#how to take care of your properly

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 301

Ellie, during one of her stints of what do I do with my life right now, decides to, with the help of her Original Dad-Person (Look he’s aging and she’s not and it gets less questions the older he gets if he says daughter instead of sister with how the Fentons are getting older too) creates a Boo-Tube channel. No, not a Youtube channel, those are stuck to a single dimension.

Bootube on the other hand? Due to being through the Realms (and wow is Tucker getting so much income from creating it) is interdimensional. Which is so cool honestly. And she doesn’t know what to do at first, and honestly there’s already so many travel blogs that she kind of just… decided to do something that she wished someone had done for her and her brothers and Danny when she was new to the world. 

So she creates the channel CAAW: Clone Awareness, Accommodations, and Welfare. They had to learn things through trial and error, but maybe she can help someone out there learn how to find their own selves, or even help someone not melt. 

[siriusfelis]

Guhhh

[misericorsalvator]

An Epitaph

Henry didn't know where he was. It was cold, freezing, but that was all he could tell, from the sharp chill that tore through his damp clothes, to the frigid air that felt like icicles in his lungs when he breathed. Even if he was someplace familiar, it would have been impossible to tell through the veil of rime in the air, the thick hoar that coated the ground. But wherever he was, he had to find shelter. soon, before his limbs grew any number that they already were and he lost the three fingers he had left on his right hand to frostbite. It took a good deal of walking, trudging through the snow, before he found something resembling sanctuary. A rocky hovel dug deep into a mountainside he hadn't even noticed was there. The crooked mountaintop loomed far overhead like a wind-swept pine tree, towering over the barren expanse and shielding the small patch of land near the cave's entrance from the worst of the snowfall. It was a narrow fit, the opening more narrow than a coffin, but it opened up into a wide chamber beyond, dark, lit only by the little light reflecting on the snow outside.

Panic stabbed at him suddenly. That chamber felt familiar, though he couldn't recall from where. The rockface of the walls was smooth, man-made, and the stalactites hanging from the domed ceiling above were unnatural, all the same length, jagged and sharpened to fine points. But he had no time to waste on the unnerving interior. The weather outside was getting worse, the wind howling like wolves on a hunt, and soon his shelter would be just as cold and dangerous as the outside. He had to think, find a way to keep the warmth in. Henry returned to the entrance. He twisted around in the narrow space as best he could and began piling up snow with his numb hands, stacking it, pressing it into shape, mouthing breathless curses to himself, until he had built a solid wall halfway up to his neck. It should last. He didn't know for how long, but at least for now, until he could catch his breath. It had to last.

Henry slumped against the wall of the cave. The barrier he had built offered some protection, but he could still feel the cold creeping in, seeping through the gaps and cracks in the snow. A damp chill gnawed at his bones, freezing the air in his lungs. He knew he had to keep moving, to do something, anything, to stay warm and awake. He couldn’t afford to fall asleep. Not here. Not now. But his limbs were leaden and his body creaked in protest with every movement. His teeth chattered as he tried to think, tried to remember where he was and how he had gotten there. The harder he tried, however, the more his thoughts seemed to slip away, like sand through his fingers. Panic clawed at his chest once more as he looked around the cavern. The walls seemed to close in, the smooth stone shimmering with a thin layer of rime frost. The ceiling above with the unnaturally sharp stalactites, loomed over him like a mouth full of fangs. He had to get out.

Henry pushed himself off the wall, his legs shaking beneath him. The snow was piling up faster now, further in through the entrance than the wall he had built, and he frantically began to shovel it away with his hands, trying to clear a path through the narrow gap. He shovelled harder, floundered, grappled til his fingers were too numb to move, but for every tiny hopeful opening he made, more snow took its place, as if the storm outside was determined to bury him alive. The cold was unbearable now, seeping into his very soul. Outside, the wind roared, a feral sound that echoed through the cavern and made the air thick with cold. Each breath now was a knife to the chest, each inhale burning his lungs. The snow crawled closer, blocking the entrance fully, and began to cover the cave floor inch by painful inch, forcing the hunter back step by painful step.

Henry's mind was reeling. He stumbled further into the cave, away from the encroaching cold, the bones of his legs creaking in protest. The deeper he went, the more the walls seemed to close in on him, the smooth rock pressing down, suffocating. The quiet there was unnerving, an oppressive stillness that made him painfully aware of his own laboured breathing and the pounding of his heart. The silence of the grave. For what felt like an hour, he pushed himself forward against the stone walls, cowering under the stalactites which were now low enough to graze the top of his head. No matter how far he went, the snow followed close behind, blocking the way back. Henry's movements grew slower, more sluggish, until he could no longer outrun it, and that white frost began piling up around his boots. He felt the fight leave him, his breathing weakened, his heartbeat slowed.

Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw it—a single snowflake, delicate and perfect, drifting down from the ceiling above. His breath caught in his throat as he watched it fall, impossibly slow, through solid rock. It glowed faintly in the dim light and Henry’s eyes followed its descent, almost hypnotized, until it landed softly on the ground. On something dark, something that wasn’t stone. He crouched down, his stiff knees cracking in protest, and wiped away the snow, his fingers brushing against a cold, unyielding surface.

A hand.

His hand.

His breath caught in his throat. He was looking at himself, at his own lifeless body, crumpled and broken, half-buried in the snow. The wounds were horrific—deep gashes and punctures that were draining the life out of him-- and the realization hit him like a sledgehammer.

This wasn't real.

The snow, the cold, it was all in his head, growing blurry as his brain ran out of oxygen. And the cavern wasn’t just familiar—it was the place he was dying, right now, in the real world. The place where his body was lying, bleeding out into the cold ground, his blood darkening the stone ground.

For a third time, panic surged through him, but it was laced with a deep, bone-weary exhaustion. The wind howled louder, and now Henry could make out voices, battle cries, screeching and yowling in twisted satisfaction. The snow now poured into the cave through the solid ceiling above, burying everything in its path. He wanted to claw his way out, to escape this nightmare, but his limbs wouldn’t respond. The snow was too thick, too heavy, pressing down on him from all sides. As his vision began to blur, the walls of the cave pulsed, breathing with a life of their own, in tandem with his own slowed breaths. The snow continued to fall, endlessly, burying him, until all he could see was white. And then, from the heart of the storm, he saw a figure—a tall, imposing silhouette that moved with unnatural grace, cutting through the blizzard as if it were nothing. Henry tried to focus, but his mind was slipping, the edges of his consciousness fraying like old cloth.

His final thoughts drifted to Bran. A deep guilt welled up inside him. He wouldn’t make it home for Christmas this year. He wouldn’t see his boy’s face light up when he opened his presents, wouldn’t hear his laughter echoing through the house. Regret gnawed at him, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. In his last moments, as the darkness closed in, Henry barely registered the sharp pain in his chest—a bite, cold and searing, as if winter itself had latched onto his heart, and his eyes froze over with unshed tears until the world faded and he breathed his last.

In a long-forgotten catacomb in Wales, as the last drop of Henry's blood soaked into the humid ground, something ancient stirred. Beneath the layers of earth and stone, within the crypt that had long been forgotten, a pair of eyes snapped open. After centuries of entombment, something awoke. The blood of the dying hunter seeped into its consciousness, filling it with the remnants of Henry's life, his memories, his regrets. And once the blood had ran dry, the ancient knight rose from his tomb, his eyes burning with a cold, unholy fire.

He tore through the killers, the blood-thirsty beasts who had chased their prey to the ancient tomb, splattering the walls with their undead blood that burnt to ash, until none were left. Then, he looked down at the broken body of the hunter who had unwittingly become his saviour. With a grim sense of purpose, the knight knelt beside Henry’s lifeless form. He whispered words in a dialect long dead, a prayer, perhaps, or a vow. Then, with a reverence reserved for fallen comrades, the knight lifted the hunter’s body and carried him deeper into the crypt, where heroes were once laid to rest, where the knight's own tomb stood, broken apart from within. The hunter was gone, his spirit entwined with the ancient knight’s own, but his legacy would live on, honoured by one of the very creatures he had once sought to destroy.

The knight sealed the tomb with a final, solemn gesture, then left the catacombs behind and stepped out into the warm summer night, into a world which had long outlived him.

[faithfromanewperspective]

just watch your moral puritanism idk. we can simultaneously say ‘mental illness isn’t an excuse or a reason to be an abuser’ and ‘this person is obviously struggling and we can tell by their actions, it’s important we keep anyone they could hurt safe while also approaching with curiosity because that’s the way they’re going to get better, not judgement’

[sowearecleariamhere]

What annoys me is when allos are so caught up in their amatonormativity (or just allonormativity) that any statement akin to "romance is not or less important to some/you don't need a partner to complete you" comes across to them as downplaying their own relationships, present or past, and then take offence, raising their pitchforks crying out about how they love their partner and for good measure throw in something like "being by yourself is selfish", "falling in love is what makes us human", "everyone wants a relationship"...

They don't though. That's the thing. There are people that are perfectly content without a romantic relationship, whether at all or just for the season of life they are in at the moment.

So heres my message to those people:

Me maybe not ever wanting a relationship is my preference and has nothing to do with you. Me stating that there are people like me does not devalue your relationship. If you perceive it as such, then that is on you and you might want to learn to not take shit that isn't an affront personally. End of PSA.

*awkward curtsy*

[welcometoteyvat]

the only thing i took away from hsr 2.1 is that march is gay

[shmowder]

The depressed teen to enthusiastic adult pipeline is far too real

[angelforcas]

I wish you were my father

> Oh??

> You really think so?? You're certain?

> Wait no you're serious aren't you- Wow, okay- I mean I'm definitely flattered, don't get me wrong

> I just don't think your typical parent would approve of how I'd go about it. I'd expect your life expectancy to lower if I was your dad

[danielnelsen]

update: peach is doing very well!! she's eating and sleeping normally (sleeping more than normal, really, but that's to be expected)!! after 3 days of not sleeping and a few changes in painkillers, she finally just napped for an hr then, after another day, slept through the whole night (and most of the next day). she's started following all her usual routines again and is very keen to eat! still on some painkillers, but they're not having any horrific side effects anymore

now that im not staying up to keep an eye on her all night (while also dealing with upgrading my computer and my phone and also my sister preparing to go overseas and the dogs barking and howling constantly due to all of the above), i finally got some decent sleep too and slept for about 14 hrs. so today ive got that weird shakiness that i get from sleeping too much, but hey it's better than the whole of the last week

[inquisitor-julia]

Iggy, my large hermit crab, on any given day: I *hate* you and I am prepared to pinch you at all times for any reason!!! I will run to a corner when you enter the room bc you are big and scary!!

Iggy when I break out the catappa leaves: LEAF??? MOTHER HAS PROVIDED LEAF???? I LIKE LEAF SLIGHTLY MORE THAN I HATE MOTHER!

[novadreii]

If your life circumstances have always required from you an abnormal amount of strength and resilience, I see you. If your inner child lets out a small sob anytime someone compliments you on that strength, I see you. If that strength translates to you being some form of domineering/abrasive because you learned early on that your lot in life was to take care of yourself because nobody else ever did, I see you. If you are so fucking angry all the time and can't pinpoint why, I see you. If you've had to watch as people you care about continue to abandon you in adulthood because you grew up to be type A, controlling and assertive, I see the fuck out of you. It's not your fault that nobody ever gave you a soft place to land so that you could be your true self. And I won't inundate you with condescending platitudes about how you'll find your person/people one day.

Some of us are lucky, but to depend on external sources for your well being is a crap shoot. I won't tell you to keep looking for your home in other people. Home is where you are. Take that strength you've painstakingly cultivated since you were a child, and quadruple it. Become bulletproof, unbreakable. Don't let anyone else find a fault line in you to exploit ever again.

[mosquitinho]

we have these neighbors who are an old couple and recently they've adopted a canary and it makes me so sad to see that bird in a small cage alone in their balcony for the most part of the day wah.

[yunmeng-jiang]

> open a fic

> it's tagged "everybody lives/nobody dies"

> sidenote "except nmj he dies"

> it starts looking a bit sus regarding its treatment of jgy

> get to the end

> nmj comes back as a sentient fierce corpse

> jgy is the evil villain who did everything wrong just because he felt like it

> jgy dies

[135-film]

every time i hear anything art-related on tiktok, i immediately get really like... upset? annoyed? idk. unpleasant feeling because it's literally always "we're making fun of this child/beginner for their anatomy or how they color" or whatever else or pretending that an artists deserve to be treated like a piece of corporate media.

i know tiktok is literally the devil and hell incarnate, but i don't think any artist deserves to be targets of mass harassment especially not people who are just starting out (and even more especially not children).

if tiktok was a thing when i was younger and i was posting my art on there, i would never fucking draw ever again. my art career would've ended after a few months of drawing "seriously," and i really do mean it lol. call me sensitive or whatever, but a 13-15 year old does not need to hear whatever criticism you think they need to hear i promise.

[crowrelli]

.