simiamarinus
SimiaMarinus
Hi! I'm SimiaMarinus. The Untamed, Critical Role, TAZ, Good Omens, solarpunk, Lord of the Rings, plants, cool stories, architecture, clothing, music and whatever else catches my eye and tickles my fancy. My art is tagged 'simiastuff'.
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Last Seen Blogs
0dilevonrothbart
Odile Von Rothbart
creator-chaos
Hino Eiji Deserves Better
likeamotherfucknholenmyhead
Untitled
joeyyap
Joey Yap
onlinemusicguild-blog
The Online Music Guild
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via @r0ttkins I just want to say as a person who used to go on karate trainings for a bit of time I love the detail on Jinbe's knuckles as those two dark knuckles are the ones who hit first and are dominant. As we can notice Luffy has all knuckles darker since he hits with with all, what is a big difference between those two's fighting styles.
Mugiwara’s hand
Source and Artist from :https://twitter.com/sanjiluvbot
#One Piece#Monkey D Luffy#Roronoa Zoro#Nami#Usopp#Vinsmoke Sanji#Tony Tony Chopper#Nico Robin#Franky#Brook#Jinbei#@r0ttkins you are so right the level of detail is fucking next level#send help im dying
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“It’s the coward’s way out.”
“… Well, you know me!”
When you accidentally learn/unload too much about/onto your crewmate, but it all works out. Set between Water 7 and Thriller Bark.
#One Piece#Roronoa Zoro#Usopp#Every talks about how hard it is to be a captain#sometimes it's just as hard to be a first mate#gah my heart
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morning dream 🌿
#One Piece#Roronoa Zoro#Tony Tony Chopper#I LOVE THIS#Love the protective big brother/worried little brother dynamic they have
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OPLA has been out for a week and I'm already praying for a season 2 I WANT TO SEE ALABASTA LIVE ACTION PLS
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Luffy expression studies~ 👒🍖
He’s expressions are so goofy I hope I did them well
#One Piece#Monkey D Luffy#Vinsmoke Sanji#holy shit I LOVE this style#I need Zoro next (♡⌂♡)#I'd watch a whole movie in this art style <3 <3 <3
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killer wants to be cute too but noooo kidd has to be TALL and STUPID 🙄
#One Piece#Roronoa Zoro#Monkey D Luffy#Trafalgar D Water Law#Bepo#Eustass Kid#Killer#TOO CUTE#Love Zoro's smug face
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fellas....
(i’m late for pride month but this is for me anyways. hi. 😀)
#One piece#Franky#Ussop#Jinbei#Roronoa Zoro#Vinsmoke Sanji#I am looking respectfully#dear god have mercy op
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treasure hunt
#One Piece#this is gorgeous#send help I've had a One-Piece relapse#and I'm about to make it everyone's problem#Monkey D Luffy#Roronoa Zoro#Nami
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Human: Deal.
Fey: Very well. When you return home tonight, your mother will be in pristine health again. It will be like she never fell ill at all. Even the memory of her suffering will fade…
Human: Thank you so much. She means everything to me.
Fey: I know, I know. Let’s hope the price wasn’t too much for you after all… Only time will tell.
Human: So, when do we start?
Fey: …If I may ask you to elaborate?
Human: You said you wanted my firstborn.
Fey: Yes? And you agreed?
Human: Yeah, so, when do we start?
Fey:
Fey, blushing: Ah.
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Times are troubling and hard right now-but never forget, your Beet loving Grandmother loves you very very much and wants you to be safe.
And for you to eat your vegetables.
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Vizma Riorda, a priest devoted to Oghma, a god of knowledge and truth, meets a young thief who does not lie. 6k.
Art of Buran was a comission from the tremendously talented Marina, @ vermilion_shade on Twitter. They’re open for commissions right now!
The market in the centre of Merryweather was, as ever, bustling. Crowds milled about the stalls in the square, where travelling merchants had set up for the summer festival, and Vizma walked with her head high, her hands loosely gripping one another in front of her belly, neatly clasped in place.
The crowd parted slightly, for any priest, but especially for the High Priest of the Merryweather Oghmian Order, and she scanned the crowd as she came through, looking for traders selling books or scrolls, although most of them knew the area well enough to drop into the Temple of Oghma as they made their way onward.
The temple would usually pay a small stipend to any who brought new books through and allowed the temple to make a copy of the text for its own library, and there were few merchants who wouldn’t take advantage of the opportunity, but not every trader knew everything. Merryweather was just a dot on a trade route to many, and some merchants didn’t pay heed to the signs or leaflets the Oghmians set out.
It was not, in the end, a merchant that drew her attention.
It was a young boy, clad in blue travelling clothes and a cap, making his way through the crowd and examining people as they went by before his gaze settled on her. She could see the curiosity in his face, watching him as she did in the polished glass of the apothecary’s storefront, and she smiled slightly at the expression of concentrated focus he wore, his brows furrowing together.
It was good, to see a youth inquisitive.
She only glanced away for a moment, but the young man disappeared entirely from view, blending in with the crowd. It oughtn’t have been too difficult, with how little the young man was, scarcely coming up to the chest of most of the elves and humans passing him by in the crowd, and yet the speed with which he dissipated entirely from view was…
She wouldn’t have noticed it, she didn’t think, had she not noticed the young man in the crowd, had she not been more alert. Vizma felt the ever so slight difference in the movement behind her, felt the tug on the fabric of her skirts, and her hand whipped out to catch the young man by the skinny wrist, pulling it up hard.
It forced him up onto his tip-toes, his cap falling back, and he stared up at her face, his lips pressed loosely together, his eyes slightly wide. There were freckles scattered all over his face, dusting his cheeks, his jaw, his forehead, the most she’d ever seen on one person’s skin, and the colour of them was almost the same as the dun-brown of his flat, lifeless hair.
She arched an eyebrow, waiting for the young man to say something, to defend himself, but he remained silent, his expression unchanging.
“What are you doing, young man?” Vizma asked, not relaxing her grip on his wrist, but he wasn’t struggling, and nor was he looking wildly about the square for some way to escape, as most children in his position would be.
His brows knitted together, his mouth twisting somewhat. “Picking your pocket,” he said slowly, as though it were a stupid question. “Unsuccessfully.” He spoke Common naturally, his accent a little more northern than Merryweather, but it certainly wasn’t a city accent.
“You understand that most priests don’t carry that much money on them?”
The knitted brow knitted further. “I didn’t want money,” he said. “You have a book in your pocket. I wanted to see what it was.”
Keep reading
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susie grits her teeth and grinds her jaw and spends the entire spring of their fourth grade year plotting how to get back at calvin for stealing mr. bun and dropping him in a mud puddle.
(it involves putting hobbes into a dress and taking polaroids; she still has the photos, even thirty years later)
she does her homework. does his homework too, sometimes, because mrs. wormwood gives them different math problems to discourage cheating, and susie likes math. his mom finds out when they’re in sixth grade, and offers her four times the going rate to tutor calvin in math. she agrees, because even at twelve she knows college isn’t cheap (not the ones she’s eyeing, anyway).
she has to learn quickly about superheroes and dinosaurs and aliens, because calvin won’t listen unless there’s at least one. she has her own opinions of aliens (real, but not the tentacled fanged monsters calvin draws in the margins; her aliens are gorgeously strange monsters, elegant, like a degas painting reflected in rainy puddles, glittering in distorted neon), and dinosaurs are cool, but they’re a boring sort of cool, not black hole kind of cool, so it’s only superheroes she lets him go on about.
this turns out to be a mistake. though he draws aliens and ray guns and flying saucers on the back sides of his homework, he has a whole thing built up around stupendous man. she’s seen the costume, but didn’t know there was lore. she doesn’t want to know the lore.
it’s stupid. no one can just fly. that’s not how the world works. capes are dumb. she can’t believe his mom made him another costume after he hit a growth spurt.
she still tutors him, but they drift apart in high school. calvin and moe somehow become friends, become even bigger assholes together, and susie discovers calculus and girls. she gets into harvard and yale and stanford and others, chooses to go to california. he waves at her from his driveway while she drives away in the moving truck.
“you were never stupid,” she tells him on the phone when they’ve drifted back into each other’s lives her senior year. “you just didn’t care.”
“yeah,” he laughs, and she pretends she can’t hear the desperation in it; his girlfriend kicked him out, he lost his job, and he’s now in the unfortunate position of acknowledging that his father was right and education was important. she has two finals to study for, the nasa interview next week, and a grant application to finish, but he’s had a rough week. she can take an hour to listen.
“the community college isn’t bad,” she suggests, though she knows it sounds patronizing coming from someone set to graduate stanford with honors.
“you mean i can’t just put on my stupendous man costume and live off the media attention?”
susie snorts. “not spaceman spiff? there’s a tv show there, i’m sure.” she’s been watching a lot of star trek in what little spare time she has.
“nah,” he says, “spiff’s always been your territory.”
they drift apart again, she goes to houston and he goes to art school. she loses track of him entirely right around curiosity’s landing. she skips their twenty-year reunion; she’s in the middle of a move down to chile for a three-year stint at atacama.
a package arrives the middle of her second year in the desert.
it’s a comic book. spaceman spiff, volume one. hardcover, full color. one of his signature tentacled fanged aliens takes up most of the entire cover, while a small astronaut with a ray gun hides behind a rock. he’s gotten much better, but it’s still unmistakably calvin’s art.
except - she squints at the astronaut. she flips open the book, thumbs through a few pages.
spiff isn’t the calvin-insert she remembers from their youth.
it’s her.
mousy brown hair, button nose, mr. bun tucked away in the back of her rocket ship.
she flips back to the first page.
thanks for not giving up on me. - c
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Loyalty that surpasses the stars.
I have a lot of feelings about space and Laika
Patreon
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