#he also needs cats

[rink3]

Sebastian chilling on the surface bc he deserves it

[gongyussy]

"we know how to move our bodies, but i didn't know how to manage my heart, so you need help for this"

hi we need to talk more about judo gold medallist christa deguchi.

[rocketrrush]

TOO FAST 4 YOU

[lazylittledragon]

nomad boyfriend comes back for a visit

obviously there are some extras for the patr0ns <3

[heartorbit]

happy halloween! 🎃🐈‍⬛👻🐇

[dreamsy990]

drew some of my fav ody designs! wasnt originally meant to be also replicating the styles but thats sort of just how my brain works. except i didnt copy the lineart styles of anyone here so its DEFINITELY a bit uncanny for a couple of these (LOOKING AT YOU QINNY IM SO SORRY) but whatever

the designs featured here (from left to right) belong to: me, @gigizetz, @neal-illustrator, @irunaki, @bigidiotenergytm, @qinnyanimation, and @foopsie-daisy

[clouvu]

Cooking up an older Clervie outfit design so I don't have to keep drawing her looking like her child self but Long

[chocolatepyrusart]

I decided to give Stolas my cat, so meet Shadow, the void cat!

[wolfram-but-art]

some recent sketches i did without context

[lologoinsolo]

Part 6, Part 7

Cats and Their Men Masterlist

“ACHOO!”

You sneeze hard enough your ears ring. Sinuses have been acting up ever since the weather went from cold to hot in a matter of days. It’s been muggy and warm and bending over the grooming tubs is not helping that headache of yours. You’d call out if you didn’t need the money. You sneeze one more time, the husky in the tub tilts its wet head and then flicks off the water.

“Aw, Princess, no!” Covering your face from the splatter of water, your smock soaked with wet hair now. Princess barks happily and wags her tail. Sighing loudly before drying her off as best as you can with a towel to let her sit in the kennel’s blow dryer for a bit. You take a seat near one of the grooming tables, rubbing your temples of the ever increasing headache you’ve got. Getting sick does you no favors and when you get sick, you get sick badly.

“Hey, girlie,” one of the other bathers come around. She pats at your back, “you doing okay?” Marlisa’s, a short woman of Mexican heritage with long, black hair, she’s older than you by ten yours but runs absolute circles around you. You wish you had her energy right now. “You look tired,” before you can make mention of a headache she places a hand over your forehead, “and warm too.”

“That’s new,” pulling back, you touch your own face, patting away at your cheeks and you do feel warm. “I’m,” covering your nose as you sneeze into your elbow, “I’m fine.”

“Nah,” she snorts, grabs a grooming lead and gets Princess out of the kennel. The husky prances along and you stand up, “come on,” Marlisa motions for you, “I’ll help dry her up and then you can get a break. You’ve got another one right?” You nod as you go the drying station. Princess jumps up immediately on the table and you clasp the grooming helper around her neck like a collar so she won’t jump when the blow dryer turns on.

Your next dog is a chihuahua and maybe you can ask a manager to go home, your roommate came home sick two days ago. You blamed the weather then and you’re blaming the weather now. “You don’t have to help, Mars.” Turning on the dryer and you get to blowing the tufts of wet fur. She decidingly ignores you and turns on another blow dryer. Princess gets blow dried, brushed out, and finished being groomed in record timing since two bathers are working on her.

You’re feeling hotter and hotter by the time she’s all ready to go home. Just as your chihuahua is coming around, Marlisa is already asking if she can do the dog for you. Normally you’d tough it out but your eyes feel like it’s burning and watery, and you feel sicker than this morning. Jess isn’t here so you had to speak to the next manager at the store, thankfully they saw your sorry state and allowed you to leave.

By the time you clocked out, chucked your smock off and started walking out the door, a familiar man with a beard comes a walking into the store.

“Miss?” He calls to you this time, granted your ears feel like it’s stuffed with cotton and he has to walk right up to you to gain your attention. “Hey?” His hand on your back when you sway, “you okay?” Those blue eyes of his deepen with worry when he then places his other hand on your forehead. “Burning up, sweetheart.”

Smacking at his hand on your face, you groan. Why is everyone touching your forehead? “M’fine,” standing a little straighter to prove it to yourself as well, “just tired is all.”

“Looks like you’re more than that.”

Your lips pull to a pout, you can’t find it in you to say something witty or tell him to talk to someone else. He’s probably needing help with his cat and you’d jump at the chance to help but… your head hurts and feels heavy enough to mimic a bowling ball. “I can’t help you today, John.” There’s a twinkle in his eyes when you remember his name. “I’m sorry,” his hand stills on your back. Not able to push that one away when he guides you out the door.

“Need a ride home?” He offers, subtly adding after, “I’m sure one of your friends can drive your car for you later to your place.” You lean against him, nearly tripping over your feet had he not stayed firm beside you. His hand settling more on your waist to give support, “best get you home, yeah?” He doesn’t give you a chance to protest as he steers you to his car. Plopping you in and asks for directions, you mumble as you give them. Typing them in his maps despite there already being a star next to it.

You’re in and out of it by the time he gets you home, any other time and you’d be screaming at yourself for getting into his car or even letting him know your address. In your delirium state you manage to text your roommates to let them know you're heading home with a guy. One of them is bound to be home, probably the one that may or may not have gotten you sick. And you don’t want them to panic when they see him. You pocket your phone and close your eyes for a second.

“Up you get,” hands are under your armpits and it takes a while for you to realize he’s already parked, opened your door, undid your seatbelt, and is helping you stand. “I’ll make you some soup,” you hear him say, you merely nod your head against his shoulder. His arm anchored around your waist as you wobble like you were drunk. He’s so sturdy against you, doesn’t even blink when he does most of the lifting as he helps you to your door.

You’re pulling out your keys and twisting it in when he’s helping you through the walkway of the unlocked door. No one’s in the living room and it’s a small mercy that you don’t have to deal with any unwanted questions. You just want to sleep and maybe down enough Tylenol to kill a horse. You don’t bother to change out of your work clothes and he doesn’t press on it as pulls the covers over you. His thumb brushes away at the strand on your hair, he murmurs something you can’t quite catch. You’re dozing off by the time he comes back with water and some pills, he leaves them on the counter and takes a keen look around.

He takes a pen and rips a piece of paper from your notebook by the time you’re snoring. He’d rather ask for your number but this is the next best thing. Scribbling his number alongside his name, he takes mental note of the inner workings of your apartment. Noticing the back door, the amount of windows, and counting the shoes on the shoe rack by the door. Just as he’s finished putting it all in his head, “evening,” he nods when one of your roommates gives a weak, unsure hello to him. He didn’t think they’d come out but it’s good that they did. “I’ll come by with soup and food for her,” stepping towards the door, “make sure she eats it.” He orders, leaving no room for an argument either.

“And you are?” A woman pointedly asks, probably the one that got you sick since she herself sniffles.

He turns to her, “John,” making it short and to the point when she gives him a look. He shuts the front door behind him before she can ask more questions. Taking a quick look around the apartment complex and his brows furrow. It’s not up to his standard, that’s for sure. The gate to the entrance is wide open, anyone can walk or drive through. The bus stop you take doesn’t put you directly in front of the apartment building either. You’d still have to walk a good 10-15 minutes to get to your door. And god only knows what could have happened if he didn’t take you home today.

He’ll need to check the surrounding areas and run a background check on your roommates as well. John’s glad you were sick enough to let him take you home, he would have rather a different reason for you to do that. Maybe somewhere along the lines of a nice dinner, expensive champagne bottles, and a pretty rose bouquet meant for just you but this will have to do. For now at least.

He sneezes softly, “son of a bitch,” pinching his nose in annoyance. He’ll need to make two soups, he gets a text that pings on his phone, he gives a quick read and sighs.

Three soups…

[jeffdakillax3]

whimsy 007n7 and c00lkidd scribbles bc theyre my faves ever they hsould be happy (first one was drawn on my phone)

[tubbytarchia]

wtf get these two losers off my dash

[just-null]

Yknow that pic where that drunk lady kissed lipstick marks all over her cat? All I can imagine is doing this to the clones each time I get home

POINTS AT MY PET AU

[the pic in question!]

[cobaltfluff]

goro picks up a clingy nyakiren

[packet-of-staples]

Day 190 of drawing Papyrus until he cameos in deltarune. I fucking hate him, why is he like this. Ass in the air like he just dont care fr. I love his goofy ass so much I need to study him under a microscope.

[chiricat]

today’s mission: act like a real team for once

(aka tried to draw w2d1 twisters at the photo booth!!!)