rosieathearthside

[rosieathearthside]

If anyone clicks on here and almost has a mini heart attack because things have changed-

*puts hands on shoulders*

-don't. Just...don't. It's fine, I promise. XD

I'm just working on reformatting things a bit! I'm changing the colours/overall design of my posts to be more eye-friendly, per a suggestion I got for my writing recently. To the person who left said suggestion (who I'm leaving anonymous): thanks again! I'm sorry that I'm so late to getting to this, but I wanted to take the time to make wide-scale changes to my entire blog- not just singular stories- to bite the colouring bullet all-around, ya know? (And plus, it just looks more aesthetic and...flow-y. Flow. Flow's great. XD)

The default Tumblr link should be good; I'm gonna find a new layout for the custom site now.(Honestly, I've been thinking about doing *that* for a while now. This is a great time to go ahead and bite that bullet, as well! Kill..two bullets with one stone? Or keypad? I guess? I don't know, man; I need sleep.)

Thanks for understanding, guys!! Remember to never put popsicles in your coffee. >:D

With Platonic <3,

Ros!e

[rosieathearthside]

Fav constellation? 💫✨🌌

Easy. The Dippers, both Big and Little. I know, basic as hell, but....Gravity Falls. I'm a simple woman.

:'D

[rosieathearthside]

If you get this, answer w/ three random facts about yourself, then send it to the last five blogs in your notifs! :D

Alright, bet. >:D

- I love to draw traditionally, specifically with charcoal pencils. I know a lot of people think charcoal is a nightmare medium, but hear me out- with a *soft* white charcoal pencil, a good sandpaper-ish shaving block (I forgot the technical term for it), and a good-sized blending stick, you can take on the freakin' world. XD

- I think that garlic bread smeared with Oreo cream, topped with Oreo cookie crumbles, and drizzled with honey is an absolutely heavenly dessert. (Take my word for it, guys. :'D)

- I've got a...rather concerning collection of Shopkins. They make excellent pencil tops. Millie the Mushroom's been a favourite of mine for years. >:3

[rosieathearthside]

Writing References: Character Development

50 Questions ⚜ Backstory ⚜ Character-driven Story

Basics: How to Write a Character ⚜ A Story-Worthy Hero

Basics: Character-Building ⚜ Character Creation

Types of Characters: Key Characters ⚜ Literary Characters ⚜ Flat & Round Characters ⚜ Morally Grey ⚜ Narrators ⚜ Allegorical Characters ⚜ Archetypes ⚜ Stereotypical Characters

Worksheets: Backstory ⚜ Character ⚜ Kill your Characters ⚜ Antagonist; Villain; Fighting ⚜ Change; Adding Action; Conflict ⚜ Character Sketch & Bible ⚜ Protagonist & Antagonist ⚜ Name; Quirks; Flaws; Motivation ⚜ "Interviewing" your Characters ⚜ "Well-Rounded" Character

Personality Traits

5 Personality Traits (OCEAN) ⚜ 16 Personality Traits (16PF)

600+ Personality Traits ⚜ 170 Quirks

East vs. West Personalities ⚜ Trait Theories

Tips/Editing

Character Issues ⚜ Character Tropes for Inspiration

"Strong" Characters ⚜ Unlikable to Likable

Tips from Rick Riordan

Writing Notes

Binge ED ⚜ Hate ⚜ Love ⚜ Identifying Character Descriptions

Childhood Bilingualism ⚜ Children's Dialogue ⚜ On Children

Culture ⚜ Culture: Two Views ⚜ Culture Shock

Dangerousness ⚜ Flaws ⚜ Fantasy Creatures

Emotional Intelligence ⚜ Genius (Giftedness)

Emotions (1) (2) ⚜ Anger ⚜ Fear ⚜ Happiness ⚜ Sadness

Emotional Universals ⚜ External & Internal Journey

Goals & Motivations ⚜ Grammar Development ⚜ Habits

Facial Expressions ⚜ Jargon ⚜ Swearing & Taboo Expressions

Happy/Excited Body Language ⚜ Laughter & Humor

Health ⚜ Frameworks of Health ⚜ Memory

Mutism ⚜ Shyness ⚜ Parenting Styles ⚜ Generations

Psychological Reactions to Unfair Behavior

Rhetoric ⚜ The Rhetorical Triangle ⚜ Logical Fallacies

Thinking ⚜ Thinking Styles ⚜ Thought Distortions

Uncommon Words: Body ⚜ Emotions

Villains ⚜ Voice & Accent

More References: Plot ⚜ World-building ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[rosieathearthside]

Classic wizardry, but the dragons are people and you scream. Like, a lot.

[rosieathearthside]

Quick note, by the way: I don't have anything against people who believe in the theory of evolution or the Big Bang Theory, things like that. Honestly, in its own way, it's quite intriguing. This is 100% a fictional tale. And though I don't believe in scientific ideals, I'm not at all trying to target or attack anyone who does with this work. Just so you guys know, ya know? <33

Concept Story: *insert_future_book_name_here*

I don't know, man. This might be spun into something bigger someday, but for now, enjoy the drabble. XD (Wattpad link here!) ----------------------------------------------------

Too long, people have mused upon the moment man realised his purpose. Where did he first breathe life into the desolate corners of Mother Earth? When did the others of his kind rejoice at the sight of their reflection in the lake? Questions scream, yet answers are shied down to a mere whisper...if they even be at all. 

Yes, we ask when, but hardly ever how. Oh, there are theories abundant as the light's harvest that point towards science and evolution and the like. But these are all the purest form of poppycock. Hypocritical, nonsensical...and, when presented by the average "history-man," quite boorish. 

But I have a wonderful tale, one much more fantastical and engaging than all of this, I promise this to you. And its very heart and soul lies in the stars that are the subject of so many's waking wonder. Listen not to any man who speaks a tale of contradiction; they have never been among those fortunate enough to be graced with the love and light of creative muse.

They have doused my light for too long. But don't they know? It is impossible to douse the mind if the heart still beats. 

When one gazes to the northwest during twilight, they will find three stars, resting in the shape of a prism. They are all that is left of what was once a mere corpse, a shell of what was once wasted potential, left to rest six feet under the ground. But our gracious creator gave him another chance at life, if he swore by his own blood to breathe purpose into the lost people of Earth. They needed love, he was told, and a sense of gumption beyond the mere crumbs of what had been laid before them. 

And so he did. And oh, life was beautiful. Everywhere his love could be found glimmered bright as gold. Even the worst of the lost began to see hints of light, deep from the depths of their mind's abyss. And though it took longer for some than others, Mother Earth's lost children began to heal, and find an individual purpose to channel through the wisdom of their risen messenger. 

When it came time for our creator to join his aching bones to the powder of the dirt one last time, the memory of the message-man lived on in the people's minds for many years...but, alas, it was not for nearly long enough to do him justice. Five or six decades after he passed, one group- merely a trickle at its birth, but still enough to scatter the light- spread like a wave gone rogue all through the earth. "What do we idolise that old prophet for, anyway?" This was their battle-chant, one they screamed all the way to the bitter, sorrow-blinded end. "He was nothing more than a common salesman, profiting off of the misery of our mothers and fathers for his name to be cast in gold! We are men, are we not? We are capable of everything he rose to and more, no one to clasp onto all the way!" 

...And so is the state of our world. His only lasting memory can be found in the sky now, where our creator made that starry prism in his honour. Or...is it, as I like to imagine, the gleam in his eyes that shines so bright in our sky? Is he watching, waiting for-

"Foolish girl, how many times do I have to tell you-!! What are you doing up here again? And with metal to be mended, no less!" 

This strange, lovely girl, with her stolen parchment and quill, shoved the letters of her labour under her pallet-bed before the boss-woman could catch her ink-handed. 

...Goodness, the fire in her elder's eyes was enough to make her fist her hands white behind her dress. 

"Girl, get downstairs this instant! Lazing around like this, what were you thinking? You've got quite a bit of lost time to answer for; I'll tell you that much."

"...Yes'm. Yes, ma'am; I'll be right down."

...The embers burned long after the storm left.

The youngster looked towards her pallet one last time, where the papers were...well enough concealed. For now. She'd have to put them in her spot later, before the boss-woman (or anyone else) poked their nose where it wasn't wanted. 

Or needed. 

...She knew her stories were nothing more than a figment of the imagination. She knew that. Trying to sell them off as reality was something she couldn't even imagine doing...but.  Her inner people begged to laugh. To cry. To speak.  In a science-stifled world, she sighed as she walked down the creaky stairs, was it such a crime to let your mind wander to the stars? 

They have doused my light for too long. But don't they know? 

Right before the light broke from the parlour downstairs, she rubbed the ink on her palms into oblivion with a flourish...and a smile.

It is impossible to douse the mind if the heart still beats. 

---------------------------------------------------- - Thanks for reading!! - Suggestions aren't just appreciated; they're encouraged.

[rosieathearthside]

Concept Story: *insert_future_book_name_here*

I don't know, man. This might be spun into something bigger someday, but for now, enjoy the drabble. XD (Wattpad link here!) ----------------------------------------------------

Too long, people have mused upon the moment man realised his purpose. Where did he first breathe life into the desolate corners of Mother Earth? When did the others of his kind rejoice at the sight of their reflection in the lake? Questions scream, yet answers are shied down to a mere whisper...if they even be at all. 

Yes, we ask when, but hardly ever how. Oh, there are theories abundant as the light's harvest that point towards science and evolution and the like. But these are all the purest form of poppycock. Hypocritical, nonsensical...and, when presented by the average "history-man," quite boorish. 

But I have a wonderful tale, one much more fantastical and engaging than all of this, I promise this to you. And its very heart and soul lies in the stars that are the subject of so many's waking wonder. Listen not to any man who speaks a tale of contradiction; they have never been among those fortunate enough to be graced with the love and light of creative muse.

They have doused my light for too long. But don't they know? It is impossible to douse the mind if the heart still beats. 

When one gazes to the northwest during twilight, they will find three stars, resting in the shape of a prism. They are all that is left of what was once a mere corpse, a shell of what was once wasted potential, left to rest six feet under the ground. But our gracious creator gave him another chance at life, if he swore by his own blood to breathe purpose into the lost people of Earth. They needed love, he was told, and a sense of gumption beyond the mere crumbs of what had been laid before them. 

And so he did. And oh, life was beautiful. Everywhere his love could be found glimmered bright as gold. Even the worst of the lost began to see hints of light, deep from the depths of their mind's abyss. And though it took longer for some than others, Mother Earth's lost children began to heal, and find an individual purpose to channel through the wisdom of their risen messenger. 

When it came time for our creator to join his aching bones to the powder of the dirt one last time, the memory of the message-man lived on in the people's minds for many years...but, alas, it was not for nearly long enough to do him justice. Five or six decades after he passed, one group- merely a trickle at its birth, but still enough to scatter the light- spread like a wave gone rogue all through the earth. "What do we idolise that old prophet for, anyway?" This was their battle-chant, one they screamed all the way to the bitter, sorrow-blinded end. "He was nothing more than a common salesman, profiting off of the misery of our mothers and fathers for his name to be cast in gold! We are men, are we not? We are capable of everything he rose to and more, no one to clasp onto all the way!" 

...And so is the state of our world. His only lasting memory can be found in the sky now, where our creator made that starry prism in his honour. Or...is it, as I like to imagine, the gleam in his eyes that shines so bright in our sky? Is he watching, waiting for-

"Foolish girl, how many times do I have to tell you-!! What are you doing up here again? And with metal to be mended, no less!" 

This strange, lovely girl, with her stolen parchment and quill, shoved the letters of her labour under her pallet-bed before the boss-woman could catch her ink-handed. 

...Goodness, the fire in her elder's eyes was enough to make her fist her hands white behind her dress. 

"Girl, get downstairs this instant! Lazing around like this, what were you thinking? You've got quite a bit of lost time to answer for; I'll tell you that much."

"...Yes'm. Yes, ma'am; I'll be right down."

...The embers burned long after the storm left.

The youngster looked towards her pallet one last time, where the papers were...well enough concealed. For now. She'd have to put them in her spot later, before the boss-woman (or anyone else) poked their nose where it wasn't wanted. 

Or needed. 

...She knew her stories were nothing more than a figment of the imagination. She knew that. Trying to sell them off as reality was something she couldn't even imagine doing...but.  Her inner people begged to laugh. To cry. To speak.  In a science-stifled world, she sighed as she walked down the creaky stairs, was it such a crime to let your mind wander to the stars? 

They have doused my light for too long. But don't they know? 

Right before the light broke from the parlour downstairs, she rubbed the ink on her palms into oblivion with a flourish...and a smile.

It is impossible to douse the mind if the heart still beats. 

---------------------------------------------------- - Thanks for reading!! - Suggestions aren't just appreciated; they're encouraged.

[rosieathearthside]

…Well, then. Guess we're doin' this now.

(A.K.A.: A glimpse into the daily life of Rosie and Ichabod; y i p p e e e e e -)

(Wattpad link here!!)

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He knew he was a robot. Pure steel and nerves, as incapable of physical feeling as his platinum exterior was of accumulating rust. But that didn't mean he couldn't feel things in the cavernous, recessive depths of his heart.  What lay there now, you ask?  Well, to put it bluntly, quite a bit of spite. 

"Ichabod," a voice to his right sighed out, "be a dear, would you? Can you hold still for five seconds? Please??" There was a slight lurch in the wiring of Ichabod's stomach at Rosie's words, but he rolled his eyes nonetheless. "Well, if ya'd let me lock my joints, maybe the metal'd keep from slidin' s'bad." Rosie practically glared holes into the side of his face with her silence, but Ichabod found her attitude laughable. (Well, almost. If he actually laughed, Rosie would give him much more than a faulty arm to worry about.) It was her fault they were in this situation, after all, even if she was too stubborn to admit it aloud. The two of them had been down in the theatre when it happened. Rosie had wanted to re-rig the ropes controlling the curtains; according to her father, they were a tad too loose for the comfort of whomever was in charge of maneuvering the heavy drapes. She had set Ichabod to steadying a portion of the rope just above her head. As for her, she tried to secure what was left of the sorry, fraying things to metal hooks fixed on the cedar wall. It was with little success, though.  And...well, even she wasn't stubborn enough to deny her quickness to anger. Right when she was finished with a string of insults enunciating the rope's decrepit quality, she jerked the rope towards her in an attempt to force some semblance of a knot together. Said attempt backfired. Badly. The rope snapped, and the sandbag above them- the one item that held the entire rope together- went plummeting down onto poor Ichabod's right arm. 

...And that also happened to be where his joint-locking gears were housed. Who knew? If he had been able to feel pain, he imagined that it would have hurt like the dickens.  Two flights of stairs and a ridiculous amount of griping later, here they were now, lit in the rose gold splendour of Rosie's room (that, somehow, only she could make chaotic). Various wires and cogs had been strewn all over the bed where she had Ichabod sat. And apart from the occasional snarky quip, the two had settled into...somewhat comfortable silence. But that didn't mean it needed to remain for forever. Rosie's repairs didn't normally take this long; they had been up here for nearly an hour since the incident. What had she encountered? "So..." Trying to sound nonthreatening, Ichabod used his free hand to twiddle with a frayed wire sticking out of his wound. "What's th' damage, Doc?" Rosie took a moment to respond; whether it was out of concentration or aggravation, he wasn't sure. When she did finally speak, though, her words were preluded by a weighted sigh. "Nothing impossible to mend...but that still doesn't mean it'll be done by sundown. I'll have to coax Mama into making you a cast..." Her words trailed off for a moment; in a blink-and-you-miss-it instant, her eyes darted away from her patient towards the left-most corner of her room...towards her Mama's sewing box.  Wait. How much fabric did she have left? The jolts of concern twanging through his crossed wires kept growing stronger. Because...well, it had been her fault. Obviously. Ichabod knew that well. But the way he saw it, that didn't mean her Mama had to coax the estate driver to make a run into town just to repair his painless limb. "Ya know that ain't necessary, man. I-" "Hush." "Aw, but I'm-" "Shut. Up. You know the answer to that well, you goose," she quipped, trying desperately to hide the smirk sprouting across her face... He squinted, looking down a tad. Hm. Should he keep up the bluff? ...Nah.  "Well, honk, honk," he sneered, booping her nose, "ya prissy-" "Oh my God, stop-!" "Aah!! Alright, man, I quit! I quit!!" She had grabbed Ichabod's finger and pulled with absolutely no mercy, the force of her grasp making him fall into a heap on the carpet below. "Take that, you pile of bolts."  "...But I'm a crippled man." "Oh, boo-hoo." The two stared each other down, with all the fake animosity and badly-disguised mirth that best friends have.  And their facade died the moment Rosie's smirk finally slipped.  The two laughed. They chortled in their spots, broken appendages and all, until Rosie could hardly breathe and Ichabod's last remaining wires threatened to burst under the pressure of his artificial oxygen. After all, what else could they do? He was only a robot, true, but he knew a fair bit about life...and this confrontation made him remember one very important thing.  One's time on Earth, whether human or otherwise, is far too short to remain in anger for long.  Let it dissolve...just like rust on platinum skies. ---------------------------------------------------- - Thanks for reading!! - Suggestions are not just appreciated; they're encouraged. ----------------------------------------------------

[rosieathearthside]

*CHANGING THIS TO MY PINNED POST UNTIL NEXT FRIDAY AROUND 5 PM CST; LISTEN UP, Y'ALL*

...So. Good news, guys. Life's slowed down a tad since the new year started. I'm still too busy to make art and super-detailed stuff like that, but I've got a little bit more time to sit and ponder life than I used to. And lo and behold, in light of this, a Tumblr mutual made me have an epiphany- what if I started uploading small one-shots/drabbles to here, like I used to do sometimes on Scratch? So that's exactly what I'm doing now. I've already lined out two stories, in fact! One's a peek into the Life and Times of Rosie and Ichabod™️, and the other's a random drabble I did, like, two months ago and completely forgot about until now. XD Thanks again, @overwhelmedfernfrond. I haven't known you for long, but man, you're already awesome in my book. <33 ---------------------------------------------------- Details: - Don't expect any schedule. Like, none whatsoever. Y'all know me. XD - I'll also be uploading these small drabbles to Wattpad, and posting links to that site if people would like to read it there. (You can access Wattpad books while signed out; don't worry!) - Depending on how this goes, I -might- start accepting oneshot commissions. Like, that's a huge "if", but still. Lemme get into the groove of things, and we'll see how this goes from there.

---------------------------------------------------- So...yeah. That's pretty much all I got! Thanks for reading, guys. I hope y'all have a great day/night, and as always, remember to never put popsicles in your coffee. <33 With Platonic <3,

Ros!e

[rosieathearthside]

When your Character...

Gets into: A Fight ⚜ ...Another Fight ⚜ ...Yet Another Fight

Hates Someone ⚜ Kisses Someone ⚜ Falls in Love

Calls Someone they Love ⚜ Dies / Cheats Death ⚜ Drowns

is...

A Child ⚜ Interacting with a Baby/Child ⚜ A Genius ⚜ A Lawyer

Beautiful ⚜ Dangerous ⚜ Drunk ⚜ Injured ⚜ Shy

needs...

A Magical Item ⚜ An Aphrodisiac ⚜ A Fictional Poison

To be Killed Off ⚜ To Become Likable ⚜ To Clean a Wound

To Find the Right Word, but Can't ⚜ To Say No ⚜ A Drink

loves...

Astronomy ⚜ Baking ⚜ Cooking ⚜ Cocktails ⚜ Food ⚜ Oils

Dancing ⚜ Fashion ⚜ Gems ⚜ Mythology ⚜ Numbers

Roses ⚜ Sweets ⚜ To Fight ⚜ Wine ⚜ Wine-Tasting ⚜ Yoga

has/experiences...

Allergies ⚜ Amnesia ⚜ Bereavement ⚜ Bites & Stings ⚜ Bruises

Caffeine ⚜ CO Poisoning ⚜ Color Blindness ⚜ Food Poisoning

Injuries ⚜ Jet Lag ⚜ Mutism ⚜ Pain ⚜ Poisoning

More Pain & Violence ⚜ Viruses ⚜ Wounds

[these are just quick references. more research may be needed to write your story...]

Writing Resources PDFs

[rosieathearthside]

~*Our...Darling Siblings.*~ (Reupload from Wattpad!)

...I suppose it would be easiest to start with the elephant in the room. 

Or, rather, in the Kingdom. Basil Auralius Bareroot. How does one speak the 20-year-old's name without a shiver of terror- of sheer rage- speeding down one's spine? He is the definition of a wall-skirter; he is a water-wader to avoid at all costs.  This is why Kinoko Kingdom, though she hasn't a single relevant charge against him, closes her ears when she hears his rambling whispers. Why she greets him with a sneer when those eyes- those deadly curious eyes- happen to look towards her castle.  Just look at him, children! Heed not his thoughts of treason. I assure you, good people...one of these lovely days...he will be revealed.  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Dang...wait, he doesn't even look-"

𝕾𝖍𝖍! 𝕷𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖓 𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖞, 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖌𝖔𝖔𝖘𝖊.

...Well. Okay, then. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And then, there's his sister. Estera Catherine Bareroot. 

One wouldn't think it, but despite her...unfortunate lineage, she is actually the prime example of a perfect Kinoko adolescent. Her attitude towards the kingdom is profoundly wondrous, her grades have been exemplary ever since childhood...everything about her demeanour is wonderful. No surprise there, really; her parents- Dyana and Noah- were sure to tighten their iron fist once Basil was old enough to leave the house. Now, at the ripe age of 16, she is blossoming like never before. 

But...well. There is still something a tad strange about her. Sometimes, if one happens to glance at her during class at Upper Kinoko Prep...one can see the deepest of sadnesses behind her eyes. 

Ah...some roots run quite deep, do they not? But it is inconsequential in the end- after all, once Estera becomes a legal adult, she will be able to truly reap the rewards of her harvest. 

Then, all traces of sorrow will surely leave her eyes. 

Such is the blessing for those with a strong dogma, a faith devout and everlasting. 

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So...yeah! These are the main protagonists of my DSMP fic. Don't worry, they're fine...completely fine.

This was drawn traditionally, and considering that 75% of all this was done in the dead of night, I'm pretty freakin' happy with how they turned out. (This was actually my first time ever drawing out Basil, too, so that's even better!!)

I do have one or two sketches of Estera from the past, so I'll go ahead and post the most recent/lore-accurate version of her here: 

(Yes, she is indeed capable of smiling. Not gonna lie, it took a hot minute to figure out how to make her look sane in that first drawing. Seriously, those rough drafts of eyes bordered on psychopathic. XD) 

Thanks so much for viewing, guys, and remember to never put popsicles in your coffee!!

With Platonic <3,

Ros!e

[rosieathearthside]

~*Background Art*~ (Reulpload from Wattpad)!

Basically, the story behind this is that Wattpad only accepted around 2 megabytes worth of photo space for profile background images, and the drawing I had tried to do was around 6 or 7. Full post chaos ensued. XD Oh, and also: the shadow in the background is supposed to be a girl fidgeting with her hair or tying a necklace back or something; I don't really freakin' know anymore. I realised a while back that that looks like one hell of an optical illusion at first glace, so I figured I'd clear that up for any askers in the comments! I hope you guys enjoy! Hope you have a great one, and as always, remember to never put popsicles in your coffee.

With Platonic <3,

Ros!e

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[rosieathearthside]

10 Non-Lethal Injuries to Add Pain to Your Writing

If you need a simple way to make your characters feel pain, here are some ideas: 

1. Sprained Ankle

A common injury that can severely limit mobility. This is useful because your characters will have to experience a mild struggle and adapt their plans to their new lack of mobiliy. Perfect to add tension to a chase scene.

2. Rib Contusion

A painful bruise on the ribs can make breathing difficult, helping you sneak in those ragged wheezes during a fight scene. Could also be used for something sport-related! It's impactful enough to leave a lingering pain but not enough to hinder their overall movement.

3. Concussions

This common brain injury can lead to confusion, dizziness, and mood swings, affecting a character’s judgment heavily. It can also cause mild amnesia.

I enjoy using concussions when you need another character to subtly take over the fight/scene, it's an easy way to switch POVs. You could also use it if you need a 'cute' recovery moment with A and B.

4. Fractured Finger

A broken finger can complicate tasks that require fine motor skills. This would be perfect for characters like artists, writers, etc. Or, a fighter who brushes it off as nothing till they try to throw a punch and are hit with pain.

5. Road Rash

Road rash is an abrasion caused by friction. Aka scraping skin. The raw, painful sting resulting from a fall can be a quick but effective way to add pain to your writing. Tip: it's great if you need a mild injury for a child.

6. Shoulder Dislocation

This injury can be excruciating and often leads to an inability to use one arm, forcing characters to confront their limitations while adding urgency to their situation. Good for torture scenes.

7. Deep Laceration

A deep laceration is a cut that requires stitches. As someone who got stitches as a kid, they really aren't that bad! A 2-3 inch wound (in length) provides just enough pain and blood to add that dramatic flair to your writing while not severely deterring your character.

This is also a great wound to look back on since it often scars. Note: the deeper and wider the cut the worse your character's condition. Don't give them a 5 inch deep gash and call that mild.

8. Burns

Whether from fire, chemicals, or hot surfaces, burns can cause intense suffering and lingering trauma. Like the previous injury, the lasting physical and emotional trauma of a burn is a great wound for characters to look back on.

If you want to explore writing burns, read here.

9. Pulled Muscle

This can create ongoing pain and restrict movement, offering a window to force your character to lean on another. Note: I personally use muscle related injuries when I want to focus more on the pain and sprains to focus on a lack of mobility.

10. Tendonitis

Inflammation of a tendon can cause chronic pain and limit a character's ability to perform tasks they usually take for granted. When exploring tendonitis make sure you research well as this can easily turn into a more severe injury.

This is a quick, brief list of ideas to provide writers inspiration. Since it is a shorter blog, I have not covered the injuries in detail. This is inspiration, not a thorough guide. Happy writing! :)

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Check out the rest of Quillology with Haya; a blog dedicated to writing and publishing tips for authors!

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[rosieathearthside]

Oh-! Fancy Seeing You Here, Man!

Don't mind my mildly omnipresent OCs up there/to the left(depends on what link you clicked on to get here). Yes, this is the break room, but it's not a "blogger-only" break room. Sit down, man; rest a spell. And while you're here, lemme tell you how things are around these parts!

~ From here on, please read. I know it's a lot, but it's still important. ~

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Q: What plans do you have for this page?

A: I'm thinking of making this a half-art/writing, half-update blog. Up until this point, I've mainly been posting life updates and stuff on Wattpad, but I'm fairly certain that people can't access these posts without making an account with the site first. And since a lot of people on the great World Wide Web have Tumblr accounts, why not transfer some of those posts here? However, in order for me to do that, you first need to know a few things:

~ I wrote a futuristic, Kinoko Kingdom-esque DSMP fic on Wattpad called "An Herb's Guide To Drowning". You can access that while signed out, so feel free to give it a read if you'd like! ~ As far as major-project-style writing goes, I'm currently on hiatus until further notice. Life do be busy as hell sometimes, y'all. ~ The fic itself is long. Like, we're talking nearly 700 Google Doc pages long. And it has a Mature rating stamped onto it on top of that. So if you're not at least 15, I'd really prefer if you didn't read this thing.

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Q: What fandoms are you in? What sort of art-based nonsense can we expect from here?

A: Oh, God, a lot. Recently, I've been drowned head-first into the lovely world of indie animation- specifically (and not in order of importance), Murder Drones, Lakadaisy, The Amazing Digital Circus, ENA, Spooky Month, Cardinal Garden (when it comes out), and possibly a few more that I can't think of right now. I also love the Dream SMP/Quackity SMP, Animaniacs/Pinky and The Brain (both the original and the reboot), YouTube storytime animators (Jaiden Animations, Rebecca Parham/Let Me Explain Studios, etc.), Vocaloid/UTAULoid, and Broadway...a lot of freakin' Broadway.

Basically, expect chaos of the highest degree. XD

(I also have a small art book on Wattpad, if you'd like to go check that out! When I make art, I'll post both on the book and on Tumblr itself.)

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Q: What other socials do you have?

A: YouTube and Scratch. Keep in mind, though, YouTube is, without question, the more active one out of those. I've had the Scratch for nearly three years now, and it's literally just for DSMP roleplays at this point. (Help me.)

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Q: Who the heck are the OCs?

A: Ichabod and Rosie! Ichabod's a Tale Foundry-ish robot with a bit o' a Southern twang to his tongue, and Rosie's his...creator. Kind of. I haven't quite finalised their lore yet. They're crazy. XD

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Q: Anything else we need to know about you? Any guidelines for behaviour and stuff?

A: I'm so glad you asked. XD

~ I am Christian. There are heavy amounts of Christian references in the fanfic, and there will most likely be Christian talk/references on here.

~ There is a possibility that mature topics will be discussed on this blog, mainly along the lines of violence. As a good guideline, if you're under 15, proceed with extreme caution before scrolling.

~ Do not repost/reupload any of my art/stories without first asking me on here. Keep in mind, if you just ask, the answer will most likely be yes!

~ You ARE free to make fanart/animations/continuation stories of my stuff, as long as you put in your description something along the lines of "this was inspired by ______", along with a link to my profile/whatever you're referencing. If you have any questions about what you can and cannot make, please, please, PLEASE ask me.

~ No explicit discussion/topics on this blog. Not even in the comments, please. I'm going to say the same thing I said on Wattpad- if you wouldn't say what you're about to comment to a 13-year-old, then please don't say it at all.

~ No commissions, please. Again, life do be pretty darned busy at the moment. <33

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...Well. I think that's pretty much it! If you guys have any further questions, don't hesitate to ask! I hope you guys have an awesome time on here (and an awesome rest of your day/night). And as always, remember to never put popsicles in your coffee! With Platonic <3,

Ros!e