Which headcanon would you like to read?
Godzilla AU where the kaiju are actually just regular house pets. Godzilla? Serizawa’s pet bearded dragon.
Mothra? A Venezuelan Poodle moth.
Rodan? A red-tailed black cockatoo.
Ghidorah? Three gold pythons.
Gigan? An overly-agressive rooster.
They go on adventures together sometimes (until their respective owners manage to get a hold of them again).
Rinde was beginning to grate on her nerves, but she didn’t dare leave the safety of asylum when it still sat safely in her lap. Instead, she simply sighed and dropped her head in her hands, shoving away the bin she had just emptied the contents of her stomach into off to the side. She sat upright and began to nervously bite at her nails, her violet eyes staring out into the night sky as she tried to calm her racing heart.
“I can’t be.” She breathed, her hands now coming up to tangle in her mane of ebony locks. “I can’t be.”
She stood from the bed and made her way over to her desk, gathering up the courage to even begin to run the exam before finally doing so. Eyes flashing white as magic coursed through her arms to her hands, she pressed her palms flat against her abdomen, allowing herself to see within her own body for the proof of her deepest desire but biggest fear. With growing dread, she found her solution.
“Oh no…” She gasped, magic fleeing her as her eyes returned to their violet hue, dropping to the floor with her hand flying to her mouth. “I can’t be pregnant. Not now.”
She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t recall the name of the last man she had shared her bed with, and she certainly wasn’t going to waste her time looking for him. She picked herself up off of the floor and made her way back to her bed with shaking legs and a growing sense of dread. She had hoped to become a mother, though she thought the chance was long gone due to her sterilization while she was an initiate are Aretuza. She collapsed back onto the comforter, her head falling to her plush pillows as she stared up at the ceiling above her. Slowly, painfully slowly, her hands came to rest on her abdomen while her thoughts wandered with images of a possible future.
Teaching her daughter or son magic. Teaching them Elder Speech and how to preform their first spell. Taking them to members of the Lodge or the remnants of the Brotherhood. And just like that, a soft smile pulled at her lips as her gaze travelled down to her stomach.
“Whoever you turn out to be, you will be someone great.” She beamed, smoothing out the fabric of her nightgown. “I will teach you all I know. I will love you unconditionally, no matter what.”
Her smile only grew with her thoughts of the future and of the child growing within her womb.
“I cannot wait to see who you become.”
An au in which “La casa de Papel” has had its title translated in english as “The house of paper”
So, who is he?
He is Link other personality, sleeping in the back of their shared mind. The name of Mnemos came into life with the idea of The Oracle of Secrets; Farore and the literal traduction of the word referring to memory because he didn’t wanted to be called “Champion” or “Prodige”.
Breath of the Wild Au :
He is often lapsed in darkness and cannot help Link as much as he would have wanted. Mnemos can in a few occasions :
- Try to shield Link from nightmares, leaving the man waking up confused feeling like someone gently pet his hair.
- Help Link retrieve memories in key places, not always with the best timing he’d admit.
- Would bring back Link whenever the man lost consciousness while not being in a safe place.
- In rare situation while being pissed off he would suddenly hit the nearest object in his range, startling the hell out off Link, his interlocutor and even himself. That is how he understood Link could feel his moods but couldn’t always contain them as well as he used to. (Or where Link has little to no filter.)
At first he was confused, his last memory was painted in pain, blood, guardian, laser beams and cries of the princess.
A/N: I wrote the first part of the movie. If anyone wants to see more, tell me.
Stiles had been sitting at the piano for what felt like hours, the chords at his fingertips and the words on the paper in front of him not quite fitting together. It was upsetting, to be so close to finished and yet so far. A persistent series of barks came from the front door and he couldn’t help but smile. Pongo was ready for his daily walk and that meant Stiles was granted a reprieve from being hunched over the piano like a hermit.
“Coming, boy,” he murmured, sliding the fallboard down over the piano keys gently. He swung his legs over the bench and stood, stretching toward the sky and sighing in relief when a string of pops went down his spine. The barking hadn’t stopped, not for a moment, and he hurriedly pulled on his jacket and frayed beanie that had seen one too many encounters with Pongo’s teeth. He hooked his dalmatian up to his leash and they set out onto the streets of the city, Pongo pulling on his leash like their usually leisurely walk wasn’t fast enough.
Pongo swerved through strangers and tugged him down the familiar paths, Stiles practically stumbling behind him. The speckled dog was stubborn, to say the least, and Stiles’ feeble protests of “slow down” and “be patient” fell on deaf ears. He was too focused on his goal, it seemed.
A woman caught Stiles’ attention, her hair a deep red and her dog sporting the same color. She looked like someone who read poetry in a cafe of some sort, but before Stiles could strike up a conversation or contemplate her appearance Pongo tugged him further down the path. She was out of sight within moments.
Then Stiles’ stubborn bastard of a canine stopped in his tracks, nearly making his human knock him over. It was like whatever Pongo had been frantically searching for had either slipped his mind or he’d found it. Stiles didn’t know which one he wished it was. They continued at a normal pace, one that Stiles was used to, and they stopped near the pong like they always did for a bit of a rest.
It was nice to get a bit of fresh air and sit in the grass like he was a kid again, when things were simpler. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, relished in the breeze brushing his face and ruffling his jacket. Then, as if Pongo hadn’t already earned his title as a handful, the silly dog snatched Stiles’ beanie straight from the top of his head and bounded away like they were playing a game.
Stiles, who was in an awkward position on his stomach, didn’t know whether to laugh or scold Pongo. Then he dropped the beanie on a bench next to the most beautiful man Stiles had ever seen. All Stiles wanted to do then was hide his face and moan from embarrassment. The man, dressed in fitted dress clothes and holding the leash to a beautiful dalmatian of his own in one hand and a book in the other, made eye contact with Stiles for a brief moment and it was enough to stop Stiles’ heart in his chest.
He was dark-haired and he had a beard, well cared for and thick. He looked like a body-builder if body-builders wore slim-fit slacks, glasses, and shirts with buttons that looked like they were going to burst. This stranger was exactly Stiles’ type, and he was getting up and walking away. Stiles scrambled to his feet and retrieved both his dog and his hat. He told himself to give Pongo a good talking to later, but for now his brain was mush.
“We’re going home, Pongo,” he mumbled, his tongue feeling a bit heavy in his mouth, but Pongo was having none of it. He fought with a fury to get away and eventually ended up dragging his poor, scatterbrained owner down the path until they reached the beautiful man that had done the brain scattering.
Pongo cut the dark-haired man off and Stiles realized too late what was going on. Within seconds, the brunette and the raven-haired stranger’s legs were tangled together and held by Pongo’s red leash. He looked extremely proud of himself and Stiles vowed to never give him treats again.
“I’m so sorry!” Stiles exclaimed, keeping his hands up and away from the person he was wound up with to avoid any awkward contact. The stranger, obviously trying to avoid falling onto the gravel path, gripped Stiles’ shoulders.
There was a sickening ripping sound and then the two of them were soaked from head to toe in pond water, untangled but clearly in a much worse situation. The two dalmatians stood at the edge of the pond, one carrying a strip of cloth and both of them curious about the proceedings but not willing to jump in and help anytime soon. Stiles couldn’t find it within himself.
The stranger Stiles had dragged into the water struggled to his feet, muttering under his breath about interviews and ruined clothes. There was a hole in the back of his shirt and Stiles mourned the death of such a beautiful item of clothing. In fact, the mourning probably delayed his trip back to dry land.
“I’m so sorry,” Stiles tried when they stumbled from the pond, flustered and desperately wishing this was all a dream. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him. He’d never acted like this before. Really. No other pond accidents on his record except for─”
“Just go away,” the dark-haired stranger said gruffly, turning away and digging into his pocket to retrieve a clearly broken phone. “You’ve done enough.”
Stiles, not quite knowing what to do and acting out of instinct, dug his own phone out of his pocket and held it out. “You can use mine if you need.”
It was as soaking wet as the rest of the things he’d been carrying with him, the screen covered in new spiderweb cracks. Stiles’ cheeks heated in embarrassment and he dropped his gaze, his hand lowering. Then something amazing happened.
The stranger started laughing.
Stiles joined in and eventually, the two of them were hunched over, clutching onto each other’s shoulders for support as each laugh dragging air from their lungs. Suddenly the trip to the park didn’t seem so bad.
Swiss: I have a plan
Mountain: What’s the plan
Swiss: The plan is you come up with a plan because I don’t have one
￼I recently got a iPad Pro, so I got Procreate to do my art. This is the first drawing I made with Procreate and ￼I honestly think the drawing looks cleaner.
(Elijah Mikaelson & My OC Eternity)
Patton: I don’t know.. something just feels off.. maybe it’s just me.
Patton: It just doesn’t feel like home.
by skylightgalaxy (47k, complete, 4/4, E)
tags: alternate universe // non traditional abo dynamics // alpha namjoon // omega jungkook // strangers to lovers // cabin fic // snowed in // getting to know each other // scenting // scent marking // nesting // mating cycles/in heat // self lubrication // knotting // but it’s all very soft // self discovery // self acceptance // pack dynamics
Jeongguk’s winter getaway takes a sudden turn into new territory when he meets an alpha on the train — the first alpha he’s ever met. Instead of the quiet and cozy art filled winter holiday he had planned, Jeongguk learns more about himself and a world he thought he could never be a part of.
by ashes_fall (13k, complete, 1/1, T)
tags: graphic depictions of violence // phantom of the opera au // shy jungkook // singer jungkook // phantom namjoon // tragic backstories // this relationship isn’t as unhealthy as the original // no toxic relationships in this household // protective namjoon // sad jungkook // depressed jungkook
“The Opera Ghost, right?” Jeongguk guessed. “Or whoever it has been leaving those letters on the Kim Brothers desks driving them mad. It’s been rather entertaining to watch them chase their tails trying to figure out what’s real and what isn’t.”
“And you do not run in fear of your life?” the ghost questioned.
“Dying, I would be open to that,” Jeongguk replied. “It’s something new and exciting. Death would mean an escape from this place.”
Jeongguk has lived a monotonous life hidden behind the curtains of Starlight Hall, a place where rumors run rampant and notes fall from the sky. But under layers of secrets, he finds the color he’s been searching for.
How are you all doing in quarantine right now?
Because COVID-19 is screwing us all over.
Anyways, so I had this comic in the back of my pile of “need to do”, but thanks to the whole situation, I ended up changing the script halfway, and it resulted in this whole comic being…this mess.
This idea came about when the organic chemistry professor I had introduced himself, and one of the things he mentioned was that he “is not the devil incarnate”. He doesn’t bite off chicken heads or sacrifice small children.
For anonymity purposes, I am not going to tell you his name, but I will say that he is actually an okay professor and surprisingly has a sense of humor.
So disclaimer: Gakuen Babysitters © Hari Tokeino
And also, Do NOT read if you dislike:
-Gakuen Babysitters and all characters within
-Male x male pairing
-A small bit of implied gore (for self-indulgent purposes)
-Mention of Covid-19
If you are okay with this, or just don’t care about warnings, then go ahead and read. But also know that I did warn you.
And that is all.
Umm…yeah, if the quality of this comic is not that good, I’m sorry.
It’s just, this whole situation with COVID-19 has been not good for my mental health. And it sort of affects my work. .
But, I also feel like I have to finish this comic. So I did.
But if you guys still like it, thank you very much for reading.
you got me in love again
Din Djarin x OC
Warnings: Drinking, Mild violence, Pining
(I may have changed the story a little bit whoops)
Word Count: 4.1k
Summary: The annual Joust of Riverhearth and the virtues of patience that sets the chain of events waiting to unfold.
A/N: The first chapter!!!! There will be some dark elements and smut in future chapters and so far it’s just a roller coaster. Hope you all enjoy!
NONE OF THIS IS 100% ACCURATE AND IT IS MIXED
She could smell the blood.
It was coated all around her, in the small patch of meadow around the fields she grew up around. Ariana looked down and saw it was on her hands as well. The stickiness and heaviness of it was distinct, dripping slowly between the cracks of her fingers.
She heard her name being called but couldn’t decipher who it was. Everything was slow and sluggish as she started to turn around. But whatever or whomever it was, it was peace, it was home, it was –
Ariana awoke with a gasp, clutching her blanket. Her heart pounded heavily against her rib cage, mouth dry and temple pulsing. She frantically looked down at her hands, afraid to see them crimson.
Pale as the day she was born.