#henryk lavender

[moris-i-cant-move-it-anymore]

FUN FACT ABOUT HENRYK

He has a syndrome called 'visual snow's by what he sees like this

[flying-pierog-art]

🌈 all

The questions

Do you associate any colors with them?

(Btw I'm gonna answer with the drawings of those ocs for people who might be reading this and haven't seen them-)

Tom: Currently Red! :D it always matched his personality and now also his eyes!

Skyler: Either blue (cause it's litterally the color of the sky) or lavender (GAYY) (but also a lavender hoodie is something I often draw him wearing)

Matylda: White (symbolising purity :) ) and orange!

Karo: Indigo!

Charlotte: Yellow (obviously, not only cause of her light powers but now it's also a major part of her colour pallette lol)

Henryk: Brown

Raphael: Light Blue!

Camille: ...Also definitely blue? (I just like blue ok? I can't help it 😭😭)

[feartheoldblog]

Ok this is now An Ask

You mentioned you love assigning flowers to characters.

What flowers would you assign to Bloodborne characters??? I'm fascinated

Not a full/official list but yes, Bloodborne character flowers. I was going to go into specific colours and a description of why I chose them but I’m tired right now (wanted to answer this as fast as possible though). I’ll probably update this with a proper explanation (and more characters) tomorrow :)

The vast majority of these are based off symbolism but one or two are just based off the vibe I get from them, honestly.

Freesia: Gascoigne

Gorse: Henryk

Lavender/Anemone: Gehrman

Gladiolus: Maria

Thistle: Gilbert

Heather: Chapel Dweller

Snowdrop: Plain Doll

Wild Foxglove: Iosefka

Petunia: Valtr

Wolfsbane: Brador

Aster: Caryll

Clematis: Laurence

Iris: Ludwig

Bonus pic of a lovely Peacock Butterfly putting on a show on our (not so lovely) climbing rose plant during summer

[twinprime]

i was tagged by @serialcannibal and @criticalbread to post 13 songs ive been listening to recently, thank u for tagging me!! now you all get to see my wild taste in music

1. bad bad things by ajj

2. no children by the mountain goats

3. scherzo-tarantelle by henryk wieniawski

4. bleeding by parrotfish

5. faust / ronde du veau d’or by charles gounod

6. hayloft by mother mother

7. broken crown by mumford and sons

8. lavender blood by fox academy

9.  Судно (Борис Рыжий) by molchat doma

10. string sextet in d minor, “souvenir de florence” mvt 1 by tchaikovsky

11. rhinestone eyes by gorillaz but specifically the slowed down version

12. stupid horse by 100 gecs

13. stupid horse by 100 gecs but its the folk punk cover

tagging @marg0t-verger @life-but-make-it-gay-and-witchy @hanniba1 @wills-graham @felix-is-bby @madness-shared-by-two and anyone else that wants to do it!!

[covrtofnightmares]

( HENRYK &&. CALLIOPE ) + @lepinedoree

There was something almost somber about sunsets in the Spring Court. Brilliant blotches of rose gold, orange, and soft lavenders streaked across the sky, like spilled paint splattered across a blank canvas. Its brilliance was awe-inspiring; dizzying for those who weren’t familiar with the intense and captivating beauty of the Spring Court. Henryk had been born in the mountains of the Night Court, which held its own sort of dark and glittering beauty to it, but looking out at the rolling hills and chirping bluebirds that flitted from tree to tree, Henryk Wolfe couldn’t imagine making a home out of anywhere else in all of Astralis.

It was strange, the sense of peace he felt in a place that was teeming with war and unspoken threats.

Henryk unfurled his large, black-grey wings, his eyes closing briefly as he felt the sun’s dying rays warm his wings with the small gust of balmy air that rolled through the valley. He was perched at the top of a hill, just underneath his favorite magnolia tree on the edge of the castle grounds, surveying the soft, lush terrain before him. Hearing the rustle of feet behind him, Henryk presumed it was the arrival of the servant with the chilled wine he’d requested. Without bothering to turn around, his eyes still scanning the horizon for a sign, Henryk parted his lips and spoke.

“Leave the drinks on the table behind me. I’ve no need of it just yet.”

[crowmasayoshi-blog1]

Basics:

Full Name: Kemono

Nickname/s: Masayoshi Son, Crow

Age: 463

Date of Birth: After the first rice harvest, 1554 A.D.

Gender: Cis-male

Preferred Pronouns: He/Him/His

Species:  Faerie

Birth place: Mio, Japan

Current living situation:  Lives in a blue row house with his little sister

Occupation:  Social worker for Frost’s Home, hair stylist

Appearance:

Height: 6′4″

Build: Lean and lanky

Skin Tone: Tan

Hair Color: Black

Eye Color: Black

Glasses or Contacts:  No

Birthmarks/Scars: Intense whip scarring on his back

Tattoos/Piercings: None

Left handed/Right handed: Right handed

Most Prominent Feature: His rather obsessively tended hair

Clothing Style: Fluid, tends towards formalwear

Face Claim: Godfrey Gao

Relationships:

Parent’s Names: Masayoshi Yoshitsune, Emi

Relationship with Parents: It’s hard to tell who did the worst damage to him, his mother or his father.

Sibling’s Names: Masayoshi Hana

Relationship with Siblings: He loves his sister a great deal more than he loves himself.  He essentially raised her. Theirs is a relationship straight out of Lilo and Stitch.

Pets: This man has too many pets.

Best friends: He’s a hard man to get to know in that sense.

Foes: Henryk Barczak

Relationship Status: Single

Sire: N/A

Fledglings: N/A

Pack Members: N/A

Coven Members: N/A

Personality:

What would be their Character Archetype: The Martyr/The Hanged Man

Strongest Character Trait/s: Surliness, Self-sacrifice

Weakest Character Trait/s: Self-preservation, self-esteem

Phobias/Fear/s: Losing control of himself, hearing other people chew

Biggest Secret/s:  His name

Bad Habits: Putting himself and his needs so far below his sister’s that they might as well be on the ocean floor. Judging people for their hair.

Obsessions: Hair. Especially on other men. Especially when it’s red.

Religion: Atheist, sometimes follows Shinto rituals

Sexuality: Gay as springtime

Zodiac Sign:  Doesn’t care.

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor

Moral Alignment:  Chaotic Good

Opinion on Drug use: Seen too many go down this road.

Opinion on Alcohol use: Seen too many go down this road—indulges occasionally in moderation, usually in moments of weakness.

Opinion on Swearing: Fuck the fucking fuckers.

Quirks:

Hobbies: Hairstyling. Music.

Language/s spoken: Too many. Polyglot.

Outdoors or Indoor Person: Indoor.

Instruments they play: Shamisen.

Favorite Type of Music: Alternative / rowdy folk

Favorite Color: Blue

Favorite Food: Rice

Favorite Animal: Dogs

Favorite Place to Travel: India

Favorite Holiday: The spring festival in China

Favorite Book: Kafka on the Shore, audiobook

Favorite Movie: He saw all of Akira Kurosawa’s films in theaters

Favorite Scent: Lavender

Instagram/Twitter/Tumblr Handle: theribaldraven

What does their voicemail message sound like: “Hello, this is Crow Masyoshi. Please leave a message after the beep.”

Past /Future:

What were they like as a Child: Angry and belligerent

Did they grow up Rich or Poor: Poor

Did they grow up Nurtured or Neglected: Deeply neglected

What did they want to be when they grew up: Alive

Smell that Reminds them of their Childhood: Low tide

Best Childhood Memory: The day his father took him from his brothel.

Worst Childhood Memory: Being dragged from his home and whipped while his mother looked on, holding his sister.

Future goals: Learn to read

Are they/do they want to get Married: No/No

Do they have/want to have Kids: No/Confused issue

Do they want to grow old: Yes

Will they ever settle down somewhere: Unlikely

[gloriousmonsters]

on the plus side of today I’m starting to write a short story in the first time in a couple weeks. well, I’ve tried writing in the last couple weeks but it’s always turned out awful and stilted. so I’m just gonna throw a snippet of this weird shit under a cut b/c I don’t want to submit the general populace to my original writing but I also crave validation and it occurs to me ya’ll haven’t seen an excerpt of my writing in a long time

Henryk Król was washing dishes, looking out at the setting-sun light shuddering through the trees—considering, without real conviction, whether the trees should be trimmed, to let more light through; whether he had any right to trim the trees, seeing as after two years of residence he was still unsure where his yard ended and the forest began—when the boy knocked on the edge of his screen door, and came into the kitchen a moment later. Henryk had fallen out of the habit of locking his door during the day; here, unlike in the city, it was unnecessary. And locking your door at night was only because of the animals, raccoons with their thieving ways and curious deer, occasionally a bear. Not boys with bare feet.

“What happened to your shoes?” Henryk asked. Even little boys did not run around barefoot like they used to, his husband had told him once; not in America, at least. And this boy existed in the grey area between boy and man, slight enough to be a teenager, wiry and solemn-faced enough to be a young man. He wore ripped, dusty trousers and a grey hoodie worn so thin in patches Henryk could glimpse his ribs; no shirt, no shoes. No service, Henryk’s mind supplies, and he almost smiles. The boy still seems unreal, like a preview of his usual unsettling dreams tonight. 

“Nothing,” the boy said. “Are you the surgeon?”

Henryk dried his hands and hung up the towel, keeping the boy in the corner of his eye. “I was a surgeon. Why do you ask?”

The boy took another step forward and tugged his hoodie off, scattering pine needles across the floor. The scent of the forest moves into the kitchen, battling the metallic smell of hot water from the pipes, the false-fresh sweetness of Natural Scent Lavender Soap. Using his skinny hands to frame the area, he indicates a patch of skin—to the left on his stomach—that looks exactly the same as the rest. “There’s something wrong inside me,” he said flatly. “It needs to be taken out.”

Henryk moved slowly as he picked the hoodie up and handed it back to the boy, who took it reluctantly; part of it is the care he’s begun to take, past sixty-five, and partly he feels as if he’s in the room with a wild animal. Doesn’t want to spook it. “What is your name?” he asked.

The boy chewed on his lip, glanced over his shoulder. “Mort.”

It’s a blatant falsehood; the forest behind him is the Mortmain Forest. Henryk lets it slide for the moment. “Mort, I am two years retired. There is a doctor down in the village; you should get examined before you have surgery. Have you been examined?”

Mort scowled. “I don’t need it. I know what’s wrong.”

“How?”

“I feel it.” He touches the place again, gently, as if it’s sore. “My father always said some people were brain smart, and some people are body smart. I’m body smart. I know when something’s wrong; I just can’t fix it.” He looked at Henryk almost imperiously. “Aren’t you supposed to help people?”

“I am supposed to help my patients. There is a process to becoming a patient. I would not want to hurt anyone by rushing into something.”

Mort’s scowl deepened. “Didn’t you take an oath?”

“The Hippocratic? It would have been foolish of me to. It prohibits the use of a knife, among other outdated stipulations.”

“I solemnly pledge to consecrate my life to the service of humanity. That one.”

Henryk looked at Mort with new interest. “The Declaration of Geneva. It’s less well-known.”

Mort didn’t provide an explanation; just gestured at his stomach, a get-to-it-then gesture.

[moris-i-cant-move-it-anymore]

I drew Moris's older brother!!

Meet Henryk Lavender!