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#The Silver Mask
secretly-a-catamount · 3 months
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Arron’s death turned him from the savior (Constantine) into the sacrificial lamb (Jericho), and turned Call from the boy stuck in his counterweight’s shadow (Jericho) into the monster (Constantine).
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nonbinary-androids · 4 months
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I am fine I am normal I can be trusted to talk about The Silver Mask
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ashpkat · 15 days
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i do think it would be interesting to see how master joseph manipulated alex, it’s only ever implied that’s what he did by the way alex speaks about him in tsm. the only person we’ve seen try to explicitly manipulate into doing his bidding was call. also, it was never shown how joseph saw alex. alex saw him as a mentor / replacement father figure, but did joseph just see him as a student? how did their relationship change after drew died? did alex become a replacement son or just another source of disappointment? lovely that we’ll never get to know
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kittytheartist · 1 year
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Magisterium fandom wake up your nap is over
it's time to go crazy over our gang
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littleliongirl16 · 5 months
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CW animal death (images) and human death (discussed) Also, Magisterium book 4 spoilers
Okay I wanted to do some lyrics art for The Silver Mask. This first one is Call and Tamara with Things We Lost In The Fire by Bastille. I think this song works very well for Call and Tamara's reactions to Aaron's death in general, and this specific line felt like Tamara telling Call that if it turned out Aaron hadn't come back right Call had to be able to let him go. Just the... you can keep Aaron alive if it's partially for him, and if this undeath is a life worth living for him, but you can't hold onto the past against his wellbeing just because you don't want to lose him. The past is gone.
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And this second one is Call with No Good Deed from Wicked. That song works just so well to describe him bringing Aaron back. I tried to draw like... a representation of Call's soul and the missing piece in it that he gave to Aaron and honestly I've been drawing too many undrawable things lately but ah well. Also he's holding Jericho's notebook and those are the stoats he practiced on.
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books-in-a-storm · 4 months
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My Library📚
The Silver Mask, Holly Black & Cassandra Clare
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calron <3
9Ooo la la~~~~
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theenemyod · 3 days
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I wonder how many languages Alex would've called Aaron dead in if Call didn't make him shut up.
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dreams-and-dreams · 11 months
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Idk everytime i think about tsm i get excited until i think about it a little more
Like the set up, the characters, the potential character arcs IT WAS ALL THERE
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captainbrookeworm · 2 years
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This was my 500 subscriber special. One of my other most popular videos was magisterium, so it only felt fitting to go back to my roots!
Speedpaint + Commentary: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bhjyRxPEm6I
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quotent-potables · 1 year
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Call disagreed. He thought they should stay and kiss some more. It was an underrated invention, or at least one he hadn't rated highly enough himself until this minute
The Silver Mask, book 4 of the Magisterium series, by Holly Black and Cassandra Clare
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  Water is eternal. It cannot be created. It cannot be destroyed.
  Water is ancient. It fell from the heavens at the beginning of the world encased in rock, and, once it was freed, drowned the flames and ash. It falls to the earth still, a cycle that cannot be broken, an ouroboros eating its own tail.
  Water is all-encompassing, everywhere. It is present in ever living thing. It seeps into that which is believed to be dead but is not.
  Water births.
  Water sustains.
  Water kills.
  The man walked up the misted dock with an assurance that could only be granted by absolute power; someone who was used to taking what he wanted, the very mountains crumbling beneath his will. His skin was paler than sun-bleached bone, and his hair was the color of burnished gold and fell in tousled waves to his coat collar. He wore black clothing, blacker boots, and a dark gray jacket that accentuated his musculature well, silver buttons neatly fastened through ever hole atop his wrists and up the deceptively delicate, almost swan-like curve of his throat. His blood ran slowly through his veins, each beat of his heart punctured by a wound that would never heal.
  He stopped halfway down the dock, hellfire-green eyes scanning the partially obscured surface of the lake, and spoke.
  “I need you to do something for me.”
  The trees did not answer, gnarled roots and trunks bent, arms burdened with leaves bending down to be swallowed by the water, but the man had not expected them to. The mist did not answer either, but he had not expected it to, anymore than the trees. The wind, faint and weak, running the incorporeal tendrils of its fingers down his neck, didn’t answer, but he had not expected it to anymore than he had the trees and the mist.
  “I said: I need you to do something for me.”
  We heard you the first time, the response came from everywhere and nowhere, a thousand voices speaking as one but slightly overlapping, the angry buzz of bees, the deafening patter of raindrops against a metal roof, the howl of a hurricane, waves crashing against the shore, who are you, to think you can command the Element of Water?
  “I’m the Enemy of Death.”
  A moment of silence, then a loud crack as the end of the dock splintered off, then a thump as a mangled corpse pulled itself from the churning depths and heaved itself onto the splintered end of the dock.
  The mage gasped and staggered back, watching as the animated corpse dragged itself towards him with the nasty scraps of bone against wood, and the wet slaps of wood against rotted flesh. The water, splintered boards, rusted nails, vegetation, and silt, came with it, reconstructed its body as it went.
  By the time the Devoured was erected and whole, the Enemy of Death had composed himself again to the point of neutrality.
  The Devoured smiled like a predator, the vines wrapped around her bones and ruptured flesh acting as muscles and ligaments, her remaining bits of skin splitting at the movement, peeling away from her ruined body. Blood and oil leaked from her empty eye sockets, and her black hair twisted around her form like a shroud. She was vaguely humanoid, vaguely feminine, and vaguely young. She wore the tattered remains of a Golden Year uniform and a Magisterium wristband.
  “Hello, Tamara.”
  Hello, Aaron.
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thedoodlecat · 2 years
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Aaron needs therapy. Call needs therapy. Tamara needs therapy. Everyone from these books needs therapy.
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ashpkat · 1 year
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“i was wrong about you call,” aaron said flatly, “you’re not working for the enemy. you are the enemy.”
—i’ll never/always be with you chap. 10
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kittytheartist · 1 year
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he's in his emo phase
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lianasgarden · 11 months
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Hiya~~ finally made a tumblr account!
Anyways! I need some fic help right now if anyone would like to beta a chapter or two… much appreciated
BUT HEY! Even if you don’t want to do that, give some love, spare a sec (a lot of secs, I don’t ever shut up when I write) and read my two Magisterium fics
I’d Love To Change The World (But I Don’t Know What To Do) — Superhero AU
(This Is Not) The School Of Rock — Battle of the bands AU/ Highschool AU
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