[gooey.]

res

[Muggywort]

Mark

[imp.]

mmm

username ;;
name ;;
gender ;;
explanation ;;
art ;; (1 piece max, optional)

[riptidegreywolf]

username ;; riptidegreywolf
name ;; Rasia
gender ;; female
explanation ;; The roses are for camouflage. Rose bushes are native in the area and the back roses help her hide from threats.
art ;; (1 piece max, optional)

[I'm a rAT]

username ;; Rinasaurousrex
name ;; Kokoro (I'm pretty sure that means pure heart)
gender ;; cisgender, female, she/her
explanation ;; As a pup, Kokoro was found to have a life threatening disease, she suffered from this disease for months, paralysed, basically a breathing corpse. She was told that she only had a year to live, for that year, her family mourned the fast-aproaching death of their daughter. She was trapped, in her own personal hell, she couldn't move, she couldn't eat, she couldn't drink. Her family knew it was the end, they decorated her tear stained body with roses from the meadow in which they lived, as they would a grave of a loved one. Then came the day on which she was said to meet her demise, September 4th. Her family and friends gathered around her faded body and said their gooodbyes, and departed from her, thought to be, dead body, the space around her had almost cleared, Then, Her paw twitched, Her mother, who was still by her side, yelped out for attention, as her daughter, Kokoro, stood up slowly on weak and sleepy paws.

Here she is now, healthy, happy and full of life, the roses still decorate her pelt as a reminder of her survival, her strength in tough times, and the love and support of the people around her.

I would love to draw a little doodle of her but unfortunately, I'm still getting my head around oekaki and I'm not quite sure how to upload art from anywhere else haha Thank you for this opportunity!!!

[hiyorin]

username ;; hiyorin
name ;; airi
gender ;; female
explanation ;;
art ;; (1 piece max, optional)

res

[Alantica]

username ;; Alantica
name ;; Shabishi Kyoko
gender ;; Female
explanation ;;
Nothingness. Void. Guilt.

Flowers have filled up the gap in my heart. I have spent these few years gardening to forget. Wait. That's not right. I'm gardening to forgive. To forgive myself.

I could hear the sirens loudly ringing in my ears. It hurts. I tried to move but I couldn't. I heard a voice calling out my name. Slowly, I closed my eyes and grew unconscious. Into my dream world where everything was perfect.
My eyelids were heavy. I slowly opened my eyes. "Where am I?" I though to myself. I glared at the stark white ceiling. "Kyoko?!? Kyoko! You're awake!" a voice next to me cried. I turned my head to see them. "Merabella?" I mumbled. She sat there sobbing and I stared at her confused. I tried to sit up only to feel sharp pain all over. "We thought we would lose you too..." Merabella whimpered. "Lose me?" I thought. Just then the realization hit me. "Where are they?" I asked in a panic. My best friends.. where are they? Merabella began to sob harder, "I'm so sorry..." No... No... Please no...

I learned they passed away in the accident. I was the only survivor and I blamed myself. It's so lonely without them. "Why was I the only one?" I asked myself this everyday. I could still hear their sweet voice in my ears. Soon after I was discharged from the hospital, I quit my dream job. Our dream job. I couldn't do it anymore. Everything I did reminded me of them. So, I began gardening. I would plant many different flowers as they brought a rare smile to my face. Merabella would check on me often and she loves the flowers I grew. Years later, I have been planting their favorite flowers. I would pick them every month to bring to their graves and sing them a song.

I miss you guys...

art ;; (1 piece max, optional)

[zenos.]

withdrawing! sorry!

[sillies]

username ;;
name ;;
gender ;;
explanation ;;
art ;; (1 piece max, optional)

Mark for sure

Too pretty not to try for

[sneezes]

ＮＩＲＡＶ
❝―――――――――won't you give me a sign before i lose my mind?――――――――❞
« female ● bookman. »
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

.
┏━━━━━━━━━━┓







⏬

sometimes
i wonder
if there is
anyone
out there
afraid
to lose me.

⏫







┗━━━━━━━━━━┛

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.
┏━━━━━━━━━━┓






⏪

he smiled at
her and promised
a world that she
had understood
only once before.
and tentatively,
she reached out
and took the hand
"thank you."

⏩






┗━━━━━━━━━━┛

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Do you ever think we can turn back time someday —
And be the same as we were back in that time?

Perhaps if we were to go back to that time the things that happened in the future wouldn't occur.
We would be better off — we could avoid the things that hurt us - would hurt us. The things that caused us pain would no longer exist.
The people that hurt us would never meet us.
The world... would be different.

And the dark and dim sky would light up again, and the sound of music would dance throughout.
Prevention would be unnecessary; there would be no need to prevent anything. Our dreams would come true.

The wishes to see them again — parents and siblings that no longer exist — would be granted.
The wishes to stop the sky from swallowing them up in front of your eyes would be accessible.
The wishes to remove your eyes from the painted red on the ground, and on the walls and on the sky...
would there be necessity to see it?

___________________________________________________

To choke on air is to choke on water is to choke on sorrow and pity. It burns from the lowest part of your throat and rises up and up
until all you can do is hack and try to get something out. And when nothing comes out and you won't die but you wont breathe — can't breath —
it becomes as bitter as the air you keep drinking in.

To interact one must be understood.
To be understood, one must be able to understand themself.
To lose understanding, one must have understood in the first place.

And when words can no longer escape your mouth — as you've lost yourself inside of your own mind — then where can you communicate?
The words that are burning in the bottom of your heart, the words that scar your insides as they try and bubble out — you want to scream!

...But you don't remember how.

___________________________________________________

Can someone understand how lonely it is?

Can anyone reach into recesses of nothing and retrieve something?

And if something comes out, would anyone understand it?

From the silence there comes sorrow, and from the sorrow there comes doubt.
And just perhaps, on a dreary evening, the doubt manifests into a concrete realization of morbid knowledge.

How can people understand what they cannot find?

___________________________________________________

On a summer evening of acceptance — acceptance of having lost — perhaps a shadow covers the field of flowers.
Does it matter anymore?

The shadow takes a seat beside her, and yet even as they speak she cannot understand enough to reply.
Even as they try, she cannot give forth the same.

In the end they'll leave too, won't they?

And then the summer evening will be just as cold as the winter morning.

___________________________________________________

And the shadow fades in on the summer evening again.

And today, and today, and today, and a promised tomorrow.
Even as she cannot bring any words out of her mouth, even as the burning feeling in her heart manifests stronger than before.
Even then, words are unknown.

"When you're able," the shadow speaks, kind. "I'd like to know your name."

And it burns.

___________________________________________________

She tries when the shadow is not there.
The words cannot come. It only hurts to try.

But perhaps she wants to try.

She remembers the smiles and she stops.

She remembers the smile and she begins again.

___________________________________________________

They come again. They go again.
It becomes a cycle.

She stops. She tries again.
Does everything move in circles?

They speak, and she laughs.
Perhaps circles aren't so bad.

___________________________________________________

And she's proud. It hurts — it hurts.
But she is overcoming it.

___________________________________________________

It was such a simple touch. Of course, the simplest of touches conveyed such strong emotion between two people — two people who had done so much together. Clearly, almost too clearly, it was evident that some form of attachment rang through everyone’s hearts, interlocking and promising something — no matter how unwanted.

Without a doubt things were never how they seemed. Were their bonds made out of the simplest of strings so that it may be cut with the most complicated of scissors — with the necessity of the heroism and martyrdom that tales spun of conquerors and saviors that would outlast them all, as in reality such things would not come to be as they met an end all too soon.

And when bringing up ends, perhaps that’s what tied them together, their beginnings remaining unattached to anything as their own strings interwoven and spun through one another only to tie off at the end — a point which they would all meet.

Perhaps this meeting — which was all just a despondent wish — was what allowed such an easy reach of understanding. Just as if two siblings would understand themselves and one another, they had received such a connection.

Yet what had they lost to receive such understanding.

Knowledge came at such a price that only a fool would try and reach it all. Perhaps God wished for fools and handed them knowledge.

Even so, it seemed brighter.

The realization that someone understood — could understand — it hurt and yet it felt soothing.

And she didn’t want to let that feeling go.

A smile spread across her face, easily letting the tears slip down her face.

Thank you.

And even to that God she thought had cursed their lives she couldn’t help but thank.

“Thank you,”

___________________________________________________

She weaves the flowers of the no-longer-shadowed hill into her hair and fur.
The outward appearances of her body become showed in the scent of the roses, her comfort and her friend.

For how long did she only speak to them — which understood her and cared for her — only them and all of them?
For how long had she been scarred and torn up from the inside out, until her words could remove themselves from their lodgings?

And how long had she been blind, and mute, and deaf, and dumb? How long had she limped with the force of gravity pressing her down?

How long had these flowers grown from her tears — which spoke more words than she could ever?

Perhaps, and only perhaps, silence was a good thing.
Yet the understanding that came from the words of her mouth — the words of her heart...

That was what truly counted, even as her silent vows planted themselves on her brow, and her back — reminders.

Sometimes a flower would grow in the wrong place — but that didn't make it wrong.

coding credit