#the mr lunch

[heckoffmate]

I just saw the AWESOME dhmis character family portraits and I am OBSESSED with this choice

[thebearme]

Art dump time!!

[edorazzi]

Page 10 of my Miraculous Mentor AU comic A Matter of Trust! In which Felix's first night out is interrupted by Paris' most fabulous, flamboyant, feathered foe! You didn't think Mr. Pigeon's 700+ akumatization streak started out with Hawk Moth, did you?! 🪽✨

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[leosulfurous]

It's June 2nd... and that means...

It's the 7th anniversary of The Most Goated Movie Ever!!!

happy birthday Captain Underpants: The First Epic Movie!! Have a cluttered page of doodles (it is 02:30 a.m.)

[t1oui]

albus calling draco "mr. malfoy" no matter how long they've known each other is canon to me so seeing it in fics makes me very happy lol

[thatsbelievable]

[darkrootmushies]

Merry alien christmas!

[hplonesomeart]

Would

(go to one of his theatrical broadway-wannabe concerts or perhaps a late night gameshow comedy hour sketch performance. I’m not too picky I’d be willing to pay money just to see him perform anything period)

Yea I felt like doing something silly in order to break away from the dread of finals week coming up. What can I say? I’m a professional procrastinator. But man oh man it was a good call this time around—I mean just look as this scrumptious masterpiece right here. Time well spent for sure. Genuinely I believe to have cooked with it chat /j

This is a version without the added stars by the way. And the second one is obviously just raw image reference/the original “bereal concert meme” source. I was very tempted to put Puzzles in that same exact outfit—however I decided it would be overly time consuming to make two separate versions. Maybe once finals are over I’ll be able to do that :)

[6ien]

yippie i'm done making this too but it's short and no sound and I'M SO TIRED AFTER MAKING THE MELVINBORG ANIMATION. and i drew this with CU art style cus my choice muehehehe it's not that good but ye

THEY'RE SO CUTE AND. AND. idk. i just love 'em both sm💛💛💛

ib: that one Simon and Betty scene in episode 8 from Fionna and Cake, ya know

[tyrianludaship]

It's always fascinating to compare Sniper's relationship with his parents in the 'Meet the Sniper' short with the comics. Personally, it's because of how it evolves from a brief mention to a sincerely satisfying character arc.

"I'll be honest with you. My parents do not care for it [it is him being a mercenary]."

In the short, it shows that either one or both of his parents disapprove of his decision to be a mercenary. Which no doubt, would cause strain in any relationship; regardless of the closeness. It doesn't particularly mean they're distant, however, as we see Sniper talking to his dad on the phone. (though it is shown via an argument).

I can argue that this was a subtle display that they both still cared about him enough to not completely cut him out of their lives, despite the understandable reason if they were to. I've seen some that suggest his parents might've disapproved of his mercenary work because they fear having to attend their son's funeral. Regardless of the reason, they kept contact with him, but their dynamic was strained.

Of course due to the short amount of time, this point was skimmed through and was fairly quick in pace. His complicated family issues were established and for a very long time, this was not explored until in 2014 with "Blood in the Water".

Sniper's specific arc in the comics revolves around wanting to find his birth parents after his adoptive parents passed away, or in his words; his "real parents."

Even in just the establishing scene with his birth parents, it already showed them mainly caring about themselves over the baby Sniper. And him ending up in the rocket that gave him safety was completely unintentional, as the two were bickering over who should use it.

By contrast, we see Mr. and Mrs. Mundy going to the crashed rocket and later implying to raise Mick as their own.

Throughout what we see of his birth parents, they're shown to be bumbling and drunken respectively; with neither really caring about each other. Let alone Sniper. Firstly in Bill-Bel's case, where he asks for money right after showing the rocket that ultimately saved Sniper's life.

And then in Lar-Nah's case, where she took the rocket to escape and abandoned both Bill-Bel and Sniper to potentially die as a result (excluding soldier and miss pauling).

Their presence doesn't have to be constant to infer that both of these characters are self-absorbed; only caring about oneself, anyone else be damned.

Despite the consistent displays of disrespect from both parents, Sniper still very much cares about them. Where he's completely willing to put his own life in jeopardy in order to get his dad to safety.

And to have that care be thrown in Sniper's face.

But despite even that, Sniper held hope and kept his expectation that he may potentially care in some capacity. He just wanted anything; any shred of assurance that his "real" parents cared about him. Something to call 'home' after his adoptive parents passed. Something to make this search for his ""real"" parents feel worth it.

You can see the genuine happiness on his face when under the impression that his dad came back; to save him. Only for it to dim when...

This part is not directly stated but after having his trust be disregarded multiple times by his ""real"" parents, he concluded one important thing: His adoptive parents are his real parents. He was their real son. He was a Mundy.

On top of that, it shows that his parents seem to develop as well. The disapproval, the arguing in the 'Meet the Sniper' short; is nowhere to be seen here. What we see are two parents that genuinely want the best for their son, even calling him a 'professional' and focusing on him staying alive rather than staying in heaven with them.

These were the exact words that Sniper needed to hear. There is no debate: Mr. and Mrs. Mundy are his parents.

I think his arc of finding his "real" parents already stood on its own but with the additional context that his relationship with his adoptive parents were tumultuous at best, it made the emotional impact of both, stronger in hindsight.

[silentcartoonist2018]

Chapter 7 sketches

[hue-makes-burgers]

returning post number two !

guys we should have a highschool um they should highschool. billy and harold should meet in highschool . this is my highschool au

here’s some of purple potty stuff, along with various other doodles on the second page

and i believe this is all of the rest! i love melvin in hack a week :)

harold

that is all for now :)

[screams-in-writing]

This starts out reading as a more horror-esque story, before Mr. Puzzles is found to just be bad at personal space and that phasing into one’s home is frowned upon (I think this is even longer than the other one I posted. I am having fun).

Your roommates were at their respective family homes, which left you all alone during a raging thunderstorm.  A storm that lit the house with flashes of intermittent lightning, rain coming down like a deluge, as if threatening to flood the very streets around the home.

In addition, the power had gone out not ten minutes ago, leaving you in the dark to hold onto a flashlight one of your roommates had stored in a kitchen drawer. It wasn’t the brightest shine, either, the path of the beam flickering itself, as if the battery were close to dying out. The subsequent dark of the house following the power outage, despite the light said flashlight produced, made you become acutely away of the ambient noises around you.

The basement door was ignored; you’d seen enough horror movies and games to avoid going down there like the plague. Even if you were all alone in the house, you were not going to let your mind get away from you by going to check out the electrical panel.

There was a slight thumping sound from the dining room, like someone had tripped. 

Nope.

You went in the opposite direction of the noise, and began to carefully go up the stairs, an unnerving feeling of being watched settling in.  The flashlight died not even three steps up. Propelled by spike of alarm that there could be someone behind you now that it was dark, you blindly raced up the stairs. Panic shot through you when you could have sworn you heard steps swiftly following up after you.

Nope. Nope nope nope.

The hallway wasn’t completely dark, thanks to a window from another room nearby that was open, allowing a vague outline to your closed bedroom door. 

Telling yourself you’d checked all the doors and windows before your roommates had left for the weekend, you slam your bedroom door open. Without missing a beat, you stumble to your bed and hid under the covers of the bed like you could keep yourself hidden from whatever you thought could have followed you upstairs. 

Creaking noises. 

Someone was walking?

No, that was just the siding of the house being hit with the sheets rain.

A shuffling noise.

Just the rain pelting the windows.

A thump sounded in the brief silence.

That…had came from underneath your bed.

You peer out from beneath the blanket to warily peer over the side of the bed. You were met with a sheepish expression with a multi-colored smile on a tv screen staring up at you.

“Hello, my-“

In a panic, because how could there be a television on under your bed, you abruptly tossed the blanket over the tv screen. In a burst of frenzied terror, you dropped down onto the tv on your knees with a thump, making a garbling noise emit from beneath you. Further terror seized you when a pair of arms reached out from beneath the bed to upend you. Scrambling to get to your feet, you are halted by a hand seizing one of your arms. With a scream of fear you’re pulled backward into a solid chest, arms around your waist as someone held you. 

A voice cut through the cacophony of rain and thunder, saying your name.

Confused, you still for just a moment, noticing the glow in the room that came from behind you. It illuminated a pair of legs on either side of you, which boxed in your upright if curled up form.  A pair of familiar legs in gray pants with puzzle patterns on it, ending with black and white dress shoes. Confusion rose as you glanced down and found arms covered in a white dress shirt, gloved hands twitching when your hands settled over them.

“Mr. Puzzles?”

“The one and only!” Said with gusto, if in an out of breath way.

Right.

You’d essentially landed your knees into his face, hard.

Wait.

“Why are you in my house?” You felt Mr. Puzzles’ hands fidget under yours. 

“Would you believe it is because I have nowhere else to go, when I am not at work with you or our…co-workers?” It sounded like Mr. Puzzles still wasn’t married to the idea that he needed to work with a team to get a show up and running.  Possibly because it wasn’t the kind of show he was used to, in that it was  podcast being taped or just audio, depending on the current money situation.

“And this brings you into my house, how?”

“…I remember where it was because it was the first place I appeared? And I wasn’t sure if a hotel would…let me in? Or if I let myself in, someone might be…very, very confused.” Mr. Puzzles offered, almost sheepishly. “And so…i may be able to do an eensy-weeny little thing-”

“Which is?” You cut in, before the man could go off on a tangent.

“…I used the old box tv still plugged into the basement and replaced it with myself before the power went out?”

So there was something to fear in the basement, though Mr. Puzzles was less terrifying than an actual burglar that might cause you harm. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t weird and rather intruding for this tv-headed man to just let himself into your and your roommates’ house.

“I take it that isn’t…done as much here, as where I’m from?” Mr. Puzzles asked into the silence, amid the storm raging on.

“No, it’s not.”

“I see.” 

An awkward silence reigned briefly.

“I could go to the basement and wait for the power to turn on, if my presence is truly troubling.” That sounded like it had come through gritted teeth; impressive, for someone with a screen for a face. Like he wanted to be in the company of someone but also acknowledging, reluctantly, that being in the home of an acquaintance-almost-friend without notice or approval wasn’t the best thing to happen.

“Why did you show up to begin with. Apart from not having a place to go?” You finally clue into leaning against the man and swiftly pull away, which Mr. Puzzles quickly allowed for as he rested against a nearby wall.

“Oh, right.” Gloved fingers fidget; Mr. Puzzles suddenly looked embarrassed, screen shifting as a frown appeared, droplets of sweat shown on one upper area of the screen. “I asked for everyone’s phone numbers, to stay in touch, you see. I must admit, I was so caught up in the idea of being involved in a show again-“ In a quieter, deeper grumbling tone, “Yet not even a host of it.” 

You stare at the man, who quickly ‘cleared’ his throat and continued on.

“Not that I’m not grateful for another chance.”Mr. Puzzles’ voice became clear and upbeat once more. “Why, the very thought held me in a chokehold of inspiration and it wasn’t until the end of the work day that I realized I’d forgotten to ask for your number.”

It was such an absurd thing that you had to laugh, which made Mr. Puzzles’ face shift to one as well as a laugh track mixed with his own.

“You do know you could have waited until tomorrow.” You said. “The storm is supposed to be gone by the morning.”

“You dont know why?” Mr. Puzzles reached out to grasp one of your hands.

Personal space, much?

“I wanted to thank my dear rescuer, who not only didn’t dump my prone head into a dumpster-“ Mr. Puzzles shuddered in apparent revulsion over the very idea. “But you also found me a place I could use a rather free rein of my creative expression at while getting back on my feet!”

“Free rein, meaning putting two of my arguing co-workers into your television head land or whatever while people thought they’d gone missing?” You ask dubiously as you take your hand back, though Mr. Puzzles had let go already to wave the hand dismissively.

“Schematics. One must make sacrifices for a good television show.”

“You sent one of them to therapy.” You deadpanned.

“To be fair, that fellow appeared to already be in need of such survives.” Mr. Puzzles shrugged in apparent indifference.

“Pot calling the kettle black.”

“I’m offended.” The man placed a hand over his chest, Mr. Puzzles’ screen face switching to a picture of a sat wet cat. “No one in this world could possibly handle the amount of therapy I would require, so I’m afraid coping will just have to be enough.”

“At least you’re honest about it.”

“I do try my best.” Cheerful and insincere. This man had a screw loose somewhere in that tv head of his.

A bright flash of lightning followed by a deafening rumble that shook the house.

You practically flung yourself at the nearest object for comfort, which happened to be Mr. Puzzles, who seemed confused by the sudden death-cling you held him in versus the conversation suddenly being interrupted.

“Not a fan of storms?” Mr. Puzzles asked eventually.

“What do you think?”

“…would you like me to play something for you?” Mr. Puzzles questioned in a softer tone than before.

“Like what?” You whispered.

“Well, that depends.” Mr. Puzzles tilted his head. “Would you want to watch or listen?”

“Listen.” You decided after a brief moment of thought.

“Any requests?”

Genuine. Curious.

“Nah, surprise me.”

A mistake, that.

If you hadn’t been in need of holding something alive and breathing for reassurance (how did Mr. Puzzles manage that, with his head being what it was) you might have tried to uselessly to smother the man with a pillow.

The asshole was playing a recording of the fitness gram pacer test, apparently quite happy to return the hug, as touch-starved and friendless as Mr. Puzzles made himself appear. But Mr. Puzzles redeemed himself some time later when he eventually switched over to a channel playing orchestral music that was loud enough that it dulled the noise of the storm, but not loud enough that you missed sound of something else. 

With your head leaning against his chest, you heard the thumping of a heart. This man’s body was a confusing mess; a tv for a head, yet his body gave in the way a human’s did, but at times, you wondered if he was robotic.  And if that was the case, were you hearing an actual heartbeat, or just the sound of one to make this impromptu holding one another for comfort in the dark less unnerving?

A thought to pursue another day.

[daisyjoyflower]

Human and Ghost versions

[booger-diaperlips]

It's kinda giving