#✢ MAEVE ✢ about.

[h-a-unted]

checking if this fixes my new tags

[snailification]

Idk who needs to hear this, but the reason your fic isn't getting a lot of attention is bc it's one big block!!

[for-tymora]

I'd like to apologize to my mother, to the Gods, but most of all I want to apologize to my friend and long-suffering wizard, Gale of Waterdeep

Act 1 was rough for Maeve and Astarion's relationship. Didn't last forever, though!

( Text based on posts from tumblr that I now cannot find due to the accursed search function!

Backgrounds by Rick van den Berg, environmental artist from Larian Studios! )

[alissssssaka]

4x07 spoiler?

[shiryawashere]

her face body language and general demeanor in this scene make me feel such intensely sapphic emotions i want to bite off my own hand about it

[shadowhandss60]

Maeve is an eons old demon queen and she got humbled by a 20 year old k*nky king with daddy issues and a 19 year old arsonist that just lost 99% of her power.

Another day, another slay for the all powerful book nerds 💅🏽

[phoenixyfriend]

Apologies if you’ve been asked this before, but do you have any thoughts on fanon!Obi-Wan vs. canon!Obi-Wan? And is there any part of his character that you wish fandom or fic would address more often?

I think that a lot of the fics I had a lot of frustration with aren't really in my search field anymore; I got really frustrated with Woobie-wan and some related themes, and those were really common in Cod*Wan... but since I don't really read that ship anymore, I come across that specific characterization a lot less. It still shows up (especially in fics that decide to have some fun with the Qui-Gon bashing), but less so.

I do think a lot of authors have difficulty balancing the Sass with the Competence etc. but ngl I think one of my biggest Wow That's Uncomfortable approaches is when people can't fathom the idea of Obi-Wan being happy as a monk; in those cases, he's either written as repressed and unable to fathom the idea of loving someone the way Anakin can, or he's written as Secretly Yearning To Break Free For The Ship. A lot of it also has some real shades of "ex-Christian Western Fans project their trauma onto a Space Buddhist who doesn't want to leave his religion/culture despite many opportunities to do so."

(Seriously, there is so much 'oh, you are definitely imagining the Jedi as a fundamentalist Christian sect with culty elements and can't fathom that they aren't evil' out there.)

And like. IDK. I hate that a lot. The man may not be celibate, but that doesn't mean he's unhappy with the life he's leading. He's a space buddhist and happy about it! He doesn't need to be fixed. There are other things he needs help with, other things where he could use therapy or family counseling or something, but his religion is never implied to be something that needs fixing.

IDK if that answers your question but it's definitely the two things I notice most often: Woobie-Wan and Jedi-As-Western-Cult stuff.

The stuff I wish I could see more of is unfortunately less easy to pin down because it's mostly about balancing character elements and that's a matter of skill, not choice.

[supemaeve]

It's funny, you know, of all the people here, I've known you the longest. Sometimes it just seems like you're the only person I can lean on.

[bugbart]

gotta let it out sometimes

[mithrilhearts]

I've been having some random fanfic writer/reader thoughts lately, and so now it's time to ask some questions. There are no wrong answers!

This question is centered around the idea of if I should post chapters as I finish them, or get most/all the fic completed, and then post them on a regular schedule.

[gentlemancowboy]

Maeve + Otis Season 1 // Season 4

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 61

Chapter; Highlights (okay the entire chapter is a highlight)🤣

As requested @mysterylilycheeta I NEED TO SQUEAL IN WYVERN FANGIRL WITH YOU NOW CAUSE OH M GOODNESS THIS CHAPTER ON SO MANY LEVELS I JUST AHAKWIHUHFEJLZXBKEKA

Agony was a song in Lorcan's blood, his bones, his breath.

Every step of the horse, every leap she made over body and debris, sent it ringing afresh. There was no end, no mercy from it. It was all he could do to keep in the saddle, to cling to consciousness.

To keep his arm around Elide.

She had come for him. Had found him, somehow, on this endless battlefield.

His name on her lips had been a summons he could never deny, even when death had held him so gently, nestled beneath all those he'd felled, I, and waited for his last breaths.

And now, charging toward that too-distant keep, so far behind the droves of soldiers and riders racing for the gates, he wondered if these minutes would be his last. Her last.

She had come for him.

Lorcan managed to glance toward the dam on their right. Toward the ruk rider signaling that it was only a matter of minutes until it unleashed hell over the plain.

He didn't know how it had become weakened. Didn't care.

Still Elide kept urging the horse onward, kept them on as straight a path toward the distant keep as possible.

No ruk would come to sweep them up. No, his luck had been spent in surviving this long, in her finding him. His power would do nothing against that water.

The farthest lines of panicked soldiers appeared, and Farasha charged past them.

Elide let out a sob, and he followed the line of her sight.

To the keep gate, still open.

"Faster, Farasha!" She didn't hide the raw terror in her voice, the desperation.

Once the dam broke, it would take less than a minute for the tidal wave to reach them.

She had come for him. She had found him.

The world went quiet. The pain in his body faded into nothing. Into something secondary.

Lorcan slid his other arm around Elide, bringing his mouth close to her ear as he said, "You have to let me go."

Each word was gravelly, his voice strained nearly to the point of uselessness.

Elide didn't shift her focus from the keep ahead. "No."

That gentle quiet flowed around him, clearing the fog of pain and battle. "You have to. You have to, Elide. I'm too heavy-and without my weight, you might make it to the keep in time."

"No." The salt of her tears filled his nose.

Lorcan brushed his mouth over her damp cheek, ignoring the roaring pain in his body. The horse galloped and galloped, as if she might outrace death itself.

"I love you," he whispered in Elide's ear. "I have loved you from the moment you picked up that axe to slay the ilken." Her tears flowed past him in the wind. "And I will be with you ..." His voice broke, but he made himself say the words, the truth in his heart. "I will be with you always."

He was not frightened of what would come for him once he tumbled off the horse. He was not frightened at all, if it meant her reaching the keep.

So Lorcan kissed Elide's cheek again, allowed himself to breathe in her scent one last time. "I love you," he repeated, and began to withdraw his arms from around her waist.

Elide slapped a hand onto his forearm. Dug in her nails, right into his skin, fierce as any ruk.

"No."

There were no tears in her voice. Nothing but solid, unwavering steel.

"No," she said again. The voice of the Lady of Perranth.

Lorcan tried to move his arm, but her grip would not be dislodged.

If he tumbled off the horse, she would go with him.

Together. They would either outrun this or die together.

"Elide-"

But Elide slammed her heels into the horse's sides.

Slammed her heels into the dark flank and screamed, "FLY, FARASHA." She cracked the reins. "FLY, FLY, FLY!"

And gods help her, that horse did.

As if the god that had crafted her filled the mare's lungs with his own breath, Farasha gave a surge of speed.

Faster than the wind. Faster than death.

Farasha cleared the first of the fleeing Darghan cavalry. Passed desperate horses and riders at an all-out gallop for the gates.

Her mighty heart did not falter, even when Lorcan knew it was raging to the point of bursting.

Less than a mile stood between them and the keep.

But a thunderous, groaning crack cleaved the world, echoing off the lake, the mountains.

There was nothing he could do, nothing that brave, unfaltering horse could do, as the dam ruptured.

Rowan made himself stand there, to watch the last moments of the Lady of Perranth and his former commander. It was all he could offer: witnessing their deaths, so he might tell the story to those he encountered. So they would not be forgotten.

The roaring of the oncoming wave became deafening, even from miles away.

Still Elide and Lorcan raced, Farasha passing horse after horse after horse.

Even up here, would they escape the wave's reach? Rowan dared to survey the battlements, to assess if he needed to get the others, needed to get Aelin, to higher ground.

But Aelin was not at his side.

She was not on the battlement at all.

Rowan's heart halted. Simply stopped beating as a ruddy-brown ruk dropped from the skies, spearing for the center of the plain.

Arcas, Borte's ruk. A golden-haired woman dangling from his talons.

Aelin. Aelin was—

Arcas neared the earth, talons splaying.

Aelin hit the ground, rolling, rolling, until she uncoiled to her feet.

Right in the path of that wave.

"Oh gods," Fenrys breathed, seeing her, too.

They all saw her.

The queen on the plain.

The endless wall of water surging for her.

The keep stones began shuddering. Rowan threw out a hand to brace himself, fear like nothing he had known ripping through him as Aelin lifted her arms above her head.

A pillar of fire shot up around her, lifting her hair with it.

The wave roared and roared for her, for the army behind her.

The shaking in the keep was not from the wave.

It was not from that wall of water at all.

Cracks formed in the earth, splintering across it. Spiderwebbing from Aelin.

"The hot springs," Chaol breathed. "The valley floor is full of veins into the earth itself."

Into the burning heart of the world.

The keep shook, more violently this time.

The pillar of fire sucked back into Aelin.

She held out a hand before her, her fist closed.

As if it would halt the wave in its tracks.

He knew then. Either as her mate or carranam, he knew.

"Three months," Rowan breathed.

The others stilled.

"Three months," he said again, his knees wobbling. "She's been making the descent into her power for three months."

Every day she had been with Maeve, bound in iron, she had gone deeper. And she had not tapped too far into that power since they'd freed her because she had kept making the plunge.

To gather up the full might of her magic.

Not for the Lock, not for Erawan.

But for Maeve's death blow.

A few weeks of descent had taken her powers to devastating levels. Three months of it

…

Holy gods. Holy rutting gods.

And when her fire hit the wall of water now towering over her, when they collided —

"GET DOWN!" Rowan bellowed, over the screaming waters. "GET DOWN NOW!"

His companions dropped to the stones, any within earshot doing the same.

Rowan plummeted into his power. Plummeted into it fast and hard, ripping out any remaining shred of magic.

Elide and Lorcan were still too far from the gates. Thousands of soldiers were still too far from the gates as the wave crested above them.

As Aelin opened her hand toward it.

Fire erupted.

Cobalt fire. The raging soul of a flame.

A tidal wave of it.

Taller than the raging waters, it blasted from her, flaring wide.

The wave slammed into it. And where water met a wall of fire, where a thousand years of confinement met three months of it, the world exploded.

Blistering steam, capable of melting flesh from bone, shot across the plain.

With a roar, Rowan threw all that remained of his magic toward the onslaught of steam, a wall of wind that shoved it toward the lake, the mountains.

Still the waters came, breaking against the flames that did not so much as yield an inch.

Maeve's death blow. Spent here, to save the army that might mean Terrasen's salvation. To spare the lives on the plain.

Rowan gritted his teeth, panting against his fraying power. A burnout lurked, deadly close.

The raging wave threw itself over and over and over into the wall of flame.

Rowan didn't see if Elide and Lorcan made it into the keep. If the other soldiers and riders on the plain stopped to gape.

Princess Hasar said, rising beside him, "That power is no blessing."

"Tell that to your soldiers," Fenrys snarled, standing, too.

"I did not mean it that way," Hasar snipped, and awe was indeed stark on her face.

Rowan leaned against the battlements, panting hard as he fought to keep the lethal steam from flowing toward the army. As he cooled and sent it whisking away.

Solid hands slid under his arms, and then Fenrys and Gavriel were there, propping him up between them.

A minute passed. Then another.

The wave began to lower. Still the fire burned.

Rowan's head pounded, his mouth going dry.

Time slipped from him. A coppery tang filled his mouth.

The wave lowered farther, raging waters quieting. Then roaring turned to lapping, rapids into eddies.

Until the wall of flame began to lower, too. Tracking the waters down and down and down. Letting them seep into the cracks of the earth.

Rowan's knees buckled, but he held on to his magic long enough for the steam to lessen.

For it, too, to be calmed.

It filled the plain, turning the world into drifting mist. Blocking the view of the queen in its center.

Then silence. Utter silence.

Fire flickered through the mist, blue turning to gold and red. A muted, throbbing glow.

Rowan spat blood onto the battlement stones, his breath like shards of glass in his throat.

The glowing flames shrank, steam rippling past. Until there was only a slim pillar of fire, veiled in the mist-shrouded plain.

Not a pillar of fire.

But Aelin.

Glowing white-hot. As if she had given herself so wholly to the flame that she had become fire herself.

The Fire-Bringer someone whispered down the battlements.

The mist rippled and billowed, casting her into nothing but a glowing effigy.

The silence turned reverent.

A gentle wind from the north swept down. The veil of mist pulled back, and there she was.

She glowed from within. Glowed golden, tendrils of her hair floating on a phantom wind.

"Mala's Heir," Yrene breathed.

Down on the plain, Elide and Lorcan had halted.

The wind pushed away more of the drifting mist, clearing the land beyond Aelin.

And where that mighty, lethal wave had loomed, where death had charged toward them, nothing remained at all.

For three months, she had sung to the darkness and the flame, and they had sung back.

For three months, she had burrowed so deep inside her power that she had plundered undiscovered depths. While Maeve and Cairn had worked on her, she had delved. Never letting them know what she mined, what she gathered to her, day by day by day.

A death blow. One to wipe a dark queen from the earth forever.

She'd kept that power coiled in herself even after she'd been freed from the irons. Had struggled to keep it down these weeks, the strain enormous. Some days, it had been easier to barely speak. Some days, swaggering arrogance had been her key to ignoring it.

Yet when she had seen that wave, when she had seen Elide and Lorcan choosing death together, when she had seen the army that might save Terrasen, she'd known. She'd felt the fire sleeping under this city, and knew they had come here for a reason.

She had come here for this reason.

A river still flowed from the dam, harmless and small, wending toward the lake.

Nothing more.

Aelin lifted a glowing hand before her as blessed, cooling emptiness filled her at last.

Slowly, starting from her fingertips, the glow faded.

As if she were forged anew, forged back into her body.

Back into Aelin.

Clarity, sharp and crystal clear, filled its wake. As if she could see again, breathe again.

Inch by inch, the golden glow faded into skin and bone. Into a woman once more.

Already, a white-tailed hawk launched skyward.

But as the last of the glow faded, disappearing out through her toes, Aelin fell to her knees.

Fell to her knees in the utter silence of the world, and curled onto her side.

She had the vague sense of strong, familiar arms scooping her up. Of being carried onto a broad feathery back, still in those arms.

Of soaring through the skies, the last of the mist rippling away into the afternoon sun.

And then sweet darkness.

[for-tymora]

A bit of an older comic (that I've been keeping in the back pocket), but I'd like to share! Maeve (my Tav) had a rocky start with a certain special companion. They didn't get along for most of Act 1, as Mae was frustrated with Astarion's more uncouth behaviors, and Astarion thought she was an irritating little goody-two-shoes.

They've both grown, though, and learned their lesson now;

(I am Astarion-pilled now, truly.)

[spacediddly]

Okay, but what I want to know is; what is the fandom culture like in the world of The Boys?

Are there people writing The Seven and Vought fanfic on Ao3 or a similar website? People talking about how The Seven are IRL found family, because they can’t see how much the supes fucking hate each other? Are people having to make apology posts for writing Stormfront fics after the news that she’s a nazi breaks? Angsty fics when the world finds out that heros are made, not born?

How much of the fics are self-insert of the author and their favorite supe? Is there a 500k+ college AU Homelander/reader fic that later gets turned into a book deal and then a movie, After style? How many people are making sad posts because their favorite C-list supe only has 50 fanfics about them and they’ve already read them all?

Is there shipping wars? Queen Maeve/Homelander vs. Homelander/The Deep? Fandom scandals? Did someone con millions out of fans with a fake The Seven dating sim? On April 1st, the Black Noirpocalypse?

Hughie was very publicly Starlight’s boyfriend for a little bit, as far as the fans know - is there fanfic of him out there? Does he have a little dedicated fan base? Better yet - we know Hughie was a The Seven fan before A-Train killed Robin (look at his room when he destroys it), did he read or write fanfic?

[concerto-roblox]

i thought the finale of sex education s4 was great but apprently a lot of people didn't like that otis and maeve didn't end up together. i do get that they were the main ship and you're meant to root for them but i think them getting a bittersweet ending hit really hard, and the letter maeve wrote to otis made me cry. maeve pursuing her dreams after a life of hardship and otis overcoming a lot of his anxieties and becoming close with eric again was (imo) a very satisfying ending!!

idk, obviously people can have their own opinions, but i just think people need to realise that sometimes a story is better when it doesn't have the happiest possible ending.

[charmedcleric]

Early morning send off

My inquisitor Maeve giving her family a last goodbye wave as she starts her journey to go help rook

She’s happy to be helping rook and the veilguard but she already can’t wait to return home to Cullen and their children and their dog of course