#it's a vague description

[a-sin-to-be-rin]

Cliffs: Slippery When Wet

While searching for Libertalia, Shoreline runs the Drake brothers aground.

An alternative beginning to A Thief's End: Chapter 13: Marooned

---

“On your right!”

The first thing Nate thinks is, Yeah, right. Because he isn't sure how Sam can see anything in this storm. They're moving so quickly, and rocks are appearing so suddenly, and ocean mist blends so thickly with savage rainfall that Nate can't see a damn thing.

“Watch out, watch out!” Sam is screaming over the waves. Whatever he thinks he sees, he really believes it's there.

Nate glances to the side, and that's when a flaming, 500 foot naval frigate smashes into their fishing boat.

“Oh, shit!”

The fishing boat splinters underneath them and tosses them to the waves, the frigate barreling through like a linebacker through wet tissue paper. 

“NATHAN!”

Nate slams against the water’s surface. The frigate's wake drags him down, and he frantically swims against it. But it's really no use. Nathan Drake may be a veteran explorer and a daring adventurer, but even he is subject to the forces of nature. (Or, in this instance, the forces of a giant, bloodthirsty Shoreline boat.)

The surface grows further and further away, and Nate allows himself to be sucked down, with the hopes that maybe, eventually, the boat will pass and the waters will calm.

---

The boat passes. The waters do not calm.

Nathan gasps for breath, coughing as seawater threatens to invade his lungs. He treads water a bit frantically and only semi-effectively.

“Sam?” he calls, but it comes out as a croak. There's no way Sam could hear him in a storm like this. The ocean is roaring, and the rain is torrential. Nate can barely hear himself.

Once he's no longer at risk of dry-drowning, Nathan searches the area. He can’t see much, really, but he’s willing to bet there are more Shoreline boats out there. He could try searching for one, hoping to climb aboard. But at the very least, he would be tossed back into the water. At most, they'd probably just shoot him. So stowing away isn’t an option.

All things considered, Nate is lucky. They’d crashed close to the island. Or… he thinks they crashed close to the island. It's tough to tell in the storm. All he can really do is start swimming and hope to run into something eventually.

The longer Nate paddles, the more he realizes how bone-deep exhausted he is. His muscles strain as he pushes through the water. Every so often, he catches himself slowing down, and he has to kick even harder to keep from sinking. Waves come and go, frequently breaking over his head and sending him spinning underwater. Each time, Nate manages his way back to the surface, but each time, he feels how much harder it is to swim. How much more his lungs burn.

In movies, when the stranded traveler finally sees land, they speed up, so eager and reinvigorated and desperate for reprieve that they get their second wind. But when Nathan finally gets close enough to see the shore, he can barely tread water anymore, much less swim. He’s so, so close, but his arms and legs simply won’t listen.

Look, guys, Nate tries to reason with his limbs. If I don't get out of the water now, I’m going to drown.

We’re cold, his arms argue back.

We’re tired, his legs agree.

You're useless, Nate thinks bitterly. Fine. I’ll do it myself.

But without arms and legs, Nathan is little more than a limbless torso with a head. And for a limbless torso with a head, he does pretty well for himself. But the expectations aren't particularly high for limbless torsos with a head. So in actuality, he doesn't bring himself to shore. He barely stays afloat.

No, the real savior here is the tide. Mother Nature, in all her years of terrorizing Nate, finally cuts him a break. And through the tide alone, Nate washes up on the beach. He lifts his head out of the waterlogged sand and pushes himself up with jelly legs and marmalade arms. The rain continues its barrage, blowing sideways and stinging Nate’s face. But he’s already so soaked that it makes no difference.

“Alright,” Nathan mutters to himself, trying to muster the strength to trudge forward. “I gotta get off this beach.”

The sky is so dark that Nate can’t tell if it’s day or night. And unfortunately, the island is no more visible on land as it was from the water. He’s running blindly into the storm, deafened by rolling thunder and numbed by harsh wind against wet skin. It really should be no surprise that Nate slips almost immediately, falling off a rocky ledge, smacking his shoulder on the way down, and landing on his face.

For a long, dangerous second, Nathan considers staying put. Surely this can wait. His every muscle stings, spasming with fatigue. His shoulder pounds to the beat of his heart. He desperately needs a rest.

But then Nate starts thinking, and he realizes what he forgot.

“Goddamn it,” he growls, pushing himself up and breaking into an uneven jog. “SAM!”

There’s a very good chance that Sam didn’t even make it to shore. Maybe he found a boat. Maybe he was captured. Maybe he’s still in the water.

Maybe he’s dead.

Nate doesn’t hold onto that thought for long. He can’t. It would only make it that much harder to find Sam. (Because Sam is alive, dammit. He’s too stubborn to drown, and bullets obviously don’t have the same effect on him as they do everyone else.)

Wiping the rain from his eyes, Nathan finds a craggy outcrop in his way. The conditions are terrible for climbing, but the conditions are also terrible for running and swimming and trying to outgun a fleet of Shoreline ships, so what does Nathan care? He finds handholds and footholds and starts his ascent.

The climbing isn’t as bad as Nate expected. It’s slippery as hell, but the rocks are relatively short. It takes very little time to make it over the precipice. The view is dismal - just white waves and foreboding rocks sticking out of the water like giant daggers - but it gives him a glimpse of something else. Light, glinting off something to his left. So Nate carefully jumps down to the saturated shoreline. It jars his every joint and bone, but he can’t worry about it. He approaches the light, now clearly his supply box.

Or it was his supply box. Because there’s not a single supply inside. It’s just a useless box.

“For god’s s-” Nathan groans. “Of course. Everything’s gone.”

So Nate just moves right ahead. He really can’t stop right now.

“Maybe that’s a good sign,” he muses. “Maybe Sam took it.”

Maybe he’s looking for excuses to believe Sam is okay. Or maybe it’s true and Sam did take it. Who’s to say?

Nathan runs under a felled tree and climbs further up the cliff. “On the bright side, I can’t lose anything else… except my life.” And then something strikes him. “Talking to myself… That’s the first sign of crazy, isn’t it?”

And the second sign of crazy is asking yourself questions that you already know the answer to.

He pulls himself up yet another ledge, but his muscles are shaking worse than ever. The strength it takes to just walk, much less climb, is starting to get to him. His movements slow, limp worsening.

“Alright,” he tells himself. “I’m alright.”

And then Nathan steps off a cliff.

“Ugh!” he grunts, standing immediately. If he lays down now, he’ll never get back up. “Just push through,” he pants, moving forward. “Just push- augh!”

The ground beneath his feet crumbles, large chunks of rock splashing in the ocean below. Nate scrabbles for a solid surface, just barely grabbing hold in time. Once more, he pulls himself up and keeps moving.

“To hell with this place,” Nathan groans, carefully shuffling past the new gap in the ledge and climbing the next cliff face in his path. It’s getting worse. His head is spinning, and just reaching for handholds has him grunting like he’s playing in the finals at the Wimbledon. (Yeah, he watches tennis. What of it?)

But he reaches the top eventually, groaning and whining the whole way.

“Gotta keep going. Gotta keep going.”

The next climb is situated under a waterfall. Nate doesn’t consider this, because every climb has been wet. What’s a little running water going to do?

Kill you, Nate. It will probably kill you.

So he grabs hold, inching his way along a narrow ledge. He’s doing okay, considering, until the grip under his fingers is loosened by soggy moss. He slips, screams, and catches a lower ledge.

“Hah,” he wheezes. “That was… That was close.”

Slowly, painfully, he reaches up for a safer handhold. The muscles in his back are screaming. His injured shoulder shrieks.

And he slips again.

“No, no, no-!”

But Nathan has Drake luck. He grabs a piece of rock jutting out from the cliff face, slicing his hands in the process, but preventing certain doom. The waterfall is still dumping buckets on him, weakening his grip. He pulls himself upwards, barely managing to reach the next handhold. But he does reach it, and progress is progress.

And then the rock crumbles, his fingers slip, and he finds himself falling. There’s no catching himself this time. No close calls. He’s going to die.

Nate slams into solid rock, curls in on himself, and falls limp. Moving forward is no longer a question or a choice. It’s an impossibility. And though Nate loves himself a good challenge, he’s not going to beat this one.

---

Sam doesn’t like rain. That’s not particularly unique about him, but it is worth noting. So on a remote island, washed up and pummeled with a monsoon?

Not his scene.

“Nathan!” He keeps screaming, even though Nathan has yet to yell back. He’s worse than a lost dog, because at least lost dogs come when their name is called. Nathan just wanders.

And yet, Sam keeps shouting.

It’s been hours now. The dark clouds have thinned out, revealing light gray underneath. The sun is flirting with the horizon, but Sam imagines it might be another hour or so before they’re making out. The rain has tapered off, at least for the time being, reduced to a gentle mist. The ground is sodden, Sam’s boots sinking with every step, and plants drip with the remnants of the storm.

“Nathan!”

Sam must have walked halfway across the island by now. He’s taking the long way - running the perimeter of the island - in the hopes that Nathan is still on the beach. But at this rate, the likelihood of Nathan staying on the shore is getting slimmer and slimmer. More than once, Sam wonders if he should just give up and move inland. He could find a high cliff and signal for Nathan. That could definitely work. And it’s tempting, because once Sam reached the top, he could sit down and wait for Nathan to come to him.

But if Nathan was injured in the crash, he may not have left the beach at all. And the risk that Nathan is hurt and in need of assistance is greater than the relief that Sam would feel knowing that he doesn’t have to keep walking.

“Nathan!”

Sam is tired. He’s so, so tired, from his skin to his spleen to his skull. The crash roughed him up a bit, and dragging his ass to shore was no picnic either. And now, going on hour six (seven?) of searching, Sam is worn to the bone.

But that doesn’t stop him. When he spots the cove - when he spots his brother, collapsed on the ground - Sam breaks into a sprint.

“Nathan!” He slides to his knees, shaking Nathan’s shoulders. “Wake up!”

Nathan’s eyes snap open, looking at Sam like Sam just stole his Gameboy. (And Sam would know. He stole Nathan’s Gameboy back in ‘81. Legend has it, Nathan is still looking for it.) “Sam?”

“Yeah, dumbass. Don’t recognize your own brother?”

“Shut up,” Nathan groans, pushing himself up. He blinks a couple times, rolling his shoulders and wincing. “Where are we?”

Sam tries to bury his worry with wit and sarcasm. “Uh, did you smash your brain in?” And Sam tries to subtly check Nathan’s head for any sign of that. “Remember? The crash? Shoreline? Libertalia?”

This seems to strike a chord. “Ah. Yeah. Right. That place.” He sighs but makes no move to stand up. “I was looking for you, and then I… fell.”

“Fell?” Sam looks up, but the cove is mostly covered. “Fell from where?”

Nathan points up at a hole in the natural ceiling. “Cliff. Up through there.”

“Jesus, Nathan.” Sam curses. “You're lucky you're not dead.”

“Oh, yeah, lucky me,” Nathan groans. “Death would’ve been the kinder mercy.”

“Any chance you found Libertalia before you swan dived off a cliff?”

Nathan’s unamused expression tells Sam everything he needs to know.

“Okay, fine. No Libertalia. Yet. Are you…? Can you walk?”

“I think so?” It’s a question, not a statement.

“Well, let’s try, huh?” Sam tries to keep upbeat, because Nathan kind of looks like shit. The odds of him being out of commission are decent.

“Yeah, okay.”

Sam takes hold of Nathan’s left arm, but even touching it makes Nathan yelp. He drops the arm like it’s broken glass that is also on fire and covered in acid.

“What? Is it broken?”

Nathan grabs his shoulder, cringing in pain. “Uh, I don’t… I don’t think so.”

“Well then what? Broken ribs? Did you get stabbed or something?”

Nathan shakes his head, carefully pulling his shirt collar down past his shoulder. The drenched henley is happy to accommodate. “Oh. Um. Yikes.”

And “oh, um, yikes” is right. Because Nathan’s left shoulder is lower than the right, an unnatural bump under his skin.

“You idiot. You dislocated it.”

“Damn, sorry. I’ll get your permission next time,” Nathan spits.

Sam doesn't have the energy to argue. He just sighs and yanks Nathan’s shoulder back into place.

“Shit!” Nathan screams. He grabs his shoulder protectively and mutters more curses under his breath. “Warn a guy,” he hisses.

“I needed you relaxed. You always tense up when you dislocate something.”

“Dude, that was one time.”

“And you tensed up, and I couldn't get your arm back in, so who's fault is that?”

Nathan sighs. Mutters a few choice swear words. 

“Gonna live?” Sam watches his brother carefully. He’s still pale.

But Nathan nods. “It’ll hurt like hell for a while, but I’ll make it. Help me up.”

So Sam grabs Nathan’s right arm and pulls him up. Nathan brushes the sand from his clothes and uses his belt to sling his arm. “C’mon,” Nathan says, heading inland. “Time to find a lost pirate civilization.”

[dzknik]

alex and jonny give me an easy episode to draw challenge (impossible)

[chalkrub]

KOFI

commissions: here!

membership: here!

more in-depth explanation above lol but yes, opening up my kofi for the above stuff! i'll still be posting art to my socials as usual, but there'll be more consistent/exclusive/early-access art and wip posts for members on kofi, along with all the benefits above

thank you very much for any support as always! muah

[egophiliac]

still absolutely losing my mind over Lilia

[lunacias]

these are the silt verses, and I name our disciples thus

[titsthedamnseason]

oh this is terrifying

[notquitebuckybarnes]

Open Roleplay Starter

(TW: mental breakdown, vague bit of self-harm and small description of suicidal thoughts)

Bucky sat in a dirty alleyway, shadows swallowing his form so he wasn't to be seen. Something that he wanted right now. No, he needed it. If nobody saw him — noticed him in general — then he couldn't do more damage at least. God, he wasn't even sure in which country he was right now. What he knew through was that his head hurt like someone had tried to split it open from the inside. He knew what that meant and feeled like he would vomit yet nothing came out. He lifted his right hand, fingers burying itself in his scalp. It had happened again. HYDRA. The trigger words. It didn't matter what Bucky did. He always hurt someone. Over and over again.

He squeezed his eyes shut, tears escaping nonethelessly at the side of his face and dropped to the ground. He had brought Viktor Malric Finn and Callum and even another variant of himself that also had the trigger words. His titanium hand fisted the fabric of his dark combat pants. Viktor had given it to him so he would be 'proper equipped'. Yet another thing on the repeating list. How often would such things happen, would someone use this goddamn words? What if next time he wouldn't ''only'' abduct and imprison minors and variants, but kill again?

... Perhaps Steve had been good to leave. Perhaps it would be better for everyone if Bucky would just rot in some high security cell of some government. Or just would end it all together.

He couldn't hurt anyone then anymore. Not as the Winter Soldier, not as Bucky and not intentional or unintentionally. Never again.

Yeah, that sounded like a responsible idea.

((@ireallyliketacosokay and at everyone who wants or thinks about to join: Just do it!))

[despazito]

Тувинская овчарка (Tuvinskaya Ovcharka/Tuvan Shepherd)

The Tuvan Shepherd is a very old native dog from the Tuva region of Siberia bordering Mongolia. They are an endangered breed that declined during industrialization but is currently being revived and shown by conservation breeders. The dogs come in heavier and leaner types for different work, the Tuvan is noted as an excellent watchdog or hunting dog that is extremely cold tolerant.

[neptunym]

old gabv1el doodle im never doing anything with.

[lovesickeros]

☆ glimpse of divinity

{☆} characters lyney, neuvillette [ separate ] {☆} notes cult au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 0.8k

× neuvillette

The first time he sees you strolling the streets of Fontaine with a glint of wonder in your eyes, he thinks he must have finally lost it. He has to rub his eyes and check a few dozen times before he's certain that you are, in fact, real and not some figment of his imagination conjured by a lack of sleep and overdose on caffeine.

..Though now that he gets a better look, it's not quite the same. Like a smudged painting, he thinks. Still, the uncanny resemblance to the visage of the Divine One has him lingering around the area just to stare a little longer, a deep, devoted sense of affection bristling beneath his skin.

And then you turn sharply on your heel, staring directly back at him, and he feels a sudden wave of embarrassment and something akin to shame.

Archons, he'd just made a fool of himself, hadn't he?

He quickly turns away, clearing his throat and hiding his embarrassment behind his hand. Though it does not seem to deter you, the soft tap of your shoes growing closer until you were peering up at him with wide eyes.

"..Hello." He offers awkwardly, a little too stiff and a little too formal, but you don't seem to mind in the slightest. He knows that your appearance, your vague similarities to the Divine One are mere coincidence, but it does not stop his heart from skipping a beat when you smile up at him. "I– apologize for being so uncouth and staring, it's just.."

His voice trails off into a breathy exhale, his hand twitching on his cane as if he wanted to reach out and touch you..but he restrains himself in time. He could not make a bigger fool of himself – he would never hear the end of it from lady Furina.

"You remind me of someone."

He decides, readjusting his hands on his cane as he bows his head for a moment is a show of genuineness, though it must look awkward with how stiff his body feels.

Yet he cannot help but want to get closer anyway, to hear the silky lilt of your voice grace his pointed ears. This is as close as he will ever get to the Divine..he is a weak man, he finds, as he offers a hand to you.

"I understand if this is a bit..forward, but would you mind joining me for tea?"

× lyney

He is a master magician – his entire work is built on keen misdirection and sleight of hand, but even he stumbles for a minute thinking he'd seen an illusion in your warm smile and striking features. Almost an exact copy of the Divine One, yet not quite..

Still, it's enough to pique his interest – enough, too, to give him the confidence to slip into your conversation with ease, all smiles and the slip of a card between his fingers.

"Hello, stranger – I don't think I've seen you in Fontaine before," He laughs, his hand reaching around to rest gently on your opposite shoulder, his voice a ghost of a whisper in your ear. "Say, could I interest you in a bit of magic?"

He perks up at the way you seem to light up like fireworks at his offer, a spark almost like recognition in your eyes he brushes aside – he's quite well known, after all.

"Good! Now, if I may just borrow your attention for a minute.." He grins, stepping around you and turning sharply to face you, his hand outstretched with a deck of cards in his hands, face down. "Let's start simple, shall we? I shan't overwhelm my audience – pick a card."

He holds the cards out again, his features twisted in something like awe, though he hides it well.

His heart flutters at the briefest of glances of your hand against his as you pluck a card from his hand, and he quickly retracts it, reshuffling the deck with a broad grin and a wink.

"Do your best to remember it! If you could return it to the deck.." The card is placed back in it's place amongst the rest, and the magic begins!

"Now then, let's see..hm," He hums for a long moment, the silence filled by the constant shuffle of cards until he suddenly plucks one from the deck, flipping it around for you to see. "Is this your card?"

He frowns when you shake your head, almost pouting, before he lights up again and steps forward.

"Ah! How foolish of me, I missed it..it's riiight here, see." He winks, reaching behind your ear..and pulls free a card from seemingly thin air. He flips it around for you to see again, and when you tell him it is, in fact, your card, he flips it around again.

And before you can see it, he's holding a rainbow rose between his fingers, his hand outstretched as he bows.

His eyes glint with a sort of wonder as he looks at your features, his smile widening a fraction.

"Well, dear stranger? Did you enjoy the show?"

[bluecapsicum]

I thought you'd appreciate seeing these clouds that I saw being shared online by people from far north of Sweden!! I'm honestly blown away by how they look like, have you ever drawn this kind?

[Image ID: Both pictures depict long, horizontal clouds that have a mother-of-pearl iridescence, painting them dozens of pastel colours bleeding into one another. /end ID]

Gorgeous pictures, thanks a lot for sharing them! The first one has been edited a little bit, but really, not even that much. These colours are incredible. The first one is by Adam Jacob, taken yesterday in Lycksele, Västerbotten, and I haven't found the source for the second one.

On the website for the Swedish national public television service, they have a page where they take submissions for nice weather pictures, and you can see a lot of these nacreous clouds there, including this first picture. Very cool fog bow picture by Susanne Samuelsson on the 27th.

I think the government name for these is something like nacreous polar stratospheric clouds. I cannot imagine how mind-blowing they must be in person. It's amazing how consistent the iridescence is.

I haven't drawn these exact clouds for Reports, but I do have this illustration from last year:

I also have these weirder ones:

But I do have a few reports of iridescent clouds, they're just not polar stratospheric clouds. Here's a few:

This one's for the iridescence fans. Thank you for giving me an opportunity to brag about my iridescence paintings.

[gammija]

there's something with these separation of selves and identity, 'kill your double' themes, and the fact that all the employees are still working for the OIAR despite being able to quit, and cognitive dissonance, makes me think to a lesser extent of Severance, what makes a person a person, you and your worksona, and the way tma fanon often describes The Archivist as a different entity from Jon, with its own impulses and needs, even though he IS him

anyways so Gertrude severed her worksona, The Archivist, from herself and left her to rot beneath the floorboards of her office after the fire where the lack of a real non-Archivist half of their personality collapsed them into an [ERROR]

[divorcedfiddleford]

happy fiddleford friday it's still friday here it counts shut up. (images described in alt text)

[herogoose]

Heartskipping Halloween (Sean Diaz x F!Reader)

“Hey Diaz, wake up!” Lyla’s voice muffled through his window, and her shouts were followed by many loud knocks on the glass. “You better be at the door like, yesterday!”

Sean’s eyes opened against his will, and he saw his friend’s silhouette walk away from the window, towards the front door. He grumbled, rubbing his palms over his eyes as sleep fought to take over again. It was about to win, up until the front door was brutally attacked by Lyla’s knuckles.

He reluctantly rolled out of bed, pillow in hand, not bothering to cover up the blue seagull-patterned boxers before he let her inside. Daniel was sitting in the living room, a soda on the coffee table in front of him. He was talking loudly into the headset. As usual.

Some music was faintly drifting in from the garage door, so Dad must have been working on his new client’s truck.

Sean opened the front door, chucking his pillow at Lyla’s head with a grin. “Tú es una perra.” She caught it and gripped it tight.

“Uh-huh. Morning sunshine,” she grinned and got ready to throw it back in Sean’s face. “You ready to-”

“Lyla!” Daniel jumped off the couch and all but pushed Sean out of the way.

“What’s up little bro?” She raised a fist, and Daniel reciprocated the motion, ending the bump with a dramatic explosion.

“I was just playing Minecraft with Noah. We’ve been building this huge castle, wanna see?” His eyes gleamed with excitement to show off to her.

“Wish I could, but I gotta get your brother ready. Maybe later, if we’ve got time?” She always made time for Daniel. More than he did, but he already lived with the kid. He got more than enough Daniel time.

Frankly, Sean thought he had too much Daniel time.

“Aw man… okay.” He trudged back to his spot on the couch, returning all his attention to the screen.

“And just like that, Lyla loses 10 cool points.” Sean remarked, earning a thump on the back of the head. They headed toward his room so they could get ready for… uh. What was Lyla here for?

“Not likely. You know I’ll always be his favorite.” She threw his pillow across the room and it landed haphazardly on the sheets. Lyla took a seat at the desk while Sean retreated back to his bed, fighting every urge to lay down and sleep again.

She put her hands on her knees, leaning towards him with excitement. “So, you got everything?”

“Uh, yeah. For sure.” His bluff did not land on Lyla. Her face dropped, the usual unimpressed stare landing on her eyes.

“You have no idea what I’m talking about.”

Sean sunk back in his seat, drumming on his thighs. “Yeah… I’m not even going to pretend like I do.”

“The party, Diaz! It’s Halloween, remember?” Lyla jumped up, pushing his shoulder. She turned around to open his closet, seeing the mess of clothes strewn inside.

“Oh yeah, right.” He smirked. Maybe it was the fact he just woke up, but he just wasn’t all that excited.

Usually, he loved Halloween. Maybe it was Dad’s extreme love for the holiday rubbing off on him, or Daniel’s childlike wonder when it came to any holiday that involved candy or gifts.

But this year, he just wanted to stay home. Maybe put on a movie when Daniel and Dad got back from trick-or-treating.

He just wasn’t in the spirit. “Do we have to go? I don’t know Lyla, I’m just not really feeling it tonight.”

She turned around as quick as a whip and dropped the assortment of t-shirts she was holding. “You’re kidding.”

Sean simply shrugged in response.

“Come on dude. You can’t bail on me day of. If I’m going, so are you. We’re supposed to match!” Lyla reached behind her, grabbing an off-white poet shirt with strings holding the neck together and waving it in front of her.

He sighed, pushing off the bed. “I know, sorry. I’m just-”

“ ‘You’re just’ going with me and that’s that. You try to do this for almost every party, and I’m not letting you start this early. We. Are. Going.” She paused momentarily, wiggling her eyebrows and biting her lip. “And you know that Halloween equals girls in slutty costumes.” Sean rolled his eyes. She knew him better than that. “There’s just so many people, everyone’s wasted…” He trailed off. Lyla’s face turned stern, and she threw an assortment of clothes at his head for him to catch.

______________

The next thing he knew, he was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, adjusting the black fabric over his right eye. His gaze turned downward, and he looked at his costume for about the fifteenth time.

“God damn it Lyla,” he mumbled under his breath. The poet’s shirt hung low on his thinner frame, whereas the blue-gray vest sat uncomfortably tight around his shoulders. The brown breeches were baggy, trying to ignore his belt and obey gravity.

He looked at the cheap knee-high boots that sat by the tub. Hell. No. Sean grabbed the pirate hat from the counter and centered it on his head. He reluctantly opened the bathroom door and headed into his bedroom where Lyla had gotten dressed.

She donned a red bandana that hung much lower than her short hair. Her own white shirt was mostly hidden beneath a black corset, with gray and black striped leggings tucked into her own boots. A tacky Jolly Roger flag was folded and pinned into the belt that hugged her waist, giving her a long half-skirt on the right side of her body.

“Argh.” He lazily curled a finger, grinning when he saw Lyla’s own smile.

“Lookin’ good Captain Diaz. Now where the hell are your shoes.” she asked bluntly. He felt bad, as she sounded somewhat disappointed. However, she’d convinced him to even get in the costume and attend this party, so he was going to stick his ground for this one thing.

He lazily motioned toward the bathroom. “No way in hell I’m wearing those. This is fine.”

“Ay, where is your sense of immersion, matey?” She nudged him in his side, a goofy grin plastered on her face. “These seas need a fully dressed duo before we set sail!”

“This Captain has some self-respect left. I think my crew will forgive me.” He joked, while still laying the law.

“Your first mate might be annoyed,” Lyla grumbled, crossing her arms. Sean heard Daniel’s bedroom door open, and his small silhouette appeared in the doorway, arms behind his back.

Sean felt his anger rise almost instantly. “Daniel! How many times do I have to tell-”

His little brother couldn’t hide his huge smile. Daniel smiled wide, practically from ear to ear. He took a deep breath before cutting Sean off. “Avast, Captain! Before the ship departs the bay, your swabbies wanted to leave you with a gift.”

He unfolded his arms from behind his back, one foam cutlass in each hand. One’s handle had been hastily painted black, and the other was a messy marine blue. Daniel stepped into Sean’s room, delicately handing the blue-handled sword to Lyla, the black one to Sean.

“Shit, thanks enano,” Sean wrapped Daniel into a side hug, taking the toy sword out of his hand and examining it.

Sure, having a kid’s toy tucked into his belt loop all night will be pretty embarrassing. But, it was pretty sweet that he had painted these just for him and Lyla. He appreciated it a lot, though he’d die before admitting that to his face.

Lyla all but ripped the sword out of Daniel’s hand, an enormous grin across her face. “Yes! Thank you Daniel!” She immediately sheathed it into the left side of her belt, her outfit finally complete. She posed with her hands on her hips, chest puffed out and chin high.

Sean fit the toy into his belt loop, the same side as Lyla’s. “My first mate, ye be lookin’ great. Thank you, laddy.” Sean joked, slapping a hand on Daniel’s shoulder.

Daniel smiled before awkwardly stepping out the door and back into his own room.

“So, please tell me he’s convinced you to finish off your own outfit.” Lyla started.

Sean smirked evilly. “Nope.” 

______________

“Half cabs.” Lyla groaned, standing outside of the party house. “We’re pirates, and you’re wearing fucking half cabs.”

“And I will be so much more comfortable than you in an hour, with that cheap fake leather shit you’re wearing,” Sean remarked.

Lyla grumbled but gave up the fight. They walked up to the front door, people in various costumes scattered around the front lawn. Sean noticed two guys wearing some half-assed skull makeup practically blacked out already, lying on their backs in the grass.

Not even an hour into the party and some people couldn’t even enjoy the rest of it. Sean enjoyed feeling buzzed of course, but sometimes people got a little obnoxious with their drinking habits. It was a bit much.

They managed to get through the door with little issue, the house crammed wall to wall with people fully decked out in makeup and costumes. Sean felt a little claustrophobic, but he was sure that a beer or two would help him not notice the amount of people anymore.

He and Lyla met up with her friends to talk and drink. They’d all danced around a few times, Sean less than the girls. He’d gone to grab another drink from the extremely crowded kitchen.

A small shadow moved towards him that he ignored, but a soft voice spoke in his direction, piquing his interest.

“Nice boots there, captain,” a girl spoke, long plastic vines and white glitter twisted in the tight waves her hair held, likely from being in braids.

“What? Oh, I uh- lost them overboard. Had to find replacements,” Sean was taken aback by her, stuttering over his words. She wore a short, puffy lavender dress, and white fairy wings were strung around her shoulders. Glitter adorned her arms and legs, and she had on white Converse with a floral pattern.

He was pretty sure she saw him give her a good look over, since he noticed her eyes flick to the ground and grin. “I guess the water gets pretty rough, huh?” she asked, Sean handing her a beer and picking up one of his own.

Sean exhaled through his nose, shaking his head with a smile. “Yeah, it’s a dangerous life on the sea.” he said, glancing at the girl again. He felt so stupid. He was barely able to hold eye contact or speak without tripping up his words.

He was never one to have much game in the first place, but god damn, why did this stranger have such a huge effect on him? His heart felt like it was stuck in his stomach. He lifted the can to his lips, taking a long swig to mute his brain.

“Well that’s a shame. I was hoping maybe you’d offer to take me on your ship.” she took the tiniest step forward, her arms held behind her back. Sean’s uncovered eye shot wide open, some of his beer spitting across the room and some going down his trachea.

He started coughing nonstop, this random girl immediately asking whether or not he was okay as he fought for some air. Within a few seconds he’d recovered, looking back into her eyes and smiling sheepishly.

“God, are you okay now?” she asked, her hands outstretched towards him. One simple move and he’d know how soft they’d be in his own. How delicate they felt against his calloused palms. He had to shake the thought from his head, literally, before answering.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. I was just uh, caught off guard. Sorry.” Sean’s felt his face heat up. The urge to drop dead and wish the last 30 seconds hadn’t just happened was stronger than ever before.

She smiled, so gentle and sweet. “No, I’m sorry. That was…” she drifted off, her cheeks dusting pink. Her eyes conveyed so much of who she was, what she was feeling.

“Do you want to go outside?” Sean blurted out, sick of having to shout their conversation over the dozens of people and loud music surrounding them. He waited for her reaction, nerves flowing all throughout his body and settling in his stomach.

“Yeah, I do actually.”

______________

Sean leaned his back against the porch, breathing in the cool air. He flipped up his eyepatch, reveling in the feeling of using both his eyes again. He looked over at her, leaning over the railing and looking up at the night sky surrounding them.

His heart nearly exploded out of his chest as he guided the girl through the party and out the back door. Mainly because she decided to hold onto his wrist so she didn’t lose him in the crowd. Sean was pushing through people, trying his best to apologize while his neurons short-circuited.

He had a revelation while standing beside her in this silence, though. What the hell was her name? He pursed his lips, wondering if it was too late to ask now. Did she even know who he was?

Sean cleared his throat, turning so only one arm rested on the porch and he could look at her delicate features closer. She really did look like a fairy, as her costume suggested.

“I realize it’s kinda late for introductions,” he started and she turned to meet his eyes. “but uh, I don’t think we even really introduced ourselves.”

She huffed a laugh through her nose, a dimple forming on her cheek. “Right. I’m Y/n.” God, even her name was beautiful. And the way she looked in the moonlight, staring up at him. Fuck.

“That’s really pretty,” he said, causing her to smile shyly, averting his gaze momentarily. He nodded his head once before speaking again. “Sean.”

“Well Sean, it’s nice to formally meet you,” she stuck her hand out towards him. He was all too quick to push away from the railing, clasping his hand around hers. Her skin was so soft, so plush.

She shook his hand, then somewhat reluctantly pulled her hand back, returning to the railing and leaning over it once more.

Sean tried so hard not to make it obvious that he was looking over at her. He just really loved the way the moonlight reflected in her eyes. And how relaxed her face looked, like she was actually comfortable being out here with someone she didn’t know.

The silence they were in was comfortable as well, he didn’t feel like he needed to fill the air with awkward small talk that no one enjoyed. He was just a little stunned–more like very stunned–at how this beautiful girl came up to talk to him, and somehow he had the balls to actually get her alone so he could talk to her.

The only downside was how badly his heart was racing. How his stomach felt like it was in knots. How much his hands were trembling. God, why was it so bad this time? Sean had been interested in plenty of girls before this, but his body reacted as if it was the first time.

“You’re not too big on parties, are you?” she asked, her tone sounding more like a statement than a question. He met her eyes briefly, then turned around so he could look at the lawn.

“You got me there. There’s just a lot of people… I really only come because my friend wants me to.” He then remembered Lyla in the living room, in which he’d told her he’d be back in just a couple minutes… fifteen minutes ago. Shit.

“Yeah, I get that. I feel the same way sometimes. But I think it’s sweet that you come along for them, even if you don’t necessarily want to.” Her dimples showed, in what felt like was just for him.

Sean plucked at a splinter in the wood, trying to free it from the railing. “I guess so,” he paused for a few moments, shakingly conjuring some sort of conversation topic in his mind. “So, do you go to our school? I’d remember your face if I’d seen it before.”

She blushed, a sight that he was coming to love all too much. “Sean… no. I don’t. But I have been thinking about transferring; one of my friends goes there, and I kind of like, really hate my teachers.”

“Well, uh, I think transferring is a good idea,” he scratched the back of his neck. He waited a moment before looking back into her eyes, only to see a downturned smile splayed on her lips. “...What?”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you might like me there, Sean.” she stood up straight, taking a step towards him with her hands behind her back, just like before. His breath hitched, his heart dropping.

His legs froze completely, wanting to take that instinctive step back but unable to. “Wh- uh, I mean, well-” Sean didn’t know what to say. He felt as if he’d been caught red-handed, doing something he wasn’t meant to.

She smirked, chuckling slightly. “Relax. I’m just giving you a hard time. I… well shit. I think you’re pretty cute.” Her demeanor shifted, blushing once more and turning her head away from him.

Sean bit his lip and took a deep breath. It was now or never, and he wasn’t just going to lose an opportunity to get to know her. He leaned to the side, getting within her line of vision.

“Do you want to get out of here? I- I mean like, get food, or something.” He smiled a little awkwardly. His heart was racing in his chest.

She turned her head, smiling that sweet smile at him. She didn’t say anything, but she nodded her head. Sean held out his trembling hand, and her fingers were intertwined with his just a second later.

They pushed their way back inside, Sean trying to find Lyla. He dragged his little fairy through the dozens of people crowding the hallway, trying to remember the path back to the living room.

He saw Lyla’s red bandana reflecting the multicolored lights and waved his arm to get her attention. She didn’t notice him at first, too busy downing another beer and dancing with her friends.

Her dazed eyes finally caught wind of him, so he finally pointed toward the front door to let her know he was leaving. As he walked away, Lyla saw the girl being dragged behind Sean, and she grinned all too knowing.

______________

As if Sean couldn’t have faced enough embarrassment tonight, the young bouncer–no more than a year older than himself–stopped them both as they exited the front door.

He was convinced Sean had ill intentions, though neither of them looked wasted enough to deserve questioning. The bouncer and Sean got into a near-screaming match before Y/n had to step in, swearing up and down that she was mostly sober and the two of them were leaving to get something to eat.

Sean had to drag a palm down his face, dying internally as she was practically begging him to let the two of them just leave. He eventually conceded, letting them off the property with no other issues.

They walked down a couple of blocks to a little diner on a street corner, swinging their interlaced hands the whole way. His heart was thrumming with… something. Adrenaline? Nerves? Excitement, maybe admiration? He wasn’t quite sure.

The two of them sat in a small booth, the retro navy and white interior giving a comfortable atmosphere for their late dinner… date? The overhead lights brought a low, warm tint to the diner, with purple LEDs lining the ceiling, embellishing her costume and softening her features even more than they already were.

“Alright,” she started, placing her elbows on the tabletop and resting her chin on the back of her hands, “now I get to interrogate you. What are your most vital hobbies?”

Sean smiled, lightly drumming on his thighs. “Well, I skate. Not as often as I’d like. I’m almost always listening to music, I draw, and sometimes-”

It was impossible to miss her eyes lighting up, then cutting him off. “You draw? So you’re like, really good?”

He chuckled, examining all her features. “I guess. But it’s all pretty subjective.”

She leaned in just a touch. “Can I see any of them? It’s fine if you don’t want to share, I get it.”

Sean smiled at her eagerness. God, she really did have such a beautiful smile. If he wanted to, he could lean over and know what her lips tasted like against his own. Maybe that would be too soon. He couldn’t risk fucking this up.

“I left my sketchbook back at home. But, uh…” he began fidgeting around himself, feeling in his pockets for his pen. He pulled it out, reaching over to grab a napkin from the dispenser and flattening it out on the table.

Sean’s eyes scanned their surroundings for the perfect picture. He was about to get the side profile of a lone man sitting a few tables away from them, when he realized this would be the perfect opportunity to just draw her. Though, his sketchbook was probably going to be full of sketches of her later.

He was pretty positive she didn’t need impressing after her confession on the back porch earlier, but this was a damn good excuse to put this perfect image of her out for her to see.

He drew her exactly as she was already sitting, her arms nicely crossed under her chin. She’d look him directly in the eyes every time he’d look over her, causing his heart to strain while he’d go back to carefully dragging the pen along the cheap napkin. Her cute, wide eyes that looked right through all he was, reflecting everything she saw back out to the world.

Sean was finished a few moments later, the picture small no thanks to the limited canvas. He unhid the view of the napkin from her perspective, sliding the paper over to her side of the table. She eagerly picked it up, bringing it close to her eyes to examine.

“My God Sean… this is-” her mouth sat ajar as she examined it, her eyes flicking over every small detail he was sure to add.

“Not the best?” He laughed. He was used to people looking at his drawings constantly, but it was as if this was the first time it ever mattered that someone truly saw his art. He felt a little nervous as she looked over it so closely.

“Shut up. This is so fucking good! It looks just like me!” she exclaimed, virtually jumping in her seat. Next thing Sean knew, she was running out of the bench, rounding the table to sit on his bench and squeeze the ever-loving God out of him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I’ve never had someone draw me before.”

“It’s no- ack- problem,” he forced out, his voice strained from her arms crushing his torso. She stood, returning to her side of the table with a huge grin on her face, which of course only brought a smile to his.

He fidgeted with his hands under the table as they spoke, learning about each other as the night slowly passed them by. It was around one in the morning when he paid their check and they walked out of the diner the same way they went in, hand in hand.

She stopped them only a few steps away from the door, looking deep into his eyes and smirking. “Well, it would definitely be a tragedy to part ways tonight without you asking for my number.”

“Yeah, uh,” he dropped her hand, patting around his pockets for wherever he dropped his phone. He slid it out, hand shaking like crazy. “I like, really want your number.” Could he have sounded more stupid?

She took it from his hand, typing in her name with a <3 beside it. Sean bit his lip, trying to force down the grin that pulled the corners of his mouth up. “Now, I can only hope I’ll hear from you soon.” she said, handing his phone back and holding such hard eye contact he felt like he was going to snap.

“ ‘Course you will,” his stomach felt like it was doing cartwheels, his heart clenching as tight as possible in his chest. He scratched the back of his neck, trying to form a way to ask this without sounding like a complete idiot. “Y/n, I uh, I really want to uhm, can I-”

“Yup.” she slithered her hands to his jaw, pulling him down to her level. As their lips locked–as he’d been craving to do since the moment she walked up to him–he wrapped an arm around her waist, the other hand holding the back of her neck.

And fuck, was she the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. Her lips were soft and plush with a hint of strawberries on them, perhaps from her worn-off lip gloss. Sean pulled her in closer, forcing her to rise even higher on her toes as he deepened the kiss.

It felt like fireworks were taking off in the distance, that they were the only two people in the world that mattered anymore. His heart rate felt like it was going a million miles a minute.

They slowly pulled away, catching their breath and fluttering their eyelids open. Sean huffed a short laugh out, completely in disbelief at this entire night.

“Now I can cross kissing a cute pirate off my bucket list,” she smiled as she joked, her cheeks flushed. She was so stunning.

“Ah, but I get to say I kissed the most beautiful fairy, so I think I win.” Sean held her hand as they returned to the house, her bumping his hip with hers as they walked.

[hexacasts]

i updated my normal pentafist design and also named her finallyyyyyy. WHEEEEEE also heres an important height comparison

[ana-snz]

LMFAOOOO????