Aisha from Winx Club 🧚🏿♀️ . Ugh. I’m trying to practice my rendering skills and establish some sort of art style but I don’t know how I feel about this one, eyes are too big and the hair ....I got lazy. Idk. . . #aisha #winxclub #winxclubedit #winxclubfanart #winxclubaisha #winxclublayla #layla #laylawinx #aishawinx #winx #cartoonart #winxclubart #winxfanart #winxlove #winxedits #winxclubforever #ekki #ekkiart #fanart #90cartoons #90cartoon #90scartoons #90scartoon https://www.instagram.com/p/COIiLXjlGJI/?igshid=igjtudblj5o2
So I’ve been cleaning up my sketches in ArtStudio pro. I love the graphite brush! It feels old school animator .😊 So I cleaned up this Slappy sketch. #slappysquirrel #animaniacs #warnerbros #90cartoons #fanart #artistsoninstagram #beaglebabe1 https://www.instagram.com/p/CLf1LDzDWZG/?igshid=py916qjw0d4v
What Wilbur and his three friends found outside was exactly what they had expected. A numerous contingent of tomatoes, almost as tall as a human, wearing golden helmets with T-shaped visors and mouths full of fangs. They had formed a semicircle around the inn door, leaving an empty space in the center, just where they expected the humans to stand. And, like a judge, right in front of that space stood Zoltan, perched on the head of one of his soldiers.
"Well, it's about time you came out. We were starting to think we'd have to grow roots waiting for you."
"What do you want, Zoltan? The first turn in the mines is over," Wilbur said defiantly.
"Yeah, you don't want to have starving slaves, do you?" Sam added, standing next to Wilbur.
"Oh, well, that would be a shame," said the captain of the guard in a tone that suggested he really didn't care. "Especially with so much hard labor ahead for some of you. But a little bird told us that you're discussing some rather... perilous matters here."
Inside the inn, there was a collective gasp as those present exchanged terrified glances. They knew. The tomatoes knew what they had been talking about up until that moment. They hadn't arrived by chance. This was going to be a punishment. The air in the inn became thick as butter, with people struggling to move in that metaphorical grease to come up with some excuse to save themselves from the tomatoes' wrath.
"We could say we just came to eat," someone murmured timidly.
In response, he received a series of incredulous and sarcastic looks, or arms that were placed in a jar-like position and eyebrows arched. Realizing what he had said, the man turned bright red with embarrassment and retreated to a corner.
"I've got it!" another guy said suddenly. "We can say we came to see the spring jousting tournament."
His idea was met with admiration from the rest of his folks, which emboldened him to run to the counter. There, at one end, was a small wish fountain; round and with a conical pillar in the center. The man searched his pockets and pulled out a small gold coin. He formed a fist around it and, bringing it to his lips, murmured,
"I wish to see the spring jousting tournament."
He threw the golden disc into the turquoise waters. Almost immediately, they began to bubble, first gently and then as if a dwarf were drowning in them. Crystalline jets rose a few centimeters before breaking away from the surface. They folded in on themselves, forming two perfect spheres that didn't last long. Like if they were made of clay, they began to deform, molded by invisible hands until they took the shape of two water-made riders. Both were perfectly distinguishable from each other, with well-defined features and their own coats of arms. You could even hear the neighing of the horses and the clanging of the armors, added to the cheers of the crowd, for whose manifestation there wasn't enough water.
A powerful and enthusiastic voice emerged from the conical column that rose from the center of the fountain.
"And here we are, from exotic Lemuria, in the quarterfinals of the spring jousting tournament. Last year's runner-up, Sir Sigfrido, doesn't seem to be in his best form lately. Rumors attribute it to family problems with his brother-in-law, Gunther of Burgundy. Which is an advantage for this year's favorite, Sir Gawain, who we see sporting a belt that's the subject of juicy rumors."
Most of the patrons crowded around the fountain, pretending more interest than they actually felt as they watched the water riders prepare for the first charge. To boost the mood, they started placing bets and commenting on the qualities of the contestants. In reality, they understood little of what they were saying, but anything was worth trying to save their skins in those moments.
Chad, still stuck to the window, struggled to make a decision. He didn't want to make things worse for his uncle, but he couldn't just stay there and watch what was about to happen. He had to do something, he knew. But something effective. And the noisy movements of Sam inside the chimney weren't helping him to think. Especially as they became more and more violent.
A sound at the bar made him glance sideways, only to discover the little man crouched on it. He was licking an empty bowl of stew, taking advantage of the commotion while casting furtive glances at the transmission of the joust. Chad thought about throwing something at him when he realized that if Sam was there, then something else was moving in the chimney.
"Dangerous matters? The only dangerous matter here is the lack of ingredients. The king should provide better for his subjects," Wilbur counterattacked.
"Yes, Wilbur can't do much with what little we have. If it weren't for him, you would have lost half your slaves by now," Mary Jo said, positioning herself on the other side of Wilbur.
"Oh, how cute," Zoltan said, rolling his eyes. "The supportive partner. Why don't you two just get married, lovebirds?"
"That's a good question," Mary Jo said, crossing her arms and looking at Wilbur inquisitively. "Answer him, Wilbur."
The innkeeper began to sweat, adjusting his shirt collar, truly nervous for the first time that day. Sam and Floyd took a few steps back to distance themselves from him, and even some tomatoes seemed uncomfortable being in the middle of that discussion, suddenly whistling or looking away. Especially when they saw how determined the woman seemed to get an answer to that question.
"Eh?... What...? Well... I."
"I really didn't want to get into this rabbit hole," Zoltan murmured uncomfortably to the tomato he was standing on.
There was an explosion of screams inside the inn that made the four humans spin around on their heels. But they couldn't run to see what was happening because several tomatoes had planted themselves between them and the building.
"Saved by the bell," Zoltan said relieved.
Through the door appeared Chad, with five tomatoes of different kinds and colors on his shoulders and head. They were Zoltan's trusted ones, and also his brothers, the gang of five. Sliding down the chimney, they had taken the young man by surprise and now carried him as a prisoner towards their leader.
"Chad!" Wilbur shouted before being restrained by a cautious Sam, the tailor.
"Good job, guys. Everything according to plan," Zoltan congratulated.
The hostage was placed next to the captain of the guard, who examined him from head to toe with a mocking smile. An expression that had formed on the faces of all the mutant fruits. The four humans were paralyzed, unsure how to react to such an act of cowardice. And the same applied to the rest of the people present. No one would dare to do anything that could harm the young Chad; he was the only one in the village who knew how to connect the VCR to the wish fountain.
"What do you plan to do with him, you miserable wretch?!" Wilbur shouted.
"Nothing. As long as you cooperate. There's too much work to be done in the mines, and since you have free time to talk about 'funny' things, it seems you could use a Little of... extra motivation."
A large tomato standing behind Chad opened its jaws and swallowed the young man whole, without giving him a chance to react. There were screams of horror and some people fainted, but none as heart-wrenching as Wilbur's scream.
"Chad!"
"Calm down, Finletter," Zoltan said, maintaining a cold and professional calm typical of a 90s villain. "Don't bite off more than we can chew."
When Wilbur understood the meaning of these words, his face lost all color as his gaze lost itself in the swollen mouth of the tomato that held his nephew captive. Against his rebellious spirit, he got down on his knees and raised his hands in a sign of submission. He was willing to die fighting, but this wouldn't be a fight.
If it were a battlefield, he might have even taken pride in his nephew meeting his end fighting. But this in fron of him would have been a mere and cruel execution.
"I'll do whatever you want... Just let the boy go."
"We will. After we take him to the king. As a guarantee that this is a sincere submission. But don't worry. He'll have company."
The helmeted tomatoes stepped aside to let pass a human figure wrapped in a green cloak. It was the body of a hunchbacked human; not a common hump, but one that seemed to move like a gigantic pimple full of liquid. And with a head that was a fat red sphere, barely larger than Zoltan, with a pair of black eyes, thick eyebrows, and a mustache of the same color. He wore a conical hat decorated with a large white feather.
"Luc Le Deville!" Floyd exclaimed, surprised, but mostly because he had gone a long time without saying anything.
This was one of the patrons of the inn that nobody paid much attention to. Mainly because when they saw his head and hump, everyone assumed he had some kind of uncomfortable medical condition and preferred not to discuss it. This made people act around him as if nothing was out of the ordinary, for fear of saying something that might be offensive. Or that it might start a discussion they didn't want to have, forcing them to ask if they could be of help. Besides, his body looked human and the tomatoes were round. There was no way he could be one of them, no matter how red his head was.
"C'est ça!" the "man" said with a triumphant smile and a thick french accent. "You villagers were deceived by this espion magnifique."
And with a movement, he shed his cloak to reveal an automaton body; made of wood and gears, and whose hump was actually the wind-up key that kept it functioning. This suddenly stopped, and the thing that came from a steampunk tale fell inert to the ground. Not before Luc Le Deville jumped onto the tomato that held Chad inside its mouth.
"And as a d'adieu present, let me give you a little concert."
A tendril slid out from his hat, bringing a flute that he placed on his lips. He began to play an irritating melody that forced several people to cover their ears and clench their teeth. The notes rose into the air and began to wander through the village, playing in the streets and between houses. They burst through windows or knocked down doors. But despite the off-key tune, this was not a physical torture, but an emotional one.
And that's what the villagers understood when they saw their little children coming out of their houses. They walked with a lost gaze and their mouths open, awkwardly repeating the melody that was calling them. They formed a line that marched behind the tomato carrying Luc, which began to bounce towards the castle.
Some parents tried to rush towards their children, but a wall of large, murderous fruits prevented them from getting close. Fists fell against the oppressors, but they didn't seem to harm the vicious creatures, which appeared to be amused by the futile resistance. Zoltan decided to intervene before someone tried to make things more complicated.
"Look closely. We have your children. So don't think about doing anything funny from now on, or Le Deville will put the idea of cliff diving into your kids' heads."
"Actually, mon capitaine," said the flute-playing tomato, interrupting his tune for a second, "the network said that was too intense for the épisode. At least, against the enfants who aren't main characters."
"What?! And you had to tell me now?! Alright, then... What can you do to them?"
The flautist made a gesture that was the equivalent of shrugging for a creature without shoulders.
" Well, I could make them curious about how babies happen”
Numerous screams of horror were heard among the crowd again, and more people fainted. The man who had eaten stew using his hand as a spoon took a step forward.
"You can't do that! I don't even know how they happen."
"Harry! What are you talking about? We have four kids," his wife intervened.
"Yes! And look at us! I don't understand how it happened."
The crowd murmured in agreement on the topic, unable to decide who was the ugly one and who was the uglier one in the marriage. And therefore unable to understand how they had had the stomach for having four babies.
"Seriously?" Zoltan asked incredulously. "This works as a threat for you? Pfff, humans."
With a snap of his tendrils, some of the tomatoes that formed the semicircle began to bounce behind the line of hypnotized children, while others remained there. The captain of the guard turned to look at the villagers from his position on the head of one of his soldiers.
“Remember, lots of work and no funny business. Unless you want to have The Talk."
Wilbur saw his enemies walking away with his nephew and the other children, and he began to clench his fists until they turned white. He was shaking like a tower about to collapse, and he couldn't even feel the encouragement his friends were trying to give him. Chad wasn't one of the little ones protected by the censorship imposed by the network, his situation was much more desperate than the others. And it was all his fault.
The Maxx Cartoon ended about halfway through the Julie storyarc in the comics but I've always been impressed with how the cartoon gave the audience a satisfying ending in the cartoon. #themaxx #mtvsoddities #samkeith #90cartoons #90scomics #imagecomics https://www.instagram.com/p/CT8qCeLMMh9/?utm_medium=tumblr
