HI!! Sorry this answer is so late and thank you so much for asking/for your kind words!

THIS particular brush is Rough Ink 2 from this brush pack by Hayley Rose :D It’s a small procreate brush pack, only about 3$ and it’s really good!

As for my color palettes!! UM!! I’ve tried so many times to explain my coloring process to people and it never really works out, but I usually pick the background color first and go from there when it comes to coloring!

So, on the color wheel I’ll usually try to go for hues that are near the background color…this usually means there’s a huge lack of contrast to my work, but i never really mind.

antilocaprine:

(Kiss Prompt List)

Once I thought about this prompt in context of @melonsharks’ Pirate!AU, I absolutely had to do it. This was supposed to end shortly after the kiss, with only a brief reference to what happens after, but then I wanted to write the cool climactic scene, and then I realized that the part after the kiss had taken up way more space than the part before the kiss. Ah well. Sometimes it’s like that.
(Also, a savvy reader may recognize elements of the climax from a Redwall book, though I’ll be danged if I can remember which one. I read all of them multiple times as a kid, so just trust me on this. It was a very cool scene.)

36: …to give up control.

Gordon comes to flat on his back, and he must have only been knocked silly for a moment, because particles of wood and dust are still falling through the new hole in the deck that he’s staring up at. Through the gap, he can see a section of the mast and the sails, tattered at one corner where a cannonball took out a rope and tore the edge loose, sending the cloth fluttering in the breeze.

Overhead, there are pounding footsteps and shouts, but Gordon can’t focus enough to think about that right now - he’s too busy trying to pull air into his deflated lungs. His hook scrapes the planking he’s laying on, but he hasn’t got enough strength yet to haul himself upright. He can’t catch his breath - why can’t he catch his breath?

“Great shot, Bubby!” Coomer bellows from somewhere on the deck above, and Gordon relaxes slightly. He hadn’t realized he was still tensed up, and that movement allows air into his shocked lungs in a painful, burning rush. He wheezes a few breaths in, then kicks his elbows back and manages to push himself up far enough to see that there’s a spar of wood punched through his right calf.

“Where’s the captain?” Tommy’s voice yells, sounding more distant than Coomer’s.

“He’s right - oh. Oh, dear.” Coomer’s voice gets closer, and then his head is silhouetted poking over the edge of the new hole in the deck. “Ah! Hello, Gordon!”

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