#milo thatch

Voici un autre dessin de Milo et Kida du Disney « Atlantide, l’Empire Perdu » (cf. post du 14 mai) que j’ai adapté d’un dessin publicitaire des animateurs Randy Haycock et John Pomeroy.

La rumeur court que le film d’animation « Atlantide, l’empire perdu » serait prochainement adapté en film live… Vrai ou faux, ce classique Disney mésestimé fêtera ses 20 ans l’an prochain et je rêve de produits dérivés faisant justice à la vraie première princesse noire et guerrière du studio : Kida ! Voici ici un dessin que j’ai adapté d’un dessin publicitaire des animateurs Randy Haycock et John Pomeroy.

Vinny: Uh, you know, thanks anyway… but I think we’re good.

Vinny: There’s a hero’s welcome… waiting for the man who discovered Atlantis. 

MILO: Besides, I hear there’s an opening down here… for an expert in gibberish. 

THE END

Directed by: @askjamessirius
Producers:@egdramaqueen,@asklilyluna,@askjamessirius

Cast:

Milo:@devilwearsmadammalkins
Vinny:@didyaputyanameinda-gobletoffiya
Audrey:@itskitsworld
Kida:@weasley-is-my-kingg

discover more magic here! 

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. First off, I’d like to thank this board for taking the time to hear my proposal.

Now, we’ve all heard of the legend of Atlantis, a continent somewhere in the mid-Atlantic that was home to an advanced civilization possessing technology far beyond our own that, according to our friend Plato here, was suddenly struck by some cataclysmic event that sank it beneath the sea.

Now, some of you may ask, why Atlantis? It’s just a myth, isn’t it? Pure fantasy. Well, that is where you’d be wrong.”

I recently had the chance to do a photoshoot at the Field Museum of Natural History as Milo Thatch and I could not have been happier with the photos from my lovely friend Sen.

Photo credit: @sensayshello

Instagram: @sharp.shot.efx

     Thaddeus thinks about his family while on the famous ‘arrowhead discovery’ camping trip.

    Takes place in September 1890, when Milo is 8 years old.

    “Want one, grandpa?”

    The question startled Thaddeus awake. He’d been seated by the fire in a camp chair, dozing comfortably in his after-dinner lethargy, enjoying the sounds of the forest surrounding the camp.

    He looked to his right and saw Milo sitting cross legged, holding out a freshly made s’more.

    He sat up and shook off the haze that had enveloped him only moments before.

    “Oh, no thank you, Milo. I had quite enough at dinner.”

    Dinner had consisted of tinned beans, beef jerky, and the biscuits Thaddeus had made the day before. A good hot meal had hit the spot, a perfect end to a long and adventurous day in the woods.

    Thaddeus smiled to himself as he watched Milo take a bite out of the s’more. Much like himself in his younger years Milo had a voracious sweet tooth and s’mores had quickly become a campfire staple since his discovery of them a few years before. Personally, Thaddeus found them a little too sweet for his liking and would only have one occasionally. Milo knew this but still offered an extra every time he was making one for himself. He was a good kid. Kind, generous, loyal, with an eager mind, always keen to learn. Thaddeus could see he had the makings of a brilliant scholar and knew he would go on to do great things. Though Thaddeus hoped the future would be kinder to him.

    The flickering and exaggerated shadows cast by the campfire highlighted the barely visible scar on Milo’s forehead. It was a stark reminder of the tragedy that had occurred only a few short years before.

    The train wreck had nearly claimed the lives of all Thaddeus’s remaining family members and not for the first time he wondered at the fact that Milo had survived when so many others including his parents had died.

    Milo’s injuries had kept him in the hospital for several weeks and by the time he had been well enough to leave all funeral services had long since concluded. Milo had never gotten to say a proper goodbye to his parents. Though he’d really been too young to understand what had happened.

    He vividly remembered Milo sitting on the porch of the house in the weeks after he’d come to live with him, waiting day after day for a mother and father who would never return. Thaddeus had done his best to help Milo understand what had happened. He’d taken him to the cemetery to see Augustus and Lucille’s graves, but it had still been several years before Milo had been old enough to fully grasp the concept of death. To little Milo it had seemed as if his parents had only gone out for a short while and would return any moment.

    He never spoke of the accident, of whether he remembered anything of that fateful day, and Thaddeus could never bring himself to ask about it. But he knew it had left a lasting impression on Milo’s young mind. He had nightmares occasionally and would wake screaming in terror for his parents. Thaddeus would always take Milo to sleep in his bed afterwards and for the next day or two Milo would be quiet, his natural exuberance and enthusiasm tempered by what he’d relived in his dreams.

    Thaddeus did his best to make sure Milo had a happy and carefree life filled with all the books, camping trips, and museum outings a boy could want. And he knew Milo was, for the most part, happy though there were times when he caught him staring longingly at families, at children with parents. And whenever he noticed he reminded himself they were simply a different kind of family, a family of two, but a family no less.

    It was difficult to try and be mother, father, grandmother, and grandfather all in one but it was a job Thaddeus gladly accepted.

    He was no stranger to grief. His wife, Ella, had passed years ago. The birth of their son, Augustus, had been difficult and she had died when he was just two days old leaving Thaddeus with the responsibilities of parenting. It had been hard raising a child on his own. He’d expected to have his wife by his side for years to come, to raise their children together, to grow old with her and enjoy their grandchildren side by side. But that dream had been cruelly cut short and the joyous occasion of the birth of his son had been tempered by heartbreaking loss. He’d gained a son but lost his wife. And then he’d lost his son and daughter-in-law too.

    He’d had twenty-two short and wonderful years with Augustus before the train accident. He remembered sitting at Milo’s bedside in the hospital wondering how life could again be so cruel as to take the ones he loved. Milo was his only remaining family and while outwardly he put on a brave face and did his best to give Milo a happy childhood, inwardly he harbored a deep fear of losing Milo as well. It was a fear that sometimes filled him with anxiety, but he hid it well and never let Milo know how deeply it affected him, how when Milo would wake screaming from his nightmares it left Thaddeus unable to sleep afterwards. How he would lie awake long after Milo had fallen back to sleep if only to reassure himself his grandson was still breathing.

    It was a wonder he’d even agreed to their camping trips, but it seemed his grandson was a chip off his block in a way not even Augustus had been. One rainy afternoon several years ago Milo had been scouring the bookshelves in their house for reading material to stave off boredom and had discovered Thaddeus’s old adventuring journals. He’d been young enough to be uninhibited by the thought of intruding on someone else’s private thoughts and had begun to read. He’d come running to his grandfather excitedly and there had been no going back. So, he now did his best to keep Milo safe while cautiously encouraging his love of adventure. And truth be told he’d had been delighted to have his grandson take an interest in the same things he did.

    Somewhere in the trees an owl hooted softly, and Thaddeus smiled fondly to himself as he watched Milo happily eating his s’more with one hand and beginning to sketch his newest treasure with the other. Earlier that day while they’d been hiking along a stream Milo had discovered what he thought was an arrowhead in the water. He’d been so thrilled, carefully cleaning and wrapping it in a handkerchief, then tucking it lovingly into the pocket of his vest. Thaddeus hadn’t had the heart to tell him it was only a rock that had compressed and fractured into a misleading triangular shape. Instead, he’d exclaimed in delight and amazement, promising to have it framed to commemorate the extraordinary find.

    Thaddeus wasn’t sure where the drawing talent had come from. No one on his side of the family had ever displayed any artistic abilities and he himself was only able to draw barely passable stick figures. He wondered not for the first time if the skill had come from Milo’s mother’s side of the family. Lucille hadn’t known much of her family having been orphaned herself when she was a teenager. A sad smile crossed his face. There had been so much tragedy in their family. If he’d been a superstitious man, he might have wondered if they were cursed.

    Milo seemed to sense he was being watched and looked up suddenly, catching Thaddeus off guard. “Grandpa?” he asked, face serious. “Are you alright?”

    Thaddeus shook himself out of his melancholy thoughts and smiled in earnest. “Just thinking.”

    Milo studied him for a long moment, his glasses reflecting golden light from the fire. And Thaddeus wondered if Milo had guessed what had been on his mind. He was a perceptive kid.

    Finally, Milo spoke. “I love you, Grandpa.”

    Thaddeus felt his eyes prickle. So perceptive. He cleared his throat. “I love you too.”

    Milo smiled then and finished the last bite of his s’more before lowering his head and continuing with his sketch.

     Thaddeus settled back in his chair and a comfortable silence fell between them broken only by the crackle of the fire and the hooting of the nearby owl. He firmly put all thoughts of the past out of his head and concentrated on being present and enjoying this quiet moment with his grandson.

    It was the only thing that mattered.