#THIS IS GOING TO BE A ONESHOT. IM MANIFESTING IT. IT WILL NOT BE A NOVEL

[acaciapines]

and so the nimona daemon au begins :)

[kozykricket]

i really love how imagination based deltarune is, its about the whimsy of indulging in fiction, and... i wonder how much of that part of deltarunes like... well, one of its core deconstructions (i think its safe to call fiction That) but i wonder how much of that part was affected by UNDERTALE itself, because like

well i was reading an interview about margin of the strange, and its funny because. margin started as a thing before oneshot... but oneshot took some inspiration and ideas/tones from margin. but now margin is actually becoming a game, and it can learn from what oneshot did and i think ... its p similar to undertale and deltarune from what we know. like. deltarune hometown wasnt going to have any monsters in the original concept, as toby said. im sure he decided on that after he started making monsters for undertale... and, well, theres a lot of things, again theres a really big post on frisk, chara, and the player, comparing them to kris and the player... that i wanna make (will probably be an addon to this post) but this post right now is about...

im curious how tobys EXPERIENCE with UNDERTALE has effected his views of fiction. clearly he was already involved in like, indulging in fiction, yknow. as a Gamer and also in fandoms like homestuck... creation was no stranger to him but, had he created something incredibly massive? no, he hadnt. but now that he's created undertale, i feel like... surely, even if in subtle ways, that must've added to his perspective around the creation of fiction and ... him experiencing *firsthand* how your creation can grow so much that it almost becomes not yours. i just think its interesting to think of. ive said it before but ill say it again: i love when games' settings or themes are based around fiction, escapism, or just like. has stuff manifesting from imagination / thoughts. and to add to that, i think in general Creating Things about Creation is pretty cool. like, chicory is a game that talks a lot about being an artist and... deltarune may very well kinda reflect being a creator of stories, as toby does. i think with undertale under his belt, perhaps he has more to reflect and show in that sense who knows? all i know is that i appreciate when i can look into something that someone made when it like... really gives insight into what their values and thoughts are as a person. like ive said this before but i think... yknow, people who say "oh skies forever blue is a deltarune lore hint!!" is like. thats silly

but also, its valuable to, in a broader sense, analyze the ways that a writer like toby likes to think about. his perspectives and thoughts around metanarratives, the things he likes to do... like i think "the greatest living show" shows hes a fan of the theming of puppeteering of a living person, on a surface level viewing anyways. which of course we can use to be like "yeah thats definitely something that he's diggin into more in deltarune" and skies forever blue goes into... whaddya know, meta concepts in games. thats just like, something toby clearly likes. games and playing with their save files if anything, skies forever blue would tell us more about undertale than about deltarune. i hope what im saying in this part comes across well. its just like "you can look at a writers other works to find out more about what they like to write about, what they like to deconstruct, and what interests them in general" ...but anyways.. i really want to make a big post sometime about how i fully believe Kris to be a more refined take on something that was only a sort of Experiment in undertale: frisk and chara i think theres a reason its a headache to talk about those two in undertale, because... i dont think it was really the main focus of undertales metanarrative necessarily speaking. yes, they are the vessel for the metanarrative, but the metanarrative isnt ABOUT controlling a protagonist as a Player of a game. its... close, but its a bit more of a "first try" at what kris as a character does. is what i think anyways i have some good points ive noted down in a decent sized document about the whole situation with the red soul and the humans and the player and. yeah. part 2 to this post may come. (also i just think kris is really awesome and cool)

[johnslittlespoon]

JUST FINISHED EPISODE SEVEN AND I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY BUT IM SORRY. THE TEASER FOR THE NEXT EPISODE. GALE AND JOHN WRESTLING IN THE MUD TO CREATE A DIVERSION. @curtsbigspoon and i have literally been frothing thinking about oneshot ideas for weeks that involve the two of them wrestling and accidental stimulation etc etc something something hell is hot. i cannot believe we're going to get fed like this i think we manifested it

[definitelynotshouting]

WOULD YOU STILL LOVE ME IF I WAS A WORM 😭😭😭😭 WHAT A THING TO WAKE UP TO!

-☀️

Oh my god thw wings being a physical manifestation of how Mumbo doesnt know Grian anymore. He is an entirely new person, definitely mentally, technically physically-- even if he looks the same. Mumbo honing in on the wings ("his wings ruffle...behind him" "it's a foreign motion...that escapes translation") that are the thing that's different and needs a "map" drawn of it, because it's the only thing that's actually different. Sure, Mumbo can tell grian doesnt even act the same anymore, but that's much harder to put a finger on. He didnt have those wings before.

^I like to think there's some form of uncanny valley effect that people who knew Grian before feel looking at him now, ignoring the wings.

-☀️

"Then he smiles, porcelain teeth flashing in the glistering sun.

The cold, open pit of his depthless eyes fails to catch it."

Really fucking love this description ough

-☀️

"“You’re not supposed to change me back!” Grian shrills, bristling."

IT'S TOO EARLY IN THE MORNING FOR THIS TEM WTF (it is past 10am)

-☀️

"with the exquisite delicacy of a Player"

I SEE YOU YOURE NOT SNEAKY

-☀️

The wings again!! *is in distress* (side note i love seeing the world building youve been telling us about finally in the fic!!) Ok this actually makes the way Mumbo focused on the wings mean so much more. Wings are dangerous to code in, thats why Players use spotters. Grian vanished from Evo and showed up on Hermitcraft YEARS(?) later, without a word to anyone, and reappeared with those wings. Imagine going on a trail with a friend whose never hiked before and then they stop responding to your messages only to show up again after a couple of months like "Hey I just climbed Everest". You would most definitely be distressed to say the least. (although, question: how proficient was grian's coding?)

-☀️

Man this one-shot. Too many feels this early in the morning 😭 The way you've managed to capture that sense of unease around Grian. His actions are unpredictable- you dont know if he's going to laugh or get upset- really nicely encapsulates Mumbo's internal feeling that he doesn't know grian anymore. Those moments where he laughs or stares with those blank eyes, those are normal-- but linger a second too long, or catch a glimpse of the worlds that have passed since Evo started-- and he can't shake the feeling that something is wrong with Grian

-☀️

AAAAAAAAA HI SUN ANON!!! omg im so glad you enjoyed the oneshot!!! :D

Omg YES im so so glad what i was aiming for with the wings came through, thats exactly what i was going for!! This is the only physical indication that Grian has changed, and therefore the most distinct!!! Ofc Mumbo is gonna hone in on that-- its the clearest aspect he can see. And yeah, i think the first few times people saw him with the wings, it was definitely a little uncanny valley, until they got used to it

OKAY I'LL BE REAL THE EXQUISITE DELICACY BIT WAS NOT INTENTIONAL BUT IS A VERY HAPPY ACCIDENT ALDJWKDNEKNDKDE altho i did really enjoy messing with some wordplay in other areas. My particular favorite is the "inner machinations of a dropper" line-- it was such a fun way to refer to mechanical parts while simultaneously making it sound like the dropper is up to no good 😂😂😂😂😂😂

It was super nice to really put this aspect of the worldbuilding into the fic-- one of these days i'll probably rewrite chapters 1 and 2, and maybe do a little editing on 3, just so i can sorta bake those concepts in there with a little more deliberation than i did when i was first posting :] BUT YES altho its not so much dangerous (for a Player, at least) as it is difficult, and very finicky. Grian's coding is super proficient as a Player (he's still working on melding the instinctive coding of the Watchers with his Player brain tho), so he was always very capable of it, but like you pointed out, under normal circumstances he would have 100% asked someone to be his spotter while he coded them in, just in case he bugged out

And yep, we're talking a timespan of years here!!! This is a bit loose, so its subject to some minor changes, but my general timeline is that Grian, once Watcher-ified, was trapped with the Watchers for about 2-3 years before he made his escape. After that he bounced between hubs and servers for a few months, before ending up on Hermitcraft to stay. The fic itself takes place somewhere around early mid-season, i think-- since i headcanon each season to take place over a few years rather than a few months, i'd say this means Grian has been with Hermitcraft for, oh.... a little under a year now by the time this fic takes place, if that makes sense. Again these are not concrete but thats the general timeframe we're talking here. I'll probably make a separate post about this later, but in Player culture its not SUPER weird to go gallivanting on your own for a few years-- but the complete radio silence and abrupt exit from Evo are what make this notable from the norm to Mumbo and everyone else who knew Grian before

Im so deeply and genuinely happy that the sense of unease came across so well-- i was admittedly worried that the pacing was a bit fast for how Grian's reactions kept turning on a dime, but this reassures me that it works :] i wanted it to really feel like this is a familiar stranger we're looking at through Mumbo's eyes, and also i wanted to give Grian some room to display those uglier trauma symptoms that nobody talks about much in fiction. I like to think that first year back on Hermitcraft was a difficult one for him, mood-wise, because behind that rough facade his brain is about as scorched-earth as it fuckin gets

Sun anon i always ADORE your analysis thank you so so much for sending them 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 it makes my day every time, truly. Im so glad you liked the fic!!! :D

[puck-luck]

TODAY is a writing day!! IM GOING TO FINISH THE JARVY ONESHOT AND THEN WRITE SOMETHING ELSE FOR MONDAY! We can do it. Manifestation.

[aracelysdelusion]

Hiiiii I don't have an ao3 account but I'm super glad that I can at least message you here! I wanted to say that your fic is SO good and it's a perfect blend of canon (i.e. Kaveh's/Alhaitham's relationship) and absolute unhinged comedy (Mehrak omg) -- and I love how Alhaitham is soooo soft yet also wary at the same time?? and Kaveh's angst? It's so good because Kaveh doesn't intentionally want to be angsty but his self-depreciation manifests at the most inconvenient times,, Thank you so much for writing this masterpiece! Please take the time you need, but I'll be looking forward to each update :D

IM ABSOLUTELY HORRIBLE AT REPLYING TO COMMENTS ON TIME, YOU KNOW THE WHOLE SCHOOL 5 DAYS A WEEK TYPE THING BUT I LOVE THAT YOU LOVE MY WORK. LIKE GENUINELY THE FACT YOU TOOK TIME OUT OF YOUR DAY TO NOT TO COMMENT ON MY AO3 BUT GO ON MY TUMBLR AHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH IT MADE MY DAY READING THIS. :')

I'm taking a small break of AIUG to work on a Spy/Office AU oneshot for my upload this week, but I'll be back to uploading chapter 5 next week. ♪~ ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ Hopefully it'll be just as enjoyable as the rest of my writing <3

Psst... dropping the writing spotify playlist for it that I'm currently listening to...

[faorism]

3, 16, 20 for the fic writer ask!

03. what work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)? a the first answer to this will be what i'll talk about in the answer to 20, so the next up is new world to be won [leverage ot3, rated e]. it features small dick short king eliot. i feel like when people say size kink they are thinking about huge schlongs, and this fic was my way to be like yall get on my level and appreciate. well, that was the intention. while that certainly happened, what im most proud of is how funny the fic is? the summary says a lot about the fic: "Parker and Hardison love a short king… right until, along with Eliot, they have to establish an alternative reality post-French Revolution socialist state in their bed."

16. what’s your most common “additional tags” tag? fanart, submissive eliot spencer (wow i... have published less fic than i thought?? i really have been just drawing drawing drawing huh)

20. which work of yours have you reread the most? absolutely with a love so deep and warm and true [leverage ot3, rated e]. this 55k beast consumed me for months. it began as a short bulletpoint list of, oh what if i wrote about parker sharing beds, won't that be neat. and it just grew and grew and grew. i think the length in and of itself is enough to be proud of. but more than that, i think i really got into parker's head. i really thought about parker's life and presented forty years of characterization and history, that also ties into the expansive world in my head for my of hearth and home series. and i did so while handling some really heavy concepts, most of which i can completely understand why i think most people are hesitant to read it or engage.

while i think i did not come up with wildly original backstory points for parker (meaning, the violence she faced growing up, and her being autistic), i am so proud of how intricately, seriously, and attentively i wove the story. i had so many motifs going, so many emotional tie-ins, that i genuinely think its (to kinda toot my own horn) a smart piece of writing? like, if you look at bre's section, you can tell how much i was thinking about the sections with parker's foster siblings. if you look at how i discuss archie, nate, and parkers foster father, you can see how i always held the three together in dialogue. and tbh the thing im most proud of is that i believe i presented a fully realized, paced story of a survivor of violence reckoning with her trauma. it manifests in different ways, many of which i dont explicitly say besides that they are all written within a single fic. but, idk, i do a lot of work around recovery, healing, and trauma so this really did right by my nonfandom research and writing.

BASICALLY i love this fic and it was so much fucking work and i wrote it for me and it includes all of my most precious headcanons, and there's this one line that eliot whispers to parker to tease her that literally fucking gives me goosebumps with how scandalous it is. i think its sexy and funny and sweet and thoughtful and yEAH IM BRAGGING, LEAVE ME ALONE, i wrote a 55k oneshot omg.

[gasmeros]

ask game: Anger is also a trauma response and Dumbass (affectionate) pretty please

I genuinely love all your ideas

aaaa you're so sweet

so the first one is my own take on an atla fanfic trope ive seen a lot of, which is basically after the boiling rock in s3, zuko is super jittery around hakoda cuz he has dad trauma. but like, while i enjoy the hurt/comfort in most of these fics, im kinda bothered by the complete lack of anger/lashing out in most of them. it's part of fandom's tendency to woobify the whumpee so to speak. file em down the the perfect demure victim. dont like that much. SO. it's basically a fic where zuko feels unsafe around hakoda and it manifests in him being grumpy and angry and really not nice to hakoda at all, or anyone for that matter

this one is meant to be a oneshot for sure, and has been sitting at 926 words for over a year lol. content warnings for uhh, anger?? as a trauma response?? shouting.....? i guess child abuse, but that's just cw: zuko tbh. this one is all just plotting and should probably be in my mini wips document but i haven't moved it yet. so here's the climax plotting to enjoy

fun to have a break scene like they usually happen, hakoda shouts for some reason or moves too fast towards on of this kids and zuko thinks he's going to hurt them, and there's the usual fanfic response (zuko either flinches real fuckin bad at shouting, or moves to protect the kids from hakoda). things are different though, cuz instead of zuko's nervous protection or sudden panic over misunderstanding the situation, he just gets mad. like, mad mad. like, "i thought he was mad before but hooo boy i was wrong" mad. he yells at hakoda, and maybe hakoda's finally figured it out finally, so he doesn't get as defensive as he usually would. but the sibs havent quite gotten it yet, so everything dissolves into a huge fight between all the kids.

water sibs are pissed about how zuko's treating their dad, zuko maybe doesn't see his shift in behavior and denies it, aang brings up that no actually you're kinda really bad around him, and then toph jumps in like well maybe if hakoda wasnt a bossy bitch we wouldnt have problems, and it just keeps fuckin going. zuko feels called out and, in the throes of an angry trauma response, is gonna react with hostility, and that wont help anything. (aang? "you've been acting really weird." zuko "how would you know what's weird? you don't know me enough to know what's weird. maybe im just an angry fucking person.")

at some point hakoda tries to get everyone to chill, but believe it or not, him raising his voice to be heard isn't very helpful in this moment. so zuko responds by quite literally telling hakoda to fuck off, and the water sibs get even more defensive, and yeah that made it worse. great. eventually hakoda resorts to nudging one of the kids to try and calm things down, cuz he knows he cant do anything here. aang or suki? aang as avatar mediator is nice, but gotta see where everyone stands emotionally at this point.

eventually things end with zuko storming off, and maybe the implication that that might've been it for zuko being part of the group? obviously everyone's kinda reluctant when that idea is brought up, but katara and zuko's tempers are butting heads, so no one else really gets a say when they seem to come to the conclusion that it's over. and then zuko storms off, and aang is panicked cuz first of all emotions, but secondly firebending teacher??? toph goes after zuko and the others sit and have a chat about what just happened.

i have no idea if i wanna finish this one. while i stand by my sentiment that a lot of whump disregards anger as a valid fear response because it's not "cute", i dont know if i actually think zuko would feel unsafe around hakoda. like, it's soemthing you could definitely argue, but i dont know if i care enough to be the one arguing it agdjgsjf (also i feel kinda rude with this fic cuz it's quite literally me going "i dont like how anyone wrote this ._." and that's meeean)

ok dumbass (affectionate). you know that one scene in s3 dragon episode where aang just goes "i dont care what everyone says, you're pretty smart zuko" and zuko smiles for like a second before he figures out wtf aang just implied, and we get like 4 frames of him going >:0 as he slides out of frame? that scene killed me, but ALSO. what if i made it angsty

basically there's a sort of recurrent theme in atla where zuko gets called dumb in various ways. azula's everything, iroh's valid criticism of his lack of forethought, this scene. and im like, man that would build up if you heard that kinda shit your whole life, especially if there were some valid criticisms to make like the ones to zuko's rashness. so like. new to the gaang zuko not being really able to adapt to the friendly ribbing the gaang does when it comes to calling him dumb, zuko feeling basically bullied and therefore not close to the gaang at all, and the gaang eventually figuring out how he feels and going "oh shit wait no" and preceeding to maoe zuko feel even MORE mocked by making a hard u turn into genuine praise of his cleverness and general smarts. it ends happy i swear agfjhsbf (there is no ending atm)

this one is also a oneshot, 1,067 words. no real content warnings beyond yknow, dont read it if you dont like the premise i explained

this one i stopped because i have issues with executive dyfunction and also i had to go find references to every time zuko got called dumb in the show and i love to put off tasks. cuz of the executive dyfunction

"We could—" He stops before he really gets anywhere, shakes his head, and wishes they'd ignore him. "Nevermind."

But they've all got their eyes on him now, and he's the genius who picked the lull in the conversation to interrupt, so no one's exactly itching to move on. There's just the quiet, where everyone's hoping someone else will have something to say. And Zuko's gone and offered up his idiotic somethings.

"Got an idea, Sparky?" Toph asks.

"No, it’s dumb. Don't worry about it."

Sokka shrugs, and Zuko can't tell if it's because he really doesn't care or if that's just what he expected to hear. "We're fresh out of not dumb ideas, so..."

Right. Throw everything at a wall and see what sticks. Zuko suppresses a sigh. "My family has a vacation house on Ember Island. I know for a fact that no one will be there. Really, we purposefully avoid it. And it's nearby."

The group is silent, and Zuko wants to melt into the ground.

"I said it was stupid."

"No, no, hold on." Sokka's got a hand on his chin, stroking it in a weird mix of actually serious and playing it up. "That could work."

Zuko feels himself frowning. "You don't have to patronize me."

"No, really! It's the last place anyone would think to find us! It's so stupid, it might actually work!"

Great.

[diodellet]

Hello, just passing by (・ω・)ノ

I’d like to ask 4, 6, 7, and 37 from the Fanfiction Writing Asks >:3

HELLOW BESTIE THANK U FOR D ASK 💕💕 (at sa wakas ito ang pangbreak ko muna before i churn out some more smoots mWEHE)

4. How do you choose which fics to write?

Uh, I don't choose them, they choose me 💅 BAHAHA in other words, i could be chipping away at a draft for extra manifestation points in upcoming banners but 👁️all 👁️of 👁️a 👁️sudden 👁️ I'll pass out and wake up to Tumblr draft of a completely new oneshot/smutshot (++3 new unrelated and tangential drafts in my wip folders)

but on a more serious note: sometimes it depends on what brainrot's consuming me, other times it depends on whether i have a song that's playing on repeat in my head. I jump from wip to wip a lot like parkour so I just pick whatever fic is closest to being publish-worthy.

personally, i don't enjoy the process of writing to a deadline (like for a charac's bday or for keenktober for example). i already have enough of those in my uni I mainly just write at my own pace and polish along the way. Really I'm grateful for the readers of mine who stick around despite my garbage erratic upload ethic, truly not all heroes wear capes :'')

6. What's the last line you wrote?

oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck you caught me writing thirst for the enth time--

"On the stool, you kept your posture ramrod straight, hands folded in your lap and thighs pressed together. Your gaze was pointed downwards. Back to the shy, reserved person you were around him."

what's the context? uhh well.. SECRET MUNA!! im not gonna publish it yet i just need to get the first setting down ahaha 👀👀

7. Post a snippet from a wip.

HAY. HAY NAKU. we'll go with something sfw first. if i get more q's asking specifically from my other smoots tho--ay patay na aq

context? uh a gen fic with the angels insp'd by the celestial realm visit in s2.

37. What fic has been the hardest for you to write?

Maybe it would have to be Not Afraid? i mean angst and hurt/comfort is my go-to genre when it comes to fanfic but this also came from a relatively low point in my life. so what's made it difficult for me to continue writing it is my university's unbearable workload just trying to ease back into the emotions i was channeling then, but in a healthy/sustainable way. I really don't want to abandon it! but i think id have to be a bit less constrained by my irl chenenen to actually put out more chapters.

[gorgynei]

its officially been 200 days since we've seen the nein... conditions are harsh... but we will persevere...

[ao3gingerswag]

ok im GOINg to write this weekend im GOING TO WRITE THIS WEEKEND im going to WRITE this weekend im going to MAKE TIME TO WRITE THIS WEEKEND im MANIFESTING IT!!!!!!!!!!!

[miksykat]

i may or may not be writing henry stickmin fanfiction like a fucking beast right now and while there's a very solid possibility that it's not getting shared i felt like you all needed to know that i am writing more than i have in years ((and that i am in fact alive i just keep forgetting i have a tumblr that needs to be posted on))

[unalivejournal]

u mentioned only reading kripke era fic do you have a reclist 👀👀👀and if not could you link some of ur faves cuz the stuff that gets circulated the most right now is all like late late seasons fic and kripke era is my favorite too but im having trouble finding that many fics for it or even seasons 6-10 era which im fine with also. its just that like. the last five seasons were so bad that it makes fic generally worse too because people have to jump off of just Thee stupidest plot choices no matter how good their prose skills might be. but anyway yea if u have recs that would be awesome :)

hi anon i was thinking abt making a reclist and u just gave me the perfect excuse thank u

jess adamilligan’s kripke era fic recs

from making this ive learned that i never bookmark ANYTHING. sorry all of these r like….. 10k and under. i DO read longer fic but i don’t have any kripke era longfics bookmarked & tbh i prefer short oneshots

season one gen

disclaimer because it’s unfortunately needed: NONE of these are w*ncest! they’re all completely tagged as gen and i did not read them with the intent of consuming ship content.

Coaster Park by fogsrollingin, 10.4k, G, gen

Coaster Park had been experiencing an unusually high frequency of technical difficulties. Dean wouldn't have pulled a shift treating nauseated, heat-stroked, or dehydrated park-goers for that if he could've helped it, but when 'technical difficulties' were accompanied by rumors of things moving and stopping on their own in front of the operators' eyes, Dean had to throw down.

No historical tragedies or disasters in the area, ectoplasm, or EMF. Dean's only lead was a battered-looking kid that'd been coming to the park every day since it'd all started.

really interesting au fic! slightly ‘it’s a terrible life’. dean winchester is a hunter/EMT and sam wesson is a college kid destined to die on a roller coaster ride.

two basic motivating forces by sahwen, 7.8k, T, gen

He can’t cry, it’s not allowed; even as a child he was hushed into silence, whether his tears were from a long car ride or a late night or a raging fever. It’s never been an option, it’s never been an available outlet, and it’s not about to start being one just because he’s having an emotional breakdown on the bathroom floor.

Sam isn't only afraid of clowns.

BIG emetophobia tw (both for graphic depictions of nausea/vomiting and for the fact that this fic is about sam suffering from emetophobia) for this one but it’s my favorite sickfic. portrays anxiety over getting sick really well and is a fascinating examination of the different ways that sam’s fear of loss of control can manifest itself. also has lovely brothers content <3

Let’s Start at the Very Beginning (Remix of Just as Easy as 123) by nwspaprtaxis, 4k, T, gen

Dean’s functionally illiterate and Sam’s determined to remedy it...

PLEASE READ THIS ONE god it’s so sweet. dean never learned how to read properly due to his nomadic childhood and sam teaches him how.

dean/cas

Broadway Musical by Griftings, 9k, M, m/m

This is the day that marked the Holy and Blessed Union of Dean Winchester and Jo Harvelle.

The merging of prominent bloodlines is always a grand occurrence, but breeding pedigree hunter families like Winchester and Harvelle is something to be rejoiced. It is also something to be meticulously planned, which thankfully the Host is very good at.

Or, the romantic comedy where Dean Winchester and Jo Harvelle are destined to get married, Castiel is given the task of playing matchmaker and fails terribly, the entire Heavenly Host becomes a sitcom audience, God warns against male pregnancy, and Jimmy Novak is incredibly unimpressed with angels in general.

somewhat of a fandom classic and the humor holds up wonderfully. a very silly fic completed with commentary from angel radio throughout the entire thing.

Sappiest Season by dollsome, 2.7k, G, m/m

In which Dean and Cas have to stop an evil Christmas tree (like you do), and it requires a little fake couple action.

hilarious little s5ish fic. one of the first i read when getting back into spn. i don’t want to spoil anything but this is my favorite pick me up and i still giggle randomly whenever i think about it

The (Mostly Accidental) Courtship of Dean Winchester by tuesday

Angelic marriage rites were never intended to go quite like this.

another fandom classic. ik this one is recced a lot but how could i NOT include it. dean and cas get married (mostly by accident) and they’re huge cunts about it

the one thing in the galaxy god didn't have his eyes on by prufrock, 2.4k, T, gen + m/m

“Wait,” Dean says. “Let me get this right. You can fly, right—you can teleport—but you can’t drive a car?”

or, after the events of S5E03 "Free to Be You and Me," Dean teaches Cas to drive. Cas finds it stressful

im always a sucker for a good ftbyam fic. also i can’t drive so. resonation

So Says The Sword by komodobits, 85k, E, m/m

The briefing was simple: ‘Stand guard over the Michael Sword until the battle is ready to commence. Await further instructions.’

Castiel doesn’t mind working security duty; he was briefed shortly after the initial salvation of the Sword from the pit, and again before taking up his position. He knows what to do. However, it’s easy to forget that the green room isn’t real. Time moves differently there, the space ever-changing to make a prison of mountains, cathedrals, salt flats, orchards, and whatever Castiel was led to believe about Heaven’s greatest weapon—Dean Winchester is something entirely unexpected.

NO introduction neede. i think everyone on spntumblr has read this already but still. if you haven’t then i am demanding that you read it NOW. tbh i’m just adding this one so that i have at least one long fic here 😭

the weight by @myaimistrue, 3.5k, T, gen + m/m

“Do you…” Bobby sighs. “Listen, Dean, do you have something you wanna tell me?”

It’s the conversational equivalent of being punched in the stomach.

Or, Dean works through some things with Bobby's help.

WHEN I SAW THE USERNAME I GASPED I HAD NO IDEA THIS WAS U. anyway i Love coming out fics idk why i just do. the world is ending and dean comes out to bobby

canticles by 2street2car, 10.3k, T, m/m

“But you know something? If I couldn’t get you laid, at least I gave you a good first date.”

feat: footsies at a Ruby Tuesday, stargazing, the recreation of an iconic "Dirty Dancing" scene (no, not that one—the other one), and practicing for When You're With A Girl.

another ftbyam fic that skepticalfrog (i believe?) recommended a while back. made me feel at least 28 new emotions

Epilogue by JayneL, 28k, E, m/m

Bobby is here, swearing somewhere above and behind him; and Dean is here, talking about 2014 like it's a foreign country; and Sam is here, and is not Lucifer. Which means-- Bobby is here, swearing somewhere above and behind him; and Dean is here, talking about 2014 like it's a foreign country; and Sam is here, and is not Lucifer. Which means--

Cas is no longer when he was. Lucifer sent him back.

Coda to 'The End'.

2014 cas gets sent back to 2009, feelings ensue etc. i don’t remember all the details of this one bc it’s been a while but it’s really good

bonus

currently reading

Fragile As We Lie by perilously, 11k, E, f/f

Dragging Bela Talbot out of perdition isn't so much a decision as it is a frantic choice based on gut instinct. Her soul is bright, if fractured, and Anna yearns to do good again after the perversion of free will that immediately preceded her death.

Bela's no ordinary human, though; she's prickly and damaged and beautiful, and Anna doesn't want to leave her side. So maybe they can figure out how to navigate post-resurrection, post-Apocalypse-that-wasn't Earth together.

[jtrbluv]

hell-ish | pjm

summary: can be read as a separate oneshot or a continuation of ‘we’re not really strangers’“

“But do you remember when we went on a field trip to that amusement park in 8th grade? Around halloween time? … Yeah, I think that’s the moment I pretty much fell in love with you.“

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: fluff, humor, establisedrelationship!au

word count: 7.7k+

warnings: profanity (they are beyond terrified), inaccurate depictions of amusement park shenanigans, neurotic clowns (but they’re acting)

A/N: IM SO SRY ITS LITERALLY NOT EVEN HALLOWEEN ANYMORE GOODBYE DD; in my defense they typically have these typa things open after halloween ends... miss rona just isn’t allowing it this year ofc ;w; a special thanks to @viopera​ , @koushiningg​, and @bangtans-peaceful-piegon​ for letting me use their likeness, i love u all. and i hope you enjoy this late halloween fic right before thanksgiving break!

The car rolls to a smooth stop. The man in the driver’s seat puts the car into park—turning towards you while placing a reassuring hand on your thigh.

“Hey,” he says, a small close-lipped grin painting across his features, “you excited?”

You reposition in your seat so you can face him, or more specifically, your best-friend-turned-lover—the sight of him smiling causes you to elicit one of your own, your nerves slightly subsiding.

“I am actually,” you admit, “how long has it been? Six? Seven years?”

“Around there I think, but we should probably get going. The lines are probably going to be stupid long like always,” he suggests, his hand leaving your thigh only to ruffle the hair on top of your head, "Here's to new memories Y/N."

You step out onto the pavement—the crisp, cold night air nipping at your cheeks and nose. The cooler temperature serving as a reminder that winter was yet to come and autumn was about to come to a close. You form an O-shape with your mouth, exhaling sharply and seeing your own breath swirling and blending into the air around you.

Footsteps approach you from the side as you shut the car door. Your head whips around to see Jimin walking towards you with a dopey grin plastered on his face. In response, your eyes playfully loll back, a stream of air huffing out of your nose.

You shift your focus back towards in front of you, eyeing the roller coaster that intimidatingly loomed beyond the fence of the park, the drop tower that appeared just as high, and the other neighboring attractions that towered significantly enough to be seen from afar. The whole stretch of the park emitted a red glow, from what you could assume was from the large-scale lighting and technology that was spread out across the expanse.

A soft hand slides its way from your forearm down to your palm, intertwining all in one smooth motion. It was warm and comforting much unlike your frozen, almost entirely numb ones.

“Someone’s a little cold aren’t they,” he teases, using his other hand to attempt to rub more warmth into yours.

“You know my hands are chronically cold,” you pointedly whine, causing small clouds of air to shoot out of his mouth and nose due to his laughter.

He locks the car and you two begin making your way towards the entrance—from what seemed like a mile, in reality, was only a block away. There was practically no gap in between the two of you the entire time, taking advantage of each other’s body heat amidst the numbingly cold weather.

The wait wasn't too shabby, but you knew it was because time always seemed to pass by so much faster when you were with him, most of the pastime consisting of talking about how your past week has been, the fuckton of assignments you two had gotten, and the dangerously high intakes of caffeine you two had consumed as per usual.

The conversation ceased after a while, and it was just the two of you pressed side to side in comfortable silence, hands still intertwined. It was interesting to see such a vast variety of ages all around you—the most common age range were teenagers or people of the same age as the two of you, which wasn’t a surprise. After getting past the ticket booth and security check, you

two finally make it inside.

The first thing you notice is the large, antique carousel that hadn’t changed in the tiniest bit since the last time you were here.

The meticulously decorated entrance—brought to life by the fire torches, heavy-duty fog machines that didn't allow one to see after 10 feet ahead of them, bright lights that were replaced by either no lights at all or a faint red tint, and just the whole ambiance—had greatly juxtaposed the simplicity and familiarity of the carousel that stood in the eye of it all.

The heat of the fire torches allow you to regain some warmth back into your body—you create a small gap in between you and Jimin, in which he pouts and lifts your intertwined hands up to his face, pressing a kiss into the back of your hand.

“So, where do you wanna go first?” He asks, swinging your arm back and forth after passing through the gates.

“I’m fine with whatever,” you enunciate a bit loudly, the usual noises of amusement park shenanigans hindering your hearing.

“You sure about that?”

You click your tongue, “Jimin please, I’m a college student now, not a puny 8th grader anymore,” you argue, watching him turn away as he tries to stifle his laughter, “I swear!”

“Alright! Alright! I’ll believe you,” he eventually caves, frantically waving his hand to dismiss your concerns, “But I won’t believe you until I see it.”

“Oh, so we’re gonna play that game huh,” you retort, brows furrowing as a smirk creeps across your face, “Alright, so what do you think about riding that?” You ask innocently, motioning up towards the drop tower that forced one to crane their neck all the way back just to see the top.

You break your focus as you look back down and turn towards him to gauge his reaction. His jaw dropping down to his knees—eyes widened in complete bafflement and horror.

“Y/N. I am literally going to fucking die if I ride that shit. Oh my god.”

“What do you mean? It’s totally safe! I’ve been on it so many times.” You attempt to console him, knowing it’s futile because of the piercing glare he gives you right after you say that.

“And that’s supposed to make it better how?!"

You soothingly rub the back of his hand in an attempt to ease his nerves, “Of course I won’t push you if you don’t want to, you know.”

He sighs, “Well, now you’re just making me sound like a puny 8th grader.”

“I can assure you that you very much, are not Chim.” And he smirks at that, tightening his grip on your hand, making you wish that you didn't give him that ego boost in the first place because he surely didn’t need any more of that.

You take some time to mull over your options, but instead, go with whatever your gut feeling was initially leaning towards, “Okay, so what if every time you take me to a house, I have to take you on a ride. You get to choose the house and I get to choose the ride.”

He nods in acknowledgment, “I’m listening.”

“Does that sound valid?” You inquire.

He bites on his bottom lip, taking a moment to quickly cogitate between the options you had given him, and at last, he nods, "It sounds like a win-win."

"Or a lose-lose." You chuckle, and he mirrors.

He shakes his head, “I know you like rollercoasters and all that scary shit, but there’s also a ton of stuff that they’ve added since we’ve last been here.” He replies, thinking out loud, while making you feel more content with your decision, “You got a deal ma’am.” He affirms at last—releasing his grip to offer you his hand to seal the deal, in which you confirm resolutely by shaking it.

Just like he said, the amusement park most definitely stepped up their game ever since you both were middle schoolers, navigating the large expanse with a bunch of other measly and equally puny peers.

The deeper you two make your way into the park, the more themed attractions lined the path. At this point, you could barely make out the bottom half of your legs due to the thickness of the fog. Actors were running around left and right—faces decorated with FX makeup that you could barely discern because of the dim lighting—effectively scaring others, clear by the amount of ear-splitting shrieks you've heard in the past ten minutes that was enough to make your eardrums burst.

Jimin takes note of your slight tenseness. He wasn't oblivious and he knew that you were trying to feign nonchalance—but the razor-tight grip on his hand and lack of chatter on your end was saying otherwise. But just like everything you do, he thought it was cute anyway.

He promptly squeezes your hand, making you turn to face him, "Do you want the first pick?"

You hum, "You can have it if you want."

"Are you sure?"

"Yess," you drag out exasperatedly, "how many times do I have to tell you that I'll be perf– !" You abruptly halt as a zombie (that very much isn't real is what you keep reminding yourself) whizzes past you, brushing against your shoulder and making you jump and trip over your own two feet.

The man beside you is quick to react—leaping in front of you with his arms out so you could fall into his grasp. And you do, gripping his arms to better steady yourself and stand up. As you attempt to straighten yourself out, your head sinks into his chest, laughter erupting out of the two of you to the point where his knees almost give out.

You detach yourself from his chest, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes from laughing so goddamn much. Finally regaining your poise, you immediately slip your fingers back in between his. He cards a hand through his locks with his remaining hand while taking deep breaths.

While tugging him away from where you two were standing to avoid another ruckus... granted that you were at a haunted amusement park, you shout into foggy air, "I'm fine, I'll be fine Jimin! Let's go!", hoping that maybe if you spoke it out into the world, you could manifest it into being true.

Well, weren’t you wrong.

-

A rare and near impossible feat is what you were able to accomplish: forcing Jimin to make a decision. Despite him already being a trademark libra, you always believed that one of his most standout and consistent libra-esque traits was the fact that he was so indecisive. To which had resulted in him forcing you to make decisions instead of him most of the time, whether they had been trivial or not.

The moment you realized that this "feat" wasn’t much of a feat, after all, was when you two had finally reached the entrance of the first haunted attraction he had chosen, his impulsive and most likely ulterior-motivated driven decision causing you to retract all preceding moments in which where you were being stubborn and indignant in him making the first pick.

Just your luck, his explanation behind his decision (and your almost near-death experience) is that he says and you quote, “Start off with a bang! We get the worst over with now so it’s all smooth sailing for the rest of the night. Trust me.”

For some context, you had a very  rational fear of clowns. The year of 2016 was already bad enough as it was—a time in which you had gotten out of your first serious relationship, afterward giving yourself the most horrendous haircut in your entire life because you were emotionally strung and the scissors… well they just happened to be within an arm’s reach.

Later on in said year when you had become a junior and assignments had been piling up higher and higher without any shits given whatsoever, your minuscule fear of clowns had been blown out of all proportions—ultimately fueled by the number of clown sightings around your town and one altercation that you still think about until this day. Four years later, you can still vividly recall the time where you were coming home after studying all day at the local library and on the other side of the street, you had spotted a clown—feet planted to the cement sidewalk, body immobile besides their head that would keep its focus on you as you continuously made your way down the street. As you began to quicken up your pace, the clown began to reciprocate your actions from across the way, and you came to the conclusion that you didn’t really wanna die that night so you sprinted the entire rest of the way home.

And here you two were, at the front of the line standing behind the black curtain entrance—next to a rugged wood sign with the words, CLOWNEUROTICS, inscribed with a dripping, rich red liquid which you surmise was fake blood and not Kool-Aid.

“I cannot believe I let you have the first pick and you do this to me” You quip, chewing the chapped skin of your lips, breath shallow and bated.

“Y/N, you’ll be just fine. I’ll be here right beside you, remember?” he assures you once more, giving you another tight squeeze on your hand.

The curtains swish open, the employee in a simple all-black ensemble motioning the two of you to come inside. You close your eyes, taking one deep and steady inhale before stepping in.

You can barely make out your surroundings, let alone Jimin, who was standing right beside you. The worker’s voice hollers over the deafening noises of the tent. “Follow the path, don’t go backwards, or else you'll hold up the line. And you see that green light?” He asks while pointing to the tiny green bulb that was down the hallway in front of you, “Take a right from there.”

Jimin replies, knowing that you’re too fear-stricken to form coherent sentences at the moment, “Alright, thanks.”

The man nods, and Jimin tugs on your hand as he begins to walk forward. You follow closely behind, reminding yourself to take breaths before you flat out lose consciousness.

As you reach the end of the hallway and the green light bulb the man mentioned, Jimin pauses and turns around to stand in front of you, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“Y/N, I know you hate my guts right now, but I’m sorry in advance and just know that I love you, okay? You have full permission to torture me after this.” He reassures with a wide grin.

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too,” you grumble, lips downturned and head hanging low.

You feel his soft lips graze over your cheek, leaving a chaste peck before giving you an airy, irresistible smile that you can’t really help but relent, even though it already feels like your heart is about to implode on itself.

Taking a right, the setting of the attraction comes into periphery. White walls and floors—reminiscent of a hospital, are tainted with blood, a disarray of medical equipment, and severed body parts. You take notice of the vacant hospital beds, sheets crumpled and stained with red. Framed pictures of medical staff were hanging by loose nails, glass shattered, bloody splatters and smears all over the frames, walls, and white tile.

You two reach a doorway, next to one of the hinges was a sign that clearly said, Psychiatric Ward. Well, I guess that explains the neurotics part.

In an attempt to swallow down some of the fear in your throat, you tighten your grip on Jimin’s hand while opting to slither your remaining hand around his bicep.

He takes notice of your actions that were propelled by your increasing fear, and naturally, he can’t help but feel bad, “Hey, you know I’d never let anything happen to you.” He tells you, shaking you out of your slight daze, “You can hold onto me the whole time and stick your head in my shoulder just like you did years ago, I won’t mind,” he teases while booping your nose.

“Alright, let’s just get this over with, please.” You huff out, determined to somehow put on maybe not a brave, but a braver face than what he expects from you.

You manage to fail in a whopping, record-breaking, ten seconds of going inside.

The first jumpscare was so entirely predictable—the thunderous pounds against the wall, the trudging and supposedly neurotic clowns (although clowns are already neurotic enough as they are) had all built up suspense until a head of a clown had shot up from around the corner. Their usual clown features distorted with gashes in their skin and blood dribbling out of the corners of their mouth, clothes ripped and stained. Your entire body violently spasms, a shrill shriek, and an embarrassingly long string of curses leave your lips in a matter of mere seconds.

You don’t even notice the man you’re holding onto folding over in laughter because the clown is still very much still following you even after you turn the corner, but before you can recalibrate and trek forward another clown materializes just sparse inches at your side. Your entire body forcefully jerks back, knocking into Jimin, but the force doesn’t phase him in the slightest as he swiftly brings his arms around your frame to prevent you from falling back.

Next to you, the man’s laughter hasn’t ceased a bit the entire time, and as you quickly dash forward and away from the clowns that you oh-so-wanted to knock a tooth out of, while clinging onto his side, he presses a kiss to the top of your head, “Hanging in there?”

“I think I’m gonna murder you before I murder any of these clowns.”

“Noted!” he chimes while playfully bumping his head into yours.

As you two turn another corner, the sight of more clowns banging against vacant windows on either side of you has you wincing, and you could swear you could feel your left eye start to involuntarily twitch. You come to the indubitable realization that amidst dozens of clowns, you are evidently the biggest one here.

The sounds that blaringly elicit from your lips are the nearing equivalent to keyboard smashes with a variety of curse words in between. In short, if you had a swear jar, you’d be practically penniless at this point.

The clowns are quick to take note of your cowardly conduct, using it to their advantage and targeting you specifically—reaching and intruding so eerily close that you’re almost convinced that they’re actually touching you. You cower in their presence, squirming and sinking deeper and deeper into Jimin’s hold as you make your way down the path.

Beads of cold sweat began to assert their own path down your forehead—heart ricocheting against the walls of your chest, straining the cords of your throat because of your never-ending shouts and shrieks of terror upon terror. Your whole body was convulsing and shivering without fault, even when accompanied by the body heat of the man next to you, the harsh lighting of the overhead lights, and the lack of ventilation in this shoddy tent proved to be no match against your bodily functions that were going completely haywire. If you were an Amazon package, you would have a large ‘Caution: Handle With Care’ sign slapped right onto the box.

The pea-sized amount of pride that remains within you is the only thing stopping you from completely losing your shit.

Jimin's laughter—airy and unwavering, tickling the shell of your ear was the only thing keeping you grounded, serving as a constant reminder that at the very least when you might have lost all your pride and composure, you still had him by your side.

Without much forethought, he continues to lay kisses along your temple, clutching you close to his chest and keeping you upright as your knees constantly buckled under the weight of your looming fear, crumbling composure, and the grisly clowns that were most definitely preying on your downfall.

The ten-minute duration—which to you, had felt like a whole lifetime-and-a-half had finally come to a close. Once you were able to discern what you thought was the exit of the tent—the small opening leading to what had looked like signs of civilization, you booked it without hesitation, hastily tugging Jimin with you to the point where he nearly tramples over his own feet and crashes to the floor due to the sheer and sudden force.

You two finally pass through the exit. Feeling as if you had just ran a timed mile in five minutes, your body caves immediately—hunching over, briskly bringing your hands to your knees to support your deteriorating physiological state. The sound of your heavy breathing gets disrupted by Jimin’s laughter. You stand up, straightening yourself out when you realize that other people were starting to make their way towards the exit too, and you two were clearly blocking the way out.

Jimin takes you by the wrist and swiftly pulls you aside as more people start to trickle out of the tent. You two lean against the metal fence, comfortably silent as he lets you catch your breath.

You huff out, taking deep exhales as you speak, "Holy fuck, what even was that?"

"The funniest thing I have ever seen," he shoots back with a smile, slightly breathless as well.

You blink rapidly, body slumping against the fence, still completely cynical and disbelieving in what you had experienced. Biting the inside of your cheek so hard you're pretty sure you left teeth marks, you wipe your sweat with the hem of your sleeve.

"You okay?" he asks softly, closing the gap in between the two of you.

You nod, affirming your composure in hopes that it would solidify it for real. Giving him a smile to ease the nerves you knew he had, you visibly saw his smile widen, and with that, you ruffle his hair, take his hand into your own, and walk a few steps forward before announcing brazenly into the chilly autumn wind,

"Drop zone time."

"Y/N PLEASE—!"

-

"Don't do this, anything else but this please." He pleads, lips jutting out while childishly tugging on your sleeve.

You groan, "Bub, we had a deal."

He presses his lip together, "I know... but just look at that! How does that even look remotely safe enough for one to ride?" He tries to reason with you, staring up at the attraction that he believes should not even be labeled as an 'attraction' in the first place.

You chuckle softly, shaking your head, "If it was that much of a safety hazard, it wouldn't even exist Chim."

"I will never understand why people ride this out of enjoyment and pleasure. This is insane," he says, his eyes trailing to the long line of people behind the two of you.

"It's three seconds, I swear. Three seconds compared to my ten minutes of cussing and wanting to punch a clown in the face is very reasonable in my opinion. You’ll be just fine, I’ll hold your hand the whole time," you add on.

He quietly freezes in place—eyes fixated on the tower, hands leaving the fabric of your sweater. You feel his warm hand come in contact with yours, the back of his hand grazing your knuckles. Lacing your fingers in between his, he meets your eyes, giving you a timid, lopsided grin. A silent affirmation that had said more than words could’ve. I trust you but I’m still scared shitless.

“You guys are next,” the worker announces, opening the gate and gesturing you two to come inside. Jimin’s smile dissipates, face contorting into a look of mortification at the man’s words—eyes widening to the size of what would be considered as utter shock and lips curling into a form of disgust.

Tugging lightly at his hand, he whips his head towards you, waiting to speak until you two have passed the gate, “Y/N, I’m literally gonna piss my pants like I’m not even joking.”

“Jimin!” you say in a hushed yell, “Please don’t, I know your pride is too precious to you for you to annihilate it by pissing on a ride that even kids go on.”

He scoffs, “Okay fine… but we’re getting churros after this.”

Your brows furrow in confusion, smiling at his tone, “Why would I argue against churros?”

“Hello, miss? Come this way, please,” another worker greets, leading the two of you to two vacant spots of the ride where you presume were going to be yours.

You nod, making your way towards the two seats, hearing Jimin splutter incoherent words and sounds from behind your shoulder.

He immediately plops into the innermost spot, refusing to be on the outermost seat that only had one accompanying seat on one side, albeit it truly didn’t matter. And of course, you don’t tell him that.

Smiling at his overt signs of apprehension, you slide into the spot next to him, beginning to put on the seatbelt over your lap.

Drumming his fingers on his knees, he already has his seatbelt buckled and his over-the-shoulder restraints locked and secured into place.

“Ugh, can these things go any tighter! I can still move under here,” he tuts, vigorously trying to push the restraints closer to his body, yet his attempts are proven to be in vain.

“Bub, they still want you to be able to breathe,” you remind him with a small giggle, your head popping out of the U-shaped bar to look over at him—his brows knit in concentration, nose scrunched, lips tucked into his mouth.

In a final attempt, you hear the man beside you take a sharp and deep inhale, only to hear a tiny click emit from the restraint shortly afterward.

He releases his bated breath, only to come to the realization that he can’t extend his stomach all the way forward, the bar forcing it to come short. He splutters, bringing his hand to cover his face while he coughs only to realize that his arm can’t fully reach around the bar to meet his face.

You watch this entire scene unfold out in front of you—wishing you could do something to help the poor guy, but you already knew your attempts would be pointless in the end as your arms are physically incapable of extending that far. You sink back into your seat to make sure he doesn’t see the fact that you were trying so hard not to laugh.

“Jimin, deep breaths, in and out,” you instruct him as the worker starts to make their rounds around the ride, double-checking for seatbelts and secured restraints.

“Y/N, that’s the problem, I can’t.”

“Try scooting back into your seat,” the worker suggests to Jimin, giving him an empathetic smile.

“What do you mean–oh, erm, thank you.”

She nods, shaking Jimin’s restraint a little more energetically to reassure the man of his safety.

As she leaves, he says to you, “Y/N, I can’t believe you convinced me to go on this.”

“Me too, honestly. I’m really proud of you Chim.” You admit, reaching out a hand towards him in which he takes.

“Three seconds, right?” He reiterates.

“Give or take, yeah.”

“Y/N—!”

Your seats suddenly clatter, signaling the start of your long ascent. Jimin’s grip on your hand tightens substantially, causing you to groan out in pain.

He quickly takes note of the noise, loosening his grip ever so slightly, “Oh my god, sor- oh fucking hell, there’s no going back now?!”

You chomp down on your bottom lip before another sound could escape your mouth—his grip on your hand tightening the higher you two go, “No, no you’re fine, it’s okay..”

“HOLY SHIT WHY ARE WE ALREADY THIS HIGH UP?!” He yelps, kicking his feet against the air—people’s heads starting to look as small as ants, the rest of the park coming into view as if you were experiencing it from a drone’s point of view.

“Dumbass, don’t look down!”

“It’s too late–what the hell, why can I see the whole damn city from here?!” He sticks his head out of his restraint, looking up and trying to find the top, “wHen the FUCK does this shit stop please, Y/N, I cAn’T do this?!?!”

“Chim. Breathe. Deep, steady breaths, okay?” You say while audibly taking breaths so he can do the same.

“Okay, okay,” he says, voice cracking but following suit.

After you think that he finally manages to get a grip on himself, you decide to try to take his mind off the situation at hand, “Jimin, look at the view.”

His breath softens as he begins to take in his surroundings. He could see everything. To him, it feels as if he had the city in the palm of his hand. The rollercoasters that reside next to the tower were practically reaching eye-level to him, and despite the lack of color due to the theme of the park, he thought it was mesmerizing anyway. He marvels at the fact that he could even see past the park—catching a glimpse of the cars zooming on the main highway, minute specks of light emitting from the windows of skyscrapers, people living in their own little worlds in each one, And of course, the envy of it all, the night sky—the dark depth littered with a multitude of stars in their own little patterns and worlds of their own as well.

The overhead speakers trumpet, ripping Jimin out of his trance-like state, “Welcome to the drop zone brave newcomers. I hope you’ve had an enjoyable trip on the way up here. And I hope that your descent is just as enjoyable as well. We will be dropping in... “

Jimin heaves out, “Now that’s just plain rude at this point.”

“Ten.”

“Are you okay?”

He scoffs. “What kind of question is that Y/N?!”

“Nine.”

“Jimin, you’ll be just fine,” You reassure for the umpteenth time.

“I swear if this is longer than three seconds–”

“Eight.”

He frantically kicks the air. “Fucking hell! I can’t believe I’m doing this right now, I miss the ground.”

“Seven.”

“We’ll be back down to earth sooner than you think, I’m telling you.”

“Six.”

“Oh my fucking god, oh my fuck–!”

“Five.”

“Oh fuck, holy shit–!”

“Jimin, I’ll be right beside you–”

“Four.”

“–the whole way.”

“OH MY FUCKING GOD?!”

“Thre–!”

Before the countdown can finish, you two plummet, plunging down at great speeds—a feral-sounding squawk leaving Jimin’s lips when it all happens.

He squeezes his eyes shut, refusing to see what was going on—letting go of your hand, he opts to hold onto the other handlebar on the restraint instead. His breath is caught in his throat, the ride is moving so fast that he can’t even produce any noise, let alone move his body.

Just like you have been saying this whole night, the ride ends in a blink of an eye. Or more specifically, three seconds, give or take.

Jimin slumps in his seat—fingers still curled so tightly around the handlebars that his knuckles turn pale.

You stick your head out of your restraint, craning your neck to look at him beside you, “Jimin, it’s done, it’s over.”

“Are you sure?” He mumbles.

“Open your eyes.”

His head slowly rises, eyes remaining shut. Cracking one eye slightly open, he loosens his grip on the handlebars before opening his eyes and letting out a deep sigh of relief.

"That wasn't so bad, right?" You beam, waiting for the restraints to be lifted.

"I wouldn't know, I had my eyes closed the whole time," he shyly admits, lifting the restraint off of him and unbuckling his seatbelt.

You two jump out of your seats, heading towards the gate and bidding the drop tower goodbye, juxtaposing afterthoughts lingering in the air.

"That felt so weird, I don't know if I wasn't able to move or if there wasn't enough time for me to react," he chuckles dryly while twining his hand with yours once again.

You smile, "Probably a little bit of both," you suggest, eyes scanning the park for any signs of a churro stand, "but hey, you survived!"

He smiles at that, teeth out and all, "We both did," he assures earnestly, "and now as an incentive, we are getting churros."

Your eyes light up—the sight of the bright neon sign being the next destination of the night. Jimin notices your sudden reaction, quickly looking in the same direction as you and pinpointing the small churro stand from afar.

To your luck, the line isn't very long—people are most likely preoccupied with the multitude of attractions that are only going to be available for this appropriate time of the year, taking advantage of the opportunity before having to wait for an entire year before getting to experience it all over again. But you and Jimin weren't like most people, and you two strongly believed that churros should be indulged in at any time during any situation. And right now, it was being utilized as a form of consolation, just in the shape of a deep-fried pastry sprinkled with cinnamon sugar.

After obtaining your consolation desserts, you two resume your journey around the park. Too preoccupied indulging in your churro, you’re temporarily able to block out the commotion that was occurring around you, keeping four out of five senses focused on said churro and churro only. 

“You feel better?” You ask, taking a brief moment to dust off all the cinnamon and sugar off the corners of your mouth. 

“Mmhmph,” he incoherently mumbles, after shoving half a churro into his mouth. He abruptly pauses, cheeks puffed up and eyes wide, realizing he can’t talk and instead he nods with a grin as wide as his mouth would allow him to stretch out. 

You giggle at his actions, taking your focus off of him to take another bite. 

A few moments later, when most of your churros noticeably nowhere to be seen, you ask, “Where should we go next?”

He cinches his brows together, “We probably shouldn’t go on anything to extreme, considering we just ate. How about the ferris wheel?” He suggests, pointing to the attraction that was standing in front of the two of you. 

You nod, “You’re right, these workers already go through enough. And we shouldn’t add cleaning vomit to the list.”

He chuckles, “Agreed. Let’s go, the line is pretty short!” He exclaims jubilantly, flashing you a mega-watt grin while pulling you along with him towards the gated entrance. 

Leaning against the gate, you two wait for the round of riders that were currently riding to finish, mindlessly scrolling on your phones to pass the time. 

The gate entrance opens, tearing your focus off of your phone and back to reality. The enormous and dazzling neon wheel that stood boldly enveloped your vision in replacement of your dim and dark-mode setted phone screen, making you blink a few times to adjust to its harsh hues. 

One of the carts comes to a halt, doors releasing as the group of friends inside it begin to grab their belongings and head out. The worker in charge motions you to step inside after they leave, the two of you following suit. When you two become situated and seated, they press a few buttons on their control panel, the doors promptly swinging close. A few brief seconds after, the cart jolts before moving just enough so the other people behind you could board onto the next cart.

The carts reminded you of the teacup ride at Disneyland—built in a circular shape, seats lined around the border with a small gap made for the entrance door, but of course, it was void of steering wheels in the middle. Now that would just be a recipe for disaster, and a solid segue into Jimin vomiting all over you.

He nudges your leg, “It’s so funny to me.”

You turn to him, “What is?”

“Out of all things to do while being here, and we’re riding the ferris wheel,” he beams, a light chuckle leaving his lips, “I don’t know whether to pity us or not.”

“All my pride has left me already and I’m okay with it,” you tut, lips unwillingly curling upward as you replayed the scenes of what had happened earlier at the drop zone, “I wouldn’t talk too much if I were you Mr. ‘I’m gonna piss my pants.” You tease, poking him in the side.

He scoffs, squirming slightly where you poked him, “I am still proud of myself, I didn’t think I was gonna make it up there.”

You turn away, holding in your laughter, “I didn’t think you were either.”

“Hey! Don’t even get me started on you,” he says, nose scrunching and brows furrowing, “those poor clowns were about to get their noses punched in if it wasn’t for me being there. I think your screams and threats were starting to scare them more than they were scaring me.” He fires back, giggles erupting in his throat and interrupting his words.

“I’m not even gonna argue against that. We are so sad,” you say—laughter flaring up in your chest as well, the two of you keeling over so hard the cart begins to swing back and forth.

“Woah! Woah! Woah! Easy there,” Jimin yelps as you two take notice of the movement and immediately cease your actions, hands grabbing the ends of the cart to try to stabilize it. 

Just as your cart has moved up enough for you to start seeing an overhead view of the park, he whips his phone out before saying, “Lemme take a picture of you, the view is so nice here.”

As he whips out his phone, you scoot to the other end of the cart as he brings his phone up to his face and focuses it on you. Naturally, you bring your hand up, hand changing to a trademark peace sign as you flashed a smile for the camera. He brings his phone down many lock screen worthy pictures later, happy with the result evident from the grin etched onto his face. 

“Your turn,” you say, motioning you two switch spots as you take your phone out of your pocket. 

Jimin, infuriatingly photogenic, simply sits while staring off into the distance, jaw on full display as you begin to rapidly snap pictures. Hearing your camera clicks he changes his position—turning towards you as the chilly wind blows through his hair, eyes crinkling and dazzling smile on full display that you can’t help but smile at the familiar yet all too breathtaking sight. 

Placing your phone in your lap, you scoot closer to him—leaning your back against his shoulder, you prop your legs up onto the seats. Turning towards you, he snakes his arms around your waist as his chest comes in contact with your back. You let yourself sink deeper into his grasp, conforming into his body as warmth spreads to your fingertips. Your head lulls back, falling into the space right below his collarbones as you stroke the back of his hands gingerly with the pad of your thumbs. He rests his chin on top of your head, the two of you simply admiring the view below. 

The ride still hasn’t started—people still boarding the ride as the carts momentarily halt and move from time to time. 

Not long after, your cart reaches the very top. 

Head peering over the edge, he turns back, “See, why did we have to go on the drop tower when we could’ve went here instead,” he grumbles, the peak of the tower standing nearly just as tall as the highest point of the ferris wheel to the point where you could stare directly ahead of you without tilting your head.

“Well that takes all the fun out of it,” you tease, making him frown, “Hey! You keep forgetting what you made me go through before that. Don’t think I’ve gotten over it that quickly.”

Looking displeased at your answer, he quirks a brow, “You seemed to be fine when we were riding the tower.”

“What can I say, you make a very good distraction.”

“I think I could say the same for you,” he proposes, “I swear I saw some of those clowns turn away and start laughing every time you threatened them. I was like ‘Yes! That’s my feisty girlfriend!” he cheers, pumping his fists into the air. You cower down in embarrassment, grinning to yourself while trying to swat his arm away. 

“I feel so burned out already though,” you say, head falling back into his chest, “I think it’s ‘cause we’re here at night.” 

“And because you track-starred your way through that entire maze,” he adds.

“That too.”

“I feel it too, we did more walking than anything else to be honest.” He says, which is very much true. The drop tower was all the way on the other side of the park and the churro stand took you guys a whole twenty minutes just to find. 

You hum, “Should we head out after this then?”

He rests his cheek on top of your head, “Yeah, if you want to.”

“I feel bad though, it feels like we just got here,” you admit, chuckling into his arm. 

He shakes his head, hands reaching over to play with the ends of your hair, “Don’t feel bad, I think we’re still hungover because of midterms. And besides, I’m hungry and I don’t wanna eat a ten dollar hotdog after just eating a stale ten dollar churro.”

“Yeah, we can just eat one dollar ramen, we’re still college students above everything.”

And you truly couldn’t argue with that. “Of course.”

Taking your hands off of his, you prop a hand onto the cart to sit yourself up onto the seats. He releases his hold on you, his arms returning back to his sides as the warmth of your body dissipates to his dismay. 

You adjust your sitting position so you could face him—reaching out to take one of his hands into your own. Your eyes bore into his, gazing into the pools of honey that were his irises. The view is slightly obscured as his eyes crinkle.

He smiles, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You don’t even register that he’s speaking to you until he leans in slightly, his features starting to appear bigger as he starts to close the gap between you two. You shake your head once he gets so close in proximity that you could see each crinkle that etches themself on the sides of his eyes each time he grins. 

Your eyes flicker to his lips, taking notice of the action as you quickly revert back to his eyes. He smirks

“Thank you for taking me here,” you say as your eyes intently gaze into his once more, “above all the trepidation we’ve put each other through tonight, at least we’re here together.”

He nods, gratitude evident without him having to utter a single word. It’s as if time is frozen, everything around you stagnant and still, eyes boring into each other because nothing could just quite compare to this. Not even the surreal view of the city or the ability to see all the bustle within the amusement park or even the stars that littered the sky. 

You press your lips against his. Although you initiated the action, the sensation of his lips against yours, regardless of how natural, sends a flurry of shockwaves down your spine. Your body tingles—as if you’re floating and the cart you were sitting on wasn’t even there to support you. 

And he kisses you back. His lips are warm, welcoming, and comforting—like wrapping yourself in your favorite blanket in the comforts of your bed, the indescribable bliss as the fabric consumes your body and runs over your skin. 

Kissing him felt even more blissful than that.

The kiss isn’t fervent, but it’s full of longing. It’s as if he’s communicating to you, through the way his lips mesh against yours, that he plans on making up for all the lost time. Time that could’ve been spent doing things like kissing you, loving you wholeheartedly and unashamedly, was spent pining for each other with the label of being ‘best friends’ standing in the way for far too long. He wants to make up for it just as much as you do. 

He slides his hand under the crevice of your knee, pulling you closer to him as he continues to kiss you. You bring your hand up to his neck, entangling your fingers into his hair as you lightly scratched at the surface of his scalp. 

He kisses you like he’ll never get to again, which isn’t completely false—the fact that you two were so high up in the air to the point where the stars look tangible, basking in each other’s presence and each other’s presence only. 

Frustrated at the abnormal layout of the seating, he hooks his arms under your legs—hoisting you up and placing you in his lap so you were straddling him—incognizant of how the cart was starting to dip due to the unequal distribution of weight. 

The gesture makes you squeak, and you can start to feel him smile against your lips. Before you could do anything else, the cart totters—rocking a few times before moving, signaling that the ferris wheel is finally beginning its journey. 

“Oh fuck—!”

“Oh shit—!”

The two of you immediately detach from each other as you take notice of the unbalance, hurriedly leaping onto opposite sides of the cart while gripping onto the sides for dear life, the cart rocking back and forth at a concerning extent. You sneak glances at each other, your faces painted with the same expression of shock and distress.  

Seconds pass and the cart steadies—laughter instantaneously taking over the two of you.

“I think that’s our cue to leave,” he says, a little breathless while his body hunched over his seat.

“Remind me the next time we kiss to check if we’re less than a foot above the ground first,” you tease, playfully swatting his knee.

He grabs your hand, pressing a kiss onto your knuckles before shaking your intertwined hands up in the air—obnoxiously shouting into the frigid autumn wind, “Yes chief!” 

-

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MASTERLIST

[powered-universe-official]

what if. hear me out. pjo au

oooo okay im going to write an actual oneshot later when i have more time, but here are my basic ideas for now

Electrode/Cato - Unclaimed (nobody...wants to admit they helped create this chaos creature)

Virtue - Athena (Biggest Brain)

Leto - Zephyr (kinda... obvious)

Bug - Aphrodite (accidental charmspeak but like Weird)

Airael - Bia, manifestation of force and raw energy

Gemini - Ares (turn into Big Wolf sometimes also v angry)

I know all of them are greek but i dont wanna deal with the Roman Versions yknow? anyways all of them are at camp. bug, virtue, gemini, and cato are all very close but when they go on a quest and everyone but virtue and cato die, the pair disappear off the face of the earth. when leto comes to camp, she hears the story about these two and it's told as a tragedy and everyone thinks virtue and cato are dead. (idk if the actual pjo cast exist yet still figuring that out)

[sondepoch]

Do You Regret It? (Lucifer x Reader)

Lucifer’s pact mark is a reflection of his pride: subtle, yet demanding all the attention. Small, yet impossible to miss. Delicate, yet overpowering everything else. One day, he catches you staring at it. And he asks you a question.

~Oneshot 

MASTERLIST

"Do you regret it?"

You spin around to the source of the voice, flashing the intruder a disapproving stare once your eyes settle over the familiar figure.

"You need to start knocking," You mutter, crossing your arms. It's not the first time you've made the request; Lucifer has heard it from your lips a thousand times before. But never have you meant it so wholeheartedly. After all, it's at times like these when you need Lucifer to knock the most, times when you're vulnerable and concerned and completely lost to the world around you.

Lucifer simply laughs, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest as he walks forward.

He's quick to trap you in an embrace, one that's slightly reluctant on your end. And yet, you can't help but relax when he gently presses your back to his chest, turning you around so that you're facing the mirror once more. His fingers trail from your cheek to your jaw, angling your chin upward just the slightest so that he has better access to your face, and though you can tell he's staring straight at your face through the mirror, you know it's not your eyes he's looking at.

"Do you regret it?" He repeats, and this time, his voice is even softer. His gaze shifts just the slightest, and now you know he really is looking you straight in the eye.

You stare at him for a second, trying to figure out what's going through his mind. What does he want you to say? That you like having your face branded with his mark, that you enjoy the stares it's already earned you from the other demons?

Your gaze drops, and you stare at your reflection. Trying your hardest to ignore the delicate diamond positioned on your forehead.

Silence.

And then the sound of your reluctant sigh.

"I don't know," You finally confess, sheepishly raising your gaze to Lucifer. "It's just…"

"Strange?" He asks, chuckling.

You nod. "It's like I can feel it on me. Even when I'm not looking at it. And the moment I forget, others stare at it, and I remember all over again…"

Lucifer sighs softly, pulling you away from the mirror and onto your bed. The structure itself is quite giant, but Lucifer insists on keeping you close as he effortlessly lifts your body onto it, settling you down on his lap.

It's the first time he's held you close in any place other than his own study or bedroom, but you don't mention it as he presses your back against his chest, gently stroking your hair. It's oddly intimate, you think. More intimate and more loving than anything you've ever done with the Avatar of Pride.

"Do you know why demonic pacts manifest in the form of markings on the human body?" He asks abruptly.

"To show that we belong to you?" It's your best guess. "So that we don't forget?"

"Close," Lucifer murmurs. "But not quite. Just as you give us a piece of your freedom when you bind yourself to us, the exchange is completed only once we've bound part of our essence to you."

Lucifer's hand trails from your hair to your stomach, his palm flattening against the surface of your abdomen. He's seen you naked enough times to know exactly how large the pact mark there is, and a shudder runs down your spine the second his fingers make contact with the skin there, a rush of magic swelling through your body.

"Beel," He whispers into your ear. "He passed a piece of his gluttony to you when the pact formed. Your hunger is no longer yours, but mixed with his own."

"Levi." He taps at the spot above your heart. "You see the world through his lens, now. You may not realize it, but his envy has seeped into your life, and you will never be free from it."

"Mammon," Lucifer murmurs, his hand sliding to behind your back. "His greed is easy to forget, but it always lurks in the depths of your heart. At the back, where you may never notice it, but always present and eternally fueling your desire for more."

"Asmo." Lucifer slips a hand under your shirt and taps your side, running his fingers along the pact mark that wraps around the thinnest part of your waist. He doesn't need to explain this one, doesn't need to explain how the fifth-born has bound you with a belt that forever holds you close to his lust. "Belphie," He gestures, glancing toward the pact mark that snakes up your left leg, just as sloth itself has you caught in a silent pull that always compels you to its side for just five more minutes of whatever indolence you allow yourself to indulge in. "Satan," He finishes, tapping the back of your neck, just underneath your brain, where your blood pounds loudest on the rare occasion when you give in to the temptation wrath.

"You have each of us inside you, and you can never free yourself of our sins."

Lucifer offers you a soft smile, withdrawing his hands from your body in favor of cupping your cheek.

"And now…" He murmurs, gazing up.

You watch as his gaze traces the pact mark on your forehead, studying it intently as if he could stare at it for centuries.

Pride, you see in his gaze. There's no denying it—no denying the proud look in his eyes as he stares upon your face, now marked with the very same symbol of his own, true form.

Lucifer licks his lips.

His pact mark is by far the smallest when compared to the rest of his brothers, and yet it stands out the most. Much like the Morningstar itself, his pride binds you quietly, impossibly small but louder than all else. He doesn't need a giant pact mark like Beel, or one that wraps around your entire waist like Asmo, to assert his charge over you.

All it takes is a small diamond.

Something runs down your body as you watch him continue to study you, and for the first time, you register it as pride that possesses you, pulsating quietly but distinctly from the small etching on your forehead.

"You're perfect," Lucifer whispers, and now he's not staring at the mark but is staring at your eyes, and you know that you've never looked as enticing to him before as you must look now, your own face a testimony to the fact that you belong to each other. "All of you."

And with this sudden confidence possessing you, there's no hesitation as you close the gap between your lips in a single, fluid movement, locking your lips against Lucifer's with such certainty that there's no room for doubt before the two of you are moving against each other, shifting and gasping and moaning.

You close your eyes and lose yourself in the sensation as Lucifer takes control, pushing you down on the bed.

How many times have you been through this before? A quiet cry spills from your lips when the demon nips at your neck, and your arms fly around his chest to pull him even closer.

You open your eyes when you feel a shift above you, a sudden wave of power washing through your bodies, and you blink when the sight before you registers.

Horns.

You gasp lightly.

And wings.

Your eyes trail to Lucifer's face, trained on the black mark that looks oh-so-natural against the demon's porcelain skin as he hovers above you in his true form.

"This is what it means to be mine," He says, his words ringing richly through your ears. Your mouth hangs open just the slightest, staring in awe as Lucifer's hard gaze washes over you. His eyes have never looked as serious as they look now, staring at you so intently that you can't even break his gaze to look up at the beautiful mark that now seems to complete his face. "Do you regret taking my pride, taking my burden?"

My pride.

You stare deep into Lucifer's eyes, past the brilliant crimson, and into the abyss of emotion that lies underneath.

My burden.

Your eyes raise to the mark on his forehead, a mark so distinctive that it brands him even now—an emblem that tells Lucifer's entire tale, from his grace to his fall, in a single marking.

And you understand.

Lucifer's pact is one that you cannot bear unless you have the pride to go with it. It is a natural fuel for the confidence that already exists within your heart, not just a piece of Lucifer's pride but a design meant to propel your own to match his, binding you two together by something more intimate than even the closeness you already share.

"Do you regret it?!"

Lucifer's grip on your wrists tighten, and you see the beginnings of anger begin to swirl in those beautiful eyes of his as you keep him waiting. His tone, meant to come across as demanding and formidable, sounds nothing but painfully genuine as his question falls upon your ears, and you feel blissfully calm as you gaze up at him.

"No," You whisper, silently removing your wrists from Lucifer's hold. You raise your hands to cup his cheeks, not missing the way his eyes widen as you do so.

Before, you would never have dared to try something so bold with the firstborn demon, always leaving it up to him to take control of the situation and tell you with his actions what would and wouldn't be permitted. But now, the pride Lucifer has kindled in your heart burns a brilliant blaze, one that acts as a fiery shield that protects you from anything or anyone that might try to hurt you.

You move one of your hands from Lucifer's cheek to the back of his head, threading your fingers through the raven locks and gently pushing his head down until your foreheads are touching.

You close your eyes.

The sensation of power and pride washes over you, the diamond on your forehead seeming to pulsate in response to the one on Lucifer's own. You feel nothing but peace as you bask in the sensation.

"I don't."

MASTERLIST

Word count: 1.7k

Notes: i keep telling myself that im not a lucifer stan, but ive written over 60k words of JUST him so maybe im lying to myself idk anymore man

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I do not own the rights to Obey Me! or any of the characters within it.