#wholeome

[ghoulishnero]

Squeeeeeeeeeze!!! You've been given a hug! Send this to all the people who you think deserve a hug. Let the hugging begin! ♥

Aww thank you🥰🥰🥰

Hugs are always appreciated and welcomed. (Plus I kinda needed one)

Since I'm to lazy (and overwhelmed) to slide into people's inboxes, I'm just gonna tag everyone I can remember.

Sending hugs to; @star2fishmeg @simpforchuchu @insideliascrazyhead @tiredlittlewriter @rouzuchan @straysugzhpe @spookylightwhispers @xsweetelegantdisasterx and whoever else sees this.

[queen-scribbles]

2. "Give them a warm drink of your choice, what would it be? Would their choice differ from yours?" for Tavi, Adi, Kei, and Emiri?

Thank you! I would give all of them hot chocolate, I feel like they deserve it.

Adi would add marshmallows, Kei would prefer coffee(murkbrew), Tavi and Emiri are fine with it as is.

Wholesome OC Asks

[senditothemoonn]

Fighting the urge to write a ScotFra fic set during the Hundred Years War where Scotland is so very tender and France takes note of the big strong hands holding him and flirts with him and they're both so in love already.

Don't fight it anon!

I beg you 🥺 we need more content in this teeny little scotfra collective and this sounds like such a good fucking fic 😭

PLEASE ANOn we (i) need to read it 🥺

[mountain-in-springtime]

Love asks 🤍

Beloved, warmth, kind ✨

thank you for the ask my love!!

beloved: what do you love the most about yourself?

probably my creativity or sense of humor

warmth: what is your happy place?

i suppose just my childhood home. especially when i can be sitting at the fireplace during the winter or by the pool in the summer. i just like anywhere where i can feel comfortable and totally myself. (also this is very cheesy and dumb but disney world is also my happy place)

kind: what pokemon would you be?

i'm gonna be so fr and say that i never really watched pokemon much so i don't know a lot about the different ones, but imma go with bulbasaur bc those lil dudes are so cute

[yaboirezzy]

Now I'm just imagining 'The Magical World of Luna Nova Hills' au/crossover documentary narrated by David Attenborough, following the life of Rabbit! RGB Team and Charoix and all the other witches as rabbits

[angel-baby479]

Your blog is like pink/purple/blue neon lights and liquorice flavouring. Like a night club at the start of a good night. Watching movies at your friend's house eating shitty pizza and drinking cheap alcohol. Good vibes all around and I like it :3

okay i was going to respond in all caps but - like, this is just genuinely So Sweet And Wholeome?? i read this and melted im a puddle on the floor now like wow. I love this. that is all i want in life and i am legit so happy my blog gives u these good vibes <333333 tysmmmmm ;;

[nyyfever]

the pens' 2024 fan appreciation night festivities will forever be funny to me. really wholeome– but comedy gold

it's the way they were all FASCINATED by the t-shirts and had no clue what the hell was going on

poor potash was herding cats trying to do the "shirt off our backs" thing 😭

[meatballsu]

I like your wholeome uncle sans content! <3

Thanks! I’m so glad that you enjoy my work!

But please be aware of my tags. If I tag the sans x frisk I am pointing that it is a romantic relationship I’d like to show in the work. In case you didn’t like the ship cuz of age gap or something I think I should claim about this first 🥰.

[ur-fav-pet]

okay. need smthn wholeome to cheer me up.

[robotwhoisntamerican]

most wholeome thing ever 😭

this is a must watch this actress is so sweet and excited when she meets the crossword editor and knows so much about him and I think she's famous as well??? But she fangirls over him too

[aufredpratt]

now THIS is the kind of wholeome april fools day fun I'm more than ok with!

[julien5-malfunction]

Being any kind of h0rny is such a conflict to my inner order and values.

[Ramble fantasy about mental masochism and escapism and something like that aka I wanna be tied up and torn apart. (this isn't about sex) ]

The only way accept such states is when it has to do with masochismmm and I'm kinda having unmet needs or something, or well I do often but it has risen to the surface again.

Like then you think about stuff too vividly and it makes you twist inside, I wonder like, what would it be like IN REAL LIFE if a thought makes me squirm. Maybe the ppain on the heart would be gone finally, as these fantasies do include rather 'wholeome' and 'innocent' things happen to me, such as (1) having deep convertations that go on for ages and dissect ones soul and like really het in there an empty it out till there is nothing left to say about a topic it's such a mind fuck. It's a need.

And (2) getting my needs for physical touch met, I don't mean that in a sexual way as my orientation is asexual, but the skin starvation is real and it's wrecking me mentally. I see it as a resource to manage, like a bar to keep at a certain level to avoid pain. But the thing is, the resource is so rare. I just. Simply do not ask for a hug. I'm too discusting and uncomfortable in my own skin, I can't stand being touched, yet I crave it so fucking bad, it's so dumb. I rely on random encounters of accidental contact to get my fucking fix, it's just AAAGH. I just want to hug a dog or something and I need a good lenghty moment for that, I'm pretty sure things will get intense for me and the other party will pick up on that, if it's a human, and they'll get uncomfortable by that. Like, for some reason it's like my skin is full of sharp teeth and diagestive enzymes and it'll begun to dissolve them if I touch them, it's that bad, I'm that hungry and I wear a muzzle so I don't bite.

(3) other than, that I have the occational desire to be, first of all; in a way accepted and good enough for myself, as an requirement for this other scenario to be possibe. To be desireabe enough that someone will take an interest in me and actually want to be with me, accepting the excisting misalignments of my psysical and mental beings and best case scenario we become partners in crime. Best case scenario I'll be enough to fulfill their needs while staying withing my boundaries and vice versa.

Best fucking case scenario they're eaqually fucked up as I am and they agree to physically restrain me, tear me apart from the inside out and put it back together, like rip the mental bandaids off and clean the wounds of trauma and make me face my demons, verbally, not judgeing the sheer emotional teardown that's gonna cause in me, and I'll end un crying and my ego struggles and makes me shout back but you presist. Aknowlegement that I'm in hurting, that I'm crying, but no judgement, no yelling. I'm allowed to be in pieces on the floor, I wouldn't need to feel fear of being judged for it. And you'll have to sew it in place, some kind of 'self worth' like an organ that I'm missing, install it there like mechanical heart. Shoveing it down my throat like pills won't work, many have tried. You'll have to get your hands dirty and manually put it there. Suture me back together, maybe just once, hold me, bleeding from the seams and let me, FOR ONCE cry on someones shoulder, with no shame or guilt.

And time passes by and the sutures dissolve. The cuts grow new tissue and join. I would have gone much more quiet by then. There was no more pain to complain about. And you'll observe the ever so slight smile and ambient peace in the moments I'm quiet and thinking about the past, guestioning that, maybe, just MAYBE I'm deserving of nice things and maybe I'm deserveing of kindness and happyness and peace and don't need to feel guilty and ashamed all the time. And I'll look at you in the eyes and you can see that the surgery was a success and the pain is gone.

I'll probably ask you if we should go to the store to get incredients so we can make something nice to eat and assemble a puzzle while it's cooking in the oven. We'll have a sleepover every once in a while but we both have our own lifes too that require resources so after a while I learn to become less clingy and I won't get in the way of that.

And ofc dabble in some light bdsm, bc I'm curious! and a fucking masochist! and I wanna get to an insane level of pain tolerance physically and mentally. I'd like to say it's somewhere above what I other people have let me understand as an avrage but really, it can't be measured, so my opinion of my experience is a valid metric here and I want it high.

It's a superpower really, I take pride in it.

I just. AAAAGH. i need it i need it i need it I need to prove myself i need it to feel good about myself i like the rush of endorphines i wanna get hooked on it aahh i wanna struggle, life is boring, my life is so boring, I need to feel something , i wanna feel decent about myself for a breif moment 👉👈 like GIVE ME A FUCKING CHANCE to prove myself, that I can manage it my mind won't break under pain and I'll smile and laugh about it because it makes the rest of my shitty fucking life seem like daisies and rainbows and I think can make it trough hell and I'll find out just for fun. And I'm tied down or whatever so I can't escape and you tell me it's useless to try but it just fuels me and I try and try and try and I won't quit until I escape and I laugh at you because I did and you didn't think I could

I think it would be

so gratifying

and I'd just remember that I did that and randomly just chuckle about it and grin bc

fuck yeah I did that, I'm like that.

...I'm like that. I'm something.

[thegoddamnfeels]

I'm deink rn so evry body who tumblr says is my mutual who I didn't realize might actually be a mutual, I'm sory and I love you

😘 (in a fun and sexy way

😙in a wholeoms way)

[luxflora]

also the kids in tfes are so. they're so wholeome and like. Good Kids. it's disturbing to me. and like are the transformers public knowledge in tfes or are they supposed to be just comics? bc coming from tfp, tfa with its highly-publicized bots is a huge adjustment. also are twitch and thrash like. legitimately babies? bc i was just drafting a post earlier about how the lack of mech babies/young mechs is actually one of the most interesting things to me about tf overall, especially because it's not an accident but it's not something that actually gets talked about. the mech life cycle(?) in tf is actually fascinating to me for so many reasons. so if twitch and thrash ARE legitimately babies i'm gonna be fuckin thrilled. having a rough time getting through that first episode though

[fluffygif]

Louie 🐺 + Rio 🐯

[highqueenofprydain]

Red and Gold

“Does it bother you,” she asks, “killing things?”

Coll’s hands, busy scraping the fat from the deer hide stretched across the frame before him, slow to a somber pause. In silence, she waits, sensing something heavy and bleak in his stillness. “Aye,” he sighs at last, in a voice like gravel. “Aye, cariad, it does. I take no pleasure in it.” 

She reaches out her hand - strong and sun-gilded for the first time in her memory - and touches the golden-brown fur at the edge of the hide. It is silky but not soft; the winter undercoat pushes out the prickling outer hairs into a standing-up stiffness, glittering in the fading light of the smoky afternoon. She thinks of Medwyn and his valley, and the fawn that had pushed its velvet nose beneath her palm, and pulls her hand away abruptly, as though her fingers stung. 

“We could just eat turnips,” she offers sadly, a counter to the justification no one had spoken. 

Coll smiles a little, his sinewy brown hands at work again; Coll’s hands are never still for long. “You’ll get plenty tired of turnips before Spring,” he says wryly, “and cabbages and beans, hearty as they are, won’t fill your belly through a long winter, nor would there be enough for all of us. Meat we must have, at least a little, whatever, to weather the snow. And leather for shoes and caps, fur to warm your hands and ears, and tallow for candles and lamps.”

“I suppose,” she sighs, and returns to her own work: braiding the long stems of bright oak leaves together, into garlands for harvest cheer. They fill her lap like a pool of ragged fire, scarlet and crimson and gold, parchment-thin, cool in her hands. “Medwyn got along without all that, though, somehow,” she remembers, thoughtfully.

Coll grunts, and glances up at her wryly. “Maybe he did. But what do those wolves of his eat, d’y’reckon?” 

She opens her mouth in surprise and closes it again, considering. He chuckles, “You see? But he doesn’t hold it against them. He loves his beasts for what they are. We, also, are what we are.” 

She stares at the toes of her soft suede boots, stuffed with wool. Warm against the chilled air, she wriggles her feet inside them, thinking. “It’s a shame it can’t all be like wool, though, isn’t it? Or like milk and eggs, taken without harming anything.”

“Aye,” he rumbles again, “but such is the way of it. Life feeds on life. Even vegetables must die to be eaten.” He raises his gaze toward the garden plot, looking fondly upon the fallow rows, resting now. “As every living thing, one day, returns to the earth. And so we give life to others in our turn.” 

She thinks, unwittingly, of grinning white bone, and clawed fingers crumbling to dust around a sword pommel. “Not all of us,” she whispers, shivering. 

Warm brown eyes flick up quickly at her and then down again. His face is impassive, careful. “It’s how it should be, whatever,” he murmurs. “Not a cold barrow of stone, but a bed beneath a tree, if the world was at rights. I could sleep well, out there.” He nods towards the edge of the woods, where, she knows, others, precious to him, sleep already. “But it’s not given most of us to choose.” He shrugs, resigned, and continues his work.

She pulls another leaf stem through the braid and gazes out at the trees: a smudged line of glorious colors running together, a flaming banner streaked by lingering threads of clinging green. “I don’t like thinking about it,” she says slowly. “What do you think happens to us? After?”

“Oof,” he sighs, “that’s a question for Dallben, not for one such as I, whatever.”

“I already asked him,” she says, with a touch of acerbity. “He said it’s not for us to know, and trailed off into I don’t even know what-all about eternal mysteries and the energy of the universe.” All she had wanted to know was if Achren were really dead, and if there were any way of finding out, but Dallben had moved the topic elsewhere before she could get around to admitting her fears. “I don��t think even he knows, really.”

Coll’s shoulders twitch with the force of a rough chuckle, and he shakes his head. “Well, I suppose that may be a fence even his vine won’t climb.” He sticks his knife’s point into a nearby log, wipes off his hands, and picks up the end of a garland to admire it. “Here’s what I do know, cariad. Every year these leaves burn to gold, like all the light of summer blazing out of them one last time before they fall, and a beautiful death it is. And next spring, as sure as the sun rises, from every twig will come a new green leaf in place of the one that fell, and more besides. Where the seed falls, there the sprout rises, and life follows death in a circle, always, all things made over new. If that is how the earth makes and remakes its fruit, why should it be any different for us? Eh?”

He rarely makes such a long speech, and she looks at him in wonder, at his creased, open, honest face, his crinkled dark eyes as peaceful as the earth. No, the thought of returning to earth does not disturb him, not Coll; he is already such a part of it that death should be no more than stepping into the door of a home he’s loved for years. 

She is comforted, but not so resigned.

“I wish we knew for certain,” she sighs. “I wish I knew that…that my parents might be waiting for me, just on the other side, you know. That they could tell me if they were.” 

There’s a quaver in her voice, and she hates it, hates how it makes her feel small and alone, and she looks down quickly at the leaves in her lap, and braids feverishly for a few minutes, swallowing whatever it is trying to come up in her throat, blinking away the traitorous welling in her eyes. Coll is silent, settled like a tree, though from the corner of her eye she sees his hands moving. 

Then the garland rustles and he leans toward her, his arms raised. She looks up in surprise just as he settles the red-gold leaves, wound into a circlet, upon her head. He sits back, smiling, at the effect, and murmurs, “Proper crown for our princess.” His voice is a low growl like a bear’s, rough with emotion. “Suits you better than cold metal, whatever.” 

Her heart swells. It’s an answer - not to her impossible wish, but to something else, something she needs more, maybe, just now, than knowing the unknowable, and she hiccups and smiles back at him, a wavering and watery smile, full of unspoken belonging. 

“I always liked autumn,” she admits, “even though it seemed like I shouldn’t. When all it meant was that winter was coming.”

“But that’s not all it means,” he counters, twining a garland around his own bald head. It slips down around his neck, a collar of bright ruffles and spikes, and she giggles. He grins broadly. “It’s a reminder that there’s beauty even in endings. That what goes away comes back again.” With a grunt, he leans forward, and rises to his feet, taking up the deerskin. “Time to go salt this. Need more leaves?” 

“Yes,” she says, “but I’ll get them. I like gathering them up. It feels like treasure-hunting.” 

He sighs quietly, and places a warm hand on the top of her head, very briefly, as he steps past her. “Aye, the land provides treasure enough if you know where to look. And sometimes it shows up on its own when you never expected it.” 

She glances up at him, at his sweet and affectionate smile, and he winks and walks away, whistling, into the smoky air. She squints, until his bronze jacket and rust-colored breeches and leather cap are lost against the browns and reds and ochres of the orchard beyond.