#and the HEAD SHAPE DIFFERENCES

[hinamie]

playing around w slightly different hair renders

[mttonex]

DELTARUNE REDRAWS FROM THE NEW NEWSLETTER!!!!!!

(HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY UNDERTALE <3)

[ruporas]

comfort

[ID START: Illustration of Vash and Wolfwood from Trigun: Maximum. Wolfwood is holding Vash’s head to his chest, his right hand resting gently over his ears and his left hand againtst Vash’s nape. Wolfwood looks at him melancholically as he soothes him. Vash’s eyes are shut, small tears at the corner of his eyes, asleep, and his right hand is holding onto Wolfwood’s arm. Feathered and plant wings are growing out of him, enveloping the both of them like a cocoon, leaving enough space for their heads and arms. The feathered plant wings takes up most of the canvas, colored in dark and muted blues. END]

[calciumdreams]

by public demand, i present to you:

kisses!

[potato-lord-but-not]

u kinda have same face syndrome but like that one face is really hot and nicely drawn so it's not even susceptible to criticism

yeha I have like. 4 different types of faces I reuse and it’s coming back to bite me in the ass 😔🙏 at least they’re all hot tho

[gummi-ships]

Kingdom Hearts 0.2 Birth by Sleep - A Fragmentary Passage - The World Within

[virescent-v]

Love Languages

Summary: Love is a weird soup. Word count: 851 Warnings: None. It's fluff. :) *This also has absolutely nothing to do with the 'Lauren' arch. thanks to @mrs-prentiss for sending the gif that inspired this :)

You love spoiling your girlfriend. 

At work, she’s a total badass, analyzing psychopaths, chasing killers, and putting the bad guys behind bars. You’ve been in the office at Quantico and Emily is a completely different person there. She’s still funny, cracking a light joke here and there, bonding with her team, but there is an air of seriousness that clouds the demeanor you see at home. 

At home, Emily is soft. She wears comfortable fabrics that hang almost loosely off of her, her face is usually free of makeup, and the stoic lines on her face ease. She is more carefree, laughing at her own jokes as well as yours. 

She is also more touchy. Her hands find your body any chance they get. A hand at the small of your back when you’re both in the kitchen cooking dinner and she needs a way around you, a hand rubbing your foot as you both lay on the couch watching tv, playing with your hair any time you cuddle. 

Emily loves you fearlessly, endlessly, but quietly. 

You love her loudly. Constant gestures, words of affirmation, quality time. You are the embodiment of every love language, a way to combat the neglect and angst of Emily’s previous relationships, both platonically and romantically. 

You know a little of her past, her sharing bits and pieces as your relationship has progressed. You understand that those relationships, along with her job, have cracked and damaged parts of Emily that she shields from most of the world. So, you do everything you can to show her how much you love her. 

Thankful for the ‘sharing location’ feature on your phones, you can watch her as she approaches your house, giving you ample time to get things together. It’s been a few days since you’ve seen her, a case dragging her to the other side of the country. She gets home late into the evening, exhaustion rolling off of her. 

You meet her at the door, kissing her gently, before shooing her upstairs to shower the case off of her. 

Sometime later, she comes down in a cream colored sweater, her hair a little wavy. Emily can immediately tell you went to some lengths to make things relaxing for her. There’s a smell of some sort of red sauce pasta cooking, candles lit in the dining room. 

She comes over to you, wrapping her arms loosely around you as you stir the pasta on the stove. You feel her inhale deeply against your neck, breathing in not only the scent of your perfume, but also the smell of the food cooking before you. She pulls away, moving to grab glasses for wine, choosing a red she knows will go well with your pasta. 

She moves over to the table, settling in the seat and watching you. You move with ease, a comfortability that she’s never had in the kitchen. With her chin in her hand resting on the table, her mind wanders to all of the ways that you love her. Sometimes it overwhelms her, makes her feel as if she’s not enough, because she knows that she doesn’t express love in the same way, her past experiences making her more timid with her affection.

You remind her constantly that love can be shown in so many different ways; you don’t require grand gestures or expensive gifts or countless exclamations of love. You appreciate the quiet, subtle expressions of devotion: a good morning text, when she brings a little treat from the gas station on her way home, when she makes time to leave work on time to spend more time with you. 

Knowing her is loving her. 

Emily snaps back to reality as plates are put on the table, you smiling gently at her as you settle into the seat beside her. You rub her knee a few times before picking up your cutlery and digging into the meal. 

There are no words shared between you, a serene silence filling the space, each lost in your own thoughts. 

As the meal is finished, you clear the dishes away, shuffling back and forth to the kitchen. 

Tenderly, you walk over and grab her hand, dragging her up, making your way towards the living room with the intention of going upstairs to get some sleep…or do something else, awaiting to see what vibe meets you upstairs. 

Emily draws up short, her hand falling from yours. She waits until you turn around, confused. 

“I love you.” 

She’s said the words to you many times, but each feels like the first. You feel yourself blush, warming at the affection and attention her eyes are trying to portray. 

“I love you, Emily Elizabeth Prentiss.” You reach your hand back out. “Now come to bed with me,” you say, a devious look in your eyes, hinting at what more you expect to occur once you make your way upstairs. 

Emily’s face heats, her smile extending wide before she pulls her lip between her teeth. She looks back up at you, sheepish and coy, her hands on her hips. 

“I’d follow you anywhere.” 

[54625]

do not be afraid

[redux-iterum]

THESE GUYS ARE SO STINKIN' CUTE HOLY SHIT

The siblings ❤️ from @redux-iterum

Ashpaw and Aspenpaw are definitely twins. I also tried to make Cloudpaw fluffy but a more dense fluff rather than the long thunderclan fur

[zorionbbq]

oueghhhgh story with the eyebrows of all time

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

MDZS Disco Elysium AU part 2 - Psyche Skills

Part 1 - Part 3

[bweoo]

do you have any tips to avoid same face syndrome?

I don't feel like I'm the right right person to answer this... But I'd say just try to focus on making different eye shapes and noses? In my opinion I think the eye is the most important part of the character design so... Go crazy with the eyes lol

[canisalbus]

I’m sure you get this all the time but I really really love how you draw anthro dogs, especially the faces. You take all the soft parts and shapes that I love about a dog’s features and translate them beautifully, the features that I never really see in much anthro art! It’s adorable, it’s beautiful, it’s expressive, it’s powerful. I just can’t get enough. Awesome stuff you do

Aaa thank you so much! ;-;

[diejager]

OMG FINALLY!! *muach muach* oh my actually I'm a bit nervous and excited now lolol. Uhm—well since your request is open can I have Pyra head and Michael Myers (separately) chasing survivor!reader in trial but they just ignore the other survivors, solely chasing reader till the end of game. Something dark and lustful lingers around those two killers and you just don't know why! By the end of the game, the other survivors manage to escape to the campfire safely, however reader got stuck alone with the killer. When they finally catch you, oh shall you know all your hopes may shatter to pieces. You think this is the end, in the hands of ruthless killer chosen by Entity. But why their face (in pyra head's case it's his helmet) getting closer to your face and what make it's more confusing something comes out of that mask (i.e. a long tendril similar to tongue). Breath kink but instead of hand choking or strangulation, you choked on their tongue 👅

Feel free to ignore this if you still don't open req for dbd fandom

☀️

You are feeding me ambrosia with this sunnie!!! I have a weak spot for both of them, but-but- the Unknown??? Any thoughts????

Cw: DARKFIC?(it’s dbd, what do you expect??), DUB-CON/NON-CON, predator/prey, implied death, obsessive behaviour, choking?, super long tongue??, size kink/difference, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1.5k

You were… unlucky. The Entity seemed to rejoiced in your pain more than any other survivor, feeding on your dashed hope for an escape from the perpetual cycle death and sacrifice, the painful sting on being slashed, the horrifying fate of being killed by the killer’s weapon of choice or the terrifying agony of being hooked. It was a painful affair, being the subject of her perverse protection, locked away in her universe to feed and be fed, blood for blood —quid pro quo.

But at times, your moments in her dark world was warm and charming like the people who gathered at the campfire, sharing their skills and abilities to keep the others alive throughout the…trials. The small moments stolen within the fog to keep yourself up and going, and happy, little smiles and bubbly laughs. It made trials easier, to know that the people who were screaming and working had your back in and out of them, to know what they would do made working in teams better and reassuring. 

And yet- and yet it was all for nought, the killer had eyes for you only, stalking and following you with his arm raised despite the others coming between you two to stop him from maiming you. Unfortunately, The Shape - Micheal Myers - in all his ghostly glory and dirty suit, was a creature of obsession, of predatory possession that gave him a one track mind, tunnelling the person who he chose as his obsession; and you happened to be his choice of madness these last round, even when Laurie was with you. 

There were some pros and cons with his constant stalking, the quiet steps echoing not so far behind you while they worked on the generators, unbothered and safe fro Myers, but you were stuck kitting him, running away from him by jumping over windows and dropping palettes wherever you could stun him to give you just a few more seconds of distance. He grew so, so close on multiple occasions, you felt his breath and his dark and imposing figure behind you, but he never once struck you down with his big knife. 

It wasn’t so bad as long as he didn’t hit you, letting you run around and avoid the other three until they finished all five generators and opened the gates, the bell ringing loudly over your head, and even then, he ignored everyone for you. He, somehow, managed to corner you, to far from both gates and your teammates who you - in a desperate plea for a win - had yelled out to leave and let you find the hatch or run to a gate if things got didn’t worsen. Which had left you alone, ears ringing and head beating against your cage, cornered and afraid of the giant who stared you down with a red gleam in the dark pits of his eyes.

Every step he took backed you up further against the rugged wall of a house - his childhood home - and pressed himself against you, the rough texture of his suit irritating your skin as he dropped the knife to touch you, running over his course fingers down your shoulders. Myers was scarily touchy, pads digging into the fat of your hips, groaning and grunting as he ground against you, drinking in your whimpers and hisses, fists hitting his chest without any result. Was it so surprising? He was a monster, a devil’s spawn, who had you in hands, a uselessly struggling victim that was too weak to stop him. 

His game of cat and mouse came to an end, where you forgot what you were initially doing, choking around his thick fingers, the filthy taste hitting you harshly as his jabs. He pressed his fingers down the back of your throat, panting loudly at your gags and rutting his fattening cock on your navel. You shuddered at the feel of it, the thick bulge threatening to pop a button off his jumpsuit, and you feared, you were terrified at your wandering thoughts, the implication of it when faced with a beast like Myers. 

Ding

Then the final call rang, a long and echoing sound that called the end of the trial. It was quiet for a few seconds, and all you felt was pain, agony ripping through you as The Entity swallowed you up with her many arms. The last thing you saw was Myers bulge, pushed to your bloodied lips and filling your dying nose with a thick and heady musk, a metallic and dusty smell that would linger on your tongue. 

You had hoped that she would give you a second, let you bask in the worry and affection the other survivors gave you, her whispers summoning you elsewhere in a drowning cloud of black fog and sent into your next match, placed somewhere in Midwich Elementary School. The many winding halls and rusted metal worked to confuse the survivors and killers alike, leaving only a selected few who were familiar with this realm. You crossed path with James a few times, but you knew he wouldn’t have given an offering for this, it was a sore memory for him, a reminder of his sins and regrets. So that left a single open left: Pyramid Head, the wandering executioner in the halls of Midwich, sentient and brutal in his ways.

He was a monster everyone feared, something created from the mind of a tortured man rather than a human turned monster, he was born a nightmare and would perish as one. That’s why you hid whenever you heard the telltale sound of his rusted great sword drag across the floor, knowing he had chosen you as his obsession and was actively turning a blind eye to the other survivors. You heard a few screams here and there, but he hadn’t downed anyone, seemingly to prefer leaving them half dead and limping to the next generator or survivor to heal.

You were doing well, working with Jane on the third machine, smiling to each other and sending encouraging glances while you looked over your shoulders from time to time, but your luck had run out. Pyramid Head stumbled your way, his head bobbing over the thick cords of his shoulders and chest, sinewy muscles bulging with every move. You both ran, Jane up the stairs and you down the hall, and he followed you. It was a familiar feeling, being the chased obsession of a killer, singled out by him to be the victim of his choosing.

Unfortunately, The Executioner never truly relished in the hunt, prowling fast and hard, ready to kill whoever he crossed, yet, strangely, he hadn’t raised his great sword, chasing you down a hall and into a dead end. You were fucked. Oh so terribly fucked if your assumptions were right. You turned to face Pyramid Head, fearfully glaring at him, eyes scouring the open space around him for a small point to slip away. You felt your small star of hope extinguish when he suddenly appeared before you, moving faster than he usually would, blocking your way with his body. 

He was hard and warm under your palms, his laboured breathing resting on your shoulder in his dazed wandering, his ripped and bloody and filthy arms brushing against yours and feeling you up. You closed your eyes in terror, trying your best to snuff out your thoughts and the feeling of his touches, his fingers pinching and kneading the skin of your hips and thighs, slipping behind to occasionally feel your ass bend under his strong hands. You whimpered, raking your nails down his arms, trying and failing to stop him from going forward with his wants, turning your head away from him. 

It seemed like he didn’t like that, forcing a gasp out of you when a wet appendage lapped at your cheek, leaving a slimy trail of drool until you reacted to him, gaping and hissing at him; and he took your shock and disgust to his advantage, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You retched, throat closing around his tongue, thrusting slowly to the back of your throat and up to spread over your palate. He lathered your mouth in his drool, willing your smaller and less nimble tongue to push at him, choking down any cries or gags from the sheer disgust that filled your guts (despite the small spike of arousal in your guts). 

You wanted to scream about your situation, this fucked up situation you keep finding yourself with monsters like The Shape and The Executioner. Why you? Why you out of everyone else? You weren’t as significant or strong and determined as other survivors, so it confused and worried you, if they would force themselves onto you again and again until they either broke you or moved onto another poor survivor. But perhaps- just perhaps you could make something of it, seeing the thick pole that poked at your stomach, poking from under his loose loincloth and wetting it with a dark spot at the tip.

You loathed The Entity and her plans. 

[hakusins]

tw // scars, blood, bruises, piercings, cigarettes, a bit of ooc?

man, i love whitney

[cozylittleartblog]

so many people complimented rouxls' boots on the last deltarune post, i forgot i basically never post full body doodles so you've never been able to get a good look at him. so here he is ✨