TO!

[a-simple-lee]

Wasting time (Project Hail Mary)

Lee!Ryland, Ler!Rocky

Synopsis: Eridians only sleep a maximum of 12 out of every 98 earth hours. Rocky cannot comprehend why Grace uses so much of his measly 16 remaining hours just getting up. When he's conveniently reminded that Ryland is ticklish, it's only logical that he takes the opportunity to nudge grace out of bed a little bit faster.

Author's notes: uhhh was not planning on finishing this one for a while but i sat down and it just sort of fell into place, so...here you are I guess? Hope my Rocky characterisation is ok, I try to make sure he sounds like the grouchy engineer we know he is

There were many cultural differences Rocky & Grace discovered about one another. Every new revelation brought a barrage of questions from each side, without fail. It was always interesting. And occasionally, there'd be one that Rocky could just not wrap his head around. Sometimes, he liked these - found the sheer contrast fascinating. And, other times, they proved to be mildly infuriating. When Eridians woke up in the morning, it was efficient. Despite their vulnerability during sleep, once they were up, they were up. No fussing around. Humans were...not like this. Or maybe it was just Grace. "Come on," He urges, scuttling across the house to Ryland's bed. "It is nearly midday...by your standards." "Nnnno." A slurred voice emerges from the blanket. Disagreeing was stupid, Rocky thought. Grace couldn't even see a clock under there.

"There is coffee," He tries, nudging Grace's dresser, where the Eridians' best attempt at an espresso is sitting. Perhaps bribery is the way forward. "Go'way." Okay, not bribery, then. "You are being ridiculous, statement." "M'tired." He's losing patience. Sometimes he questions whether Grace lied about the age humans reached maturity; it certainly doesn't seem like Ryland has the faculties of a responsible adult. Perhaps he should stop treating him like one. "Graace," Rocky hops up onto the bed, tugging at the covers. He can locate Ryland through the blankets, and see him clutching at the corners to keep them in place. A silly thing to do, considering Grace knows Rocky is much stronger. "I'm sleeping!" Okay, that's it. Rocky grabs for the blankets. "That is stupid, you are talking to me-" "nooo! I am sleeping! I'm sleeping." Protests aplenty, Grace attempts to snatch the covers closer, and it dissolves into a petty wrestling match. Rocky can't make much sense of anything except Ryland's flailing limbs as he tries to gain some advantage.

Then, an interesting noise breaks through the complaints.

A giggle. "Aha-Rocky no!" Grace grabs at Rocky's hand, where it appears to have jabbed under his arm through all the layers of bedding. Now, there's an idea. Unlike Grace, who has already wasted ten minutes of their day, Rocky does not hesitate. He jabs two arms into the quilt, wriggling where he knows Ryland's sides are. "Get up," He commands. The effect is instant. Grace flails wildly, the same way he did when he first introduced Rocky to the concept of tickling, and Rocky had rightly requested a demonstration. What a fortuitous day that was. Now, he has a way to make his friend smile that could also put a stop to those obstinate moods humans are so prone to. And ever since they reached Erid, his new suit has made it so much easier. "ahaha-nononoNO" It's hard not to laugh along with Ryland when he's like this. Human laughter sounds so silly, so sharp, compared to theirs. And Grace's is so squeaky. He sounds like a juvenile, in an endearing sort of way. Rocky presses on, knowing from experience to squeeze gently at the softness of Ryland's stomach. He's rewarded with the reaction he was expecting - frantic leg kicking and high pitched giggles. "You are definitely awake now. Get up." "Rohocky! You aha- you jerk!" Wow. The audacity. Seeing as he's a jerk, apparently, Rocky adds in a third hand - one for the stomach, and two for the sides. Grace's nervous system clearly doesn't know what to make of this, because all he can yelp is "Please!" before dissolving into...hm, what was that word again? Cackles? There were so many ways to describe the different noises humans made when tickled. And Rocky still remembers how to get each of them out of Ryland. Seeing as Grace was set on being a little ♪♫♬♭, he figures he might as well work his way through the checklist. "You could have drunk your coffee in the time I've been tickling you," He laments, prodding up and down Grace's ribs in a way he knows will draw out snorts. These were an especially funny noise. Then there were the yelps - those did not require much effort. Rocky simply changed spots, skipping a few rib bones to go straight under grace's arms. "Stahohop! Aha, jeez, I cahan't!" ...It was always hard to understand Grace when he laughed like this. A pity, really. "Agree to get up, then." He is not graced with a response, just a stubborn glare. Well, if that was how it was going to be... Time to induce the shrieks. Rocky shifts backwards, making sure Ryland's legs, which have long since kicked off the blanket, are weighed down. He hears Grace's heartbeat quicken. "No, nooo, nonono!" "...Yes." With that, Rocky takes two hands, and scribbles them over the backs of Ryland's knees. These were definitely the funniest noises. "OKOK I'M UHUP! I'M UP I'M UP PLEHEASE- ahahaHA!" Grace swats behind him uselessly, but Rocky has what he wants, now. He eases up, and waits for Ryland to catch his breath.

Another interesting observation: humans must take a while to figure out when tickling has stopped, because Ryland keeps laughing despite none of Rocky's hands being nearby. Well, that was educational. Definitely more effective than Grace's twenty ignored alarms. "...Do I need to tickle every morning now?" "Noho, no...point taken, bud..." He mutters, reaching for his coffee and glancing at the dual clocks on the wall. "Yikes, I overslept by 3 hours! Why didn't you say something?" Rocky lets out a frustrated trill. "What, I- You will never not confuse me." This was true, but with the way Grace laughed and pulled him closer, he didn't really care. Perhaps, taking some extra time with your friend in the morning wasn't inefficient at all.

[atnightiscream]

AAAAH i love them! 🥰 this was so warm to read!

[snortlaughs]

(after making a joke merely to provoke a ler)

“i—ihihi’m juhust kidding! i’m kihihidding— i’m kidding— (squeal) FUCK I’MKIDDING plehehehease I’M KIDDING I’m juhuhust kihihidding!”

[curled-up-blushing]

Oh cool now I have butterflies cool thanks 😵‍💫

[switch-witch-erin]

I have zero time to rest, and today is a holiday, so I gave myself a nice gift - some time to draw something that I want, instead of what I have to x)

[atnightiscream]

I do not know why. I DO NOT PLAY THESE GAMES. SO someone tell me WHY THIS SCOTTISH MAN HAS BEEN LOCKED IN MY HEAD FOR A SOLID WEEK. I am not exaggerating- my god this art is not helping that obsession

I love this. I love this a l o t

[atnightiscream]

Big, stoic characters cracking into muffled giggles/chuckles at the expense of the goofy character who's been trying to get them to smile for half of the run time 🥰

[alittlespankandtickle]

that thing when you drill your thumbs into someone’s hips? or when you take your knuckles to the sides of their ribs? good shit. that’s the whole post

[atnightiscream]

Y e s

[atnightiscream]

Someone want to explain to me why hands look SO PRETTY dressed up in nail polish and leather gloves?? Because THEY DO!

[atnightiscream]

Men's hands too, like, y'all fucking ROCK the nail polish and gloves

[atnightiscream]

Someone want to explain to me why hands look SO PRETTY dressed up in nail polish and leather gloves?? Because THEY DO!

[kitkatfingers]

but we can pause for now, i think ive said enough

summary: dean has really nice hands (pt.2 to 'i could be your antidote tonight')

warnings: no use of y/n, gn reader, lee!reader, ler!dean, excessive descriptions of hands, reference to reader having hair long enough to need a hair tie, brief mention of alcohol (no drunkenness), description of guns but no descriptions of violence, continuation of ragebaiter dean and black cat reader, more fighting as enrichment, a singular kiss

word count: 1.5k

authors notes: don't look at me, also theres very little like actual tickling happening in this one so idk if anyone will like this, posting now before i can psych myself out of doing it

///

This was becoming a problem.

The first time it happened, you hadn't thought much of it. You were in an abandoned warehouse, well into the night, following a lead that may or may not have led to nowhere. Dean was a step in front of you, hand near his gun but not quite pulling it out yet. Then you had heard a noise from somewhere to your left, and you took a blind step backwards, tripping over a rusted piece of broken pipe.

Dean's reaction was faster than your brain could even process that you were falling. His hand shot out, grabbing a firm hold on your upper arm, pulling you up steadily to your feet.

"You okay?" His voice was hushed in the dark.

He held on until you nodded the affirmative, but even then his hold trailed down to your elbow. His hand gave a comforting squeeze before retreating, fingers trailing after the soft material of your shirt. He pulled out his gun, and you saw the same firm grip he used to hold it steady as he proceeded forward through the room.

Your skin burned where he had touched you.

Since then it was like you were zeroed in on his hands. You noticed everything. How he held a beer bottle, the way he fiddled with the ring on his finger, the outline of your hair tie around his wrist, how he held a gun, or a knife, the assuredness and competence in his movements.

It was becoming a real problem.

~

You stood by the rickety table in the corner of the room, cleaning out your handgun. Most of the work was done, and you paused your ritual to take a sip of your whisky cola. Dean was similarly occupied with his Colt on the opposite side of the room.

You heard him groan loudly as he stretched out his back, and the bed creaked when he got up. You busied yourself with your handgun as his footsteps approached you.

You felt him lean over your shoulder, peering at your movements, body heat seeping into you despite the chill in the old building. Hair fell into your eyes, and you placed the bullet down to brush the strands back.

"Here, let me." Dean's voice was soft. His hands gently brushed your hair from your face, pulling the strands together at the back of your head. Your eyes slipped closed for a second at the affection, as he pulled your hair tie off his wrist and tied your hair in a knot. Forcing your attention back to your hands, you tried to feign focus on slipping bullets back into the round. Dean's hand lay heavily on the back of your neck.

Your fingers slipped and the bullet fell to the table with a clatter.

Dean's hand disappeared from your neck and instead he leaned closer to place both his hands on top of yours. They were hot, burning invisible marks into your skin. He guided your hands, placing each individual bullet into the gun, then snapping the round shut. He tightened his grip on your hand and pulled your arm out, pointing the gun at a painting of a fallow deer that hung on the wall. Then his touch was gone.

"Looks good." He said, and retreated.

Exercising a great deal of control, you slowly placed the gun on the table. It was only after you've taken a long swig of your drink that you felt like you could breathe again.

You really needed to get a grip.

~

Dean was tapping on the table.

This wouldn't usually be a problem. You've grown accustomed to the Winchesters' various habits - both the quirky and the annoying. No, you weren't annoyed by it. You were, however, distracted. You peered over the top of the dusty old tome in your hands. Dean's focus was seemingly on the laptop screen in front of him. You trailed your eyes down to his hand.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

Thumb, forefinger, middle, ring, pinkie.

Again and again. Same slow rhythm, uninterrupted.

Your mind supplied a possible scenario of what this tapping would feel like against your skin. You huffed at your brain and threw one leg over the other in frustration. Then you flipped a page in the tome. Loudly.

The tapping paused.

"What's up with you?" Dean asked.

"Nothing." You said, adjusting the tome so the bottom of it rested against your leg, and the back leaned on the edge of the table. "This book is stupid."

"Wanna switch?"

You glanced at the laptop warily. "No."

Dean shrugged and went back to scrolling. With a heavy sigh, you returned to the scripts in the tome. Barely a minute passed before you heard it again.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

You would not give in. Teeth clenched, you forced yourself to read through the scripts in front of you. It's been a while since you read any sanskrit, and the distraction was not helping. Before long, your eyes trailed back to Dean's hand, still tapping out that same infuriating rhythm.

"You can just say it, you know." Dean's voice broke you out of your stupor.

"Huh?" You blinked up to see him already looking at you. He leaned in conspirationally, dropping his voice to a teasing whisper.

"I know you like my hands."

Heat rose to your face at an alarming rate. Embarrassment flooded through your chest and you were about to stammer out some kind of weak objection when the truth of his statement hit you.

"What do you mean you 'know'?" You demanded. Dean smiled in satisfaction and shrugged one shoulder.

"You're not exactly subtle." He explained. "It's easy to rile you up."

"You were doing all that on purpose?!" You snapped the tome shut and swung it at him.

Dean burst out laughing, curling his body away from you to shield himself from your attack. You stood from your seat.

"I'm gonna kill you!" You yelled, whacking him in the shoulder. "I'm gonna chop you up into a thousand little pieces and then I'm gonna feed you to the demons!"

"Alright, alright!" Dean was still laughing. He grabbed the book from you and placed it well out of your reach. His hands came up to catch yours, intertwining your fingers together. He looked up at you from his seat, eyes glittering with joy.

"You're cute when you're flustered."

"And you have too much time on your hands."

"Hm." Dean said. He let go of your hands to sneak his around your hips, locking them together at your lower back. "So if I was to ask if you want me to tickle you, you'd say no?"

"That's besides the point."

"No, that's exactly the point." He countered. "Do you like my hands so much because of how I tickle you?"

You flushed harder. "I don't know."

"It's a yes or no question."

"Fine, yes. Whatver. Yes."

A grin stretched on Dean's face. "So you do admit it."

"If I agree, will you let it go?"

"For now." That's the best you were going to get.

You steeled yourself; admissions of feelings never came easy to you. "Yes."

Dean rose from his chair, gently crowding you into the table behind you.

"Wait- now?" You stuttered, bracing your hands against his shoulders but not quite pushing him away. Dean only lifted a hand and wiggled his fingers in the air. You looked away. His shoulders shook as he laughed, and he leaned in to place a quick kiss on your cheek. Then his hands descended.

"Were you always this wriggly?" He asked, digging his fingers in between your ribs. Your legs kicked out instinctively, kicking him in the knee. You let go of one shoulder, deciding instead to bury your laughter in the crook of your elbow.

You felt Dean shift, hands pausing. He leaned in close, and blew light air right on your ear.

"Gah!" You flinched, hard, a strangled sound escaping you without your permission. Dean threw his head back with a cackle. Mortified, you buried your face in your hands. He would never let this go.

"'F yh shng nhghyn mm mrghr yh." You muttered into your hands.

"What's that?" Dean ceased his cackling and ducked down to try and look at you. He pried your hands off your face.

"I said: 'if you say anything I'll murder you'."

"Awh." He cupped your face in his hands. "You know, you're, like, super red right now."

"I'm leaving." You declared, slapping his hands away. Dean let you get away with one last tweak to your side that made you jump. You whirled around and pointed your finger at him when he laughed. "Do not."

You waited until he raised his hands in surrender before turning back around to leave the room.

"Let me know when you want a round two!" His voice rang out after you.

"Never!" You called back.

"Alright, same time tomorrow!"

You coulnd't help but crack a smile.

[atnightiscream]

StOPPP the HANDS?!? AHHHHHHH

[kitkatfingers]

i could be your antidote tonight

pairing: dean winchester x reader

summary: you're exhausted after a hunt - dean has his own agenda (pt.2 - but we can pause for now, i think ive said enough)

warnings: no use of y/n, gn reader, lee!reader, ler!dean, dean is a ragebaiter and it works unfortunately, reader gets ragebaited easily, suggestive dialogue bc its dean we're talking about, way too much build-up i'm afraid, mild cursing, kinda black cat reader i guess? yall like fighting for fun basically

word count: 1.8k

author's notes: i have no idea if anyone is even interested in this or if im the only one into this niche but here it is anyway. also i only watched season 1 of spn so far so i apologise if this is ooc

///

The light was still pale, the sun just beginning to rise, when Sam dragged the three of you to a nearby diner. The previous night had been chaotic, the fight hard, and the sleep afterwards elusive. You had just about managed to sleep two hours before Sam put his foot down and demanded real food. For all of you. Even Dean hadn't grumbled when his brother took over the order and didn't get him pie.

You leaned heavily against the seat of the booth, eyes drooping, plate of pancakes and bacon polished clean in front of you. Dean's hand rested on your knee, solid and comforting. The hunt had shaken all three of you.

"I still don't understand how it got there." Sam was saying, head bent over his notebook.

"Dude," Dean countered, "we got the demon. Stop your fussing."

Sam levelled him with a look. "If we don't know how it got there, we don't know if there will be more." His voice was the controlled sort of patience that came only from years of being the younger sibling.

They continued their bickering, but you tuned it out. In your state, you couldn't even recall what the demon had been called. Asad? Or Asag? You couldn't bring yourself to care to remember in that moment and your eyes drifted to look out the window.

A car had pulled up to the diner, parking a few spots away from the Impala. Curious, you tried to watch as a man and a young girl - maybe his daughter? - got out of the car. Something panged in your chest, yearning for the normalcy, but your eyes grew too heavy and slipped closed.

For a blissful moment, you floated in nothingness. The noise of the diner grew silent, the brothers' voices drifting away. Your eyelids flickered against the growing light, and your last thought was a longing for the motel bed.

A sudden jolt of electricity startled you awake, your knee jerking and kicking Sam's leg opposite you.

"Ow, what the hell?" Sam yelped, rubbing at his shin.

"Sorry," you said thinking quickly for an excuse, "nightmare."

"You good?" Dean asked from his seat next to you, hand still steady on your knee. He feigned his worry well, but you knew him too well not to see the glint in his eyes.

He had squeezed your knee on purpose.

You stared at him, heart still hammering from being startled. He just raised his eyebrows at you.

"Yeah. Fine." You looked away first, busying yourself with the coffee pot. Mug filled with lukewarm coffee, you leaned back again, trying to look relaxed. Casual.

Just as you brought the mug up to your lips, Dean's fingers squeezed again, thumb and forefinger digging into the soft flesh on either side of your kneecap. You choked on your coffee, coughing violently. Setting the mug down with a clatter, you dared a quick glare at Dean. He was grinning around his own mug.

"Okay, well, you two are clearly useless." Sam declared, gathering up his notebook and papers. "I'm going to the library to look into this."

You waited until he was well out of earshot before you turned on Dean.

"What the hell is your problem?" You hissed, ignoring how his face brightened at your annoyance.

"My problem?" He said, gleeful. "I don't have a problem."

"You're seriously gonna do this in front of Sam?"

"Come on," Dean drawled, "Sam is clueless. He didn't notice a thing!"

"He didn't notice a thing this time." You corrected. Dean smirked and leaned closer.

"Why? You gettin' shy on me?"

Warmth fluttered through your body. But your rage was stronger.

"You're going to wish that demon killed you." You glowered, eyes hardening as his lips stretched into a grin at your words.

"Aw, you don't mean that." He said, sliding closer to you on the booth seat. "Tell me you don't want this."

You faltered.

You were exhausted, and aching all over, and tense with the remains of the hunt. Having some fun with Dean, on a rare moment when Sam wasn't there, actually sounded…not that bad. Maybe even nice.

Dean saw the moment he got you.

"Come on," he dropped his voice to a whisper, trailing his fingers in light circles over your kneecap, "let's get out of here."

The drive back was silent, and charged with energy. Okay, maybe it was just you. Dean had seemed carefree, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in rhythm to the music. Thank god the drive was short. Now you stood in the motel room, watching warily as Dean shed his leather jacket.

"No need to be so skittish." He said, throwing the jacket over the back of a chair.

You scoffed. "I'm not skittish." You sat down on the edge of the bed to take off your shoes.

"Uh-huh." Dean clearly didn't believe you. Your focus remained resolutely on untying your laces. You heard his footsteps approaching, and if you rushed to get your shoes off, you would never admit it. You jumped up from the bed and walked past Dean just as he neared where you had been sitting. You took extra time in placing your shoes neatly by the door. Which you normally never did.

Okay so maybe you were skittish. It's not that you were dreading what was going to happen. No, if you were going to put a name to the feeling, you'd say it was anticipation, but in a good way. Excitement, even. So why where you avoiding the inevitable?

Dean was snickering behind you. You glared at him over your shoulder.

"You know, it's hard to believe you just hunted a fire demon a few hours ago." Dean said, crossing his arms.

"Saved your sorry ass, you mean." You called back, turning to face him. Dean didn't take the bait. He waved you over with one arm, grin stretching. You hesitated.

"Don't tell me you're scared of a little tickling."

"Of course not."

"Oh yeah? Come here and prove it."

He got you again. But you would sooner die than admit defeat. Dean knew this. You knew that he knew. So you crossed the room to stand in front of him, glaring at him expectantly. He considered you for a moment, eyes scanning your tense posture, then, slowly, he lifted one hand. Instead of attacking like you were expecting, his fingers lightly caught the hem of your tshirt. Your heart hammered in your chest.

"You look like I'm about to eat you." Dean said, holding back a grin.

"Knowing you, you might." Was it just you, or did your voice sound slightly breathless?

Dean titled his head as if to say 'you're not wrong'. Fingers slipped under your tshirt. He stepped into your space, crowding you against the edge of the bed, but not pushing you down. Fingertips skittered over your bare side, just enough that the skin beneath them twitched.

"Quit stalling." You forced yourself to say. "Get it over with."

"'Get it over with'?" Dean snickered. "Someone might think you're on death row."

You swallowed thickly as Dean's other hand came to rest gently against your ribs. "Sam might be back-"

"Sam won't be back for hours." Dean's voice lowered to a murmur. His fingers curled and you flinched, hard, a strangled noise escaping you. Dean lowered his head closer to your ear. "We've got all the time in the world."

It sounded more like a threat than reassurance.

"Motherfu-" You locked your hands onto Dean's wrists, but he did not stop. "I'm going to kill you."

"You know," Dean said conversationally, "one of these days I'm gonna make you admit it."

"Admit what?" You gasped out, eyes squeezing shut. It must have been because you were so exhausted - you never felt this sensitive before.

"That you like being tickled."

"I do not-"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, giggles." Dean cut you off and lowered his hands to your hips. You doubled over, forehead resting against his shoulder, laughter bubbling out of your chest. "There we go - going down!"

Dean nudged you backwards, letting you fall onto the bed behind you, swiftly following and situating himself over you.

"Get off me you brute!" You pushed at his approaching hands. Dean laughed, nudging your hands away and the two of you got into a hand slap fight.

"Still fighting?" He grinned, catching your hands maneouvering both of your wrists into one hand. You tugged defiantly but his grip was firm. Warmth spread through your body at the realisation that you were caught. Normally you'd break out of his hold with minimal problems - you were also a hunter after all - but your body betrayed you. Left feeling weak and sluggish, Dean had the upper hand.

"Did you just realise the predicament you're in?" Dean taunted, leaning in close to your face. "You've gone all quiet. All bark and no bite huh?"

You were going to kill him.

But first you had to get out of this.

Dean used his free hand to squeeze up and down your ribs, making you twist and arch your back trying to get away. With one last moment of clarity, you braced your feet on the edge of the bed and tried to buck him off. He just hooked his fingers at the back of your ribs in retaliation, and you were a goner.

"Oh yeah," Dean was saying over your laughter, sounding way too smug, "that's the spot."

"You're dehehead, Winchester!" Laughter bubbled out of you like a broken dam.

"Try saying that again when you're not giggling."

This wasn't new to either of you. You'd both played this game before, the back and forth fuelling each others' energies. As Dean's hands wandered from spot to spot, you found yourself pulling down your walls.

"You're starting to look relaxed." Dean said from above you, slowing his hands to gentle tracing just above your hip bones. You cracked open an eye to get a look at him. The hard lines of his face had faded, and he looked…peaceful.

"Could say the same about you."

"What can I say," he replied, shifting off of you to lay heavily next to you, "you bring out my soft side." He paused. "Even if you're stubborn as a mule."

You whacked him in the chest, but there was no fight in it. Feeling boneless and melty, you let yourself shed the tension of last night's hunt. Dean's arm wrapped heavily around you. Eyes closed, you stretched your arm out and over Dean's side. He shifted to accommodate you, leaning his cheek against your head. With one last surge of energy you pinched Dean's side where your hand was resting. Your lips twitched at his strangled yelp.

"I'll remember that." His threat sounded weak with the tiredness overtaking him.

You hummed noncomittally, and drifted to sleep.

[atnightiscream]

The way I started blushing while reading this- I can't. You LITERALLY WROTE MY PERSONALITY TYPE and the COUNTER TO IT-!! Chuck have mercy-

[thebardnemo]

The Viral Twins

🌲Friends of the Laughing Tree🪶

Nemo went about her merry business, humming and tidying around the base of the Laughing Tree when it whispered: New York. The tree spirit gasped with delight, dropping a pile of sticks and zooming away towards another story.

But when Nemo arrived, she found an ominous building under the guise of a hospital. The spirit hesitated, feeling something vile seep from the building, something malicious. But she gathered her courage and floated inside. She'd found stories for the Laughing Tree in darker places, she could handle it... But this time, Nemo almost couldn't. There was suffering in this place, a great deal of it. It was overseen by a vicious being, one that was sentient and clever. In its presence, she feared it would see her, but to her relief, it couldn't perceive her. The being was focused on an angry man–it's... son?–that emanated the same malicious aura. In a disappointed huff, the being dismissed the man's presence. Curious, Nemo followed him... until he approached another just like him, his twin. At that moment, the man's face softened as the woman excitedly spoke to him and he laughed, joining her as they lead Nemo to a place where others awaited their company. Nemo observed the group, chatting, playing games and to her delight–tickling. Though the tickling was focused mostly on the twins, who enjoyed the attention. For the first time since Nemo arrived, she relaxed. A man who appeared to be the one twin's partner was embracing him during a moment of respite. Feeling mischievous, Nemo floated over to inspire the twin to tickle his partner back. The two tumbled to the floor as the rest of the room observed in amusement. Nemo giggled. For all the pain here, there was something stronger present–something healing. A kind of joy that drew the tree spirit back to the hospital again and again...

A/N: A gift from the Laughing Tree for @shubbiewubbie, starring her OCs: Dalton and Remy, who I adore so much! They are so sweet and deserve so, so many tickles! Thank you so much for sharing your characters, stories, and worlds with us, Shun! You're an amazing creator and a good person 🫂.

Thanks again for visiting the Laughing Tree~

[atnightiscream]

NEMOOOO your WRITING!! eeee! It's so whimsical and you capture the idea of this little spirit floating between the worlds 🥰

[carrie-tate]

Idk if you ever plan to return to your PJO ideas, but concept: lee!Tyson?

Yes, but before moving on to new requests, I'll deal with one that I've been looking at for probably a week now? it's been so long, my old drawings for pjo are already two years old, God, but

TYSON. YES

MA SON

[atnightiscream]

AAAAHHHH!! BABY BOOOOY!!

[terraswallows]

Today is International Transgender Day of Visibility.

Don't forget to repost.

[atnightiscream]

🥳 Happy day to my trans friends!! I'm so glad you're all here with us. 🫂

[atnightiscream]

When all the when have of the do you to Tumblr account of how the posts because it is still a message you don't get when you have because you don't want to be when you're not going. You get me?

Bestie, I am far too depressed to even start-