Head-of-a-Dog

As I promised…

So okay we all know that Kookie is basically a cute adorable baby bun bun. Now imagine bunny hybrid!Kookie (aka Kookie with bunny ears and a tail).
Part 1: What would the other animals would the hyungs be if they were hybrids? Or if you would choose an animal to represent them?
Part 2: Now imagine Bunny!Kookie going into heat *cough we all know what happens cough*

Ayyyyyyy I am so up for hybrid bunny Kookie. Baby bun Jungkookie is so cute! I’m going to spam you now.

LOL

This one is my favorite.

Bonus Junghope bunnies

Anyways, Pt. 1

I think Taetae would be a fox. I can’t get that Zootopia au out of my head. Taekook as Nick and Judy is so cute.

Jimin would be a dog, a wolf, or some kind of big wild cat. Something about those animals remind me of Jimin. I happen to like wolf. Because imagine wolf Jimin and bunny Kook. You’d think it’d never work, but it does.

Hobi would probably be a lemur? I like lemurs. He’d be like Mort in Madagascar.

Jin would be those white persian cats. Regal and elegant. Or maybe a duck, you know those mother ducks that always have a line of chicks following them.

I keep thinking of Namjoon as an owl. Like a pretty big owl. Or maybe a Lion in charge of it’s coalition.

I honestly think Yoongi would be a wolf too (or maybe I’m just to caught up in Sugakookie abo). But he seems like the kind that would protect his pack with his life, but also be very calm and quiet. 

Smut head canons regarding bunny kookie starts here. Don’t click if you don’t want to see.

Keep reading

One of several of Bill’s god forms. This one has no real connection to any earthen religion and is more of an in-between form, a transitionary phase that would only appear for a scant few second before man turns into massive monster. It’s easier to manifest than the big God form so it was also used as Bill’s power was slowly dwindling out of our world.

Yes his feet are backwards. That was a hallmark of the God Xolotl; backwards feet and a dog head. This lacks the dog head, but not the rear-facing feet. They swivel around for convenience.

His bones are black holes and his flesh is made of galaxies he’s absorbed, eaten and destroyed.

anonymous asked:

Hope and Kelley have a hard choice to make

“Shiloh,” Kelley suggested from across the table, but Hope shook her head.

“No way, that’s a dog’s name. Wasn’t there a movie, even?” the goalkeeper answered, spreading peanut butter across her pieces of toast. “What about Regan, it’s Irish.”

But Kelley looked at her, face scrunched up in disgust. “Everyone is going to think of the president, and that we can’t spell his name right. Oh, and isn’t that one of the evil daughters in Lear? No way.”

She gave a vehement shudder. There was no way they’d be naming their kid Regan. Not even if it’s Irish.

“Alright, what about Skye,” she countered, running a toe up and down Hope’s thigh.

But Hope sniggered.

“Only if her middle name is Reign. Skye Reign,” she answered, still laughing.

And Kelley smiled and joined her. “Sounds like an Olympian,” she added, “but one of those winter-sport athletes. Apolo Ohno, Picabo Street, Skye Solo.”

Hope just raised an eyebrow at the last name.

That’s an issue they hadn’t even broached yet.

“What about Madeline,” Kelley threw out, “Maddie?”

“Absolutely not,” Hope declared, “you already make too many dad jokes for a pregnant woman. I’m not subjecting our daughter to a lifetime of more based on her name.”

She passed a carton of juice across the table. “How about Maureen,” she countered, “I love your middle name and it would make your parents happy. Giving her a family name.”

But Kelley rolled her eyes. “Listen, Hope,” she said, “Mo Solo, Mo O'Hara, which’ll just end up Mohara. You gotta consider the nickname factor.”

“Mohara is kind of cute though,” Hope admitted, but crossed the name off her mental list.

“We’ve got some time still, you know,” Kelley said, and put her hand over Hope’s on the table. “A couple of weeks at least. And maybe we’re the kind of parents who don’t know until we see her. That’s okay too.”

But Hope looked across the table at her, eyes serious. “I want to know before she gets here. I want to know the first time I hold her.”

“Okay,” Kelley said, understanding, “I know we said no teammate names, but you and I both really love Alexandra. We could use that, let them all rumble over who it’s for until we tell them it’s not after any of them in particular.”

“Alex O'Hara,” Hope whispered softly.

And Kelley gripped her hand tighter. “Lexi Solo, our Alexandra.”

“Kelley,” Hope said, “we just named our baby.”

“Well, one-third of her, anyway,” Kelley pointed out, “but yeah, we did.” And she smiled widely, feeling the baby kick against her ribs. “I think she likes it through.”

And Hope laughed, rising and coming around the table to rest her head against Kelley’s belly.

“Our little Alexandra TBD O'Hara, we can’t wait to meet you,” she said, feeling Kelley’s hand come to rest in her hair from above.

“Solo,” Kelley teased in response, “but your mama’s right, Lex, we’re really excited to meet you.”

psychempress  asked:

You mentioned something about Star telling Jackie to shut up? When did this happen? I'm sorry my memory's fuzzy..

when star was forced to leave the school grounds because of the dog on her head, jackie was like “nice hat star butterfly!” or some shit and star dragged that ass with the most relatable bone-tired “shut up” I’ve ever heard. you can relive this masterpiece in the ‘Fetch’ episode it was the most euphoric thing I’ve ever experienced and i love jackie too so idk man -rea

mobius-loop  asked:

26 for the prompt meme 💜💙💚

Couldn’t sleep so I just decided to write this now XD Not the direction I was expecting this to go in, honestly…

(Also on AO3 Other filled prompts here. Prompt list here)


26. “I can’t breathe” 

The bar they stopped at had a real-life water barrel out front, just the kind of thing you’d hitch a horse to and let ‘em drink their fill. Except there weren’t any horses around here, obviously—they weren’t that far west. There was a dog though, sleeping up against the wood. Those John Wayne fantasies always got the best of him and Jesse pointed both the dog and the barrel out, announcing,

“I like this place.”

Although…he didn’t like it quite as much three hours later, when the dog was howling and Jesse’s head was shoved three feet down the barrel.  

Water that had previously looked so refreshing now felt hot against his skin, scalding even, cooked too long under the Texan sun. Jesse could feel it lapping down the back of his shirt as the larger man pushed his head down farther. Jesse kicked out, got a blow for his trouble, and the sweeping pain in his side made him gasp, pulling a mouthful of that water straight down his throat. His eyes popped open and Jesse could just make out the barrel’s bottom, close enough to feel claustrophobic and too far away to do any good. He swallowed more water, choking… Jesse began thrashing in earnest and thought only: I can’t breathe.

And right on the heels of that was: Do I need to?

Because Jesse had been under too long and he’d swallowed too much to still be conscious. He knew how to drown—he’d done it before—and despite the impossibility, it seemed like his body had forgotten how things were done. Jesse focused his gaze onto a single plank, trying to cut through the rest of his panic. He knew this feeling at least. Sort of. The only comparable moment was as a child, exploring Grandma’s fields at twilight, the tall grass up near his shoulder…the cloud of insects that rose when Jesse took one step too far. He’d seen their black bodies and wings and thought ‘Wasps,’ throwing himself to the ground in terror. He’d been thrashing and rolling long enough to ruin his clothes before he realized that nothing was hurting him. Jesse opened his eyes and found fireflies.

This was certainly fireflies of another sort. Jesse took in a deliberate breath and found that he didn’t breathe.

The man holding him was clearly just as confused, wondering why the hell this guy wasn’t dead yet. Confusion breeds lenience, so when his grip slacked Jesse took advantage, knocking the barrel off balance and pulling up for a swing.

Dripping wet and gasping (why did air suddenly burn?) Jesse locked eyes with Cass across the porch, right as his fist took a tooth out of his killer’s jaw.

Would-be killer.

“Left!” Jesse yelled and Cass had just enough time to pull off, tripping another bastard. Shock still painted his face though. He’d seen then.

When Jesse fully acknowledged the discovery (which was right about the time he put a broken table leg through a guy’s arm) he also had to acknowledge that he wasn’t surprised. Not really. Genesis… from the moment they’d entered Jesse’s body he’d been able to taste the power, thrumming through his veins and singing songs in his ears. It wasn’t just the ability to give commands. Genesis was an embodied feeling, of being alive.

Why the hell shouldn’t that be literal?

Jesse and Cass were ankle deep in bodies by the time they were done, all of them bruised and broken. Not dead though. That was the difference between them. Still, Jesse’s hands were shaking as he stole a packet of cigarettes.

Cass wasn’t much better. He gestured erratically to the shotgun he’d pulled off one of the goons.

“So if I took that there,” he said, breathing heavy, “an’ made you make love to the damn thing,” Cass mimed shooting Jesse in the head. “You’d what? Go zombie on my ass? Full on resurrection?”

Jesse took a long drag, shutting his eyes. “Not saying I want you to give it a shot… but yeah. I think so.” He paused. “Genesis…well, I’m not much good to it dead, am I?”

Shit, padre.”

“Yeah.”

What else was there to say? They left the men to their moans and shattered dignities, only taking some bottles off them for their trouble—perhaps a few more than they’d need on a regular night. They piled back into the truck and Jesse drove until his eyes blurred over. He parked them under a tree large enough to shelter Cass from the coming sun and even then Jesse could feel the tingle in his chest, remnants of water that should have done far more damage.

He breathed in, he breathed out.

What else was there?

Nothing except what Cass gave him, two bottles in and the sun just peeking over the mountains:

“Never had anyone who could stay,” he whispered. “Y’know… always.”

Always then, Jesse decided. There were worse things in life.

vine

SHE SHOOK HER HEAD NO THATS SO CUTE

4

so the comic

3

Do you ever hear something so hypocritical, the world stops working for one long moment of bafflement?

I’m sorry, but Tarn, the guy who melts people alive and leads a torture club and ripped a guy’s head off over a dog to be cool, asking someone else to be reasonable is amazing