May You Wake Up To An Inbox Full Of Incoherent AO3 Comments

Notes

- wounds on the mouth means they've said something wrong

- wounds on the ears mean they've heard something wrong

- wounds on, in, or around the eyes means they've seen something wrong.

-Wounds on their hands can mean many things, from thieves all the way to murderers.

- open wounds and constant bleeding mean the pain is fresh or still hurting them

- bruses mean they have been physically abused in that spot

- wounds on their head and above their heart mean mental and emotional pain.

- cuts on wrists mean attempted suicide or thoughts of suicide

- The more severe the wounds the more painful the memory.

---

These were facts I figured out the hard way. I guess I thought I could use my gift to heal everyone. I made it my life goal to help the people with their wounds.

Often I would see wounds heal and stop bleeding. A few times I've seen scars fade. Even seeing a little cut fade away made me smile because I can say I've tried and helped.

I guess I had to learn the hard way that I couldnt help everyone.

---

I had a routine before I went to work. In my undergarment I'd look in the mirror and focus.

My lips have been torn off and the remaining skin stitched shut. My ears were mangled, they look like they've got into a shreader. There were cuts over and around my eyes.

Those were the minor wounds. My neck had a bruise circling the front, a dark purple handprint. Other bruises littered my entire body. There were two hand print bruises on each side of my hips. My hands were mangled and broken beyond repair. Multiple deep cuts on my wrists.

But the worst wounds were my heart and head. Where my heart should be was a gaping hole, the shape of the rim made it look like someone had stuck their hand in my chest and pulled out my heart. On my forehead was a gun shot wound.

Each and every wound, even after all these years, still dripped blood.

I counted each and every single wound and recalled how I got them. Mental, physical, and emotional abuse. Forced actions. Rape. Death threats. Degradation from family, friends and strangets. Trauma. Self inflicted wounds. Multiple suicide attempts.

---

I take a deep breath and release. I put on my clothes and go to work.

I unlock a door that had the plack "Dr.-- Psychiatrist" mounted on the wall next to it. I flip the "Doctor is in" sign. I sit in my chair, look through files and checking my schedule.

I've dedicated my life to make sure no one else gets the same wounds I do. No one should suffer this way and if I can help then I will.

I know my patients can make it. After all, my 14 year old self has made it this far.

You’re born with the ability to see a person’s internal pain as if it were a physical injury. Most people have at least a few scratches, while some people look like they’ve fallen off of cliffs. One day, you see someone in the worst state you’ve ever seen anyone before.

Hey you. You reading this. Yes. You're all of these words.

WORDS TO USE INSTEAD OF: BEAUTIFUL

Do you ever find yourself over-using the word “beautiful” to describe things/people/etc in your writing? Try using these words instead:

stunning

gorgeous

breathtaking

mesmerizing

lovely

beauteous

cute

alluring

charming

dashing

pretty

majestic

ravishing

dazzling

striking

adorable

enticing

captivating

dreamy

astonishing

Why people don't understand when we say

"Rosegarden is bullied"

Cross-posted on Twitter

I finally figured it out. they come from big ships. it seems other people think we're a big ship when we're not. they don't realize how small we are. it's majority ships vs a minority ship. that's not in terms of rival ships, but just the sheer size of any ship.

rg has like 20-30 active shippers (that's being generous. probably closer to like 10-20) at a time between twitter and tumblr; and only like a handful of content creators, most of which aren't even active in the community.

while big ships gets art or fics out the wazoo for big crumbs, we don't. we had huge crumbs the last two episodes and there's nothing. that's not a fault of the content creators ofc, but i'm using it to put things in perspective.

they don't realize even 5-10 people talking shit (joking or not) is huge for us. i've called it bullying in the past because that's what it is when it's so many people against so few. it's the sheer size of the ship vs the bigger ships like wr and nnd that makes the difference between 5 rg shippers talking trash about those ships and this ships talking trash about our's. neither scenario is right, but it hits harder when those 5 attackers are equivalent to 30-40% of one ship's active shippers vs 1-2% of another.

when you don't have enough people to drown out the hate, it becomes exhausting and really brings you down.

half the shippers i've asked said they were afraid to publicly admit to shipping rg bc of how much shit rg gets. i've met multiple people who've left the community because of the bullying, too.

if you check the twitter replies of this crosspost right now—only two hours since i posted it—there's already several people coming forward with their stories and their fears. more and more people keep coming out as the post spreads. my heart breaks for them.

the worst part is that i know rg isn't the only ship with this problem. i'm begging you all to think about how you would feel in our shoes. to try to be more mindful of the size of your ship vs the size of others.

trust me when i say your words are a lot louder than you intend.

The movie Wicked is proof that any source material can be vastly improved by simply making the intense female friendship much gayer + the mutual male love interest both wildly bisexual and lowkey down to just be their third

Perfection

Exploring a bit the body language of the clan cats, most of them based on the books and a few that I invented (like that the cats have signs exclusively for the preys).

I took a screen shot of my rook looking pitiful and got my besties comment on it , so hard to sketch it

Cause that's her vibe 24/7

Reblog if you're a Hufflepuff.

gryffindor | ravenclaw | slytherin

Your spouse was an important and powerful person, so it was no surprise you got kidnapped by their enemies. Unfortunately, that was the kidnappers' final mistake. Your spouse laughs when they get the ransom call. "Good luck. You will need it. Dear, be home soon. Dinner is ready. Love you."

It's 2am I haven't slept and I suck at writing. Welp. Have fun!! XD

I felt the cold metal pen in my hand as I tapped it against the wooden table. Words. Words. Words. Words I could not put into writing. I wanted to tell the story. I wanted to share THEIR story. I leaned back on my chair and looked up at the barren ceiling. Closing my eyes I went back to that day.

The bus seat covers felt rough under my small hands as they brush over the cloth layer. The sounds of the engine and tires on gravel road mixed with the chatter of excited children. They had all been awaiting this day, and so did I.

It had been many many centuries since the magic that turned the dead into plants spread over all living things. All plants, aside from the regular vegetables and root crops, then became sacred. Cities were reduced to small villages since it was forbidden by law to cut down any plant. I came from one of the bigger villages, one who's law was all dead and dying would be taken into the forest and would be laid to rest there. Today was our day to go up to the sacred forest shrine and pay respects to our ancestors.

When we got off the bus the scent of dirt, bark and leaves filled my nose. I reveled in the satisfying crackle dried leaves made under my shoes as I walked upon them. Cool Autumn wind rustled the tree tops and made my long raven hair flow with it.

I turned to see my class gathering infront of our teacher and tour guide. They would go through the known forest paths and learn the history of different sections... but I had a different plan.

I stayed at the back of the class, waiting to spot a familiar route. It was narrow between the tress but it was clearly a beaten path. When the teacher was leading the students away I stayed and hid behind a large oak. I placed my hand on the trunk as respect to the dead bellow, by the size it might have been an old man. 'Damien' I noticed his name carved on the base of the trunk where it should be.

"Thank you Damien" I whispered.

I followed the narrow beaten path. I had been down this road many times before. I often snuck away from school and my grand parents to come here. I memorized all the names of the people who laid here to rest. I muttered greetings all along the way to two trees at the edge of this section.

There stood two mighty trees. An oak and Apple tree wrapped around each other like a spiral. I approached and cross sat infront of them. The names caved showed clear over base. 'Rose' on the Apple tree and 'Pine' on the oak. I chuckled in my mind as I do when I visit.

"Hello, mom. Dad." I smiled. The wind blew a little harder but it was still gentle. It was as if it was hugging me, welcoming me... and maybe it was. I stayed there for a good long while, telling my parents what had happened in the past months. I knew my class was still clueless that I was gone. How did I know?...I just felt like the forest was telling me so.

As I was about to leave I felt something new. A calling. A whisper? I turned my head and saw it. A cement pillar hidden amoung the trees. I never noticed it before...but...I was curious. I approached and soon I found myself in front of what seemed to be a burnt down building. The only remains of it were broken pillars, destroyed walls and charred cement pieces that littered the floor. The ruins were mostly covered in vines, weeds and other foliage.

In the building, or at least where the building used to be was a mini forest. Tall trees stood close together. Almost pressed against each other. I walked deeper into the woods. The trees were many different sizes, names carved into the bottom like they should be.... but then I saw something strange.

Tree saplings? Young oaks that looked like they will never grow taller. There were around 10 of them. It was strange. I knelt down beside the closest on and looked at the base. My eyes widened in shock... no names.

I touched the tree leaves. ---

It was hot. Fire. Screaming. Doctors. Nurses. Families. Seniors. Running.

I felt like I was there but not there. I could only stand and watch the chaos unfold. It was a hospital engulfed in flames. People were rushing to get out but many of the doors were burning or blocked. There were two people. Doctors. I had seen them only in pictures, it was my mother and father. They were running, not towards an exit, but further into the hospital. I followed them, I walked but somehow I was keeping pace with the frantic couple. They ran into a ward. 'Nursery' was written on a plac above the double doors. It was only a moment but my parents burst through the doors again, this time a bundle in their hands.

I followed again. My father was yelling something and pointed towards a hallway filled with thick black smoke. They stared into the abyss then turned to each other, both with determination in their eyes that blazed hotter than the fire. My mother placed a napkin over an opening in the bundle. When she did I couldn't breath I felt like I was being suffocated, my nose and mouth covered by something. My parents ran into the hall, they breathed heavy, they couldn't risk holding their breath when they were exhausted and running, they needed to get out. It felt like eternity. I felt like I was about to pass out but my parents found the only exit on covered in flames and threw themselves at the door, breaking it open. The moment they stepped out into the clean open air my mother took her hand away from the bundle in her arms and suddenly I could breath. I heaved for air. Looking up as saw mom and dad running away from the burning building, mom holding the bundle close. I followed them to a familiar spot. A clearing that seemed all to real. My parents sat on the grass, leaning on one another. They couldn't get up any more, they were fading. My father turned napped his arms around my mother from behind, pulling her close to his chest. My mom held the bundle more gently and slowly moved away the top of it. I gasped. Again I'd only seen it in pictures...It was me. Still a baby, maybe a few days old. A name tag was wrapped around my wrist as I slept soundly even through the turmoil. I watched as my parents fell asleep with me in the their arms. The smoke poisoning took them. It would be mere minutes later when people arrived to put out the fire but it was too late. Mom and dad were gone, I was left crying in my mother's arms. The people took me away.---

I shot up but lost my balance and fell back down. In my panic I scooted away from the sprouts. Memories. Memories. I was born here.... I couldn't control the tears that streamed down my face. These were his nursery mates. Children only hours old... dead. Burned. Taken away before they even had a name. The knelt before them and burried my face in my hands as I wailed for them.

I opened my eyes, still leaning back. Still staring at the barren ceiling. I slowly raised my right hands and placed it gentle on my left shoulder. It felt like I could feel the warmth of a hand is my teacher found me and took me away from the ruins.

I sat back up and leaned over my desk. Pen met paper as I wrote down what I remembered. I published the short story and when I passed that same ruin was given a name. Homage to the lost.

"The bed of angels"

-----

Lord help my shit writing lmao. Now to try and sleep.

Plants sprout above corpses. The bigger the body the bigger the foliage. Adult humans can become large oaks and a butterfly could become a rose. Forests are cemeteries for the dead to sleep, and every tree has the names of the past carved into the base for the future to remember. While out on a school trip to the remote mountains you sneak out only to find a forest down a prohibited path… a forest of small oaks with no names…

An illuminated manuscript from a gossip pamphlet found in the First Talon’s desk with the caption reads:

The Treviso Tourney - Knight Takes Rook

Despite the recently crowned King Viago’s presence at this weekend’s coronation tournament, the audience seemed more enamoured with the rare appearance of the newly wed Dellamorte’s. The Champion of Treviso’s magical talents may have left her out of the competition, but the First Talon’s blade received Rook’s favour - and this punter knows to never bet against the Rook!