#.mailtime

[haasdaagen]

@otterfool honestly same, I eat up those comps like candy and this video had so many good moments

like this? this is just me and my brothers fighting for the last functional xbox controller

[slushfaerie]

plz write like a small blurb or fic if you want.. about cockwarming with art, hes like a lil puppy pelasessess

fem!reader x puppy!art - wc: 481 - nsfw, tw: pet play

ohhh sweet puppy art. 

you’ve had a long day with a long list of to-dos and he’s springing into action as soon as he hears your keys in the lock, pouncing on you as you’re walking in. presses wet kisses all over your face, wrapping himself around you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and staying there. he missed you :((

refuses to leave your side even for a second as you’re changing into something more comfortable. begs you with a silent nudge to hold him close and warm by your side as you order takeout for you both to enjoy and pour something to drink to wind down.

and there's something about the attention that he's giving you. it's coaxing the weight of the day to melt off your shoulders, how precious and doting he's being. how he looks up at you with those sweet eyes of his, the singular fixture in his head is you. 

later that night, you turn on something mindless on tv and lie down on the couch, pulling him into your arms. art settles into your embrace like he’s starved for you (he is).

he’s already squirming and panting heavily as you run your hands over him, tugging his shirt over his head. you can already feel the damp spot on his boxers as he begins to rut against you, friction leaving you breathless as he kisses everywhere he can reach. 

"been such a good boy." you say between gentle gasps. "why don't you stay inside as long as you want, baby?" art shudders.

he can’t hold back the whimper he lets out as he processes your words. you reach down to the elastic of his boxers, freeing his cock before rubbing it over the slit of your cunt through your panties, his pre-cum mixing with your own arousal. 

you allow him to finally rid you of your panties and put just the tip of him inside you. art's mouth falls open as he pushes inside you fully, whining against your neck. a moan of your own escapes your lips, hands full of angel curls as you soothe him. 

he struggles at first not to squirm or rush into it. does his best to take his time ridding you of your shirt, kissing your neck and collarbones. drools and runs his tongue all over your nipples before taking them into his mouth, one at a time.

but he can't help himself. he cums with a mewl as feels you fluttering around him, so warm and wet and perfect. heaven feels like you, he’s convinced. 

art collapses into your arms, gently panting against your neck as he catches his breath, still buried to the hilt inside of you. he has no plans of pulling out or leaving your arms anytime soon. 

he falls asleep clinging to you, exactly where he wants to be <33

[foursidecity]

YOUR ROBY WITH MOBILITY AIDS IS EVERYTHING

But no really there is no way your body goes through all that without having to use something to help you to day to day life ( hell to be compelety 100% free from any kind of long term issues with illness )

Anyways I won't yap anymore amazing art ❤️❤️

RIGHTTR it always annoys me when theirs some 'magical cure' like man.. your body needs to recover... and it's simmilar to scars in that that damage will kind of stay even after.... ahh but thank you!!

[agoldengalaxy]

🤒 Needing to be looked after

Charthur, with Charles as the "man down" this time?

emoji drabble prompts

—

Arthur first noticed it when they were walking into town. Charles was slow, unsteady, a stark contrast to his usual purposeful, graceful steps. When asked, he simply waved a hand dismissively, which was so like him that Arthur almost wanted to drop it.

Almost.

Instead, he stopped walking, folding his arms over his chest and tilting his head expectantly. “You sure you’re feelin’ alright?”

Charles sighed softly, turning around to face him. “Arthur, it’s just a supply run. I’m fine.”

“You ain’t look fine.” He took a step closer, giving the other man a quick once-over. Perhaps it was the trick of the afternoon sun, but Charles looked quite pale, his shoulders sagging with a seemingly invisible weight. “You might be able to hide it from the others, Charles, but you can’t hide it from me. So, out with it.”

For a moment, it was a stare-down, dark eyes glaring at blue, until Charles finally scoffed, breaking the eye contact to turn back around, perhaps so Arthur couldn’t see his face. “I’m just feeling a little sick, ‘s all. You don’t gotta worry about me.”

Arthur squinted, remembering how nonchalant Charles had been each time he’d gotten injured in some way or another. He always seemed to under react. “Think it’s too late for that.” Of course, he knew, if the roles were reversed, he wouldn’t be much better. So he wouldn’t agitate Charles further. He stepped up closer, and they walked side-by-side, with Arthur purposefully slowing his steps so that Charles could keep up.

Quite suddenly, Charles stopped in his tracks, his breaths coming a little shallower, as if it were a chore. He was blinking quickly, shaking his head as if it would rid him of whatever was ailing him.

“Charles? Charles, what’s wrong?” Arthur stopped too, stopping in front of him, trying to get a better look at his face and trying to push down his increasing panic. Much to his surprise, Charles swayed forward, right into his arms, almost completely dead weight. “H-Hey! Jesus, you’re…you’re burnin’ up…”

He was so hot that Arthur immediately felt a bead of sweat appear on his own brow. Trying to ignore how his own heart was beating, he pushed Charles backward a little, watching his head loll forward as he did so, his eyelids fluttering.

“Arthur,” he whispered, barely audible, “I don’t feel so good.”

“You ain’t look so good neither,” he murmured, wishing he was more than half-conscious so he could tell him he told him so. Keeping one hand on his shoulder to ground him, he lifted the other hand to his mouth, whistling for his horse as his adrenaline began to spike. Why was Charles so damn stubborn? Fevers weren’t something to take lightly.

A plethora of anxious what-ifs tugged at Arthur’s mind as his trusty Tennessee Walker trotted up to them. As gently as he could, he lifted Charles up onto the saddle and then followed suit, sitting behind Charles with his arms around him to support him. Charles leaned back against Arthur’s chest, his breaths still coming shallowly, frequent shivers wracking his body. Arthur yanked the reins, directing his horse to move as quickly as he could without jostling Charles too much.

They were barely to the edge of camp when Arthur roared, “Reverend!” He brought his horse toward the gate, glancing down at Charles. His eyes were still closed, but the look on his face was anything but peaceful. He was so hot that Arthur felt the need to shake him a little. “C’mon, Charles, hold on…”

After what seemed like hours, Swanson finally appeared, helping a semi-conscious Charles down off of the horse. Arthur hopped down, too, hiding his nerves the best he could as he helped Swanson carry Charles to his tent.

“Mr. Morgan, get the cool rag.”

“Is he gonna be alright, Reverend?”

“…Arthur, the rag.”

Wordlessly, he did what was asked of him, watching the rag be placed over Charles’ forehead, watching him force Charles to drink some water, watching him give him opium for the pain. It felt like days, but eventually, Swanson pulled away, turning to Arthur.

“Now we hope the fever goes away.” He placed a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, then quietly walked away.

Without really thinking about it, Arthur pulled up a nearby chair, sitting by Charles’ side. His face was still twisted in pain, but it seemed he was finally properly sleeping, breath coming in congested puffs through parted lips. His hair splayed out in all directions on the pillow, his hand and fingers twitching every so often.

If it weren’t for the fear that gripped Arthur’s heart, he might have let his thoughts wander about how handsome of a feller Charles was, even sick with fever. Perhaps the fear was a good thing, in that case.

Hours passed. No one really disturbed them. Arthur sat in silence, every so often replacing the cool rag over Charles’ forehead. It was dark when Charles brows furrowed, awaking with a cough that seemed to reverberate in Arthur’s brain.

“Easy, now,” Arthur huffed, grabbing the nearby canteen. He held it gently to Charles’ lips, who drank as if he hadn’t drank in days.

When he finally pulled back, nearly gasping for air, he murmured, “What happened?”

“You collapsed in Valentine,” Arthur answered, capping the canteen to place it back down. “Been sleepin’ ever since. Seems you gotta nasty fever.”

Charles’ eyes fluttered closed for a moment, and when he opened them again he had a guilty look on his face. “I’m sorry.”

Waving a hand dismissively, Arthur leaned back in his seat a little. “I’m just glad you’re alive to tell the tale. For a minute there I wasn’t sure.”

Charles was quiet for a moment, looking up at Arthur as if he’d hung the stars themselves. “Have you been here with me this whole time?”

“Well…” Arthur rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Didn’t want you wakin’ up alone, an’ all that…” To busy himself, he took the rag from Charles’ forehead, dipping it into the bucket of water, and gently placed it back. “Somebody’s gotta make sure that fever of yours goes down, and it ain’t gonna be Swanson.”

A small, rare smile pulled at Charles’ lips. “Thank you, Arthur.”

“‘Course.”

For a moment, their eyes lingered on each other, and they each broke the gaze at the same time. Arthur felt hot all over, as if he was the one who had the fever. He decided not to think about it.

They both talked for a while longer until Charles fell asleep again, and Arthur took care of him through the night, gladly sacrificing his own sleep for his. It was common sense.

He’d do anything for him.

[kittydragondraws]

lesnit

[itsreaditandwow2]

Searching for penis. I did not want to search for that.

Ian Hecox

[geolyte]

tell me everything you want to talk about lilith... i would love to know your thoughts (i like absorbing isaac information / analysis + you seem really cool in general :-) )

HI HELLO THANK YOU FOR ENABLING ME. i was going to make art for this but i dont really have the energy to so im just gonna start yapping hopefully thats ok. as a warning most of this is like... an interpretation of the characters as their own person type of thing; it's a little easier for me to talk about them in that way since i'm more used to it but i definitely have thoughts about how she fits into the facets of isaac as a character (also I have a headache and am more than a little tired while I'm writing so um. fair warning)

lilith's one of the older kids. she has a good head on her shoulders for her age, mostly because she has to– there's a whole lot of reasons why but most of it boils down to her being forced to grow up faster than she wanted to. she doesn't show it much, if at all, but part of her really just wants to be a kid again sometimes; and she doesn't want to give herself that grace because she feels like she doesn't have the time or energy to spare for it.

a lot of her character sort of ties into the theme of disability/chronic illness and the guilt that can surround those things for me. Lilith doesn't like being sick. she doesn't like having her eyes gouged outta her skull either. but it's not like she can just... opt out of being sick or injured or having a horrible curse or any combination of the three. that's one thing she understands very well. it's practically burnt into her brain at this point.

despite her, uh, injuries, she's still fairly perceptive. she picks up on things– about herself, about other people– that'd normally take a while to parse. she's fairly independent and can do a lot of things without any help— but inky still helps a lot. she appreciates the company. the type of person where you can hear her light up the moment she starts talking about something that makes her happy. little headcanon i have that's semi related– i think she used to collect cool/pretty rocks before she lost her eyes and still has some of them around as keepsakes

wow. that was a lot. and we haven't even gotten to the spec bio yet. that will probably be its own post though i don't think i could even begin to word any of that coherently before i pass out

[gamma-gal-24]

Backtrack-

Lord F a r q u a d?

HE'S CUTE ADMIT IT

[smoshmonker]

Mailtime with Smosh or Smosh Pit Theater? (i know they have nothing to do with each other but shhhh)

anonymous asked: Smosh Pit Theater or Mailtime with Smosh

mailtime is nostalgic, but i have been having an absolute blast watching smosh pit theater. i hope they continue these soon <3

x x x x x x

+ bonus ian wishing he could disappear into the couch

ask me smosh this or that’s!

[psychedelic-charm]

In response to Nathan's question at the end, sometimes I think it's best not to know the truth.

[haasdaagen]

same anon as before, you're so right i forgot about that photoshoot (mans stole my heterosexuality away with that one 😭)

i feel Spencer is catboy leaning, like if he wanted to he could for sure BE catboy but he's just not there yet.

Noah is dogboy leaning but i can't explain it, and so is Keith but in a chihuahua kind of way.

you're so so valid about that photoshoot it reawoke something in me when I saw it istg

All of those line up perfectly with what I had in my head, Spencer gives off subtle catboy energy but if the cat in question was Garfield or something (absolutely a positive thing)

I also added Tommy in at equilibrium (whenever I think of Spencer I also think of Tommy), cause he could lean either way and fit perfectly

[slushfaerie]

FREE THE ARTUR THIRST THOUGHTS!!!!!!

thank you for enabling me anon bby <33 i love thinking about this man

something that really makes me feel wild about Arthur as a character is how he shape shifts in different situations + with the different people he's around.

we see how grouchy he is when he's sick, the anger when he thought his artifacts were missing. his assimilation into the acts of graverobbing/general group rowdiness with the tombaroli, the way that softens with Italia, and of course, the tenderness of that ending scene that really helps paint a picture of why he's done what he's done all along.

all that to say, in my head, the word that comes to mind to describe Arthur as a lover is reverent.

he runs his hands over your body like you're something precious, forehead pressed to yours as he fucks you. he takes his time and wants you to feel all of him.

he cups your face with his hand, caressing your cheek with his thumbs with a tenderness that almost feels mismatched with the way he's taking you.

he loves it when you run a delicate hand through his hair and turns to kiss your palm when you caress his own cheek.

he pins you down under him, not even so much as a show of dominance, but as a means of keeping you as close as humanly possible. you can feel the scruff of his beard as he whispers or even groans into your ear.

he fucks as if he's afraid you'll disappear, when in reality, if someone were to be gone by morning, it would probably be him.

[foursidecity]

LOTTYYYYY final eps of win or lose how are we feeling what r your thoughts. <just finished watching

HIII OTTTOOO I loved them so much they were so fun!!!!!!!

I was so excited to see kais story play out too... ofc I'm sad it wasn't the trans storyline they had first drafted but a pressure based storyline with gender-queer elements is rhe next best thing! I loved the aha- mind the pun- scene transitions when she goes from being the new kid with a baggy hoodie and cropped hair, to being very brightly colored, longer hair in a ponytail, wearing silly outfits and having fun... it was so good... and her animation motif of flying/sinking... and the baseball/softball transition metaphor. SO GOOD also loved her family dynamic etc etc

I REALLLLYY liked how they stitched everything in the end all together too... coach Dan's #1 fan he's so silly he just wants the kids to have a good time playing softball ok...I liked the ballooning out of control visual motif also AGHH the animation in this show was brilliant...cheers and claps

[agoldengalaxy]

🥰🫂 dealers choice for the fandom 👍

emoji drabble prompts

🥰- saying ‘I love you’ without saying it

🫂- comforting hugs

—

It was early morning on the Stan o’ War II, early enough that only the beginning of a foggy dawn peeked through the ship’s windows. Stan was leaning in the doorway of the kitchen, his arms folded over his chest as he watched Ford pore over a myriad of papers spread across the counter, a half-empty mug beside him, forgotten.

“You don’t look so good, Sixer,” Stan finally said, making Ford jump, his head whipping around to look over at him. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Oh. Stan,” he breathed, “you startled me.”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “And you didn’t answer the question.”

Ford’s eyes were somewhat bloodshot, his hair a wild mess, sticking out in every direction, which Stan knew was due to the way he’d run his fingers through it. “For a little while,” he replied after a much too long pause, then waved his hand dismissively into a gesture toward the pages. “But look! I think I’ve finally figured out a way for us to defeat that kraken!”

Sighing quietly, Stan stepped forward, peering over his brother’s shoulder at the mess of equations and possible machinery and weaponry ideas. “That’s good and all, but have you even looked at yourself?”

Ford faltered. “What, do I have something on my face?”

“No, you knucklehead. You’re…I dunno, all mad scientist-y. It happens when you don’t sleep.”

Dropping his gaze, Ford simply shrugged, pulling his papers all together again, gently tapping the edges on the counter so they’d be in a neat pile. “I’ll be fine. You worry too much.”

“I think I worry the right amount,” Stan huffed. “Now are you gonna tell me what’s wrong, or am I gonna haul your ass to bed myself?”

Ford worried at his bottom lip, still refusing to look Stan in the eye. “I’m…” He sighed, seemingly struggling with the words, for once. “I don’t like sleeping.”

Stan raised a brow. “Yeah, I coulda guessed that.”

“It’s…you don’t understand.”

The words hung in the air for a moment. Stan knew he could get frustrated here, and perhaps he would have done exactly that a few months ago. Instead, he nodded. “I don’t. So tell me.”

Ford seemed caught off guard by that. His brows knit together, and he fiddled with his fingers, seemingly choosing his words carefully as he always did. “Before the portal, Bill would take over my mind while I was sleeping. He’d take my body and punish it when I tried to stop him.” A shiver ran down his spine, as if he were remembering something particularly unpleasant. He continued, “And…I was alone in those dimensions for so long. I couldn’t trust anyone. I wasn’t sure where was safe and where wasn’t safe.”

Feeling his mouth go dry, Stan shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Ford, you’re…you’re safe here.”

“I know.” He sighed quietly, finally displaying the weight of his exhaustion on his face. “But for half of my life, I’ve been afraid of sleeping. It’s not a habit so easily forgotten.”

Stan wasn’t sure what came over him, but the next moment, he had leaned forward, enveloping Ford in a tight hug. Ford stiffened beneath the embrace for a second before allowing himself to relax and return it.

“I’m sorry,” Stan mumbled. “Didn’t realize it was that bad.”

Ford chuckled quietly, slightly muffled into Stan’s shoulder. “Well, there’s a reason I kept it all to myself.”

Pulling back, Stan looked into his brother’s eyes; tired, red-rimmed, quietly sad. “C’mon. Up, away from the kitchen,” he insisted, practically pulling him up. “You’ve been sitting here too long. Let’s watch something.”

“But, Stan, what about the kraken -”

“The kraken can circle us for one more day. Who cares. I’ll punch it in the eye again if I have to.” He dragged Ford toward their couch, sitting him down, and grabbed the two blankets that were left folded on the side. He ignored the protests and placed one over Ford’s shoulders, the other on his lap, and then closed the curtains, making it slightly dark. He sat beside him and picked up the remote, flicking through channels until he saw a channel that looked somewhat relaxing.

“Heh. You remind me of Mom right now,” Ford murmured. “Remember what she used to do when we got sick?”

Stan blinked, realizing he must have done it subconsciously. “Yeah. Wrap us in blankets and watch reruns.”

After a quiet yawn, Ford smiled slightly. “Your memory really is getting better.”

Returning the smile, Stan shook his head. “Only ‘cause you helped me, Poindexter.”

For a long few minutes, the only sound in the room was the quiet dialogue on the television. When Stan looked over at Ford, he found him finally sleeping, his face relaxed, his mouth wide open. Stan smiled to himself, lowered the television’s volume, and made himself comfortable.

He wasn’t going anywhere. Ford was safe with him.

[kittydragondraws]

I don’t trust glitch or Liam. They are plotting some thing. I don’t think it’s a season two I think it’s something much more evil much more evil.

yeeaaah

[itsreaditandwow2]

It's Barber Shop Pole, travellin' through time, and f**kin' your women.

Anthony Padilla