#he's gonna have an awesome garden and live his best diy gay life and hang out at the beach and everything's gonna be fiiiine :)

[yansurnummu]

Random OC ask, summer game! ⛱️☀️🌊.

What your OCs or favorite characters would be doing on a beach? In case they absolutely can't go on a beach, what other summer activity do they enjoy?

Bonus level - once answered, pass this ask to 3 other people's inboxes!

ooo thank you! this inspired something a little bittersweet, I hope you don't mind!

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“I would like to settle on Summerset,” Azandar said. “Someday. Zeht willing, I will have a ways to go until my retirement.”

Drals pulled his gaze from the water that stretched before them. Standing on the shore, it was easy to feel incredibly small in the face of the vast, open horizon.

“Retirement,” he sighed, long and suffering. “I've never considered it, really. It's a wonder I've made it this far.”

Azandar simply hummed in agreement.

The gentle sea breeze was cool as it passed them by. Drals let salt fill his lungs, and with it came a cold, sober peace.

“It is beautiful here,” he whispered, drawing Azandar's gaze.

“Isn't it?” Azandar smiled brightly. “We must return after this business is concluded. I would be happy to show you the sights.”

Drals swallowed. He ignored how his cursed eye itched where it was hidden beneath soft leather. Abyssal ink burned in his veins, a dull, feverish pulse that became more difficult to ignore with every passing day.

How quaint a thought retirement seemed. To have seen what he had seen, and try to live a normal life. To pretend that he had not glimpsed what it meant to be Daedra. His time was beginning to feel ever so ephemeral.

He was afraid that Azandar's optimism could not infect him, just this once. He exhaled a shuddering breath as he looked out once more across the sea.

“And what would you do here, anyways? In your retirement,” Drals asked with a shrug.

Azandar's gaze flicked towards him momentarily, and Drals knew by the way he paused to contemplate before speaking that he saw past his abrasive tone.

“On occasion I imagine a seaside abode, as cliché as it sounds,” Azandar said eventually. “Near enough to the convenience of town, but far enough to allow for quiet and privacy. Ample laboratory and library space, of course. Perhaps I would take up gardening – I've always wanted to try concocting my own blends of tea.”

“Gardening takes a lot of patience,” Drals snickered.

Azandar rolled his eyes.

“Well, perhaps I will keep you close at hand and have you do the gardening, since you are so patient,” he said, his tone playful and sarcastic in a way that pulled Drals just a bit further away from his inner darkness.

“I don't know,” he said with a smile. “I don't think the soil here is ideal for growing giant mushrooms.”

“Ugh,” Azandar groaned, though there was amusement in his eyes. “Disgusting. You will do no such thing on the premises of my seaside cottage.”

“Oh, so it's a cottage?” 

“My fantasy is realistic, of course. Coastal properties in the Isles are luxuriously expensive.”

Drals chuckled.

Despite himself, his mind wandered and he tried to picture it. A quiet life by the sea. White sand beneath his feet. 

He glanced sidelong at Azandar. His picture became a porch. Two chairs and a pot of tea. A warm, sunny morning shared with a friend.

“It sounds like a pleasant fantasy,” Drals said softly, his eye fixed over the water.

But he knew in his heart it could only be just that – a fantasy.