pluck one and then another


I recently read one of these “humans are weird” posts that mentioned that humans are not apex predators.  We’re a 2.2 on a scale of 5.  We’re not even the middle of the food chain.  Level 3 is carnivores that eat herbivores.  Level 4 is carnivores that eat other carnivores.  Level 5 is the “apex predator”, which is any carnivore that has nothing that preys on it. We manage to be space orcs despite our low rank, which is impressive enough.

But given how heavily people modify their bodies with the technology we have now, with piercings and tattoos and even filing their teeth and getting horns grafted on, and given that we already can sometimes use the hearts of other animals when our hearts stop working, and given that science is already working on human/animal hybrids… what if we made ourselves a 5?


It wasn’t common, before we made first contact.  There were humans who grafted on animal ears or tails for cosmetic reasons, and animal eyes were a popular ‘upgrade’.  It wasn’t until we were exposed to the vastness of space and the staggering variety of deadly predators on other planets that invasive cross-species body-modification became a 'thing’.

The most common recipients of such procedures were explorers funded by a group seeking new planets to colonize; a full overhaul of your body didn’t come cheap, after all.  But when you’re trying to prepare for a totally new environment, the best tool you can have is your own body.  

At first glance, he didn’t look that different from most humans.  His head was hairless, and appeared scaly, but it was assumed that it was one of those “tattoos” humans were fond of.  He always wore clothing that covered him from neck to toe, even gloves, but that was also not unheard-of among humans.  Germophobes and people who simply find themselves cold often tended to cover up like that.

So it wasn’t until several days into the expedition that the extent of his mods became apparent.  He was leading the party through a trail in the strange, red-vine-choked jungle, when, without warning, a scaled, six-legged thing leapt from the underbrush, latching onto his shoulders with its forepaws and raking his torso with the other four paws.

For one horrible moment, the aliens were certain that they were all going to die.  Then he balled his hands together and swung them up into the creature’s gut, flinging it off him.  Tattered fabric fell from his shoulders, revealing that the scales on his head covered his entire torso, and it was immediately apparent that they were no mere tattoos.  

Claws ripped through the fabric of his gloves as he rushed the winded beast, smashing his forehead against its muzzle.  The blood that sprayed from the impact was not his.

When the forest was quiet, and the thing lay dead, one of the aliens plucked hesitantly at the sleeve of another of the humans in the expedition.  "Human-Tess…"  It paused a moment, trying to phrase the question politely despite the alarm ringing in its mind.  "We were under the impression that humans were the only sapient species on your planet.“

Tess laughed.  "Oh, he’s human.  The company just sprung to give him a little extra, y'know?”

A little extra?  Human+?  Horror beyond description.

It’s a shame that X-Men Origins: Wolverine is one of the worst superhero films ever made, because it also contains one of the best superhero films never made: right there during the opening credits. 

 In the first couple minutes of Origins, we’re treated to a montage of Wolverine and Sabretooth fighting alongside one another through a series of battles plucked straight out of your 10th grade history class. They survive an infantry charge during the American Civil War, a nighttime raid on German trenches during WWI, Omaha Beach during the D-Day invasion, and even their own execution during the Vietnam War.

Screw a two-hour movie – that’s an amazing TV series. Wolverine and Sabretooth, surly, stubbled, almost literally grizzly immortal soldiers bantering their way through every war in history – and also claw-mauling Nazis. Plus, for long-term drama: Comic book readers know these literal brothers in arms eventually become bitter enemies – imagine experiencing that heartbreak firsthand, after binge-watching several seasons of manly super-bonding. Instead, we got the worst possible version of Deadpool: One literally without a mouth. Whose brilliant idea was that? And how fucking fired are they? We hope it’s “a lot.”

6 Really Awesome Movies Hidden Inside Really Crappy Movies



A mouthful of a name for the compulsion to pull out your own hair. All hair, the hair on your head, arms, your eyelashes, eyebrows. Lots of people have it, it’s usually paired with anxiety and other lovely issues.  

Mine got worse when I felt anxious, my fingers would just curl up in my hair and I’d pluck a strand out. Then another one. And another one. During high school I’d beg the principal to allow me to wear a hat to school so no one could see the bald patches but he told me ‘Just stop pulling out your hair.’

Needless to say, I got picked on. A lot.

I suppose it was a learned habit though.

My mother pulled out her hair too.

Keep reading

Camp Mockingjay - Ch 7

Originally posted by wellroundedandpracticallyperfect

We asked, you voted… And you decided that Katniss can’t just let her best friend run off, potentially destroying their long friendship! But what’s going to happen to patient (and wet!) Peeta now? Let’s find out, shall we? Here it is, the next installment of our story, brought to you by @appleblossomgirl0305! You have 48 hours to vote on the direction of the next chapter of the story (until noon EDT on Wednesday, August 2nd). Remember: vote in the comments, not in the tags! And don’t forget to spread the word by reblogging. The more fans playing this game, the more fun it will be!

I know I need to go after Gale, to set things right between us before they get  impossibly awkward. But as I look back over at Peeta, running a hand through his wet curls and watching me from the corner of his eye while he cheers up a disappointed camper, my heart clenches almost painfully and I realize what I want.

Taking the few steps to Peeta, I say quietly, “I gotta go. I’ll see you tonight?”

“Yeah, definitely,” he responds with a tight smile. I nod, turning to go after Gale, when I hear Peeta call in a stronger voice, “Can I come by and walk you to the party?”

I nod, then turn before the giddy excitement I feel erupts on my face. 

Keep reading

Flowers (Dean x Reader)

Pairing: Dean x Reader
Warnings: none
Word Count: 518

    As a hunter, you didn’t get a lot of days where you could just relax without worrying about a werewolf tearing out your heart or a vampire using you as a substitute for a margarita. That’s what made this day all the more special to you, especially Dean. He had been doing this his entire life without more than a tiny amount of relaxation to show for it.

    Earlier in the week, Dean suggested that you and he should go on a relaxing date in a nearby field on the outside of Lebanon. You agreed instantly, slightly surprised that Dean Winchester willingly wanted to do something romantic. Most of the time, you would have to bribe him with a steady supply of home-baked pecan pies before he would go on a “real” date. While you loved curling up on the bunker’s old couch with Dean and watching old westerns, sometimes you wanted to get out and do something different.

Keep reading

Heroes and Legends (pt. 3)

Previous and Next

The Author leans back in his seat and turns to look at Wilford. The barrel of the gun moves to the place just between his eyebrows, and Author blinks slowly. “Is that really necessary?”

Wilford tilts his head to the side. “What if I plan on killing you?”

“If you wanted to kill me,” the Author says in a calm, measured voice, “you would’ve done it by now, and we both know that.” The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Now, will you get the gun out of my face?”

Wilford pulls the gun back, but it remains clutched tightly in his hand as if it’s there more for the sensation of having it than anything else. The Author reaches over and writes a sentence on a scrap of paper, reading aloud as he does, “A chair appears behind Wilford Warfstache, and the pink Ego feels obliged to take a seat.” Warfstache sits without even looking back to confirm that the Author’s sentence has come true, but when he lands in the cushioned armchair, he seems somewhat pleasantly surprised.

“You can just make things happen?” Author nods. Wilford squints at him. “Could you make me taller?”

The Author tilts his head to the side. “In theory, but my changes would only last so long, as long as I keep the illusion going.”

Wilford pats his hands on the arms of the chair. “Doesn’t feel like an illusion.”

“If it did, it wouldn’t be a good trick, now would it?” Author’s grin is somewhat unhinged, not that Wilford minds, but he can’t help but wonder what goes on behind those strangely sharp eyes. “I know that’s why Dark thinks he needs me around to reach… whatever goal he has for himself.”

“Dark has a one-track mind that way,” Wilford concedes, “but he’s saved my neck more times than I can count.”

Author notices the hint of blue in that statement, sadness with maybe a hint of regret. “He’s changing, though. You can’t stop that.”

Wilford jumps up suddenly and bounces around the room, pulling books off of shelves, flipping through them, and putting them back in other random places as he plucks up another one. “Funny you should mention that. It’s why I’m here, actually. You see, as much as I like to mess with Dark, put spiders under his pillows or hair dye in his shampoo, he is the only person in the world who cares whether I come home full of bullets or not.” Wilford pauses, shakes his head, and looks back at Author, still smiling. But the smile is a forced gray, a lie. “Can’t you help him somehow?”

The Author takes a deep breath and props his feet up in the chair that Wilford has just vacated. “The problem with Dark isn’t exactly something that one of my illusions can fix. As real as they seem, they’re still just a trick. I can’t make him change permanently.” Author leans against his hand and stares up at the pink Ego. “You must know that.” The gun flashes in Wilford’s hand, and Author notes how his fingers start to twitch. “You need a chance to blow off some steam?”

Warfstache shakes out his arms. “You have no idea.”

“I might have a way to solve that.” Author places a finger over his lips and smirks. “Want to know how I get material for my murder mysteries?”

Will’s eyes light up. “I knew I liked you!”


Dark doesn’t question it when Wilford disappears. It’s rare that the other Ego will hang around the house during the day, or even at night, for that matter. Sometimes they’ll go days without seeing each other, but Dark has a bad feeling about Wilford’s disappearance this time.

He’s flipping through Mark’s latest videos, unable to watch a single one for more than two minutes and fidgeting nervously. After a few more minutes of wasting time, Dark gets up and throws on a black jacket against the autumn chill and grabs the keys to his car, won in a “fair” game of poker. Wilford doesn’t drive since he’s mastered using his void to “poof” in and out of wherever he wants to be, but Dark still needs other means of transportation.

He rolls to a stop outside a particular YouTuber’s house and stares in the windows, unable to see anything in particular. It’s been a while since he’s seen his lovely creator face to face, even longer still since he’s tried to possess him. Maybe that’s what he needs, a good game of cat and mouse to get his mind off of Wilford.

But Dark just drives around the block once more and goes back home. By the time he gets back, Wilford is there, washing blood of his hands in the kitchen sink and singing along to some song he’s had stuck in his head for the last week. “Hey, MCR, guess what! We’re not having takeout tonight!”

Author emerges from the back of the house, his own hands freshly washed. Dark raises an eyebrow at the other man, but the Author just shrugs. “I just thought I’d make you two dinner. Do you have any objections to that?”

Dark shakes his head, continuing to watch the other Ego carefully. “No.”

“Good,” Author says. “Now, do we want Italian? Chinese? I can make a mean stir fry.”

Wilford claps his hands over his stomach. “I think the answer you’re looking for is: yes!”

In Dreams 20 and Epilogue

Well, here we are my darlings. I want to give a big roaring thank you to everyone hung in there with me on this one. This was my first stab at a BIG story and while I felt overwhelmed and terrified most of the time, y’all’s love and encouragement kept me going. Truly, thank you.

Chapter 1...Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 4Chapter 5Chapter 6Chapter 7Chapter 8Chapter 9...Chapter10… Chapter 11Chapter 12Chapter 13Chapter 14Chapter 15Chapter 16Chapter 17Chapter 18Chapter 19

On AO3



5:30 PM

He pushes the door open with his hip as he rifles through the mail. He gives each letter a cursory inspection before dropping them all in the appointed wicker basket by the door.

“Hey Scully!” he calls as he closes the door behind him and begins to shrug out of his jacket. “You’re never going to guess what happened. Lydia Seel died this morning. COD is still undetermined but I’m going to push to have the body sent here so you can do the autopsy,” he says as he toes out of his shoes. He heads to the kitchen and opens the fridge, rummaging about for something that didn’t come from the ground. Her resistance to processed food is admirable, but he could really go for bologna sandwich on white bread, preferably with a square of rubbery yellow cheese and Miracle Whip. Of course, none of those things are in this particular refrigerator, so he settles for some pasta salad and a beer.

“Scully?” he calls as he digs in, loosening his tie and releasing his top button. “Did you hear me?”

His heart quickens when he is met with only silence. He abandons the food and begins moving cautiously from room to room. He suspects she could be buried deep in the blankets, snoozing off a long day at Quantico. Or she could be in the tub, her puffy ankles propped up on the edge. She might even be in the baby’s room putting together one of the still-boxed items of furniture. It takes him just a few moments to realize she is none of those places.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I don't remember anything from Disney, but... Setting: last day of school. :))

(Ok, here goes. This is my first high school AU, guys)

Dean doesn’t find him until the end of the day. He smiles as he swings on the bars to slip under the bleachers, yearbook in hand.

“Should have known I’d find you here,” he says, plopping down in the gravel next to Cas.

His boyfriend adjusts his glasses, not even looking up from his book as Dean approaches.

“Hey babe,” he says casually, turning a page.

Dean takes a peek at Cas’s book about bees and he can tell it’s at the end of a chapter. He waits quietly for Cas to get to a good stopping point. He’s had practice.

It doesn’t take long before Cas is plucking a yellow flower from the ground and shutting it inside the pages as a bookmark.

“Ok,” Cas says, turning to sit crossed-legged in front of Dean. “I’m all yours.”

Dean smiles, reaching forward and thumbing one of Cas’s cheeks before dipping down and plucking another yellow flower and slotting it behind his ear. Cas’s head ducks a little as he blushes, and Dean can’t help but think how lucky he is to have met his nerdy, adorable, shy boyfriend.

Dean smiles. “I think you look cold,” he says, slipping out of his letterman jacket and wrapping it around Cas’s shoulders. It’s a lie and they both know it. But, it makes Dean happy to see Cas in it, and so he usually humors him.

They hold hands, and Dean uses his free one to tug Cas’s yearbook from where he’s just been sitting on it.

“You know these things weren’t made to be picnic blankets?” Dean says with a smile.

Cas shrugs “It worked, didn’t it?”

“Has anyone signed it yet?” Dean asks, changing the subject. He brushes some dirt off the cover of the yearbook.

Cas rolls his eyes: “What do you think? Yearbooks are stupid, anyway. It’s just a place for people to write meaningless words in a meaningless book of people that will all be forgotten in five years.”

“Well,” Dean says, once Cas’s fingers emerge from both sleeves. “I want to write in your yearbook. Mine will be the first message.”

“C’mon, Dean,” he says. “You know I don’t care about that kind of crap.”

But, Dean already has a pen out, licking the tip to get the ink to flow freely again.

“Cas,” he says out loud as he writes. “Nice knowing you. Have a great summer.”

Cas chuckles, but when he reaches for the yearbook to see if that is actually what Dean has written, it’s yanked back.

“Uh, uh, uh. No peeking until I’m finished,” Dean scolds.

Cas folds his arms obediently, raising one eyebrow in curiosity while he waits.

“There,” Dean says. “Done.”

“Do I get to see it?” Cas asks.

In response, Dean pulls Cas into the crook in his arm as Cas’s head settles on his chest. He props open the yearbook on his knees so they can both see it. The message is short, so it doesn’t take long to read:

Cas, baby,

You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I love the way you always have a book in one hand and mine in the other. I love your shy smiles. I love your laugh. It’s the last day of school, but I feel like it’s the first day of the rest of our lives together. I’ll always be grateful for the day I fell in love with the beautiful boy who I discovered picking flowers under the bleachers for the bees.

I love you,


Dean can tell when Cas has finished because there are small drops of tears wetting his chest through his shirt.

“Ok,” Cas whispers, tracing Dean’s name with a finger. “Maybe I do like yearbook signings.”

Dean kisses Cas’s head lightly, pulling him close: “Told ya.”

Send me one of these destiel prompts to my inbox and I’ll write a drabble!

impressive reflexes, lapochka

this is a commission for @idiotbless. she asked me for 1000 words of cute fluff about victor with a cold and yuuri taking care of him while also kinda liking it. @idiotbless thank you so much for commissioning me! i really hope you like it!

as always, i am open for commissions.


It’s three o’clock in the morning, and Victor is trying desperately not to sneeze.

Usually, he would just go ahead and do it, but judging by the inflated condition of his sinuses, the little gaspy breaths he keeps taking in preparation, and the itchy, drippy mess that is his nose, he knows he’s going to sneeze loudly, and more than once. Which, while laying in bed next to his very tired fiance at three o’clock in the morning, is not a great idea. 

The day before, they’d practiced literally all day, and they’d both crashed into bed the minute they got home. They are both exhausted.

It’s worse, though, for Victor. The cold he thought he was coming down with all of yesterday has fully settled in. With their next practice session—this one led by the very strict Lilia—looming in the next three hours, this is a very bad thing.

The itching gives over to burning, and Victor pinches his nose closed. He stifles six squished sneezes into his hand—“kch! ksh! hkkch! hch! kkch! ksh!” and hopes to all things holy that Yuuri didn’t hear. 

Stifling makes his clogged sinuses throb, makes him whimper just a little. Before he can prepare himself to stifle another oncoming sneeze, he pitches forward in a messy, explosive “HEH’KSHIEW!”

He opens his eyes to find his nose buried in a tissue, which Yuuri, now awake and sitting up, is holding. 

“…wow,” says Victor, voice muffled by both the tissue and his stuffy nose. “Ibpressive reflexes, lapochka.”

“I guess,” says Yuuri, blushing. “Are you alright? You sound terrible. All raspy and stuffed up.”

“Ehh…I thidk I bight be cobidg down with sobething,” says Victor, gently prying the tissue from Yuuri’s hands. Yuuri plucks another one from the box on their bedside table, and hands it over. Victor blows his nose, laughing nervously at the ugly squelching sound this produces. 

“Oh, no, that’s no good. What kind of something? Do you think it’s serious?” Yuuri puts his glasses on, and turns on the light. Victor squints, shades his eyes to stop the light from making his headache worse. Yuuri turns it off right away. 

“Sorry,” he says.

“It’s okay—hhAHHCHH! ehhKCHH! Oh my…” Victor sniffles into his now sodden handful of tissues, and flashes Yuuri a hesitant smile. 

“I thidk it’s just a cold,” he says. “Right dow I’b mostly  feeling it id by nose. I’b a bit tired and headachey too, but I’b dot dyidg or adythidg. Snff.”

“That’s good,” says Yuuri, flashing him a sleepy smile. Said smile transforms immediately into a frown, and Yuuri starts worriedly exclaiming over how he didn’t mean to say it was good that Victor was sick, he’d meant that it was good that he wasn’t dying.

“Well…it’s alright if you edjoy it,” says Victor, tracing a finger down Yuuri’s bare arm. “Like I said, it’s just a little cold. Snff.”

Yuuri’s cheeks light up a brilliant red, and he buries his face in his hands. But before Victor can respond to his embarrassment, Yuuri’s mood changes dramatically. He slaps his hand down on the bed with determination, and says, “if you’re sick, I guess I just have to take care of you.”

“You dod’t have to,” says Victor with a smirk.

“I know, but I want to! I’ve been wanting to for a while, actually…n-not that I wanted anything to happen to you that required it, but um, you know what I mean?” Yuuri scratches the back of his neck. 

“Yes, kotyonok, I—HHUHH-kkch!” Victor blows his nose into a tissue that Yuuri passes to him. “I know you like when I do that, too,” he says, hiding the smile that’s stretching across his face. 

“I…!” Yuuri shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath in. “Y-yes. Yes, I do. So, um, don’t hold back or anything. Um. What do you need right now? What would make you feel better?” 

“Just a bidute.” Victor’s nose has suddenly begun running profusely, forcing him to use up four tissues blowing it. Yuuri grabs the trash can from is home under Victor’s desk. Victor thanks him and tosses the tissues. 

“I can’t believe your garbage can has Makkachin all over it…” Yuuri says. “I don’t know if it’s overkill or adorable.”

“Adorable, of course! Everything Bakkachid is adorable—hhAHH-ksh! EHH-shhuh!”


Yuuri responds to this particular explosion by wrapping his arms around Victor’s shoulders, and nuzzling his neck. “You didn’t answer my question,” he says. “What would make you feel better?”

“Hodestly? I’d be happy just goid back to sleep.” Victor sniffles, wipes his nose with yet another tissue. “It’s albost 3:30 id the bordidg…want to snuggle for a little bit add then pass out?”

“Okay…if you’re sure you don’t need anything else first? I could make you some tea? Or maybe get you another blanket? You need to stay warm if you’re sick…” 

“I already feel quite warm,” says Victor. Yuuri presses a hand to Victor’s neck, and declares that he only feels that way because he has a fever, and therefore he could probably use another blanket. 

“Body heat will accomplish the sabe thidg,” says Victor, laying back down and reaching his arms out to Yuuri. “Come here, moya lyubov, lay down with be.”

After taking off his glasses again, Yuuri does. He kisses Victor’s cheek, and tells him to let him know if he feels worse or needs anything. “Even if I’m asleep, you can wake me up,” he says. 

Victor is about to respond, but he’s interrupted by an itch zigzagging through his sinuses. His nose twitches, and he sneezes, twice, into a tissue that Yuuri has pressed to his face. 

“I’b dot sure if you’re trying to help or if you just like feeling me sdeezing od your skin,” says Victor. 

“I’m trying to help!” says Yuuri. “Just…also maybe the other thing. Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about. It’s just one of bady thidgs I love about you. Snff. You know I love you, right lapochka?” 

“Yes,” says Yuuri, wrapping his legs around Victor’s. “I know. I love you too, Vitya.”

Next in Line

If you want to can you write a punk frank one where he is kinda an asshole but flirts/ is real suggestive with y/n in class and it leads to smut in his car

So…. surprise! I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to write anything, and hopefully with the little bit of time off I have I’ll be able to get a bit done once exams are over. 

I dunno how I feel about this one.. it’s taken a while to write… so if it’s horrible, please tell me. 

Warnings: Smut, bit of cheekiness on Frank’s part

“Really Frank? Can’t I do my homework for five minutes without you interrupting me?” You sighed, plucking your headphones out as you dodged another one of his flying notes. Pushing your notebook to the side you looked up at him, the older boy grinning widely at you.

Keep reading

  • You and Chanyeol talk as he braids your hair.
  • Fluff

“How about a place on the coast?”

“The coast?” His hands stilled. “Not the city?”

You nodded, “It’ll be nice, imagine the view.”

He scoffed and continued with the haphazard plaits. “You’ll hate it.”

“Who says?” You said.“ Plus, I’ve always fancied myself as a coastal girl. I’ll wear knits all day and fluffy socks. Throw rocks into the ocean and paint sheep.”

Keep reading

  • Nadakhan: "You can bring dead people to life again, but for every person you bring back, you have to sacrifice one body part."
  • *some time later*
  • Jay: *plucks out another hair"
  • Nadakhan: "Okay I know that technically counts but I really feel you’re not getting into the spirit of-"
  • Jay: *ceremonially sacrifices hair, very seriously*
  • Nadakhan: "Like one time, just once, couldn’t it be a toe or a finger or something?"
  • Jay: "Oh like how you so graciously go by what people ‘mean’ and not exactly how they’ve phrased things?"
  • Nadakhan: "…"
  • Jay: "…"
  • Nadakhan: "…sometimes I-"
  • Jay: "Just resurrect them already."
Young, Scrappy, and Hungry - Avengers One-Shot

Tony Stark, and his youngins.

A very, very late birthday present to @xtaticpearl. Pearl, we may not talk much anymore (which we should really fix), but you’re absolutely wonderful. Virtual fist-bump your way.

Note: There are many small head cannons of my own that are included in this - for example, Kamala and space, or Peter and his university, and the kids’ ages. Took quite a bit of fan fiction liberty here. 

It also ended up being a lot longer than I expected…. And somehow college got brought up here and I don’t really know why coz I was not planning for it. Welp. That’s writing for you.

And yes, another Hamilton reference.

“Tony?” Peter Parker stepped into the workshop, tugging on his backpack straps unconsciously. There was no sign of the engineer, or of anyone in the clean - Mrs. Potts-Stark must have been through - room. Remembering that both Harley and Kamala were on break too, he headed back to the elevator, and waited for it to take him downstairs.

Scanning himself into the underground workshop, Peter couldn’t help but relax. Now this was an environment he was used to dealing with - cluttered carts and the robots rolling around and music pulsing and pounding the background. Grinning, he dumped his backpack at a desk and joined his friends at a table in the back. None of the trio huddled around the table had noticed him but Rhodey, working on one of Tony’s cars, waved.

Seeing an opportunity, Peter quieted his steps, creeping up on them. Tony, the only one facing him, flicked his eyes up but didn’t say anything, looking back down on his work. The smile on his face hadn’t flickered when he saw Peter, and the eighteen year old though he got Harley and Kamala this time.

Unfortunately, it was not meant to be.

“Hello, Peter!” Riri’s voice echoed, somehow louder than Tony’s music, and causing Peter to jump back, cursing as he nearly slipped on a wrench. Some much for spider senses.

“Riri!” Tony greeted, after sending an amused glance at Peter.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, scowling when Harley and Kamala both laughed at him. The dark-skinned girl bounded over to them, satchel swinging at her side. ‘

“Our final got canceled. Some mixup with the papers.” Kam greeted her with a fist-bump while Riri ruffled Harley’s hair, inciting a protest from the younger boy. “Finished your college apps, yet?”

“Almost,” Peter shifted on his feet when Tony turned to him.

“Almost?” he repeated. “I thought we went through your list weeks ago?”

Fighting the urge to glare at Riri, Peter only replied, “I added a few more.”

“You know you’re a shoe-in for MIT, right?” Tony asked. Kam sent him a sympathizing look while Harley starting telling Riri what they had been working on.

“Yeah…” Peter murmured, sending Kam a look for help. She only shrugged, pointedly inclining her head towards Tony. Nope. That wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

Unfortunately, it seemed like Tony had other plans. “Riri, you wanna help these two finish up here? I’m gonna cook something up for Peter.”

“Don’t burn the compound down,” Rhodey drawled from over by the car. The ex-Air Force pilot shared a look with the engineer. Peter wondered if he could hitch a ride back to Queens.

“Come on, Spidey.” Kam pushed him when he didn’t immediately followed and he sent a dirty look back at the desi girl. She rolled her eyes, and he knew what she thought was the right thing to do. It was the same thing she’s been telling him for months.

Well, he managed to avoid her advice for this long. He wasn’t going to give up yet.

And so the next half hour was spent with Peter dodging any of Tony’s pointed questions, while Tony kept - pointedly, I might add - tried to get Peter to admit what was wrong. Unfortunately, at least for Tony, Peter was a teenager and knew how to distract the industrialist, and soon they were talking about SI’s newest line of robots.

Unfortunately, at least for Peter, Tony was a businessman and knew how to steer a conversation.

“Are you planning on joining Kam at Caltech?” The question was a sudden left turn from talking about the merits of humanoid robots and Peter paused a bit too long. “Or a different school then. Which is it? Princeton? Harvard? Please tell me it’s not Harvard. Not that you wouldn’t get in, but they’re all stuck-up socialites who -”

“Not Harvard,” Peter interrupted hastily. “Not Princeton or Caltech either. I mean, both of them are on my list, and I know that Kam really likes Caltech and that Princeton’s science programs are amazing. And I already turned in my MIT application so really there isn’t too much to talk -”

“Peter,” Tony said calmly. Instantly, the teen stopped babbling, smiling sheepishly.


Tony waved away the apology. “No worries. Let’s hear the new list.”

Peter found himself stuck, unsure of what to say. “Well… umm…”

When he saw Tony roll his eyes, he found himself relaxing, knowing that Tony wasn’t making fun of him. “You’re not gonna hurt my feelings if you don’t want to go to MIT, kiddo. Nothing could be worse than Kam going to Caltech. Caltech!” He winked, and Peter grinned, despite himself. Tony didn’t lie to them. It was his biggest rule - and his biggest promise.

“I’m actually thinking U of I,” he said, finally letting out his breath. Tony’s expression didn’t change and he hurried to explain. “I know it’s a state school, but it’s one of the top in electrical engineering, and Ned and MJ already got accepted there, so I was thinking… well… yeah.” He finished lamely.

“It’s a good school,” Tony agreed, creasing his eyebrows. “A public school?” he asked. Peter couldn’t read his tone and nodded hesitantly. “It could use some upgrades…” he trailed off for a minute and Peter shuffled his feet, waiting for the recriminations. “If you’re sure, Peter, then let’s take a look at the application!” Peter jumped when Tony clapped his hands together.

“You… You’re okay with that?”

Tony face dropped and nodded. “Peter, if you wanna go to the cornfields of Illinois, that’s your choice. No biggie.”

Peter felt his whole body relax, months of stress melting off his shoulders. That conversation wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d been thinking it was, and he could just imagine Kamala’s smug voice.

Oh. He wasn’t imagining it.

“I told you, he’d be fine with it!” Kam hooted, crossing over the kitchen and smacking him on the head. “Idiot.”

“Ow! Kam!”

“Now, Kam, I remember another kid who was worried about their college applications…”

“That was different!” the black-haired girl argued, flicking some hair from her eyes. “MIT-Caltech feuds are legendary.” She perched herself on the tabletop, snagging a piece of Peter’s bagel.

“Just coz Caltech’s jealous of us,” Riri countered, plucking an apple up and tossing another one to Harley, who followed behind with Rhodey.

She scowled at the older girl. “You got it flipped. Which one of us is home of the JPL?”

“Not all of us want to go to space, glitter,” Harley pointed out. Peter saw him glance at Tony, but the man didn’t bat an eye, but he did give Harley a small smile.

“I don’t wear that much glitter!”

“You kinda do, sweetheart,” Tony added, shrugging at the girl’s betrayed look.

“Peter, help. They’re all ganging up on me!”

Rolling his eyes, he snatched his plate away before she could take any more bagels. “These are mine. Besides, you took on the role of the middle sibling. You basically asked for this.”

“You’re older than Harley. You’re a middle sibling too.”

“By a few months,” Harley countered. “Doesn’t count. You’re middle. It’s our job to gang up on you.”


“They’re right,” he nodded sagely. “It’s sibling lore.”

“You only have a younger sister!”

“And we did it to Tony all the time,” he replied. “Remember sophomore year spring break?” he asked Tony. The engineer mock-shuddered.

“You two were terrible to me,” he said.

“What happened?” Riri asked, munching another apple. Harley grabbed some juice and sat down next to her, and both of them resolutely ignored Kam and Peter as they argued over the last bagel.

“It’s a long story,” Tony hedged.

“Rhodey!” Riri whined.

The pilot grinned, shooting a smug look at Tony as the engineer shook his head rapidly. “Let’s go to the living room. It is quite a long story.” Groaning, Tony snatched Peter’s bagel up and ate it himself, pretending not to notice their aggrieved look.

“Go on,” he shooed them away. “Go enjoy Rhodey’s story.”

“Aren’t you coming?” Kamala asked, raising an eyebrow in an uncanny imitation of Pepper’s unimpressed look. Sighing, Tony nodded, knowing he wasn’t going to get away. Grinning, Kamala flounced after Rhodey, Riri, and Harley, but Peter stayed behind.

“Something wrong kid - oh.”

Peter had quickly launched his arms around Tony, squeezing him before stepping back and hurrying out of the room, with a quick, “Thanks Dad.”

Tony stood there a minute, bagel half eaten in his hand, before shaking himself. Smiling widely, he followed his family.

GOT7 catch you staring


Despite sometimes seeming like one of the cockiest little shits going, this little chicken is pure nerves when it comes to pretty people and to him you’re the prettiest specimen of humanity there is. When he looks over and catches you staring, he’ll go into melt down and won’t know what to do. He’ll look away and cover his face, trying to hide the grin while you try to hide your own blush at being caught.

“They were looking at me ohmygod they’re so beautiful. Should I talk to them?” 

Eventually he would, after some forceful shoves from his hyungs and he’ll be nervous but the most gentle and polite soul you’d have the pleasure of talking to in a long while.


This puppy will do his utmost best to hide his excitement over the fact that he caught you, or did you catch him? No-one really knows what happened but the fact of the matter is, you were both staring and when snapped back to reality, you locked gazes and turned a beautiful shade of pink. Jackson’s face lit up, despite his embarassment and he beamed at you calming you down. The second you took your first brave step towards him, he was practically bounding across the room to introduce himself to this beautiful creature.


Jaebum may be the leader of six rather loud males that drew attention everywhere they went, but he still didn’t know how to deal with when the attention of a beautiful being was on him. He’d sort of freeze up and his eyes would widen, not being able to look away or move. When you’d come back from your fantasies(whatever that may be no judging ;) ) you’d see JB staring at you looking like a deer in headlights. On instinct, you would mirror his expression, your body turning to stone realising he had caught you staring. For a while, you both stood like that until one of you was snapped out of it by a friend. You’d both be able to look away then but the next time you two lock gazes, you both laugh and decide to introduce yourselves.


Now with this fella, it can go one of two ways. 

First off, he could look away, not being able to accept the fact that this incredibly gorgeous person was looking at him of all people and the intensity of your stare shook him to his core. 

The second option; sassy Jinyoung activated. He’ll smirk at you and give you a look, silently teasing you into embarrassment. He’ll chuckle to himself as you turn around toot suite, eyes wide and face burning but next thing you know there’s a hand tapping your arm. You turn and there he is, smiling brightly at you. 

“I’m sorry for ebmarrassing you. My name’s Jinyoung.” 


This bean will be a giggling red faced mess. You’re too beautiful for him to know how in the heck to respond. He’ll not be able to meet your gaze, constantly looking around but his eyes would wander back to find you across the room, wondering if you were still there. Noticing you were no longer looking at him but off at some random spot trying to avoid his gaze too knowing he caught you, he would feel a little deflated and he may just stare until you catch him, hoping that you’ll start a conversation or at least treat him to a smile.


It’d probably take Youngjae a while to even notice you staring. He’d look at you a few times and then look away just assuming he always looked over when you were looking around the room. He didn’t think you were looking at him, your face was blank and your eyes hazy. If anything, he’d assume you were daydreaming and he happened to be in your line of sight. Little did he know that you were daydreaming but about him. He’d keep an eye on you, looking over now and then, watching slyly to sneak as many eyefuls of you as he could while he thought you were out of it. 

You’d be the one to approach him, catching him off guard when you were suddenly directly infront of him when he looked over next. He’d scream and back off, you’d scream too, scared by his reaction. When you both calmed you’d look at eachother and find yourselves laughing at your foolishness. Conversation comes pretty easily after that.


Oh this pure, innocent soul, he wouldn’t know what to do. To even believe you were looking at him of all people. Surely you were just looking at someone behind him, even one of his hyungs but nope, you only had eyes for him. It actually took the rest of his band a good twenty minutes to convince him you had some interest in him, even if it was only that he had a pretty face. Once they got the thought into his head, he’d keep looking at you from the corner of his eye to see if you were still looking. It’d take him almost the rest of the event to finally get the courage to lift his head and look at you properly and the second he did, your cheeks would redden and a sheepishly smile appear on your face. He couldn’t help but smile back, your blush was just too cute. He may not be able to directly approach you for a little while, nor you him, but you’d both keep stealing glances at one another until one of you finally plucks up the courage.

Sorry there’s no gifs but my laptop is a bag of balls :)  ~ Admin Chee

Why a Hamilton? - Part 2

Character: Jefferson X Reader
Prompt: After Alexander breaks the reader’s heart, the reader and their “Dad” have an emotional conversation out in the courtyard, trying to figure out what is going on.
Word Count: 2,107
W/T: Slight cursing, mainly trying to work out emotions?
A/N: Okay okay, I know Thomas isn’t actually really in this one, but GWash is basically the reader’s dad, so I feel like this is a very necessary portion to the whole storyline. Also, you would think listening to the Hamilton soundtrack while writing would help, but it just REALLY make you want to write a bunch of horrible references to each and every song. (Aka, I put too many references in here I’m not sorry.) Hope y'all enjoy!


You have managed to collect yourself, but only just. Tears still stung your now red and puffy eyes, and your breathing still sounds slightly ragged. You had managed to hide yourself away among a ring of F/F, which made you feel an ounce happier, since they were your favorite type of flower. You run the fabric of your dress between your thumb and forefinger, still trying to calm down. The gentle breeze blowing in sent a shiver down your spine, but you refused to return to the room where it had all happened, afraid of not only Alexander becoming cross with you once again, but in fear that Thomas might do something irrational, making the matters even worse.

Sniffling slightly, you sit up a bit straighter and take in your surroundings, attempting to take your mind off of everything for a moment. Rubbing away any stray tears, you gently pluck one of the flowers from the patch next to you, holding the delicate plant gingerly in your palms. It’s petals drooped slightly in your hand, heavy with water. You find yourself reaching out to pluck another flower from the soil, and another, and another. One after another, until a small bouquet has formed itself in your hand. Absentmindedly, you reach out to grab another, but instead of the familiar petals, you are greeted with a darker skinned hand, offering itself to you. Surprised, you follow it upward, letting it pull you up from your seat.

“Thank you, Mr. Washington.” You mumble, furrowing your eyebrows at the sight of the President before you. “But why are you-” “I may have overheard you and Alexander from the hallway.” He replies, nodding his head to the side slightly. “He was that loud, huh?” You sigh, shrinking back into yourself slightly. “No, I’ve just grown to being able to pick up on Alexander’s voice from a distance. I have very good hearing, you know.” He jokes, holding his arm out to you. “Come on, let’s take a stroll. It’s not like you need to be anywhere anytime soon.”

You smile slightly at that, looping your own arm between his as he begins to stroll forward, taking in the scenery. “Hate to admit it, but I’ve never actually been out here. I’ve always been locked up inside. It’s nice to have something fresh to look at.” He sighs. “Yeah.” You simply murmur, your eyes locked on your feet. “I really wish I could come out here more often. It’s so nice, even with the overcast.” Washington wishes, a faint smile creeping up in his lips. “Uh huh.” “The colors are of those lilacs are so lovely.” “I bet.” Washington narrows his eyes at you, a little fed up with your distracted answers.

“Here, look at these.” He says, pulling you towards a small cluster of vibrant flowers, their yellow cups and white petals contrasting beautifully against the deep green stem and blue accent flower. He leans down to get a closer look at them, leaving you standing there, watching the President of the United States get down on his knees to awe at a flower. “These are called sailboat daffodils. They’re a very miraculous type of plant, aren’t they?” He chuckles, uprooting one. “These have a very special place in my heart. First flower I ever gave to my wife. She absolutely loves them, they are her favorite.” Raising an eyebrow, you watch Washington hold the flower above him, examining it. “And?” You question, still holding the bouquet you had pulled from earlier. “I’m trying to get you to talk, Y/N.” He admits, his voice a little sour. “Tell me what’s going on in that mind of yours. You know you can talk to me.”

“Where do I even start?” You huff, falling backward onto a wooden bench behind you, feeling defeated. “Well,” Washington starts, taking the seat next to you, “ you could tell me the things you wanted to say to your brother but didn’t.” “What? You mean how he wouldn’t stop rambling about his debt plan during the debate? How he would constantly take things over the edge, verbally threatening Madison and Jefferson? How he didn’t even bother to take a break when you offered him one when he spilled his glass of water out of frustration? Or how he seemed to just zone out into writing something, as if his life depended on it?” You rattle off angrily, adding unintentional emphasis with your hand gestures. “Yes, there is that, which I couldn’t agreed with you more on, Y/N.” Washington laughs heartily, amused by your own words. “Glad your on my side with that.” You state, blowing a stray strand of hair from your face. “But what I was referring to,” He continues, catching your attention, “was when Alexander asked you if you had any feelings for Jefferson.”

“Oh.” You breathe, falling stiff at this sudden confrontation. You felt at a loss for words, once again. You didn’t understand why, though. You were never caught off guard by questions regarding others. You could lash back in a moment’s time to anyone. Except for this question. Every time it comes up, your body refuses to answer. It’s like it’s hiding itself away, locking the idea out. “Now don’t say every thing at once.” Washington chuckles, leaning himself against the back of the smooth wood of the bench. You feel like giving him a small glare, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. You keep opening your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. Everything you want to say, waiting in your mind, but you’re unable to put it into sentences. You couldn’t form them the way you were wanting.

“How about I start you off?” He suggests, which earns him a rather confused look from you. “I hope you know how smitten Thomas is for you, Y/N. He talks of you all the time. It’s nonstop.” A best of silence passes, allowing for this information to sink in. “What… Uh, what kind of things does he say about me?” You ask weakly, your face heating up. “Oh? So you want to know?” Washington teases, nudging you in the shoulder slightly. “No!” You fire back, hitting him on the arm defensively. “I just… A lady has a right to know the things spoken about her behind closed doors.” “Those doors are anything but closed, Y/N. I hear it all of the time. He gushes about you constantly. How lovely your hair looked earlier that day when he caught a glimpse of you running something to your brother. How dashing his last name sounds with your first name. How you are so quick with your tongue that even he cannot keep up at times. You name it, he’s said it about you. Jefferson is helpless. He’s helplessly in love with you, Y/N.”

“You’re lying. You have to be.” You accuse, squinting your eyes at him. “Hardly. I rarely josh around, my dear.” Washington counters, his voice much more serious than before. “You mean…” “That he really does say those things about you? Yes. I’ve seen the way he looks at you when you waltz into a cabinet meeting with Alexander. His eyes just give him a very lost appearance, which is very rare when it comes to Jefferson. He is the epitome of confidence, so to speak.” “Feigned confidence.” You correct. “Sorry, feigned confidence.” Washington chuckles. Another best of silence sounds between you two before he gently places a hand on your shoulder, a rather reassuring warmth to it. “Y/N, do you remember the very first Cabinet Meeting where we all had our first encounters with each other?” He questions, his sudden change in demeanor causing you to look at him. You solemnly nod, unsure of where he was trying to go with this. “I know you and Thomas had disappeared off to who knows where for a while, because I covered for you when Alexander asked of your whereabouts. Would you mind telling me what went on between you two at that time?”

That night. One of the best nights of your life. The night you met Thomas Jefferson. “We simply, talked.” You begin, recalling the night. “About what? That I can’t tell you. But it wasn’t a forced conversation. It was back and forth between us, his wit against mine. His words attempting to best my own. There was something unspoken about it, something that seemed almost otherworldly. He took my hand at one point, I didn’t fight it. The warmth from him was something I didn’t realize I needed until that night. We had snuck back to my house, a stitch in both of our sides from laughter. He took me all the way to my front gate. Alexander and Eliza had to have been asleep by then, it was very late. And yet, we couldn’t end the conversation. We stared at the stars, we exchanged multiple embraces. And as he bid farewell, he left me with a single kiss, planted upon my own lips, and a letter slid into my hands.”

“Y/N.” Washington interrupts, startling you back into reality. “Hm?” You answer dreamily, still shaking the memory. You met his eyes, and watched his expression grow into a soft, understanding smile. “You two are meant for each other. You love him just as much as he does you.”

“But it’s never going to work. You heard Alexander back there. He refuses to let me near Jefferson.” You argue, your voice filling with hurt. “Oh, why is he like this? Why can’t he just…just… Stop being so overprotective! I can’t keep living under his roof! He’s nothing but my brother. He should be supportive of my choices, not controlling!” You spit, abruptly pushing yourself off of the bench, pacing around in front of it. “I can love who I want, damnit.” You breathe, clutching the bouquet of F/F’s in your hand. “Now now, there is no need for a brilliant young lady like yourself to be using foul language.” Washington warns, attempting to get you to simmer down a bit. “Then what do I do? If I stay the way I have been, Alexander will very much disown me as his sister. If I do as he says, I’ll lose Thomas. Oh, what do I do?!” You plea, turning to Washington, a sense of helplessness washing over you.

He blinks for a moment, his eyes deep in concentration. “If I were you, I would try to mend these loose ends you have lying everywhere.” He says slowly, carefully choosing his words. “I think the reason why Alexander is so overprotective of you is because he feels that he needs to fill the fatherly figure roll of your life, seeing as you haven’t had one since you were young.” You stifle a laugh at this comment, it’s utter ridiculousness off putting you. “You honestly believe that Alex is trying to be my father and my brother at the same time? That’s just… so ridiculous it’s right.” You realize, your eyes widening as you glance back up at Washington. He nods, agreeing with you. “And Thomas obviously sees this, too, otherwise he wouldn’t constantly be badgering Alexander the way he does. It’s a way men try to assert dominance, so to speak. Thomas wants to be in your life, but Alexander doesn’t want to be pushed out of yours completely. You have to find a compromise.”

“But I don’t have a plan! They just, hate each other. How am I going to fix that?”

“Convince them. They both seem willing to do anything for you.”

“That’s brilliant!” You exclaim, rushing towards Washington, wrapping his broad shoulders in you arms. He chuckles quietly and hugs you back, standing up. His body radiates warmth, making the growing lump in your chest tighten even more. You squeeze him tighter, closing your eyes. “Thanks Dad.”

“Uh-I mean-uhhh.” You stutter, pulling back in embarrassment, you face burning. Washington’s laughter bellows from him, his face lit up. “It’s quite alright, Y/N.” He chokes out, trying to compose himself. “I would very much welcome you to my family if I were allowed.” “Heh, that would make this situation a whole lot easier, huh?” You wonder, smiling sheepishly up at him as a couple of raindrops begin to fall from above. He glances up, obviously feeling them in his bare head. “Yes, I do suppose that if you were a Washington, this entire situation could have been avoided.” Washington suggests, beckoning for you to follow him inside before you became drenched.

God, why did you have to be a Hamilton?

New year, new post! I wrote this once and it ended up being 7 pages long. Wrote it again and cut it down to 6. Wrote it a third time and changed the plot, refining it to 5 pages. I hope you all had a good Christmas and I hope the new year treats you well. This request was made by @animefreak808 and I’m sorry it took so long but I needed the break. Enjoy, my darlings!

Prompt: I saw a idea where the reader was chosen as a potential candidate to be thors bride along with others from different realms and the reader is the only one from midguard, she doesn’t know whats going on but she ends up with Loki instead

Stolen (Part 1)

“After a rigorous selection process, you have all been selected for a very prestigious and honoured role.” A man’s voice intruded on your dream.

“You will know my eldest son, Thor,” the name sounded familiar, “and so you will know of his honour, his integrity, and his general excellence. I hope that one day he will succeed me on the throne, and when that day comes he will need a Queen. So you have been selected as the most suitable candidates to fulfil that role.”

“Does… Does Thor know about this?” You couldn’t help but think, tossing in the bed sheets and groaning into the silence of the night. This dream was slowly becoming a nightmare. The voice replied, apparently having heard your question.
“He… is currently unaware.”
“Shouldn’t it be his choice? Not yours?”

“Your argument is valid but tradition overrules in this case. The process of selection has been designed to allocate a suitable partner for my son and I will not discuss it any further. You are dismissed and will now be shown to your temporary residencies.”

Keep reading

One Thousand Years

Table of Contents 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

Chapter o1. The Bunny and The Wolf

 God rays shot through the Heavens, casting a beam of light that encircled the vast prairie grounds like a lustrous cage. Clouds above mimicked different mystical creatures of Pegasus to Mermaids as if coming alive, jealous of the more privileged organisms of the world. Leaves in the forest shook against the autumn breeze as you patiently sniffed the soil to locate the smell of ripe carrots. Your furry paws clapped excitedly as the sweet aroma rushed up your nose. Hopping on your hind legs, you stuffed your weaved bamboo backpack with yummy treats for your clan.

A plump carrot sat close to your chest for you purposefullyseparated it from the rest to save for your youngest baby sister. With all your strength, you plucked outanother one. The brute force caused youto bounced backward and fall on your little bum. You whimpered, snuggling your behind againstthe soft, dense soil to alleviate the soreness. Your pure white coat dusted in browns and grays while you coughed fromthe foreign particles that managed to intrude up your pink nostrils.

A swallow fluttered its wings, dancing along thin air,before perching against a shrill branch right above your head. A single feather swirled along the nature’scoarse, falling right against your nose. Ahhh-choooo! The dark gray color highlighted your presence and betrayed your position to the predators of the forest. Warps of nature’s hymn came to a close like the calm before a storm.

Gasping, you hopped along a quiet trail, clinging onto the basket of carrots like they were gold. You could smell the stench of the slayers of the woodland. A shiver ran through your small body. Leaves crunched under your paws.



You froze in place. The fur along your back stood up as if they had a life of their own. Shaking your head, you forced your body to move for you had to warn your bunny clan that the wolves were near. In lightning speed, you bounced across the rocky road. The sharp rocks scratched against your silky smooth skin but you don’t even have time to wince.

A hawk gawked above you; its shadow covered the sun from your view like a physical lid. Its bloody eyes glared straight into your fearful ones. Frightened, your claws released the carrot. It rolled down the slope, sinking into a lake with a “thump”. Momentarily, you dashed into a bush to hide.

You dare not move.

Not when you were cornered by several hungry hunters that surrounded your base.

Gawk Gawk Gawk~


The hawk called for its friends.



Tears formed in your eyes as you watched the bird dive straight toward you. Closing your orbs, you accepted your fate. As his beak grabbed your floppy ears, your small form staggered backward. A hidden ditch opened up and you were sent free falling down into a narrow hole. Your ears sprawled out like a bat’s wings as you desperately attempted, with all your might, to stop your plunge but to no avail. You hissed. Crystal streams immediately rolled down your eyes as your leg snapped back. Timidly, you turned around to witness a manmade pig trap that had crushed your feet. White fur soaked in cerise red as you helplessly tried with all your might to lift the trap but your strength was no challenge to the unyielding metal. It snapped back, making the pain increase tenfolds. Your limb fell numb. Sweat trickled along your forehead.

The world was but a haze.

You wanted more than anything to return home to your comfy hay bed to rock your baby sister to sleep. But witnessing your situation now, that was probably no longer possible. Sniffing back tears, your paws curled into balls and clicked together as you said a silent prayer to God to pardon your sister for she was still so young.

A rustle at the nearby underground cave startled you. You could smell the odor of a hungry beast.


You shook, pawing against the soil in your last efforts to run away but your broken leg kept you situated in place.

His long front limbs appeared from the shadow, then his nose and perked up ears that mirrored that of elves. Unable to escape, you could only roll yourself up into a ball with your eyes snapped shut. Shivering as hard as seizures, you sat in your own pool of blood. The starving eyes of the wolf shot through your skull. Warm fur, like fire, touched your body. Thump. Thump. Thump. You peeped out to see the wolf’s nose rubbing against yours. His head alone was the size of your entire body. Soft sobs sounded when he sniffed your injured leg.

Vulnerable and defenseless, your body tottered in circles while the dizziness from blood lost began to desaturate the image in front of you. Your eyes closed. A deep husky grunt escaped the wolf’s lips when you fell forward, right against his chest, voluntarily becoming his meal. The darkness absorbed all the pain in your body like a physical blanket of anesthetics.

They say that when little souls die they have a chance to impress God and be granted a ticket to become humans in their next life. You thought that if you were lucky enough to be chosen, you’d be a good human being…one who gave more than take…one who embraced other’s mistakes and turned them into strengths…

But why would God choose you? Not when you were already blessed with the duties of a bunny goddess. It was only day two and you had already failed at protecting your clan and succumbed to the evil predators of the wild. You hadn’t even gotten to see your own reflection against the frozen lake.

Petals swirled around you, one flew against your feathery lashes, immediately soaking up the water into your dehydrated physique. Droplets of rain fell into your semi-pursed lips, moistening up your chapped skin. You silently begged for more. It was so cold. Your slender arms wrapped over your bare body, hoping to preserve as much of the remaining heat as possible. A grunt echoed in the cave, some shredding noise, and then a fur blanket softly landed against your milky skin. You stirred but do not wake. The pain in your leg, still so apparent, made all energy within you drain. A wet towel was placed against your forehead. Excess water dripped onto the corner of your shut eyes, mixing with your tears. You shivered and reached your slim fingers out to bring the blanket closer against your body. A warm hand stroked your wet cheeks. Greedily, you leaned closer to accept more of the owner’s heat. Mere, weak coughs flooded out of your lips, echoing in the secret nest, as you were lifted into the creature’s boiling chest. Without a single shame, you snuggled closer, resting your face right at the crook of his neck. Your icy breathe washed against his skin. A visible smoke ignited. Your eyes fluttered open for a split second but not long enough to grasp the situation. All you saw were twin large orbs, similar to the magical crystal your clan kept locked up in your treasure room. His body hugged yours close. His hot fingertips stroked your bare back, lulling you back into your coma. You willingly surrendered and sunk deeper into his embrace.

Humans. They were so beautiful. They stood tall on two feet, with their backs perpendicular to the Heavens and head held high. The language they spoke were like musical carols swimming out into Earth’s atmosphere. That was why all creatures of the animal kingdom prayed everyday and every night for God to notice them. That was why as spirits and deities, you were granted magical powers to transform into human-like forms.

Cold liquid dabbed against the torn skin against your leg. You cried sharply, flailing around but strong arms kept you still. Tears slipped out of your marbled orbs like the streams of a river.

“Shhh,” the owner soothed, blowing on the wound.

You whimpered as the creature’s hand once again stroked your cheeks. This time, you bit your pride and latched onto it as if clinging onto your dear life. His fingers slipped through yours, pausing his motions until you calmed down a bit. The fur blanket was tucked closer against your body. The tiny hairs kissed against your wet skin.

You could feel his warm breath against your face.



“Bear through it for a bit, okay?” his deep voice was so beautiful.

A human…?


But you had no energy to answer. With another graze against your icy skin, he hovered over your wounded leg again.

You screamed as soon as a fabric band began to bind around your broken ankle once, twice, three times until it was tied tightly together. Your feeble body trembled, your teeth clattered, and your lungs begged for air. Again, you were lifted back into the man’s chest.

The beating of a human heart…


It’s so beautiful…


A tear rolled down your eyes at the knowledge that a human took notice of a mere bunny like you.

“Thank you…” you weakly whispered into his ears before falling asleep in his arms again.







Sparks of orange and blue erupted into thin air. And suddenly the room was ten times warmer, though you admittingly still yearned that feeling of a human’s touch. Your cheeks were pinched together. Drops of water fell onto the tips of your tongue. You slurped it up avariciously. With the little energy within you, you forced your eyes to open into slits to observe the human’s handsome features, for you were afraid you’d never get the chance to…then at least…at least then you’d know who to protect when God accepted you into the gates of Heaven.

His skin wasn’t particularly white or tan, just perfectly in between. His eyes, like you have observed before, were golden, shimmering, and large. Along with the thick, caving brows, they stared down at you with so much emotion, foreign to your simple little bunny mind. Thinking that you were still cold, his arms draped around your body like added-on covers.



“Are you still cold?” his husky voice questioned.

You leaned your face against his collarbone and though you were already quite warm, you greedily nodded, longing for his skin to touch against yours again.

What is this?


…Is this what humans call…love? If so, then you were deeply in love for you yearned with every prudent ounce of your fragile being to loyally serve this human.



But instead of tightening his hold around you, he let you go and gently placed you back against the ground. You softly whined, vocally complaining about his neglect but his warmth escaped further and further away. You coughed as you tried to get up.

“H-Hey…don’t move around too much,” he insisted, pushing you back down.

At the close proximity, you grabbed his hand and cuddled it against your cheek. A low chuckled resonated, causing your little heart to skip a beat. Without letting your hand go, the man awkwardly strained his other arm to throw more twigs into campfire.

“Savior,” you coughed.

“My name is Park Chanyeol,” he corrected.





The corners of your lips shyly curled as he scooted your fragile body back against his chest.

“I’ll bring you actual clothes tomorrow. I just haven’t gotten the chance to because I was afraid of leaving you alone in the cave,” he informed.

You instantly nodded and snuggled back into him.

W-wait, clothes?


Your eyes sprung open and you jolted upright. The blanket slipped from your shoulders to your waist. You gasped.

W-when…when did I transform into my human form?

Panicking, you immediately crossed your arms over your exposed chest. Like a gentleman, the handsome male turned away to give you time to readjust the blanket over your bare frame. A hot flush gathered along your cheeks. This whole time, you thought you were in your bunny form. Quickly, you covered your body with the gray fur coat.

“S-so…you must be the new bunny goddess,” Chanyeol’s low voice said, breaking the awkward tension. His head was still turned away.

“Mmm…two days…” you timidly whispered while admiring your human-like nails…“W-well…two days before I got hurt…”

“Hmm…” he nodded understandingly, “No wonder…”

You stared at him blankly as he took a quick glimpse to check if you were fully covered before turning his whole body around. Instantly, you lowered your head, blushing until you were bright red. His threw you a toothy smile.



As you continued to fidget around bashfully, Chanyeol unclasped the necklace around his neck and hovered above you. You flinched at the close proximity. It was so warm…and well…cozy and sweet.

The necklace was placed around your neck. You gazed at him, already studying his physical features over and over again like a pet would its owner.

“It’s a talisman,” he answered your unasked question, “Inside are a few scrolls. One being that when you transform into your human form, you will be clothed and others won’t be able to smell your scent”. He chuckled when you hid your face behind your hair.

“You know…’cause not everyone is a gentlemen, like me,” he teasingly added with a wink, which only caused you to further hide yourself.


“Chanyeol,” he corrected but you were too shy to call a human by his real name.

“…H-how…how do you know that I am the bunny goddess?” you stuttered.

“Oh, that’s easy. Because you were still in your bunny form before you fainted,” he laughed.


Suddenly, your heart began to pace. Your lungs sucked in air. Your long tresses whipped around and your body trembled.



You could smell the scent of a wolf very, very close.

“W-what’s wrong?” Chanyeol asked, looking around to check out what had ‘cause your sudden panic-stricken state.

Immediately, you grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the opening of the cave.

“Wolf. I smell a wolf!” you hissed, “Savior…don’t go out there…”

The smile on his face dropped.

It was so close.

The scent was so strong…you swore…he was…right…



Your eyes widened. In an instant, you bounced away. Your bare back hit against the rocky and wet walls of the cave.

“Y-you’re…you’re…” you gasped, finally recognizing those honey eyes from the image of the wolf who surrounded you right before you fainted that other day.

Completely bewildered, you jolted upright to make a run for it but as soon as your toes touched the ground, a shooting pain ran up your leg. You screamed, your leg buckling. The wolf spirit hastily pounced forward, catching you into his warm arms. You thrashed around like a caught prey, using its dying energy in hopes of survival.

“Shhh…Shhh…c-calm down…” Chanyeol coaxed, stroking his long fingers across your cheeks but your small frame continued to convulsively quiver until you thought your bones would break.

I-Is…is he going to eat me?

Your eyes landed on the campfire and you opened your mouth to scream again but Chanyeol clasped his hand over your lips so all that came out were muffled sobs.

“Shhh…It’s okay…I won’t hurt you…” he said but your heart was beating so fast, you were seeing doubles of everything.

“I won’t hurt you…” he repeated, stroking your hair but you could smell his stench.

Succumbed in tears, you crawled over to a corner and recoiled into a ball. You should have known…you should have known that no human would find interest in you. Only a wolf would because he was the predator and you were the prey. Shivering, you backed up further and further away, ignoring the pain on your ankle as you practically dragged it along with you.

“Come back closer to the fire or you’ll get cold again,” Chanyeol motioned but you shook your head.

If I go over to the fire…he’ll cook me…


Not knowing what to do, you whimpered and sobbed in your rolled up palms.

“I won’t hurt you…” he said again, “If I wanted to do that…I would have done so days ago…”

Momentarily, you quieted your sobs but do not unfold yourself from your protective fetal position. Your stomach grumbled.

“You must be hungry. Do you want some?” the attractive wolf spirit asked, offering the cooked squirrel on a stick.

You gasped in terror, immediately paling to the shade of a frozen lake. Your head hung low as the weeping began again. He was going to cook you…you were so, so sure.

In an instant, Chanyeol retracted his offer, “Oh…Omgosh…I’m so sorry. I forgot bunnies only ate vegetables”.

When you continued to cry, he scampered and scratched his head nervously, “U-um…Um…I’ll…I’ll go fetch some carrots for you. I’m be back really soon!”

Still fearing for your life, you don’t respond. After pacing back and forth and deliberating to himself, he walked out of the cave. Your first instinct was to run for your life but as soon as you hobbled your way over to the exit, you realized that the pit was at least thirty feet high. There was no way you could climb up there regularly, much less when you were heavily injured. But you stubbornly tried anyway.

It was so, so cold without the comfort of Chanyeol’s fire. Placing your palms on a protuberant rock, you pulled yourself up. Yet, as soon as your wounded feet met with the hard surface of the structure, you cried in anguish, double overing in pain. Blood seeped out of the bandage. Within seconds, a pool of dark red soaked up your feet. You bit your tongue from screaming in case you alerted nearby beasts.

But the pain was so incapacitating, it took you a good minute before you recognized the familiar scent of a wolf closing in. Expertly, he jumped down the ditch, landing right in front of you. Your glossy eyes stared into his as he instantly knelt down to examine your leg. Without a word, you were scooped up into his arms and walked back into the cave. You trembled against his burning chest, already feeling light headed from the blood lost. As gentle as ever, you were placed back against the soft hay bed. Straightaway, you backed up into the corner, dragging the trail of blood with you.

Don’t…move!” he growled, holding your leg steady.

You panicked and broke down again at his harsh tone.

Grimacing, the wolf spirit tore a strip of fabric from his robe and began to bind your leg again. But the wound had completely reopened and blood kept seeping out.

“Hold this,” he ordered. When you didn’t move, he grabbed your hand and placed it onto your leg, “I’ll be right back”.

In lightning speed, you watched as he transformed back into his animal form and pounced up the wall, back into the light. Dazed and scared, you helplessly observed as your own blood soaked all over your beautiful human-like fingers. Quickly, you applied more pressure, hoping to stop the bleeding enough to not awaken the predator instincts of Park Chanyeol.

Like he had promised, he was back within a minute with a few planks of wood grinded in his teeth. You tensed up seeing the gray skinned beast. Sensing your fear, Chanyeol immediately transformed back into his human form.

Two planks were placed on either side of your leg before he strapped the makeshift cast with bands and bands of bandages. You groaned in pain with every pull and every tuck. By the end of it, a film of sweat had accumulated on both your foreheads. You were as pale as a sheet of paper.

“Don’t move around, okay?” he warned, though he spoke in a soft voice.

You bit your lip to stop from crying.

“Shh…” he whispered, wiping your wet forehead with his sleeve.

You felt like a prisoner…some toy…but you couldn’t do anything to save yourself and the more he nursed you, the more you feared that it was part of some evil scheme.

“Here, I got you come carrots, lettuces, and cabbage to eat,” Chanyeol offered, holding out the food.

Timidly, you reached out but retreated as soon as you realized that there was a high possibility of him poisoning them to get you to reveal secret information about your clan’s hideout. You curled back up into a ball.

With a sad smile, Chanyeol brought a plump carrot up to his lips and took a big bite to prove that they were safe to eat. Still, you were fearful but your stomach continued to grumble. So with hesitancy, you reached out and snatched a small carrot from the floor. Without taking your eyes off of the wolf spirit, you began to nibble on the yummy snack. Unknowingly, you had finished it and reached out for a second one.




A cute giggle escaped as you happily chewed on your veggies. Chanyeol chuckled and sincerely smiled at your uplifted spirits, causing you to shyly turn away.

“What’s your name?” he broke the silence.

You stopped nibbling on your carrot to look up at him.

“I…I don’t have one…” you honestly whispered.

“Don’t have one?”

“I…I’m just a bunny…we don’t have names…” you smacked your lips tightly together and held the carrot against your heart, suddenly missing your baby sister. She must have grown so much over the last few days. Your eyes began to water but you refused to cry again in front of your predator.

“Dal-nim,” his deep beautiful voice spoke.

“Hmm?” you looked up, confused.

“From today on, your name will be Dal-nim…” Chanyeol concluded, gazing lovingly into your eyes.

A tear dropped onto the floor of the cave.


You were finally given an identity…you weren’t a nobody.

“Dal-nim…” he called again.

He placed his hand on top of yours and you surprised yourself by not flinching. A shy smile spread across your face as your cheeks highlighted in a tinge of pink. 

a/n: Yay! I am back :D Hope you guys enjoyed the long pilot chapter! So the main character is a bunny goddess, she can turn into a human form but she’s not used to it yet because she learned the spell two days before she got injured ;p. Chanyeol is wolf spirit, just like Dal-nim, he can transform from his animal form to his human form and back. Hehehe.

Read my other EXO fanfics and scenarios here: Panda Island Story Archive

I update daily so follow, like, spaz with me!


When I love, I love madly. I’ll let you run through my veins instead of blood and crawl out of my eyes each night. I’ll let you drive me insane and show you the ballet of our entwined souls. I swear, babe, I’ll let you ruin my lipstick, crush me into sheets and envelope me in smoke. But darling, when it comes to a goodbye.. a goodbye, you say? I’ll pluck you out of myself - roots, one after another. No, I won’t cut off your stems. I won’t see your blue blood ooze out of that hard stone of a heart. I will burn the bridges and bury you under a crumpled mess of the love letters I never posted. I’ll plant a poison ivy around the tomb of your memories and let them suffocate to death.

Taming The Brat Pt.7

It’s that time again. Lmfao, please ignore me, I’m nervous and wanna ramble, but I don’t really have anything to say. I think I’m nervous because each part just keeps getting longer and longer, and I know some of you said you didn’t mind, but I think 25k+ words might just be taking the biscuit. Forgive me, and I hope you enjoy!

Lil’ Disclaimer
Genre: Angst/Smut/Nora’s AU
Requested: yup and nope
Warnings: NSFW, 18+ content, mentions of abortion, mild violence, constant swearing, crude af as always, maybe not quite vanilla but not really BDSM smut, I don’t even know what warnings to put anymore, hopefully I’ve mentioned anything that might be triggering. Please tell me if I need to add anything else ^^

Pt.1 | Pt.2 | Pt.3 | Pt.4 | Pt.5 | Pt.5.5 | Pt.6 | Pt.7 | Pt.8 | Pt.9.1 | Pt.9.2 | Pt.10

Originally posted by polarbeom

Originally posted by kkuljae

Despite what fairytales might have the young believe, there are many stories in life that just aren’t destined for a happy ending. I’m truly beginning to wonder if mine, is one of those tales. Just how powerful is Fate anyway? I’ve come to realise the older I get, if it has a big enough influence over my life, it’s because I let it. It seemed like a good idea at the time, I mean, what else can you do when you discover you’re one of the unfortunate ones? The ones who can never quite choose between their heads or their hearts. I always hated that feeling, the fear of being stuck in limbo, battling the constant back and forth of indecision. I ran from the weight of responsibility and made a simple choice instead. I’m not sure exactly when during childhood my tradition began, all I know is that somewhere along the way, I chose to put every monumental decision I would ever need to make in the hands of destiny. I chose to play a game and keep playing, no matter the consequences. After all, when the path you’re on was supposedly pre decided, consequences don’t seem quite so consequential anymore. But if that’s true, why isn’t it working now? Sitting here with a the stem of what was once a beautiful Carnation in hand, Fate doesn’t quite seem enough. Suddenly, I think I’m an idiot whose spent the majority of her spoilt life living in a dream world, getting everything I want whenever I want it and the only reason I never worry over consequences is because until now, no one ever taught me what they are. Thinking back, no matter how badly I acted out as a child, I can’t recall ever being punished. I’ve led a relatively easy life, what real hardships have I faced? I’ve found it easy to leave my life to Fate, because I’ve never thought about any of the decisions I’ll make potentially destroying someone else’s life before. When I bring that into the equation, it doesn’t make my methods of madness seem anywhere close to sane. How is simultaneously plucking petals I’ve assigned to one or another pathway from a random flower gonna help me come to a sensical decision? And just because it tells me it’s what I should do, how is it actually supposed to help me open my mouth and free the truth? This game is stupid, and I’m stupid for ever prolonging it.

Keep reading