Jcryptid - Welcome To The Dragon Wagon

Here’s some Fanart of Kendal for the Aurora Webcomic, took me 3 days to draw but i think it was worth it 

@comicaurora

Good writing tool, gonna make my personal whump writing challenge really fun

i made a whump wheel

want to beat up a character but don't know how you wanna do it? same here, friend. behold, the whump wheel! it currently has 60 different prompts/tropes on it and is ready for use! 🎉 i...love this thing. it is wonderful for writing exercises. (if you wanna know what's on it before using it, take a peak at the screenshot below)

This is unironically the best thing I’ve seen all pride month

happy pride and happy birthday, red @comicaurora! erin had some extra capes in his backpack…

Yay! I finally get to post this!

This is a thing I did for a friend of mine @lavendertoonz, for a secret santa OC drawing exchange between us and a bunch of our friends. Their OC is Isabelle, I don't know much about her but she is very pretty, her creator is an amazing human being and I had a lot of fun making this.

Words cannot express how much fun it was seeing what everyone came up with and the joy radiating from our receivers, very much hope to do this again next year and would absolutely reccomend doing it with your art friends if you can.

So anyways, Merry Christmas! Hope you liked Lav <3

You lost friend?

c̶̘̠̆̓̂͆͐̈́̈́ọ̵̡̙̺͈̰̰͔̦̩̼̈̄̊̑̓̇m̴̧̧̛̼̯͖̻̤͙̄͐ē̸͙̰͕̮̥̼̦̻̹͈̙̃͘͠ ̸͇͇̬̳̒ẉ̷̘̱̯̻̔͛̊̔̓͊̅̔̈͜ͅǐ̴͚͙̣̈́̇̉͆͘̕ͅẗ̷̙̜̪͖̟̲̭͖̻̩̦̀͋ḩ̸̹̹̜͇̩̿ ̷͉͍̺̔̀͛̄͑͑́̀͘̚͠m̸̡̠̭̝̒̓̈̊͝e̴̮̞͚͍͙̤̙̒̀̊̂̒̓̀

Wanted to get Ookawa Keito up here, because if you're basing your world off primarily eastern/Japanese mythology, you can't just leave out the Kitsune.

(Background image is not mine)

Birthday present I did for a friend @nuggdoesart

I know cameras don’t really exist in fantasy worlds but I needed to see the floof squad smiling.

Oh look it’s, in order, John Osbourne, Djalu and Kaider!

it's always so fascinating and heartbreaking when a character in a story is simultaneously idolized and abused. a chosen prophet destined for martyrdom. a child prodigy forced to grow up too fast. a powerful warrior raised as nothing but a weapon. there's just something so uniquely messed up about singing someone's praises whilst destroying them.

@trensu I just want you to know this has been living in my head rent free ever since I saw it

I have no words other than the simple fact that i have exhausted the current amount of tma au fics that aren't just fluff right now and... well, isn't that how the saying goes? if you can't find the fic you wanna read yourself, you may as well just write it yourself.

Simple premise is au where monsters aren't really as we see them in TMA, and can be controlled by the use of crafted sigils, either as a means of warding them off, binding them to an object (usually a book so their powers can be used once the monster's consciousnesss dies) or to destroy them entirely.

Jon is a special case by way of his rather permanent transformation at the hands of Elias, who'd crafted a very special sigil of his own to bind Jon to his command as part of a much bigger plan. Trapped with Jon, although not bound or created by Elias in the same manner, is Gerard Keay and Michael Shelly, with the latter being very miffed to say the least at being unable to kill any of the institute staff, (including most pertinantly, Gertrude Robinson the one responsible for the sigils binding them there for her uses under threat of death).

For a long time things seem absolutely hopless when Gertrude's last plan to stop Elias fails and she dies as a result, Michael and Gerry still bound to the institute and being used as unwitting labor by Elias in the aftermath with Jon staying as far away from the institute as he can until the time comes when Elias will inevitably use the sigil to force him back to the institute again.

Needless to say meeting and saving Martin blackwood from his own monsters was not something any of them could have forseen.

Finding A True Name

The woods are quiet at this time of morning, when the sun is barely peeking over the horizon and the forest be thick with mists and glittering with morning dew. At the base of an old oak I pick up an acorn and fashion its cap smooth like a bowl, carving down the stem into a base before I toss the seed high between a fork in the tree's upper branches.

I miss of course, but that's hardly the point. I have no offering for the little or hidden people, hardly believe in them besides an idle fascination with little rituals like these, a bowl of morning dew I'd carved but moments before and set aside between then twisting roots of the old tree, and a mandarin in my hand that I begin to peel as I lean against it and try to listen to the morning sounds of birds.

I hear a voice beside me ask what I am doing there, and I give a little shrug. It's a public forest, and I figured a morning walk would be nice, no need for the inquisition.

"You ever thought about climbing it?" they say, and I tilt my head. "When I was younger," I tell them, "I could climb a smooth pole if I wanted to, but no… not anymore. Maybe… maybe someday, but I'm not as sure those branches will hold me as I am,"

"This tree is special," they tell me, "It is old and it is tired, but it is a home to anyone who might seek its shade, for a price of course"

"Maybe," I tell them, "It's not like I didn't leave anything though,"

"So I see," they say, "but trees get water every time it rains, every night when the cool settles on their leaves, what could make them want some in a little bowl they can't even drink from?"

"Wasn't so much for the tree," I say, a small smile building on my lips as I pull free another piece of the mandarin and stick it in my mouth, "More for any hidden folk, should they want it," I swallow the piece of fruit down, "This oak gets plenty of what it needs, water, sunlight, nutrients from the soul, the freedom to grow, I figured all more it could want was some company, so that's what I offer it in exchange for shade,"

The other gives me an odd look, something of a little gleam in their emerald green eyes as they tilt their head a little to the side, blink twice, and ask me a question.

"Can I have your name, at least?" it asks, and I tell them of course. I give it readily enough.

The green eyed stranger frowns at me, "That's not your name," they say plainly.

"It is though," I say, "The one of my birth at least,"

"But it is not your name,"

"It is a name," I say, "they've never really seemed to stick to me, especially when I came out,"

"So what is your name?" they ask again.

"I already told you didn't I?"

They pout harder, "That's just a name, an empty name," they say, "It's not yours,"

By now I've caught on, whether fact or fiction or something in between,

"I suppose it's right to say I haven't one yet, I'm still trying to find it,"

"Was it taken?" they implore me, "No, that can't make sense if you could still give it freely,"

"I think it just died," I say, with another bite of the fruit in my hand, "It faded, with that part of me that didn't really consider anything else, or maybe it never really was mine to begin with," I swallow it down again, "I've been rotating between nicknames for now, but nothing quite feels right."

"I can feel them," it says, "Nameless, what an interesting thing you are, to be nameless and whole all at once, oh the fair folk would hate you and I would too, had I not the pleasure of your earnestness."

I give a little nod, despite the small swell of unease in my chest.

"Would you like some fruit?" I say, offering the other half, yet untouched but picked clean of skin and grit. It isn't often I can peel a mandarin without piercing it's flesh and spilling it's juices.

The Faerie smiles at me, a mouth full of needle like teeth and eyes that glimmer with gold flecked inside it's too bright eyes.

"I would like that," it says to me, and takes it readily. Popping some of the pulps in its mouth, one after another, and licking the juice from its lips as it chews. Turning over what remains in its hands and smiling a little to itself as it does so.

"What are you here for?" I ask it sweetly, pulling free a knife and idly making another bowl from a nearby acorn.

"I had wanted to steal you away," it says, and I stop a little at the declaration, "It's always fun to have better company in Faerie, with your name I might have been still able to leave something behind that would have others none the wiser,"

"And now?"

"I couldn't charge you if I wanted to," it giggles a little under its breath, "I haven't your name nor your thanks, instead I have two gifts freely given, and nothing but the utmost pleasantries from you on my and our friend's account, so I'll tell you what," they say, "I owe you a boon, and so meet with me whenever you are able, and I shall help you find your name, and it shall be all your own,"

"And yours?" I ask coyly, "May I have yours?"

They flick a finger by my ear and I laugh.

"Cheeky," they say, "but you may call me a friend,"