no wound


This tawny owl was brought into us after being hit by a car. On examination our vets found that the owl had a badly damaged eye, along with blood in the mouth and ears. It was deteriorating quickly and needed emergency surgery.
Emma, our vet, set to work, removing the damaged eye before suturing the eyelids closed. Although not common, one-eye owls do well in the wild and this one has already been seen flying and feeding for itself!
It is now recovering in one of our secluded raptor pens and we are keeping our fingers crossed for a successful release

The skin, love-sung.
Light, broken, confetti through streaked glass.
A struggle of songbirds in shadows, breeze-hushed.

Bitter pooling in the bottom of the sweet.
The pulsing ache of the wounded, wounding world,
opening and closing, filled and emptied,

LeighAnna Schesser, from “The Politics of Being,” Heartland (Anchor & Plume, 2016)

{{ I’m embarrassed and instead of working on those asks I’ve been doing this, but IM GOING TO TRY THIS OUT?? }} low key tag dump

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i found the place to rest my head (never let me go)

pairing: fitzsimmons

genre: light angst, 4x15ish

rating: G


“We’ll find them.“

“Of course we will.”

Tomorrow, they will move heaven and hell and everything in between to save the day.

But tonight, they’ll rest.

go forth



1) Venue hire costs
2) Who to invite
3) The complete and total incineration of society
4) Cake

times i should have died but didn't

1. the night in the car flying down the highway, thighs bruised from fucking the boy who did not know your last name, brain buzzed from vodka and heroin, pulling into an empty parking lot and calling your therapist crying

2. the scene with the glinting brake lights and the sound of metal screeching, vision goes blurred as the car skids across the freeway, someone is screaming in the background and you wonder what it will feel like to finally die

3. it is the middle of summer and you are possessed by the devil, watching yourself from above as you bring the blade down on your arm hard, your mind goes blank & then you are sitting in the bathroom in your underwear crying hysterically as the white fat gapes up at you and the blood pools on the floor

4. the one with the blue lights flashing and the boy on top of you, nausea lurches in your stomach, hours later you are half-conscious & half-dead puking your guts out for everyone and god to see, you wonder through the haze if this is one mistake you cannot take back


In this place, in this universe, we are together for eternity

Sherlock kept a photo of John with him during his time in Serbia. The photo got crinkled during the two years. A little faded. Damps destroying a part of it. It was just a normal photo. The type of stiffed lipped, no smile photo for driving licenses etc. Sherlock stole it before he disappeared. One day, he lost the photo. And never found it again. Maybe it just fell from his pocket during one of his runs. And when his captors left him in the cold hardened floor after beating him into a pulp, Sherlock just laid down there. The pain was bearable, because it was more painful to him that he lost that photo. He didn’t even trust his mind palace. What if he forgets what John looks like.

When Mycroft showed him John’s photo for the first time, Sherlock hated it and loved it at the same time. He almost made the mistake of asking Mycroft for it.

At least I am gonna see him now. I can touch him. He ran his own hand over his lip. I wonder if I like bristly kisses for the first time. My god I hate that mustache.

And he got touched. Yes. Not like the way he wanted.

John tackled him in the ground and opened his wounds.

John doesn’t know. I don’t blame him.

Didn’t get the kiss. Just got some wounds reopened.


That night, a single tear fell down from Sherlock’s eyes while dressing his wounds.

At least he touched me.

@addignisherlock @predictably-unpredictable @the-blue-carbuncle @consultingeastwind @johnnlocked @loveinthemindpalace @savedbyholmes

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