Day 10 of character conversations
Friends-acting-like-siblings core
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shark vs the universe

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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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@betterillusionist
Day 10 of character conversations
Friends-acting-like-siblings core
Day 9 of character conversations
Lukri won't come out from under his bed.
I've been reading Bloodbound and I'm really enjoying it so far and all the characters are so fun and enjoyable that I'm now drawing the cast in my own style and adding a little twist to them! Up until now I have drawn Ethan, Blaze and Electro! more coming up :D (I really enjoy details if you can't tell)
Day 8 of character conversations
Listen to the tree man.
Day 7 of character conversations
Lukri is trying his best. Blaze is not.
Day 6 of character conversations
Blaze is such a player :)
Day 5 of character conversations
Day 4 of character conversations
You get a last name when you become an adult... or something to that effect /j
I'm posting some incorrect quotes in the Shadowbound Book Club community. Here are the ones from the last three days:
Come and join :D
It's totally free and you get virtual cookies (book knowledge not required):
For fans of The Astria Trilogy and its universe!
LOOK AT MY FREAKING CHILDREN!!!
I am tired but somehow have found time to start an AO3!!!
Gradually reposting some stuff from Tumblr there plus assorted short scenes from writing exercises and prompts.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
ROLAND SILVERHEART
Info below \/ \/ \/
Somehow this guy had wiggled his way into my heart, even without voice lines.
Headcanons:
-older than most. Ancient even by the standards of magic.
- Known mostly as the Arena groundskeeper. But he does not partake in training wizards, unless they prove their worth with a blade.
- Rarely removes his helm.
- Sleeps most days away, attributing it to his ‘aged mind’
- Forgetful
- Often unaccounted for
- Homeless?? Found asleep in strange places throughout the city
- assorted past.
inspiration:
Count Roland, of la Chason De Roland, in the French epic of Charlemagne.
🤍❤️🩶
Check out my buddy’s writing with Roland, when you get the chance :3c
💬 0 🔁 2 ❤️ 6 · Not Quite Friends · _...-~-..._ ~-..._...-~ Headcanon context: Simeon Firemane - ex-spy from Dragonspyre who managed to
so uh tagging game
The last fictional character in your photo library, is the person you gonna sit next to in a 8 hour flight!
OHHH EMU?? Not bad
tags(sorry weh): @teto-teto505, @veilofpoe, @loftedlow, @arsonistic-carp-0-2, @pompomme4, @never-end1ng-m1sery, @mxnihil + OPEN TAGS
THANKS FOR THE TAG @stellaghost hehehehe
So let's see let's see...
Mizi...
Chat I may be cooked
@writersgonnawrite @sonichopper @hypnoasis19 @paper-bag-exploration-syndrome @writerxdelete55 @air-png
Oh I'm cooked.
Cookity cooked.
@anakasiatenggara @notcamtop @i-lovecandy0 @thecrossoverau @just-origami @leviathanverse @milkgodprofitable @inksans-and-broomie @jylek001 @funexoticbutters
I'm safe- I think?
@paper-bag-exploration-syndrome @lonely-gay-fool
am i safe…? idfk, its Elder Puppet, the only mischievous man, the foolish king from SMC’s story time. does this even count? i have no idea.
anygays,
@panfandomgoblin @ch3ckk0utsid3lmaao @serial-designation-j-offical @donniesgaptooth @static-errorcode
AYEEE MY HUSBAND!!!!!!
@gmvofficial @smallershrimpette @riseleon @embermclainapologist @mattpurplehoodie @chizburg3r
I'M CRINEEEE
Yknow what 2012 Leo isn't bad at all, he's chill 💪
@othellovr @jellyfishsketches @nacho-calamity-reblogs @ne0n-ys @neonismyfavg @doodlespaulas @therealwaffleking @cr1staloff1cial @turtlevariabilis @max-is-not-well @verymundanetoday + whoever else that wants to join 🤤
ITS AN HONOR!! Lemme see here...
UHHH, does it count? /Silly
But fr, if doesn't then I'll stick with lil tello
He's just angy >:[
@hotflatwaffle @autisticartistnauthor @itzlunacrystal @rottmnt-fallen-stars @fulltime-insomniac @korri-the-glowstick if you guys want too!
thanks for the tag!! (this is rottmnt-fallen-stars’ main blog)
looks like im kicking back w shadow!! i think we will sit in pleasant silence :)
uhh tagging @letsdeweythis @shineyfish @eyekaros @reagzloof @mixel-pixel @l0rd-0f-c0ws and anyone else who wants to play!!
Uhhhhhhhhhh
I am going to hear about Psychic Tales #1, it is Not Optional
I will tag @expiredgogurt @dragatine-draws @antpony and @chinchillasinunison
Honestly he'd be pretty chill and just sleep the whole time I've lucked out
I'm gonna tag @good-beans @bluehairedspidey @chinateacup @nite-puff @painedpen @chananderlandersalamander
Omg yay!!
Hmmmm
@thenuggieking @ecogirl2759
Ah wait, I reorganized my folders on my phone not too long ago, let me-
...
My plane's about to fucking crash 😭😭😭😭
I don't really know who else to tag, so... @shubingus @raynee-main @betterillusionist @edgy-senju
Ironically my gender bent self lol
And Elly and Ophila too I guess. Hello demon chair. We're flying to the frozen north!
@rizzblade @lyrianvyiel @monicole-art >:3
Happy new years guys :D
Someone wanted me to draw Simeon right before the year ended so here's my first post of the year I guess
Wake From the Living Nightmare
Duncan awakens with a gasp, jolting upright in an instant. It feels like there's something heavy sitting on his chest, even now that he is no longer lying down. The world tilts gradually. His arms waver, threatening to collapse beneath his own weight.
“Hey! Dunc!”
Duncan spins around and freezes, eyes wide and wild with alarm. Nolan. What is he doing in his house?!
No– NO!
Duncan scrambles back, away from the bright-yellow Conjurer approaching him. “No, stop! Don't– Ah...” He blinks. His voice... it's normal again. After days of uncontrollably phasing in and out of the monster...
He looks down at himself at last. His legs and arms are his. His robe is back again. No doubt his face has returned, too. With a sigh, Duncan slumps, his heart racing from the panic and sudden relief from the horrific nightmare that went on and on with no end in sight.
Still, he knows it isn't gone. The darkness still warp around his form in acknowledgment of his presence. In the dimness of his living room, he is the most comfortable.
“Hah...” he breathes.
Nolan blinks back, stunned by the sudden shifts in Duncan's mood. “Uh... yeah, right, um. You... okay?”
Duncan looks back at him with a similar expression. “I... don't know.”
Those three little words break whatever spell had briefly held the Conjurer in place. Suddenly Nolan jumps back into his old self, animated and annoyed at everything all the time. “What in the Spiral was that, then? Huh? Huh?! That black winged freak was your doing, wasn't it? You could have hurt someone! You're lucky I happened to be there to stop you from doing worse!” He puffs out his chest heroically. Duncan can't help but scowl first. Because of course Nolan is taking credit for something he likely didn't even do. Maybe he had been in the area at the same time and shouted vague orders from afar while he secured his escape.
But... he knows. And he is taking it surprisingly well.
Black winged freak.
That's right. That's what he has become.
“Thanks,” he can only reply. At least, whatever Nolan did or didn't do, he's glad he was stopped in the end.
Which means that the nightmare had been real. He really did become a hollow vessel searching for a purpose by taking it away from others. He let himself become so overloaded, he let that monster take control.
And yet, merely existing felt so nice. No worries. No pain. No thought. Nothing. Letting everything go was so easy.
It scares him.
He can't let it happen again.
And Nolan... what is he going to do with him?
Nolan folds his arms and taps his foot impatiently. “Well? You caused a mess; I think I deserve some answers.”
“Why would I tell you anything?” Duncan replies with a sharp glare. “You can hardly keep your mouth shut.”
“WHAT?! I'll have you know I am very good at keeping secrets!” Nolan enunciates. Duncan narrows his eyes skeptically in reply.
“I'm not leaving until you're okay,” Nolan adds. His pride melts away into that of genuine concern, something Duncan isn't used to seeing the pompous Conjurer express.
In the silence, static fills the air from outside as the lighting rods that line Triton Avenue spark with energy. He's impressed Nolan even bothered to drag him all the way home. He's impressed Nolan even knew where his house was to begin with. He doesn't remember ever giving him his address.
Finally, Nolan breaks the staring contest. “Man, I'm hungry. You got any snacks around?” He opts to wander off into the kitchen anyway without a reply. Duncan can hear him shuffling through the empty cabinets. He's going to be very disappointed in what he finds, or lack thereof.
“Wha– Why is everything empty?!”
Duncan lets out a long sigh. It's going to be a long day for sure.
Pawn
Nolan is patrolling his territory in Festival Park one fateful day. The fateful day. He's seeking shelter from the afternoon light beneath the colorful roof that tops the elevated stage, never straying too far away from the edges of the planks of wood. His arms hang over his staff balanced across his shoulders as if he were a scarecrow. The street is peaceful once more thanks to his genius plan that the Wizard carried out dutifully. Now all he has to fill his days are... waiting for the time to come to pick up Professor Drake's laundry.
He stares out over the glittering lake with half-closed eyes. He doesn't even go to pick it up anymore. He sends a minion to do such a laborious task for him. No more aching arms and legs. No more berating for being a hair late.
It's...
Clatter!
Single brow raised, Nolan turns around. That's not a normal noise around here-
His breath catches in his throat. His stomach drops. And finally the chill hits him; sharp, clear, wrong. He's not sure what about the thing that makes him scared. It's slender onyx form bleeding into sapphire-tipped feet and feathers inspires soft elegance. The book held aloft in its arm teems with power that washes over the small, empty space that the locals call a 'park'. The winged mask is enamoring and the floating butterfly staff that waits at its side gently glows with ethereal light. Nolan has never seen a creature like this before!
And that's the issue. This thing is out of place, and what it's doing is even worse.
Small black pearls orbit around its head, forming some kind of void-like halo. Its free hand is extended to the one guard that stands on duty, overseeing the park. He has been brought to his knees, a long tendril of darkness rising from his hunched figure, collecting itself in the creature's awaiting palm.
Nolan rights himself instantly, swinging his staff down into his hands. He grips it tight as he takes up a heroic and defensive position at the rear of the stage, glowing blue orb of mana lifted between himself and whatever that thing over there is. He watches the string become yet another pearl that joins the orbit of the rest before the creature moves on, leaving the guard sitting as still as a statue on the ground behind it. It doesn't look like it's noticed Nolan yet-
The masked face snaps to Nolan just as he thinks it'll merely glide by. Slowly, it turns to face him.
“H-Hey!” Nolan barks, his arms stiffening as he feels his mana swirl inside his chest, “S-Stay back! Or else I'm g-going to-”
“Pawn,” it merely hisses at him as it raises its free arm. Its fingers float in the air so light and lofty, five black ribbons drifting with soft intent. Its will roots Nolan in place, the edges of his vision darkening as he watches... something begin to be drawn from his body. His stiffness slowly relaxes. His pounding heart calms. His resolve... steels itself in the dying light of day.
When next he returns to his senses, he feels something cold and spherical sliding down his throat. An air of measured justice holds its grip over him for a few seconds longer before he feels the cold rush of adrenaline wash back over him. Suddenly he feels short of breath as he tries to shake off the disorientation.
That... seraph thing is gone. The dirt is scorched from battle and a few of the tents have collapsed. But... no one looks hurt? Nolan aches a bit as though he just ran a mile straight. And-
And Duncan is passed out on the ground, face buried in the dirt and dust.
“D-Duncan?!” Nolan can't help but stammer, his voice cracking beneath the sheer amount of energy surging through his body. He crouches down and flips the Necromancer onto his back. He's breathing, shallow but sure. The remnants of black smoke rise from his face, some kind of mask dissolving into nothingness once exposed to the daylight. His face twitches, a nightmare running through his head.
Oh, oh, what do I do? What happened?!
He sucks in a breath as he hears the armor of the guard shift. He, too, appears to be reawakening from whatever spell the shadow thing put him under, shaking his head to clear the fog.
Nolan's gut twists in knots. He's not sure why, but he feels the need to hide the Necromancer from view. He promptly digs his arms under and around Duncan's own. Thank Raven for all that time he spent hauling Professor Drake's laundry! That, and Duncan is surprisingly light. It's not easy slinging the guy over his shoulder in the slightest but at least he can actually pick him up in the first place!
Duncan, through all of it, does not wake.
By the time the guard spins around to scan Festival Park, the black seraph has disappeared, leaving behind quite a mess in its wake. Oh, and Nolan is gone too. Probably off cowering in a hidden corner somewhere. He should be fine.
The Angelic Horror
The front door rattles but the lock holds firm. “Duncan? I know you can hear me!”
He can. He wishes he couldn't.
Duncan's still form shifts ever so slightly, reminding him of his current form. A monster. Curled up in the dark, his blank stare fixed on anything except the direction of the front door. Knowing who is out there. Knowing there's no way he can open it looking like this. And he has no idea how to turn back.
Gretta didn't even help him. She just dropped him off at home and left. At least in this form he doesn't feel the need to eat or even sleep for that matter. As if his body has become something other than human.
It has. He has.
“Duncan!” Malorn shouts again, more impatient and worried than before.
The wings curl around Duncan's slender body without prompting – or maybe he did and he hasn't realized it yet – to protect him from the pounding and the voice outside. His knees press into his mask, right where his mouth should be. Trying to disappear into a smaller space than he'll be able to fit into. The darkness around him feels to move with him, as if molding itself around his form to let him exist within it comfortably. He hates the feeling, that he belongs within it now.
How could he allow this to happen to himself?
If Malorn sees him now, he doesn't know what he'd do.
But at least Malistaire doesn't have to bear witness to this creature. Duncan doesn't think he would have been able to handle that.
“C'mon, Dunc,” Malorn pleads. “Just… tell me you're still okay in there.”
Duncan opens his 'mouth', but as soon as he feels the distorted air pass through it, he shuts it tight once more. He can't say anything. Not while he's like this. Never when he's like this.
Finally, he breaks eye contact with the single floorboard he's been quietly trained on. But if he does nothing, Malorn will call the guard. At least, Duncan is pretty sure that's what he'll do. He's too concerned about Duncan's well-being for his own good. He's not sure why Malorn is even trying at this point.
At last, he stands from his catatonic ball and approaches the lone bookshelf, reaching for a blank notebook. If he cannot speak or show himself, a letter is the least he can do.
I'm alive.
Alive. Yes. For now.
He expected to make more noise than he actually did, gliding across the cold ground to the front door, as if he himself were made of air. He slides the small scrap underneath the door.
On the other side, he hears the paper rustle as Malorn reach for it. Duncan can't help but place a hand on the door's surface, his slender onyx fingers drawing his attention away from the outside world but a brief moment. That is not his hand, nor his arm that this hand is attached to.
Now he is forever tied to this strange, secret organization. He thought he was ready to pay any price for answers, to follow in his Professor's footsteps, to achieve his dream. But this finally calls his own thoughts into question.
What is it he was chasing in the end? Is he even deserving of his own desires? Of even having desires to call his own? When all they've done so far is brought him nothing. Nothing but a lifetime of misery.
What if misery is what he deserves?
Malorn lets out a sigh. A short, hopeless sigh. “I… I won't bother you anymore then. You know when class is. It'd be… Come stop by if you can.”
Paper rustling, the darkness that now haunts Duncan's house listens to Malorn return the direction he had come from, dejected and alone.