#nobody cares sorrel

[ashennightingale]

wish I could harness my abuse victim rage tm into like. energy. motivation. instead I am sitting in bed feeling sick from how angry I am ✌️

#the meds are unlocking my emotions so while yes my mood is capable of being better #i am also so so angry. & tired. how is it managing to get *worse* it was already *awful* living here #mostly tho i keep crying . possibly bc ive had that depression apathy for a decade at least & now it is So Much #sorrel speaks #nobody cares sorrel

[stillfrownyclownlol]

I will also talk about Tyler because he's also not normal about stuff 🫠

Right from the start you get these signs he's protective to a detrimental level lol

(BTW Aidlyn scene cuz I'm not normal about them ❤️ The way he literally wraps his whole body in front of her sent me lmao. Mans got his leg around her and everything 🤡)

He's pretty much like this with Taylor in all their scenes. In the Sorrel House he puts his arm in front of her when they see the phantom (that he does not think is real, considering his reaction).

He also has a tendency to drag Taylor away from situations with out asking for her opinion on it 🫠 He just kinda assumes she will want to go with him. Like when he drags her out of the house after saying the phantom was just a prank.

Sir. PLEASE. Kinda possessive of you-

I don't think Red did this on purpose because like. She hasnt really brought up their culture/heritage or anything in the story so far lmao (I'm crying). But idk like just this behavior reminds me a lot of the guys in my family 🙃 I think Latino boys get kind of socialized to be more aggressive and protective of their families at their own expense. He definitely seems like the kind of brother to impose a curfew- He has control issues like. We all see it right? He's a control freak.

Obviously his dad dying has a lot to do with this. His mother took it extremely hard, so then Tyler "stepped up" to take care of both his mom AND his sister, he's been parentified since a very young age (he doesn't look older than 10 imo). I think he feels a need to "be the man of the house" so to speak. He genuinely does not seem to have any hard feelings towards his mom even tho she...you know, fucked up. if any of you know the "latino boys are mama boys" cliche, but.

yeah.

(I do think Taylor has more mom issues because she kinda resents how Tyler has been parentified and she's allowed herself to be angry at their mom for leaving them to fend for themselves)

Sidenote: It looks like his family is very isolated. Like, its strange that nobody came to help Marianna after Ethan died. This isn't always the case but usually Latinos have large families (my mom's family had to push together eight beds so all the cousins could sleep in one room lol) WHICH probably means Tyler's branch of the family is, so far, the first and only to have immigrated to the US. He's probably already a second or third generation tho, his mom has only one surname and he and his sister never seem to speak Spanish, so I don't think they learned it (probably some basics). I don't imagine they've ever been to Mexico except MAYBE when they were very young (its kinda rare to visit...since...it's so hard to get out of there in the first place...🫠 I dont think my parents have been to Venezuela in more than 20 years...but also Venezuela is in way worse condition, so...)

But yeah like. His protectiveness of Taylor is something that actively works against her and something she dislikes. She always looks upset when he drags her out of a situation or tells her what to do. She just wants to help :(

BABYYYYY 🥲

Ofc she never says anything because for most of her life Tyler has put himself in a position of authority and is her caretaker. It's hard to speak up to somebody when they constantly say "I'm doing this for your own good, for your own safety, for-" Whatever. Taylor always believes Tyler does everything for her own best interests, so... even when she doesn't feel good about something, she'll still listen to him. It's a veryyyyyy slippery slope that can quickly become toxic, if it isn't already. Because besides being her brother, he's put himself as her parent figure as well.

He does the thing. You know. Where parentified kids try to overcorrect so they kind of coddle their own children and don't let them do anything because they're scared to death something is gonna happen to them 💀

I don't really know what the point of this was I just wanted to talk about how possessive Tyler can be and how unhealthy his attachment style is 😭 If I write Tyler and Logan angst tho just know it's gonna involve Tyler being overprotective and Logan being Not Cool TM about it 🫠

#sbg #school bus graveyard #school bus graveyard webtoon #sbg (webtoon) #tyler hernández #taylor hernández

[feytouched]

i miss the smell of sap. not from a garden that i have to mind and control, but from wild weedy things. like when i was a kid and i did not have to take care of anything and so could play all summer with the invasive vines of morning glories and the wood sorrel flowers nobody planted

#ką sako lapė #we've reached the point in winter when i start missing green & sunshine

[paraliveimaginesblog]

sorrel, red rose, peony, yellow tulips, purple hyacinth for ryu please

Ryu Natsume:

🌻peony: how do they get their s/o to blush? how does their s/o make them blush?

It’s shockingly easy for Ryu to make you blush. He likes to launch surprise love attacks, showering you in kisses or squeezing you tight regardless of who was around. Most others, specifically the ones very familiar with his antics, don’t even blink an eye at his open shows of affection anymore. They’d be more worried if he suddenly kept his distance from you. Yet somehow, he still managed to surprise you with his love every time (much to his delight).

You’ve got your work cut out for you if you want to make him blush. He’s always thrilled and unbothered no matter what you throw his way. He gets extra happy when you hold his face in your hands and use lovey dovey nicknames, so you might see a blush slip through if Ryu was really in the need for reassurance. 

🌻purple hyacinth: how would they react if their s/o died?

There’s an emptiness that takes hold of him, his heart in a vice-like grip. It was like losing a piece of himself, and to him, who still questioned who he truly was, that was too much to cope with. The act he puts on convinces nobody, but he’s lucky in a sense to be around others who had lost people they dearly loved as well. He will be taken care of, no matter how much your death might change him.

🌻red rose: what turns them on the most? 

Ryu likes when you bite back. It doesn’t have to be literal, just getting a little feisty makes Ryu light up. It’s a change of pace to have someone match his energy so it’s only natural that it gets him excited.

🌻sorrel: do they use any nicknames/pet names for their s/o?

Probably calls you like his fish king or queen or something odd that makes zero sense to you, or anyone else, but makes perfect sense to him.

🌻yellow tulips: if their s/o is sad, what would they do to make them smile again?

Anything that he can. Ryu can sense when you’re down in the dumps even if you’re faking a smile; he’s surprisingly aware of your feelings, even moreso than his own at times. He acts goofier than normal but he switched moods with the snap of a finger if he saw his jokes weren’t making you smile, trying to figure out a different way to pull you out of your slump.

#Ryu Natsume #Natsume Ryu #Paradox Live #Paralive #Paralive Imagines #Paradox LIve Imagines #Ryu Natsume x Reader #Plant Meme

[hermitcraftheadcanons]

Tinfoilchef's branch mine is so long that he has ended up in whole different servers.

Of course nobody notices him unless they happen to dig into his mine by accident. When Tfc meets this new server fella he stops to talk with them for a while, listening to their stories and telling his.

He never knows what servers he has accidentally mined into but he doesn't really care. "The grind never stops" they say.

When TFC logs out, he’s generally not going to bed the way that other hermits might. He’s just mined into a different server again. He logs back in when he sends his materials back to Hermitcraft chunks. Doc generally puts a chunk loader in those hazy areas between worlds to make sure that TFC’s mine carts actually make it all the way home and don't lag bomb the server when TFC himself decides it’s finally time to come back and loads them all in at once.

– Mod Sorrel

#tfc #tinfoilchef #hermitcraft #mod sorrel

[black-mesa-slut-voice]

Domesticated headcrab adopts!

More info, rules + availability below the cut + okay to rb!

Hello! If you’re here, you’re most likely interested in owning a pet headcrab of your own! While you can always find a specific one of your liking, it’s always a good idea to turn to adoption to help out headcrabs in need (and your local artist)!

If you’re serious about adoption, I recommend you glance over Your Beginner’s Guide to Headcrab Domestication first!

So what is this, really?

If you’re really not sure how adopts work, it’s simple. I have little premade, pre-designed characters that you can purchase, and then they become your characters! You can then use them however you’d like; they’re now your OCs!

Obviously, I don’t own the rights to headcrabs in general- they still belong to Valve- but I sort of have the rights to my domesticated headcrab headcanons, so these specific designs will belong to you!

Okay, I’ll bite. What’re the deets?

Each character is $15 USD as a base! For that, you’ll get all rights to the design. You can rename, redesign, gift, or alter the characters to your liking after you buy them. I’ll give you the large, transparent image of your crab as well! They’re all yours!

For $25 USD, I’ll make a nice, fancy little ref sheet with at least a few cleaned, colored sketches to go along with it! Not only that, but any designs that you’ve bought from me are always 10% off if you ever commission me to draw them again!

Are there any rules?

Yep! Here’s the rules: - Prices are listed in USD! I use paypal, and paypal only for the most part. - First come, first serve, unfortunately. - You MUST pay before you receive any of the rights/images included! - Once purchased, you are free to tweak the design as you please! This includes the name and lore- they’re just fun little suggestions, laid out in the format of an adoption center. You don’t have to follow them at all! - Trades and resells are allowed as long as you sell it for as much as you bought it or less - Please credit me for the design if asked!

Alright! Give me the crabs!

“PRIMROSE” || SOLD Fawned ash standard Primrose is a spoiled little crab who was owned by a sweet little old lady who has since passed away. With nobody in her family wanting to take her, she's now looking for a new home. She's used to being dressed and wearing fang caps! She's a bit spoiled and picky with her food, so looking for someone who doesn't mind giving this little lady a lot of love and attention!

“MILLIE” || SOLD Grey capped Volkov Millie is a shy, albeit feisty Volkov who was rescued from a house that was hosting illegal fighting rings in their backyard. Her left talon and leftmost mandible were infected and had to be amputated, which causes her a bit of difficulty moving around- but she's still fit and spry! Looking for a home who doesn't mind a somewhat skittish crab, after everything she's gone through- who can help bring her out of her shell!

“MEATLOAF” || SOLD Chocolate ticked standard Meatloaf is a large, chunky crab with an interesting orange spotted tint coloration. They're a bit... food motivated, to say the least. A lot of care has to be put into watching them, as they're surprisingly smart when they put their mind into getting into things- and will eat anything they can fit into their mouth. Looking for someone with childproofed cabinets who wants a very friendly and intelligent crab!

“MILK” || SOLD Black and white Saddlehorn Milk is a standard Saddlehorn who was brought in because the former owner was unable to keep up with vet costs. Milk has a lot of internal problems, and had to undergo some intense treatment, and to be kept on a very specific diet. Looking for someone to help Milk maintain this diet and strict regimen and checkups until they feel better!

“CHOCOLATE CHIP” || SOLD Chocolate Siamese nubbed Chocolate Chip is a sneaky little crab, surprisingly small for their age. They were found wandering the streets, and it's presumed they got out of their previous home- which is most likely true, considering their track record of weaseling out of their enclosure! Looking for someone who doesn't mind a very intelligent, active crab, and has lots of time and attention to give!

“PEACHY” || SOLD Snowshoe flaxen standard Peachy came from a well-off home who once again bought a young, fancy breed- and ended up de-beaking him and then neglecting to give him proper attention and care. They were passed on to a few homes because of their rather shy behavior from lack of attention, and are looking to finally get a forever home with someone who wants to bring out the sweet, caring side we know is in this crab! He's de-beaked, with no apparent health concerns visible.

“SHOOMI” || SOLD Fawned flaxen pancake Shoomi is easily one of the most well behaved crabs in our care! They’re extremely docile and good with kids as well! They don’t mind being dressed up or having stickers and such, hence the googly eyes. They’re the only one who didn't particularly hate things being stickied to them. Perfect for a home with kids!

“STACY Q” ||  SOLD False poison Stacy Q is a false poison, who is superbly friendly, albeit... extremely lazy, and more than a little bit hefty. She's perfectly healthy, however! She came from a home that thought they would be 'cool' and 'scary', and was dissapointed when she just sat around all day. She would be a wonderful match for someone who doesn’t mind a somewhat sedentary crab who doesn’t need a lot of attention!

“GUMPY” || SOLD Olive marbled hunchback Gumpy is a hunchback with a bit of an attitude problem. He was part of a nice lineage, but he didn't get along with other headcrabs at all and was given up on. With a little bit of time he might warm up to people, but is probably best left without any other crabs or pets in the house.

“MISS SASHA” || ON HOLD Golden Bata Miss Sasha is a very old Bata, who was a winning showcrab in several runs- but as she got older her beautiful golden color began to fade, and so they took her out of competitions, and want to rehome her. She’s still very playful for her age, and loves to give and receive lots of attention. Good for someone who doesn't mind a sweet old crab who isn't very active anymore, but still has lots of love to give- and preferably can give lots of attention in return, as she gets sad when left alone.

“NGUNI“ || SOLD Fancy Saddlehorn Nguni is a very very unique Saddlehorn with a beautiful, very rare pattern- most likely a showbreed of some sort. However, she was found hit by a car, which mangled her right claw and left her with some scarring. Even more interestingly, despite her unique coloration, her previous owner can't be found, and isn't coming forward to any messaging. Enough time has passed that she's looking to be rehomed to someone who doesn't mind giving her her daily meds and making sure she doesn’t overexert her injured side!

“MAPLE” || SOLD Sorrel smoke pancake Maple is a feisty young crab, who was bought as a present for someone's child, since pancakes are known for their docility- only to find out that Maple was surprisingly aggressive for a pancake. They ended up having to rehome him, out of their children's newfound fear for headcrabs. Looking for someone who doesn't mind a bit of a feistyness in their crab and is willing to work with it to help curb their temper!

If you’re interested, DM me here on tumblr! If you’d like, you can ask for my discord and we can discuss details there as well.

#half life #headcrab #headcrabs #adopts #adopatables #headcrabguide #my art #feel free to rb! it would actually help a lot :''' #i was worried this would be weird since valve like. owns them but #i just like drawing crabs and my friends said i should sell em for like 15 bucks each and so. here i am! #i love them so much im kinda excited for this lol #headcrab adopts

[ignyxdaughter]

𝐗𝐈𝐈𝐈 - 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐋

(𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐨 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 / 𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐨 𝐱 𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬)

READ ON WATTPAD

MASTERLIST

A/N: English is not my first language. I don’t own The Punisher and Legacies characters; they’re, respectively, Stan Lee and Marvel Studios, L. J. Smith and Julie Plec. Also, this is my Billy and some The Punisher events will be changed due to the story's course!

word count: 3600

warnings: the first 2 parts have explicit depression thoughts, implied/referenced self-harm, suicide and psychological meds — please, don't read if you're triggered

────────── ★ ★ ★ ──────────

I wake up at the sound of a knock on the door. It was a tough night, I haven't slept much, especially with the pain on my arm. Of course, is better than before, but stitches itch a lot.

"Ms. Morris?" A young male voice says through the wooden door. Leroy, the teenager who works for Billy.

I sigh and stand up to answer him, that is with a breakfast tray. "This is for you." He looks down at the food. "I thought you might be hungry."

I frown. That's weird. Nobody's never bring me food here; usually, I have to go to the kitchen to have some. "Why's that?"

"Hmmm... 'cause you're anemic?"

Oh, if I won a pound every time I hear that.

"I'm aware of that, thank you."

His hazel eyes get wide. "No! No! What I mean is- Well, I- You clearly need food, and that's not just 'cause of your anaemia! You're doing really well!"

"Leroy."

"I mean, I'd be on the hospital if that ever happen to me!"

"Leroy."

"But like, you need to eat. You're a person and you're really skinny. I don't want you to be like Slenderman—"

"Leroy!" I yell, and he shuts up at the same minute.

He looks down in shame, his cheeks red from embarassment. "I'm sorry, Ms. Morris. I'll- I'll stop talking."

I sigh. It's not his fault if he's shy. "It's ok, Leroy. Just leave the tray on the coffee table."

"Okay..." He does as I said. "Sorry again, Ms. Morris."

I don't answer him, and even if I wanted to, I wouldn't have time, since he flew away from the door. Maybe nervous, maybe ashamed from stuttering, maybe both... Well, it doesn't matter anymore. The teenager is gone, and all due to my lack of patience.

Yesterday wasn't a good day, but, surprisingly, wasn't a bad day either. I woke up, ate breakfast, watched the city view and read the case files, admired the New York's landscape again, set my theories up in my mind, saw Sorrel... I was indeed surprised by her presence, especially after realizing her and Billy were closer than expected. Her light blue eyes were full of worry, while Billy's dark browns were as attentive as a hawk's, watching every movement.

This odd difference made me conclude Sorrel told Billy some things. I know she said the basics to him, but I fear she'd crossed the line. She's my best friend and I trust my life on her, however, I don't know what she might do if my life's threatened — which certainly was, judging the other person was Billy — in a meeting. What if she showed him my family members? What if she told him how to take care of my condition? What if she said some extremely confidential things about my past? Like how I met my father or how I ran away or how I got tuberculosis and hypothermia and—

No. Stop it, Katherine! Sorrel is your best friend! You grown up with her! She'd never betray you, and so wouldn't you.

I hit my head to stop the intrusive thoughts. The ratio must be greater than emotion. It's stupid to think that.

Distraction. I need a distraction.

As if reading my mind, a loud groan shakes up my stomach. I look at my belly and realize I haven't eat for hours! Actually, when was the last time I ate?

Well, I went to bed with an empty stomach, not eating after mine and Billy's talk. I know I had breakfast and lunch and... that's it. I haven't ate for more than 12 hours.

The only reason for that is that it's beginning again. After so many days without medicine, the cycle's started.

First, the feeling that everything and everyone are running while you stay behind. Frozen in place. Observing meaningless life passing by. Too exhausted to move or process what is happening.

Secondly, the memory loss. Ordinary things, so easily to remember, are now nothing but a blur. And when you do remind something, it's after minutes of pure concentration. You forget to eat, to shower, to drink water, to call your friends or family... You're simply there. Nothing more, nothing less.

This triggers the third step: overthinking. You become paranoid, the anxiety making your mind race faster as a F1 race car. If you're not brooding over the past, you're certainly full of "what ifs" in your head, all of them with hypothetical situations that have a chance of 99% of never happen, but can. This 1% is everything that takes to ruin your sanity.

Along with it, comes life questioning. You analyze everything around you just to conclude that all those things are meaningless. Life is meaningless and you're nothing but a burden, letting people carry you around as a dead way.

During all those steps, you feel pain. You can cry, sob, scream, or just feel numb. However, all of this don't ease the crack in your heart or the heavy weight on your shoulders.

Depression is different for everyone, but as years come by you get to know how your mind works. After 10 years, I know very well that mine is self-destructive.

I look at my scarred forearms, a knot on my throat starting to form. The thin white lines are a proof of what I've done to myself after father died. The grief of losing him along with uncle Klaus and aunt Hayley was unbearable. So I started to physically hurt me in hopes to make the psychological pain go away.

It didn't work. Instead, I got worse. So much worse to the point of making this with myself every single day. And when I realized I wouldn't get any better and that I was just hurting my family by worrying them, I planned to meet dad again.

I tried thrice.

First, at my lates 17. I went on the rooftop of an abandoned building to not be seen, however, I had not planned it very well. My phone was with me, and when I was about to throw myself down, it'd vibrated. Hope was calling me, crying for help in a panic attack. I couldn't let my cousin down, so I went to help her. My reunion with father could wait a little bit longer.

Second, at my 18. Poison. The venom was ready and I was at the Russeau's putting it on a cup of whiskey. However, Nick and Michelle entered the pub and, distracted by them, I hadn't seen Mich picking my cup and taking it to the kitchen to be washed. When I questioned her, she said it looked like a rotten drink and that it'd bring me no good. Little did she know that was my intention.

Third, at that same year. This time, I had everything planned. My phone was on my bedroom and I locked myself on the bathroom with a bottle of pills and water. I was about to take them when aunt Keelin knocked on the door, questioning why I wasn't downstairs having dinner with the family. When I didn't answer, she broke the door and looked at me in horror.

I'll never forget her pure frightened face.

I went to a therapist and psychiatrist then. Aunt Keelin confessed she had her suspicions the day I started to use long sleeves in the summer. She and aunt Freya didn't blame me though, actually, they helped me every time and promised to keep it a secret.

I'm glad for them. I really am. But I can't live like this anymore, not without my family. Because now we're all mature and in separate ways, and after the fight... They wouldn't even care if I die.

A knock on the door startles me. I sniff and notice I was crying the entire time. However, there was no time to clean up properly, since Amberly entered the room without caring for an answer.

"Leroy forgot your—" She looks at me in shock, her blue eyes widening a little, but a moment later she seems to recompose herself. "—Juice." She looks down at the cup with a grimace. "Dr. Watson really needs to read the meaning of juice. This looks like death."

Surprisingly, I chuckle at that. And I don't know if it's my blurry vision, but I swear Amberly's dark lips quirk in a small smile. "How can you drink that?"

I clean another tear and take the cup from her, sipping the familiar weird taste of the drink. Orange, kale and liver. This reminds me of my childhood. "My aunt used to make me that every time I decayed. Dad used to call it her magical drink."

She nods. "Dr. Watson's preparing her things. Wanna go downstairs now?" I frown. "She'll look on your arm."

Oh.

"Can you do me a favor?"

"Depends on."

"Don't be nice to me for pity."

Amberly stays still for a bright second, but relaxes quickly with a smirk. "I decided you were tolerable when I saw Dominic complains 'bout you for an hour. The jerk needed to be put on his place."

I scoff with a nod. "He's an idiot."

She chuckles. "He is." There's a short silence between us before she breaks it: "Go there when you're ready. But if you take a lot of time, I'll go here to drag your ass downstairs."

"Seems reasonable."

"Yeah, I'm not paid for being patient. And eat your breakfast! You really need to gain weight."

She's gone a minute later, letting the door open. I sniff again and sit on the bed to drink the rest of the juice and eat my breakfast.

────────── ★ ★ ★ ──────────

Dr. Watson was delicate as far as possible. She examined my arm and decided the cuts were healing well. I didn't look the entire time while she was taking the stitches off; not because of the pain, but of the shame that covered my body. It hurts to know you have a word that so defines you on your skin, forcing you to carry it for your entire life.

The ache in my heart was beginning to be unbearable when the woman's done. I just murmured a "thank you" before going back to my room, not caring if she had any orders. If so, Amberly will certainly tell me.

I close the suite's door with a shaking breath. The knot on my throat slowly fading as the tears wet my face and my whole body tremble. I sob as I touch my arm, the scarred skin roughness a reminder of how I am: shattered. This scar is already gaining the same texture as my back ones, and I know it'll be just as ugly as them.

I sniff while going to bed. If Billy's beauty squad make grimaces of me or pick a dress showing my back, I swear I'll hit, punch or even stab them with something. They're probably so used to top models that will find me horrible. I'm sure some of them will faint when they see my scarred back, the result of being whipped so many times.

I close my eyes with a sigh, trying to take deep breaths to calm myself down. The truth is that everything I do is fake. I'm not confident as I paint myself to be. I'm not strong. I'm not brave. I'm not fearless. I'm not pretty...

I'm ugly. Outside and inside.

I'm only a human that kills for living and is hated by her family. That's what I am.

Oh, if they only know that no one hates me more than myself.

────────── ★ ★ ★ ──────────

Amberly stayed with me the entire time, analyzing each fashion designer and makeup artist like a hawk. The squad's leader is a man called Patrick, a real sweet heart, to be fair. He narrates every step they take, asking if I'm alright or want any changes.

"Has anyone told you you have beautiful eyes?" He says while doing my makeup.

I look at him surprised, although a pain begins to take over my chest. "My family."

He smiles a little. "They're right, then. You're gorgeous." I must've casted him a skeptical glance, because he adds: "I'm not kidding. Darling, if you were ugly, I would've been shut."

I give him a light chuckle.

"You should smile more. It lights you up."

"Thank you", I murmur, letting him finish his job.

It's a long time with brushes of all types on my face while a straightener straightened my hair to then do a ponytail. With the corner of my eyes, I see a royal blue shining dress being ironed by two people while other two debated on the jewels I should use. Patrick is not much of a talker while working, at least not when he's concentrated on the client's eye design.

After some minutes, the man asks if I liked the gown it was chosen for me, and I smile at its beauty. It has one shoulder, with a sash adorning the neck and a sexy slit on the leg. However, my lips falter when I realize my arm will be showed.

"Your smile's gone. What is it?"

"My arm..."

He smiles before gesturing for a woman to come to us with a shining royal blue strip. "We'll cover it with this. If you use an arm bracelet, you might get hurt."

The woman gives me the strip to be analyzed. Its texture is smooth and it's at the same color as the gown. "Yeah... I think it'll fit."

Patrick smirks. "I know, darling. You'll be beautiful! More than you already are, of course."

A few more minutes pass by and I'm finally ready. When I look at the mirror, my jaw drops. For the first time in months, I feel beautiful. The shadow Patrick used highlight my green eyes, the dress the squad chose values my pale skin and underweight body. Moreover, it covers my back scars.

A woman carefully bandages my arm wound with the strip, taking it out of everyone's sight.

"Done." She says. "It won't fall, but avoid moving your arm."

"Dr. Watson said that too", Amberly reminds while taking a sip of champagne. "If you punch someone, use your good arm."

I roll my eyes, but even this comment won't let me down now. It takes me all of my self control to not cry in front of everyone. Finally I'm feeling beautiful. At least now the outside is pretty, since the inside will never be.

────────── ★ ★ ★ ──────────

Katherine's look:

────────── ★ ★ ★ ──────────

Billy's downstairs, at the living room, screaming at someone on the phone when I get there. He's on his usual tuxedo, his black hair and beard tidy. He's handsome as always.

"I don't fucking care if you're hurt, you have to—" He turns around and sees me, his dark brown eyes widening a little. I stay quiet and still, uncomfortable with the thought of going public even though I feel beautiful.

"Have your way there. I don't care." He ends the call without looking away from me. "You look beautiful."

I smile. "You look handsome too."

He scoffs. "That's actually normal, sweetheart."

I roll my eyes. "If you continue like this, I'll take it back."

"Ok. You don't have to be so harsh." I chuckle and he offers me his arm. "Let's go?"

I nod, and take it slowly. We then go to his car with him driving to the event. It's a silent drive; Billy looking at the streets while I admire New York's nosy atmosphere loud. It doesn't matter if it's day or night, dusk or dawn, this city is always busy. It never sleeps.

I wish I could explore it, see if it has the magic everyone talks about, since so far I've just seen trash and arrogant people. Maybe, when all of this is over, I can do that.

"We're here", Billy stops the car, and I look at him in awe. Already?! It all happened so fast! "Now—" he faces me in the eye, "here's what's gonna happen: you're my pair, a friend that I met at a museum."

I raise an eyebrow. "Museum?"

He rolls his eyes. "Everyone knows the MET and it's huge. Plus, it's a tourist trap so—"

WHAT?!

"It's not a tourist trap! It has art and history and so many objects of the past! It helps us comprehend the treasures and falls of ancients civilizations!"

He scoffs. "Ok."

"History is literally every culture based, Russo. It builds the identity of a whole people."

He looks at me for an entire minute and say: "Ok."

Before I could argue more, Billy get out of the car and helps me out too. Although I want to protest and  convince him how MET is not a tourist trap, he offers his arm and begins to murmurs: "Information 'bout Katarina or the case. That's what we're here for."

"I—"

"You're not from here, remember."

"From the US or—"

"US. Make an accent if you want."

I roll my eyes at him. Great. I'll have to show everyone how I really talk, the British accent and vocabulary... It's not a secret I was born in London, but I haven't use my natural English that much; actually, a year after being adopted, I started to fake an American accent in hope for people to understand me. At the beginning, I used it just on the streets, but now it became an habit. The only time I use my British accent is when I'm nervous and desperate.

"Whose mansion is this?" I question as we enter the marble hall. The walls have golden and silver drawings, a big cristal chandelier on the ceiling, cherubins sculptures at some parts of the saloon along with tables and chairs. Behind the dance floor, in front of the tall windows, there's an orchestra. The maestro is conducting the violinists, flutists and cellists to play a beautiful classical song.

"Cypress Lancellotti, the capo of the Vacchiano."

"Are you friends?"

He shrugs. "We get on well."

I nod. "Is there any Arthur in the Vacchiano?"

"Not that I know. Why?"

"Maybe a Lancellotti had sex with his wife and he doesn't know."

He looks at me in shock, but I see the smirk on his lips. "You're a bitch, you know that?"

Now it's my time to smirk. "What's the matter in bringing Camelot's story to nowadays?"

He gives me a light chuckle. "Nothing at all."

When I'm about to reply, a male voice shouts. "Mr. Russo!"

We turn around just to see a man in a white smoking coming to our direction.

"Andrea." Billy greets him. "How are you?"

"I'm wonderful. Things' never been better here!" His Italian accent is pretty noticeable. "Oh, the money we're makin' in this city! Should've moved here sooner."

Billy is ready to say something, but is interrupted by Andrea. "Boss'll be so happy to see you. I hope you're with someo—", he looks at me and his eyes widen. "Oh my God."

I frown. Why is he so suddenly as pale as a paper? "What?"

"Uhm...", he clears his throat. "I'll lead you to boss."

Me and Billy look at each other, both confused, but he breaks the silence. "I thought you were a man with manners, Andrea."

"I am!"

"Then you should know better that you don't excludes a person, especially a beautiful woman." I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes. He really wants to take any advantage of me on this.

"I—", Billy raising an eyebrow to him shuts the man up. "I'm sorry, signorina. It wasn't my intention to demote you. Is just that you remember me someone."

Katarina or Katrina. They're the only answers. "Who?"

"Yes, you'll see. Now, shall we seek for boss?" He leads us through the crowd, where it is noticeable who is the boss of each mafia. They stand out others due to their arrogant and cold faces, some even scolding henchmen. "Just a minute, Mr. Russo."

Andrea goes into a reunited crowd, probably to tell his boss Billy's arrived. Not even a second passed when an albino man in black walks to us. He's eyes are from the purest blue I've ever seen, the black smocking contrasting with the incredibly pale skin, he's strong and tall body make him look like a sculpture from Ancient Greece.

"Billy Russo", he extends his hand to Billy, who shakes it.

"Cypress Lancellotti."

"I'm glad you came, my friend. We have so many things to discuss." He turns to me with a polite smile. "And you must be his escort. It's a pleasure." He takes my hand and gives it a light kiss, making my cheeks heat a little.

"The pleasure is mine for you to accept me on your house", I reply with a British accent, smirking when I see Billy's widened eyes.

"You must meet my beloved. You two look just alike." Ok, this is getting weird. "I didn't catch your name, though. What is it?

A fake name. I need a fake name.

"Ka... trina?!" I exclaim the minute my twin sister get on my sight, graciously lacing her arms around Cypress shoulders. Her now dyed blonde hair is curled down, her makeup highlighting her blue-green eyes. Katrina is in a cyan gown with silver embroideries. She's beautiful, like she always was.

"Hello, sister. How are you doing?"

────────── ★ ★ ★ ──────────

Katrina's look:

#a trap for broken souls #spy au #assassin au #mafiastories #fanfic wattpad #billy russo #mob!billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #billy russo x y/n #billy russo x oc #the punisher #the punisher fanfic #the vampire diaries #the originals #legacies #the mikaelsons #original character

[ashennightingale]

I need out of this fucking house or my organs are going to melt.

#no further context bc im already holding breath so i dont scream and/or break down in tears again #sorrel speaks #nobody cares sorrel

[noah-moth-cursed-chaos]

“Nobody’s coming to save you.”

for five word whump posts

Demo wasn’t sure what they were doing. They’d kidnapped Clockwork. All of Vanna’s secrets would be revealed.

Demo would never have to watch the others be so happy and safe and loved again. He was free. But he still didn’t feel like it was enough. That hole wasn’t filled. And Clockwork didn’t seem too worried. Almost like they knew it wouldn’t last, like Demo didn’t think it would really last. It seemed crazy that everything the Papalardo’s group had could be pulled apart that easily.

He wanted to stop thinking about it. He’d seen Sorrel and Basil mock captives before, it always seemed to make them feel better.

The surveillance robot walked to where the messenger robot was being kept. Clockwork looked up at them. They didn’t seem scared. Maybe they just weren’t scared of Demo. Maybe everyone else could see how uncoordinated and confused and scared he felt most of the time.

He didn’t want to think about that. So. How do you taunt somebody?

“… If you’re waiting for someone you should give up.” He said, was he doing this right? “Nobody’s coming to save you. You’re stuck here now; you better get used to it, Clockwork. Before long your creator and all your little friends will be too.” The other robot didn’t seem happy at that, but it didn’t make Demo feel any better. He felt worse. Maybe he didn’t like scaring people. But he was probably supposed to, right?

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they don’t even notice you’re gone until it’s too late. I bet it hurts. Knowing you’re doomed. That nobody who cares can help you. That you’re all… alone.” Demo paused, “Because you are-alone. Entirely. And you can’t hide anything here. They’ll find every little secret you try to keep away from them-they’ll pick you apart. By the time they’re-by the time we’re done you’ll-“ The taller robot had to face away, “… You won’t like it, whatever it is.” He really wasn’t feeling better, he felt worse. He didn’t even think half of this applied to Clockwork. Maybe he was just saying things he thought about himself? Would anyone miss him if he was gone?

Demo couldn't read the expression on Clockwork's face, but he had the sinking suspicion that they knew that he had no idea what he was doing.

"I. I think I hear Dr.Fury calling me. I'll be back to-taunt you more another time or something." They muttered, quickly leaving the room. Sorrel was working actually, as far as Demo knew. It was a good guess; the scientist was a chronic workaholic. He hated being interrupted, but Demo wanted to talk to him. Maybe he was in a good enough mood to actually pay a bit of attention to the robot. He knocked on the doorframe before walking into the room the human was in. He was hovering over a half-finished gun of some sort. He didn't even look up to see who was knocking.

Just a disinterested "What is it?"

Demo walked in anyway, "Uhm-Dr.Fury?"

"... Tyrex please tell me you aren't broken again." Sorrel's annoyance was barely held back. Part of Demo just wanted to leave now.

"No I uhm-I have a question, sir."

"What?"

"... are you proud of me?"

"... am I what?"

Demo fought back his nervousness, "Are you proud of me? I know you're my creator and I do my job well but-are you proud of me? Do you think I do a good job? Am I-" The robot cut themself off, they didn't really want the answer to 'Am I important to you at all?' "Are you proud of me?" Demo asked again instead.

Sorrel just stared, and then turned back to his work.

"... sir?"

No response.

"Right I uhm. Right. Sorry to bother you. I'll. Just leave you to your work then, we can have this conversation another time maybe?"

Still nothing. Demo would've sighed if they could.

"... or maybe not."

#wriitng #ask #asks #lego experiments undercover

[ferberus-skull]

couples, part 2!

Johnny (he/him) | Amaranthus (he/him) - protective dad and himbo dad <3 Johnny is a nest guard, he protects the kiddos, while Amaranthus is a caretaker. if the kid either doesn't have parents or their parents are busy atm, Amaranthus takes care of them. he's... good at his job, but he also is a total pushover and will let hatchlings do ANYTHING. Johnny is constantly talking to him about that but there is not a single brain cell in Am's head. so he hasn't learned yet. but they're very cute together, very domestic dads who will bake you cookies

Lily (she/her) | Sorrel (she/her) - trans lesbians.... okay, so technically they are no longer together because Sorrel is dead, but they were a couple when Sorrel was alive. and now Sorrel is stuck as a ghost, forever to walk until Lily can find happiness again. which... yeah, Lily never got past the depression stage of grief. (I'm sorry.... you two deserved to be happy :( ... I should get a necromancer dragon to bring Sorrel back to life)

Florus (he/him) | Witchhazel (they/them) - non-binary gardener icons <3 Florus is super sweet and caring and if you hurt his plants he'll just cry. Witchhazel, on the other hand, is sarcastic and snarky and they will mess you UP if you hurt Florus's plants. they also tend to animals as well

Vitra (she/her) | Ita (she/her) - ah, yes... the angry bisexual pirate and her kind lesbian conchologist girlfriend. they got a lot of backstory together, but long story short, Ita saved Vitra's life and Vitra hated her for a while because she was depressed as HELL and didn't want to be saved. but then she slowly fell in love with her and now they're an absolute seafairing power couple. Vitra can and WILL mess you up, Ita will cheer her on. but Ita can also mess you up. she has medical knowledge. she knows where to hit you to make you HURT. also, in their gijinka forms, Ita is taller than Vitra and Vitra is very mad about that

Icarus (he/him) | Ariadne (she/her) - nobody knows how these two work. on one hand, there's Icarus. chaotic neutral gem thief with absolutely no impulse control. and then there's Ariadne. a lawful neutral conjurer who is very to the book. Ariadne is yelling at Icarus about every five minutes to put back the gems he just stole.

#fr #flight rising #my dragon #dragon share #lost stars #forgotten souls #outfit #scry #johnny #amaranthus #lily #sorrel #florus #witchhazel #vitra #ita #icarus #ariadne #one more part to go hbjkm #personal outfit #tapir #jaguar

[ianthedisastrous]

In my Father's Eyes

People assumed Edward doesn't recall his father, perhaps thought of him only in the sense of another story. Truly, shouldn't the author who penned that tale be Edward's parent? His creator? The thought had puzzled him, from time to time, but always he returned back to several certainties. 

His father was a fair man, one who listened to the pleas of his people; the sort of king that Edward wished to be, if he were to ever be given the chance. Many boys idolize their fathers as much as they adore their mothers, with childishly blind eyes; but Edward had always known the image his father held in his eyes as true for more than only himself; a man who earned the praise of his kingdom. 

"A good king," his father's voice comes back to him sometimes, with warmth in the memory of being very small and sitting before him with expression filled with wonder at what he might learn, "must be kind."

"As kindness is stronger than any terrible deed, stronger than evil men and frightening beasts; kindness can give hope and that is the most important gift that can ever be given. 

You hold the faith of your kingdom in your hands and you must always take care with it." 

And Edward believed, with a strength of conviction that could not waver, believed every word spoken was the guidance of a wise man. 

His father taught him to wield a sword, another memory upon the pages, a young boy with palms sore from gripping too tightly the hilt of the blade that was both exciting and frightening. A weapon that felt so much more unforgiving than he knew how to carry. 

"Steady your arm higher m'boy, lift your chin, for if you must be the one to bring harm to another you must carry the burden of meeting their eyes, their pain you too must see; this is the weight of the blade you hold. 

This is the responsibility of a just man, if he must spill blood. You must remember them, for they too have fought for their cause."

It was a truth Edward never forgot, a memory that gripped him each time he drew his blade, knowing that it was never to be done in jest. And never once did he walk away in victory without solemn respect given to the loss.

Yet, the lesson that pained him the most, filled him with an indescribable peace, was the hardest to learn.

A brave man stricken with grave wounds and tired, hands grasped weakly around the firm grip of his trembling son, a smile spared for his lovely wife and her soft tears, for the sleeping infant cradled in her arms.

A man Edward thought neither sickness nor time could touch, that no injury might slow; in the end was simply just a man. 

"A good king sees his legacy grow brighter in those he leaves behind when his time is spent. There is no shame in weeping only a short while, do not be afraid of giving your grief a voice; it lives in you the same as every happiness and with just as much to teach you.

But you will be a good king one day, as you are a good man grown from the eager child who once begged for bedtime stories of dragons and knights. 

Love, m'boy, is what makes a man the best he can be; for his family, his kingdom, and himself. You and your sister are my proudest moments, Edward."

The words had never left him, not in the days that followed with eyes wet from the ache of that grief, nor ones beyond it when pain gave way to joy at the recollection of good times and gratitude.

What did it mean then when those memories were penned to the pages of a story? Chapters in a novel that held a past truly real to him? Edward returned to them now and then, fingers swept over the words with an indulgent smile. 

Because it was not only a story, it was his story. 

That is what his father taught him, and what he faced with his head held high; his had a legacy to carry with pride. 

Slightly's life, however, had never been a fairytale. 

Kindness had never been the litany of the world they resided within, but their father had urged them to never lower their eyes in spite of the snarl and snap of the darkness; even fairytales have monsters. And monsters have purpose, if only for how they craft it from their own darkness. They were brilliant, they were strong, they would survive. 

He was proud of his brood. 

"You should never forget where you belong, why you were born with claws rather than lofty ambitions.

I expect you to do great things, things that you must do in places others are afraid to walk."

Perhaps the most loving thing their father had ever uttered was how high those expectations were; he believed in a child many would not have. In those early days the words sounded like a demand ushered unfairly upon the child who had no want of it, but with time the purpose unraveled into truth better understood.

Slightly knew more of being a father than they did of their own; the chores of the Mountain Prince were never finished, they cannot recall ever seeing him at peace. Never remember a moment at rest, no more than a fleeting encounter before the call of the Court drew him away. A shadow of a figure that would with time grow fuzzy at the edges of their memories. 

But what other way was there aside from necessity?

"Is father angry, because of me?" So small, Sorrel was only a child filled with foolish questions, dangerous questions, questions Slightly was old enough to know better than speak out loud and settle doubt in the air around them. Doubt could wound far too deeply. Eyes as blue as still waters begged to know, eyes that did not belong to the Mountains.

"No, he isn't. He's mad at other people for arguing about differences," Slightly had shushed the boy and drew him close with claws laced with Sorrel's own, tiny creature nestled in the spot against their side. Secrets carried a burden one so young did not fully understand. "Because no amount of difference means more to him than you do." 

And it was a truth Slightly saw and knew, each time their father gathered up in his arms the boy who was not his own but he would accept as no less. Each time he stepped between him and some threat, the vicious ferocity the Mountain Fey protected their young with fueling an inhuman anger. 

Their father never spoke it in so many words, but he taught that lesson well; those who are your own simply were, no matter where the world's opinions might fall. 

The crueler lesson came too soon; what loss can do and what sacrifices are worth. 

Day by day Slightly saw their father fade to a terrifying emptiness in his voice, the horrors of giving too much of himself to the pain of having his eldest ripped away from him. 

He gave up, hour by hour, until the light was all gone away into a stillness that lay glassy and hollow in his once fire-bright eyes and Slightly was left choking on the rage of being abandoned. 

How dare he choose to mourn one child so intensely that he left the others behind. To make the decision to fade away rather than fight after all his demands that his children must always do so.

"Keep your eyes open, you must always be ready." 

The words of the one who had not been able to do the same, the one who Slightly trusted and found themselves suffocating in the wake of what they could not understand.  

Slightly locked away the memories; his voice, his lessons, every moment buried deep and soaked with a bitter pain. They had no choice; Sorrel needed to be looked after and mother was taxed with a role meant for two. 

Their father taught a poignant truth with his death; leaving those behind to fend for themselves was the cost of some choices.  

But even so, Slightly could not bear to truly hate him, not when they missed him so very, very much. Children do not simply forget the ones who were their world.

It took long years to find the truth in the pain, to shift through and see that all joy has a shred of sorrow within it, that all love carries a bitter core of fear in the loss; that sometimes a sacrifice is not written so much in blood as it is in a broken heart. 

Slightly learned to grieve from the one they called father, to value those near more than anything that could be won, and most importantly; that sometimes loving someone means you cannot save them from their own demons. That you must accept, and forgive, that they may fail you. 

But shadowy creatures and skies filled with unfamiliar stars never crossed Ian's mind much as a child; he couldn't concern himself with storybook monsters when he knew far too many real ones waited for him in the cold gazes of his classmates. People who didn't understand him, people who were taught to never dare to understand.  

And his mom tried so hard; every day it seemed like she came home just a little more exhausted than the one before. Her soft smile might not have wavered but Ian knew her heart was still just a little too broken to tell her why he was afraid of the world.

She needed him to be brave, but he could only pretend to and hope it was enough. She urged him to speak but he remained as silent as he dared; it was her tired eyes that hurt him at the thought of asking too much of her.   

But his dad always listened. Whenever he needed him, even if he never answered.

As a child, barely tall enough to reach the desk where his mother kept her glossy albums, Ian believed that somehow his late night conversations, hands tightly gripping the only photo he had of the man, did not go unheard. 

"Please come back. Mom is sad all the time and I don't know how to make it better," he would speak in no more than a breath of sound, eyes dropped and half shut to hold back the tears. "I know they're wrong at school. That...that you didn't leave because you wanted to, not because we're...different from everybody else. But if you could just come back? Nobody could say those things anymore."

Some places, his mom explained, people could not come back from, as she kissed his forehead one day. It was a day he could barely recall later his age or the other details, only the words she spoke when he voiced what he had really wanted for his birthday. 

Children so young still believe that magic could do a great deal more than it ever should. 

"He wanted so badly just to meet you," and with the words Ian saw a gravity in her eyes that he never had before, "He loved you boys more than anything in this world, but he just didn't have the chance to stay."

Ian learned that love was powerful, but sometimes it was very unfair, and it was why a person had to be strong for those who needed them the most. The world was scary, it always would be, but people had to try. 

He didn't ask his mom again, he couldn't stand to see that sorrow. 

His dad always was there; never judgemental in that silence. And as a child it had been too easy to overlook that silence could only exist without judgement and find the best in that. It felt safe, so much safer than risking speaking the doubts to anyone else. Silence was patient, and so too then was Ian's dad in his memories of a man who could not be there.

"We have to leave soon,'' quiet moments in his room had long since given way to rooftop vigil under the sprawling skies; maybe somewhere in that expanse of forever his father resided just beyond his reach. "I..I thought I'd be happy to leave this place but I'm just scared. I'm always scared; I wish-" He sighed and drew his knees up with the tired words. "-I wish I were like you, not afraid of anything." 

But Wilden had been afraid; of the sickness that stole his life in small measures, of the world moving on without him, of missing so much of it, and most of all of his boys never knowing who he was. 

Ian had been surprised when he discovered that, as his mom reassured him that it was okay to be afraid sometimes, but just as often she spoke of his bravery in the face of those fears and that it rooted itself down deeply into Ian's mind.

The man he had never had a chance to hear speak taught him that everyone was afraid sometimes, that everyone fights their battles, and the best a person can do is to find a reason to. 

But it wasn't right to let that fear turn a person cruel; time and again he heard of his dad's forgiving nature. And bit by bit Ian learned what parts of himself he wanted to be so much like the man, and what parts he had to let go, for his own sake.

"I don't want to have to be you, dad. I'm sorry." Ian whispered to the darkness as the morning crept so steadily closer; every star in Swynlake glittered in watchful attention to that conversation from the balcony. Twenty years to his life that very day. "I don't know what I want to do from here but you won't be mad if it's not what you expected me to, right?" 

The night could not speak, ghosts belonged in days and years behind him, but it did not mean their presence was any less wanted. Ian could not think in the past tense, not when he still felt there was too much more left to learn. 

He knew what his dad had already taught him, how many times that memory had held vigil to his unsteady words, and he was not nearly done yet. His dad had never been there, not so much the way other people could have claimed, but he had done what any good father strived to; he had listened. 

"I miss you."

#bdrp task #death tw #suicide mentions tw #featuring Edward #Ian #and Ren #because I can

[rebeccathenaturalist]

And here we are, a year later! I'm so used to letting projects like this fall to the wayside, and when I started I honestly worried whether I'd be able to keep up the pace. And yet here I am, still posting comics at a rate of one one week, two the next, wash, rinse repeat (plus those extra Mt. St. Helens comics I did last spring!) I'll admit that people's enthusiasm for my work is a big part of what helped keep me going even when I was tired, or discouraged, or really stinkin' busy, because I wanted to keep sharing what I was creating with you all. But I also found that this continued to be fun instead of work, which is the whole point: something in my life that wasn't just a way to make income.

Which isn't to say there aren't ways to help me pay for art materials, of course. My Redbubble shop, for example, actually has a few more designs than what I said in the comic since there were a few drawings that I liked enough to add as stickers and other fun stuff (that last page design is available as a greeting card, with and without text!) But this is still by and large a sideline, a nice break from my day job and a creative outlet that doesn't need to be measured in sales.

If you want to do something nice for my anniversary, please share my work with others! (Or reblog, or retweet, whatever's appropriate.) You can find my social media links at the bottom of any page at http://wyntkan.com. I also always appreciate likes and comments, and I'm open to suggestions for topics for future comics, too.

Finally, again, THANK YOU! It's been nice to have people to share this piece of my creative life with, and I look forward to giving you more fun nature comics to enjoy.

Species portrayed: raccoon (Procyon lotor), western red cedar (Thuja plicata), spotted towhee (Pipilo maculatus), redwood sorrel (Oxalis oregana), American crow (Corvus brachyrhyncos), beargrass (Xerophyllum tenax), Pacific golden chanterelle (Cantharellus formosus), red fox (Vulpes vulpes), lodgepole pine (Pinus contorta), Douglas fir (Pseudotsuga menziesii), Garry oak (Quercus garryana), Pacific rhododendron (Rhododendron macrophyllum), cascara (Frangula purshiana), coastal manroot (Marah oregonus), sword fern (Polystichum munitum), old man's beard (Usnea longissima) king bolete (Boletus edulis), beach strawberry (Fragaria chiloensis), fly agaric (Amanita muscaria, Amanita Muscaria var. guessowi), vanilla leaf (Achlys triphylla), western bunchberry (Cornus × unalaschkensis), western lily of the valley (Maianthemum dilatatum), Western matsutake (Tricholoma murrillianum), early blue violet (Viola adunca)

Website | Redbubble | Ko-Fi

Transcript under cut.

[Title: One year Anniversary!]

[First image: a brown raccoon sits under a western red cedar tree next to some redwood sorrel; a spotted towhee perches in the branch overhead.]

On this day in 2019, I published my very first comic at WYNTKAN.com. I had never done anything like this, considering myself to be very much an amateur illustrator. But with encouragement from those closest to me, I got up the courage to put my drawings out there in the name of inviting other people to share in my love of nature.

[Second image: Instead of asterisks the artist used a pink flower, a canine pawprint, a blue feather, a brown mushroom, and a sand dollar.]

So where has it gotten me? Well, a year ago I started with all zeroes, and now I have:

* 81 comics, 25 multi-page and 56 single page

* 76 followers on Facebook, 337 on Twitter, 667 on Tumblr, and 109 on Instagram, along with 1702 hits on my website, 138 subscribers on Webtoon and 9 on Tapas

* Featured 354 unique species in my comics, including a wide array of animals, plants & fungi

* Set up a Redbubble shop with 18 designs, and a Ko-Fi tip jar

* Slightly more legible handwriting, and a lot more drawing experience

[Third image: a black crow looks at the viewer while standing on the ground]

Now what? Well, obviously I want to keep making comics, as well as taking the occasional commission. If I can dig up more time (that mythical beast!) I’d love to do more non-comic art, including more stickers!

[Fourth image: a field of beargrass is in full bloom with big white flower clusters]

It’s so gratifying when someone messages or emails me to let me know how much they like my comics, or when I get a positive comment. While I don’t have the huge audience of more established comics, I’m grateful for every person who has enjoyed my work and even learned something new from it!

[Fifth image: Golden chanterelle mushrooms pop out of a mossy forest floor]

And when the voice of doubt in my head says my art sucks and nobody cares, I will remember that I am further along and more experienced than if I had never started. I’ll tell that voice to go take a hike (it’s good for you!) And then start the next comic.

[Sixth image: A red fox sleeps in a bed of moss, surrounded by many species of Pacific Northwest native plants and fungi in a ring around it.]

Thank you!

#nature #comics #wildlife #plants #mushrooms

[awhiskeyriver]

So Miss Amelia, I feel like nobody ever asks you your opinions on cannon stuff and you have to have some good things locked away in your head, so question time 😁: How many toast babies do you think Katniss and Peeta had? Just the boy and girl or were there more? Do you think Haymitch was like the kids substitute grandpa? What names do you like for said toastkids?

Lol, well I don’t know if I have a bunch of good things hiding in my head haha buuuut...

I like to think of Peeta and Katniss having a big family. I think Peeta always wanted to be a father and have plenty of kids and once the war was over the trauma of it had calmed some, and Katniss allowed herself the luxury of thinking about truly having kids, she wanted more than two, also. In my mind, they had four, maybe. One boy and three girls.

I like the name Lark for their oldest daughter. They named her it because she had a lot of dark hair when she was born and it stuck up on each side of her head, reminding Katniss of the horns of a lark.

Baby boy’s name came in a similar fashion, Yarrow, because his bright blonde hair was likened to wild yarrow flowers.

Third baby is named Sorrel, because Katniss had strange but very real cravings for the namesake plant throughout her pregnancy.

And their last child was named Peony, by Peeta. It was a harder pregnancy and delivery than the previous three, and the name was picked for its meaning of happiness and blessing, since both the new beautiful baby and Katniss were okay.

Haymitch definitely played a substitute grandfather role and all the Mellark’s helped to care for him as he grew older. But Katniss also talked about her own father openly and fondly so that all of the kids felt as if they’d known him personally too.

#endlessnightlock #ask #thg #everlark

[raspberry-rampage]

Non-Polish speaking peeps, I introduce you to the Polish My Hero Academia parody, Zboku na Boku [”Perv on the Side”]. I tried translating the LoV ep, some wordplay is lost in translation, that’s why I added notes at the end. ENJOY.

Title: Sorrel/youngster* hunting [in Polish you can call young people “szczawie” (sorrels)]

Video description: Shigaraki told Dabi to go away [he said, literally, “fall on the sorrel” (slang expression used when you want somebody to buzz off) - that’s where the sorrel comes from] Voices: lordthevil i livdeprince

Dialogue:

Narrator: Meanwhile, not far from a bush, sat a strange duck.*

Dabi: Okay, you know the rules. Fellas to the left, ladies to the right.

Himiko: Hey, I found a souvenir. Can I take her home? Please, please, please!

Dabi: Toga, no! Get off her! No! Stay put, Toga.**

Himiko: You smell nice...

Twice: [muffled] Okay, everybody ready? Firstly, we put up a tent and set up a campfire.

Compress: I will barricade us with a stake fence on which we will be able to put the intruders’ heads!

Dabi: Who invited Compress to this mission?

Twice: [muffled] From what I know nobody did, he just invited himself.

Compress: Here we can dig up a hole where we will be able to store the bodies of everyone who opposes me!

Dabi: Okay, somebody needs to watch Compress so that he won’t kill anyone. [zoom in] Yet.

Compress: I will use my magic balls which purpose is to disembowel bears!

Spinner: Oh, a dark forest in some nowhere shithole! Oh, Shigaraki, that lord and king of ours, he’s such a genius! Genius, I tell you!

Magne: Spinner, if you want to suck Shigaraki’s dick, maybe don’t do it next to us, huh?

Dabi: Exactly, Spinner. Rule no. 1, no dick-sucking. Rule no. 2, not in my presence.

Spinner: Nobody noticed that I had used sarcasm?

Magne: Nobody cares how you called your sword! You might as well had called it after you, stupid douche.

Spinner: With it I can cut your trachea without hesisation, I won’t have to listen to your yapping!

Magne: Come at me, croccy!

Dabi: Silence! We have a job to do first, then you can compare your weapons and their uses!

Compress: Nyah! We can use my cane used for straightening intestines of those who oppose us!

[crickets]

Twice: [muffled] Compress, I don’t fucking even...

Dabi: Enough. Everybody takes a basket and gathers as much sorrel as they can.

Spinner: [incoherently mimics Dabi]

Toga: I can look at you for hours...

Dabi: [off screen] Toga!

Toga: Yeah?

Dabi: I said “sorrel”, not “take a piss”***

Toga: Oops! This will be our little secret...

NOTES:

*Reference to a Polish children poem, “Kaczka-Dziwaczka” [Strange Duck]. It’s about a duck that does strange things, like buying cheese at the hairdresser’s. Don’t ask me, ask Brzechwa.

**The command for dogs to “stay put” is “noga” [leg], which rhymes with Toga. Dabi is talking to Toga as if she were a misbehaving dog.

***In Polish "sorrel” [szczaw] and “take a piss” (literal meaning) [wyszczać] sound very similar.

#my hero academia #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha #league of villains #parody #my translation #himiko toga #dabi #twice #magne #spinner #mr. compress #grykarcianedladzieci #if people like it i might translate the other ones too #zboku na boku

[cloviaglade]

I noticing a trend where I'm doing this thing where I write my friend's oc and my oc together doing things....

Anyway here is Sorrel and @belphegorasmr 's oc Sookie becoming friends (sorta) at a Lucifer can suck my @$$ club

"THE INCANTATION, SOOKIE. DO YOU KNOW IT OR NOT!?" The demon professor bellowed. 

Sookie already felt bad enough being the only student unable to cast this spell. Heck they are the only human student with no magical powers! They already felt bad enough that they had to be exempt from the casting portion but not even remembering the words to say… wow.

"Today puny human!" a demon classmate sneered from the other side of the class. 

IIt's just a bunch of words why can't they remember! They studied so hard! The pressure was about to get to them when the human sitting at the desk next to them started tapping on the desk very loudly and coughed. Sookie looked over and the girl carefully gestured to the paper where she has written the incantation. 

"rosmarinus mentha petroselinum enchelycore pardalis" Sookie read of the page. 

"Finally… yes that is the incantation. Moving on-"

Sookie sighed with relief. That classmate is new...well newish. She came in a few weeks ago. She rubbed her forehead with her fingertips, flipped back to her notes, and started writing again. Sookie should thank her for the help… but what was her name again...

Right as the bell rang signaling the end of the day Sookie tried to thank her. She was packing up her books into her backpack with sookie sorta standing nearby trying to think of a way to introduce themself. 

"Great… look at what you've done now Sorrel…" the human said to just  herself loud enough that Sookie could hear.

"S-Sorrel? Uh hey. I-"

"Not intrested." Sorrel said as she brushed past Sookie.

Sorrel groaned. Curse her kind nature. 4 visable pact marks and no knowledge of magic. How does someone even get that many pacts without knowing any spells? Can they even cast? She never seen them get called on to cast any of the spells. Oh Demeter they are a walking mess with that many pacts and no magic to make a demon submit. She cant imagine the horror that will occur when all those demons come to "collect".

Sorrel opened her locker and unzipped her bag. She placed the unneeded books and collected a project for the club she recently joined. Well not that she can really call it that. It's just Satan and his little brother Belphegor from what she has heard. More of a brother bond thing she will inevitably be the third wheel in. She won't admit it but she only agreed to it out of fear. She has no interest in hating on Lucifer but she is great with pranks. In her herbology of the three realms class she came up with a really good one that could accomplish both the clubs and her own.

"Hey… you didn't let me finish." 

Oh.. not this loser again.

"I only helped you because I wanted the class to go on. There is no need to thank me. You owe me nothing." Sorrel explained. Why is her kind always so eager to make friends?

"All I was going to say was…" Sookie a notebook in their hands. No that wasnt a notebook that was Sorrel observational diary. The one that if a demon read it would report her and have her expelled at best beheaded at worse.

"You forgot it." Sookie said.

Sorrel reaches up and grabs sookie by the collar of their uniform pulling them down to her level.

"PLEASE TELL ME YOU DID NOT READ IT!" Sorrel growled through clenched teeth. She snatched the journal away from them.

"No-no I wouldnt dare." Sookie only grabbed it and was trying to return it. They assumed it was just notes for the class they were just in.

"Good! Now if you excuse me I have a club meeting to go to." Sorrel said and stormed off.

Sorrel walked towards the House of Lamentation. This is the first time heading to the house but she has a GPS app with the address put in. She was walking along but she could tell she was being followed. She was coming up on a turn soon and according to her DDD there will be a long stretch of road to the house of Lamentation. Surely she wouldn't be followed there… unless her follower is really really dumb.

Sure enough Sorrel was followed. Oh now they are going to get it. Sorrel pretended to trip but what she really did was leave a trap. A few short moments and the spell was activated.

"WHAAAAAAA!!!"

"Gotcha!" Sorrel shouted. You won't believe who was following her.

"Sookie! Why are you following me!? This place is dangerous!" Sorrel shouted surprized that out of all the things that could have followed her to the house of Lamentation ot would be this human.

"I'm just trying-"

"No you go the other way! I'm taking a huge enough of a risk as is heading this way. You could die. If you value your life you will wait for the vines to dispel and go the other way! I don't Care what you are trying to do you don't ever come this way ever again!" Sorrel explained before running off.

Finally… she reached the House of Lamentation. She texted Satan to let him know she was on her way. Satan welcomed her in and lead Sorrel to what would be the meeting room. She wasn't expecting their to be a formal room for the club since it was just satan and his brother but I guess they are taking this clube thing very seriously.

"Here it is go and head on in. Belphie is already waiting inside." Satan said as he opened the door.

Sorrel wasn't expecting much… but this… 

This was just sad.

It was a musky old closet. Some of the clothes that hung from the hangers were rotted with age. Belphegor was already in the room sleeping in an open cardboard box cuddling his cow print pillow. There was a dusty moldy cushion, a metal fold out chair and another box slightly crushed as if someone tried to sit there but it caved under their weight. There was a whiteboard and a corkboard in the room with various papers and notes scribbled on them. 

You would think with a house this large and upscale they would have a better room to set up in.

"...where do I sit?" Sorrel asked, trying to hide her disgust. Why did she agree to this?

"The cushion. The chair is for the founder and president satan." Belphegor said from his box.

"Ahh…" Sorrel cringed a little. She took off her cape and covered the cushion with it before sitting on it. Satan took his spot and pulled out his phone. 

"So is the meeting starting?" Sorrel asked after a few moments of awkward silence.

"We are waiting for one more member." Satan said.

"Why are they late…?" Belphegor growled from his box.

"They said they would be running late." Satan clairfied.

Sorrel did wonder which brother of theirs could g the forth. Mammon had every right to want to join a Lucifer hating club. She was introduced to him while he was strung up upside down. Then there is Asmodeus who hangs around Satan fairly often. The two seem to get along well… but Asmodeus doesnt seem to hate Lucifer. Which brother is it then?

A few more moments passed and a patterned knock on the closet. Finally… maybe this club meeting can be done and over with so Sorrel can finally get some fresh air.

"Sorry I'm late…." 

Oh of all the rotten…

"SOOKIE!?" Sorrel gasped.

"Welcome in. We were waiting for you. I see you have met our newest member." Satan said.

"Uh… hi. I just got a little tangled up was all." Sookie tried to make themselves small desperately not wanting to be in thsi situation. 

"Who kept you?" Belphegor asked from inside his box. His tone has the faintest hint of anger. 

"No… nobody. It's fine" Sookie replied. They wanted to avoid any more conflict. 

"If you have a problem you don't have to be afraid to ask for help. We keep telling you to stand up for yourself." Satan added. 

The meeting began in earnest. Sorrel trying to contain how completely terrified. She toned out most of the meeting. She took a few deep breaths calm herself as best she can. Those pact marks on Sookie must belong to some of these brothers. Somehow this lanky disaster human manged to pact at least 4 of them. No wonder why she didn't recognize the marks. The seven lords rarely make pacts. She needs to be on Sookie's good side. Someone with that kind of power could be useful.

"Sorrel you texted me earlier that you had an idea." Satan said snapping Sorrel out of her thoughts

"Oh yes…" she dug into her bag and pulled out a folder. She pulled a few papers out and passed them to Satan. He glances over each page.

"I don't understand what these documents mean…" Satan said.

"They are human world legal forms. One is for child support for Satan. It says he needs to take responsibility as a parent. Another is a summons to court for Belphegor to sue Lucifer for not winning the celestial war." Sorrel explained. Sookie snickered at the idea but the demons seemed a bit confused.

"And what do you plan to do with these forms?" Satan asked.

"We make a ton on copies and mix it into whatever paperwork that he needs to do." Sorrel said.

"Brilliant! Meeting adjourned. I have some copies to make." Satan said getting up from his chair and leaving the room. 

"Hey wait I can help you with that!" Sorrel called out but he didn't listen.

Sookie sighed. They were the next to walk out of the closet. They didn't have any hard feelings against Sorrel. She was just trying to protect them...right? She has to have some merit for Satan to have taken notice of her. Then again Sorrel did tangle them up in vines in an area she thought was dangerous and left them alone and vulnerable. 

Whatever. They could live with seeing Sorrel in class and once a week for this stupid do nothing club. Satan did seem happy with her idea. They can tolerate her for Satan's sake. 

"Wait. Sookie." Sorrel tapped on Sookie's sholder.

"Sorrel! Geez... I'm just heading to my room." Sookie explained.

"I… I just want to apologize. Not just because you have powerful demosn on your side. I was rude." She said slightly bowing her head.

"It's fine… I guess you were trying to watch out for me. But I'malsosorryifIdidsomethingthatupsetyou" Sookie apologized back. Why where they so weird?

"No you where just trying to be nice. I was dismissive. Regardless we should exchange numbers not only because we are in a club together but because sometimes you just need a human to talk to." Sorrel explained.

"Uh thanks I… I promise I won't text you at weird hours or anything." Sookie said as they pulled out their DDD and gave Sorrel their number.

"Would be amusing if you did." Sorrel smiled.

#obey me #obey me! #obey me ocs #obey me oc #obey me fanfic #sorrel

[lettersandinkstains]

so said the king excerpt | spoiler warning cw: spoilers, violence, character death characters: zephyr, the queen, aster

Zephyr gives a deep bow, their thick curly hair falling forward -- the silver and blue headdress falling to the ground. With one arm still behind their back, they stand up straight again. Yet, they know it is no secret as to what they’re hiding.

Despite how the cold nips at their skin, how the Queen's eyes gaze upon them and how they feel so hot underneath the anger, they keep their smile, however grim it may be.

"It is nice to finally meet you, your majesty," She speaks no words in return. "Princess Sage looks so much like you." They take a step forward, knowing full well this could lead to their death -- but dying to free their Ilmyria, letting Atia cast her light upon Lythria again is more important than their own life. There are many more things that are more important than their life, Zephyr thinks. They would gladly die over and over again if it meant keeping the ones they love happy.

"You did grand, raising her." Still, the Queen remains tense, terse to Zephyr's presence -- Sage had once told them that she always felt like they were reading her mind. They had laughed it off, told her not to worry but it is true, to an extent. To order the death of the Ayathian prinxe would be utterly stupid, they know this. It would not be Atia's wrath one would fear. "Her heart, your heart, holds heavy, doesn't it?" They look around as they continue the slow trek forward. One wrong move and they will die before their mission is up, and that could mean the end of everything. Eteus would not grant them mercy for disobedience.

He had heard stories about Lythria's beauty upon ice and snow. It was once beautiful with ice waterfalls and blue birds that braved how cold it was -- the throne room was once etched with history, promises of alliances now covered or destroyed by a king gone mad.

Or perhaps, a queen.

"And you messed up, your majesty. The game you chose to play with a mere man's heart, how far you continued it -- you are thought to be a traitor among the gods. What were you looking for?" Thoughts of how Ayathia had burned years ago due to this woman burns in their mind. The way they had feared the end of their freelands once more. "Certainly not love, when you cast your eyes upon your own flesh, there is nothing there. I only ever see hatred, even as a young child visiting your palace -- you spoke to her as though she were a mere stranger who had long stayed past her welcome."

Zephyr was always believed to be unassuming, along for the ride -- and perhaps they were. But what fate that would entwine their life with a princess and an unfortunate girl, well, not one to be mused about. They had been told of their job -- one that would be easier on everybody.

Lead the lamb to the throne, let her blood flow and the gods would take over. But yet, her smile enraptured their heart, how naive and stubborn she was to save the world when her goal changed. How could the possibility of one person's death change the course of the future? This, they had never quite understood. Was it not the gods who could change everything? It was not Sage’s fault she was born -- no, it was a human’s and a god’s. 

Nyx was supposed to lead Sage away from Lythria, but not kill. She did her job perfectly without even knowing. Zephyr had known from the very beginning that was not her job -- she has a heart of gold, not coal. When Azlir had approached them with the task of killing the Lythrian princess, they had been hesitant at first. Ayathia had remained untouched by the king of madness, they do not attack unless threatened -- this is the law of their country. Yet, the goddess spoke so softly, so convincingly. The princess was a threat to their world -- the princess, whose only sin was to be born -- but the goddess never told them how or why. Only she possesses a magic beyond their understanding.

"What a cruel fate," they mumble. "When the gods command you to kill, you do it." Zephyr says this loudly, their voice echoing along the walls painted with blood. "Yet we Ayathians, we're a peaceful people. We do not believe in the killing of others." Their fingers curls around the dagger -- a heavy sadness clinging to their heart. What punishment awaits them for the actions they will take?

"What happens to someone who disobeys a god?"

The queen levels her gaze, she does not call out for the guards who will not come to help her. Why should they -- what do they get out of keeping such a wretched being alive?

"You suffer for it," she finally speaks. "Gods cannot die."

"Gods cannot be killed by another god's hand, that was the covenant." They are standing in front of her now. Whose wrath do they fear the most?

Or better yet, which are they afraid of? Sage's tears or the gods condemnation? Her only request was for her parents to live -- just dethrone them. Perhaps jail. And that's Sage's greatest weakness. She wears her heart on her sleeve and no matter who, a genocidal god or a thief, she believes so much in redemption. Zephyr only envies that on the bad days.

"Perhaps, a human should not kill a god." The queen says. "We are why all of you exist."

"And you are why we are all suffering," Once upon a time, Zephyr had believed in Atia. Her liberation of Ayathia, her strength of the sun -- to heal and burn. "And, my deepest apologies, your majesty," the poison of the words itch their tongue. They are not the slightest bit sorry. "I have been a rude guest, but I feel no regret in my words."

"Young Zephyr, if you are to kill me, do so now."

Zephyr steps back. They look over their shoulder, expecting to see Sage. It wouldn't have surprised them -- the queen loves to torture her daughter in any way she possibly can.

"You will break her heart, otherwise."

"I don't care," they answer. Yet, she reads their heart. "The crown and power blinded you. A goddess of victory and war is not meant for this world anymore." The world that will come after -- there will be no place for such things. This is what they had promised Sage, they all will work to create that world. And Cena, who sits before them, high on her throne of gold, whose halls had once been flooded with the blood of innocent men and women.

"I've made my peace." Yet, the goddess’ voice cracks with those words. She is not ready, Zephyr knows this. But nobody is ever ready to die, god or not.

"May the next life be kinder," They whisper.

"And may her wrath burn you."

And they slam the dagger through her throat, and they quickly step back as the queen makes a horrible choking noise as she tries to breathe. They could never quite handle death, it was not something they were ever raised to handle. They watch with horror as the life slowly fades away, chest heaving desperately. Where a dead god goes, Zephyr does not know -- but they sincerely hope she will find peace elsewhere.

Stepping away from the throne and down the few small steps and quickly exits the room. Surely, no guard will come but they don’t want to risk being found by the wrong person. Sorrel already dislikes them, Aster hardly trusts them -- Nyx. They don’t even know about her. And Sage. Sage...they swallow a lump in their throat. Forgive me, princess.

With much surprise, they bump into Aster outside the throne room. They stare down at her, eyes wide. It is obvious of their sin -- and it is obvious of her anger.

When they had entered the castle, Zephyr deliberately sent Sage and Nyx on a goose chase, and Aster had asked what they were up to.

"Only to help her find answers," Is all they had said.

And now, here she stands, shoulders squared, eyes narrowed and staring up at them. Despite their height difference, she is terrifying when angry. And it’s not because she has terrible control over her magic, but because her silence can be the worst.

"What did you do?" She hisses out.

"Only what should have been done in the first place." Zephyr answers as they move past Aster. "Sage won't die, I promise you this, little Aster."

"They are -- the gods are angry!" Aster’s voice is raised in pitch, the fear and disbelief in her voice. Her country burns outside.

"I do not care about that, Aster," Zephyr hisses out. "Listen, we find Sage and and Nyx now. This isn't where any of us should be."

"So where--"

"Ceres."

They watch as all color drains from Aster's face. Nobody enters Ceres alive.

#violetvineyard #amwriting #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing excerpt #writers of tumblr #writing #fantasy #dark fantasy #excerpt #so said the writings #so said the excerpt #so said the king #c: zephyr #c: cena #c: aster