#red pencil urchin

[ninjapaste]

Made another splatoon oc BUT, this time its an urchin!

His name is Tip, a red pencil urchin who's a tattooist based in Splatsville.

(Trying out a new textured style for the first one)

Hes a chill dude who likes really comfortable and soft clothes, but he also tends to oversleep when he takes a nap. Speaks strong Patois but tones it down when hes working with new clients (if you can speak patois he gives you a secret discount though). Tip has a lot of tattoos, but he hides them to evade any suspicions from the police that he may still be a gang member. Hes ex-gang now and tries to help his community when hard times come around!

Plus he has his two partners (and colleagues) to help him! His bf is Sazon (left) and Puffy (right) and they were made by my bestie @crystalmonk5579 !!

[aniflowersartblog]

I ocationaly take requests for Cookie Run Kingdom characters on Instagram, to make these smal one/two color doodles.

These are the ones I have made so far, from 2021 till now.

-More close-ups under the "Read More"-

[uncharismatic-fauna]

Thank you to anon for your donation to UNRWA! I hope you enjoy this Heterocentrotus mamillatus, aka the slate pencil urchin. Fun fact: Though this species' spines are usually red, at night they turn chalky pink!

[erik-golding76]

// trying out something new, aka writing. Pls give honest feedback ;)

The last year of middle school, oh, how time flies. The year was 1990, the date, probably sometime in October. Yeah, October. The air grows colder and the colors start to shift from bright greens to grey and occasional orange, yellow and red. Though, mostly boring grey and brown, just like all the rest of Nockwell.

Oh, fuck yeah, Nockwell. One would be more surprised if someone heard of the town rather than not. It was small, though if you took a 30 minute bus drive, you could make it to a bigger town, city, even. Thats where the fun is at. Nockwell is like a raisin or an old piano. Old folk like it because it reminds them of something it no longer is. It's the memories that keep them comfortable and the people don't actually enjoy the town all that much. These days it seems like it's more of a place where very Christian gather.

Why is Erik thinking all this crap?

Erik Golding, 13, the star of this show, taps the paper on his desk. Boring. The teacher was going on and on about... something. Quite frankly Erik sat at the desk furthest from Mr... fuckface? Kimberly? Kimmel? Okay, no, he has to ask someone. Not remembering will eat Erik alive.

Looking up from his doodles, the boy glances at the biology teacher who seemed to be talking to a fish in his tank. Whatever makes him happy. Erik pokes a kid in front of him with a pencil. A girl with braids and a purple glittery beanie turned to look at Erik, a bit confused but smiling. Campbell..?

- Ashley? - Erik muttered, something between asking if he got her name right and making sure she was listening

- Yeah, Erik? What's up? - The girl nodded and stared at Erik, waiting for him to say something else.

- What's the teachers name? - the boy nodded in the teacher, who now seemingly was trying to squeeze a skeleton of a fish from inside some tube-bottle.

- Oh! I think like, Mr Cricket?

- Damn... Thanks.

Erik leaned back and decided to continue watching.. Mr Cricket. The man's voice was oddly quiet for a teacher, it seemed like even those in second row would barely hear him. Maybe he was just shy. But why on earth would this motherfucker become a teacher if he's shy? He looked to be barely reaching his 30s, what kind of moron chooses to teach and study instead of partying and getting a girl? Though considering.... Mr Cricket and all related to him, Erik came to the conclusion that perhaps the guy doesn't want a girl. Or happiness.

Erik rolled his eyes and glanced at the clock on the wall in irritation. Wow, 15 minutes left. Okay, what game should we play? Who's hair looks weirder? Or throw paper at someone and see if they notice? Or open the pen and drain it's ink? Drink the ink and pretend to be dead?

All sounded fun. But okay, let's go with the hair game. How do you play, you ask? Well, it's easy. You pick a random person, examine their hair throughly (from a distance, duh), and conclude what their hair resembles most. Let's start with... Ashley. Her hair is brown, kinda long and has some glitter stuck in it, presumably from her beanie, which was ynow, covered in glitter.

After a few moments of thinking and staring at the girls hair, Erik came to realize that..... her hair just kinda looks like hair. Boring and just... hair. The beanie looks like a condom though. Okay, not really. Forget it.

Chugs hair looks like grass. Chug could make a very convincing impersonation of a floating island. Green grass ontop and brown-ish everything below.

Tiffany has a bunch of small braids that stick out of her hair like she's a sea urchin, but orange.

Joe's hair looks like... nothing. But it does look like he needs a shower. Has needed it for a while, at that.

Erik stared at one of his classmates. He couldn't really decide, his hair looked both like piss yet gold at the same time. Not like Travis needed to be aware of Erik's judgement, yet it felt wrong to say that the pastors son has piss hair. Though... so does Kenneth.

"Mister Phelps it is, young man!" - the firm voice of Erik's mother echoed in his head, making him grimace.

"Yes, mom, Mister Phelps has piss hair" - Erik thought to himself, pretending to have a conversation with his mom in his own head. This is what modern schools do to children, this orgy or teachers, meatloaf, bologna and really, really bad pumpkin soup is driving Erik insane, middle school is giving him SCHIZOPHRENIA. Voices in his head and oh dear God, hallucinations, swirls of color!!

Wait. Erik pulls his hands away from his eyes as he opens them. The pressure from his palms on his eyeballs dissappears, only leaving less and less of those "hallucinations".

Holy shit this is torture.

Erik looked at the clock. 3 minutes left. Okay.

Erik digs his left hand into his backpack and rummages through, searching for something. Finally he feels the familiar texture of worn cardboard and sharp edges. His treasure, his everything, his savior and his secret. A pack of cigarettes the boy totally didn't steal from the store.

This lunch break will be special, Erik is equipped with matches. He will finally try smoking. As his uncle said, any self respectful man has tried to smoke at least once and continues doing it until he becomes a father or dies.

Erik only cared about the "self respectful man" part. The boy grins at the thought, feeling warmth of pride in his chest.

[rd0265667]

Seeun x Reader:Deadshot

A/N: this is an AU, so some parts of Seeun's debut and career are tweaked to make things a tad more realistic

Permanent Taglist: @cwpiqwon@justme-idle

The world was not what it seemed, with an underworld whose roots spread further than that of Yggdrasil. The criminal underworld was a treacherous one, but one that Seeun had no choice to adapt to, seeing as how she was picked up from the streets by them, a street urchin on the brink of death, resuscitated, and molded into a weapon, only to be granted freedom from under Yggdrasil once her "debt" was paid. Seeun was trained day and night, in a course that could only be summarised as the most efficient ways to incapacitate and kill someone, training in Martial arts like Sambo, Akido, Judo, Brazillian Jiu Jitsu, as well as Krav Maga. Not only that, Seeun was turned into a weapons expert, guns, Melee weapons, give Seeun a Number 2 Pencil and she'd drop bodies. With that, Seeun worked her way up the branches of Yggdrasil, becoming one of their top enforcers with deadly aim, earning her the moniker, Deadshot.

None of this was by choice of course, Seeun hated what she did. She valued human life, and while some of the people she put down were horrible people, people who deserved worse than a bullet to the head, not all of them were. Some were just in the wrong place in the wrong time, or offended the wrong person. Every time Seeun pulled a trigger, or snapped a neck, a little part of her soul died, only one thing kept her soul intact. You. Like her, you were dragged in from the streets, like her, an orphan, with no one who would miss you. Though you and Seeun were approximately the same age, you were found from the streets later than she was, making you less experienced than her. Seeing you struggle with the training as she once did, Seeun took you under her wing, helping train you, and to Seeun's surprise, gaining an unlikely friend, in the worst of places.

"I heard that Cain is sending us on a mission soon. Some crazy guy roided up with the wrong juice, makes him impervious to pain. It's gonna be tough." Seeun said as the two of you sparred, kali sticks in hand as you circled each other. "Sounds like fun." You smirked, suddenly changing your pace, catching Seeun off guard, knocking her onto the ground "Told you Sseni, You might be better with a gun, but I'm better at hand to hand combat." You chuckled, offering your hand to Seeun, helping her up as she rolled her eyes. "That was just luck, I'll kick your ass next time." Seeun said as she lightly shoved you, her head bolting to the left as the entrance to the training room opened, a messenger appearing. "Cain requires your presence in the main hall now."  The two of you shared a smile, before nodding and following the messenger. "Deadshot, Hawke. I believe you've heard what this mission will entail, here's an official brief. Your target goes by the name Samson, and he operates out of a Warehouse by the docks. Locate him and take him. Alive. That is all." Never one to waste words, Cain swiftly briefed the two agents on the mission, the two nodding as they turned to leave. "Deadshot, stay, I have need of you." Seeun turned to Y/N, nodding to you as you left the room. "What."  "As the person who trained you since we found you, I have grown a soft spot for you, so I give this advice to you. Whatever feelings you have for Y/N, lose it, kill it." Seeun wore a mask of indifference, but she was trying her best to hold together her slipping facade. Somewhere, sometime during a mission, or training, Seeun found herself falling in love with you. Your laugh, your smile, your way of holding her together, Seeun found her love in a life of death and pain, the silver lining in the sea of red. "I don't know what you're talking about." Seeun coldly replied, staring Cain dead in the eye as he chuckled. "Say whatever you want kid. I did you a favour, checked in with the Elders, this will be your last mission, then you're free. You won't be seeing Y/N anymore after this." Cain shot Seeun a small smile, Seeun recoiling in shock, but nodded. "Before you go, take it from someone who's been here far too long. For people like us, Love is like a bullet to the brain."

"Sseni, you feeling alright? You've been oddly silent this whole ride." You asked, your eyes not leaving the knife you twirled in your hand as you ran a cloth over it. "This is going to be my last mission." Seeun blurted out, unable to keep the secret to herself while her mind was deep in thought on her conversation with Cain. On the one hand, Seeun was glad to be done with this life, the killing, the missions, but on the other hand, Seeun would never see you again. Until the elders set you free, but who knows how long that would take? "Oh, that's great Sseun! You get to go live that life you've always wanted to!" You excitedly cheer, finally sheathing your knife, jumping towards Seeun and throwing her into a hug. "Yeh." Was all Seeun could mutter, because somewhere along the way, the life that Seeun wanted to live would not be one she wanted at all, if you weren't in it. "Deadshot, Hawke, 2 minutes out." The driver said, pounding on the wall between his seat and the two of you nodded, Seeun brandished her modified assault rifle and you primed your electric bites, hopping off the van, then getting to high ground, surveying the warehouse. Seeun flicked her infrared goggles down, surveying the warehouse. "Target is with 4 of his men, lightly armed, Hawke, head to Breach Point Alpha, then enter on my signal. Take down the men, then take on Samson, I'll cover you then join." You nodded,  bolting to the other exposed window, waiting for Seeun's nod, then jumping in, shooting 2 electric bites at the men, stunning them while they convulsed, allowing you to easily knock them down, other two falling to the ground, Seeun's marksmanship showing itself. "I didn't expect Yggdrasil here so soon." Samson said with a smug smile. Jumping towards him, you shot a bite at him, but he chuckled shrugging it off. Redoubling your efforts, you charged at Samson, drop kicking him, then flicking a flechette at him, which stabbed him in the shoulder, but it seemed to have no effect on him. "Didn't your beloved elders brief you, I don't feel pain anymore, and he who doesn't feel pain, can't be beat." He proclaimed with his arms out, before bum rushing you, his speed astonished you as you only barely got out of his way, his shoulder grazing you and sending you back a few feet. Brushing it off, you charged at Samson, engaging in a fierce duel as you dodged, parried and weaved, trying to find a weak spot, but none presented itself, and you soon found yourself on the ground. "Deadshot, I can't get a hit on this guy, he just keeps getting up." You shouted into the comms "Hold him down, I need a clean shot." Seeun said, you followed her as you saw the glare from her scope "Negative Deadshot, we need him alive."  "Hold him down Hawke, trust me." Nodding, you lunged at Samson once again, but instead of going for his body, you went for his joints, grappling around him, eventually holding him in a lock. Holding Samson in place, you saw 4 quick flashes, seeing Samson's limbs light up, blood splattering, and you suddenly felt less resistance. Letting go of Samson, his body dropped to the ground, struggling but unable to get up. "What did you do?" You asked in the comms, Seeun grappling down to you. "Just because he can't feel his tendons being torn, doesn't mean he doesn't need them. Let's get him to the van Hawke." Seeun smirked, helping you as you restrained Samson, depositing him in the van

The day went by in a blur. After taking Samson down, you delivered him to the elders, then helped Seeun pack. It was a tearful goodbye to say the least, in her time in Yggdrasil, in her time of knowing you, Seeun always wanted so badly to tell you how she felt. Seeun's heartbeat wouldn't quicken when entering a room full of deathtraps, but it would do somersaults when she looked at you. As the two of you sat in her room, she wanted so very much to tell you everything, how she felt about you. "Sseni, you okay? You look constipated. It's actually kinda funny." You giggled as you looked as Seeun's face, Seeun rolling her eyes as she motioned for you to sit beside her. "I need to tell you something Y/N." Seeun said, putting her hand on your shoulder. You hummed, sitting next to her and laying on her shoulder, which did not help Seeun. "Umm, so I wanted to tell you, that we've known each other for so long, and I think we've spent alot of time together, and we're close, an-" Seeun tried to talk, but she choked on every word she tried, and you giggled at her antics "Calm down Sseni, breathe." You put your hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her down, though it backfired in a spectacular fashion. This was it, Seeun knew she wouldn't be able to do it if she tried to do it slowly. "I think I'm in love with you." Seeun quickly blurted out, and you tensed up on her shoulder You slowly got up from her, turning to her with a serious look on your face, a face Seeun had only seen when the two of you were on missions. "I guess I knew." You whispered. On a certain level, you always knew. It was in your training to know what was happening everywhere around you, so it was hard to miss Seeun's glances when she would stare at you when you trained, or her shortened breaths when you leaned on her shoulder. "I'm sorry Sseni, but I don't think I can do this." You whispered. "Does that mean you don't feel the same way?" Seeun closed her eyes, turning away, not willing to bear what came next. "No, it doesn't mean that, but...I can't do it while I'm still in this...place. Once I'm free, we'll have this conversation alright?" You turned, leaving a light kiss on her forehead. "I'll wait for you." Seeun whispered as you left the room "See you soon Sseni." 

As Seeun left Yggdrasil, she was stopped by Cain, who pulled Seeun aside. "The elders would like to thank you for your service all these years. You have been one of our finest agents since Penumbra. And for that, they've allowed me to extend you a courtesy." Cain handed Seeun a phone, and on it she saw one contact. Cain's "I know you're stubborn, you and Hawke will most likely not let this go. I'll keep you posted on Hawke. Now go, live a life, a good one. Good luck kid." Seeun nodded, thanking Cain before heading out of the base.

"Thank you so much!" Seeun excitedly replied, before hanging up and squealing, excited to hear that her application into High Up Entertainment was excited. As she was lying down on her bed, excited about finally being able to be an idol, a career she had always been interested in, her burner chimed. "Hawke's been doing well, she's risen to the top of Yggdrasil. She should be out soon." Things couldn't get better, Seeun was ecstatic as not only was she achieving a sense of normalcy, you were going to be free soon, and the two of you could live together, the plan was perfect.

"Seeun, how are you not exhausted?" Isa exclaimed as Seeun shrugged, chuckling as Isa nudged her on the shoulder, other trainees looking at Seeun in shock, murmuring and questioning how she was not tired after hours on hours of practice and training. "Seeun-unnie, your special phone rang!" Yoon exclaimed as she ran to Seeun, phone in hand. "Thank you Ja Yun." Seeun excitedly jumped up, opening the messages "There's chatter amongst the elders of an upcoming mission being Hawke's last, data retrieval then assassination of Kim Chaewon." Seeun was conflicted. On the one hand, she knew who Kim Chaewon was. She was a Chaebol, but worked for the good of the people. She was a philanthropist, who took care of the poor, and to assassinate her, it would be a crime, a sin. But on the other hand, this meant she could be with Y/N. Finally, after 2 years of waiting. She could hardly wait

"Okay girls, great work today, have a good rest, the company should be sending someone over to pick us up." Sumin talked to the girls, pulling Yeeun in as the exhausted girl leaned on the leader. Seeun tossed a bottle of water to Sieun, chuckling as she watched her chug the entire bottle. Resting on her chair, Seeun's phone chimed, could it finally be time? "Hawke's been stalling her mission. The elders suspect foul play, or a change of heart. For both your sakes, I hope that Hawke completes her mission with haste."  Seeun gripped the phone tightly, wishing from the bottom of her heart that the elders were wrong. From the back of her pocket, Seeun took out a picture, one she had taken after sending a PI after Chaewon. "Woah, who's that!" Isa exclaimed as she rushed to Seeun's side. "Just someone I know." Seeun answered, eyes trained on the picture "She's cute." Isa commented, raising her hands up in surrender when Seeun shot her a dirty look. "You're not wrong." Seeun chuckled, looking forlornly at the picture in her hand. "Why haven't you asked her out yet?" Isa teased, nudging Seeun on the shoulder, a sense of sadness washing over Seeun. "There's certain restrictions for now, but soon, I'll ask her out soon. Don't you worry about it Chae." "You've got to introduce us, alright?" Isa asked, small smile on her face, happy to know her friend had someone special. "Of course." 

"I need to go, now!" Seeun shouted, her eyes locked on her phone in fear as she called for Sumin. "Unnie, I need to leave, it's an emergency." "Wha- Seeun, we have a performance soon, the manager won't let you leave." Sumin looked at Seeun in confusion, partly worried about what had her friend so spooked "Please." Seeun pleaded, and Sumin finally relented. Seeun nodded, sprinting out of the room as she headed back to headquarters, running into her old mentor and handler. "Deadshot, you can't be here." Cain warned, knowing what Seeun had come back for. "I need to talk to the elders, please." Seeun pleaded with Cain, panic bubbling in her chest. "Seeun, are you sure you want to do this. The elders aren't people you want to owe." Cain warned, unwilling to see someone he had grown to care for throw herself into such a dangerous situation. "Please, Cain." Seeun asked once again. After deep thought, Cain nodded, making a call on his phone, then leading Seeun down the hallway. Seeun entered the room to see 4 people, sat behind a table as they stared her down. "Elders, I'm here to plead for leniency for Hawke." Seeun said, bowing down at the 4 figures. "Hawke has betrayed us, and forsaken her mission because she fell in love with her target. She has put Yggdrasil at risk, she must be put down." One of the figures spoke, causing Seeun to panic. "There has to be a way to pardon her. Both Hawke and I have done so much for Yggdrasil." "You have, but that does not change the fact that insubordination must be punished." In her desperation, Seeun proposed a compromise. "I'll do it! I'll finish Hawke's mission, then we'll leave, Yggdrasil will not be in danger. I'm one of the best agents in the history of Yggdrasil, putting me on this mission is as close to a surefire as you're gonna get." Hearing this proposal, the first elder raised an eyebrow, seemingly intrigued by the propostion. "You got out Deadshot. You have a life now, as a celebrity I believe. Doing this will jeopardise your life. Do you understand the risks?" The elder questioned, Seeun nodding. She'd do anything to get Y/N out of danger. The 4 elders looked to each other, murmuring and discussing, before finally nodding. "The elders accept your proposal, Hawke will be spared and released, contingent on the elimination of Kim Chaewon." "Thank you."

"Ms Kim will be making a public appearance in 2 days. Be warned though, Hawke knows that the company will not cease in their assault on Ms Kim, and she knows how our agents operate, so there will be tons of security. Good luck Deadshot." Cain gave a quick brief, rolling a map across the table and leaving Seeun a key. Grabbing the key, Seeun turned, opening the drawers behind her, retrieving her modified assault rifle, the weapon of her torment, but just one more time. This was all just for one more time.  "This is going to be a mistake. Do you really think Hawke will go with you after you kill her lover in cold blood?" Cain questioned, looking at Seeun in pity. "I have to, I'm doing this to keep her alive." Seeun whispered.

The sickening crunch and crack of bones filled the empty room, the body of security hired to protect the event Chaewon was hosting collided with the wall, then collapsing onto the ground. Seeun quickly found a perch offering her an eyeline to the podium, setting up her rifle bipod, proning to get a good eyeline on Chaewon. After minutes of waiting, Chaewon finally emerged from the building, shadowed by you as you looked around carefully. Seeing you, Seeun froze. She hadn't seen you in 3 years, and you hadn't changed one bit. You still looked every bit as radiant as the day Seeun left. Seeun quickly shook it off, refocusing as she scoped in onto Chaewon. Seeun took a deep breath, her scope trained onto Chaewon, then pulled the trigger.

The world came crashing down around her, widespread panic ensued, as medics crowded around the fallen body, cries of despair filling the area, and Seeun fell back in shock. How did this happen? No. No. No. This was not supposed to happen. You weren't supposed to see the glare, you weren't supposed to know someone else had a sniper to Chaewon. You weren't supposed to be fast enough. You saw the glare, and immediately recognised what it was, charging at Chaewon to get her down, and out of the sniper's view. But it all happened too late. Chaewon was safe, but on top of her, laid your limp body, blood spurting from your neck as Chaewon screamed. From her rooftop, Seeun fell back in shock, panic and despair filling her body as she stared at her mess, the consequences of her actions dawning upon her, your lifeless body being the only thing Seeun could see, letting out a scream of pure agony. Seeun then felt a searing pain in her abdomen, her scream alerting other members of security to her position, and they swiftly took her down. But Seeun didn't care. What was the point of life if you weren't in hers? Seeun didn't want to live without you. As she laid on the rooftop, breathing laboured and raggedy, she realised that Cain was right. About you, and about her.

For people like you and Seeun, Love was like a bullet to the brain

[violethursday]

A thought

Since we're going to get Inkopolis Square in the second wave of the DLC, that means we might get another urchin to fill in Murch's spot since he's now in Splatsville. Because of this possibility, I got a few ideas of various species this urchin could be.

Colobocentrotus atratus, known as the Helmet Urchin

Tripneustes gratilla, known as the Collector Urchin

Heterocentrotus mamillatus, known as the Red Pencil Urchin

Pseudocentrotus depressus, known as the Pink Sea Urchin

[dapper-comedy]

“Once upon a time, there were the wolves, and the hunters. Now, the wolves, as you well know, are of the most esteemed nobles and founders of Midsummer Meadows, and we should be so thankful! But back then, they were not quite as fortunate.”

“Well, you mentioned hunters, so I would imagine so.”

The old, weathered hare turned a glare towards Adelaide, and the mouse instantly retreated to her little notepad, pencil scribbling as if something else took her attention completely. The house sounded with rain lightly pattering the roof, wind rudely tapping against the windows; and yet the crackle of the fireplace promised warmth and safety as old hare Liesel let out a quiet harrumph, sinking herself back into her worn red chair.

“If you were half as patient as you were sharp, you’d have gotten the whole story by now, miserable urchin.” She muttered, her paws folding across her stomach, feet extending towards the fire. Adelaide was quite warm enough, her cup of tea (poured out of an obligatory hospitality) already lukewarm now, and untouched, but perhaps a chill in one’s bones came with old age. 

“So... the wolves and the hunters?” The mouse prompted. Liesel made a nasty sound, waving a dismissive paw.

“Yes, yes. The wolves and the hunters. It was miserable times, then. The wolves were mighty, but the hunters outnumbered them. For years upon years, they hunted the wolves, slaughtering them, chopping their heads off, until they kenneled the wolves into a pen. Released like toys, every winter to run, and they would hunt them again. A cruel, vicious cycle.”

Liesel stared into the crackling and popping flames, eyes half-lidded and for a moment, Adelaide was fearful she would fall asleep. But the hare continued.

“It was years of slaughter. Years of hunters playing games, laughing, tossing the bodies of their prey outside the pens, while flinging their heads inside to frighten the new pups that would be born. Until enough was enough. The head of the most esteemed family here, Lord Octavius Levisay, was gifted a dream-”

“A dream?” Adelaide interrupted, leaning forward in her seat eagerly. Her eyes had that glimmer to them, and her whiskers twitched in excitement, “From who?”

“Well, little urchin, if you waited, you might find out!” Liesel snapped. The mouse let out a huff of exasperation, settling down as the old woman cleared her throat.

“As I said, Octavius Levisay was gifted a dream, from Pan himself- You heard me!” She interrupted herself, as if anticipating Adelaide’s next words, and true enough, the mouse was near trembling with emotion. “From Pan himself. He was instructed to take the bodies of the previous prey thrown, and pluck them of their fur. From that, they would craft scarves, imbued with the magic of Pan, that would allow them to tie their heads to their necks. Then, once these scarves were crafted, and held their heads to their necks, on the first night of winter, when they would be released for the hunters to ready themselves in the morning, they would hide their scarves among the bodies in the pen, and run. When they would be hunted, as they would be, their heads thrown into the pen, they would take their scarves, tying their heads to their necks, and run once more- for good. Octavius did not say where, but if it was word from Pan, then it was a blessing they would not refuse.”

“And so, they crafted their scarves, fur glistening with magic of Pan, and the love of their lost ones, and on the first night of winter, they hide their scarves among the decapitated bodies. They were hunted, one by one, their heads chopped, and thrown into the pens. Until they were all found and the hunters ended their hunt early, for there was a blizzard approaching. But this did not stop the wolves.”

Liesel let out a sigh, her lungs whistling like a moth-eaten pipe, and her shoulders hunched up higher, her twitching nose buried in the scarf she wore indoors. 

“Taking their scarves and wrapping them around their necks, they escaped into the night. Their fresh blood stained the scarves scarlet, but did not drip. Octavius led the pack, of course, but it was not an easy journey. Even a trip or fall would cause a wolf to stumble, their head tumbling from their neck, which made them realize something. Pan had not promised the longevity of the magic- gods can be fickle like that.” The hare leaned up from her chair, spitting into the fire, earning a faint sizzle, but nothing else.

“Once their heads fell from their necks, that was it. The magic of the scarves would not bring them back. Many were lost in that blizzard, staining the snow, only to be covered by it once more by the merciless winds. But they continued. Octavius was determined to find a home and safety for his family, and for all beasts and creatures.”

There was a silence, Liesel staring into the fire, and Adelaide looked up from her notepad at last, noting the pregnant pause. This time, she made no prompt or push to continue, letting the silence settle, and making the most of the tea she’d been offered (making a face when she found it now cold).

“The Levisay descendants of today don’t know how exactly they found it. There are many different versions of that part. Some say that on the first day of spring, when the blizzard cleared, crocus sprouted into a path, and led them here. Others say that they stumbled onto a river of ice, it broke, and drifted them to the Meadows.  No one really knows. But they found it. Home. Midsummer Meadows. Of course, they named it different back then- the Equinox Fields, being spring and all. They changed it once they found the wall and the Beings behind it.”

Adelaide cleared her throat, as if asking permission to finally speak, and though Liesel seemed displeased, she waved a paw and thus it was given.

“Could you explain why the Levisay family still wear red scarf-like accessories today? Is it to honor their ancestors and Octavius, or-?

At this, the hare’s eyes gleamed, and a wicked grin crossed her features as she leaned forward in her slumped position (Adelaide was near convinced she’d slide off, relieved the hare was moving up). Her voice lowered, and so the mouse leaned closer, nose twitching at the smell of cabbage and sharp peppermint.

“You didn’t hear it from me,” Liesel whispered, her voice rushed in excitement, “Some call it a curse, others call it a consequence. It’s said that each Levisay born was born with their heads detached. They claim it’s tradition, but my great grandmother worked for them years ago, so I know! I know! It’s unclear why! Whether it be the fickleness of gods, the consequence of dodging death, or the residue of magic in their blood from their scarves... No one knows. But why else do those wolves remain clear of hazards, and keep their scarves and shawls, and dainty little handkerchiefs tied so tightly?”

Adelaide lowered her notepad to her lap, astonished. For a moment, she joined Liesel as they both stared into the fireplace. The history of Midsummer Meadows weighed heavy in her mind, questions occasionally springing up, but none spilling from her lips. Absent-mindedly she sipped at the cold tea, until, as she opened her mouth to speak-

Liesel made another nasty noise, waving her paw once more, as if waving Adelaid away. The mouse blinked blankly, baffled as to what the old hare could want, until her ears twitched- the sound of rain and wind no longer there. The only sound the house cradled was the crackle of the fireplace.

“Well.” Adelaid spoke, her word carrying some finality in it. 

Liesel did not move or speak.

“Thank you, Miss Liesel, for the history lesson.” Adelaide tried again. The hare continued to stare into the fire.

Hopping off her chair, she folded her notepad, and slipped it inside her satchel, before clearing her voice and nodding a farewell, though whether Liesel saw it or not, it was unclear. 

The mouse exited the cottage, taking a deep breath of fresh air.

The sun shone down once more on Midsummer Meadows.

[noaasanctuaries]

Red pencil urchins like this one are one of the most distinctive species of sea urchins! 

Found in throughout the waters of Hawai‘i, these urchins have thick, pencil-shaped spines that are typically bright red. In Native Hawaiian, they're known as hā‘uke‘uke ‘ula‘ula. This one was spotted at Kure Atoll in Papahānaumokuākea Marine National Monument! 

(Photo: Claire Fackler/NOAA)

[druidofsuburbs]

Antarctic - Bottom Dwellers 4″x4″ watercolor. 2014

by Zachary Melisi

Part of a school project on Arctic and Antarctic ecosystems.

Pencil Urchin (Eucidaris tribuloides) Red Sea Star (Asteroidea species) Brittle Star (Ophionotus victoridae) Sea Spider (Pycnogonidae species)   

[slasherrabbitmadness]

Victorian DILF Brahms x Female Reader

Slasher Victorian AU series Featuring Brahms Heelshire.

Divider by https://firefly-graphics.tumblr.com/

Series: Don't forget who you belong to.

Chapter 1

Prompt: 79

Brahms taps his foot under his large, dark oak desk. He taps his pencil on a stack of papers, legal documents for his clients, ranging from the mundane like Mr. Krueger complaining about his neighbor Mr. Voorhees, ranging from 'standing there, menacingly' to ' He breathed in my direction.' To the extreme as an abuse case against a young vulnerable girl named Carrie.

Brahms pinches the bridge of his nose, the paper in front of him the most important and he was to not be paid for solving the problem. He picks up the paper to re-read the sections that stuck out the most.

We are advising you on your son, Lawrence, we regret to inform you of his wild, ruckus-filled behavior. We understand that young boys have a degree of tomfoolery to them but he, Lawrence, is turning out to be one who fancies himself an urchin.

Brahms grunts, eyes scanning the page,

He recently had put candy, that was similar in appearance to the headmistresses medication.

Brahms chuckles,

He also has set up a boxing club. He charges the boys a pence a piece for admittance and takes bets against the two boys fighting.

Brahms bit his lip, his cheeks turning pink. He clears his throat as a co-worker glances his way.

His face fell as he re-read the final line.

If these behaviors fail to be corrected over the upcoming break, we recommend a crammer school for young Lawrence.

Brahms slams the paper down on the desk, he leans back in his chair, gripping the arm of the chair, "Crammer school" he seethes. Brahms made a vow to Gerti, to never let their son end up at such a place, he was to be a gentleman and a gentleman comes from a gentlemanly background. Not a Crammer school for the slow and sluggish, a Gentleman's brute offspring to be fed into the army for slaughter.

"Any plans for the night?"

Brahms snaps his head towards his co-worker, Mr. Bates.

"Any plans for the night, Brahms? Taking the maid out for another moving picture?" Mr. Bates grins and nudges Brahms's shoulder with his elbow.

"Ah, no, she's been," Brahms twirls the pencil in his fingers, "Busy."

Brahms glances at his desk, the picture of his late wife and son.

Mr. Bates's eyes follow Brahms's, "You know, I'm sure Gerti doesn't mind. Lawrence adored her, yes, I'm sure that boy is dying for a new one," He rests his clammy hand on Brahms's shoulder, "After all, a boy's best friend is his mother."

Brahms recoils, "By God, Norman, listen to yourself," Brahms brushes off Norman's hand as he stands, "A Boy needs friends his own age," He grabs his important papers, stacking them loosely, he yanks his briefcase from under the desk to slam it on his desk, "Not a mother as a friend."

You gleefully prepare the ginger beer, the old beige and brown bottles embedded with the Heelshire name. You scan the current bottle in your hands, "1771" you read aloud, "My goodness."

You delicately place the plates on the table, humming as you admired the beautiful set. "This costs more than one week's wage." Another tentative glance, "Which is why..." You twirl in the drawing-room, "I'm getting another job!"

Your mind raced back to last week...

The carriage ride was bumpy, every bump from a pothole to a large rock made your already uneasy stomach flip.

"Almost there, miss!" The coach called out to you, "Sorry for the ride, Daniel has made a donation to get the road fix, beautiful ain't it?"

"Yes, that's very kind of him." You opened the flyer in your hand, you read the bold letters over the top,

Apple Pickers wanted weekend work. Only at Daniel Candy's Farm

"Tis nice of him to hire those with no work history or those already with a job, ain't it?"

"Yes, that's very kind of him." You repeated. You brought your attention to the upcoming estate, the large white manor stood out among the hues of greens, from the grass to the pine and oak trees in a neat line leading to the entrance of the manor.

The coachman helped you out of the carriage, "Now, miss, memba' to curtsey and all that."

"Thank you, and thank you for being so kind."

"I only hire the best."

Your breath caught in your throat, eye bugged out to the tall man who appeared to appear as if from nowhere. You looked up, the source of the voice, the deep baritone still carried itself within you.

"My coachman, I only hire the best, shall you prove me right?" His voice was like thick honey, his onyx eyes were warm, his hand was large with not a hint of labor upon it.

You froze, swallowed a hesitant hello, hand reached for his, "It's is very nice to meet you," His hand melded in yours, his thumb rubbed the back of your hand in small delicate circles, "Mr. Robitaille"

"Daniel works just fine." He flashed a bright smile, his eyes twinkled as they stared into yours.

"Daniel," you bite your lip, "It's nice to meet you, Daniel." and curtseyed.

He led you along a light dirt path adjacent to the abundant apple trees. The birds in the trees sang a beautiful melody, they danced between the trees, the songs becoming more jovial as you and Daniel walked.

"You'll be working for the next three weeks, Thursdays," He waved to one of the workers picking apples, "Fridays," He nodded at a male with a wheelbarrow full of apples, "and Saturdays." He placed his large hand on your upper back, "If that is alright with Mr. Heelshire?"

You squeaked at the mention of Brahms, "Ah, yes,"

"Hesitation my dear, would he not be so accepting of a free woman working where she pleases?"

You shook your head, tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, "It's not that, he just..."

"He doesn't know." Daniel finished for you with a knowing laugh.

You shied away from his words, eyes took in the mass of workers, happily picking apples, chatting with one other, the made it look easy being up twenty feet high on the ladder to pick the apples.

"Pray tell," Daniel removed his hand from your upper back, "Why do you need this job?"

"Well, money." You said earnestly. "I could use the extra money is all."

"For family?" He asked, accepting an apple from one of his workers. He admired the deep red color, "A gift for Mr. Heelshire?"

You wrung your hands together. You chocked in a breath, "It's private."

Daniel stopped, a low chuckle as you had noticed he stopped. He grinned as you fiddled with your fingers, face turned to the ground, a coy smile over your delicate features.

"What's his name?" Daniel stepped to you, his baritone sent a shiver down your spine. "I'd like to hear it be spoken from such shy lips." Daniel rolled the apple in his hand, nudged it towards you, gesturing for you to take it.

You hesitated, your hands shook as you tentatively grabbed the apple. You stared at the red fruit, the color deep and rich, "His name is Daniel Cain, well, Dan, he goes by Dan."

A startled laugh erupted from Daniel. You jumped, eyes darted to the workers around you, their eyes fell upon Daniel. "Do tell, does this Dan Cain happen to be studying at University of London?"

You stammered out, "Yes,"

"How admirable. So tell me, a gift for the young man?"

"No, it's." You roll the apple in your hand, you looked up at Daniel, "A new dress, I wish to look beautiful, well," You grimaced, "At least while with him."

Daniel frowned, his hand reached for yours, you gasped as he held firm, "Pardon for being cliche, but you are already beautiful, How your hair shines in the sun, to how the sun lights up your eyes, your timid nature is quite endearing." He winked at you.

"Come," Daniel gestured, "I shall introduce you to Carrie, she'll be your site boss for the next three weeks."

You jump from the front door slams open, Brahms shouting as he entered, "Please come to the foyer, my love."

You cringe, the nickname spills so easily from him, saying it like it was second nature, "Yes, Sir, be there soon."

"This instant, my love. I need you here."

Your eyes linger on the half-set table, too busy with your dancing and reminiscing to fully finish your job. "Coming, Sir!"

You walk out of the drawing-room, feet picking up pace as you make your way down the narrow hall, the green carpet embroidered with gold string, bought in Egypt, fairly recently. The walls a dark wood, matching the soil in the garden. The small lamps light up the hallway in a yellow hue. The walls lined with portraits of Heelshires past, their eyes unnerved you with every quick walkthrough you made through the hallway.

Brahms sighs and lets his shoulders relax as you step into view. He removes his jacket, tossing it on the coat rack, "Are the Victorian sandwiches done? Is the Ginger Beer ready?" He asks while loosening his tie, his adam's apple bobbed, "Hm?"

You wince "I was a little distracted, I'm terribly sorry, Sir."

"Brahms, we've been over this, my love, you may call me Brahms."

"Sorry, Brahms." You choke out his name, "Is there anything you need of me at this moment?" You place a warm smile over your face, eyes looking at him as he took off his custom-made shoes.

"Is it so bad for a man to want a woman to greet him when he's come after a hard day's work?" His bright smile made rock in place, heart thumping rapidly in your chest. "You know how good it feels to see your warm face as I get home?"

"I can't say I do." You answer earnestly.

"Do you not feel a sense of joy as I come home?"

You squint your eyes, gaze adverting his, you cough "Yes, I do." You look back at him, "I am simply your maid, Si-Brahms." You gesture to him to follow you down the hall, "I feel great joy when I see you come home to your...home."

"Our home. This place is just as much mine as it is yours." Brahms steps in front of you, gesturing for you to follow him. "You sleep here, eat here, are here every weekend..." He glances at the paintings in the dimly lit hall, "I mean, you must like it if you are here in your free time."

You flinch, nails scratching in the back of your hand, "Uhm, Yes."

Brahms reaches the table as he stares back at you, his eyes narrow, "Sit." He pulls out the ornate chair, his hand padding down the expensive leather, "Enjoy lunch with me."

You smooth your dress from behind as you sit, scooting up as he pushed you closer to the table. Brahms rounded the table, a jovial smile as he sat himself across from you, delicately placing a napkin on his lap.

"Now, how has your day been?" He starts, shoving a victoria sandwich in his mouth, rolling his eyes in ecstasy, "Mhm, my love this is delicious, you outdid yourself."

You giggle, shaking your head, "No, Brahms it's nothing. Just same old same old."

"You sell yourself too short." Brahms clears his throat, "This weekend," He wiped his hands of crumbs, "My son is coming home, he hasn't been excelling at school like he should be," He took a sip of the ginger beer, an approving smile after he gulped, "So I shall be sending him to a nearby crammer school."

You nod, "I'm sure in the end it'll work out for the best." He sips the beer, letting the taste linger on your tongue, "After all, probably be for the best he comes back home. I can imagine boarding school can be isolating after a death," You froze, eyes wide in panic as you glance at Brahms, "I'm so sorry." You place down the glass of beer.

Brahms laughs, the corner of his lips pulling up, "No no, don't be sorry, it's very true." He sips again, "Very true. Ever since Gerti crossed onto the other side, little Lawrence has been lost." He coughs, "He'll be more than thrilled to be home, hid loving father, his second favourite lady ready to greet him with open arms."

"This weekend?" you ask, "This Saturday?"

Brahms stills, his eyes squint, "Yes, I already said this weekend."

Your throat constricts, a burning sensation spreads throughout you. You look away, eyes catching on the ornate couch.

Brahms reaches his hand out to you, his thumb running on the back of your hand, "My love, what?" He raises his brow, leaning in, "What's the problem with Saturday?"

"I have something private to attended to." You state, eyes falling back to his, "I won't be here to greet Lawrence." You swallow, the burning searing through you, "I'm terribly sorry."

Brahms stood up, one stride and he was at your side, "Tell, why won't you be there? It mustn't be family matters, they live awfully far away, days by train." He leans in, "Something in town perhaps?"

You nod with a smile, "I shall be away this coming Friday and days thereafter, a flower picking job just a town over, the lady of the manor is allowing me room and board, very sweet of her." You sip more ginger beer, hands shaking as you brought the glass to your chapped lips.

Brahms places his large hand on your upper back, "Flower picking job?"

"Yes."

"What flower?"

"Excuse me?"

"What flower are you picking?" Brahms leans in closer to you, his other hand resting on the table, "I'm sure you know."

You grin at him, "Narcissus, beautiful flowers." You gulp back more ginger beer.

"That's a nice flower. Beautiful." He leans in closer, his eyes holding a critical glint. "Pray tell, how will you be picking a flower out of season?" He smiles down at you, licking his teeth, his hand clenches around yours. Your mouth agape, breath held. You choke as he leans closer to you, "I know apples are in season."

The air felt thick, the air from your lungs fell from your mouth in rapid breaths, the grandfather clock ticked, each one was felt in your spine. You jump as the grandfather clock thunders out his five pm chime.

You breathe in, "It's only for three weekends," You start, "No more than that."

Brahms chuckles, his fingers pressing into your back, "No more than that...why?" He rests his elbow on the table, chin in his palm, "Why the work when I could easily up your pay."

Your lips in a tight line, eyes dry, bugging out as you stare into his, "Savings." You lie.

Brahms slides his arm around your shoulder, his bicep flexing on the back of your neck, his hand running up and down your arm. He leans into your ear, "If by savings, do you mean Dan?"

[littledevilsalai]

1. The Accused

In the Louvre, there’s a red-pencil portrait of a young boy with unruly hair. Everything about this child crackles with electricity. The gaze of his large, heavy-lidded eyes radiates resentment. His lips are obstinately pressed tight, as if defying his captor to make him speak.

And yet he sits still and lets himself be drawn.

He’s not the one. We know he’s not, even if we’re not sure of his name. He’s been misidentified a million times, maybe due to our own wishful thinking. We say to ourselves: But he could be Salaì, couldn’t he?

Look at that face.

Sure he could.

Let's read the charges against him:

He’s a gutter rat, an urchin, an orphan. He’s a thief, a liar, stubborn, greedy. Even so young, he lures and seduces. He’s a mercenary, hands stretched out to grab what he can. He's a lousy painter, an imitator, a fraud. He's a diva; petty, jealous, vain. He has two dozen shoes and clothing encrusted with jewels. He's a sore loser. He’s dead weight. Deserving nothing, he steals everything. He keeps the best for himself. He betrays and abandons. He dies a pointless death. He had it coming.

This is everything they say about him. But let's begin again, at the beginning.

[encyclopika]

Animal Crossing Fish Explained - Habitats #3

Brought to you by a marine biologist dreaming of a tropical vacation...

CLICK HERE FOR THE AC FISH EXPLAINED MASTERPOST!

We’re staying in the Neritic Zone, or nearshore, for a little bit. Like I said yesterday, the Neritic Zone has so many different types of bottom habitat, and this is because it is within the range in which light penetrates into the ocean (about 200 meters). This is important, because most ecosystems rely on plants or other photosynthesizing organisms to bridge the gap between the energy of the sun and life itself. Just like on land, there are certain habitats that do a better job of supporting and diversifying life than others. On land, those are rainforests. In the ocean, they are coral reefs.

I spoke about coral themselves when I went over the beach shells. Basically, you should know that corals are giant structures made up of tiny animals called coral polyps. Coral polyps are related to jellies and anemones in the phylum Cnidaria. They have a symbiotic, or mutual, relationship with special algae, called zooxanthellae, that live in their tissues. The algae photosynthesize and make food for the polyp, and the polyp is basically its house that ensures that, for as long as they both live, it has access to a great spot in the sun and is protected from predators that otherwise love to chow on algae. 

Coral reefs are the result of countless of these tiny animals settling on top of the empty shells past polyps have left behind over hundreds, thousands, millions of years. You can imagine that corals grow very slowly and only the thin, top layer is “alive” (and defending its turf, preventing other polyps from settling on it). 

^Little coral polyps filter feeding!

So, yeah. Corals are amazing and so beautiful. If you ever get the chance to dive or snorkel over a coral reef, you should. If you’re thinking about a tropical vacation after this pandemic goes away, you’ll be in the right place for corals anyway. Coral reefs, at least the shallow-water variety (there are deep sea corals, but they are beyond the scope of this tank), are exclusively in tropical seas. They require warm waters (but not too warm) and lots of sunlight to feed their algae friends. This means there are only a few places corals really thrive. We’ve all heard of The Great Barrier Reef on the east coast of Australia, but there are other barrier reefs around the world, including one here in the Western Hemisphere off the coast of Belize. Corals also thrive in the Red Sea near Egypt, around the Florida Keys, throughout Indonesia and The Philippines, Hawaii etc etc. They only cover 1% of the seafloor.

There are a bunch of different types of reef systems depending on the geology of the area, and some reefs have taken 30 million years to grow, as is the case for most atolls, like those in the Maldives. 

 Okay, so how much biodiversity do coral reefs support?

A LOT! Like...25% of marine species depend on a coral reef, either for their whole lives, or for just part of it.

Coral reefs not only support a lot of animals, but also humans. About 500 million people worldwide depend on coral reefs for their livelihoods and sustenance. 

ACNH’s coral reef is just gorgeous, and most likely represents an Indo-Pacific coral reef. The animals in this tank are:

Napoleonfish :: Clown Fish :: Butterflyfish :: Surgeonfish :: Spiny Lobster :: Sea Cucumber :: Flatworm :: Spotted Garden Eel :: Slate Pencil Urchin :: Mantis Shrimp :: Pearl Oyster :: Ribbon Eel :: Tiger Prawn :: Mussel :: Umbrella Octopus :: Sea Slug :: Sea Grapes :: Sea Anemone :: Gigas Giant Clam :: Lobster (who shouldn’t be in this damn tank)

And there you have it. Fascinating stuff, no?

[ashleydiscovers]

Finally found a pencil sea urchin and realized that they have been living in colonies at the dive spot I’ve been going out to this entire time! Look at how beautiful it is! IG: @ashleydiscovers

[end0skeletal-undead]

The red pencil urchin is a species of tropical urchin native to the Indo-Pacific. It is mainly sedentary but will move small distances to graze on algae.

(Photos by Jack, troy mckaskle, Jeff Moore, Galen Piehl, and the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service)

[anxiouslyfred]

The Picture is Not Finished Yet

The way my anxiety and creativity works, as well as how I’ve seen it work in my mother is that if we’re worried we turn to creative outlets to escape them. I’ve ended up with some pretty brilliant things over time because of this.

I’ve just been wanting to write and decided to see where playing off that idea for some platonic Prinxiety would go, although you could see this as pre-romantic if you wanted I guess

Sort of inspired by ‘Anything’ from the Ultimate Storytime Soundtrack

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

“So pick up a pencil, a stencil a crayon, the picture is not finished yet.”

Virgil first started trying to calm down using art when Thomas sang those lines during the Ultimate Storytime Tour. If you hear and say something often enough then sooner or later it begins to have an affect after all.

That was how Virgil had always reasoned it out, from the first time he tentatively tried to draw with Remus only to leave in a hurry over all the comments and suggestions the other would make. That had been the only time he had tried to draw around anybody else.

Now all the Sides knew him and Thomas had accepted his presence, even enjoyed it occasionally but they all thought it was the fidget toys that he used to remain calm. He kept the drawing a secret, only using it to relax when alone in his room, putting the pencils and books away carefully whenever he used them.

That changed when Roman broke.

Among the light sides it had always been an accepted fact that each side stood for more than just Logic, Morality or Creativity, but they all failed to act that on a daily basis. They’d revert back to focusing on their title roles, letting the rest just carry on behind the scenes unless a big enough issue cropped up.

Virgil had been used to looking for and remembering the things Deceit and Creativity did that weren’t covered in their titles. Forgetting could come with threat of being clubbed among them after all. He still missed some of the early signs that the Ego was failing.

Then Roman didn’t show up a week after he’d stopped singing and the day Virgil had finally pulled some courage to try and bring it up. It would almost be going against his own title role to help here but nobody else had been reacting yet and all he could do with subtlety was make a few drinks without being asked.

He stood outside the door to Creativity’s room, taking in the differences to Remus’s door. Where one had splinters the other had perfectly sanded wood, where one was covered in paint splatters one had musical notes carved together. 

Finding a common ground to reach out to Roman had been difficult before Virgil saw his sketchbook, but actually admitting what it was for was difficult. So he just stood outside the door, hoping the words you come.

Instead of anything new to say the song came back to him once more, the one which first started Virgil’s attempts to draw out his worries. “You can let someone else tell you your story, you can let someone else tell you what’s true, or you can set yourself free, climb the tallest highest tree or maybe sit back and take in the view.” He spoke the words, not wanting to sing if Roman hadn’t been.

A song was still his reply. “Yes you can let yourself let yourself do Anything.”

Roman opened the door a moment later, traces of tears still visible on his face and his expression was tentative, but curious as he looked at Virgil through the crack he allowed it to open. “If you’re trying to serenade me, aren’t you meant to sing?” 

“Actually I was trying to ask if you wanted to draw for a while.” Virgil shrugged, holding up the sketchbook, “And maybe see how you’re actually doing.”

“Anxiety ... draws?” Roman paused, furrowing his brow as he took in the information, but did open the door just enough to let him in. “Since when?”

It was easy to let his question be ignored for a moment, just finding a spot on the carpet he could fold himself onto. Instead of replying Virgil opened the sketchbook to the first page, on he had actually dated the picture on though that idea hadn’t remained.”Since the tour, although I’m hoping you’ll be easier to draw around than the green fool. 

Roman laughed a little at that, looking at the picture and the parts that clearly had to have been suggested by his brother. “I’m not up to giving any suggestions at the moment so probably.”

“We’ve not been looking after the ego much recently, have we?” The disparaging comment was enough for Virgil to bring up the most concerning thing to bring him to Roman’s room.

No reply was heard, and for all the various paints, pencils, felt tips, fine liner pens and anything else that could be used to draw being summoned there didn’t seem to be one forthcoming.

The only colouring item left out from their new hoard was crayons or something for Roman to draw on. The second thing Virgil easily rectified, placing his sketchpad between them, and offering Roman a fine red pen. “Why don’t you do an outline for a hero while I draw something you can be rescuing a fair prince from?” He suggested.

After half an hour of drawing quietly, Virgil looked up in confusion as a drop of water his the page. Some Disney songs had started playing while he was absorbed in their art, but more importantly Roman was starting to cry and Virgil was only just in time to stop the hand about to scribble through the hero drawn on the page.

“There’s a wonderful picture there, and a lovely prince across from me, so can I take that pen back while we calm down?” Virgil spoke quickly, hoping the compliments would at least calm Roman a little.

“But it’s horrible!” Roman protested, still trying to destroy whatever he’d drawn until he was wrestled into a hug. 

Wrapping his arms around the other tightly enough to still the fight, Virgil sighed. “Now if I were Patton I’d probably tell you to stop insulting my friend but all I want to do is point out you’ve literally got me working against my role right now. Leave the anxiety to me, Princey.”

“I can’t even create well.” The words were small, a quiet insecurity that had lurked for too long without being given a voice.

Virgil glanced back to their picture, one hand coming up to stroke Roman’s hair. “Between Logan’s words and Patton’s encouragement it does seem you don’t get the right level of creative support here sometimes, but the picture is not finished yet.” He sighed, tempted to summon Deceit who was always better at finding the right words to say. “Don’t judge a story before it’s finished or a painting before it’s done, Especially when you are the one creating it Roman.”

“Thomas deserves perfect creations, perfect Sides.” The protest was weaker now, a clear sign that his words were helping, bolstering the ego Roman seemed to forget he looked after.

“So what, you think I was always perfect? That Deceit and Remus fill those expectations?” The scoff came automatically, but the snicker at Roman’s instant scowl was easy. “Dude, if we don’t need to be perfect cause we get to wear black, then just cause you wear white doesn’t stop you from being allowed imperfections and if it does you’ve given us a whole lot of paint to decorate your clothes with.”

Roman was pulling away then affronted at the idea and only realising he had freed Virgil’s arms when paints were grabbed a second later. “I am a Prince, you street urchin! I cannot run around looking as though the printer exploded on me!”

The affront and bolstered confidence was enough for Virgil to stop focusing on encouraging Roman and make a game of it, laughing as he lunged forwards. “But you can be perfect in more colours Princey. You’re an unfinished painting so get over here for more painting!”

Outside the door Remus heard the laughter and sighed. He’d known something was up with the other half of Creativity and could only be thankful that Virgil had managed to get there in time.

[lady-oceana9518]

My tiny little explorer💜 Emmy the emerald/mithrax crab on her way to forage for food🦀 I have a saltwater invertebrate tank that, in addition to Emmy, includes a conch, 2 pencil urchins, 2 brittle stars, a spiny red sea star, a peppermint shrimp, 2 bumblebee snails, 2 Pacific blue-legged hermit crabs and a Halloween hermit crab. Y’all, it is SO GOOD for my mental health and I highly recommend setting up an aquarium of your own if you’re able.

(I just did a water change which is why the tank looks a bit cloudy)