#humanoid figure
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gigivas · 5 months ago
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1K GIGI Prompts Collections 'Translucent Abstract: Vibrant Glass Humanoid' 5847 Free 10 pages out of 1000 pages
Get Free 10 pages MTMEVE00556G_107_0001 – 1K GIGI Prompts Collections – Translucent Abstract, Vibrant Glass Humanoid 5847 10PagesDownload 1K GIGI Prompts Collections ‘Translucent Abstract: Vibrant Glass Humanoid’ 5847 series provides two documents, one document is 10 pages of prompts in 1000 pages, available for free download. One document is the complete 1000 pages of prompts, this is a paid…
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pinkiepig · 10 months ago
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Non human characters am I right
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shortnotsweet · 3 months ago
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“She's resplendent, so confident […] I realize, I'm hypnotized […] I hear the moon singing a tune […] Is she divine, Is it the wine?”
— Vanessa Paradis, “La Seine”
Dipper hasn’t reached the point of buying gold—but. It takes four years for him to summon Bill Cipher. It’ll take three more for him to not hate himself for that decision, two more for Bill to actually be useful, and one more for Dipper to make a deal to end all deals. It’s sealed with a handshake.
Mabel & Pacifica in the same universe
Bill & Dipper in the same universe
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bacchuschucklefuck · 4 months ago
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species medley ft. gorgug and riz
#fantasy high#gorgug thistlespring#riz gukgak#cw: body horror#tbh mostly for the goblin shark jaws lmao. the rest is like. fine I think#ngl drawing like snouts on a humanoid face is kinda awesome I enjoy it#it is kinda a little bit what I aimed for with how I drew riz at first but I pulled back on it#the elephant remix for gorgug I think actually feels a bit more like orc rather than half-orc#maybe the tusks wouldn't get the same lip closure in half-orcs. tho tbh saying that sharing human and orc heritages would result in#consistent physical traits across the board is already kind of a reach I think. I imagine there would be a Lot of variations#and well. at least in spyre we don't see non-human mixed heritages so far... Ive been in my dunmeshi brain lmao#getting to see ryoko kui's art of mixed humans (dunmeshi in-universe term not irl term) is like coming home. thank u ma'am#anyways uhhh I think. I will have refs for every class swap bad kid (at least the full like per-season sets)#fig I'll post separately and then riz and gorgug I'll just include in like a masterpost kinda thing I think#u already know tf is up with them babey!!! just expressing those designs again for convenience#its been really fun figuring these designs out! and necessary if I wanna draw riz bc its literally impossible to doodle him on his own lmao#hes with his friends a lot actually. theyre literally in each others pockets the whole time#anyways! now I sleep. tomorrow? chillin. waiting to watch new nsbu with friend again. see u!
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faeriekit · 1 year ago
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Health and Hybrids 👽👻💚
[I can't remember the original prompt posters for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and whatever prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]
[Here's part one or whatever. If I feel like making more I'll make more and/or post it to ao333333.]
💚👻👽👻💚
The world is on fire, and Danny is burning.
The GAV is in shreds; wherever he’s crashed, there’s no way to determine up or down. He’s entombed in wreckage. Everything is on fire and everything burns, and it takes Danny all his strength to peel himself from where he’s contorted around the driver’s seat chair, to drag himself through the twisted metal and shards of glass with nothing but his hands and his tears.
He hurts.
It hurts so badly.
He crawls, because he can’t tell if he has legs or a tail right now, and is too afraid to find out he can’t walk by injuring one of his legs permanently. It’s hard to see through the smoke and the tears. He can’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe even if he wanted to.
There are instincts unique to being dead. Danny can’t tell up or down, and he can’t tell where he is or remember how he got here, but his core tugs him towards somewhere dark. Somewhere cool. Somewhere enclosed, even—even better, so Danny can curl up and sob in peace.
Danny wedges himself into a dark corner, curls himself up as much as he can, and lets himself drop into his core.
*
Something is touching him somethingistouchinghimsomethingistouchinghim—
Danny pops out of his core with a scream. No words. No coherency. Everything hurts, and all he can do is scream.
Someone is touching him. The thing touching him is body-shaped. Human-shaped. Danny screams higher, louder—some part of his hindbrain knows that if he screams for real then there won’t be a human but there will be guts and gore and blood, but Danny’s too tired to scream for real, and too weak. His scream is only enough to send the human sprawling back instead.
More humans take the place of the first. Danny keens, fights back a sob—when another tries to rouse him from his hiding spot with an exposed hand, Danny flashes his teeth.
The human flinches, but doesn’t go away.
Danny feigns a fanged bite. The figure jumps back. Good.
He’s too weak to run. He’s too weak to walk through the walls of his hiding spot and dart away. His visibility flickers—probably how a human found him in the first place. He’s so tired. Everything hurts. But if he looks dangerous and acts dangerous, maybe they’ll leave him alone. They have to leave him alone.
Please, please leave him alone.
They don’t.
There’s something in his face. Danny doesn’t recognize the shape immediately, but eventually something clicks: a loop on a stick is a catchpole. The strangers are trying to capture him.
He’s so afraid of something else around his neck. His whole body racks with shivers. He can’t run. He can’t bite. Please, please, please—
It doesn’t latch to his hand. It latches to his wrist.
Danny is only peripherally aware of being dragged onto his knees, of being dragged into a container. By the time the doors shut in around him, his mind is empty of anything that isn’t fear and pain, pain, pain.
He drops into his core.
*
Danny wakes up in a container.
It’s not the same container. But all containers are the same.
Danny screams. The soundwaves vibrate the glass until it shakes, slamming against the floor until cracks form in the concrete beneath him.
Still, no cracks form in the container. When he wails a second time, there’s no strength behind it. He just sobs.
He’s alone. He’s alone and he’s contained and no one is coming to get him. His transportation is in pieces. He’s injured and he’s scared. He’s so scared. Everything hurts. He wants to hide in his core and he wants to run away and he wants to slither through the wall and he doesn’t have the energy into any of it.
Danny curls up in a corner, hopes he’s left alone—or better, released—and hides.
He doesn’t know how much time passes before he hears a click.
…But he hears a click. Danny peeks open an eye.
There’s…food. He thinks it’s food, anyway. Oatmeal? It’s in a bowl and it’s beige and it’s on a tray on the ground.
Danny sniffs. …The last captors hadn’t offered him food. They hadn’t thought he’d had needs, or that they ought to feed him.
It’s a miserable, aching feeling when he thinks this is a step up.
There’s a flimsy plastic spoon on the tray. When Danny jumps on the bowl, devouring the contents as quickly as his body will let him, the spoon goes down the hatch with the gruel.
Danny falls back asleep in the far corner of the container miserable, cold, in pain, and injured. But he falls asleep full.
It’s a luxury to not be hungry.
*
There’s a click.
Danny ignores it. He’s not hungry. He’s sleepy. His body is trying to conserve calories and metabolize new ones. He doesn’t want to wake up.
The oatmeal goes uneaten.
*
There’s a click. Danny’s eyes crack open.
Apparently he’s been asleep for a while, because there are three bowls of uneaten oatmeal on the ground, waiting for him. All are in varying stages of crusting over.
Whatever. Free food. Danny wolfs it down anyway, and tucks himself back into his corner. He’s almost him-shaped again. His human traits are slowly returning, cell by cell, piece by piece. He can almost feel the fractures he knows he’ll have in his legs!
…Wait. Wasn’t his container opaque?
It’s…not anymore. The walls are clear. Danny can see—or, well, until he gets his eyes back, can sort of feel—the room around him, and the trace presences of the beings who occupy it.
It’s a lab. Danny knew it would be, but his core still drops down, down down. He had been praying he’d never see a live specimen lab ever again. He certainly hadn’t wanted to see yet another one from inside the cage.
Humans come and go from the lab. Most are in white coats and pants, but they’re not GIW. Or, well, they’re probably not GIW, anyway, considering that they’ve been feeding him. The guys in white never think of his needs, since they don’t care if he Ends or not. There are monitors that fuzz and warp in his not-vision with details he can’t make out on screen, but knows instinctively that the monitors pertain to him.
And to his capture.
There are some visitors in odd colored suits. They talk. The colorful ones don’t approach him, but they…watch.
No one approaches. Good. Danny will bite them if they do.
With the see-through window, Danny can see the bright-suited blob shove a tray of food through a slot in his container.
It doesn’t fall to the floor, though. There’s a little mechanical thing that brings the oatmeal and flimsy spoon to a safe rest on the steel floor.
…Alright. Bone appetite. Danny’s hungry, and food is food. He pours most of the bowl straight into his stretched mouth and scrapes the rest in with a spoon.
More of his wounds are sealing. Healing. His core doesn’t throb so horribly with pain. The cracks in his soul are smoothing out. With consistent food and rest, Danny will be able to actually mount an escape.
Good. Danny licks the flecks of meal from the edges of his mouth. Good.
When he naps, this time, it’s on purpose.
Soon he’ll be healed enough to leave.
*
The clear window doesn’t go away. Danny’s poor sight doesn’t improve, but he can see people come and go. Danny’s never truly left alone. There is always at least one brightly-colored human around (or one dark, silent human), and an assortment of white-coated scientists milling about.
The clear window lets them see him, presumably. If Danny wants to escape, he’ll have to be careful not to be seen.
Quietly, so quietly. Danny slo-o-o-owly amps up the resonance of his core.
There are cameras. There must be. There are always cameras. Disrupting the electrical flow in and around his container is essential to getting himself out of sight.
The lights flicker. The human milling about all flock to monitors, silent voices coming muffled through the see-though walls of the container. Danny reels in his resonance just a touch—whoops.
But no one is looking.
Something twinges in Danny. Well…no one is looking.
Very, very quietly, Danny peels a relatively safe amount of ectoplasm away from his core. A Danny-shaped shadow forms, and, yeesh, does he really look that bad?
Whatever. There’s no time.
Danny turns himself invisible. He slips through the walls of his container, and leaves the lab to explore the base.
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dailyfigures · 1 year ago
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Vash the Stampede ; Trigun ☆ Kotobukiya
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treahollow · 1 month ago
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I've had these rats far a week and I would die for them
(Dialog in alt text)
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pigswithwings · 1 month ago
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you should all read my friends awesome creation tetralogy not only because it has a character of mine in there but also because its cool and funny as shit. go in there the mspfa
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puppetmaster13u · 10 months ago
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Prompt 210
The battle had been long. Long and destructive, power rolling from both combatants as they launched at each other and tore through armor and flesh alike. 
Islands fell from the skies with every clash, swaths of utter annihilation following as they fought long after their armies had finished. Wings swept great gales of wind that shadows raced to block, fire meeting fire and claws meeting blade as two beasts brawled. 
Finess was no longer a thing needed- this was all about who could last longer now. One who fought for itself, for its legacy of tyranny, and another who fought together, as one. 
The battle was long, no one quite sure how long but enough to be called as such. It could have been hours, it could have been days, it could have even been centuries in this mauling of what was and what could be.  
And finally, the One-That-Was-Many rose victorious over the king before it, dead once more at its talons, wings spread to usher in a new era for the realms. 
Or at least, that was how the tale went, according to Marvel. Even he wasn’t sure what parts of it were true or simply legend, but it was an interesting story all the same. It kept the kids entertained at least, and caught the others attention so there was that.
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xaisee · 3 months ago
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robot pov: you're fucked
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Would ya' look a' dat! It's a Gabin! (have a gabin but without the orange robo stuff)
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tokenducks · 9 months ago
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They say there’s something living in the water under the lighthouse…
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Don’t worry she’s friendly… probably
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hamletthedane · 3 months ago
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Day 963 of night terrors: all efforts to seduce the sleep paralysis demon have failed. I will now attempt to engage in theological dialogue with him instead.
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reverseisekai-richie · 3 months ago
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So it only recently occurred to me that Wilbur Cross was probably a reference to Wilbur Whateley from The Dunwich Horror? So two new headcanons based on this revelation:
At one point P.E.I.P. thinks they’ve killed Wiley and when they try to autopsy his body it’s just the shock panel from Dissection Girl, with mangled chunks of human organs melting into crazy Lovecraftian bullshit, teeth and eyes sprouting out of random places and all sorts of tentacles. then he gets up and the real horror show starts
Dogs go absolutely berserk around him, unable to stand his unnatural presence and try their best to attack him. He has lost at least one fight with Miss Holloway because they get too close to a pack of dogs or timber wolves and he gets mauled.
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pichiicake · 6 months ago
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My OCs!
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theeio · 1 year ago
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cryptid hours
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juneaupaws · 5 months ago
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Four-Eyes
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