ear flop

excellent idea:

werewolf girl who changes according to how much moon is showing

full moon? full wolf
waxing crescent? 70% furry
little dreamworks sliver? occasional tail wagging and wolfy ear flops

that time in the morning where you can still see the moon in the sky? a little fuzzier than normal and some soft awoos

the shot you wanted (zimbits, 6k)

This fic started out as a drabble in response to @iwantakokokringle’s request for a “zimbits zoo meetcute”. 6000 words later and here we are…

“He’s late,” Bitty grumbled as he bounced up and down on his toes, trying to spot the photographer in the swarm of students around them. His search was a little hindered in that he wasn’t sure who he was looking for exactly. He had only corresponded with the Daily’s photographer Brian over email and Brian’s student ID picture left a lot to be desired in identification purposes.

Next to him, Trina shrugged as she leaned over the card table they had set up to be their ticket booth for the weekend. The poster board that they had decorated to proclaim loudly “SAMWELL DANCE PRESENTS THE PETTING ZOO! ADMISSION 3 TICKETS” flapped in the wind as she taped it a little more securely to the table.

Just then, he spotted a tall dark-haired guy with a camera slung around his neck through the crowd. The guy was taller than Bitty would have guessed based on his student ID picture and a lot better looking, but the heavy-duty camera and the slightly lost look on his face as he scanned the crowd seemed like pretty good indicators. This was Brian at last. Bitty waited another minute as Brian looked around the crowd and with a roll of his eyes, he plunged into the crowd to retrieve the photographer. He had things to do this afternoon that did not include waiting around for the Daily’s errant photographer after all.

“For God’s sake,” Bitty said to himself as he dodged a gaggle of girls to land himself in front of the photographer. He still hadn’t managed to catch Brian’s attention until he reached out and grabbed his arm. Brian looked down at him, clearly startled, and frowned. Bitty immediately took his hand back and cleared his throat. “You’re looking for the petting zoo, right?” he asked.

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anonymous asked:

Krypto as a handreared newborn pup headcanons? Fitting in Lena and Kara's hands, his tiny eyes and ears shut until 3 wks and he opens wide baby blues like Kara's, his fur getting thicker and softer as days go by, learning to walk and fly and roll, eventually growing bigger and super strong. Like, I'd bet my life Lena would have a scrapbook or three's worth of pics from a new born that could fit in her hand to a massive doggo almost as big as her couch!

He’s small.

That’s the first thing that runs through her mind when she sees the small- oh, he’s so small- bundle in Alex’s arms.

He’s so tiny. Kara makes sure to keep her hands open wide, steps slow as she follows Alex to the medical room. She gives her sister a wide berth as she walks around the room.

“We’re just gonna run a few tests. Okay?” Kara stares down at the small, small dog on the too big table. “Kara,” hands settle on her shoulders, and oh, Alex’s eyes are soft and concerned, “okay?”

“Yep. Good, great I mean. Thank you.”

Alex studies her for a second before her hands fall away with a last squeeze. “Is he from Krypton?”

“Yes,” Kara answers immediately. The heat of the pod still burning away at her fingertips, her family’s crest etched into its side. She clears her throat, “He is.”

“It doesn’t look like he has any powers right now.”

Kara sighs, chin skimming over her chest when she bows her head. That’s what she was, is afraid of. She could tell immediately from the way he had stumbled around, the earth not caving under fumbling paws.

(Her chest ached.

Her fingers itched with the need to hold him, to have this last part of Krypton in her palms, but she couldn’t. Things tear and snap and break in her hands.

She couldn’t bear to see that happen again to another piece of Krypton.)

“What’s wrong?” Alex scratches under his chin, bright blue eyes blinking slowly up at them. “Do you recognize him?”

“No, no.” Kara tilts her head and squints her eyes, trying to push past the fuzzy memories. “Well, I don’t- I know Jor-El was trying-” Kara shakes her head. “He wanted to send something that could help me protect Kal-El, but he’s, he’s a puppy.”

“Sometimes things don’t go according to plan though.”

(Kara thinks of hurried footsteps and hands urging her out of her bed. Hushed whispers of you must leave. Of silence and darkness and nothingness for twenty four years.

She thinks of herself, looks at the puppy- too young, too late- and agrees.)

Alex smiles. “We always wanted a dog.” A sob burns at her lungs, wiggles through her chest and up her throat, because she’s scared and worried but Alex said we and she’s here. Their shoulders brush as Alex shifts closer. “Come here.”

“He’s so small Alex.”

“I know, I know. Hands on mine, remember?” Kara forces out a strained breath, easing her hand over Alex’s as she pets him, adjusts the pressure she applies until Alex nods and moves away.

Kara runs a finger over his head, nails scratching lightly behind a flopped ear. “He’s so cute,” she breathes.

He looks so out of place amidst the cold and sharp lines of the DEO. She knows what it’s like to be poked and prodded when it doesn’t feel like the right place, the right time.

She gently scoops him up. “Gosh, he’s light too.” His nose is featherlight against the crook of her elbow, snuffing against her arm. “That tickles little guy,” she coos, smoothing a thumb down his head.

There’s a knock against the glass, J'onn stepping in with a curious look. “Report.”

“Well, he’s definitely from Krypton. No powers as of yet.”

J'onn crosses his arms, but oh, there’s a softness to his movements before he relents and lays a careful hand on his head. “Do we have any idea how long it could be until they show up?”

“None.” Alex shrugs. “Right now he’s just a regular puppy.”

“And his name?”

They both turn to her. It’s on the tip of her tongue, a murmur in the halls between her father and Jor-El. Eyes bluer than her mother’s hologram, bluer than the ice in the Fortress of Solitude stare at her.


anonymous asked:

dont imagine a 6'4 matt boyd holding a tiny baby rabbit

i don’t know what i did to deserve such a gift of an image but oh my god??? like maybe the foxes are at a pitstop somewhere on the way to a game and matt just spies the baby rabbit and falls in love and dan can we adopt this tiny bunny? like it would barely be the size of matt’s massive palm and he uses his lil pinky to flop it’s ears b ye and andrew suggests he calls it neil the second and the implication goes totally over matt’s head but he’s on board anyway 


Theo x Reader

Requested by Anon

Warnings: hints of smut at the end, description of Theo’s injury

You found Theo slumped on the kitchen floor, wheezing as he tried to catch his breath, slowly healing. It wasn’t the first time you’d found him like that, in fact it wasn’t even the first time that week, sick of your words falling on deaf ears you stepped over him, fetching a glass of water before heading back to bed.

“(Y/N)?” Theo called but you just ignored him.

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Busy - [EXO] Dr!Chanyeol Au

[A/N] So my doctor-to-be friend came over to take me out to dinner, and he’s been so grateful that he passed his fourth year exam flawlessly, and decided to drain my money by coming over, so this was slightly inspired by him. So pray that he’ll be an orthopedist one day, he’s amazing and kind. And single.

Originally posted by fyeah-chanyeol

You just got off the phone with your mother and apart from screaming at your little brother to come out of his room, she just complaints how she’s having indigestion, every now and then.

You didn’t have to ask why because she’s will answer that question for you, without even having a second to think about how it will hurt you. “…because you’re not married yet. Your friends are having their honeymoons, having a second baby, getting hitched, being in a relationship…” and then she proceeds to tell you the darndest thing, “What about you.”

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Riding with Violet

Part 1 Part 2

Steve can’t believe it, but he likes the country.

Mostly, he likes the rolling hills and long stretches of highways. He likes the open sky and the view of the stars that seem to glitter everywhere he can see. He’s not used to that, being from the city. 

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"Yeah, But They Were All Bad" - A Silly Zootopia Drabble

Written for @trashasaurusrex, for her True Lies AU, which is a gloriously awesome AU.

Originally, I was gonna have it run longer, but I felt it run out of steam towards the end, and I didn’t want to force it, so sorry if it it seems to just sort of stop.

Hopefully it isn’t horrific. Read the drabble under the line.

“Well, Judy?” Jack Savage asked, moving to place a paw on Judy’s shoulder, fingers reaching to fiddle with the strap of her black sequined dress. “Aren’t you going to tell Nick the truth? The truth about us?“ As he spoke, he leaned down to stage whisper into her ear, ignoring the way she glared daggers at him.

“There was no us, you psychopathic son of a bitch.” Judy spat, glaring up at Jack with a look Nick could only describe as hateful disdain.

Jack’s response was to simply allow his striped ears to flop down behind his head, and he closed his eyes, exhaling long and hard through his nose.

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Cats Day 6

Summary: You and your son, Frerin II, accidentally turn Thorin, Kili, Fili, Dwalin, Balin and Gandalf into cats and this is the result (Spin off of The Elf and The Dwarf)
Chapter Summary: Fili gets salty

Master List - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 7

You stop your fussing in the kitchen as a knock sounds at your door. You put the rag down and look at Dwalin and Thorin as you walk to door. They were currently in front of the fire, laying down and meowing at each other quietly. Those two were definitely up to something.

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Paperwork Hell

For csi-willows who requested 25 - “Stop giving me that look” with Hotch 😊

“Stop sulking.” Morgan said from behind you, flicking your ear as he passed, flopping down into his own desk across from yours. You glared at him before letting your head drop down onto your desk with a groan. You were not sulking. Okay, so maybe you were sulking but you had every right to be.

Two weeks ago, in a completely non-work related accident, you broke the hamate bone in your left hand. Hotch decided that he didn’t want you in the field until he was “Comfortable” with your ability to shoot a gun using both hands. So while the rest of your team ran around Central California on a case, you’d sat here hauled up in this Hell hole going through heaps of backed up paperwork. For the first week Garcia had been your only saving grace, but she too became grouchy with all your sulking.

“Hotch better let you back on the field soon, I heard Garcia’s trying to send your transfer papers into the CIA.” Morgan continued and you peeked up from your desk long enough to stick your tongue out before letting it drop again with another thud.

“I’ve been here doing your paperwork for nearly two weeks. I’m not helping.” You stated stubbornly glaring holes into the papers the littered your desk. “Derek Morgan, you have, the messiest handwriting I’ve ever had the misfortune of trying to decipher. I mean do you even try? I’m sure a drunk toddler’s scrawl would be more leg-”

“(Y/N), come here.” Hotch called, and you didn’t have to look to know it was from the doorway to his office. Groaning again you lifted your head and pulled yourself into a standing position. Derek laughed giving you the stereotypical ‘oooo’ kids got when they were called to the office in school. And in a mature fashion you returned it by chucking the orange from your lunch at his head.

Morgan’s laughter followed you up to Hotch’s office where you finally blocked it out by shutting the door.

“Come on, sit.” Hotch gestured to the chair, eyes not leaving the stack of papers he was signing off on. You plopped into the chair and crossed your arms, watching him and waiting for him to say or do something. Acknowledge your existence. After several moments of silence, only broken up by the occasional scribble from Hotch, or the dramatic sigh from you Aaron broke the quiet, still not looking up. “Stop giving me that look.”

“What look?” You asked innocently, which caused him to look up at you finally, rolling his eyes.

“That ‘ you shot my puppy ‘ look.”

“You shot Gunnar?” You asked with a sharp gasp, hand flying to cover your heart. Hotch gave you a dry look.

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m bored, and my crazy overprotective boyfriend won’t let me leave this building where paperwork goes to die.”

“Who decided to be stubborn and walk when I told them I’d pull the car around? Who slipped on ice and hurt herself?” Aaron asked giving you an amused look.

“I’m fine and you know it. You’re just making excuses for keeping me here, you’re trying to drive me insane.”

“I think you’ve been doing most of the driving, dear. Garcia is begging for you to be taken back.” You huffed, jutting your bottom lip out in a pout, causing Hotch to lean over the desk and use his thumb to smooth your lip back down.

“Now now, stop with that look too, let me see the wrist.” He murmured, pulling back far enough to inspect the brace the hospital put on, “Still hurt?”


“Liar. It’s still bruised, and a little puffy. It’s not your dominant hand.” He poked at your wrist above the brace and moved your fingers below it, “I’ll take you down to the range after work and see how it looks, okay?” You grinned happily nodding you head and leaning over to kiss his cheek, causing him to break into a rare smile. Aaron ran a finger over your grinning lips and nodded his head, “Okay, you can keep giving me that look.” 

Fic 479: Moppy

In which Scout finds a friend.

Reliable Excavation Demolition had a lot of things going for it. A well-trained team of competitively priced mercenaries, a base that was more or less up to the strict building codes of the late nineteenth century, and a (mostly) regular cash flow with which to pay said mercenaries. What it didn’t have was much in the way of luxuries.

Luxuries like regular supply drops.

Supplies meaning groceries.

Which was how Scout found himself in the parking lot of Bag’em Up, Cowboy! Grocery Mart with a list a mile long and a wad of cash in his pocket that Engineer had assured him was enough to cover it.

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Marichat May

Day 8 - Fashion

“Chat, I swear to god, if you actually wear that normally, I don’t know what I would do.” Chat noir was wearing his normal black ‘hero’ suit, as he called it, but was wearing on of Marinette’s designs on top of it. A bright yellow, floral sundress. Both looked fine separately, just not together.

He grabbed a bright pink, embroidered baseball hat and put it on over his ears. His blonde hair flopped and curled around the edges of the cap. “Honestly Marinette, I don’t know what you mean. I look really good.” He looked in the full-length mirror that stood by her wall.

“Chat are you blind.”