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// Sorry I should have published this sooner but I’m on a semi-hiatus at the moment while I finish a long overdue fanfiction.

I am more active on my instagram right now (same handle)

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Finding Nemo: A Dory Story

Disney Adventures, September 2003

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Going through some stuff ™ irl so it’s time for self-indulgent comfort character content with my favorite shark Bruce

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Finding Dory stole from us a potentially hilarious relationship between Marlin and Bruce (and Chum and Anchor).

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I animated something for an instagram reel— you can move the hand and pretend to ‘pet’ Bruce!

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I haven’t done one of these in a long time!

One of my favorite things to do is make fake screenshots by posing and drawing atop a Bruce model from Disney Magic Kingdoms. In some of my earlier works, I’ve put Bruce into Finding Dory and other settings.

Here is one of my many verses with Bruce, in his winged-Cetus form 🦈❤️

Background/setting (c) HTTYD / Dreamworks

Model (c) Gameloft SE

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Thank you to @macrolago for the adorable suggestion!

What’s funny is that this isn’t just Bruce, Anchor, and Chum who are cuddly sharks— shark species like nurse sharks and white-tip reef sharks sleep en-masse in piles! Scientists theorize that this behavior may be for both security and socialization, which is usual in many species!

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Aside from a few glitches, I’m slowly exploring Alight Motion, until I find a better animation program for the iPad that allows tweening. First idle animation… ever, actually 😆

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Do animals cuddle in the wild ?

(Totally not me wanting an excuse to see cute animals photos)

pretty much all animals with social or semi-social lifestyles cuddle at least occasionally in the wild for everything from protection to enhancing bonds and relieving stress! this includes everything from birds and mammals to some really unexpected animals like sharks.

touch is just a near-universal love language.

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Open starter (Olog-hai/Troll AU— general fantasy/the Witcher/Lord of the Rings / The Hobbit verse)

Despite his massive size, Bruce never felt claustrophobic when he traveled beneath the gaze and security of forests. The older trees stretched high above his head, and even the lower branches could be avoided with proper care. Under the shadow of the leaves, Bruce felt shielded and hidden from dangers that still threatened a four-and-a-half meter tall Troll. Safe, even.

At least, until the Troll noticed a pair of eyes staring back at him from the shadows beneath a mess of tangled roots. Bruce gave a short start, and a hitched breath before noticing that the pair of eyes weren’t moving towards him, but idled in the darkness underneath the hollow of the tree. After an inquisitive rumble from his throat and a cant of his massive head, Bruce offered a grin— unfortunately, however friendly he had hoped it appear, his smile flashed scores of pointed, razor-sharp teeth. Less friendly and more predatory than Bruce would have liked.

“Well, hello there, li’l bite! You stuck in there?” he bellowed, with a cheeky moniker. Only a playful nickname— since surely with how friendly he appeared, the stranger couldn’t assume that Bruce would actually want to eat them!

Unfortunately, during the span of time between noticing the ‘stuck’ stranger and attempting to ‘rescue’ them, Bruce failed to realize that the stranger had, perhaps, chosen their current spot as a means of hiding from the toothy behemoth. A clawed hand roughly half of the stranger’s size dug into the worn, flaky bark of the gnarled tree as Bruce attempted to dig them out of the roots’ grasp.

“Don’t ye worry, mate! I’ll get ye out in a jiffy.”

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I’m happy that the film adaption of the Lord of the Rings didn’t do the Scouring of the Shire, but if it did happen within Bruce’s verse… hoo boy.

He crossed Middle Earth to escape war and Mordor destroyed the very home and sanctuary he found.

Needless to say, the gloves are off and these poor Orcs are going to find out why Ologs are called ‘battle trolls’.

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// For those who have been going through the entirety of my art on this blog and mass-liking it— I appreciate it, I do!

But with tumblr, likes act as a bookmark. Nobody else sees them. They don’t boost a post. They don’t help the original poster. Unlike in instagram where likes actually push ‘content’ forward, likes on tumblr don’t push exposure. They sit in your likes box.

The recent reblog-likes ratios have been staggering and massively disheartening for artists (which is largely why I moved my art to instagram in the first place— a like is the most minimal amount of engagement but at least likes do something there).

If you really wanna help artists (especially growing artists) out, please opt to reblog instead of like. If you don’t wanna post all at once, throw it in the queue.

The artists of tumblr will appreciate you greatly.

- Margo

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Hopefully this project will be done soon so I can show you guys why I’m making all of these drawings 😅

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// I genuinely miss writing here more regularly— I’ve just been struggling to write any verses beyond my tolkien verse.

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“And I told you one day, you would see / that I’ll be back, I guarantee. / And that hell’s coming with me.”

During the Scouring of the Shire, Bruce faces down an old enemy.

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A younger / teenage Bruce, newly captured by Mordor Orc scouts.

Despite leaving from Mordor in his main story, Bruce originally hails from the wild Olog population in southern Greenwood / Mirkwood, hence his anatomical differences (habit of walking on all fours, sharper incisors, claws instead of nails, etc.).

He was captured at a young age, brought to Mordor, and forced into the fighting pits for food.

// Not sure how happy I am with this. Creative bump in the road tonight

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Bruce could feel the stares of several dozens of eyes on him as he weighed his options. Giving up Mambo was out of the question. Not even to save his own skin, Bruce couldn’t fathom leaving his friend to the unsavory fate that the strangers had in store for him.

The strangers outnumbered Bruce by a score or so; thereby fighting his way out was completely out of the question.

The last option: flee. The other trolls blocked all areas of exit which gave Bruce little options but to shove his way through the crowd to escape. But doing so left him with no hands free to hold on his friend, and all he needed was another troll to snatch Mambo from his back and seal his friend’s fate.

His mind racing, Bruce glanced down at the little feline in his claws. Think. Think! Just act on instinct!

Bruce popped Mambo into his mouth and shut his jaws.

Instinct BAD! Instinct very bad!

But there wasn’t much use to apologize in the moment, as all hell broke loose upon the trolls seeing Bruce ‘eat’ their one chance of entertainment in a long while. Hands free, Bruce lunged forward into a racing gait on all fours. He shoved the elder out of the way, ducking low and using the bulk of his shoulder to deliver a deafening blow to the elder’s chest.

Hands swiped against his head, and claws raked his back as he raced onward. A well-placed limb tripped the retreating troll and Bruce stumbled briefly. Despite his own heart hammering in his ears, Bruce could only imagine how much worse the situation was for his poor friend, trapped in a toothy cage. But it couldn’t be helped. Not until Bruce could leave the pursuing trolls far behind him.

Mambo yelped as he was shoved from Bruce’s back and over the Troll’s shoulder when one of the nastier trolls had shoved the former harshly, apples tumbling out of his hat and onto the lush green earth below. Fortunately for him, Bruce’s large, thing hand caught him mid-fall. He landed safely-though not exactly painlessly-onto it, hat clutched in his small purple hands which had dropped pathetically next to him.

'Kill him?’ The word from the much less friendly troll he caught before being flung off his friend’s back rang in Mambo’s thin, pointy ears. A jolt of terror shot through Mambo’s entire body from bones to fur. So much so it overshadowed any pain he felt from falling onto Bruce’s hand.

Though the terror still pierced at him from every possible angle, Bruce closing both his hands over him to hold him to his chest soon after his fall had offered him a bit of hope and comfort that he would be safe under his humungous friend’s protection. Though even with the olog’s firm hands huddling him towards his chest, he still found himself curled up into a fetal sitting position, pupils small and ears pressed against either side of his head in the same manner they always were when he was scared out of his wits.

'A little drama before mealtime’ was the second sentence uttered by the hungry pack leader that was enough to make Mambo tremble.

'Bruce.’ He squeaked. 'Please don’t let em chow down on me.’