I’m gonna ask the question I know a lot of us are thinking…
what are we gonna do if zephyr and nuffink aren’t named zephyr and nuffink in httyd: homecoming????
Yeah I was thinking about this too… I hope they’ll keep them. But considering that when I asked Dean about their ages, I´me pretty sure I said their names and he answer me immediately, like “Zephyr is 8 and Nuffink is 5”. He didn’t hesitate. So that means, for me, that it’s very clear in his mind. So why would they change them?
As for me, I’m more concerned about the French version, I think they’ll keep Zephyr but I’m really not sure about Nuffink…
I…I absolutely loathe the name Nuffink, I gotta be honest. Mad respect to Cressida Cowell but HICCUP DOESN’T SPEAK WITH AN ENGLISH OR SCOTTISH ACCENT IN THE MOVIES and “Nuffink” sounds hella weird in a standard Canadian accent. It’s gonna sound like Jay Baruchel reading the Peeves the Poltergeist bits from Harry Potter aloud.
This really sounds more like a case-by-case basis to me. I can understand why it would be disrespectful sometimes, but sometimes it can be reasonable and/or funny and/or helpful.
Let me put it to you like this from a graphics maker’s viewpoint:
If a graphics maker has spent an extensive amount of time on a collective photoset (anywhere from several hours to possibly a couple of days, depending on the style), and they get reblogs with people slapping images of characters/ships/etc that they have missed (most of the time unintentionally), then it makes the original poster feel that they actually have to go back and edit the post just to satisfy some unhappy people.
Let me tell you, nobody actually wants to DO that, especially if they were proud of the effort that they put into what they made until people started whining.
There’s also the matter of numbers. For example, I saw a post highlighting certain magical transformations in Disney Animated Canon. If I remember correctly the set had six gifs measuring 245 pixels in width, and someone felt the need to add someone they missed in the comments. I’m very sure the original maker was hard pressed to find an eighth to even it out, but wanted to keep the gifs at 245 pixels because you can hold more frames than in a 500px gif, and even though I’m heavily biased towards the character that was omitted, yeah, if they were not able to find an eighth, someone was getting left out.
There’s also the case of tumblr user mickeyandcompany’s (beautiful, might i add) Valentines Day photoset. They left several couples out and eventually got a string of people like “you’re forgetting one:” and then “no. you [image] are [image] forgetting [image] several [image] couples [image]”. They actually had TO GO BACK AND REDO THEIR SET JUST TO GET THOSE UNGRATEFUL PEOPLE TO CALM THE HELL DOWN holy shit that made me so mad
Also, for that one person that reblogged the last post with ?????????????, if someone has a post that has certain colorings, texture overlays, and even background extraction, yes, posting someone else’s (un)edited gifs/screencaps in the comments DOES KILL THE LOOK.
I wish more people would understand this like ???????????
OKAY so @sakuraxisxevil is in love with Guzma from SuMo and a) I ship it, b) she introduced me to the idea of a Pokemon AU where everything is old timey lords and ladies and princesses. Also probably real life animals replace Pokemon because why not?
This AU catered exactly to like… all of my favorite things, so in return I thought I’d try to write her a little thing?? It’s not very long, and I feel like it’s definitely missing something, but I wanted to get it out there for the time being as a present~ :D
Also I’m kind of tired so my proofreading probably leaves a lot to be desired and apologize in advance. ^^;
Guzma stood, hands bound with rope, staring down the noose that waved cruelly at him in the wind. The bags under his eyes were more pronounced than usual, evidence of the sleepless night he had spent in the cellar of his father’s estate, and his hair was hanging damp around his ears from the nervous sweat even his stubborn pride had been unable to prevent. It was just as well it left him dehydrated, really- with his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth he was less likely to try and make a scene. At this point he half suspected that was what they wanted from him; to prove before the town he was still a boisterous nuisance that needed to be silenced. The sort that no one would miss. He wouldn’t give them that satisfaction. Finally, when the swinging rope became too much, he dropped his eyes to his bound hands, raising them so he could stare at his palms. He might have been bound to a post beside the gallows’ platform and in front of the slowly-gathering crowd, but they had left him enough freedom to raise and lower his arms. Again, probably in hopes he would react like a chained animal and try to escape, making a show for the people.
In all honesty, he had never really attached that much importance to his life. He only existed so his family could say they had an heir. They had to have someone to put on display and then try to whip into shape when no one was looking, it was just that he had just refused one too many times to get into whatever shape it was they expected of him. Every disappointment he’d caused them had led to this- his final punishment for rebellion. Even now, he felt nothing when he thought of going through the ordeal ahead of him. Just one more son disowned by his family, destined for the chopping block so they could make room for another and use him as an example. But as his mind wandered further from himself, instinctively searching for some kind of emotion to feel so it wasn’t left drifting in this sea of apathy, his fingers curled inward into fists. Erika. She had been his future. The one thing that had given him a spark of hope for something better down the road. He had told himself from the onset that nothing good would come of getting too close to her- eventually his father had been bound to intervene- but that hope had persisted. That terrible, lovesick hope that made him feel nauseous with loneliness when he was shut up in his own chambers. The rebellious ache in his chest when his father spoke to him at dinner about his family’s plans they had set for him without his consent. The wonderful thrill of a quickened heartbeat when he found himself meeting her at three AM in the gardens outside his window.
His stomach tightened into a knot and he had to swallow a lump in his throat.
He wouldn’t cry. He couldn’t let his father think he had won. To show tears now would be to show weakness and fear. It would show regret.
He didn’t regret the evenings when Gladion would buy out an entire inn and Erika and her group of friends would gather with him in the lobby to waste half the night laughing and joking as if for all the world they had no responsibilities. He didn’t regret actually taking the time to live a little bit of life, even though he knew punishment came swift and painful afterwards to remind him of his place. He didn’t regret the awkward flirting or the unbidden blush he had been so often suffered from.
He didn’t regret falling in love with a woman that had actually made him feel like he was worth something.
His attention was drawn from his hands as the creaking of wooden steps broke through the whispering of the thickening crowd. As everyone fell silent, he looked towards the gallows again and saw his father now standing a few feet away facing the people, decked out in richly colored robes with a rolled piece of parchment in his hand.
He definitely didn’t look like a father mourning the upcoming loss of his only son.
Guzma closed his eyes and hung his head as the all too familiar voice began to address the gathering. “Today we witness the execution of a punishment handed down from the local court…”
—
The dust rose in thick clouds as hooves the size of dinner plates flew over the the ground, covering the distance quickly not due to speed but solely because the length of the strides were twice that of another horse. Sappire had needed power and stamina over short bursts of speed, and her prized shire horse hadn’t failed her in that department.
As she neared the edge of the town now, she tightened her grip on the rope she’d fashioned into reins and dared to draw her steed to a slow canter and then a trot, coming upon the pair that stood there waiting beside the road. Erika stood wringing her hands anxiously, looking as though her nerves were frayed beyond all repair, while Gladion was at her side, holding on to the reins of his own horse as if prepared to jump into the saddle at any moment. Sappire didn’t wait for either of them to speak. “Where are they at?” Given Erika’s state, it was Gladion who answered, voice tense. “Town square. They’re bound to start any minute.” Reaching one hand to the satchel at her hip, Sappire gave the reins a sharp slap against her horse’s shoulders with the other, bouncing her heels against his sides to further illustrate her intentions. Javelin was not a horse that needed to be told twice, and he shifted back from fast trot to full gallop effortlessly, pausing only long enough to almost rear onto his back hooves to get a small hop of a start. He didn’t know what was going on, but he knew his rider needed his utmost obedience- and he intended to give it to her.
A second later the two were lost in a cloud of dust again and the clattering of horseshoes echoes down the cobblestone street. By the time it had settled a little around them, Erika turned to Gladion only to be greeted with the sight of him in his own saddle, reaching down a hand to her. “Get on. You ought to be there, too.” There was only a moment of hesitation- a flicker of doubt that perhaps they’d arrive too late and meet with a scene she didn’t think she could face- but it faded as quickly as it had come and she took the offered hand with as much courage as she could muster.
They were going to make it in time.
Theyhad to make it time.
—
Danie darted in and out among the crowd of people that now stood in silence around the gallows, listening to the long list of crimes Guzma had allegedly committed against his family. Where was Erika? She looked from face to face for her friend, desperately hoping to find her and determine what was taking so long. Sappire had said she had a plan the night before- she’d all but stormed out of the room upon hearing the news of the verdict that had come in near midnight. Whatever that plan was, it was already running late if it was meant to put a stop to this public hanging.
If Archie hadn’t gotten himself locked up for trying to storm Guzma’s family estate by himself… Bless his stupid little bravado-filled heart, but trying to determine the state of his imprisonment had caused Danie to run late herself, effectively leaving her out of the loop. Supposedly Erika had been left under Gladion’s watch but… but oh, if she could just find her in the crowd-!
This thought process, as well as the reading of Guzma’s apparently numerous transgressions, was interrupted by the crashing of hooves against stone, and everyone turned as one in the direction they came from. It didn’t take long for everyone to realize that a very large horse was coming at a very fast gallop directly towards them and there were scattered yelps and screams as everyone scrambled to clear the way. Sappire barely managed to stop Javelin in time, and he slid to a halt mere inches from the wooden stage that Guzma’s father stood on. Or, well, had been standing on. Nearly getting run into by a shire horse of that size had caused him to stumble backwards and trip, landing on his back and presently scrambling to sit back up. “A decree!” Sappire cried, barely waiting for the clamoring around her to settle as she whisked a gold-trimmed scroll from her satchel. “A decree and royal pardon!” Guzma’s attention had been won the moment he’d heard the yells from the crowd and he looked over the edge of the stage to see what the fuss was about. Seeing Sappire unroll the paper in her hands, he felt his heart jump to his throat. A royal pardon? For him? Of all people, he considered himself the least worthy person in town to warrant any attention from the king, and yet…
A second set of hoof beats drew him away from his thoughts. Though Sappire had begun to read from the document she held, Guzma shuffled a few steps to the side- using up about all the length he had with the rope tying him to the pole- and his eyes widened as he saw behind her.
Approaching now (admittedly at more reasonable pace so as to avoid terrifying any of the bystanders further), Erika was clinging on for dear life to Gladion on the back of his own stallion. She peered over the duke’s shoulder as they slowed their pace, and her eyes flicked to the empty noose for just a second before searching out the face of the man still bound beside it. Once she met the pair of wide, confused eyes she could only breathe a sigh of relief. They had made it. She barely waited for Gladion to come to a complete halt before leaping off the back of the horse to the street below. She stumbled at the force of her landing, almost falling, before gathering up a few handfuls of her skirts into her arms and running to the man who had only moments before been destined for the noose. Danie had seen her by now, as well as made an effort to call out to her, but it died midway when she realized it was pointless. There was no getting Erika’s attention at this point.
Guzma stared at her for a moment before speaking in a broken, hoarse voice hardly loud enough to be heard, let alone at the distance she was at. “Erika…?” Then, as she drew closer, he found his volume again. “Erika-!” By the time she had rushed up and thrown her arms around him he was only vaguely aware that his cheeks were beginning to feel wet with tears. He wasn’t even sure when they had started. With his hands still bound by the rope all he could do was bury his face in the crook of her neck to return her embrace, but it was enough for him in that moment. Taking in a deep breath and savoring the familiar scent of her perfume, faded as it was from a night of pacing the floors with worry, he let it out in a half-sob. She was there. It was going to be okay because she was there. He didn’t even care that he was crying on her shoulder now; if it ruined her dress he’d buy her a new one. He’d buy her a dozen new ones. All he had to his name was a pill bug and a stale piece of bread in his pocket, but he’d figure out how to afford them later. For now, he just needed to let everything sink in. He needed to let her presence sink in.
Absolutely blaming @eternalglitch for calling me out on my specific ☆brand☆ of favorite characters so I had to scratch this very particular itch in my art brain.
what they don’t tell you about being an artist is that sometimes you will sit down and suddenly know how to draw something that youve never gotten right before
I still haven’t quite forgiven Tim for fucking up about 75% of my combos in ArkhamKnight’s AR mode, so. It’s mean. I know. But this sparks a little bit of joy.
