#spn ticklefic

[ticklishraspberries]

42 (Dean/Cas)

Summary: The morning of Dean’s 42nd birthday is full of laughter. (Happy birthday Dean Winchester!!! I actually baked a real cake today in his honor, even though my family thought I was crazy. This fic is sort of a fix-it, the ending was bullshit kinda thing, so Sam/Eileen are endgame, and Jack is a child again! I hope y’all enjoy the fic!)

On the morning of his forty-second birthday, Dean Winchester wakes up to soft kisses being pressed to the smattering of freckles on his shoulders, and he lets out a content, yet sleepy grumble.

“Mornin’ sunshine,” he says.

“Happy birthday,” Cas replies, the words muffled as his lips are still pressed to Dean’s skin.

Rolling onto his back, Dean puts a hand on his partner’s cheek and pulls him down for a kiss.

Birthdays were never something that Dean experienced as a child. After his fourth birthday, he was lucky if his father even remembered it. His seventeenth birthday was the only one that stuck out from the past, and it was a bitter, painful memory.

Of course, Sam remembered his birthday, but they were usually too caught up in the apocalypse or some other insane shit to really celebrate.

But now, Dean doesn’t live from motel to motel, prepared to die bloody on the next hunt. Now, he goes to sleep in a warm bed beside the love of his life, after he puts Jack to bed, of course, and when he wakes up, he cooks breakfast and drops Jack off at school, and spends his day working on cars and FaceTiming with Eileen and Sam (he’s picked up on quite a bit of ASL because of them, and seeing Eileen light up with joy when Dean masters a new word fills his chest with warmth.)

Of course, Sammy is still doing the job, just less often now. Him and Eileen make a fantastic team, and they’re planning to get married next spring.

And, Dean and Cas are...Well, they’re Dean and Cas, just now they aren’t afraid to put a name to the bond they share. Ever since they got Cas back from the Empty, things have been good.

“I made pancakes,” Cas says. “Jack wanted to bring them to you in bed, but I thought you might like to sleep in.”

A smile curls on Dean’s face. “You’re the best.”

“We should probably go out there before he bursts in with the card he made you.”

His heart nearly bursts at the mention of Jack making him a card, but his mind is still foggy with sleep, and he wraps his arms around Cas and hugs him close. “Five more minutes.”

“You’ve had enough beauty sleep, birthday boy,” Cas argues, but still snuggles closer anyway.

“I’m an old man now, babe, I gotta get my eight hours in.”

“It’s been more like ten.”

Dean just grumbles in response, and he’s ready to start dozing off again when he feels fingers pressing into his ribs, and stiffens.

“Cas, don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he replies innocently.

With a huff, Dean tries to push his hands away, but he’s effectively made his limbs quite useless by pulling Cas on top of him. “It’s my birthday, you’re not allowed to be mean to me.”

“How am I being mean?” Cas asks. “I’m just trying to get the festivities started on your special day. The longer you sleep, the less time we have to celebrate.”

“That’s such bullsh—Ah!” His half-hearted protest is cut short with a bark of laughter when Cas starts tickling him, not even half as cruel as he could be, but it still tickles like hell, and Dean is a squirming mess in seconds.

“Cas!” he whines, chuckles building in his chest as quick fingers move up and down his ribcage, playing his sensitive spots like piano keys.

“Jack and I worked hard on those pancakes, Dean. It’s very rude of you to sleep through your own birthday breakfast,” Cas replies, but Dean can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Okay, okay, I’ll get up!” he exclaims, and Cas lets up quickly, pressing an apologetic kiss to his jaw.

They lay there for a moment as Dean catches his breath, before Cas rolls out of bed and looks at Dean expectantly.

Dean groans. “Alright, alright, I’m comin’.”

The pancakes are really good, and the card Jack made him makes a few tears come to Dean’s eyes, although he blinks them back in favor of pulling the kid into a giant hug, picking him up off the floor and swinging him around, making Jack giggle manically.

This is how birthdays are supposed to be, Dean thinks. Full of love and light and laughter. And after all these years, he has exactly that.

[azurethevampire]

Hey! First off just want to say I love you’re posts they are amazing and I was wondering if you could maybe write a supernatural fic where dean and sam’s sister are being annoying and they tickle her to stop being “a pain in the a**” I completely understand if you don’t wanna write it. But I still appreciate it for reading my recommendation. :)

Thank you for your sweet words! :) Here’s some sibling love for you with our favourite Winchester brothers and their sister - the reader. Hope you like it!

Fandom: Supernatural

Characters: Dean Winchester x Sam Winchester x sister!reader

Words: 1474

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"Are we there yet?"

"No." 

"Oookay… Are we there now?" 

"No!"

A smirk tugged at the corners of your lips as you opened your mouth again. "Well, what about-"

"So help me God, Y/N!" Dean barked suddenly, cutting you off as his fingers tightened on the steering wheel and he sent you his stern glare through the rearview mirror. "You ask one more time when we get there, I'll pull this car over and you won't like what happens then." 

You rolled your eyes. "Fine, oh so scary big brother." 

Dean settled to send you one more glare through the mirror. Sam, your other brother, turned in his seat to take a better look at you. "You're really asking for it today, aren't you?" 

Shrugging your shoulders, you went to pick your cuticles. "I'm bored of sitting in the car all day!" You complied, and for good measure - just because you felt like it, even though you knew it made you look like a damn five-year-old with a tantrum and that it definitely wasn't something to do to Baby - you let your foot kick the back of the front seat. Not once. Twice.

Your kicks weren’t those ferocious kicks you had sometimes, unfortunately, had to use on both men and monsters before, much to both of your brothers’ dismay. Sam and Dean would have prefered to keep you out of the family business but with you carrying the name Winchester, could anyone really expect you to stay fully out of it? Hell, at this point you thought that hunting was just in your blood, no way around it. So, yes, you had given some hard time to some monsters during your young life and you knew how to make a killer-kick - if you do say so yourself - and you kicking the back of the front seat was pathetic compared to those kicks. 

Unfortunately for you, Dean didn't see it the same way you did. You let out a surprised squeal as your body jerked forward when your oldest brother’s foot hit on the brake pedal. “That’s it!” 

 Before you could utter the curse words which threatened to escape from your mouth, Dean had pulled the Impala on the side of the road and was out of the car. Your heart began to beat faster as your brother’s fingers grasped the handle of the back door. “Shit!” you said as you saw the look on Dean’s face. You were in on it now! 

In retrospect, you knew better. But at the time, you couldn’t form a coherent thought as your fight or flight response kicked in. Desperate attempt to avoid Dean, you made to jump into the front seat before the back door had been opened an inch. You had every intention to jump out of the car and run from the path of your brother’s wrath before he could so much as utter your name. There was one thing you forgot, though. Sam. 

Maybe it was because you hadn’t really even stop to consider for one second the possibility that the taller brother of yours who usually took your side most of the time, would now go against you. Alright, maybe Sam had his limits too, and maybe you had annoyed both of your brothers today ever since you had left that crappy motel room behind in the morning. 

So, no, maybe it shouldn’t have surprised you as much as it did when Sam’s arms reached around your waist before you could escape the car, pulling you against him. “Oh no, sister, you don’t”, he said in his best no-nonsense voice, the same tone he had used when you were just a little girl and would be in trouble for something or the other thing you had either done or hadn’t done. 

“No!” 

“You have been nothing but a pain in the ass all day, Y/N. Don’t pretend you don’t deserve this”, Dean grounded out as he sat on the back seat and reached with both his hands to pull you back into the back seat of the car. In moments like these, you cursed that your brothers were much stronger than you. 

During the next minute or less, you couldn’t really do anything but to try and squirm free as Dean dragged you over his lap and held you there. Sam slipped into the backseat with you two. The backseat suddenly felt much more crowded when there were two grown men sitting on the seat and one teenager sprawled over them. When Sam took hold of your legs, you tried to wiggle and squirm away with even more ferocity than before. You knew what it meant when your big brothers ganged up on you like this. 

And to this day, you weren’t sure whether you hated or liked it more. Probably depended on the situation, you decided. Like right now, you definitely hated (at least a part of you did) what was inevitably coming. 

You saw your brothers’ exchange a glance and a nod, and the next second there were fingers digging to your armpits, stomach and sides. 

“Nhoohoooh!” You tried to wiggle free or stop giving Dean access to under your arms but your brother made it difficult by keeping your hands above your head with his free hand. “Pleeashh-!” you couldn’t make anything coherent come out of your mouth between your laughs and shrieks as the fingers relentlessly left no spot untouched by the tickle-attack. 

“Serves you right!” Dean said as he dragged his fingers over your neck and behind your ear, causing you to shake your head in a fruitless effort of getting him to stop. 

“You have been giving us an attitude the whole day, young lady. First, we can’t get you out of bed, then you complain about missing breakfast and when we stop to get you some food the complains only increase - you’re acting like a petulant little child, and it stops, now!” Sam lectured, and you felt his hands dug to your sides. 

You were laughing so much you could hardly breathe now and water fell freely from your eyes. “I-I’m… SOr-sorrhhyy!!” 

Your brothers’ hands stilled when they saw you began to really have trouble breathing from all the laughing you did. Smiles were planted on Dean and Sam's faces. Hearing your laughter was a welcomed change from all the whines and complaints you had doled on them ever since they finally got you up from the bed. 

Dean let go of your hands and moved to stroke your hair while you tried to get some oxygen back to your lungs. 

"You ready to behave now, sweetheart?" Dean asked, looking down at you. 

You had to thought about the answer for a bit. Surely, you felt better now than you had all day, but if you were completely honest with yourself you weren't sure if you could keep your attitude in check for the rest of the day. It was just one of those days. 

Sam nudged your feet gently when he got tired of waiting for your response. You turned gaze to look at the younger of your two big brothers and smirking you tried to kick him. He caught your foot easily and ran his fingers over your calf making you giggle and hide your face against Dean's stomach. 

"What was that?" Sam asked when you muttered something incoherent against your brother's shirt. 

Turning your head you reached out with both your hands and grabbed Sam's hand with one and Dean's with other. "I said: I'm sorry for acting like a brat today. Neither of you deserves it", you said. Then you tried to do your best impression of puppy-eyes. "Forgive me, please?" 

"Aww man, how can anyone stay mad at that face?" Dean groaned, making Sam and you chuckle. 

Sam poked your side gently. "Just next time, give us a heads-up when you're feeling like it's gonna be a bad day, okay?" 

You nodded. "I'll try, I promise." 

Dean dropped a kiss to your forehead. "That's all we can ask of you, sweetheart. Now, why don't you try and lie down for a bit, it's still going to take us a while until we reach Lebanon", Dean suggested, although the underlying tone in his voice hinted it wasn't a suggestion at all, but rather an order. 

"Not a bad idea at all, Y/N", Sam butted in his opinion on the matter. 

"I don't know", you drawled out, a smile that could only be described as cheeky forming on your face. "I'm already lying down, after all." 

"He-hey!" You tried to protest between you giggles as Dean's fingers suddenly danced up and down your neck and Sam mercilessly attacked your stomach. 

And soon you were a giggling and squirming mess all over again until your brothers decided you had had enough. 

[unluckywrench]

Brushing Up

A little ficlet/drabble based on a story Richard Speight Jr. told about Jared giving him grief over owning a hairbrush.

Shout out to @wordstrings​ for critiquing this for me and offering sound advice.

“Gabe, c’mon please,” Sam pleaded as he tested the straps keeping his arms and legs together.  He was laid out on one of the leather sofas in the bunker, with his bare feet hanging over the arm.  The bindings were an obnoxiously bright pink leather that crisscrossed his torso and held him immobile yet expanded and contracted as he breathed.  Sam knew he was in trouble for making fun of Gabriel, but he didn’t think it’d end like this.  “I said I’m sorry.  Can’t you let it go just this once?”

 Even from five feet away, Gabriel still managed to loom.  Gabriel sat across the room in an armchair, one leg crossed over his knee and fingers steepled in contemplation. He watched Sam squirm, taking in his reactions the same way a sommelier would taste a rare vintage , and allowed himself a quick sip of the surface emotions and thoughts going through his mind – a sweet mélange of excitement and apprehension.  Oh yes, Sam was sorry now, but when Gabriel was through, he’d be a blubbing ball of contrition. His gaze stopped at the end of the sofa, and he gave a gentle smirk as Sam tried to hide his feet from Gabriel’s gaze.

“Afraid not, Sam.  You broke a commandment today.  What kind of angel would I be if I let that go unpunished?”

 The room suddenly felt much more crowded as the archangel’s presence filled it up.  For a moment, by the way Gabriel was resonating power, Sam thought he had actually broken a commandment and Gabriel was about to become a wrathful archangel, not Sam’s rakish lover.  He looked into Gabriel’s whiskey eyes and got one of his signature winks.  Sam’s shoulders relaxed a bit when he realized he wasn’t about to be smote.  His shoulders tensed again as he watched Gabriel materialized a flat paddle hairbrush and began balancing it on the tip of one finger.

 “Which one?” Sam played along, with half nervousness and half anticipation for his just desserts.  He had a feeling that Gabe’s punishment wouldn’t be a bad hairstyle.  Already the specter of boar hair bristles against tender flesh was making him writhe in his bindings.

 “Thou shalt not insult an angel’s hair.”

 In hindsight, Sam should have known better, but it wasn’t his fault!  Gabriel’s hair was golden and beautiful.  With it always being perfectly trimmed, shiny, and smelling like vanilla, Sam was sure it was magic.  How was he to know that Gabriel spent nearly an hour in the morning styling it the old-fashioned way? And, yes, when Gabe asked to borrow his hairbrush, Sam could have been more gracious and not mocked him for owning one, but was it really worth all this?  He was about to apologize when he heard the snap.

 While Gabriel lounged in the same spot across the room, the hairbrush he had been holding earlier was now floating in midair at Sam’s feet.  The brush moved up and down both taut soles, in an agonizingly slow motion.

 “No, no, no please!” Sam managed before he was engulfed by gasping laughter.

 “Just a little something to help you brush up on your manners,Sammich.”  The archangel chuckled at his own wit, then directed the brush to keep the strokes light and teasing.  After all, this wasn’t a true punishment. As a couple, they did love their games, but he’d be lying if he said part of him wasn’t the tiniest bit annoyed at Sam.  He was so tall and smart; the kid was physical perfection… and he didn’t even have to work at styling his hair?  Dad certainly had a sense of humor.  He increased the pressure of the brush just a bit, for good measure.

 “Sorry!  I’m sorry!” Sam bit out through helpless giggles.  Gabriel just smiled and reclined in the chair.

 “Don’t worry, Sammikins,” Gabriel said, turning the television to Dr. Sexy with the flick of his wrist. “The brush will stop when it finishes my usual beauty treatment.”

 “H-how lohohong?” Sam bit out with some effort.  The bristles poked the tender spaces between his toes and he as losing composure.  

 “Only a thousand strokes a night,” Gabriel crowed and materialized himself a bowl of caramel corn.  He happily munched away as Sam’s eyes began to water with laughter.  As his hunter threw his head back on the cushy arm of the sofa, Gabriel had no doubt he would learn his lesson well.  For the next week, anyway.  

[wordstrings]

Hey community - are there any bloggers who might write a NSFW reader-insert SPN ticklefic/imagine? Someone came to me with a request that I’d be happy to pass along to an interested party. LMK and I’ll hook you up.

[ticklishraspberries]

Two Hunters Walk Into A Bar (Charlie/Eileen)

Summary: Charlie meets another hunter and gets the chance to brush up on her sign language skills, and possibly the chance at a romantic encounter. (Another fic for Femslash February! Warnings for sexual content and sexual acts while under the influence of alcohol.)

They met on a hunt, because how else would they meet?

Dean and Sam still weren’t thrilled about Charlie getting involved, but they would send her off on what they assumed were quick and easy jobs, just to keep her busy and out of the big stuff. While she scoffed at their protectiveness, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t find it sweet.

However, when she arrived at the little town that was suffering at the hands of some tricky ghosts, she was surprised to find another hunter already on the case.

Her bubbly nature had never kept Charlie from making friends before, but a language barrier certainly would have put a damper on it. Thankfully, a few semesters of ASL in college were under Charlie’s belt, which made it easy to communicate with Eileen, who was all big brown eyes and great aim with a gun.

Needless to say, Charlie had fallen quick, and hard, too.

The two women managed to put an end to the restless spirit, and celebrated with beers at the nearby bar.

“I never set out to be a hunter,” Charlie explained. “I just sort of got caught in the middle of a case, and afterwards, I felt like...Well, once you know what’s out there, how could you sit back and let it happen, you know? So my friends sort of showed me the ropes.”

Eileen watched her hands intently, sipping a beer.

Conversation continued until the two had wound up splitting a motel room, but their intentions weren’t just efficiency. No, the room was booked with just one bed on purpose, because it only took a beer or two to loosen them both up enough to lock lips.

Charlie unbuttoned her flannel shirt while Eileen wiggled out of her jeans. Both partially undressed, their lips found each other once again, all but tumbling backwards and onto the bed, the motel mattress creaking under the familiar weight of two lovers.

Eileen’s hands were calloused from years of wielding weapons, and her rough fingertips trailed from Charlie’s collarbones and down to the waistband of her pants, making the redhead shiver.

“This okay?” Eileen asked, using her voice which she’d only done a few times in front of Charlie so far, opting to sign since Charlie could understand her.

Charlie nodded. “Definitely,” she said, holding Eileen’s gaze so that she could see her lips. “Just careful: I’m ticklish.”

She realized it was a mistake instantly.

“Really?” Eileen asked, mischief dancing in those brown eyes.

Charlie swallowed. There was no use in denying what she’d just admitted, so she simply resigned to her fate and braced for impact.

Perhaps years of using her hands to communicate had made Eileen’s fingers her deadliest weapon: Quick, dexterous, and absolutely merciless as they danced over Charlie’s sides, making her squeal with laughter.

Eileen was grinning, pinching at the bottom of Charlie’s ribs and laughing along as Charlie’s back arched. She didn’t keep it up for long, but when she stopped, Charlie’s face was flushed pink and her breathing came in ragged pants.

Charlie slumped back against the bed. “You’re evil,” she signed.

Eileen was still grinning. “Sorry,” she replied, but it didn’t seem like she was sorry at all.

After Charlie caught her breath, the original plans for the evening commenced, but Eileen snuck in a few ticklish touches, causing breathy laughter to mix with moans. And while Eileen couldn’t actually hear those sounds, she had no doubt that they were beautiful.

The two hunters fell asleep beside one another, sheets tangled around their half-naked bodies. Charlie made sure to get her revenge in the morning, tickling Eileen’s belly until she woke up with giggles on her tongue.

But the case was over and done, and they both had to be on their ways. With Eileen’s number in her phone and the memory of poised fingers on her sides, Charlie left a tip for the maid who would be cleaning the room, and headed to her car.

As she hit the road, she decided: She was going to have to ask Dean and Sam for more cases when she got back.

[ticklishraspberries]

Scars (Dean/Cas)

Summary: Dean’s top-surgery scars are a positive memory. (I wanted to write some quick fics this month for pride. Here’s some trans!Dean content. I hope I portrayed his emotions/experiences well. I’m not a trans man so I am absolutely open to critique on how to write trans characters. Hope you enjoy!)

The scars are faded now.

Fine, pink lines on his chest from a surgery he had years ago, before Hell. And when Cas rebuilt his body and removed so many marks from bullet wounds, but the angel had left those two pink lines that meant so much to Dean Winchester.

He proudly walks around the bunker without a shirt on, declaring that he paid good money for the right to show his nipples off, thank you very much, Sammy!

In the most tender moments, too, his scars are special.

Laying beside Cas in bed, his angel reaches out to touch the mark gently, finger tracing it delicately despite it being long-since healed and not causing any pain, Cas treats them as gently as he treats all beloved things.

Sleepily, Dean cracks open an eye. “Like my battle scars, hm?” he asks, voice rough with sleep.

Cas rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “You know I do.”

“You better. Cost me an arm and a leg. And the recovery wasn’t so much fun, either.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t easy,” Cas replied. “It was after Sam went to college, right?”

Dean nodded. “Just me and ol’ John. He wasn’t thrilled about havin’ me useless in bed, but he went on hunts and left me in the motel with a first aid kit and some food.”

Shaking his head, Cas is clearly biting back a comment about John, as he so often has to. The thought of Dean alone and in pain after such an important moment in his life makes his heart ache.

“I wish I could have been there,” he says. “To take care of you.”

Dean flushes. “You’re a sap.”

His fingers have been absentmindedly continuing to trace the top-surgery scars, but Cas has a newfound vigor as he tickles across Dean’s ribs, leaning his face closer to pepper kisses along his chest.

The scars are faded now, yes, but they are still an ever-present, positive memory.

[ticklishraspberries]

I Know You (Dean/Cas)

Summary: Cas gets sappy post-sex, and Dean feels more in love than he ever has before. (Me? Ignoring my prompts to write a Supernatural fic? Likely. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy!! Warnings for mentions of sex, but like, vague.)

Dean is no stranger to the aftermath of sex. He’s done it with many women, a handful of men, too. However, in the past, it’s usually been a ‘put your clothes on and head out’ kind of deal, not...Not like this.

Cas has his face buried in the crook of Dean’s neck, the two of them still sweaty but too wiped out to care. Catching their breath, falling into a rhythm as their chests rose and fell in sync. It’s so peaceful, so totally a mushy, lovey-dovey moment that Dean never thought he’d be in—

And then, because his angel is an asshole, Dean feels fingers creep up his sides and he squirms.

“Don’t you dare,” he warns, but it’s a lost cause. Cas is already wiggling fingers across his ribs, making him spasm and laugh, batting at the offending hands. “Cahas!”

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it,” Cas replies, smiling. “You look so beautiful when you laugh like this.”

Dean’s laugh turns into a gentle whine. “Shut it, hotwings,” he said, but the way his cheeks flushed revealed he wasn’t so upset about the flattery.

“Do you not believe it when I tell you these things?”

Oh, here comes that famous question, Cas always poking and prodding (and no, not literally this time) about feelings. It’s sweet, of course, and Dean appreciates that he cares...But it makes him so damn embarrassed to voice these things.

He clears his throat. “This is really sexy pillow talk,” he says, trying to change the subject. He goes to roll off the bed, pull on his boxers and head for the showers, but Cas wraps his arms around his middle and pulls him close, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Please, stay.”

And so, Dean does. He lays back against the mattress and looks up at Cas with soft eyes. “You’re not gonna tickle me again, are you?” he asks, raising his brows.

Cas shakes his head with a laugh. “No. Not right now, at least,” he replies, a soft smile curled on his lips. “I just want you to hear something.”

Dean, for once, bites his tongue. He can crack another joke, he can push Cas off and flip their positions and kiss him to shut him up...But he doesn’t. He lays there, looking at Cas expectantly.

“I put you back together,” Cas says, his voice so soft yet somehow rugged, too. “I know you, Dean, down to every molecule, every atom...”

Dean’s breath stutters as Cas strokes his cheek, heart pounding in his chest.

“Every freckle, every scar. Each eyelash, tooth, and fingernail...” Cas continued, his hands moving down to rest on Dean’s shoulders. “I know you, inside and out, on the most intimate level imaginable...And you’re beautiful.”

Dean’s face burns. He isn’t one to embarrass easily, but Cas is staring at him so intensely, and his words are almost too much for him to handle, and his eyes fall to avoid Cas’ gaze, but a hand is quickly under his chin, coaxing him to lock green eyes with blue.

“I wish you knew how beautiful you are,” Cas says, earnestly. 

“Cas...” Dean croaks. “I—“

Cas leans down and kisses him to silence whatever inevitably argumentative reply Dean plans to give. He kisses him deeply, and Dean kisses him back like Cas is the only thing keeping him from drowning. In a way, he is. The last time that he lost Cas, he lost a piece of himself. He drank, slept too much or not enough, forgot himself more often than not.

When Cas came back, it was like a puzzle piece being put back where it belonged, in Dean’s chest, right where his heart resided.

And Cas, his sweet, sweet Castiel, is fawning over him as if he’s anything special?

“I know you don’t believe it,” Cas whispers against the skin of his cheek. “But you are the most beautiful man in all of Heaven and Earth, Dean Winchester.”

Tears prick at his eyes, and Dean blinks them back. “Hell, too?” he asks, unable to resist shattering the tension, desperate to divert the conversation from himself, the praise almost too much to bear.

Cas chuckles, a fond look sparkling in his eyes. “Hell, too. And Purgatory. Anywhere and everywhere,” he says.

Dean reaches out and pulls Cas down into a kiss again, and when the two of them fall asleep there, Dean feels safer and more loved than ever before. 

[wordstrings]

You talked about translation? Well if you ever want I’m almost done exams and could easily translate them in french no problème. I would send them back to you and you could repost them easy. You tell me if that’s what you want and I will obey! Hehe I’m wondering if I can get away with having maybe like every 2 translated fics you write another one haha. Blackmail! -BlushyLee

I’d have to blindly trust your skills, because I know nothing more than how to count to three in French – and even that is dubious. Would you be willing (or able) to come off anon so we can talk more about it without me having to yell my half of the conversation in public? 😄

—

anonymous said:

Weird question.if SPN ends will u still do fics?

Not necessarily a weird question! The honest answer is I don’t know. I mean, it’s not like the series finale would air and I’d immediately go radio-silent. There’s always life after death, even for TV shows. Hell, people are still writing Kirk/Spock slash, and those characters went decades with no new content (’09 reboot universe notwithstanding). I’m probably not going to be still writing SPN ticklefics at age 90, but between now and then, who knows? :)