#But for now this sketch will suffice

[zennx-23]

Tyson in Metalfight

I had a vision-

I did Gingka in OG. Was only a matter of time to draw Tyson in MF’s art style.

[todayisafridaynight]

ICHIBARBIE COMM for @ichibarbie on twitter :]]

Commission Info

[crescentfool]

i just want good things for them 🥺💗

[jamieedlund]

How to worship a god.

Bonus:

when your master has a distaste for love and you said it like a disease

Happy Valentine to those who are in love; whether it's romantic, platonic or just self-love, I hope you eat good and sleep well!💗

Oh extra saucy secret bonus because I have a bunch of ideas but no energy to do them all:

When you love a man but the inner machinations of his mine are an enigma. I think this is the perfect show case of despite their love being kind of different from one another, they sincerely care about each other (but in a more comedic light). Who knows maybe I'll actually render it one day cause it's a cute idea (ಥ _ ಥ)

[secondhello]

what kind of brush was used in the latest little squirrel art? also, i love jeffrey. what a little darling creature :]]

Hai haiii ^_^ the brush pack we use is here ! We cannot recall if we adjusted the brush in anyway… but we use artemus hard ! Apologies if it looks a bit different than ours haha,

And thank you for the kind compliment :-D Jeffrey is sorta our muse atm heheh

[archersgoon]

assassin son or spy daughter

[bestfoes]

I think literally no one knows about this oc other than Leslie but you gotta look at him anyway :D sketch under cut!!

[glittergummy]

My first transformers fusion! Feat. Diverge & Flatline - a gorgeous mech originally designed by @hexusproductions that make up:

Dyline

a handful in his own right, and this handsome boy is both co-owned by us both; hope you guys like him!

[anotherworldash]

[galactictarr]

haha! get gold stickered /lh

Omggg! for me??? 🥺👉👈

(Oh also, Hi!!!)

[entitled-fangirl]

A beautiful thing to picture, indeed.

Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Summary: Benedict finds himself speechless at the model in his art class. The two later meet, and he realizes maybe she's what he wants.

A/N: Give my man Benedict some LOVEEEE

Masterlist

..................................................................

Benedict sat down and readied his canvas for his art class to begin.

His new found friends leaned over leaned over as the Bridgerton sat down, "Teacher said we were studying dresses today."

"Dresses?" Benedict asked with his usual smirk. 

"Yeah. Said something about capturing the flow of 'em. Whatever that means."

"The flow of-" Benedict paused as the door opened and out walked a small figure.

A beautiful model in a thin silk dress. 

She scanned the room with nervous eyes. After all, the room was full of eager men who wished to picture her frame.

Benedict felt breath leave his lungs.

A beautiful thing to picture, indeed.

The teacher took the model's hand gently and led her to the middle of the room. "Alright, gentlemen," he called loudly. "Today we shall be focusing on the flow of fabric. Really pay attention to the detail. I want to feel like I can reach out and touch the fabric in your sketches."

The teacher then turned to the girl, "Miss Hemmings, are you ready?"

The girl scanned the room one more time in nervousness, before it set on Benedict. Her nervous eyes relaxed for just a moment before moving away from him to look at the other men. Her voice was meek and quiet, "Yes. I… I believe I am."

The man nodded, "Alright. Pick a direction to look, and I'll situate you from there."

She took a deep breath and scanned the room once more. Once her gaze settled on Benedict, as it had done before, she stopped. "I believe here should suffice?"

Benedict gave a smirk and couldn't look away. She was captivating.

The teacher then reached down, fluffed out her dress just barely, and stood. He turned to face his eager students, "Begin."

And there she was, under a spotlight in a room full of men who were now beginning to sketch her.

And she had to stay still.

Now that all eyes were on her, she decided looking towards Benedict was a bad idea.

He was to always be looking at her. He was sketching her, after all.

And the wall above him was too dark to be anything enjoyable to watch for the next few hours. But she did so. For the first hour anyway.

Eventually, she couldn't help but let her gaze fall to the Bridgerton. He was deep in focus now.

So much so, that he didn't feel her gaze until the third time he had glanced up at her.

He paused involuntarily at the eye contact. He felt the smallest of smiles graze his face.

Her cheeks heated to a violent shade of red. And she couldn't hide it.

She broke the eye contact, looking back up at the wall to avoid accidentally moving and messing up all the other sketches.

But every now and then, she would allow herself to take in the sight of the Bridgerton earnest at work.

A beautiful thing to picture, indeed.

…

The second the class was called to a close, Miss Hemmings completely disappeared.

It confused Benedict.

He had been comparing his finished portrait to her, and had looked up and she was gone.

No matter.

She's just a model. 

That's what he told himself, at least.

…

Benedict Bridgerton was making his way downtown, eager to purchase more charcoal for his sketching endeavors.

He hardly heard the sound that was coming from the nearby alleyway.

But he did.

He paused in his step and turned his head in its direction.

Sounded like a woman's voice.

He began to cautiously walk down said alleyway with a low voice, "Hello? Anyone there?"

He rounded the corner and stopped at the sight.

A woman was practically pinned against the wall by a man much bigger than her.

His hand was wandering down her dress and began to lift the hem of it.

Tears filled her eyes as she tried to push him away with quiet pleads.

"Hey!" Benedict yelled. "What are you doing?"

The man turned his head in his direction and scoffed, "This Miss was being tempting to the gentlemen that walk these streets. But when I tried to take the temptation…" he grabbed at her jaw and growled in her ear, "… She refuses me."

Benedict took a few more steps closer with his hands out, "Leave the lady be, sir."

The man moved away from the woman and the wall, now interested in Benedict, "And tell me, what will you do about it?"

Benedict took a breath and courageously stepped forward, "I'm Anthony Bridgerton, the Viscount you hear of so often. I suggest you step away from the woman and continue your day. Sir." He said through gritted teeth.

The man paused, "Bridgerton?"

Benedict nodded.

"Ah," the man feigned happiness. "Lord Bridgerton, of course. My apologies. I had no idea she was yours, my Lord."

"'Tis alright." Benedict said. "You may correct your mistake now."

The man nodded, "And so I shall. Good day, sir."

And with that, the man left.

Benedict watched him round the corner before immediately rushing to the woman, "Are you well?" He asked in a hushed tone.

The woman looked up.

Benedict let out a breath.

The model.

She looked down again to wipe the tears from her face, "Lord Bridgerton. I apologize. I… I did not… I didn't mean…"

Benedict felt himself smiling, "Please. Please calm yourself. It's alright. You owe me nothing."

She felt herself take a few steady breaths before she looked up again. Her eyes now focused on his and her face morphed into shock, "You?"

He actually let out a chuckle, "Me? Yes. I'm afraid so. Apparently, I just couldn't let you go, huh?"

She smiled and relaxed. "I suppose I truly owe you gratitude."

He shook his head, "No. Please."

"I do, my Lord." She insisted.

He looked off in thought and smiled. His gaze turned back to her, "Tell me your name."

She paused a moment at his request. "Y/N Hemmings, sir."

His smile grew as he took her hand and kissed the back of it. "A pleasure, truly. I'm afraid you have occupied all of my thoughts since the last time I saw you."

She smiled, "You're simply an artist who is immersed with his work, my Lord. That is all."

Benedict nodded, "Tell me what you were doing alone out here?"

She sighed, "I… I make runs here for the upper class who don't wish to be seen in such… slums. They pay me to do so."

He feels his jaw go slack just a bit, "You come to dangerous areas to make extra money?"

She nods, "I have a younger brother to take care of, my Lord. He is everything to me."

He shakes his head in disbelief, "You're a mysterious thing, aren't you?" 

She lets out a laugh, "Not as mysterious as you, sir. A Viscount taking artistic classes? Don't you have higher duties? I don't imagine they have time for such… fulfilling things?"

He offers his arm to her, "Then perhaps I may tell you something?"

She took his arm with a curious grin, "You may."

He leans down to her ear, "I am not the Viscount."

She tried to pull away in shock, but he held her arm tightly. "You are not Lord Anthony Bridgerton?"

He laughed out, "No. Heavens no."

She cautiously leaned in, "Who are you, then?"

He smiled, "I am Benedict Bridgerton, the second son residing in Aubrey Hall. I didn't completely lie to you. I am indeed a Bridgerton."

She stepped with him down the alleyway now, "I see. I suppose that makes more sense."

Benedict stops walking as they near the road, "May I be frank with you, Miss Hemmings?"

She tilted her head, "Yes, sir."

"You are the most fascinating creature I've ever seen."

She felt her cheeks grow warm, "Oh. I… what a most welcome compliment, Sir."

He smiles, "I do hope there is no man I must fight for the right to your hand."

She felt her mouth dry. "What?"

"Your hand," he smiled. "Do you have a suitor?"

"Me?" She gasped out. "Me? No. I don't… I've never had suitors."

He nods and smiles wider, "Then may I be the first, Miss Hemmings?"

She considers his words. A Bridgerton. A high ranking family with wealth and charm.

But more importantly, a most dashing artist as a potential husband.

"Only if I may see the sketch you designed of me all those days ago."

He lets out a laugh, "Oh, darling, nothing I sketch would be even close enough to capturing your beauty onto the paper. Even the greatest artist can do no such task. It is meant to be enjoyed in the moment."

She nodded in thought, "Then you must call me Y/N. And you must continue to sketch me until you get it right."

He tilts his head, "But I've just claimed it's impossible to do."

She smiled, "Then we have no excuse to not be near each other, it seems."

Benedict grinned brightly and leaned in, "I suppose you're right. But you have to call me by my own name."

She let out a breath, "I shall do so."

"Excellent. Most excellent." Benedict said as they walked out onto the busy street.

A wife of his own? Benedict thought. That's something he always pictured as a boy.

And as he looked down at her, he realized it was a most beautiful thing to picture, indeed.

..............................................................

[yanteetle]

Oki uh-

May I request a y/n being cuddly with Donnie as he works? For da fluff?

{And because for some reason my brain finds it a bit funny}

“Let’s stay a little longer like this. Just a little.”

Sorry for the long wait btw! I know this isn't exactly fitting the criteria, but I hope this will suffice for now! I needed to really push myself to complete this piece because of all the 'mini easter eggs' in it, but please know I won't be able to replicate this quality for future sketches! It is much too demanding, and would put a major strain on my workflow. I hope that is okay with you guys, and I apologize for any inconveniences caused from it! I had some fun with this, especially with the subtle references to my older Donnie art and whatnot :)) I'd be really excited if people got the subtle references, because I had fun including them when I came up with the concept for this sketch! Thanks for requesting, and please have a nice day!

taglist: @dynaspamm@faetaiity

[moonlight-clover]

A kinda more wholesome Larissa sketch page (if you ignore the blatant thirsting on the right oops) I have this super vivid memory of her having her hair down at some point in the series but after combing the internet I’m guessing I must’ve dreamt it! Very sad at that missed opportunity, but I guess a drawing will have to suffice for now 

[theladyofshalott1989]

Happy Birthday, Damien! <3 <3 <3

It's also nearly been a year since I joined Tumblr. In fact, this is Damien's first Tumblr birthday! 🎉🎉🎉

Damien is my favorite OC that's ever sprung practically fully formed (!) from my mind ("I'm your only OC, mum..." "That’s not true, and you know it.” “Well, I’m the only one that matters.” “Shush, the others might hear you!"). Suffice it to say, I don't think I will ever create a more unforgettable one ("That's right, I won't allow it." "I said shush!"). See what I mean? XD

Thank you to everyone who has grown to love Damien too. I would have never expected a year ago to find such a wonderful community that would accept him, the sassy but (mostly) sweet Sebastian lover that he is.

The quotes scattered over my sketches are some of my favorite lines of dialogue from my Like Moths to a Flame series, which is now nearing 300,000 words. Writing this series has consumed my life in the best possible way, and it continues to bring me joy, even over a year and a half later.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. An extra special cheers to my past, present, and future readers. I hope you know I may write for myself, but I also write for you, and I hope that my series touches you in some way, whatever, wherever, and whenever that may be.

Okay, I'm done yapping. Yes, Damien, I hear you. Happy birthday, you wonderful, maddening, dearest of OCs, you.

[cremedensada]

Mysterious muse yan for a frustrated artist reader. She came to you in a dream, right when you were in the height of your art block — near to tears and vowing to never look at another paper/hold your drawing tablet ever again.

Mysterious muse yan who looked so ethereal — hair as black as the midnight sky, eyes as sharp and golden as a curious feline, and lips so kissable and always quirked up like a ghost of a smile is permanently affixed on her face. You wake up after that with the biggest adrenaline rush, hands shaking as you began sketching the face appearing in your dreams.

Mysterious muse yan who always appears in your dreams lately. You almost expect her to. And in any way you want her to appear in.

Perhaps in a park, picnic spread out with the finest weather ever? There she is, smiling sweetly and offering a piece of cake for you. Dreading for an exam and wanting to ace it? She's tutoring you at the library, eyes twinkling with mirth as you get the answer correctly — perhaps a kiss as a reward would suffice.

Or, if it's a nonsensical dream (as always), she carves a space in it for her to appear in. A meeting with the family that ends with a roadtrip to a different galaxy? She's on the passenger seat, giving directions. Performing a song in front of a live audience as part of a project? She's your number one fan, obviously.

You fill a sketchbook (and a few pages in your other notebooks) of sketches of her — mostly of her face, always smiling so coyly, like she knows something you don't. It's like you were obsessed — though really, when you gain inspiration, that's kind of how it goes, no?

Alas, like any other source of inspiration, there comes a point where you drain it of all serotonin from making art of it. So naturally, you take a break... find something else to hold your inspiration, or just.... another art block, whatever.

Mysterious muse yan who... begins appearing in the corner of your eye. Glimpses of her — black hair, gold eyes and cherry red lips. Staring at you. You turn to check and see there's nothing there. It's bizarre.

Mysterious muse yan who slowly inches closer to you day by day. Slowly inching until she's at the center of your periphery. Like she exists. Like she's been there the entire time. Like she's part of the picture as she used to in your dreams.

You never mention it to anyone — fearing that they may think you're going crazy, hallucinating a character that they've seen you draw in paper. So you kept mum. Pretending that she isn't there. Even as she acts and talks — joins in on the conversation you have with your friends and family, with you being the only recipient of hearing her voice and her opinions. She cares not if they don't respond or talk over her, as if she knew herself they didn't know she existed.

Mysterious muse yan who looks at you — emotionless and cold, borderline insulted when you so much as turn away from her. Keep your eyes on her.

Don't look away. Is she not your muse? Is she not your inspiration? How dare you look away as if you did not sketch her likeness into reality dozens of times before. As if you did not create her, subconsciously longing enough to manifest her into being and now you're entertaining others and not her?

You are only comforted by the fact she exists only as a visual hallucination. Perhaps medicine will help... or a reminder that she's not real.

Mysterious muse yan and her sketched smiling face taped on your friend's face. You were looking away from her in favor of listening to said friend's ramblings.

A part of you feared lifting the sketched paper, refusing to know what lies on your friend's face and why the muse chose to stick the paper there in the first place. Or rather, refusing to know if the friend's face is still there at all.

Mysterious muse yan who only wants you to look at her. She's your muse, after all!

[pinksugarscrub]

Sun and Moon

Sea Witch! Hobie x mermaid! reader

Inspired by 🪦 anon after a discussion on @the-kr8tor 's blog. Thank you!

Part(s): Prologue/Chapter one, ???

Word count: 2,232

~

Bottles and vials clink together. It’s a sound you’ve come to love as you scribble in your notebook. Pearls coated in luminescent algae overhead so you can see your work. Held together by strings of silk or seaweed.

You sneak a glance at him. Watching as he mixes together a new concoction before quickly looking down and pretending to write when in all reality there’s an out of place squiggle on the page. You wait a few minutes before bringing your attention back to the man you love. A fishing net around his waist (a new addition) that holds together his black robe. Neck littered with random trinkets, shells, and pearls.

Sighing softly you rest your chin in your palm. The sketch of him long forgotten as you admire the real thing. This time you don’t shy away when he looks over his shoulder.

Hobie laughs softly, “caught you…” His eyes sparkling as he sets down his tools. Swimming over to your side he towers over you (quite easily I might add) as he reaches down. Gently, he rubs his thumb over your jaw. “What are you thinking about guppy? Me?”

Bubbles leave your lips as you laugh. Playfully pushing his hand away but it’s soon replaced by his own lips as he leans down. Peppering kisses to every inch of skin he can reach.

“Yes and-” You laugh louder as he changes to blowing raspberries against your neck. “-no! And if you don’t stop I won’t tell you anything!”

Hobie, of course, ignores this and wraps his tentacles around your waist. Bringing you closer until you’re effectively trapped. The only portion of you left uncovered are your fins. Flailing weakly against the water.

“I could just force it out of you my love,” he grins. The pearls in his hair shining under the dim light that managed to squeeze through a crack in the cave. You’ll never get tired of the way his eyes glow, even under the sunlight. Like gold rings of fire that you’ve seen on the mainland.

“You could,” you muse,“but are you going to?”

He stares.

You stare right back.

Then he clicks his tongue and loosens his grip but only enough to allow you to shift around to lay against him. The telltale sign being his hand placed over your naval.

You follow his motions without protest and eventually you both settle into the comfort of your bed full of kelp and sea sponge. His chin resting atop your head as he wraps his arms around your waist. Immediately tracing the outline of gold in your scales ever so gently.

“Alright, on with it. What did I do this time?”

Hobie relishes in your laugh. If he could, he would bottle up the sound and keep it tucked away for the days you’re away. He wishes he could finally convince you to stay but he wouldn’t think of ever getting in the way of your dream. For now, the daily visits would suffice.

“I was just thinking…about the day we met.”

“The day we met?” He repeats. Chuckling as he moves to bury his nose into the crook of your neck. “What about it lovie? Are you missing the days where my hair was longer?”

Your eyes glaze over the scar on your tail. The scales surrounding it are a bit discolored but iridescent nonetheless.

You reach for his hands wanting to seek the same feeling you felt all those months ago. Tending to you. Even the rings on his fingers are the same except for one on his left hand. The peridot matching the one around your neck. He glady intertwines your fingers.

“You did look quite rugged,” you tease.

His chest rumbles beneath your back. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

You inhale sharply.“Anyway-”

“No, no, we’re coming back to that.”

You shush him while petting one of his tentacles and he practically melts into jelly. Accepting defeat he moves another tentacle to caress your fin. You chuckle at the gesture. He might as well be a sea urchin.

“I was just wondering, what would have happened if you hadn’t found me.”

He pauses, taking his hand and lifting your chin so he can look into your eyes. “Why are you thinking about that?” You can practically feel him frowning. “Are you-”

“No,” you answer quickly. Smiling softly to reassure him. “I’m not. I feel safe with you.”

Hobie scans your face for any sign of a lie. Knowing how stubborn you can be when admitting to having nightmares again.

“I mean it love,” you laugh. Shaking your head as you poked his nose. “Don’t look so distressed. I’m referring to how much you’ve changed my life.”

He quirks a brow and you can’t help but laugh harder. Seems you have some convincing to do.

It’s not easy recalling some memories from the past but you can’t have light, without the darkness. Much like Hobie can’t be without his sun and you, can’t be without your moon.

Chapter one - Lost

Scavengers were the absolute bane of your existence. For weeks, weeks, you’ve been sourcing red seaweed. Rare red seaweed. Because greed and pollution seem to infect every corner of the sea now. It’s specifically ordered to be used as parchment for royal records and as the kingdom’s archivist it’s your duty to provide. You would lose your job in an instant if someone, anyone, found you unfit to continue guarding documents that are as old as the man who calls himself your superior.

You can’t lose the one chance you have to advance into a position you actually enjoy. So if it takes you another decade of stocking scrolls and collecting algae, so be it! But you can’t do that if you don’t figure out some way to get the remaining seaweed.

There isn’t much you can do except probe the regular patrons of the library for any leads. They seem to pity you with how their eyes follow you as you sift through maps that you already know like the back of your hand. You’re hoping a new path will magically appear on the page when you blink.

It’s hours before you finally stop and rest. You don’t think you’ve swam this much in months.

“A witch?” A voice whispers.

You sit up straighter on the bed of sponge you’re sitting on. Leaning over to see past the spiral staircase of stone. There’s a woman— scratch that—two women along with a small girl. The young mermaid sucking on her thumb as her eyes traced over the coral chandelier.

Witches weren’t…unheard of but it’s not like you believed in such stories. They were just tactics used to scare children into eating their clams and keeping them away from deeper water.

The stories claim witches have golden irises that can turn you into seafoam with just one glance. A voice so enchanting that they use it to lure sailors just as much as they would merfolk. The only positive thing you’ve heard over the years is their ability to heal but even that came at a price.

You sit back into your original position. Making bubble rings and watching them make their way to the surface.

The women are talking in hushed tones that you deem unnecessary with how vacant the library is. You close your eyes as you continue to listen in. Gossip is normally beneath you but you need a laugh after how long a day you had. Honestly, you’re only taking bits and pieces of information until you hear one word, apothecary. And it’s like it all clicks into place.

“An apothecary!” You laugh before promptly slapping your hand over your mouth.

How could you be so stupid? An apothecary! There were several of them strewn about. Most abandoned as the men and women who practiced lived inside the kingdom now. In the past however, they always grew their own stock to avoid having to pay merchants or hire a forager. If you can find just one, that should be enough to satisfy the king’s order. What’s even better is it’s entirely possible you’ll be able to regrow what was stolen. It’s the best solution you could have asked for.

By some miracle your ‘aha’ moment isn’t heard. Neither is the flick of your fins as you sneak past the trio. You really don’t want to try to justify your eavesdropping and you’re sure they don’t want to discuss the existence of something only known to be in folklore with a very skeptical scholar.

The water rushing by your ears blocks out the rest of their conversation. Only the statues bear witness about the abandoned apothecary the witch inhabits.

-

That night you gather a sickle, a ration pack, and a bag with plenty of room to stuff bundles of seaweed into. A map tucked into the outside pocket.

There were six apothecaries in total, all surrounding the castle at varying distances. There’s a chance the ones closest have already been raided so you decide to venture further out towards the ones in the south. You’re both excited and terrified to be venturing out on your own but maybe this will prove you are capable.

When the sun rises, you’re already out the door. Compass in hand as you swim around the castle gates.

You are in complete awe at everything you see. Tall stalks of coral the size of ships and fish so bright you have to stop and admire them. You try not to get too distracted but with the number of things you see you lose your way. Heading East, toward the dark sea.

After what feels like hours you arrive at the mouth of a cavern. So large it almost seems to come to life as the shadow cast from the sun moves low. Fish swimming in and out like it was sucking and spitting them out.

Flipping open the map you stare at pathways. Tilting your head to try to make sense of the markings. There is an obvious seal at the edge of the cave but the image is practically scratched off so you can’t identify it. Your compass, as it turns out, is left unusable as it spins in every direction. Obviously, this isn’t good news but did you really risk all of this just to return home empty handed?

You swallow thickly as you stare down into the cave. It can’t be…too far. Can it?

Circling the entrance you gnaw on your thumb. Turning away to face the already rising moon. You weren’t expecting to stay out all day but you have enough supplies to tide you over for the night. You’re not completely inexperienced.

A deep rumble echoes through the water and you pause. Eyes darting to the cave again and darkness stares right back but it dawns on you as you feel the current shift that it wasn’t coming from inside.

This was wrong. You shouldn’t be here.

The fish dart away to any available crevice along with the vibrant anemone that sink back into themselves. Another hum reaches your ears but you can’t bring yourself to look behind you.

Shaking you count to ten then twenty before a shadow is cast overhead. The sea is silent. Nothing moves, nothing breathes except…

A leviathan.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe.

You choke back a sob. It reeks of death. Jaws stained with blood, fresh blood as it dissipates into the sea.

Stories filter through your mind at a mile a minute. You were told about great adventurers. Of their bravery and cunning against giants like the leviathan but you feel neither brave or prepared.

For the first time you hear your heartbeat. You weren’t even aware that, that was possible. Maybe it was a form of mercy, feeling your lifeforce before it was stripped from you.

It’s waiting. You can see it. Its eyes have never left yours. Its pupils so dark it reminds you of the sky. Above the surface of what you call home.

You make the mistake of looking away and everything happens in an instant.

You scream and it bellows as it strikes. Hot rushes of pain erupt with every flick of its head as it tries to swallow you whole. Jagged rocks digging into your skin as your hands bleed from smashing against its teeth. Your fear only doubles as it takes you deeper into the cave you were so hesitant to even look at. You can’t see, just feel and hear the monster that’s in front of you.

You wish you hadn’t tried to fight back. You wish you were home. You wish it had killed you quicker.

You’re so disoriented that the flashes of light that spark into your vision you mistake for the sun. The heat of each bang doing nothing to aid the tears in your body.

The leviathan roars and with each smash of glass it shrinks back until eventually it flees. Thick tail hitting the walls of stone and breaking just the surface.

You hear sounds above the calamity, words that you can’t make out because you think it’s finally over. You can rest now.

Gentle hands run over your body as you lose consciousness. Holding onto you like you were as precious as a pearl. Rings of gold are the last thing you see.