#wholesome idea

[intergalacticmuffinman]

I want a show based off of James And The Giant Peach that’s about all the bugs trying to raise James inside their little peach pit house after their grand adventure

Mr. Grasshopper home schools James, and they go to museums and poetry reading and musical preformances with Miss Spider who both encourage him to make his own

Miss Ladybug takes him on walks through Central Park and they garden together with Mr. Worm, cause no one knows dirt better than him

I imagine Mr. Centipede acts as more of a fun uncle than anything- he’s the one who takes James to places a kid probably shouldn’t go but is responsible enough to know when to dip, and he definitely takes James to his first baseball game at Yankee Stadium

And I imagine James just sits and relaxes with the Glow Worm, maybe talks to her about stuff that troubles him, and even if she can’t hear very well he continuously claims she’s the best listener in the house

[kaiserouo]

bullshitting the prompt took way longer than i thought

[oh-gh0st]

i heart these rivals so much. maybe they'll kill each other. maybe they'll kiss. maybe they'll make ou

[eggdrawsthings]

>:p

[vor-leser]

"AM provided punk and we burned it, sitting huddled around the wan and pathetic fire, telling stories to keep Benny from crying in his permanent night."

[vebokki]

do you ever wonder how often binghe created a dreamscape to see sqq when he was in the abyss? and how often he was abruptly waken up by hunger, wounds, or terrifying sounds and had to start all over again?

[draw-the-squad-like-this]

Draw your otp <3

[musubiki]

.🖤🔄🤍.

[cosmicinkstudios]

⭐️ Funfetti Sheep! 🧁🐑

[larabar]

sibling generations

[madbard]

Headcanon that Dust absolutely resents how much he resembles Classic. There are elements of this back in Dusttale, with how Dust prefers to hide his face and identity while building his LV, but this is more out of practicality (and even shame) than anything else. He doesn’t want his victims to recognize him because it’ll make it harder for him to sneak up on people, and a part of him really doesn’t want them to know that he was the one who killed him. The longer this goes on, the more his disguise transforms from a way of hiding his shame to a way of distancing himself from who he used to be. Sans would never kill all those people, but he isn’t Sans anymore. He’s not really a person anymore, he is the act of murder itself. He is Dust.

I think this would get way worse when Dust leaves his AU and enters the multiverse though, because right off the bat he encounters murderers, just like him… who don’t look innocent. Horror, Killer and even Cross are set completely apart from who they used to be. They are scarred and twisted and nightmarish. Looking at them doesn’t trigger memories of a happier, innocent past. They have renamed themselves, taken on a new identity - but for them, this change was physical as well. No one will ever mistake them for Sans.

So Dust wears his hood. He hides his face. He keeps his magic burning constantly, because if he stops his eyes will darken and there will be nothing setting him apart from the monster who died, years ago, the first time a knife ripped through his chest. The others realize it, too… Horror probably wouldn’t care either way. Cross would understand the desire to distance oneself from an old identity, but would ultimately be in a similar boat as Horror. Killer would bring this up to taunt Dust once he realized it bothered him - and would quickly get bored with it. Ultimately, the others would just accept Dust’s refusal to show his face, his hatred of his own voice and reflection, as part of who he is.

I like to imagine that one day, the gang get into a serious combat. It’s vicious and close; both sides are bloody and exhausted by the time it’s over. If one side wins, it’s by a hair, and not much of a victory. In the dazed silence following the battle, Nightmare slowly assesses each of his acolytes, ensuring that they are still alive and intact. When he reaches Dust, he pauses. The assassin is bloodied, slumped over. His HP is steady but low; he’s taken a lot of hits - more than most monsters would have been able to survive. His hand vanishes beneath his hood, carefully inspecting his face. That night, back at the castle, Dust steps in front of a mirror. He takes a deep breath and, for the first time in years, removes his hood to look his reflection in the eye. The combat left deep wounds across his face, injuries that would never heal completely, that would leave him permanently scarred.

Dust looks at his battered reflection and smiles.

[criiitter]

part 1 of turning minecraft items into ponies: grass block!

feel free to send me an ask for which one i do next!!

[faeriekit]

Snowdrift Sanctuary

a phic phight fill for sapphireshield (who isn't on tumblr)

“Is this alright?” Phantom asked quietly, blunt human face pressed into the ruff of his new coat.

There was nothing wrong, but that wasn’t the issue; the human needed reassurance, and reassurance Frostbite could provide.

“Of course,” Frostbite agreed easily, if gently. “Neuschnee made it for you. It was always intended to be yours.”

Humans tended to be sensory-seeking. With no fur of their own, and sensitive skin and hands, they had the ability to physically feel more through touch than his people could. The paw of Frostbite’s remaining arm was tough, callused from work and combat; but the human could swab his face across the ruff and sleeves of his coat and receive textural information that was entirely alien to the yeti mind.

Frostbite would have to ensure that the boy had gloves. It would be a shame if his hypersensitive hands were made damaged by the cold.

“...But,” the boy tried, and to his credit, his concern was sympathetic. “Wouldn’t someone else need the fur? Like, even if you have your own fur…wouldn’ it make a good blanket? Or…something…?”

Petting, for humans, thankfully, seemed to work exactly as it did for his kin. Sure, Frostbite had to be more gentle with his claws, but combing through and smoothing down the human’s black spot of hair was more than enough for the endorphins to kick in. Oxytocin, dopamine, and serotonin would require further study, but the base understanding of hormones were easy to understand: skin on skin contact equalled a well-adjusted human adolescent.

Phantom’s eyes drooped. Frostbite smiled to himself. The sight was identical to Salju’s cubs settling down before a nap.

“We are not low on resources,” Frostbite soothed, half-purring. It was an immature noise, but conducive to soothing distressed young. “We are not hungry. We are prosperous, and require little; as an adept living with our people, we would be remiss not to provide for you.”

…The human’s nose crinkled.

“It is our job to give you things so that you do not fade,” Frostbite clarified.

Phantom’s face flushed a warm red. The adolescent’s half-human biology was fascinating.

And, true, it would probably be easier to care for Phantom if he remained in his ghostly form all the time, but it would be unfair and dangerous for his long-term development to force him to do so. Phantom was a half-human, and deserved to spend time adjusting to all of his forms. Neuschnee had already begun working on the human’s boots; soon he would no longer be confined only to Frostbite’s warmed residence. With a thick hood and gloves to cover his extremities, Frostbite had little doubt that the human would soon be wrestling with (gentle) age-mates, practicing his English with his sister’s pilfered human texts, and learning how to control his snow.

Phantom was very small. He was very delicate, and there was an instinct in Frostbite that continued to worry that handling him wrong might snap the human in half. A yeti at Phantom’s height would still be a very young cub, and yet twice as sturdy and twice as broad.

Still, he was a bright, kind being, and… Frostbite sighed. And he had no understanding of why the human’s parents had rejected him for his current state.

And, certainly, his human sister had tried to explain it to him, bundled in three coats and her red nose weeping in the cold as she begged for his sanctuary. The prospect was merely mind-boggling to him. Young were rare and precious. Their natures were never guaranteed. What was the use of rejecting a cub you had spent a decade raising?

…Frostbite exhaled carefully out his nose. It was not his job to understand their attitude. It was only his role to act in their place until the half-human came of age.

“You don’t have to,” Phantom muttered, face a curious shade of red. Having red internal fluids made for interesting displays of emotion. “I…I can work it off, or…”

Frostbite continued petting the human. The human did not continue speaking.

“Or,” Frostbite continued kindly, “You may join Pritla, Nieve and I, and assist us in devouring a nice, cold, glacier shark. We buried it last season, so it is no longer toxic to digest outright.”

Phantom snorted out a laugh. Yes, there would be human-appropriate food available for him, but Frostbite was not joking about the shark. Now that the toxins had drained into the soil for months, he was happy to take his turn ripping huge chunks of flesh with his teeth for an evening meal. And, who knows; perhaps the enrichment value of consuming a fermented shark with one's bare hand would pique Phantom’s interest in other traditional foods?

“Will there be silverware?” Phantom asked, teasing. He accepted Frostbite’s proffered hug, engaging in sensory-seeking activity in the same way he had with his new coat. Frostbite was ecstatic.

“Of course not,” Frostbite rumbled, more than pleased. “Use of weaponry during mealtimes is explicitly cheating. Now, are you comfortable defending your plate from younger cubs, or should I shield you with my body?”

Frostbite might not have felt prepared to care for Phantom, but raising a half-human would undoubtedly be a fascinating experience.

Besides; unlike mortal parents, the burden of keeping Phantom alive was already largely moot.

[peatchoune]

(5/?) I have this one headcanon that xiao has a mechanical left arm 🦾

[arttsuka]

Some past fiddlestan? (Like Ford just went through the portal. He gone now. Past. Yk?)

The mystery misery yaoi

[cosmicwhoreo]

SO, I made my own tragic legendary sea cookie since that seems to be the theme for devsis in between comms-

Beneath the dark, forgotten waves of the west sea, amongst a once bustling and colorful coral forest is it's sleepy monarch; Grand Reef Cookie. A jolly, yet strangely complaisant individual who spends his frail, doddering years tending to the decaying remains of his children's once proud homeland.

They have all left, of course. Some more hesitant than others to leave their loving father's side. But, Grand Reef Cookie was insistent of their retreat. That, unlike him, they were not bound to their namesake in soul and body. That the ocean held much more plentiful and vibrant sights that were not to be wasted fretting over a forgotten relic of the past. That doesn't stop many from visiting though... Bringing with them trinkets and offerings to help alleviate his wistful loneliness.

But, unlike some of his children, Grand Reef doesn't harbor any resentment for cookies. It's just not in his nature to harbor any hatred for... Well, anything, really. A reef is meant to be a nurturing and peaceful place for even the most ruthless apex predator, to be unwelcoming and unkind to even one creature would go against his very nature. ________

Why be a betrayed and/or volatile tragic, when you can be a sweet, hospice patient kind of tragic? That, and sea pollution and global warming tragic, I mean it's right there-