#featuring - a random crate

[danger-bird]

I am rooting for the underdogs again.

Patience is a virtue, dear childern☝🏼

Kuras thought Ais wanted to read the shipment lists with him - turns out that's not what he's looking for. Birthday man wants a birthday kiss!

[froggibus]

Pankration - Wriothesley

Pairing: Wriothesley x gn! Reader

Genre: hurt/comfort

Word Count: 900

Summary: Wriothesley is not impressed after you get hurt fighting in the Pankration Ring

CW: injury, reader gets stabbed, fighting, pre established relationship, soft! Wriothesley, mostly just fluffy hurt/comfort, probably some spoilers for 4.1

hello it is 230am and I just did the 4.1 quests for like ~4hrs and now I have major brain rot for this man. something about him just makes my little frog brain go feral. i haven’t finished the quest yet so apologies if something isn’t correct or if I misspelled something also not taking reqs rn but if yall have some ideas for this man i think i could take them

————

The familiar sound of heavy boot steps echoes down the halls, reverberating into the infirmary. Sigewinne gives you a wide eyed look but the panic fails to register, drowned out by the pain.

You writhe on the bed, forcing yourself into a sitting position. Sigewinne stands at your side, fiddling with her fingers behind her back.

As soon as Wriothesley enters the room, you can see he’s disgruntled. Your boyfriend says nothing as he locks eyes with you, trodding towards the end of the bed.

“What happened?”

Sigewinne tries to pipe up first. “Y/n got injured fighting in the Pankration Ring.”

Wriothesley’s features soften for a moment as he looks at the Melusine. “Sigewinne, could you leave us for a moment?”

She bows her head and scurries out of the room, as if sensing the anger radiating off of him. You clench your jaw and try to keep your eyes on random objects in the room, avoiding his gaze.

“Y/n.”

You don’t look at him, staring at an empty crate in the corner of the room.

“Y/n,” his tone is harsh.

You take a deep breath and allow yourself to make eye contact. Dark blue eyes look at you, partially in concern and partially in frustration. You shrink beneath his gaze.

“What were you thinking?” He sighs in exasperation, “the ring is for fighters. It’s for people who need a little extra stimulation in their lives—it’s not for people like you.”

You nod along with his words, shoulders slumping. Your stomach still aches from where you were grazed earlier in the day, all of your muscles serving as a sore reminder to your bitter loss.

You had just wanted to try it, just one time. You were put against another amateur fighter and you thought the fight would be easy enough. You were on the verge of winning, too. Another minute or so and the fight would have been yours.

And then your opponent slashed at you with a piece of scrap metal they’d welded to a ring and your chances of winning dropped to 0.

“I would have won,” you mumble bitterly. “I would have won if he hadn’t cheated.”

Wri’s eyes widen. “Cheated how?”

From the way his eyes darken, you almost regret mentioning it. “No weapons, no serious injuries, no killing. Those are the rules.”

“Yes.” He agrees.

You lift up the hem of your shirt and reveal the gauze around your waist. “He—he brought some sort of shank into the ring, and just as I was about to win…”

You don’t need to finish speaking for him to get the picture. Wriothesley sucks in a breath, shutting his eyes to gain his composure. He looks almost scary right now, his blue eyes almost black.

His tone is gentler now. “Do you remember who it was?”

You shake your head, “no, but I’m sure the promoter does.”

He considers this for a moment before excusing himself out of the room. You let yourself slump down into the bed, the pain growing worse as the medication Sigewinne gave you wears off. A few tears threaten to spill and your poor attempts to hold them back do nothing.

Wriothesley returns a few minutes later, a somber look on his face. “He’ll be dealt with,” he assures you, and leaves it at that.

You nod, worried that if you try to speak, the tears will come pouring out. You bite your lip to keep them back.

Wri settles on the edge of the bed, resting a hand on your shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

“I-I—” You don’t manage to say anything before the tears burst out.

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his lap, holding you against his chest. “Oh, baby,” he murmurs, petting your head, “I’m so sorry.”

He keeps a secure grip on you, being extra careful not to apply too much pressure to where you were grazed. He rocks you in his arms in an attempt to soothe you, calming you down from your sudden outburst.

He keeps you in his lap even when Sigewinne comes back into the room. The nurse holds out a small white container for you to take.

“These will help with the pain, but you need to see me every day so I can change your bandages.”

You swallow and go to speak, but Wriothesley does it for you. “Thank you, Sigewinne. I’ll be taking y/n back with me now.”

The Melusine grants you a kind smile. “Feel better now.”

You swing your feet over the side of the bed and brace yourself to stand, but Wri has other plans for you. He scoops you up bridal style into his arms as if you weigh nothing.

“You—you don’t need to carry me.”

He scoffs, “and let you walk right now?”

You sigh. He has a point.

It’s not a long walk back to his office, but between the exhaustion of the day and the soothing feeling of his arms around you, you can’t help but drift off.

Wriothesley looks down at your sleeping form and smiles. He knew you wouldn’t be able to resist falling asleep if he carried you—he’s just glad that you didn’t notice it took twice as long to get back to his office as it normally does.

He lays you down in his bed and kisses your forehead. “Rest up, baby.”

[08melancholie]

8 Random Micah Bell HCs

A lot of these are connected to Baylock or Micah's family because I love the two of them (Micah and Baylock) way too much, and because Micah's family life is way too interesting to me to pass this opportunity up.

Used to baby-talk Baylock when he first got him as he grew up, however his father once caught him and he got reprimanded because it was 'un-masculine' and made him look 'weak'. Hasn't done it since then, however he does still talk normally to Baylock when he's sure he's alone and that nobody can catch him. Considers Baylock his best friend and, when talking to him, often gossips or complains about the others in camp. Micah's favourite way to blow off steam after someone pisses him off in the gang is ranting to Baylock as he tends to him.

Micah is very sentimental about his guns because they were passed down to him from his father. They are basically like a family heirloom of some sort in the Bell family, and that's why Micah was insisting on getting them back; getting them re-made wouldn't have been the same, and thats why he couldn't leave them in someone else's possession. He was afraid somebody like Norman wouldn't have taken care of it as well as Micah does, mostly. It being passed down to Micah by his father is the reason he's so excessively careful about them; cleaning them constantly, for example.

Micah hides the features he got from his father and tries to make the features from his mother stand out more. For example, his eyes are from his father—so he hides them under the brim of his hat. His hair colour is mostly from his mother—so he keeps it long and makes sure it's the first feature you notice. His father preferred being clean shaven or having a very simple stubble—so Micah grew a beard out and make it a style that would distract from the few features that are from his father, making himself unrecognisable when compared to his father.

Micah is always cold. That's mostly why he's wearing the leather coat all the time—ever in hot weather like in chapters Clemens Point and Shady Belle. I mean, the swamps may not look that hot, but I definitely think that, looking at what the others were wearing, it's pretty damn warm at least; so him wearing a leather coat on top of a, presumably long-sleeved undershirt AND a vest, the normal person would be sweating pretty hard. That's why I think he doesn't mind it, and enjoys it since he feels cold all the time. Would explain him not sweating all the time or complaining much during Colter. In fact, I don't remember him complaining about the cold once!

On topic of Baylock; Micah's had him since he's been very young. It was part of Micah's outlaw starter pack, given to him by Micah's dad. He got his own horse, satchel and holsters—and of course, he received his two Double Action revolvers as well.

Once when Micah was still just learning how to ride Baylock—when he was young, of course—he tried to get him to jump over a fence. At the time, Baylock was still only a pony, and of course—failed to jump over the fence. Ended up hurting his leg and Micah couldn't ride him for a while. As soon as it happened, Micah thought that Baylock was going to die and felt so bad he sobbed until he threw up. Didn't try making Baylock jump over basically anything taller than an inch for years because he kept thinking back on that scenario and didn't want it to happen again; safety first.

When he first sent a letter to his brother Amos, he actually had hopes that Amos would have even a little sympathy for him. However, when he got Amos' response letter, he had to re-read it multiple times and then left it on that crate where Strauss is to process it. He wished for a way to reconcile but knew Amos well enough to know his threats were not empty and that Amos would have no problem shooting Micah if he even tried to visit him at home; or even worse, Micah would have to fight back and shoot at his own brother to keep his head. However, 'defending' himself would just be proving his brother and everyone else right—that Micah was violent and not to be trusted around Amos' family, especially his nieces. Micah would have enjoyed having family and being called uncle a lot—main reason as to why he contacted Amos was to try and meet his kids.

It's canon that Micah was drunk during the final mission, 'American Venom', and that's the main reason he acted so odd—almost no reaction to being shot and betrayed by Dutch; that silly walk he did before falling to the ground, all of that. However, Micah knew John was coming, and the reason he got drunk was his fear of death. If Micah was sober, he knew he would have been too on-edge to even shoot his guns; stuck on thinking that he might actually die today. So once he knew John, Sadie and Charles were coming for him, he got overly-drunk so that he wouldn't feel a thing. It didn't exactly work, as Micah still felt every shot—both the one from Dutch and from John. He knew his end was coming, and he was too scared to go fully aware of his death.

Goofy silly guy I love thinking about youu </3 Should I make more of these? I'd love to hear what y'all think about my silly little headcanons and thoughts...

[in1-nutshell]

Hi! Can you do TF 'what if…' request? What if Ophelia and Ironhold live in TFA Silver Aid universe or having TFA versions of Ophelia & Ironhold?

Where Ophelia and Ironhold (and with Steve & Rumble who are in their Pre-relationships with the Buddies), are transport to TFA universe, and also Join the Decepticon. Years later, Silver became techno-organic & joins Decepticon, and she became friends (and later mother figure) with Ophelia and Ironhold

You can also add Ophelia's & Ironhold's (future) conjuxes

I did the intro to the Ophelia and Ironhold with Silver Aid.

Hope you enjoy!

TFA Version of Ophelia and Ironhold Featuring Silver Aid

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Hinted Romance, Cybertronian reader/ techno organic reader

TFA

Megatron met the two as sparklings.

It was a couple of months into the war’s ending when Megatron had helped Shockwave sneak into the city.

He wasn’t going to leave his only spy at the gates, the warlord went in and made sure the disguise worked.

Once Shockwave left, Megatron started his way back to the ship when he heard rustling over by some nearby crates.

He went towards the crates and peaked inside.

Inside were two sparklings.

The smaller one had place herself in front of the larger one, attempting to shield them from his gaze.

It was clear as day that the smaller one was trembling in front of his optics, but she refused to move.

The bigger sparkling was also shaking but held a glare on their face.

Megatron looked down at the crate and found something written on it with a city seal.

‘DEFECTIVE BOTS. REMOVE IMMEDEATLY.’

It left a bad taste in his mouth seeing the sparklings titled as ‘defective’.

He didn’t see anything wrong with them.

Who was given the right to already name these bots as ‘defective’?

Megatron returns to the ship with two crates in his servos.

Lugnut is by his side in an instant.

Lugnut: “Lord Megatron! You have returned!”

Megatron: “Hush. I finally got them to stop making so much noise.”

Blitzwing and Starscream come to his side.

Blitzwing grabs one of the crates filled to the brim with energon.

Starscream spots something moving in the other crate.

Starscream: “What in the name of Cybertron—”

The Seeker pauses when he sees 2 pairs of optics stare right at him.

Starscream: “Are-are those sparklings?!”

His screeching caused the bigger sparkling to start shaking.

The smaller one started frantically patting their servo.

Megatron: “Starscream keep your voice low!”

The smaller sparkling then started chirping rapidly as the bigger sparkling started shaking even worse.

The mechs tried to cover their audials when they both started shrieking.

Blitzwing: “This is worse than Starscream stubbing his pede!”

Starscream: “Shut them up!”

Lugnut: “Do not speak to the sparklings with that language!”

Megatron: “…”

It wasn’t everyday you’d see the great leader of the Decepticon armada trying to shush a trembling sparkling, while another one was hanging on for dear life on his helm plating.

Megatron insisted that the sparklings were only going to stay temporarily on the ship until they came to a more suitable place to leave them.

But one night turned into two, then three, then four, then five…

Blitzwing’s Random was playing with the smaller sparkling, making silly faces and smile widening more with the sounds of the sparklings laugh.

The bigger sparkling was sitting on the ground listening to Lugnut tell another victorious battle Megatron had led them.

Megatron was watching over them from afar.

Starscream huffed by his side.

Starscream: “I think Quaker would be a good name.”

Megatron looks at his Second in Command.

Megatron: “What?”

Starscream: “For the bigger sparkling, I mean. I was thinking Rattler for the little one.”

Megatron: “What are you blundering about?”

Starscream: “They need names Megatron, calling them ‘the bigger sparkling’ and ‘smaller one’ are not proper names.”

Megatron: “To give them names is to get attached. We are still dropping them off at the nearest—”

Starscream laughs humorlessly.

Starscream: “We have passed several places for the sparklings to be taken in. Each one you have made the same excuse of it not being good enough for them. So, my question Megatron, is who are you trying to fool?”

Megatron: “I am not fooling anyone Starscream and choose your next words wisely.”

Starscream: “You’ve become attached to them just like the rest of us. So, drop the act and admit it—”

The bigger sparkling squealed in delight at Lugnut’s theatrics.

Then the bigger sparkling turned to look at Megatron with the biggest grin on their face.

Bigger sparkling: “Megatron!”

All the adult Cons: “…”

It was safe to say that he was going to keep them, no one argued otherwise.

Shortly after that, Megatron arranged a naming ceremony for the sparklings.

Officially putting the pair into the Decepticon record as part of the cause.

The big sparkling was named Ironhold.

The smaller sparkling was named Ophelia.

There were many calls from other Decepticon’s wanting to see the new recruits.

Many of them were surprised to see the recruits being sparklings, but nonetheless, they were pleased to see the little ones.

As time went on the sparklings changed as well.

Ophelia was the first to start growing, stopping around the Con’s knees.

The Con’s figured that she was a minibot after a couple more days without any sign of growth.

Ophelia didn’t mind being small.

It meant her uncles and father could still carry her around without any strain.

Plus! She could get into places the others couldn’t get into.

Megatron looking around.

Lugnut with Ironhold in his servo.

Lugnut: “Lord Megatron, are you looking for something?”

Megatron: “Ophelia needs some repairs done but absolutely refuses to come out of hiding.”

Lugnut: “My Lord—”

Megatron: “We will talk about Ironhold’s repairs later. Ophelia! You can run but you can’t hide!”

Starscream and Blitzwing walk to Lugnut’s side.

They watch Megatron walking out of the room with Ophelia holding onto some of his back plating with a mischief smile on her face.

Ironhold looks at Starscream: “Why can’t I tell him?”

Starscream: “Because little one.”

Ironhold: “Because what?”

Starscream: “…If I give you a rust stick will you keep it quiet for a couple more minutes?”

Ironhold: “Deal!”

The others assumed that Ironhold was also going to be a minibot seeing as they had grown an inch.

They were even smaller than Ophelia!

Something the bot hated.

Mainly because Ophelia could run faster and farther than they could.

Even carry them farther!

That, however, changed when they did start growing.

And growing fast.

For the Cons, one day Ironhold was the same size as Ophelia, the next they had skyrocketed and now was about the same height as Megatron.

The Con’s are 99.99% sure that Ironhold came from Decepticon origin.

Ironhold: “Hey Lugnut watch this!”

Lugnut: “Ironhold what are you doing? Why are—BY LORD MEGATRON’S NAME!”

Blitzwing comes running with Ophelia dangling from his wing.

Both Con’s looked in slight disbelief at Ironhold proudly holding Lugnut above their helm with no sign of shaking.

Ophelia: “That’s amazing!”

Ironhold: “I know right!”

Blitzwing: “Ironhold put Lugnut down!”

Ironhold: “But I’m not even tired.”

Blitzwing: “Yes, but Lugnut looks like he is going to show you his energon he drank earlier.”

Lugnut: “I’m… fine…”

Ophelia didn’t care too much that her sibling grew over night.

She was still the older one of the two.

Ophelia was now often spotted perched on Ironhold’s shoulder or somewhere near Megatron.

Then came Silver Aid.

Ophelia was the first to greet the recruit with wide smiles.

The former Autobot was a bit put off by the sudden welcome but was happy at the same time.

Ironhold was a bit cautious around the new con, but seeing as Ophelia had taken such a quick liking to her, they decided to try and get to know the techno organic.

When the pair heard about what happened to Silver Aid, it was one of the rare times were Ironhold expressed rage outward to someone.

Ophelia offered all the help she could.

Soon Ophelia and Ironhold were given official positions.

Well, as ‘official’ as they could be with their numbers.

Ophelia ended up becoming Silver Aid’s assistant while Ironhold saw more field work.

Megatron wanted to keep them both in the base, but Ironhold quickly proved to be extremely useful on supply runs.

It was also around this time when the pair noticed Silver Aid and Megatron’s looks.

Megatron had certain looks that he gave to his fellow Cons.

The softer ones were always reserved for them.

But now he was giving a different kind of soft look at the new medical officer.

Ophelia perched on his shoulder.

They were both waiting for Ironhold to get out of the medbay after landing a sizable dent on their side.

Ophelia: “Silver Aid is nice.”

Megatron hums in agreement.

Ophelia: "She’s kind, compassionate, arguably the smart one…”

Megatron mumbles: “A pretty one.”

Ophelia looks at him: “A pretty what?”

Megatron has a slight moment of panic.

Megatron: “A pretty good medic. One of the best I have seen in a while.”

Ophelia: “Since when do you use the word ‘pretty’ like that?”

Megatron grumbles a bit.

Ophelia chuckles a bit patting his helm affectionately.

Ophelia: “… Just so you know, Ironhold and I are betting when you two get together.”

Megatron with wide and embarrassed optics: “Ophelia!”

Ophelia just laughs while hugging his helm.

Megatron grumbles a bit, while adjusting his daughter on his shoulder so she wouldn’t fall off.

Meanwhile…

Ironhold looks at Silver Aid.

Ironhold: “How long is it going to take for you to confess that you love Megatron?”

Silver Aid: “Ironhold!”

Ironhold: “I just want to know. I’m betting with Ophelia, and I want that can of wax.”

[transistor-rhythm-909]

Splatoon: Despair Decibel - Kick in da Game

Never underestimate the jester. You just might get your ass kicked.

A bit of a "first draft" for one of the intended scenes in Despair Decibel, featuring skint and one of the project's antagonists, Tetraodontiform- a pufferfish creature in the main big bad's service that presents himself as a priest, and who further manipulates those under The Hertz' influence with his insane holy ramblings to drive them into fanaticism. It was also a bit of a dry run of showing that though Skint is a very lighthearted character, he's a lot more competent and headstrong then some people give him credit for- and surprisingly (or maybe not so surprisingly) adept in a fight. He's still a corny motherfucker though, as some of the lines in here should indicate.

Named for Kick in da Game, by Masafumi Takada. Though the actual 'score' for the main action parts of this story + what inadvertantly inspired the entire scene, is DA PEOPLE by Hideki Naganuma.

***

As he skulked through the upper floors of Inkopolis Tower, the thing that disturbed Skint the most was how eerily pristine it was. The Plaza was ground zero for The Hertz, and though the area had since been secured, the scars of those early battles remained. And yet inside here... it was like nothing had happened. Everything was as it should be, barring the lack of people.

Made his frickin' skin layer crawl, for real.

Still, he had a job to do; Terracotta Canosa was sure those things The Dope One was using to bring all his cronies back from beyond the grave with- the 'Resurrection Dubplates', he thinks they called them?- were here, and they'd assured him his skills were necessary to retrieve them.

A polite way of saying “we need a thief”. He wasn't offended.

He had his doubts, though. He wasn't much of a military mind, but it would seem... extremely dumb to store something so important in somewhere so unsecure? It was all he could think as he poked into every office, dove into every filing cabinet; surely the big blue whale wasn't that stupid?

'No, but he would be that cocky'. That's what Lyre, the leader of the harpy group, had said when he raised that concern.

Skint could see the logic, he supposed. But it wasn't until walking into the restaurant in the main observation deck, and seeing a vinyl crate just plonked on a random table, that it really sunk in.

“Yeah... dude's MAD cocky.” Skint whispered to himself, as he approached the crate. It was sealed shut with what looked to be a rudimentary padlock- the kinda shit you use to lock up bikes.

Skint couldn't help but chuckle, pulling out the lock-picking gear he'd procured earlier. “Jeez... the cojones on this guy.”

It barely took any time fiddling with the tumblers to open the lock- seconds, if anything...

“I'd step away from that, if I were you.”

… but still long enough for someone to get the drop on him.

Skint sighed, turning around, keep his arms down and behind his back. He came face to face with that weird Pufferfish in the priestly garb, whom was currently aiming a very old looking pistol in his hand- it didn't seem to be ink based. He kinda looked a little worse for wear though- his other arm hung limply at his side, indicating it was broken, and he was covered in wounds.

Skint smirked. “Got a little roughed up did'ja, bro?”

A shot rang out, whizzing by his ear and making him flinch, but Skint kept smirking, even as the pufferfish growled.

“Back in my day, people who cracked wise at those who were armed died faster.” Tetraodontiform snarked, his lips curling into a snarl as his cheeks began to bulge. “Step away from the relics, please.”

Skint shuffled lazily to the side, sighing. “You really wanna do this, man? You can barely stand.”

Tetraodontiform smiled. “We've done our intel, Skint. You're unaffiliated with the NSS, you've no authentic combat training, your Turf War record is abysmal, you can barely handle arguments between your friends for goodness sake...” The pufferfish stalked closer, shortening the gap between them. “Even in my current condition, you're outmatched, my inky friend.”

Skint rolled his eyes. “I see why they called you up, then. Even a terminal fuckup like you can't screw this up.”

Tetraodontiform snarled, re-aligning the pistol with Skint's head. “You Inkfish simply don't know when to stop talking, do you?”

“Alright.” Skint said, reaching into his large backpack and quickly retrieving a standard black-and-white soccer ball, dropping it to the ground and placing his left foot atop it.

Tetraodontiform looked down in disbelief... before letting out an unruly laugh, dropping his aim and clutching his stomach. “What... is that your weapon?”

“Sure is.” Skint said, smiling brightly.

Tetraodontiform only laughed harder. “This is a farce! I cannot understand why The Dope One is so concerned with you, bumbling clown that you are. This is the best those ridiculous birds could do? This is their 'Champion'? Good grief, I fear I'll sooner die of hilarity at your incompetence than any threat you po-”

The pufferfish was cut off when the soccer ball struck him in the face very, very hard- with enough force to send him flying backwards and into some of the tables and chairs; it rebounded, cleanly, right back to Skint, trapping it with his other foot. “Looks like we 'Inkfish' ain't the only ones who can't help yappin', huh?”

Tetraodontiform recovered quick, but was clearly shaken as he tried to stand, staring back at Skint. “What in Gods name-”

The ball came flying towards him again, striking him in the stomach- hard- sending him back to the floor and knocking the wind out of him, causing his cheeks to involuntarily inflate; the ball, again, rebounded cleanly back to Skint's waiting foot.

“So you guys did your homework, huh?” Skint said, kicking the soccer ball upwards, starting to play a game of keepy-uppy as he spoke. “Cool. So you dudes know I'm a big Soccer guy then, right? 'Course you do! No big secret, 'course- I got more Cincelichthys Palace kit shirts then I've had hot meals, I do five-a-side with some folks every weekend, yadda yadda. Y'know, my parents- when they weren't trynna make me feel like shit- used to say I could go pro, if I wanted, that I got what it takes.”

Tetraodontiform, still panting, finally pulled himself to his feet, staring daggers at Skint. “Is there a point to this drivel, Inkling?”

“Point is, I done played a lot'a soccer. Watched a lot of it, too. I know all the tricks and skills like the back of my hand. But there's one thing in particular I learned that's prolly more important than any of that stuff.”

Tetraodontiform took aim, preparing to fire-

Only for Skint to head the ball as it came up, bouncing it off the floor and striking Tetraodontiform in the face as it bounded off the floor; the pufferfish stumbled as he let out a roar of pain, but remained standing, and Skint once more caught the ball on the rebound- subtly bouncing it off of his chest before catching it under one of his feet.

“Getting hit with the ball really friggin' hurts.”

Tetraodontiform let out a cry of fury, unleashing several shots in Skint's direction. Skint began dribbling with the ball, dodging the pufferfishes gunshots with ease and finesse fare beyond what was expected of him. Every now and then, Skint would get a shot of the ball off that either struck Tetraodontiform directly, or rebounded off of something first. It drove the pufferfish mad as he continued to miss every shot he took yet Skint always managed to land his, occasionally switching tactics to get in close and try to catch Skint with one of his lethal barbs, but the Inkling would just roll and use his backpack as a shield.

This dance went on for what felt like hours to the Pufferfish, each strike doing more and more damage as his already weakened body took a concerning amount of damage from the ball, his aim getting even less steady and accurate as pain and exhaustion seeped through every inch of his body.

Eventually, he collapsed to his knees, panting heavily, wounds reopened and oozing ancient blood, dropping the gun, back facing the large panelled windows. Skint just stared down at him from a small distance away, an uncharacteristically fierce look of contempt in his eyes.

“This is ridiculous..” Tetraodontiform groaned, gulping as he desperately tried to take in air. “You're a pacifist... a noncombatant... a practical jokester, a witless weakling, a good for nothing slacker, a NOBODY...!”

Skint frowned. “You really think I was gonna just roll over and let you and your boss do what they want to my home? My neighbours? Innocent people? Get real, dude. 'Sides, you think I'd still be here if I didn't know how and when to scrap? Face it, bud; you underestimated the jester, and now you're the fool.”

“This humiliation will not stand...” Tetraodontiform grunted, as he shakily rose to his feet, stumbling around in an almost drunken manner as he tried and failed to stay upright. “I am the holy envoy of the Dope One... I am the just right hand to the one true God of this world... I will be the one to bathe it in bright, undying light!!!”

“Yeah?” Skint scoffed, chuckling slightly. “Alright, holy dude, remind me; what did Satan say to Lucifer?”

Tetraodontiform looked at Skint with a bewildered expression, before screaming in fury, taking aim one last time and firing-

Which Skint dodged effortlessly, turning on the spot and catching the soccer ball with the sole of his foot; the ball bounced around the observation deck, off of several windows with frightening speed and ferocity, before it finally slammed directly into Tetraodontiform, with enough force to send him careening backwards into the window...

… and then through it, plummeting to the ground below.

“'Watch out; that fall's a doozy.” Skint quipped to himself, before quietly strolling over to the formerly sealed vinyl crate, carrying it underarm as he headed out of the observation deck.

[aestariiwilderness]

SPOILERS

Bad Batch Season 3 Episode 5(?) (I think?) Thoughts

Well, one big one:

HAHAHAhahahahaHHAHAHAHAHA

And the little ones:

I have been waiting for Omega to pull the age card since season 1 -- actually since before I really knew what the newest Star Wars Baby's name actually was. This was great and I want Hunter to realize it's coming for him next

I haven't stopped laughing about the "moment of silence for our fallen brother" since I saw it. Someone: *mentions Tech* Every single clone in the room: *pledge of Allegiance moment*

WHY IS CROSSHAIR STILL WEARING THE JACKET

WHY IS HE STILL WEARING THE JACKET ON A BEACH IN FULL SUNLIGHT

Crosshair is 100% the angsty sullen goth vampire hissing like he's been hit with holy water in Hawaiian environments with kind people chasing after him bearing fruit and love that I knew he would be

Crosshair: spends like two weeks on Pabu Crosshair: I can't take it anymore! UGH SUNLIGHT *drags the entire Batch to freaking Barton IV* ah, home sweet murder home. the last place I had a really good angst before my older sister found me and dragged me home by the ear. fond memories

Echo, you're a disgrace but also somehow still the only sane one here

Do datapads just not need to ever charge in Star Wars??

Omega: oh yah I have a sister did you know Echo: okay, we don't have time to unpack all that

Where is the heck is Phee? Is she just...off dismembering Cid or something?

Crosshair: "I know a place" Hunter: "YOU'RE NOT TELLING US EVERYTHING ABOUT IT" Crosshair: "I ALREADY KILLED EVERYTHING DANGEROUS HERE what do you WANT FROM ME" *Dune 2021 erupts from underneath the base* Crosshair: .... Crosshair: huh. guess Mayday forgot to mention that particular natural feature. My bad y'all

GUYS. WE NEVER TURN OFF THE MYSTERIOUS PERIMETER SENSORS. IDIOTS KNOW THIS. DID WE LEARN NOTHING FROM THE KRYKNA INCIDENTS I, II, and III

Crosshair looking at Batcher: ah, the new and improved Hunter. You're my favorite. We'll try to save you Hunter but if it gets too inconvenient I'll be over there taking a nap Hunter, standing right there: hey

Congratulations Batcher I guess you're his service animal now

Hunter: *sneaks up behind Crosshair stacking random regs' helmets one by one on a crate* Hunter: *considering Crosshair's past track record with regs, the Empire, and loyalty* so, like...did he kill these guys, or...? Hunter:...do I want to know? Hunter: *does a 180* NOPE

Hunter: "dID yOu tHiNK we wErE juST gOinG tO tAkE yOu bAcK witHoUT aSkIng aNy quEsTiONs???" Hunter, you beloved moron. You DID just take him back without asking any questions. To your super secret summer home no less. And let him spend two whole weeks chilling on a beach before it occurred to you to do anything other than stare at him with complete lack of subtlety from the top of a cliff

Why were you stalking him from the top of a cliff Hunter

Crosshair, he was silhouetted against the sun like 100 feet away with an almost seven foot dude right next to him. There was no hiding going on here. At all. Detecting him is not a super sniper skill. If you HADN'T seen that, we'd have a problem

Crosshair: hey yeah guys so this is clearly a Very Important Place to me that I will proceed to tell you Absolutely Nothing About. BTW don't land there Echo, there's a corpse in the middle of the landing pad somewhere. Possibly two if they never bothered picking up Nolan Echo:... Echo, 1000000% done with this Batch's drama: at least there's no blood this time

"I've made mistakes" AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA *smash cuts to using flamethrower on civilians* *shooting Wrecker* *"aim for the kid!"* *nearly dropping Tech off an ion engine* *trying to burn them all alive in an ion engine* *shooting at them* *kidnapping Hunter* *kidnapping all of them* *getting them trapped on Kamino while it SINKS* *shooting pretty much everybody at some point* *plan 88 but no context!* AHAHAHAHAHAHA this is my new favorite line. Hunter should get him a T-shirt that says that to replace that awful hip pocket thing

Wrecker getting genre-aware

Omega: "I told you to TALK to him not ARGUE with him" Crosshair, sulkily: "He STARTED IT" EDIT: 23. IF I SEE ONE MORE ICE VULTURE IN THIS HOUSE

[dragonmasterhiccup]

––––

"Fey, Fey, Fey! When can we go see the light fury again? Please, please, please, can we go today?" Ayla begged, desperately tugging on her sister's fur capelet with a pout.

The older Leif rolled her eyes at the younger girl's fanatics, firmly glancing towards her in order to make her keep silent. "No. Not today. I've already told you! Gosh, you've only seen the light fury once and you wanna do it for the second time..?!"

Ayla merely nodded.

Freya groaned quietly. "Ayla, can't you see that we have a bigger situation going on right now? There's these random group of traders that show up and--"

"But discovering a dragon like Toothless is a big situation!"

She sent a vague glare in her little sister's direction. "Ayla. Not now."

The girl in mention huffed angrily, grumpily folding her arms over her chest as she purposefully looked away. "You're mean."

Freya used every ounce of her strength not to smack Ayla's arm in retaliation, taking a deep breath in and releasing it with furrowed brows, ever so slightly pursing her lips. Both girls wore the same expression.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, the shield maiden scanned the view in front of her, standing a bit of a ways off from what was supposed to be the docks of New Berk. The half built wharf was crowded with Vikings and their newcomers, whose ship had been one of the largest she's ever come across.

"Why is it so big..? I thought they were just traders..?" Ayla muttered, a pout remaining present on her features. It wasn't even the afternoon yet, the sun barely having been raised a few hours ago to fully provide the natural lighting of the day. How they found out about New Berk? A lot of the Vikings weren't entirely sure.

But they did have loads of goods.

"I don't really know.." She mumbled in return, patiently waiting for her boyfriend to come back from his necessary inspection of everything in and on the ship. The men that arrived were an ample group, not lacking in number for their guild by any means. "From what I've heard, they're, uh…‘always travelling far and wide to all places of the archipelago to find more people to trade with..’"

"…Huh." Ayla sighed sharply, "Well, they must make a lot of money then…! Their ship is huge!" That in itself felt like an understatement, although it was entirely true; the thing was ginormous.

As soon as the Chief gave permission for Berk to start assisting the group unload the packages, Freya started walking towards him when he came to view, holding her capelet tighter around her arms, her little sister following. "Hey, everything okay? What's it like?" She paused, "..Are they..nice? They don't seem…hostile or tense..?"

She said, as if she wasn't tense.

The younger Leif, with her mind being distracted (and off of Svein for once), hastily said: "Can we please go see the light fury now? Everyone here is helping take the crates and stuff up the island…we can totally leave and--!"

"No! What is the matter with you?! I literally just told you no--"

"But you're not above the Chief! What if he says yes?"

Freya seethed. "What?"

Thankfully, their piddling argument was put to an end, leaving Ayla pouting again as her answer still came as a no. After their first encounter of stumbling upon the light fury, the couple had decided to let her tag alongside them when they tried to find the dragon. It was safe to say that she had gotten entranced by the beauty and elegance of the light fury. Something Toothless also seemed to be under…

The dragon would briefly visit Berk, hiding on the outskirts of their incomplete village and slowly but surely beginning to warm up to the three of them. On their second meeting, they found out she was a female, causing Freya to tease her boyfriend and Toothless about it. “The Night Fury has a crush too!” She'd say.

Before she could become anymore annoyed, Freya's eyes managed to spot a man approaching them from behind the Chief. "Uh, Hiccup..?" She motioned at the stranger, at least to her, and subconsciously pulled her sister closer to her side. His lengthy black hair was partly tied into a bun, paired by icy green eyes and a faint stubble across his chin and jawline. The way he carried himself, his confident strides, she knew he had to be the leader.

She ignored his taller height, unease filling her senses until he extended his hand at Hiccup. "Thank you, Chief, again. I can't tell you how grateful I am that you agreed to let us do this! I really appreciate it." He glanced at the woman and the younger girl behind Hiccup, a friendly smile taking over his face. "And who may this be?"

Something in her becoming a bit defensive, Freya stepped beside her boyfriend while making sure Ayla was still next to her. "I'm Freya, his partner. And…" She hesitated for a moment, "…This is a very good friend of ours." She patted the younger Leif's shoulder, tacitly letting her know not to say anything. "Who are you?"

The man looked to suppress a whimsical smirk, bowing politely as he kept eye contact. "Aesir. Aesir Erikson." Steadily rising, he continued, "I've already had the pleasure of greeting the Chief, but.." He paused, subtly scanning her over. "I'm glad to have met you as well."

She resisted the urge to grimace, the rest of his genial conversation with Hiccup going deaf to her ears. She felt…uncomfortable. When Aesir left, she released a breath she hadn't realized was stuck inside of her. "So…I'm guessing he's the, uh..leader? Or what?"

Her gaze flickered to the ship, squinting when she noticed two intimidatingly large dragons happily waiting by it. "Are those…Scauldrons..? Wow, they have dragons of their own too?"

Hiccup was a little uneasy about these traders, he wasn't sure why.

It could have something to do with Johann, and while that happened years ago, he still couldn't shake the shock of it off.

Putting his own personal feelings aside, he knew that if New Berk was to thrive, they'd need to start establishing a relationship with the local traders.

This group just happened to be the first to come by.

Since they carried goods the tribe needed, Hiccup decided to start working with them on a trial basis, see how things pan out.

Giving the order, their ships began to be unloaded, and he hoped his instinct was wrong this time.

"Hey," he greeted his girlfriend with a tight smile, "Uh, so far, they seem alright...but they don't have my trust just yet. Their goods seem to be of quality, and we need some of that, so..." Giving a small shrug, he rubbed the back of his head. "I don't know, I just have this feeling--" he was abruptly cut off by Ayla's excitement to see the Light Fury.

Putting his hands out to calm the two sisters, he did a double take at Ayla's comment. "Whoa, hold on! Ayla... I'm with Freya on this one. I need to stay here, keep an eye on things. Toothless and I are going to help haul the crates, too."

They couldn't rush into things with the Light Fury, she was wild and skittish. It took a long time for Toothless to be comfortable around Hiccup, so he expected the same with her.

He was pulled out of his thoughts as Freya called his attention to the man approaching.

Turning, he recognized the lead trader. Greeting him politely and shaking his hand, "I should be thanking you for bringing the supplies we need, despite us not having too much to trade just yet...but remember, this is on a trial basis..."

As Freya introduced herself and Ayla, Hiccup stayed by her side.

The way that Aesir looked at Freya ignited something in him, causing him to fix a glare at the man and step protectively in front of the Leif sisters.

"We should really stick to discussing business, Aesir."

After they'd finished speaking and the older man walked off, Hiccup felt his shoulders relax, not taking his eyes off the man until he was out of earshot. "Yeah. He's the leader...I don't know. There's something weird about that guy. Might just be me, but...we should keep an eye on him."

Nodding, he answered, "Yeah. Helps them get around faster. The Scauldrons don't appear to have any scars, or signs of being mistreated that I could catch from where I stood, but it's hard to tell from so far away."

Turning to the younger Leif, he said, "Maybe you should stick with your father, just until they leave..." Straightening up, he turned to Freya, "Once everything is done getting unloaded, will you come to the forge with me? There's a project I could use your input on." He also wanted to keep her nearby, it helped ease the odd feeling he had...

[moremysteriesthantragedies]

To Sully a Wedding Dress

Masterlist | Next

Trigger Warnings for unreality/dream logic, violent imagery, blood/gore, symbolism connecting to rape/physical abuse, twisted womanhood, and internalized guilt around sensuality.

When Florence opened his eyes, he was greeted by nothing but dark. All around there was just darkness, unable to see the walls of the room, making it look endless.

Florence could feel his own body, in a loose sense, shivering from the chill circulating the spot in which he was standing. There was an underground ambience, similar to that of a basement, rumbling in his ears, making the sound of his own breathing sound quiet in comparison. He could hear it become a fog in the air, arms squeezing tightly around himself. 

Except, until there was the sudden flickering of a light, hanging right above Florence. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the sudden shift, making everything a dizzying blur for a moment or two, maybe more. The light took a while to turn on fully, flicking with sparks, before finally lighting. It had a weak, fluorescent white glow. 

In an instant, the hum went silent, and the room returned to a normal temperature. Florence’s ears were filled with the sound of his own breathing, irregular, quiet. His arms, pale and begging for sun, slowly fell down to his sides as he looked around.

Looking around, the light had barely made a dent in the dark, simply adding a gentle, light gray glow to the area around it. Though, it had at least made Florence confident that nothing was in here, batting the oddly elegant chain it was hanging from so it would swing around. Florence followed its glow, seeing nothing but black with the hint of a few grey objects here and there. 

Am I in…a storage closet? Florence wondered, thinking that was the only explanation for the seemingly random and wide range of objects present. Dressers, a bedframe, crates, and a few objects hung up on the wall, such as a mask and hat that kept giving Florence the chills. 

Florence’s eyes stopped, slowly creeping back to that object he’d seen in the dark. The mask, as still as stone, a fedora hung just above, which Florence assumed had covered its eyes as it stared out at him with only its lips and a nose. Except, the fedora wasn’t pushed forward enough, indicating that perhaps it had been a mannequin instead. 

Florence took a step forward, feeling something tickle along his ankles as he did so. His shoes made an unfamiliar, sharp click along the nondescript floor. The figure became more clear to him the closer he came, having too much muscle and mass to be a mannequin, feeling as if they towered over him despite only being 5 inches taller.

In front of him stood a man, around 6 feet tall with combed back, dark hair, a sharp nose, and uncomfortably attractive, well-kept bowtie lips. He dressed professionally, matching his mostly unmoving features. Florence wasn’t even certain if he could see him, wasn’t certain if he was alive in any capacity. Florence’s calloused though delicate hands rose, reaching for the man’s shoulders before pulling them back. Band-aids were wrapped around a few of Florence’s fingers, though he couldn’t remember anything up until this point.

The life-like doll looked just like…wait, was it just Florence’s imagination or had his head just moved? It did it again!

The doll’s head had shifted slowly down, implying an eyeline Florence could not see, hat overshadowing the top of his face. Florence followed where his head had tilted, looking down at himself for the first time since he had awoken. 

He had been placed in a white dress, perfectly feminine and modest, with all those cute frills and accenting bows. It had three layers of frills, the top, the middle, and bottom, with ruffled sleeves going all the way across his elbows. The design was far too elaborate to just be a dress for a casual affair, skirt billowing around his legs, and… 

...why were there…

...accents of…

...red?

Following the crimson seeping through the unprotected fabric, he recognized the dress in an instant. The holes on its sides made it unmistakable, carrying the liquid to lower heights. His Mary Jane shoes served as their final resting place, and, he could feel long hair still pulled into a fresh bun. His stomach metaphorically ripped itself out before being replaced in a reverted state.

Florence started rushing back, flailing in circles as he screamed like a banshee. His fingernails scraped along the smooth fabric, attempting to rip it off, or just rip it in general. 

"No, no, no. Get it off. GET IT OFF ME! No!"

Florence kept repeating this over and over again, wrestling with a skirt that would not undo itself from the whole. It became redder and redder by the minute, waist twinging as more blood fell down his legs. It was a miracle he didn’t trip over himself from the ferocity of his actions, limbs going every which way.

Florence was so preoccupied with this that he didn’t notice when the “doll” stepped out of his display area, standing beneath the light that Florence had wandered from. 

"Florence," A familiar, authoritative voice called and Florence froze.

Florence’s grip remained on his dress, eyes widening at the once dead, now alive man standing just in front of him. 

Listening to it, the voice was more static filled, and he was much grayer looking than Florence had remembered. He remained still, not breathing and yet, the life was evident in his face.

Florence could feel his own breathing slow, pupils dilating. 

"Why don't you just relax? After all, there's nothing to be upset about, is there," the man asked, voice coming out like rain. 

His mouth moved to speak and yet the words felt disconnected from the motion. They were always too slow, or too loud to fit into those subtle movements. 

Florence had calmed down enough to remember where his pocket knife would be stored, grabbing it out from the strap of his stocking and pointing it toward the mysterious stranger.

"That remains to be seen. Just what exactly are you? I know you're not Max. You might look like him but he...he's not like this!" he said, causing the man to laugh.

Yet, his laughs were humorless, lips refusing to move more than what was required for a light smirk or a smile.

"I've never seen you this angry before. You don't sound very certain either."

The man began to walk over, the collar of his pea coat waving behind him and making him blend in with the murky scenery. 

Florence put his hand up, about to tell the man to stop but...wait, what was he going to say? It was on the tip of his tongue yet, no matter how hard he tried to find the words, his mouth wouldn’t budge, just gapping. The only thing that filled his head was static. Quiet, crackling, soothing.

The man approached Florence, taking Florence’s hand and giving it a tender kiss before kneeling down in front of him. He smiled up at Florence who was just stuck staring into that eyeless void.

Florence’s heart began to pound once more when the man casually lifted up his skirt. However, Florence soon realized why as the man examined the scratch marks on his sides. And, also, that he’d worn pants underneath, though the man had to lower them some to see.

“Let me help you, dear,” he said, and Florence’s breathing slowed even more, sniffling.

“Okay.”

His eyes widened, unsure where that response came from when his head felt so fuzzy. His confusion only increased when the man attended to his wounds. 

The man’s touch felt...like silk. Translucent, soft silk, blowing gently in the wind and causing his canvas of skin to be cooled. But it wasn't an unpleasant coldness, warming up from Florence's own, balmy skin that’d become heated in his panic. 

It was as if this man, this thing was truly nothing more than a suggestable piece of fabric. The cloth would wrap around your body, so easily and so harmlessly moving with your joints. An outfit couldn’t hurt, so why not try it on, letting it squeeze tighter, and tighter, and tighter until all circulation was cut off? But, it was so soft, so smooth, that the closeness would feel like a blessing in disguise.

Florence's body froze at the sudden visuals and thoughts, only now realizing they had overcome him. As his vision cleared, he looked back at the man with a flutter of anxiety rising in his chest. The man hadn’t done anything, having successfully cleaned up the blood, and finishing up by applying bandages onto the cleaned cuts. But still. 

As the sensations came back to Florence's body, he realized his hands had gripped onto the man's shoulders, quickly pulling away. This was an action he soon regretted as he realized the squeeze had helped with the pain.

The man’s face or, what Florence could see of it, hadn't reacted to the touch. Florence slowly returned his hands when it seemed the man wouldn't notice. The band-aids showed some resistance against his coat, though they remained in place.

"You're being so brave," the man mused, in spite of Florence's actions.

Yet, even so, Florence supposed he had no reason to worry. The man had not moved to hurt him in all this time, and Florence's wounds were about to be mended, doing his best to ignore the sting. If the man had really wanted to do something, he would have struck when Florence was at his most vulnerable, most likely not even letting Florence know of his presence beforehand. Unless…he was enough of a sadist to…no. 

He shouldn’t think about those things right now. He was being fixed, that’s all that mattered. He couldn’t let the pain drive him crazy, fighting back the urge to grab onto his sides at their constant,  sharp pang. 

He stuck his head up, putting on a brave face and, eventually, it worked.

Once the man was finished, he returned Florence’s skirt to its place around his ankles, doing so carefully to make sure no parts of it remained hitched. Once it was all comfortably draped down, bloodstain remaining and bright against the milky palette, the man pulled away with a smile.

"Does it...still hurt," he asked, not pausing out of hesitation but in an unnervingly relaxed manner.

His voice made Florence feel that fuzziness again. Or, had the blood just had more of an effect on him than he initially thought?

"A-a little."

Florence, now with all his senses soon returning, slowly processed what had just happened. Then, his eyes took in the figure, a shadow all along the top of his face, remaining as peaceful as a windless night. Florence stumbled back. The sound of his steps weren’t as sharp as they once were, soaked beneath him. 

"It's quite alright, dear. You don't have to be afraid. That dress can't hurt you. After all, it's such a comfortable, soft fabric. Is it not?"

Florence gripped onto his skirt, only to find that the fabric had somehow become less coarse underneath his fingers. His eyes narrowed in understanding, muscles tensing.

"S-stop that!" Florence said, continuing to step back and the man made no attempts to follow him.

He just stood there with that smile of his, hands folding behind his back.

“I am merely stating the truth. You feel safe in that dress. You’re so wrapped up in all of its comfortable coils, covering you entirely as if it were a blanket. It’s kept you safe all this time, it even went so far as to be injured for your sake. So, what reason do you have to fear it?”

The man hugged onto himself as if to mime the sensation, hands making a graceful arc as his fingers thinly slid along his sleeves. 

Florence slowly came to a halt, arms wrapping around himself, and fingers beginning to play with the sleeves of his dress. It felt as if it was hugging his body more in a sort of warm embrace. The man took a gradual step forward. 

“It's a shame, isn't it? To sully a wedding dress, especially on purpose. I wonder what that says about your marriage to such a person?”

A couple more steps. 

"Tell me, do you still dream of marriage, Florence? Of your special day, with someone sweet, perhaps? Or, do you only see wedding bells in your nightmares nowadays?"

And a few more.

"I don't know what you're saying," Florence said, tears beginning to prick at his eyes.

Another step and he was right in front of Florence, leaning in to stare into Florence’s face. His eyes remained unseen, but Florence could just feel it. God, he really looked so much like him, the man waiting for Florence to finish inspecting his features before speaking.

"Do you ever dream of marrying me?"

Florence’s cheeks became heated. 

"W-what," Florence stared at him before shaking his head, "Of course not! I mean Max is...he's sweet, and lovely, and I care about him a lot. But I'll never put myself through that again. I know better than that now."

Florence brushed at his tears and the man tilted his head.

"Hmmm, that doesn't sound right, does it? And that again is awfully vague," he said, tapping his chin teasingly, "In truth, you dream about me quite often. Almost every night, when you do dream, that is. We do many things together. Surely it wouldn’t be too far-fetched to propose that one of those things might be a marriage?”

Florence’s hands gripped harder onto his sleeves, falling silent. The man’s smile faintly opened, standing up straight. 

“It's only natural, we see each other every day. And yet, you hide from that, you deny your dreams. All those little desires so wonderfully gift packaged in bottle-sized snippets for you to enjoy."

He tilted his head, smile widening and hand gesturing towards Florence.

"Did you think it'd never catch up to you, dear?" 

In response, Florence had just stared. He’d woken up with a start shortly after.

[zeenmrala]

🖤🖤🖤

Mimi loves puffer pigs. She adores all animals, but the pigs have a special place in her heart due to the frequency of which they are kidnapped, abused and trafficked on the black market. Their treatment and value reminds her of her own experiences when she was a teenager and she resonates with them on a personal level.

She had six pigs at the peak of her fame, and the animals came to be associated with her - similar to how Paris Hilton became known with her chihuahuas.

The names of her puffer pigs were Lady, Tula, Coryo, Little Darth, Gossip and Manny. Lady was her first pig, rescued from a foundation on Lothal. She had a type of albinism that caused her skin to be a pale white colour and her eyes a vivid, bright pink, her colouring fitting Mimi's aesthetic and matching her own iconic skin. This led to Mimi being enamored of her, and she was even featured in some of Mimi's photoshoots and music holos.

Little Darth was given to her by Ventress, after the runt puffer-pig got stuck in a crate in the cargo of a transport the Sith acolyte acquired on a botched mission for the Separatists during The Clone Wars. Mimi was on board, having been caught up in the chaos - and she had a tantrum, refusing to leave the ship until Ventress allowed her to take the pig with them. Ventress' soft spot for the pop star allowed her to get away with such an immature display, but the ridiculousness of the entire situation wasn't lost on her.

oc ask game - send me a 🖤 and I'll answer a random fact about my OC ♡

[hectormcfilm]

The French Dispatch

This is the final film in my Wes Anderson binge for now, I still have three of his films to watch: Bottle Rocket, Moonrise Kingdom and Asteroid city. I enjoy that two of the films left are his debut and latest film and will definitely try watch them back to back when I can find either on anything. For now, The French Dispatch I am very mixed on, it is part of the same era and conversation as Asteroid City where it is actively debated if this film is too Wes Anderson for its own good and I see this arguement.

To start out with, for the most part I really enjoy the style of this film, similar to his recent short films certain moments show that the backgrounds are obviously sets which I love and obviously the overall use of colour and centre framing is as stellar as usual. The amazing colour work lends to one of my criticisms of the film however and that is the overuse of black and white, I definitely enjoyed it in the first of the three stories however in the second it felt inconsistent and almost at random and in the third it felt more stylistic without and real reason to be in black and white. Style and vibe for the sake of it. Some of the stylistic elements that really worked for me in this were: the animated section in an old 2d style was so much fun, I find Wes works best in animation truthfully, the technique of having people in vehicles without them actually driving, lovingly parodying old school Hollywood and theatre techniques, this is best exemplified with the scene of Timothe Chalamet on the motorbike which uses a wind machine and beautiful changing colours to crate such a neat atmosphere.

Out of the three different narratives in this film I definitely enjoyed Benicio Del Toro's and Chalamet's narrative way more then Jeffry Wrights, which I found quite silly and not as engaging as it lacked some of the personal more introspective aspects of the first two. The first two narratives are very engaging with some odd bits like Chalamet's relationship with Frances McDormand where I found the age gap very strange, similar to Rushmore. I also wasn't a huge fan of some of the connecting piece of narrative like the overall Bill Murray plotline or the cut aways to the art exhibit during the first narrative, I preferred just the short films themselves.

Overall I surprisingly don't have much to say about this film, I found it mostly entertaining but maybe too self-indulgent with a scattershot narrative. I may have watched too much Wes Anderson at once as seeing the same actors as the last three features films such as: Bill Murray, Owen Wilson and Adrian Brody made me groan.

HOWEVER. Now I am finished with my Wes binge I am starting a new binge- in lead up to the release of The Boy and The Heron on boxing day I am going to watch every Ghibli film.

[icarusthelunarguard]

 This Week’s Horrible-Scopes

It’s time for this week’s Horrible-Scopes! So for those of you that know your Astrological Signs, cool! If not, just pick one, roll a D12, or just make it up as you go along. It really doesn’t matter. Better yet! Check out “Heart of the Game, Fredonia” and see if they can sell you those D12’s with the symbols on them. Tell them “Shujin Tribble” sentcha. And “Hail, Hail, Fredonia!” Home of the Blue Devil!

Continuing the Spooky-Month theme, we’ve generated a random list of horror movie titles and are going to make up a new plotline for each one. If you already know these movies, just know that we’re not sorry in the least.

Aries 

In your movie titled, “Ginger Snaps”, you find yourself in the Upper West Side of Manhattan, NY in the mid-1950’s. Two groups of young men with slicked back hair are approaching you; They're all redheads. Suddenly music by Leonard Bernstein sings out of a window adorned with the Puerto Rican flag. Can you sing and dance your way out of this rumble in the concrete jungle?

Taurus 

The year is 1986 and you find yourself in a musical recording studio. You’re the engineer working on the album, “Fore!” by Huey Lewis and the News. The band members are in isolated rooms when an overhead waterline breaks, spilling over the high voltage circuits for the building. Can you escape without being electrocuted? Can you get the band out too? Find out at the end of the 93-minute feature, “Jacob's Ladder”!

Gemini  

Your movie is, basically, just… “Being John Malkovich”, but set in the early 80’s with a new musical soundtrack. Can you pilot a John Malkovich bio-mech suit while listening to Ska music in the musical-thriller feature release, “In the Mouth of Madness”. Let’s watch it at the drive in and find out.

Cancer Moon-Child 

You and your friends have driven out to an old wooden shack of a house in the middle of nowhere, Tennessee. The trees surrounding you whisper in the breeze. Dead leaves keep splattering against the door and windows. There’s an old, creepy book with a face on it and a trap door to the cellar, chained and padlocked shut. Suddenly everything goes quiet! Deep footsteps can be heard on the wooden porch just before a shotgun blast tears off the lock. As the door opens, the silhouette of the most glorious chin in the world is revealed. Can you overcome… “Cabin Fever”? Opening Halloween Weekend. 

Leo 

You find yourself crouched behind a wooden crate in a blocky world with footsteps around you. You’re wearing dark military gear with a matching headband. A muted green glow on your wrist tells you what you’re needed to do: sneak into this facility, find some highly secretive intel, and bug out before you’re spotted. Will you avoid all the patrols and CCTV cameras in the world of…. “Whisper”? 

Virgo 

This is more of an Art Piece than a Horror Movie. Think “Saw”, but with the snobbiest wine taster you’ve ever known. Duct Tape them to a chair; ankles to neck to wrists, and have them watch in horror as their glass of wine sits on a table, out of reach, about to have the most vile desecration done to it. Because suspended over it, on a string, is a brick of ice - moments away from dropping into it. Welcome to…. “The Cube”!

Libra 

She’s out there. You know she is, but you can’t know where. Flitting from tree to tree, mocking you. Daring you to find her. Imitating people’s voices that almost sound like people you knew. Even making comforting sounds to distract you. Your only weapon of defense… a pocket full of corn kernels and raisins. Welcome to the terror of… “The Crow”. 

Scorpio 

A first-person view’s Coming of Age story. You’re terrified, looking back and forth wildly. You know where you are - you’ve seen all these landmarks before when your mom drove you to the bowling alley with her for league days. But now you’re on your own. Your Huffy 5-speed bike under you as you look for the right road to get there… or will you chicken out and try to find your way home? Can you find your way without a map before your classmates find you? How will you survive… “A Nightmare on Elm Street”?

Sagittarius 

It’s April. You’ve put off all the math until the last minute thinking you’ll be able to get everything done in time. But Midnight is fast-approaching and you don’t know where your tax deductions box is. You need to make it through, “Friday the 13th”! Released direct to video because no movie theatres would screen it!

Capricorn 

Poor fifth graders, trying to grow up and be the Top Dogs of the school. They thought it’d be easy. They… Thought… Wrong. They’re outnumbered Ten-to-One with littler students who intend to make their last week of classes Hell on Earth. Welcome to the next chapter in…. “The Frighteners”!

Aquarius 

Join us in a mild-mannered office, with a mild-mannered man, doing a mild-mannered job. Meet “Carl”, lead animator on one of the most popular childrens’ Saturday Morning Cartoon Series of 1969. But he’s trying to hide secrets from his Quality Checker. Smeared motions, missing facial features, wrong character placements from wide to close shots… Will he get paid this week, or lose his job? Follow Carl’s terror as he is… “Haunted”, by Hanna Barbera Studios.

Pisces  

You were paid last month, but something’s wrong; you’re running out of time for your monthly auto-payments. The New Year’s party time was great, but now you’re literally paying it off with your life. Welcome to March as you try to survive… “28 Days Later”!

And THOSE are your Horrible-Scopes for this week! Remember if you liked what you got, we’re obviously not working hard enough at these. BUT! If you want a better or nastier one for your own sign or someone else’s, all you need to do to bribe me is just Let Me Know! These will be posted online at the end of each week via Tumblr, Twitter, Facebook, Discord and BLUESKY.

(Calling out @scoobydoomistakes specifically on this one!)

[ceescedasticity]

Unforsaken, 7b

(All sections on tumblr)

(AO3, lagging behind but more polished)

Anyway, they take one crate, tell the guards goodbye for now, and head back southeast, past Minas Tirith, through Ithilien, into the Mountains of Shadow.

It would have been more efficient for just Gimli and Legolas to collect the crate on the way back from Rivendell, and meet Zuste, Zena, and Dyn in Ithilien, and also spared Zuste, Zena, and Dyn from not only Ent-proximity but also a round trip through Rohan hoping Gondorian gear and clothing will stop anyone asking questions about Dunlendish features. But no one is quite comfortable moving anything in the caves without Dyn there to confirm they aren't about to set something off.

—It would also have been more efficient not to trek all the way to the edge of Mordor for exploding-things practice, but like hell are they doing that in the same zip code as the Ents. No one will care if they blow up bits of Mordor. Life has been returning, slowly, but there are still many barren parts of the mountains where there are hardly even any bugs to disturb with explosions.

…Not too far into Mordor, though. They wouldn't want to find anything.

There, Gimli demonstrates how to drive into rock faces to place the explosives where it will be most effective, and how to lay fuses to a safe distance away, and tries to look like he's done something similar dozens of times before and not two and a half. (And with explosives from blasting powder every time. Dwarves really don't use explosives often, still less Ironfist Oil.)

Some takeaways from the practice:

The Hirnedhrim are stronger than they look, no real surprise there.

Dwarves tolerate explosions noises better than elves or half-elves.

…Except Dyn, who is used to it.

…No, her hearing is fine, she's just used to it.

Zuste — who spent decades in Isengard — is wincing a lot less than Zena or Legolas, too. Maybe it is just a matter of being used to it.

Anyway they should probably bring something to stop their ears with or there will be some at least temporarily unhappy elves.

(Not like Gimli wants to endanger his hearing with explosions, either.)

Horses don't tolerate explosions well at all.

The effect of Wizard's Clay properly placed within a rock-face is Very Impressive.

…None of them know what exactly they're expecting to be breaking into. A cave, or a fortress, or…?

Gimli says he'll bet no one knows and no one except Elladan and Elrohir will admit to not knowing. —Wait, no, that's wrong, Khitwê and Risyind will admit it, too.

Legolas thinks that's the wrong way of looking at it. There's no way any of the elves could know, so they probably won't think they should know, so why should they pretend otherwise? However, if the currently-orcs haven't explained yet then they probably don't know even though it seems like they should.

Gimli still thinks that if you straight-up asked — as a completely random example — Celeborn, he would not say "I don't know".

Zuste has barely met any elves besides the children of Elrond and Legolas's people in Ithilien, so she has no idea, but volunteers Zena to do the asking.

[eucalyptus-gl0bulus]

i sunk four thousand hours and hundreds of dollars into team fortress 2. i'm not gonna sit back and do nothing as valve ignores it further. crates are now filled with cosmetics from the steam workshop themed dartboard. the head miscs can't even be unusual and the only workaround was using ugly full head items and a bug to wear multiple effects.

the skins aren't there for new things to look at theyre there to add more money to valve's wallet. skins are only good in factory new and you want one with a strange counter, so guess what? you're either paying a shitload or gambling and paying a shitload anyway. the skins are picked out by a nonce with no sense for what makes tf2 tf2. this is still better than what the hats

new maps went from one or two maps that an entire update would center around to adding like 10 of the bastards at random because they needed another source of money in the form of map stamps that nobody buys. and there's always the maps that make you wonder if the valve guy tested the map. or even looked at it in the case of wutville.

i watched as weapon skins replaced adding new weapons. i watched as that same update ruined crates forever both with their picks and the rarity system. i had to look on in horror as mid your match was released and added a fuckload of maps that were popular for 6v6 as they fucked that up beyond measure. they added sunshine and fucked everything else.

we were wondering what valve was doing with a thumb in their ass for the year following that, and we didn't like the new halloween maps because ICS was a mapmaker on one. then jungle inferno came out and we were saying that the big update is yearly now.

and then a year came and went

and another

and another

and another

and another

and another

and ANOTHER

and we're on the 8th year of no major updates. and we've gotten fuck all. we've gotten a guy picking items blindly and the maps have become just another THING to add, and there's nothing. we've seen two entire feature length films made in source filmmaker, which is so famously bad with tf2 stuff. we've seen how much the dedicated fans love the game. and we get neglected because csgo needed to be fucked up to match with tf2 and what's next? gotta fuck up dota 2 on top?

the game is completely dead and a graveyard for non-bots on their official servers. contracts and their rewards are pretty much dead now. the only thing we have to play on are uncle dane's tryhard servers for people that scream at new players, bad players, or people not taking the game as seriously as a bomb threat. and all the fun is gone. and if there's a single sniper player on their team then it's just like what casual is like now.

valve managed to have given csgo enough changes such that when the source code was leaked that's a pretty big difference from what we have. we're still on the same major update. we're still on jungle inferno. the version that was leaked and the version we have are only differentiated by how many artstyle breaking hats and war paints and dogshit maps there are.

MODERN TF2 PLAYERS, WE USED TO HAVE A CONSISTENT UPDATE CYCLE. BIG SUMMER UPDATE. BIGGER HALLOWEEN UPDATE. END OF YEAR GAME REBALANCE. EVERY YEAR FROM 2008 ALL THE WAY TO 2015.

[enjomo-arch]

(  unprompted  :  saint )    //    ♠   @villain-he

❛❛ you a pirate ? haven't seen you pilfer not one ship , spicy hot. ❜❜

❝  y'seem  so  sure  'bout  yer'  words.  ❞  what  was  true  only  lay  somewhere  in  the  shadows.  people  would  always  spill  their  thoughts  at  the  mere  chance,  whatever  they  see.  sure,  he  was  right.  at  least  now,  ace  was  not  too  interested  in  robbing  other  ships.  not  when  he  tried  to  stay  low.  it  would  have  been  hard  to  betray  his  position  when  the  whole  world  wanted  his  head  on  a  stick,  he  knew  better  than  not  to  obliterate  his  tracks  wherever  he  went.  the  only  ship  that  was  enough  for  him  was  his  beloved  striker,  and  the  fleet  waiting  for  him  somewhere  on  that  boundless  sea.  

he  appreciated  the  forwardness or maybe foolish accusations,  squatting  down  onto  a  wooden  crate  with  a  bottle  of  booze  hanging  freely  in  his  hand's  grasp.  a  thumb  only  tipped  the  brim  of  his  hat  up,  letting  the  shielding  shadow  over  his  eyes  to  cease  from  the  view.  a  smile  that  would  make  people  want  to  strangle  him  with  how  cocky,  confident  and  sly  it  looked.  spreading  across  his  freckled  features.  ❝  wanna  bet  yer'  head  on  it,  sugar  ?  ❞  his  words  sounded  like  a  taunt,  a  joke.  and  whether  they  were  actually  a  joke  was  left  to  one's  own  interpretation.  before  the  gravity  of  the  situation  would  rise,  however,  only  a  chuckle  stuck  within  his  throat,  shaking  his  head. 

❝  sorry  sorry,  m'  kiddin'.  tryin'  to  stay  low  now.  i  ain't  interested  in  some  random  ships.  so  do  me  a  favor  if  anyone  asked  ya'  never  seen  me  here.  ❞  he  took  a  swing  of  the  bitter  whiskey  from  the  bottle,  smacking  his  lips  with  the  ease  of  burning  taste  flowing  through  his  throat.

[roboticastudios]

Astrofield update v1.9.1.0

"The Art Update"

Update version 1.9.1.0 Change Log.

I am excited to release this update, I really feel that it ups the fun factor. The game feels much more cohesive now. The new menu design is so much better, but this update improved things in almost every different aspect of this project. 

Fun fact - The background stars during gameplay are actually individual objects (Sprite Nodes) that are generated similarly like the asteroids, with which I control via code, that's why the star patterns are always fresh!

-----Gameplay-----

New - Added an unlocking feature to gradually unlock ships.

New - Added crate counter HUD meter.

Changed - Enabled Alpha Fighter ship's laser to start in ready state (Buff).

Changed - Reduced Flare Runner ship's acceleration (Nerf).

Changed - Increased Flare Runner ship's Dodge-Roll timer (Nerf).

Changed - Further reduced the number of spawned asteroids for Easy mode.

Changed - Reduced the number of spawned asteroids for normal mode.

Changed - Required crates for Easy mode now 3, previously 1.

Changed - Required crates for normal mode now 3, previously 2.

Changed - Slightly increased spawn rate of mega sized asteroids.

Changed - Updated difficulty screen to include text and icon descriptions.

-----Art-----

New - Added several color palettes, now 28 total.

New - Added Occasional background comets.

New - Added cursor to pause menu popup to make the selection choice clearer.

Changed - Added more asteroid sprites for variation.

Changed - Swapped out several color palettes.

Changed - Updated asteroid explosion effect for smaller particles.

Changed - Added explosion effect to all ship’s death animations.

Changed - Updated background stars animation.

Changed - Updated title screen art.

Changed - Updated all menu screens art.

Changed - Updated end credit sequence resolution, art, and effects.

Changed - Updated ability Icon art.

Changed - Updated ship screen menu's ship icons animations.

Changed - Adjusted slow thrust effect for Nimbus, Flare Runner, Goshawk, and Alpha Fighter ships.

Changed - Sound Menu cursor and Data Menu cursor to match the rest of the menus.

Changed - Slightly modified the dodge-roll animation for Roy Jr, Flare Runner, and Alpha Fighter ships.

Changed - Adjusted the Pause menu popup coloring to work better with most color palettes.

Changed - Adjusted title screen choices colors to work better with all color palettes.

-----Sound-----

Changed - Lowered the volume of the asteroid explosion sound.

Changed - Added random pitch variation to the asteroid explosion sound.

Changed - Added random pitch variation to some of the beep sounds.

Changed - Added random pitch variation to the dodge-roll sound.

Changed - Swapped the laser sound and added effects.

Changed - Swapped the torpedo sound and added effects.

-----Other-----

Changed - Redid the fonts, and repositioned all of the text fields throughout, so that they now scale with screen size.

Changed - Slightly modified some of the ship end-credit text descriptions for clarity.

-----Backend-----

Modified the asset deletion queue to be more efficient.

Removed deprecated files.

[animationstoriestochill]

Working with Disney, a look behind the curtain

Featuring: Xavier (X) Atencio and Marc Davis

Here is a fun tale of mine, as a child I would go from time to time to the Disney Parks during Halloween season. My parents always planed it the same way. A week and a half of vacation, one day dedicated to one park and always on the same order: Magic Kingdom, Epcot, Hollywood studios, Universal Studios, Island of Adventure and finally an extra slot to just chill at the hotel.

Now you may be wondering "okey well what the hell does this have to do with today's story?" Well you see my dear reader, all of these parks had one thing in common in my small child brain: they had pirates.

I loved pirates as a kid (and still do to this day) and growing up I would watch anything related to pirates so combine that with the Disney Parks and you probably see where this is going. Pirates of the Caribbean, my favorite attraction of all the parks and also technically later a movie saga (though as a kid I never watched the movies and the one I did glitched in the cinema.... anyways). Pirates of the Caribbean shined as one of the things I would look up the most on these trips so imagine my reaction when thirteen years later Disney released a small documentary of the story behind it and that later on the stars aligned with me having to read this book.

So today's story is not about the pirates (though I will talk about them someway) Today's story is about the lives of the two master minds who created them and their stories when they worked with Walt Disney himself.

This is the story of Xavier Atencio and Marc Davis

Xavier Atencio

I am starting with Xavier for two reasons. One: because his interview is more focused on one thing making it easier for me (and you) to understand how interesting his story is. And two: He has less info online sadly.

X... no not that name Elon choose for the twitter bird, Francis Xavier Atencio (X for short and his nickname in the studio) was an animator and imagineer that was born in Walsenburg, Colorado, 1919. He then studied at an Art School in order to crate a portafolio for Mintz studio but after the school's suggestion he send it to Disney and he got accepted.

Side note

Because Colorado used to be part of Mexico before 1845 plus a wave of immigrants during the early 1900's I am 90% sure his last name used to be Artencio and somewhere down the family line they took the r out cause english speakers can't pronounce a heavy r. Just a random thought.

Xavier is interesting, he worked on the short "Toot, Whistle, Plunk, and Boom" as an animator, worked on some scenes in Dumbo and Fantasia as an assistant for Woolie Reitherman (one of the nine old men) and later became an imagineer. (and yes he wrote the song for the pirates of the Caribbean ride and voiced the talking skeleton before the fall that's why I chose him)

But the most fascinating thing, for me at least, is the story of Disney during and after the strike.

In 1941 workers at Disney went on strike, why? Cause Disney did not know how to run a company. People who were his pals got a raise and promotion while most people just stayed as inbetweeners while also the credits just said "Walt Disney" that's it, no other name mentioned so the workers went on strike in order to get better treatment, one of them being X. X in the interview narrated how he joined the strike (ironically not knowing what the strike was for) and it lasting all summer. After the strike ended instead of returning to work he would go join the US Army due to the war as a photo interpreter, returning later in 1945. Here's the thing because he went to the army right after the strike and returned after the war no one remembered that he participated on the strike, meaning he maintained not only Walt's trust but also his job in general.

Walt was resentful for the people who joined the strike and there for blacklisted and fired almost anyone who participated in it even going as far as claiming the people on the strike were Communists but Xavier didn't see anything of the aftermath, as stated in the interview:

"DP: Did you find there was any stigma attached to having been out on strike? XA: No. As I say, by the time I came back, everything had calmed down. As I understood from some of the other fellows, there were some awful bad feelings. But I never felt that I was deprived of any advancements or anything by the mere fact that I had been out on strike. Some of the guys who’d been out—for instance, Ken Peterson, who was one of the active people in the strike, he had a position of importance. So I think it was just a few individuals that bore a grudge."

What's worse is that the strike combined with the War lead to a heavy financial cut leaving people getting fired in massive waves usually on Christmas and if you did manage to stay chances are, if Disney didn't know you you were never getting a promotion "Some of those people that were in the business when I came and are still there are just professional inbetweeners or professional assistants who never had the ability to really go any further than that, and they’re still doing the same thing". So what happened to the people who left Disney and/or wanted to work on other industries outside of the company. Enter UPA, the manifestation of karma.

United Productions of America or UPA for short was an animation studio characterized by their simple style and detachment from reality compared to Disney, this is because people at UPA wanted to experiment with their artistic vision leading to a new era in animation where the impossible became possible all thanks to animation and Disney HATED them. Time and time again Disney would lose to UPA in any way shape and form so when "Toot, Whistle, Plunk, and Boom", an animation which Xavier worked on and by the way, was his first short film where he was credited, they had to mimic to a certain extend the style of UPA. Remember how Disney never credited their animators and just said "it's a Walt Disney's production" well according to Xavier "He never really claimed it as his picture.He said, “That’s Kimball’s picture.”" Talk about a resentful guy.

Marc Davis

I knew that Marc Davis worked on Pirates of the Caribbean but holy I did not know just how insane this guy is. One of the Nine old men of Disney, Marc Davis carried singlehandedly half of the company and I'm not even exaggerating.

Born on March 30, 1913, in Bakersfield, California. Marc had been in 23 different high schools by the time he graduated and studies in Kansas City Art Institute, the California School of Fine Arts in San Francisco, and the Otis Art Institute in Los Angeles. He had a fascination for drawing animals, he would often visit the local zoo just to sketch the animals and the staff would eventually let him in early at the zoo just so he could make life drawings of the animals.

His stories in Disney are just crazy even the way he got hired sound like something straight out of a book. When Marc moved to Los Angeles he decided to send a letter to Disney and then.

"I don’t know how they made the mistake, but it began, “Dear Miss Davis, Sorry, at the present time we are not hiring women artists.” I wish I’d kept the letter! I was sore and I dumped it in the trash and forgot all about Disney."

And you know what he did next? A couple of months later he got convinced by a coworker to apply again so he went to the Disney offices, sat down for an interview with the same person who rejected him via the letter and immediately got hired right there. Remember kids this was the 1920's women had 0 to no rights.

The marvelous young guys there were from all over the country, and a lot of them were from all over the world. It was a terribly exciting time...just didn’t really know what this thing was about; but the excitement was that every day, somebody did something that hadn’t been done before...Once you learned how to do something very well, you were never asked to do that again

Marc joined when Snow White was in production and worked as an assistant but when Bambi came around, that's where he got the chance to shine. Remember the drawings he would do of animals. Well at the time no one really knew how to properly give animals expressions less how to animate them but Marc's drawings were basically the groundwork for the entire film, being the character designer for almost all the animals as well as animating some scenes in Bambi and yet they forgot to put his name on the credits (how nice) but this lead to Marc being one of Walt's most trusted animators

"I began to know him. Walt had a lot of respect for me as an artist and for being knowledgeable about art, so I had some rapport in that area. As years went on, I had great contact with him in many, many areas. In later years, I had very close contact."

But that's not the only reason why Marc was a legend. He would then go on to crate the most iconic Disney villain, Maleficent. Even though Marc didn't like working on The Sleeping Beauty that much he did design a lot of the characters, mainly Aurora and Maleficent, but he had such clear vision for the way Aurora would move with her clothing that he even hired a costume designer in order to crate an exact replica of Aurora's outfit so that the actor for the rotoscope wore it making it easier to translate animated, that costume designer would later on become his wife, Alice Davis.

And of course I have to talk about Cruela, how could I not talk about her. Marc single handedly animated every single scene she was in. Like I said before Marc didn't really like Maleficent that much because "She was just an evil character and had little or no personality, because all she did was make speeches." So when the time came to draw Cruela he went all out.

"I think she was a combination of things, an attempt to do a villainess that would be fun rather than a villainess that would just be terrifying."

And that is just the tip of the iceberg regarding what Marc did, he would go on to crate Tinkerbell, he worked in Victory Through the Air, he then became an imagineer and designed The Tiki Room, he designed Jungle Cruise, It's a small world, Pirates of the Caribbean, he also worked on Alice in wonderland. This guys is in my opinon, more important and impressive than Walt Disney. Unfortunately due to how long this post is and how I lacked time to make it more detailed (midterms) today's story ends here but if I could believe me I could easily make a 30 minute long video essay just talking about this guys but that will be for another day.

Until next time

Happy Halloween!!