#i will literally never get sick of writing honey. demon child.

[malfromtheblue]

of course hon!! i see you've started reblogging things; that's awesome! 💕

fantastic genres!! anything in particular that you've read or been reading lately that you've enjoyed?

that is so sick, tbqh! rock music is such a classic, it's hard to find someone who doesn't like it. have you ever listened to sleeping at last? it's more soft and slow, and some of the songs don't have vocals. i wish i could hear you play your guitar, i bet it's awesome.

those girls are bonkers, hon. people and their biases are so 🙄 anyone can write smut! imagine if only certain people could write specific genres. that would be remarkably boring. i bet your writing is awesome; it's fun to dabble in different styles! i need to get back to writing poetry and short stories myself. i've burnt out on working on my original works.

poetry is especially important to have that raw emotion in it. if we aren't pouring our hearts out in each stanza, then it's not going to leave a lasting impact.

even the most basic of tea preferences are important! tea can really soothe a person, even if it's just one cup. i don't think i've ever put honey in my tea, though. maybe just once? usually, i'm a sucker for some cane sugar when i want a sweeter cup.

a tea date sounds so cute!! especially as we move towards cooler weather. i hope you have the opportunity to do so in the near future 🥰

- 🐰

lemme just say it makes me SO happy to have someone who relates to me! ive always been into The Maze Runner. Newt was my mate, rooted for him till he died. Then i rooted for Minho and was thrilled when Teresa died (she was annoyin, okay?). that's a series that ill never get sick of! i just started readin the Percy Jackson series. its okay, i dont quite see all the fuss about it? maybe it gets better further in. there was one book that i haven't read in the longest. called, Gregor and the Prophecy of Bane. it was from a series. that was the only book i had and i read it over and over. also, The spiderwick chronicles is an amazing series too! its also a movie

Rock music is good, i agree. i dont think ive heard of Sleeping At Last, but ill check em out for you, darlin!

poetry is quite literally my way of life? people tend to get freaked out when they see me?? i either get compliments or complaints. in the UK people kinda shyed away from me cuz i wear eyeliner and am more what would be called 'punk'. but people here are pretty cut throat. some old man said that i was the child of Satan since i dressed like a demon? but a girl that same day said i had a "sexy slut waist"? and an old french lady called me "Yeux de sirène" or what she said was Mermaid Eyes. she said i could hypnotize anyone because my eyes are a really light blue. what i was getting at with this is, no one expects me to be as down to earth as i am? possibly because of my looks?

now, mind you im not necessarily a nature person but if im spendin time outside its because im readin, writin, or takin care of my plants! and or of course, drinkin tea like a good UKnian.

m really excited to be able to go on a tea date as well! i think its a cute idea and it would be perfect for a first date. even if im obsessing about her, i want my Doll to feel as though it isn't going too fast. even if my mind is sputtering wildly, i want to try and go slow... dont wanna freak her out? m sure ya understand, Bunny anon?

~Mal 💕

[reachfolk]

❥ prompt: snow (for 25DaysofTESCheer!)

✿ tags: just mindless fluff, also honey being.... honey, not beta or proof read bc im lazy <3

❥ word count: 1.1k

✿ synopsis: in which lucien volunteers to help honey learn her first spell, and it ends badly

❥ author's notes: this is late bc i didn't like what i had originally and rewrote it from scratch <3 enjoy honey and lucien being exactly what you'd expect them to be like.

✿ taglist: @korvanjund (let me know if anyone else wants to be added!)

Honey's hands carried a dim, blue light as the frostbite spell finally came to light.

"Good job!" Lucien cheered her on.

She frowned. "No it's not. I've been trying at this for hours and this is all I've got." The few fractals of ice floating in her grasp fizzled in place, barely kept alive. Honey glared at them, as if trying to will them to stay, but they only melted once more in her hands, leaving only little droplets of water behind.

"Hey, this is still good progress," Lucien encouraged. "We'll keep working on it."

Honey's anger now was redirected from the spell to Lucien. "You're so mean! I miss Auntie Filly's teaching."

Lucien, who by this point had been trying his hardest to be a kind teacher and give lots of positive reinforcement, was both confused that the message was lost and hurt that his efforts were failing so tremendously. It's not like he was lying. He really did believe in her!

He heard a loud laugh from where Ophelia sat in the common area as she made no effort to conceal her amusement. "Love you, Honey," she shot back with a grin.

"Ignore her," Beatrice said as she left her seat and walked up to the cryomancer. "She's an ass."

Lucien stared at her incredulously. The fact that she so flagrantly spoke about her own coven leader within her earshot was still baffling to him, even after hearing each of the women here refer to her in similar terms. If he didn't know of Ophelia's well respected status, within both the coven and the Reach as a whole, he'd never have guessed it.

"What you're doing wrong," Beatrice explained simply, "is assuming she needs to be treated like glass. She's a tough kid."

"Of course she is! That's why I'm telling her I believe in her and that she can do this."

Beatrice looked at him as though she were reading a complicated riddle. "You're a strange one, you know."

He seems to get that a lot for some reason. Mostly from the women of the coven, he realized.

"Stop patronizing her then. Tell her what she's doing wrong. Sugarcoating just makes it seem like you think she's weak."

"What? That... makes a lot of sense, actually. Considering everything. You never were a... gentle people."

"We don't have the time to be." With that, Beatrice took a seat on the ground, meeting her daughter at eye level. "Walk me through your process."

"I'm thinking cold thoughts," she explained. "Like eating a frozen treat or playing in the snow. Then I think about—" she scrunched her face and made a grasping motion with her hands—"controlling the ice and making it do what I want. But then it doesn't do it right away, and it makes me mad."

Then, Beatrice turned to Lucien. "What is she doing wrong?"

Lucien thought on it a moment, not because he didn't see the issue, but because he wanted to present it in the right way so as to not get his point lost in translation again. "You're putting too much fire behind it. You're using anger and passion to control the ice, but those are fiery emotions, so it's only natural for the ice to melt. You need to be more calm and collected. Trust that the ice will follow your guidance without being forced into it."

Honey nodded slowly as the words sank in. For a moment, she reflected on it with a thoughtful pout on her face. When his gaze turned to Beatrice, she gave him a nod of approval.

At least he was on the right track as a teacher. The real test, however, came when Honey brought her hands back up and once again focused her magicka into her hands.

This time, the spell lit up faster and brighter than before. Honey pointed her hands forward then pushed slightly to shoot.

Instead of the small, sharp fractals of ice that she meant for, however, there was a stream of soft white snow from her hands. She held the spell for a moment in surprise, then stopped it and pulled her hands back, looking at them in confusion. In the center of the common room was a small pile of fresh snow, an odd sight on a warm summer afternoon. The pile was already beginning to melt into the grass.

"What' s wrong this time?" She asked.

"Show me how you positioned your hands?"

Honey posed herself as she was when she performed the spell. Her hands were in a loose claw shape.

"Bring your fingers closer, and keep your hands straight," he instructed, fighting off the urge to tell her she's on the right track or that she's almost got it.

Honey did as he asked, repeating the spell once more with the slight alteration. This time, the stream of magic that shot from her hands was clearer, the little spikes of ice projecting from her hands at a high velocity.

She stopped to excitedly turn to both the adults overseeing her training. "I did it!"

"That's my girl!" Beatrice brought up her hands to give Honey a hug, which the little girl happily accepted. Her mother took her hand, pressed a kiss to the back of it, then brought it up to press it against her forehead.

As the two parted, Honey turned to Lucien. He, fully expecting a hug as well, brought his arms out to welcome one, but was then quickly met with a blast of snow hitting his face.

He tried to use his hands as a shield, but his efforts were fruitless as his beard and the front of his hair were stark white by the time the spell ended. Honey giggled and ran away before he could catch her.

"Why you—get back here!" Lucien called, taking off running after her. An idea suddenly came to mind, and he too put his hands out in a loose claw and shot back at her with the same spell.

The snow hit her on the back of the neck and she screamed, somewhere between scared and delighted, then turned to him. "That's my spell!" She accused, but she still had a smile on her face as she did so.

"I taught it to you, so it's mine too," he argued back with a self satisfied grin.

"There's only one way to settle this," Honey said ominously.

"Snowball fight?"

"Death!"

"Oh, gods, that's not—"

As he spoke, he got a sudden stream of snow aimed directly at his face, and he spat out in an effort to not get himself a brain freeze.

As he struggled to get the child under control as she ran around shooting each of her covenmates with a heavy stream of snow, he realized there was no one to blame but himself for volunteering to teach her ice magic.

[redphlox]

Tenko's tears; Touya's wounded inner child

As I've mentioned before, crying serves various purposes, two of which include emotional regulation and forming social connections. Tears signal "I'm sad and I need help" and usually elicit concern from others. But, for Touya and Tenko, tears didn't fulfill these needs. When Tenko cried, the adults around him tried to distract him from his pain or change how he responded to his abuse instead of defending him or confronting his father Kotaro. They meant well, but in the end it didn't help Tenko and he felt alone. No one validated his pain; he was seen, but he wasn't helped. The same thing happened to Touya, who was seen crying, and crying, and crying, but his parents refused to acknowledge the root cause of his pain because it would mean facing their own mistakes. His tears, his cries for help, never got him the help he needed and never made him feel better.

Even as adults, Dabi and Shigaraki weren't listened to because they didn't display socially acceptable feelings such as sorrow or regret, and they weren't dealing with their trauma in a socially acceptable way, like crying. Shigaraki told Endeavor, in front of Deku and Bakugo, that heroes only hurt their families, but it wasn't until Deku saw a glimpse of Tenko that Deku decided Shigaraki was worth saving because little Tenko’s tears humanized him and made him relatable.

While this is a turning point in the manga, the way it came about insinuates that certain unspoken conditions exist that need to be filled before victimhood can be validated or someone is deemed worthy of help. Not everyone is equal, and not everyone's pain will be good enough in hero society. This warrants the questions the League of Villains keep asking: who are heroes here to save? Who is it that needs saving? Where do you draw the line? Are villains not people too?

This new plot point of Deku being moved by Tenko’s tears also brings into light how isolating and demonizing it is for Dabi not being physically able to cry. He compensates for this – because remember, crying regulates your emotions, and if you can’t cry you turn to other coping mechanisms for self-soothing – by telling himself and others that he doesn’t care about anything or anyone. He copes with his emotions by smiling and grinning, by not getting too attached. He takes an offensive approach through keeping a distance from people by insulting them and being rude. However, his quirk’s link to his emotions betrays him and exposes his true feelings: his flames became hotter after Twice died and his flames turned white while confronting Endeavor. Dabi, despite everything, still cares and feels deeply.

So, how is Dabi supposed to be seen and understood and saved if he can’t prove that he has feelings if he can't cry? Why would he even want to cry, since crying never helped him? All Touya did from the age of four was cry for help, literally, and yet he was ignored and neglected. It wasn't Shigaraki's words that moved Deku, it was the unintended display of emotion through crying, which is something Dabi can't do even if he wanted because his tear ducts are burnt as a result of being so heartbroken over his father not showing up to Sekoto Peak. The irony is ugly and upsetting to witness – overwhelming feelings of abandonment and worthlessness almost killed Dabi ten years ago and now, when the story implies he desperately needs to cry to be seen, he can't, and therefore he's still alone and will continue to be alone.

But wait – he cries tears of blood, doesn’t he?

I think that if he’s caught in a vulnerable place, if the right people (Natsuo) meet him or if he is finally validated and seen and understood (Shouto), those tears of blood would come out and he’d finally be eligible (as gross as that sounds) for salvation, for understanding, for sympathy like Shigaraki. Feelings serve as evidence to society that villains are human too, and Dabi must first be considered a human. It seems that salvation, like the attention Touya received from his father, is conditional. Touya's wounded inner child and status as an abuse survivor will be the ticket to his redemption IF he can be vulnerable and express his pain physically to the younger generation of heroes, because talking about his past hasn't helped and won't help. Even now, as noted in 304, people still weren't sure why he became a villain even though he literally explained why in his pre-recorded broadcast. Dabi, or his inner child, has to show evidence he is still emotionally suffering because his words won't suffice for society or heroes. Honestly, this framing is personally distressing and frustrating because it pushes a bad victim vs good victim mentality, especially in light of Rei commenting that Shouto, who she burnt and forgave her nonetheless, is their family's hero.

Don't get me wrong. Shouto has done nothing wrong to warrant this suffering, and I think it's great that Deku is determined to save everyone within his reach. This makes sense as his role as protagonist. With that said, it's unsettling to me how drastically different he's reacting to Shigaraki compared to how he responded to Dabi by comparing him to Endeavor and implying Dabi is worse for not trying to be better. Before anyone jumps down my throat, I know Deku intervened because he was worried about Shouto, and that Deku is 16 and young. My point is that the narrative and the writing is setting up a problematic view of victims by having the main character nitpick who deserves to be saved based on this societal construct that people must first qualify or prove themselves. Shigaraki shouldn't have had to show his trauma receipts or be relatable for Deku to want to save him. Shigaraki didn’t even expose his inner child on purpose – Deku caught a glimpse of that without Shigaraki’s intention.

Let me say this another way. Imagine if you had to present yourself as sympathetic to a firefighter, an ambulance worker, or a doctor before receiving their help. It would be unprofessional and highly unethical for these professionals to turn you down because you don't fit the image of someone who needs help, someone who's not "sick" enough, whose house isn't burning hot enough, whose injuries aren't "bad" enough. So why do heroes, as a group of public servants, have these unwritten rules and preconceived notions about what a victim looks like? I understand that people are more likely to provide services if you're nice to them (you catch more flies with honey, etc) and that everyone has biases etc, but this isn't a core value of the helping professions or public servants. It's unethical to discriminate and assign varying levels of care based on how someone treats you or others around them. People in need are people in need, and that's that.

As of now, it seems like the manga is on route to support the League's complaints by supplying evidence that their disillusionment with society isn't unfounded - even Twice, who died crying at the hands of a hero part of the older generation, was not considered a person before he was considered a villain. But maybe if he had come across a hero from the younger generation, someone who recognized his tears as human despite his criminal record, he wouldn't have met the fate he did. It seems that the older generation of heroes don't take tears or emotions into account, which is why Tenko and Touya were shrugged off. But the younger generation will go out of their way to help anyone who needs help, but only if they prove themselves or make themselves sympathetic.

[eternitas-archive]

Oh one more thing before I leave

It’s just my two cents but I really gotta speak it into the world.

This is gonna be LONG so here have a read more

You all are hypocritical cherry pickers that want fandoms and communities to cater to your interests and morals

And let me tell you honey, that is gonna ruin not only your own experience, but everyone elses.

Lemme adress some things

Why y’all so ready to cry wolf when someone ages up a character?

The discourse is probably as old as this fucking community. It happens every other month and I am sick of it. “If you age up characters you are a pedo uvu sorry I don’t make the rules.” yes you do. You literally made up your own fucking rules about this. “Well you are shipping with a minor!” they’re aged up. “But you still ship with a minor!!”

Okay by that logic, why are we allowing all these other shippers doing their thing? The people that ship with Sans from Undertale that is a skeleton? I mean he is still just a skeleton linking him strongly to the image of death so necrophilia much?

What about the people shipping with inanimate objects? The people shipping with transformers? Those are aliens and or vehicles? Yeah that is mechanophilia.

What about people who ship with f/os that have animalistic features? I mean they are mainly antropomorphic but they still are animals. Beastiality

“No wait that is all dif-”

How about the people shipping with villains and criminals? Clearly that means they endorse that shit irl.

What about the people that ship with people MUUUCH older than them? some millenia or hundreds of years? or just 20? clearly endorse predatory behavior

While we’re at it what’s up with people shipping with divine beings? Angels? Demons? Sounds like blatant blasphemy to me

Do I want you to double down so you can prove yourself right? NO! I want you to understand that you guys are cherry picking and not understanding correlation between topics! Are there legit pedos on tumblr? yes. is it a strangers job to care for all the minors out there? no? If I go into a park it is not my job to hold an eye out for all kids that there are. I am not their parent, guardian or otherwise a person with any responsibility towards them. Same for people on the internet. I will do my shit and keep to myself. and if I happen to enjoy stuff for myself that is my right. Do I halt at a red light bc I want to be a good example for kids so they don’t learn bad behavior? Can I stop every person that crosses a red light and hold them a long ass lecture about how they endorse dangers in the streets? No.

“But there are minors on the internet!” Yes, I am aware, they will always be, always have been, your point?

“We need to make a safe space for the kids!” No we don’t? people need to follow the Terms of Service of a platform and honestly most people that reblog nsfw stuff even clearly state that minors should not interact.

“No like, YOU need to be on your best behavior bc there could be a minor anywhere!”

Since when did I become these minors parent? Since when did someone push these kids into my lap and say “your responsibility now”?

You need to understand that you can’t always just get upset at stuff EXISTING

nsfw fics are usually tagged and marked accordingly, most people that engage in a lot of nsfw stuff usually have “minors don’t interact” on their blog somewhere. Some even BLOCK people that follow them and are clear minors, that’s some DEDICATION.

But I have seen posts catering to FUCKING WRITERS saying “pls keep nsfw out of ur imagines and reader fics :)))) for the minors, otherwise I cant reblog it.” If you want to cater to your minor audience sure, but I can not stress enough how you can not tell others how to run their shit. Yes, you can suggest that to the imagine writers or writers in general but it is their right to say “no I run it like I want to” and proceed with their shit. And there is nothing you can do about it. Besides if minors really want some nsfw, trust me they WILL find it. Should we therefore police everyone and stuck them into horny jail? No.

“haha look at this lame ass adult getting upset they can’t be predatory anymore bc they are being called out on their pedophilia”

Idk how to tell you that it’s none of your fucking buisness what my personal history is and that you have no claim outside of “aging up is pedophilia” but sure go off, bc I am “upset I can not be predatory” anymore and not just outraged people are throwing around unreasonable claims.

Why would I even age up a character if pedophilia is about being into MINORS? Why would I age a character up if the WHOLE THING about pedophilia is that they are kids????

“Okay but then it’s predatory!” There is a point that depictions of an adult dating someione who is “barely legal” normalizes predatory behavior, but honestly, why is that MY responsibility? And who says I age them up to be barely legal? My social media/tumblr/ selfship experience is a very private thing. It’s a very personal thing, so why tf do I need to cater it to people who are NOT ME? When I do that it’s because I want to do it, not because I need to fill some moral obligations. (and yet I can say that YES caring about lgbt, other religious, non white selfshippers and boosting them is something generally people should do)

Like there is a thing about fiction. It doesn’t age like normal people. When I started to love one of my f/os we were the same age. The series eventually ended, it didn’t progress in real time, so I grew up while they stayed their age. And guess what! none of this backstory is any of your god damn buisness!! I don’t OWE it to you as much as writers and others don’t owe their trauma to you just so you can “give them permission” to deal with their trauma through selfshipping or writing. Who do you think you fucking are?

Fiction is not reality. And I am sick being stuck in medevial dark ages europe where people believed everything on a stage to be real life. Where actors were not allowed to exist and the people that did act and depicted a bad guy were generally shunned and hated by everyone bc they didn’t distinguish between fiction and reality.

Does fiction have an effect on reality? Yes. Jaws had repurcussions. Even the german novella “Die Leiden des jungen Werthers” had about a dozen suicides following the lead of the main character. 50 shades had an effect. 13 reasons why had an effect. But that doesn’t mean what you believe it means.

In the end I can not take the role of these minors parents to educate them and look after them. It shouldn’t be my job. And yes there are a lot of scummy adults on the internet. Like a LOT. But you need to understand that the internet will NEVER be a child safe place. And most adults take precautions already!

But fics aren’t for morality lessons. Fics aren’t for sex education. Fics aren’t there to be a fucking HOLY BOOK. Fics are just creative writing. And selfshippers are just there to have a bad time. And if they act out SURE call them out but otherwise just leave them tf alone?

“No no, what you write is what you actively endorse uvu”

Then say good bye to Horror and thriller. Say good by to books involving cheating. Say good bye to books in which anyone ever gets harmed. Say good bye to books ever even mentioning any problematic topic that isn’t 100% uwu pure

“Wait no that is different-”

How is it? Is it only problematic when you get off of it? Is that your argument? Are we going the christian route of condemning being sexually free and enjoying something that is legit a very important thing to a lot of people? (yes to asexuals their LACK of sexual attraction can also be a very important topic bc they have the right to express that without being condemed for not wanting to BONE or not being able to get horny by looking at bodies.)

Yes the over fetishization of certain topics is problematic, yes there is a lot of toxicity when it comes to porn and that shit, but kinks are just kinks.

“So you say pedophilia is just a kink!”

No. Pedophilia is aweful and no child should ever suffer through that sort of exploitation.

“But you say rape is just a kink!”

No. Real life rape is aweful and whoever rapes another human being deserves death full stop.

“You just said-”

YES! I know what I said! A lot of people hate real life stuff that they endorse in fiction. Some people are into pissing and shitting into each other! Some people are into hardcore bondage! And they all have their own histories, their own lifes and it’s their fucking thing? Do I want death on all rapists? Yes. Do I sometimes have questionable fantasies that might involve non con or dubious consent? Yes, so? Do I have my reasons for that? Yes, it’s none of your gd buisness?

It all always boils down to entitlement. Y’all need to understand that you can’t just run around demanding everyone to cater to your bullshit. You can not run around accusing people of pedophilia just because they would like to see themselves date a fictional character, but in their age.

If it makes you uncomfortable then don’t follow and interact with those people but you don’t need to pretend to have some moral high ground so you are the better person. You can just... have dislikes?

Even so, as I make this post I can not speak in broad terms because each case, each person is individual. Maybe some get off on shit and endorse it, how should I know? Maybe someone out there is fighting for not policing and censoring stuff because they actively want more pedo content, I don’t know, I am not the CIA or FBI?

It’s also none of my buisness. Is it aweful that these people exist? yeah. Are they prone to be on tumblr? probably? Are they that selfshipper that ages up their f/o so they can smooch? Unlikely.

People have their reasons. Their backstories, and none of that should have to be layed open just to get a strangers “okay” for shipping with the fictional character that makes them happy.

so uuuh before I leave

tldr: y’all full of shit and aging up is not pedophilia, you are just trying to give yourself some moral highground. you sound like a flatearther lol.

Gates closed, bitches

[mrsgrangermalfoy]

GOT7 FIC RECS

JJP

Featherweight by foxxing 

It’s been 13 years since any of them have seen Jinyoung. Spurred onward into a life of crime from their delinquent childhood on the streets, the 6 of them have risen in the underground ranks to become the most successful group of hitmen under the Knight Group. Jinyoung, having abandoned them and their lifestyle at 18, has risen to stardom as the hottest actor in Korea, but not everyone loves him: on a sunny February day, a $6 million dollar hit crosses the desks of the 6 Knights, but only one of them is bitter enough to take it.

Or: Jaebum becomes Jinyoung’s bodyguard under a fake identity to get revenge for a broken heart.

Word count: 124,000 

tbh read everything by this author, they are a quality source of jjp

Anteroom by minyukie

How do you act around your ex with your child in the other room? It’s been almost a year and a half, and Jinyoung has yet to figure it out.

Word count: 76,771

i love kidfics, kinda angsty

Charade by Sugarbowl 

Jaebum and Jinyoung walk parallel paths in many ways, but Jaebum isn't interested in their intersection. Jaebum struggles to support his young son on his own, while everything seems to come easy for wealthy, charming Jinyoung. But when they're forced to partner for a project, Jaebum finds himself a bit more willing, and much more in need.

Word count: 152,145

I love this author’s characterization of Jinyoung, please read it dadJB is something we all need more of

Compass Calling by Sugarbowl

Prince Jinyoung is destined for a lifetime of luxury, until he's shoved in a trunk and accidentally abducted. Im Jaebum clawed his way out of poverty to captain a pirate ship and... not much else, actually. Jinyoung could be his first real treasure, if Jaebum could just figure out how holding someone for ransom actually works.

Word count: 82,944

if you didnt think you needed a pirate fic before, YOU DO NOW, literally the fic that made me ship jjp

Wilder by Sugarbowl

Newly graduated, Jinyoung is determined to try new things. New parties, new boys, and when Mark asks for a favor, even volunteering as a counselor at summer camp. But new experiences can get complicated, and he quickly finds himself a little out of his depth.

Word Count: 76,619

why are there not more summer camp AU’s. i love this author so much they come up with the best ideas i had to rec three fics honestly just everything they’ve written you won’t regret it

Citation by KingJackson

When the one book he needs for an important term paper has to remain in the campus library, Jinyoung catches the eye of Jaebum, a library assistant.

Word count: 115,401

jinyoung’s a dick here and jb is too good for the world, quality smut, cute markson on the side, read the sequel Renewal too

Honey by crimson_calamity

It was always the handsome ones, his mother always told him: handsome boys will use you, break your heart and leave you with the pieces. Jinyoung used to think she was talking about herself but, well. Her intuition towards her son has always surprised him.

(Jinyoung doesn't think she could ever have anticipated this)

Word count: 5693

This is the first fic in the “We’re the opposite of angels” series. just read the whole series (Of all the assignments, Not quite what anyone expected, Let's make this work) cus JB as a demon is hot ok

Baggage by mertlekang

RentAU! - Jaebum and Youngjae have been living in a shitty apartment on the wrong side of town for years, struggling to pay their rent and carrying the weight of their past mistakes. With the introduction of a new neighbour, a meeting with an old flame, and the help of a stranger after a mugging, new relationships are built and their lives grow all the more complicated.

Word count: 47,081

Warning this fic made me cry, but it’s so well done i could feel the characters pain myself, it’s not solely a jjp fic, contains markson and yugbam too

Walls of Glass by hakkais_shadow, katamari

The city's social structure is firm and unyielding--Alphas at the top, Betas in the middle, and Omegas as pliant, broken servants to the Alphas. When Im Jaebum, the heir of an old Alpha family suddenly finds his social position flipped, he's thrown into a world of intrigue, deceit, and as the very unwilling servant to an even more unwilling Park Jinyoung.

Word count: 37,873

I still dunno how i feel about ABO fics but i like the power dynamic between JB and jinyoung and i found the world very interesting and well created

bloom by subsequence

Jaebum may have learned to accept his role as future king, but accepting this new role — the thought makes him sick to his stomach.

If he could have, Jaebum would have chosen any other way to present as an omega.

(Or: Omegaverse Arranged Marriage AU featuring Princes!JJP and a cast of loudmouth extras.)

Word count: 82,833

another ABO fic, but also well done, great if you love a good royalAU like me

꽃이 만발한 차 (Tea Blossom) by seitsemannen

Unlike the other companions at the Red Orchid, Jinyoung’s robes never revealed more than the slope of his neck or a sliver of his wrist, if he was being flirtatious. His clients were paying for his intelligent company and handsome face, nothing else.

The entrance of Jaebum in his life is the start of a series of exceptions.

Word count: 39000 (this is a WIP)

interesting concept, i’m intrigued to see how the story progresses

MARKSON

The Prince Who Never Laughed by seitsemannen

Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away, lived a beautiful and kind prince named Mark, who after his mother's loss never laughed again. That was until he met the brightly smiling apprentice of a glassblower, Jackson Wang.

Word Count: 50,000

a cute fic, i love royalAU’s

Playhouse by seitsemannen

All sorts of rumours surround the handsome Wang heir and the good-looking servants of his household, but no one seemed to know for sure, as no matter the price, the members were not willing to give the secrets of their Master up.

Mark doesn't care for celebrities or rumours, except the one that says the Wang household pays several times more than the usual servant's salary, so when there's a job opening at the House, he goes for it. In the days and weeks spent at the House, Mark gets to know the members and finds out what of the ludicrous rumours were true and what weren’t. What he did not know to expect, however, is how good friends he would become with the other members of the House, and what’s worse, that he would fall in love with Jackson Wang.

Word count: 311,000 (this is a WIP)

honestly this is like a classic, and super smutty and long 

Twist by KingJackson

Mark knows Jinyoung. Jinyoung knows Jackson. Jackson hooks up with Jinyoung who also hooks up with Mark. Mark goes to hook up with Jinyoung and ends up also sleeping with Jackson. Jackson sometimes hooks up with Jaebum, but that isn’t important right now.

And they say romance is dead.

Word Count: 68,964

honestly this was the fic that made me ship markson, i wasn’t too big on them but jackson is too good here to not root for them

MARKJIN

(tbh if anyone know any good markjin fics hmu i’m struggling to find quaility ones)

Blue Neighbourhood by gotsichi7

Jinyoung lived in his own bubble until Mark came around and reminded him how precious friendship was. The bond they had was beyond any friendship Jinyoung had ever made which made Mark special to him. But school was coming to an end and after graduation, there was no telling where everyone would end up. Life threatened to break that bond or rather seperation made them realize just how special their bond was.

The relationship of Mark and Jinyoung based off of the Troye Sivan album, Blue Neighbourhood.

Word count: 43,963

angsty af, another one of those that hurts so good and you feel in your soul

Ameoto (Part 1 of 2) by aquilaprisca

In a small town, hidden beneath constant rain and shadows, Jinyoung spends his time alone lying on his mattress wondering whether the hollowness inside him will ever be filled. Somehow even the smile he perfected over the years can't even seem to save him from himself. But being the only bartender within a mile radius means Jinyoung meets people on a daily basis, and as he watches the door, and waits for the ring of the bell, he wonders sometimes if there'll ever be someone that enters his bar and changes everything for him.

Word count: 28,806

cute fic i enjoy the writing style, light angst, don’t forget to read the sequel 

MARKBUM

ok so i don’t really read markbum but cutiepiemarkeu has written a huge amount of really solid markbum fics if you are interested 

[pengirwinthepenguin-blog]

Don’t Worry

Summary- You, as a child, never had any friends or siblings. You also never had a father. So, it was basically you and your mom. Then, when you got older, you met your two older half-brothers, Sam and Dean, after your dad died. When they told you what they did for a living, you tried to help. And ended up in a bad, bad place.

Word Count- 3090

Pairing- Brother!Dean/Sam x Reader

Warnings- Cursing,  and a little fluffy angst ;)

A/n- My newest story!! I hope you guys like it! Feedback is always welcome! And, this is in NO WAY based off of the real death of John Winchester in the show, this was just easier to write! And, thanks to Daisy for helping me out. And, I’m going to be giving shoutouts to people who suggest stories!

“Mama?” I ask, my seven year old body standing in her embrace.

“Yes, honey?” she answers, her voice as sweet as sugar. I look up at her, and smile.

“Where’s my dad? Everyone else at school has one, and it was just us at the art show…” I say, my smile fading to gray. My mom looks down at me, pushing me back and squatting down to my level. I look at her, her eyes serious.

“Your dad…” she started, “Your dad left us. Once his other wife died, he left us. But that doesn’t matter,” She paused, wiping a tear from her brown eyes. “We’re tough. Right, honey? We don’t need anyone else.” She smiled at me, kissing my small forehead. “Now go play while I make lunch.”

I didn’t have anyone to play with. Except Sully, my imaginary friend. He was the only one who had faith in me. The only one that would talk to me. We would play, talk, whatever we wanted to do. He was like the brother I never had.

“C’mon, Sully!” I yell, putting my hands in the air and sticking out my tongue, “You can’t catch me!” I watch as my chubby friend hobbles after me, his rainbow suspenders tight on his shoulders.

“Golly, kid! You’re quick!” Sully laughs. I smile at him, laughing at his clumsy body. “You better go get lunch, Y/n, your mom is calling! We can play later!” He sticks out his tongue and disappears.

There’s my childhood. Scary, alone, and embarrassing. The worst part is, is that it carried on into my adult life.

Most of the time, it wasn’t that noticeable. I would smile and nod at people when they greeted me, and I was normally… fine. But other times, it was bad. For example, if I was at work, taking orders at McDonald’s, and a customer would come up to the desk, I wouldn’t say anything like, “What can I do for you today?” or “How can I help you?” Instead, we’d just look each other in the eye because I hadn’t said anything. Eventually, they’d just clear their throats and order. But I would always ask for someone else to deliver the order, because they’d probably give me the stink eye when I gave it to them.

And that was nothing. Nothing, compared to what I witnessed.

The worst part of my life probably started on the day my mother died, September 3, 2005. The day Sully told me to witness my own mother’s death.

I remember it so clearly. It was a Thursday. It was stormy, and thick gray clouds covered the sky like blankets. Rain started to fall, and Sully (who I had been playing tag with) told me to go inside. I scowled, but obeyed, because I knew that I shouldn’t be outside when it was raining. When I walked into the kitchen, I saw a man. He was tall, large. Not anyone my mom knew. I thought. At first thought, he scared me. I froze in the doorway, and then he looked away from me. I took the opportunity to slink out of the room, to the living room, where I carefully grabbed a book and began to read.

I was able to lose myself in my reading, but upon hearing my mother groan, I had to look. I watched in pure horror as the man cut my mother’s stomach open with a long, dangerously sharp blade.

I screamed bloody murder. The man turned and looked at me. It was then that I noticed that his eyes were pure yellow.

Just as I thought it couldn’t get worse, it did. I watched the man raise his hand, and my mother started to slid up the wall. I watched her slender figure crawling, scratching at the walls, trying to stop herself from rising. Her body reached the ceiling, and she cried. “Run, baby. Get out of this house,” she said, releasing a cry of pain from the large fire now engulfing her.

The worst part of this bit is that I listened to her. I ran away from my problems. A helpless, weak seven-year old, I ran away.

Eventually, I did find a place to call home. It wasn’t ideal, but it was good enough for me. I lived in a small house with a couple, Natalie and Lincoln. They were nice, but often too preoccupied with other things. I usually made my own meals, and had to find things to do when I was bored. We didn’t have a TV, unlike everyone else in our neighborhood, and I had read all the books in the house. Most of the time, I would play outside with Sully. Or, I would draw. Sadistic, terrifying drawings, but they’re still drawings. I knew that Natalie and Lincoln would forbid me from drawing if they ever found out, so I hid them in a hole in the backyard.

I didn’t know it then, but those drawings of demons and monsters were accurate.

Now, here I am. Motherless and recently fatherless.

Let me explain that second part…

I was reading the newspaper one day, literally cover to cover, and when I crossed over to the Obituaries section, a name stood out. I read the description carefully, and I was shocked.

John Winchester. John Winchester, John Winchester, John Winchester, I read over and over again. I had never met my dad, and he was already dead? I called the number listed under his name, and waited.

Hello? A man answered. He had a dark, mean voice.

Hi. I’m, uh, calling for John Winchester?

What do you want? I’m his son. I gulp. I have a brother?

Uhm. Sorry, you’re his what?

I’m his son. Did you not hear me?

Uh, no. I-uh- I heard you. I’m. I’m his daughter, I stutter.

Stop lying. I have no sister.

He hangs up the phone after that.

I sit there, still holding on to the phone, stunned. How could I have a brother and not know about him? I wonder. I brace myself, and then, again, call the number.

Hello? The same man says.

Oh, it’s.. Uh, it’s me again, I say nervously.

Stop calling.

WAIT! Let me explain, I cry.

You have 5 minutes. After that, I’m hanging up.

Alright. Uhm. John Winchester is- was- your dad, right?

Yeah, what do you want with him?

And your mom was Mary Winchester, right? The yellow eyed demon burned her?

Yeah..

Well, my mom was Evelyn Winchester. She died the same way. Pushed to the wall, pulled to the ceiling. Then boom, house is on fire.

You’re- I have a sister?!

I guess, I say, nervously chuckling.

Silence on the other end.

I hear a yell on my brother’s side.

SAM GET YOUR ASS OUTTA BED AND OVER HERE.

I stay silent, even though I wanted to laugh.

Sam, we have a sister. Her name is-- What’s your name? He says, bringing the attention back to me.

Oh! Uhm, I’m Y/n.

Alright. I’m Dean, and you’re going to meet my brother- OUR brother Sam here in a second.

There’s a muffled noise as the phone is passed from one man to the other.

Uh, hi. the other man, Sam, says. Y/n, I guess. I’m- Uh- Sam.

Uhm. Hi, Sam? I say.

Look, I don’t how well a phone call is gonna work out. What do you say we meet up at the park?

My first thought is hell naw. But then I remember that Dean first said he was John’s son, so he probably couldn’t be lying. I nod, then realize he can’t see me nod, so I say, I guess. I’ll make my way over in 10 minutes.

And so it began. My half-brothers, Sam and Dean Winchester and I lived a happy, 1-month life together. And then, one evening after dinner, they told me what they did for a living-

“We hunt monsters,” Dean says. I burst out laughing. “Like, the monsters under the bed?”

They stare at me. “Wait, seriously?” I say.

They nod grimly.

“Oh. Um- well, seeing as you’re alive right now, why don’t you take me with you?” I say. They look at each other carefully and I ask, “What? Why can’t you take me?”

“Y/n, hunting is too dangerous,” Sam says. “The only reason we’re alive right now is because we’ve trained for so long. And believe me, we’ve gotten hurt a lot. It’s not like we’re perfect hunters or anything.”

I nod. “Teach me how to stay safe.”

Dean exhales. “It doesn’t work that way. Basically, you’re good at it or you’re bad at it. You, just by knowing your personality, do NOT seem like a hunter. Sorry.” He looks me up and down, but noticed me wearing leather and jeans. Nothing too girlie.

I sigh. This one month of living with these two has been fun, but now it’s like they’re getting sick of me. They go to bars and don’t come home until the morning. Sometimes they just leave, most of the time telling me it’s ‘business’.

“You know what Dean?” I say, looking him in the eye, “I’m going with you, and you’re not going to stop me.” He stares at me, a look of pure ‘No’ in his eyes. I smirk devilishly and bolt up the stairs into the backseat of the impala. They sigh, and enter the car with me.

“You’re lucky we’re related,” Sam says, laughing. I laugh as well, going over to sit by the window. Dean was the only one who wasn’t laughing.

“C’mon Dean! Lighten up! Now we have some younger eyes with us,” Sam says, playfully hitting his brother’s shoulder.

I look at Dean expectantly. He sighs, and I know he’s given up. “I’ll try to be happy about this,” he says, “but it might be hard. But,” he says quickly, “don’t get the wrong idea, Y/n. I love being around you- it’s just that I don’t want you to get hurt. You know?”

I scowl. “Sure,” I say sarcastically. “But I think if you really loved me, you’d want me to come so I wouldn’t be ALONE IN THE HOUSE WITH NO COMFORT AND SCARED OUT OF MY MIND THAT YOU WON’T COME HOME!!!” I yell, letting out the true fear that I’ve had whenever they leave to go hunt. The truth is, I’ve been so afraid that they’ll die or get hurt during their hunting trips. It felt so good to let out all of these emotions.

My brothers’ eyes widen. I fall back against the seat, breathless.

“Hey,” Sam says softly, “It’s okay. We always come back home, don’t we? We’ll be fine. We always are.”

I nod shakily, and close my eyes and fake a yawn, but I’m not tired.

The rest of the ride is silent as we drive over to the forest. It’s gotten darker over the last few minutes, and fear begins to creep in. My heart beats faster, and I realize that I might have made a mistake by coming. I try to swallow my fear, and I open the car door as soon as we arrive.

Dean opens his door, but doesn’t close it as he takes three guns out of the container in the car. He hands one to Sam, and holds the other two carefully at his side. I look at him, expecting him to hand me one, and he catches my eye. I can almost read a message in his eyes- not yet.

Dean closes his door, and he and Sam start to walk deep into the forest. They walk quickly, and I have to speed walk to keep up. Damn you, mom. Why did I have to be so short?

Soon we’re in the middle of the woods. The brothers look at each other, and then Sam says in a low voice, “We need to teach her how to hunt.”

Dean nods. “Should I?” Sam shrugs. “We can do it together.”

Dean hands me the other gun. I stare at it- and all I’m thinking in my mind is, Dean just handed me a gun. DEAN JUST HANDED ME A GUN. I don’t know why it made me so panicked, but it did.

“Okay, Y/n,” Sam starts, “Let’s show you the basics. So really, that’s just how to manipulate the gun. I’m sure you know the trigger-” I nod, “- and this,” he says, pointing to a large cylinder at the end of the gun, “is the barrel. It’s where the bullet shoots out.” “Okay,” I say, and I fiddle with the different parts of the weapon.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Dean says quickly, “don’t touch all of those. I don’t want you accidentally killing yourself.”

I scowl. “Fine, then. Keep teaching me.”

Dean nods. “Let’s teach you this one next, then, for your own good. It’s called the safety, and it’s the part of the gun that’ll keep you from accidentally shooting it.”

He keeps going on and on, until I’m comfortable with the weapon.

“So, Y/n,” Sam says, “Today let’s hunt…” He looks at Dean. They exchange some sort of mental conversation, and Sam continues, “Lamias.”

“Llamas?” I say, puzzled.

Dean laughs. “No, Lam-i-as.” He describes one so that I know what to expect.

I nod solemnly, and Sam takes my hand and grips it tightly. I know that he’s almost as worried about this than I am.

We are walking more quietly now, and Sam and Dean are alert. Eyes wide, backs straight, hands tightly holding the guns, fingers on the triggers, ready to shoot. I do the same, but it doesn’t make me feel more confident.

We’ve been walking for about 10 minutes when I hear a noise. Just a small crack, then a thump, but I know it’s not either of my brothers. I freeze.

“Y/n?” Dean asks, “What’s wrong?”

I barely move my lips when I whisper, “I heard something.”

They both frown. Then I hear it again, and Dean and Sam look at each other, nodding. My heart quickens- now beating a mile a minute.

Dean points to a large tree with a thick trunk nearby. “Get behind it,” he orders. I oblige, pure fear racing through my body, and I watch as he and Sam each go to another tree next to mine. I peek from out behind it, and my heart jolts as a creature comes out of the bushes.

It has the head of a woman, but its bared teeth reveal sharp, blood-stained fangs. I gasp, then cover my mouth with my palm.

The rest of its body is a snake- a thick, dangerous-looking one. I look over at my brothers, behind two different trees, and they both look at me. Dean gestures for me to be quiet, and Sam nods his head towards the car. Run, he mouths. I frown. I don’t want to be caught by this vicious monster, but because I’ve never been hunting before, I take his advice. I readjust the gun in my hand, and, finger on the trigger, I dart out from behind the tree.

The lamia’s head whirls around towards me.

I run faster, but I can feel its breath on the back of my head.

It snarls, and somehow, I know it’ll be the last thing I hear.

I cry out as its fangs latch onto my ribs.

Pain shoots up my back and down to my ankles.

I fall to the ground, screaming.

And everything fades away.

“Y/n! Y/N!” I hear faint shouting, but I can see nothing.

I can hear everything they’re saying. Dean’s angry at Sam (who told me to run), and Sam’s a worried mess. Or at least that’s what I think is happening. I feel like it’s my fault that all of this happened. If I wasn’t so stubborn, I wouldn’t be in a coma at this moment. I hear the gentle beep of the hospital machines. I can hear the small, silent tapping of Sam’s foot. I’ve been hearing it for the past 4 days.

I write in the hospital bed. I feel myself waking up- but I don’t know whether it’s from myself, or all the meds they had inserted into my body. My eyelids finally begin to open, and Dean’s face is right in mine.

I can’t talk, but in my head I’m screaming. What the hell, Dean? WHAT THE HELL? I try to sit up to be more comfortable, but Dean puts his giant hand on my chest and pushes me back down. “Rest, Y/n. You need it,” Sam cooed gently. He’s trying to be calm, but I can tell he’s excited to know that I’m awake and well.

After awhile of trying to sleep, I gave up and turned to face Sam, who had been smiling the whole 20 minutes I’d been awake. He looked over at me and gave me the biggest smile I’ve seen in a long time. “Y/n, I’m so sorry-” he had started. I put up my pointer finger as a sign to stop, and  I shook my head no. “D-don’t b-be,” I stuttered, my voice as quiet as a whisper. He gave me a pitiful smile and laughed. “Alright, Y/n. Whatever you want,” I laughed my quiet laugh and smiled. I know he’s just happy that I’m alive, and he’ll never live down the time he almost killed me.

At the bunker that I now call home, the boys always tell me what they’re hunting, and me and their angel friend, Castiel, research for them. Keeping me safe is now the number one priority, so I follow their lead. I regret every second of that hunting trip, and I’ve never felt more pity for one person.