#.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

[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

[jone3y]

why are u fruity??!!!?! 🤨

He was fruity first

🫵🏾

[foursidecity]

your art has like! Muppet shapes to me! The big hands and big feet and the flowy poses just make them feel so expressive and fun to look at. I also adore just how out there you can get with your art. Idk if it’s necessarily a trademark but u have a very interesting imagination and it’s awesome to see in your bigger pieces :—]

EHEHEHE... I've gotten the muppety comment ALOTTT and tbh I still dunno if I see it myself but I think it's silly n fun such a good compliment heehe... ALSO YEAHHH YEAH I like to try and experiment and try new things... esp when I see an aspect in diffrent art styles I like to dissect it and see why I like a certain coloring style or line style or shape :) it's very fun... oughh

[slushfaerie]

send this to ten other bloggers that you think are wonderful. keep the game going, make someone smile!!! ♡♡♡

sending right back to u hehe <33 ilysm

ily fawn thank u for always Getting me 🤍🙂‍↕️ mwah

[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

[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

[jone3y]

Do u allow like… minors to follow u….. i cant tell im kinda dumb 😭😭 me for example, I’m 17

Yes! and you’re completely fine , besides I appreciate you asking to make sure!!!!! 🥹🫶🏾

I want my spot to give vibes pretty much like heartstopper - if you know that graphic novel ; just boys being silly and in love as they get through life !! +Along with me gushing wanting to stay cozy in gaara’s arms.

[foursidecity]

i absolutely adore your artstyle and was wondering how you developed it! i genuinely love the expressions and colors you include into your works! i especially love the roundness :3!

Thank you! That's always a hard question: I'd say lots of practice and messing around!

Actually its only in the past year or so that I got comfortable picking my own colours by eye: I used to mess with overlays, gradients, and tone curve alot, but after awhile I've gotten pretty confident just eyeballing it and I don't need those tools as much anymore!

(I always reccomend people looking to improve their colours to use tonecurve over their basic colours and then colourpick from that and figure our where on the colour wheel those new colours are! You would be suprised how you can get a nice purple colour from somewhere on the green side if you adjust your hues appropriately, colour theories weird!

As for general shapes n stuff I studied alot of comics, storyboards/thumbnail art for a simple and quick way to draw lines because I like the flow of getting something down with as little lines as possible without thinking too hard, basically: shorthand drawing!

I also really like old disney style so I corporate that alot especially in how I draw legs/pants, clothing etc^^

[wonderkat11]

MAIL!!!!! (at Mailbox, screenshot REDRAW)

AAAH!!!!

Original from the Screenshot I took from: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3NI6chY6RcQ

Steve, Blue, and Mailbox belong to Blue's Clues (Nickelodeon).

[gamma-gal-24]

🐶 for whichever one you want!

Oh, thank you thank you!! ☺️

🐶 - "Pic of your f/o with an animal.

I couldn't pick just one, so I found one for several XD