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[guppy881]

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[guppy881]

made a gif a while ago explaining how i think marg’s hair moves

also i didn’t feel like animating the rest but here’s a short list of other ways it would move depending on her mood:

fire

tentacles

an explosion

swaying gently (even if a breeze isn’t present)

pinwheel

[guppy881]

More splatoon mythical creature au stuff ❤️💚

[guppy881]

i honestly think the "oc dont steal" brand of humor died as hard as it did because literally nothing will be as funny as Σario

[guppy881]

idkkkkkkk some fucking metal broad , named doris. theres 2 of her

[guppy881]

Ruben Bolling.

[guppy881]

Bothering the beast

[guppy881]

The Beast that Bothers

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they would

[guppy881]

i think it starts with an apocalypse. by sheer luck and circumstance, you survive. you seem to be the only one.

everything seems barren, eerily still, nothing but grass and trees and water. you survive, but there is nothing here. the only sign that anyone was ever here is pyramids of solid red brick, stacked up in a uniformly triangular shape. they don’t seem to do anything. you are alone.

your first night finds you tormented by the dead. they groan and creak and seem to be desperate to infect you. they are all dead by morning.

there’s only a few resilient species that seem to have survived along with you. they’re your only chance right now. the sheep provide companionship. you learn not to get attached to the pigs.

you build a home for yourself. it’s modest, nothing fancy, but it protects you from the elements. you still have hope. your footsteps echo through the empty house in the mornings. you are alone.

it takes years, but ever so slowly, the second hominid re-emerges. they build villages and farmland and are happy to barter with you. they have their own language. you seem to have forgotten yours.

you find the remains of wild animals you haven’t killed. you learn to be patient, and watchful, and you see the wolves that hunt in the forests. it takes a long time, but you gain the trust of one of them. she never leaves your side again.

you explore a little more. you find ancient temples in the deserts, booby trapped and filled with forgotten riches from millennia ago. you don’t know who built this. whoever it was disappeared a long time ago.

jungles flourish and bring with them tropical fruit and colourful birds and skittish cats that seem to love fish. you take home as many as will follow you. the world isn’t quite so quiet anymore.

the oceans come alive again. it’s no longer an empty, unforgiving void that you just so happen to be lucky enough to float on. schools of fish flicker away into vast kelp forests when you cast your lure into the water. the tropical shallows fill with a myriad of fish and coral in every colour you can think of. you find an old boat, much bigger than anything you could ever construct, laying dormant at the bottom of the sea. the writing on the maps you find there is familiar.

there is a temple in the middle of the ocean. you don’t know who built it, but it’s been reclaimed by the fish. you don’t dare go there anymore.

bees buzz softly through the air. you learn to keep them, and learn to harvest their honey, and your crops grow better than they ever have. your livestock keep you busy. your livestock keep you distracted.

even the lost dimension that connection to was severed so long ago returns to its former glory. you explore forests of mycelium and dunes of sticky sand and basalt spires and with them they bring the lost intelligent hominid. you learn quickly not to touch their temples, no matter how run down they seem to be. they are holy.

and even in the most hostile, barren places, deep underground, the place where only you seem to have ever been, life flourishes. glowing lichen lights your way and bears you fruit. massive caverns and underground freshwater pools are home to unique plants and unseen amphibians.

and even after so much growth, and so much recovery, you are still alone.

you search. you search for months that turn into years that turn into decades. what was once a humble homestead has grown into a fortress. you are safe there. you are alone. on every expedition, you leave markers and statues, anything to say i was here. i am alive. you set up beacons to signal to anyone who might be out there. no one ever responds. you are alone.

you follow forgotten maps to the ends of the earth to find anyone that might have survived alongside you. you cannot give up. you cannot be alone.

you experiment. you’ve found a way to cure infected villagers, to return them home, but have had no such luck with the remains of your own species. you think they’re your own species. they’re the closest thing to you that you’ve seen. you grow desperate.

the humanoids that walk freely between their realm and yours used to frighten you, but you’ve been alone for so long you find yourself talking back to them. you begin to hear greetings in the noises they make. you know they aren’t talking to you. you wish you could talk to them. you don’t try to make eye contact.

you follow every clue you find in forgotten ruins. they always lead to nowhere. you piece together portals to other worlds, and find nothing but hostile hellscapes and misery. you have travelled across the world. you’ve gone from blistering deserts and over unforgiving mountains and through freezing tundras and across oceans to find someone, anyone. there is never a new signal, a new clue. there is never anything to indicate that there are any survivors.

you are alone.

your bones creak. it’s been so long. you don’t want to die. you don’t want to take your species with you.

so what do you think, when you turn to see someone standing in a doorway in your fortress that you spent decades building? someone so unmistakably human, someone you’ve spent your entire life searching for to no avail, someone you’ve been constantly lying to yourself about, convincing yourself they were out there somewhere, all the while knowing they weren’t?

you don’t know if you’re hallucinating, if you’ve finally slipped into madness. if this is just a stroke of bizarre luck, that the other survivor has found you before you could find them. if this is another malevolent entity in a world full of strange magic and power, something that was once human, or is only somewhat, or is just appearing to be, and is simply better than the others at pretending.

only one way to find out.

[guppy881]

One thing most people don't realize about Gazebos is how bloodthirsty they used to be until the 1930s or so. It used to be that in order to appease your average small town gazebo you had to feed it 4-5 marching bands a year, or roughly 2 dozen barbershop groups. Noaways? Throw it a steely dan cover act every 6 months, maybe a bridal party every few years if you're actively trying to court its favor, and you're pretty much in the clear. And the crazy thing is nobody knows why they calmed down, or that their appetite for flesh won't return to its 19th century heights one day. It's actually an increasingly popular theory among modern Gazebo researchers that we're at the tail end of a period of dormancy and it's only a matter of time until they start howling for blood again. And if/when that does happen there's the question of whether our modern zeeb-keepers are really ready for the task of booking enough sacrificial acts to meet that increased demand. Guild policy has gotten lax in the century since the heyday of Dark Pavillionism and a lot of local keepers refuse to even look at newer research that threatened to upsettheir status quo. Kind of scary to think about

[guppy881]

people who don't follow chess I promise this post is really funny

[guppy881]

day 25 - my [tamagotchi]sona

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crying in the club rn

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me when disney cancelled woy, rendering me unable to see how hater grows as a character

[guppy881]

did a lil refresh of a couple of older characters

Marvin and Misery the misbegotten matchmakers might not have ever had their animation finished, but they do live in my head despite it.