#mime and marionette

[ladyorlandodream]

Mime and Marionette

Such a crazy couple

And I love them

[sebeth]

Never Should've Joined This Freak Show

[somedudenamedanthony]

My TADC Oc!!! Maxi O'nette

[shamlesspandanerd]

[towritecomicsonherarms]

Doomsday Clock #6

[jamesharmonia]

Redesigned because I fucking hated that first design, I gave her a ton of details for the fairy stuff but fuck it, mime. Was a bit inspired by Elphelt from Guilty Gear so her first form was all pink and her second form is darker though ironically she's way more depressed on her first form and by the time of The Midnight Carnival she's way happier and sillier, fairy style, still no design for Niriel. I decided to give her a mime design since her first design was a ballerina so goes a bit with the puppet theme, going from dance to mimicry, it was also a way easier design to make.

[deadpuppetboi]

To the people who specifically draw The Marionette like a clown or a mime, I love you, and let's be friends.

[karinagaz]

#marchionette day 23 #smile #smiledrawing #marionette #mime #mimedrawing #marker #markerart #clownart #clown #circus #marchionette2023 #traditionalart #artchallenge https://www.instagram.com/p/CqI8wcPpoIG/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[puppyluver256]

Oh dear, Muette seems to have gotten themself into a bit of a pickle again! Now it looks like they've somehow been transformed into a marionette of some kind! Well, I think they...or perhaps it would be more appropriate for the time being? Either way, looks like it's doing okay in its predicament for now, surprisingly enough. See, it's got a big happy smile on its face! And it's not freaking out about this either, in fact it's dancing quite enthusiastically! ...why do I get the feeling you're not buying that XD

On a side note regarding the construction of Muette's new (temporary) form, this is my first time drawing a marionette in general iirc, so I have to wonder if it has enough strings to make it move properly or if it needs any more. What do you guys think? If nothing else it'd be something to keep in mind juuuust in case of the sliiiight possibility of me letting someone else get in on the fun... :3c (also if I draw this form of Muette again, I think I'll have the string holders be that accent pink, if not the strings as well)

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~Likes are appreciated, but reblogs are preferred as they let more people see my artwork! If you have something to say, feel free to give feedback in tags/comments/replies as well!~

Muette the Mime (any form) and artwork © PuppyLuver Studios

[madddraws]

True Terror

[heartfullofleeches]

Mime Darling's Imaginary Friend Yan is a blind marionette. Their sight had been lost to them long ago for reasons even they don't seem to remember. Their eyes, what happened to them? All that remains where they rested in their skull is charred wood. For what feels like centuries, the puppet remains alone. Every once in a while, it hears something - the faint whistle of an instrument of some kind. It calls to them yet they fear making themselves known. They wouldn't want to disrupt the creative process such a melody, but soon comes a day when it's disturbed by other means as soft cries replace the sounds they once knew. This was not something they could allow.

"Hello? Is there someone there?... Can you speak to me? My eyes.... They're not what they used to be."

The other presence in the room doesn't reply for they cannot. Mime Reader reaches out - tapping the wooden figure on their arm. They're moreso embarrassed someone heard them cry - or listened to their harmonica practice than terrified of the creature before them.

"Can you not speak?... That's alright... Please, don't cry, dear. I love this other "voice" of yours so and it pains me to hear your sorrow. May I stay at your side and dry your tears so that I may hear it more often?"

The mime throws their arms around the marionette's husk. They themselves have been alone for some time and in need of companionship. If this doll was willing to be with them as they claimed, what was the harm in saying no?

"Thank you, my dear. I promise that as long as I am near nothing will ever hurt you again. This I swear to you. Is there any way you could tell me your name?"

The Mime traces their name on the back of the puppets hand.

"That is a beautiful name. It is a pleasure to meet you, Y/n."

[pupsmailbox]

CLOWN︰JESTER ID PACK

NAMES︰ ace. anticette. apple. arcade. aster. astucieux. astuto. astuzia. august. balloonette. bandit. battutista. bennett. bingo. birthdae. blossom. bob. bobbie. bobby. boink. bon. bonnie. bozo. buddy. buttercup. button. buzz. calypso. carnival. casper. circus. circusse. cirque. clerihew. clown. clownesse. clownette. comet. comic. commedia. confetti. cory. cosmo. crayon. dainty. daisie. daisy. dash. dewey. dex. dexter. ditzie. ditzy. dizzy. doll. dolos. doodle. dot. dottie. emery. emil. espie. finn. fizz. flynn. fool. foolette. frills. giggles. giullare. glitter. gracie. gwen. harlequin. harlette. harley. imp. jaspers. jesse. jessie. jest. jester. jesteresse. jesterette. jesterlita. jestesse. jestette. jett. jill. jingle. jinx. joker. jokesse. jokesy. jokette. jolly. joy. joyce juice. jupiter. ken. kip. kipper. kite. kizzy. lala. lolli. lulu. madeline. maeve. marionette. marjorie. maverick. merry. milo. mimi. nifty. pagliaccio. paint. pantin. parade. patches. pendolo. pierre. pierro. pierrot. pigeon. piper. polka-dot. polka. polkadot. poppy. puzzle. quin. quinn. quinny. raspberry. ribbon. ribbonne. riley. rio. rocket. rogue. ruffle. sally. scooter. scout. scribble. sekai. sketch. skippy. skittle. snicker. soda. spade. spark. sparks. sprinkle. squeak. squiggle. stitch. stitches. streamer. sunbeam. sunny. sunray. taffy. tally. terach. tessa. tetris. titter. toby. tommy. triboulet. tricheur. trick. trickesse. trickette. trix. trixie. tryck. tryx.. tune. twinkle. twirl. wendy. whimsy. yippie. zane. zang. zany. ziggy.

PRONOUNS︰ aah/aah. an/antic. animal/cracker. balloon/balloon. bard/bard. be/bell. blast/blast. bo/bounce. boing/boing. boop/boop. bri/bright. bright/bright. card/card. chi/chime. circus/circuse. clown/clow. clown/clown. co/color. co/colorful. co/comedy. co/comical. colo(u)r/colo(u)r. color/color. comic/comic. comic/comical. costume/costume. dot/dot. egg/egg. ent/entertain. fo/fool. fool/fool. fu/fun. fun/fun. giggle/giggle. h!!/h!!m. ha/ha. harley/harlequin. he/hem. honk/honk. hu/humor. h☆/h☆m. h⭐/h⭐m. ip/ip. jest/jest. jester/jester. ji/jingle. jingle/jangle. jinx/jinxe. jo/joke. jo/joker. jo/jokester. jo/joy. joke/joke. joke/joker. joke/jokester. jol/jolly. juggle/juggle. jump/jump. ki/kit. kit/kit. la/laugh. la/laughter. laugh/laugh. light/light. mi/mime. mim/mime. mis/mischief. mrrp/mrrp. party/party. pattern/pattern. paw/paw. perform/perform. perform/performer. pip/pip. pla/play. pla/playful. play/play. pom/pom. pop/pop. pos/posse. prank/prank. prank/prankster. pun/pun. pup/pup. quip/quip. rainbow/rainbow. ruse/ruse. sh!!/h!!r. shine/shine. sho/show. sh☆/h☆r. sh⭐/h⭐r. si/silly. silly/silly. smile/smile. sparkle/sparkle. splat/splat. squee/squee. star/star. suit/suit. ted/teddy. th!!y/th!!m. th☆y/th☆m. th⭐y/th⭐m. topsy/turvy. trick/trick. trick/trickster. vex/vexe. wah/waah. wi/witty. wit/wit. wonder/wonder. yip/yip. yip/yippee. zi/zir. ☀️ . ⚘️ . ✨ . ❗ . 🃏 . 🌈 . 🌻 . 🍌 . 🍭 . 🎁 . 🎂 . 🎆 . 🎈 . 🎉 . 🎊 . 🎠 . 🎡 . 🎢 . 🎪 . 🎭 . 🎵 . 🎶 . 🐾 . 💡 . 💦 . 💫 . 📯 . 🔊 . 🔔 . 🖍 . 🖍️ . 🗯 . 😜 . 🤡 . 🥳 . 🧁 . 🧨.

[real-odark]

ideas for how jane doe can be portrayed:

doll, puppet/marionette, clown, theater mask/theateresque, mime, ghost, robot/mechanical, wind-up, statue (kind of night at the museum or somethin), speaking of museum a painting, shadow puppet(?), ethereal being?, cuckoo clock bird, music box character, another time period (40s, 50s), following the last idea maybe a radio broadcast type, ventriloquist, ragdoll ann

[chrystalwynd]

Where Everybody Knows Your Name- Part 1

Words: 2400

mc mf md tentacles

                I turned off the main street and started walking down the alley.

                I was in downtown Chrystal Heights, but this alley could have been anywhere. Different colored neon lights blinked above doorways and on signs jutting above the narrow alley, advertising various businesses and services. The types of businesses and services one uses a neon lit doorway in an otherwise dark alley to enter.

                I found the doorway I was looking for easily enough. I passed through the door and walked into The Electric Raven.

Inside was somewhat better lit, but only slightly. Track lighting made some areas fairly bright, but there were a host of darkened corners and nooks where one could sit relatively unobserved. If one wished, of course. Tables of different sizes were placed haphazardly, with no particular order to them. Old couches sat here and there, along with the occasional loveseat. Quotes, graphics and artistic images covered the walls. In one corner was a small slightly raised deck with a single dim spotlight shining on a microphone stand with a stool next to it.

                I paused for a moment. The Electric Raven was more environment than bar. It was smoky heat and neon mystery. Where the quiet and dangerous shared drinks with the casually intense. Where the lost and malevolent played darts with the virtuous and forbidden. A door between the known and unknown. A fun place to drink, but only if you knew the score.

                I glanced around. It was a typical night at The Electric Raven, if such a thing existed. A group of Hell’s Choir bikers were gathered around a table, singing show-tunes in Latin. A 19th-century British safari hunter played backgammon with a dwarf wearing a ballerina outfit. An eight-foot tall man wearing a loincloth and covered with tattoos debated Nietzsche with an unspeakably beautiful succubus, her pointed tail punctuating her assertions. A female ninja, barely visible in the smoky shadows, shared laughs and hair tips with a bearded transvestite. A live marionette twirled about the dance floor, her unseen strings manipulated by unseen hands, as she danced to the music from a mime’s air-guitar performance.

                Everyone was welcome at The Electric Raven and questions weren’t asked.

                So it was a quiet night. I strolled by the bar and nodded to the bartender. “Evening, Craig.”

                Craig was polishing an already-clean glass. He nodded back. “Elliot. ‘Ow’s tricks, mate?”

                I tossed a pretzel to the gremlin next to the cash register. His name was Dexter. Then I gave Craig a non-committal thumbs up and headed toward my favorite corner.

                The mime left the stage, replaced by an intense-looking man who didn’t blink enough. The man stepped up to the microphone and paused. Then he started speaking:

                “The power to change;

                the strength to not change.

                They are the Originals.

                The battle between Good and Evil continues;

                light and dark conflict.

                The teachers teach, but who watches the watchers?

                They are the Originals.”

                The man turned and exited the stage without waiting for the smattering of applause his poem had generated. The low buzz of conversation resumed.

I continued making my way toward my table. As I got there, however, I was stopped.

                She was dressed in tight clothing, her lush curves packaged perfectly, with all the right parts on display. From her blue-dyed hair to her manicured bare red toes, she was pure heat. She gave me a smile that offered all kinds of promises.

                “Hi,” she said, her fingers playing with my shirt. “My name is Kiki.”

                “Hi, Kiki,” I said, feeling the heat racing to my already thickening cock. “What can I do for you?”

                “I just wanted to say hi,” she said, pressing closer to me, letting me smell her delightful perfume. “Maybe we could get to know each other a little, you know?”

                I nodded, offering a foolish smile. “That sounds great.”

                “Oh, yes,” she said, her bare belly close to mine. “Maybe we could even have some fun.”

                I smiled. She was good. My dick was ready to burst out of my pants. But she was too inexperienced to close the deal this time. Particularly against someone like me.

                “That’s a wonderful idea,” I said. “Fun is good. So let’s have some fun.”

                And then I turned her power against her.

                Kiki’s eyes widened and her cheeks suddenly flushed. Her lips parted slightly, then closed. Her nipples were hard, thick erasers pressing out against the stretchy tightness of her top. She placed her palms on my chest, then slowly dropped to her knees in front of me.

                Her face was inches from my bulging zipper. I smiled as the heat-bunny struggled internally between rational thought and overwhelming physical need.

                Physical need won out, as I knew it would. Red nails found my zipper, pulled it down, allowing my rigid cock to spring free, nearly slapping Kiki in the face. Unable to help herself, she slid her warm, wet mouth over my cock.

                I smiled, enjoying the wave of pleasure generated by Kiki’s firmly-wrapped lips stroking over my dick. No doubt the patrons of [i]The Electric Raven[/i] were enjoying the show and Kiki was dying of embarrassment, but Kiki couldn’t have stopped working my cock any more than she could have grown a second head. All she could do was see it through to the end.

                This being Chrystal Heights, people are occasionally born with some random abilities. These abilities can take different forms. Sometimes that form is the ability to amplify someone else’s arousal to extreme levels. In males, it’s often found in Alphas and will usually result in any number of swelled bellies in their wakes. In females, it’s pretty much an amplification of a female’s natural ability.

                Of course, some women try to use it as Kiki did. Give a man a rock-hard dick, promise him pure bliss and get him in private. The man’s so revved up by the time the woman actually touches him, he absolutely explodes and then passes out from the amplified intensity. The woman then helps herself to the contents of his wallet and makes her way home. It works on women as well, but men tend to be easier and far more predictable marks. These women are usually referred to as heat-bunnies and are typically found in alleys or bars like The Electric Raven.

                It’s an easy way to make quick money and it’s not even illegal. Just another social peril to be aware of in Chrystal Heights. But as Kiki was learning, it was only fun until you run into somebody who can turn it around on you.

                Blue hair bobbing, Kiki’s mouth continued stroking over my shaft. She wasn’t bad, just inexperienced. To be fair, of course, it was unlikely she ever had to go this far with any of her marks. With her ability to raise a man’s arousal to maximum levels, a stroke or two with her hand would be enough to leave her mark snoring. It was even possible she was giving her first blowjob ever.

                By using her power on me, she had given me the ability to use it on her. Being a power mirror, with the ability to reflect one’s power back at them, made it easy. And now I decided to turn her arousal all the way to maximum as I filled her mouth with my semen.

                She moaned around my cock, making me explode harder and longer. Her throat worked as she helplessly swallowed my seed, my throbbing dick not giving her a moment to catch her breath. Her orgasms would likely have been shrill had my cock not been in her mouth.

                After what had to be endless moments for Kiki, my ejaculation finally slowed, then stopped. Whimpering, Kiki swallowed the last of my thick semen and finally slid her mouth off my cock. Still on her knees, she looked up at me with wide eyes, a hand on her full belly, breathing through her mouth.

                Everyone in the immediate area applauded her efforts. Cheeks flaming, the heat-bunny leaped to her feet and fled.

                I chuckled and sat down. Kiki had put me in a better mood.

                “That was disgusting,” said a voice. “She should have beat your ass.”

                I chuckled and said, “Hello, Tempest.”

                Tempest was a five-and-a-half foot tall bundle of anger and bad intentions. She was dressed head-to-toe in black leather, denim and spikes, complete with black boots. Her arms were covered with sharp-lined tattoos and beaded bracelets that contained any number of hexes and protection spells, complementing the daggers strapped to her waist. Even her haircut was angry. What little hair she had, anyway, as her head was shaved almost completely smooth except for a two-inch wide strip of hair running from her forehead to the back of her head. All-in-all, she projected quite the intimidating picture.

                She was also the waitress.

                “Fuck you, Elliot,” she said. “I’m still not talking to you. What the hell do you want?”

                I grinned. “You’re not still mad about that poker game, are you?”

                Tempest glared at me. “You got me wasted on fucking Stoneberry Wine!”

                I gave her an innocent look. “I thought you liked wine.”

                “You know damn well Stoneberry Wine isn’t actually wine, dickhead! It’s fucking radioactive moonshine made to taste like wine! I couldn’t fucking walk for two days!”

                “It actually made you likeable, Tempest,” I said. “Almost…adorable, you know? Especially afterward, when we-“

                Tempest drew a dagger and pressed the point against my throat in the same movement. “Shut the fuck up, dickhead! Nobody knows about that, all right? Nobody! And it fucking stays that way or I stick this dagger right up your-“

                Craig’s voice suddenly said, “Tempest!”

                Tempest glared at Craig for a moment, then exhaled and sheathed her dagger. “Fine. What do you want?”

                It seemed imprudent to make any more references to anything non-drink related. “Let me have a shot of Diamond Cutter.”

                Tempest nodded, then turned and stalked away. I admired the way her hips moved, but I knew enough to keep my observations to myself.

*****

                A few minutes later, I was enjoying my drink in relative quiet. I entertained myself by listening to three men discuss their upcoming trip to San Francisco on their search for some artifact lost or hidden there in the ‘40s. Not that that was unusual. Chrystal Heights was a common stop for those looking to buy or sell objects of power.

                Then the lights dimmed and smoke began swirling around an unoccupied table in the middle of the floor. Still swirling, the smoke thickened, then thinned out and misted away. The lights regained their earlier intensity. Such as it was.

                Left in the remnants of the smoke were two figures sitting at the table. Both were robed and hooded, one in black, the other in red. Between them sat what appeared to be an ancient chess board. The various pieces were intricately carved and spread about the board, as if in mid-game.

                The figure in the black robes glanced around. No face could be seen in the darkness under the hood. The figure in black then nodded and a voice sounded from inside the hood. “Well chosen, old friend.”

                The red-robed figure gave a nod of acknowledgement. “Thank you,” he said. His voice, like the other, was low, but vibrant with power and knowledge, and it carried to all corners of The Electric Raven. “We are agreed then?”

                The black-robed figure said, “Agreed.”

                As the sound of the black-robed figure’s voice faded, a single red square appeared on the floor next to their table. The square expanded, growing larger, and then and other squares appeared, expanding from the original square. As the squares expanded, any chairs or tables in the way were simply moved by whatever unseen force was creating the checkered floor.

                Soon a ten-foot by ten-foot chess board occupied the space next to the table, the squares alternating red and black. Both robed figures nodded their satisfaction.

                “The battlefield is set,” said the figure in red. “Your move, old friend.”

                At any other establishment, this would be considered extraordinary. But here at [i]The Electric Raven[/i], it was merely unusual.

                The black-robed figure was silent for a moment. Then he moved a piece on the board and said, “Black knight attacks red rook.”

                A swirl of smoke appeared on the black figure’s side of the chessboard. Then the smoke cleared, revealing a cute cheerleader with a sweet smile and evil eyes. There was a horse-head on the front of her sweater and the words “Go Knights!” embroidered on the back.

                I glanced around. I recognized the cheerleader as one of a pair that had been discussing Emily Dickenson over shots of Jagermeister with a pair of nuns.

                There was another swirl of smoke on the opposite side of the board. When the smoke cleared, a young woman stood in a paint-smeared smock, an easel standing in front of her.

                “An art mage,” murmured the black-robed figure. “An interesting move, old friend.”

                “I find your choice to be just as fascinating,” said the red-robed figure. “Shall we begin?”

                “Indeed.”

                And then the battle began.

                The cheerleader leaped forward and launched into a complicated series of backflips and summersaults. She seemed to be moving in all directions at once. Then she suddenly shot forward directly toward the art mage.

                The young woman had not been idle, however. Her paintbrush had been flying around the canvas at an incredible speed. The art mage suddenly stopped painting and reached out to touch the canvas. She made a single motion across the canvas just as the cheerleader’s attack arrived.

                The cheerleader leaped forward, the blade of her foot extended. It struck a trampoline that hadn’t been there a moment earlier. The force of her attack caused her to rebound high in the air. She landed on the ground with a loud thud.

                “She very nearly landed out of bounds,” said red robes.

                “Nearly is not the same as did,” said black robes.

                The art mage began working again on the now-blank canvas and the trampoline immediately faded away. The cheerleader struggled back to her feet. Then the art mage swiped across the canvas again.

                Immediately a battery of missiles appeared on either side of the art mage. One-by-one, they began launching, directed at the cheerleader.

[CONCLUDED IN PART 2]

[barkingbonzo]

THUNDERBIRDS Christmas

Thunderbirds is a British science fiction television series created by Gerry and Sylvia Anderson, filmed by their production company AP Films (APF) and distributed by ITC Entertainment. It was made between 1964 and 1966 using a form of electronic marionette puppetry (dubbed "Supermarionation") combined with scale model special effects sequences. Two series, totalling thirty-two 50-minute episodes, were filmed; production ended with the completion of the sixth episode of the second series after Lew Grade, the Andersons' financial backer, failed in his bid to sell the programme to American network television.

Set in the 2060s, Thunderbirds is a follow-up to the earlier Supermarionation productions Four Feather Falls, Supercar, Fireball XL5 and Stingray. It follows the exploits of International Rescue, a life-saving organisation equipped with technologically advanced land, sea, air and space rescue craft; these are headed by a fleet of five vehicles named the Thunderbirds and launched from the organisation's secret base of operations in the Pacific Ocean. The main characters are ex-astronaut Jeff Tracy, leader of International Rescue, and his five adult sons, who pilot the Thunderbird machines.

Thunderbirds debuted in September 1965 on the ITV network. The series was exported to around 30 countries during the 1960s. Alongside tie-in merchandise, the series was followed by two feature films– Thunderbirds Are Go and Thunderbird 6. Widely regarded as the Andersons' most popular and commercially successful series, Thunderbirds has been praised for its special effects (directed by Derek Meddings) and musical score (composed by Barry Gray). It is also remembered for its title sequence, which begins with an oft-quoted countdown by Jeff Tracy voice actor Peter Dyneley: "5, 4, 3, 2, 1: Thunderbirds Are Go!" Periodically repeated, it was adapted for radio in the 1990s and has influenced many TV programmes and other media. It was followed by an anime adaptation, a mime theatre show, a live-action film and a computer-animated remake series; additionally, three new episodes, based on tie-in audio plays and made using the same techniques as the original series, were created.

[towritecomicsonherarms]

Doomsday Clock #3