#cutting pieces of herself to sacrifice for one more spell

[rowanyx]

something something the moment you stop fighting is the moment you die something something Karna in the disposal something something death is a release something something Karna letting go

[ladyduellist]

Epistles of Saints & Sinners

Chapter Summary:

Reflections are made on Tav and Astarion's intimate night together before entering the Goblin Camp.

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Story Summary:

When Astarion meets the humble bard, Tav, he soon finds out he's the only one between them that knows they are bound as soulmates through their marks. Deciding it's more trouble than its worth, he refuses to tell her along the course of their journey across Faerûn.

But, unbeknownst to him and their companions, Tav is harboring a gruesome secret that she only thought was nothing more than a traumatized period in her life.

As they both come to face to face with their pasts and presents, will they choose to move forward or let it consume them?

Healing isn’t linear—after all.

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Chapter 7: Beholden

Ao3

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Word Count: 3.8k

Pairing: Astarion x female bard Tav

CW: Blood, Violence, Language, Act 1 Spoilers

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We must follow nature’s course. Whether it be cruel or kind. We cannot interrupt its plan for the world. Their tadpoles connected them in more ways, than a simple acknowledgement of their shared affliction. But, boundaries are toilsome when broken. And creeping upon their coasts, will cost a sacrifice yet to be demanded.

— Halsin, journal entry 1,200

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There was a stir of a song being born. One from the buds of untilled soil thought dead. The words to accompany it were being haphazardly forged on parchment, like random notes written on coffee-stained napkins.

Tav hummed and wrote. Wrote and hummed. It was an all-consuming process that transfixed her until it was completed. And her lucky muse? A wreath of ghostly ringlets framing two eyes of garnet that haunted the pounding organ behind her cage of bones.

♫On your chariot of umbra, You rode up from the world below, And with a kiss of starlight you…um??? Youuuuuu….♫

“Hope I’m not pesterin’ you. Saw you over here by your lonesome,” Karlach interrupted as she approached the lounging minstrel with a lopsided smile and a ‘hair of the dog’ pint in her grasp.

“Mornin.’ Only struggling with this verse,” Tav beamed, tucking a wavy piece of hair behind her ear.

“Something’s different about you, eh?” the fiery tiefling observed, taking a sip from her drink.

Tav placed her quill back into its ink pot and straightened out her music sheets while readjusting her position on the tree stump. A cunning prickling of thorns flushed on her cheeks. “I—no. I don’t believe anything has changed about me.”

But, that wasn’t true. Within a man’s arms she came undone, finding empyrean respite. His fingers worked her like a charm spell until she lost herself in the casted shadows of candlelight. Yet, it wasn’t her moans for him in the night nor the donation of her ichor that she gave willingly that surprised her: it was a piece of her trust.

“Perhaps it is because she engaged in quite the exhaustive venture last evening! Blood loss does have quite the effect on people—or so I’m told,” Astarion cut in. “But, me? I feel wonderful!”

And he did look wonderful. His cheeks were less gaunt. The bags under his eyes were a calmer shade of powdery periwinkle. Eyes appeared sharper, a brighter red. Even the sky blue coloring veins in his arms was more prominently saturated.

All his beauty and dangerous splendor were the reasons sonnets are made along the roadways of mud and intoxicating jasmine blooms. There was thousands of intricately weaved words inserted into poems to describe his ilk, like morning mist drops settled upon the threads of arachnids.

Tav cannot contain the lightness she felt when she saw Astarion. Her wings spread out, each feather hiding fragility under their vanes. Will he catch her slim feet as she flies away?

“Hey-o, you dandy! Ready to go gut some gobs today?”

Tav hushed the acrobats in her stomach. “Good dawn to you, ‘Starion.”

“Karlach. Songbird,” he greeted them equally. “You know I wouldn’t miss out on such a gutting show, however, I did come to check on our leader before we head out.”

Before Tav was able to speak, he had already sailed over to her upon muted silver heeled footsteps. She sat up, suddenly aware that he was bent acutely at his waist—enough to reach out to kindly dust her fresh bite marks.

“How badly does it hurt?” his pale head tilted, curls slipping to the side.

The smell of his freshly applied perfumes addled Tav's mind. His eyes, a clever decadence, held the knowledge of her ecstasies that she snuck to him during an impulsive need.

“Sorer than the wrist. Like a dull muscle ache from a cramp,” the bard congenially answered.

“Nothing you cannot surely triumph over. And how about everything else?” he breathed out.

The vampire does not attempt to mask his meaning or shy from the euphoria he exorcized from her body. He was brazen to ask her in front of their acquaintance.

Heavily did she swallow to control the overflow of her marching chest. “Fine. Everything else is fine.”

“Hmm. You know…” Astarion whispered, a low distraction as she watched the tip of his tongue wet his lips. “I can still taste you on my fingers.”

This fancier of the bloodthirsty arts, has two sets of teeth. One with which to feed; the other with which to claim. For this elven bard, a bargain has been made.

Tav wanted to match him in his torturous tease. To pluck out his devil’s tongue and boil it in a spiritual cleanse.

But, there was fine print that sat on the curled edges of the pages from their pasts, smudged with fingerprints and laced with belladonna. Warnings of holes where their hearts lay; labyrinths of frozen gardens that have no end.

Tav had not forgotten the way their rousing decision ended the night prior—with his fingers covered in her fruit and her lips finding purchase upon his alabaster skin. The vague emptiness that enameled over his touch, apparent through the shadows of his eyes. She had left his tent, with her sex loosened and a continual masturbatory bomb of fears that she had crossed a broken boundary of his that he didn’t yet understand.

“Astarion, there’s something I wanted to ask you about last night.” She attempted to mouth in hushed tones.

“Oh my sweet, you’re not getting mawkish on me now, are you? The only serious thing we need to discuss is when you’ll invite me back for another snack,” Astarion winked suggestively.

The bard continued her well-nigh unresponsive discretion of her features, ignoring Karlach’s pacing behind the pale elf. She stood up, a few inches shy of his natural height, placing her hands on her hips. Her quietness showed her sincerity as she stared into his face.

Astarion looked surprised, as if she had just turned an entire ocean to desert. He avoided entertaining her with any further quips or illusions, instead, blinking several times before abruptly summoning his trained foxy slink back to his face.

“Did you hear that? I think it’s our ghastly duty calling upon us to finally help those Silvanus freaks before they start complaining about ‘the leaves of nature being preserved'," he dramatically retorted as he casually checked the cleanliness of his nails. "It may be wise to think of better songs to regale the goblins with then you did that foul ogre—lest we wind up on the skewer. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Astarion gave the women a mannerful bow before he strode away without paying another peek in Tav’s direction.

Tav remained calm as he left, breathing out a long sigh. They needed to prepare for the assault on the goblins. He was a distraction—not necessarily an unwelcome one—but one with knobby roots twisted along the cloister inside his dried innards. If she didn’t get her shit together, a lot of people would die and their blood would be on her hands.

“I’m sorry about the interruption Karlach, he—”

Karlach took a long gulp of her drink, the ale dripping down onto her chin. Her face lit up—almost literally—with an excited smile. Tav knew immediately that the barbarian was far too astute in situations of sexual vices to not read the interaction that just occurred.

“Oh. My. Gods. That’s why you look like you’re glowing today! You and Astarion?! You fucked him, didn’t you?!”

The songstress's vision widened and her face felt like it would burst into flames, much like the tiefling’s engine. “Hells, Kar. Could you keep your voice down? We just—we kissed. A lot. And he obviously bit my neck to feed afterwards.” She pulled down the collar of her doublet to show her the punctures.

A white lie. Tav wasn’t one to share the details of her romanticisms with others. It was a preference to keep the echoes of intimate reflections as special moments: treasures discovered along the shipwrecks of life.

“Hey, I’m not judging! Astarion is gorgeous! Bit of a sassy grouch sometimes, but if I had my chance with him, I would not hesitate to get all over that.” The red woman made thrusting motions with her hips. “That being said, you don’t look entirely happy about it.”

Tav pursed her mouth, staring off to the right side of Karlach as she collected her thoughts. Her throat tightened as she spoke, delicately attempting to avoid providing any details she knew of the spawn’s past. “You mentioned recently that you sensed Astarion has been through a lot of pain, but I’m unsure where that begins and ends for him. And that concerns me. Karlach, I don’t want to potentially hurt him further. I barely know him and it’s… look, I’m telling you this because I think out of everyone, you will understand.”

Karlach crossed her arms, a caring frown accompanied the orangish calm of her irises. “I won’t pry, but Astarion seems to be fixated on his freedom from that fucker Cazador. Can’t blame him. I am too with my own from Zariel. Fangs can be a real piece of work, but even rotten scoundrels need a gentle hand sometimes. Maybe he hasn’t had that in a long time—if ever.”

The bard blew out the air she’d been holding in. “A gentle hand,” she repeated. “You’re right. Thank you for listening. I want what’s best for Astarion—everyone really—but I’m not sure he even knows what that is just yet.”

“I’ve got your back, Tav. Everyone in camp does too. And shit will work out, alright? We’re truly in this together, as sappy as that sounds.” The tiefling knocked back the rest of her drink, a glint of curiosity in her eyes. “Now, can you at least tell me how it was to kiss him? Please let me live vicariously through you.”

A merry laugh passed through Tav. She curled her index finger near her chin in thought. “Okay. Close your eyes and I’ll describe it to you. Imagine lips: plush, supple, but chilled. Not frozen, but a pleasant degree, like sweetened cool milk soothing your warmed lips. As you press them against his, you can feel your heart quicken and slow at the same time. Your breath’s intertwine with warm and cold temperatures that elicit thoughts you’ve never had. And when your lips start to move? It feels like you’ve both committed the crime of lassoing the sun closer to you as you melt into one another.”

Karlach visibly shuddered, opening her eyes to Tav smiling gently at her. “It’s no wonder you’re a bard. I could almost feel that myself! I suppose we’ve wasted enough time talking about boys for the day—should we get things rumblin’?”

Tav politely nodded and turned around to round up her belongings. Rummaging aimlessly through her satchel, her brow furrowed in annoyance.

“Something the matter?” the tiefling questioned.

“Just something odd. I could have sworn I put it in here before I came to write.”

“Maybe I can help find it. What is it that we’re looking for?”

Lost in confusion, Tav held the purse upside down a final time to see if any items stumbled to the ground. “My cuticle oil.”

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When he woke from his trance in the early morning hours with dried blood cracking in the corners of his mouth, his vampiric nose involuntarily breathed in an alien scent that had seemed to fill his tent overnight. A pink tongue darted out to clean off his mouth, swallowing the red flakes down.

Astarion’s clothes stunk of Tav’s fragrance—she was ever so fond of—having made homes for itself in the islands of stitches on his sleeves and ruffled v-neck. Bodily fluids, now dried on his ornamental pillows, a sexual honeyed musk. He wrapped his tongue around his finger, still tasting the glacé of her sensual defeat and the sour memory of their night together.

He reached for the rags he had used to wipe off her bloodied essence from her upper body, scrunching them up to place under his nostrils. Cock half-hardening, he inhaled without reserve and groaned at the reminder of the effect drinking from thinking creatures had on his hunger.

Under the light of a candle, its single flame licking wicked pathways to Tav's want, he had concealed his guise of disgust behind her shoulder. All he could remember was the act itself—that it happened. That his fingers entered her and he poetically spoke naughty phrases into her ear to anchor her wetness for him.

Trust. Trust. Trust. She gave it to him with the arch of her back into his chest. Just as he predicted. Just as he planned.

However, virtually all of the details of their intimacy—the night—were lost on him. Her face was another among the blur of thousands he seduced over two centuries. Up petticoats and down breeches he searched bodies to steal their pleasures. His cock only thickening out of trained habit or a rare wishful fancy of ravaging apart a neck from any creature without hisses and tails. It meant nothing to him.

Yet, a singular detail did remain. A place he entered beyond the second circle of hell in lust, a circle where it seemed like his death could be undone. A river of lyrics carrying him along a raft of flower-crowned skulls towards the banks of her merciful arms.

During the twilit minutes before he released her, he made the blunder of examining her eyes before their ravenous kiss. What he had seen was acceptance. And it scared the fuck out of him.

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“I am enjoying our walks together, aren't you Gale?” Astarion teased while they walked through the inner sanctum of the temple overtaken by the goblins.

“Um yes, in silence.” Gale leaned in towards him, whiffing his scent, “By the way, I don’t mean to pry, but did you apply more of your aromatic oils than usual? ”

He searched for a quick remark to hand to the wizard. “Only because I knew I’d be in your presence today.”

Half of the vampire’s morning had been dedicated to scrubbing. Crouched over a bucket of soapy water, Astarion had soaked his clothing and rags, ridding them of scents unknown. Of the lingering remnants of her. His skin raw from how hard he attacked his flesh with suds and woven cloth. The final touch? Excessive dabs of his oils in unusual places to cloy any bits leftover of the bard's odor.

“The Priestess is up ahead; I’ll go speak with her. Wait here for a moment,” Tav’s melodious voice spoke reservedly to them.

No-nonsense. That was a part of her Astarion both equally appreciated and despised. Despite her penchant to offer her generosity to all of Faerûn, she pulled her punches. It was a waste of time to her otherwise and could be messy. Efficiency would deliver the most desired outcomes, but gods, he desperately wanted to create mischief at every turn.

Astarion, be nice. Astarion, we don’t need to lockpick EVERY chest. Astarion, leave that ogre and bugbear having intercourse in the barn to fulfill their needs alone. Astarion, don’t have fun. Astarion, let’s save all these idiots!

”Astarion? Please don’t hurt me." Tav's voice echoed in his head, throwing off his equilibrium.

He shook his thoughts away, reflecting back on their encounter with the dream visitor in the prism as they came upon the entrance of camp a short while ago. It wanted to protect them against The Chosen. The Absolute. All their enemies. To give them power. Yes. Power was the most important ability to hold in all aspects. With power, the possibilities were endless. With power, he would have protection. All it would take, would be to manipulate the pretty songbird into aligning with his goals. And judging by how he already managed to pleasure her so soon after they first met, it would be a piece of cake.

Thrum-dub…thrum-dub…thrum-dub.

Pulses? Astarion felt the constellation of his soul mark beating mildly. Tav’s back faced him, her features obscured. Her body was hunched over minimally at the waist, hand at the side of her temple. His eyes narrowed, jaw taunt. Something happened.

Thrum-dub.Thrum-DUB. THRUM-DUB. THRUM. THRUM. DUB.

Faster now. Harder pounds of a pumping bass through the bandwidth of their marks. She was nervous—frightened. The threshold betwixt them was closing in as an invisible rope pulled him closer.

He flinched. Really, he should stay out of her way; he shouldn’t get involved. It was perhaps wicked to not divulge to her the shared marks they possessed, but it would change everything. His plans would become a brittle cascade of a future he sought. He didn’t want to disrupt the plank he had been trying to balance upon since his unintentional escape from Cazador. But, Astarion was aware that he needed her and she needed him.

Besides, what better way to obtain one’s help to a cause—his cause—than a life owed?

“They’re connected. Quickly, we need to do something! If we start attacking, Tav could be in danger.” Gale stepped forward, sweat trickling down the sides of his face.

Light were Astarion’s steps as he snuck upon Tav and Priestess Gut. The creator of his misery appeared stifled, her mouth partly opened with persistent shallow breaths. The tadpoles of the goblin and elf had connected; Tav was fighting to push it out. A dull whimpering snuck out from her throat as if a deer was jerking around in pain.

Astarion seized her elbow, declining his head to press his lips to the opening of her ear canal, nose softly resting against its shell. He whispered in elvish, a language only the two of them would know, steadying his voice firmly. “She won’t see it. Nothing is going to hurt you. I’m here.”

The hex of the worms severed and she was free! Tav’s body slumped downwards, but faithful hands were catching her, grabbing at her arm to wrap around staunch shoulders—wrapping around the illusionary dripping silverlight he exuded.

“When did you…?” her voice broke up in a hoarse mutterings.

Giving her waist a confident squeeze, he smiled sweetly at her. “Hello beautiful. Think you can stand on your own?”

“Urgh...yes, I think so.”

“Splendid. As much as I detest putting you in that wizard’s care, do me a favor and go to him.”

The bard wobbled as she stood on her own, backing away towards Gale. “What do you plan on doing?”

Astarion removed one of his trusted blades from his back. Bringing it to his mouth, he licked the side of it, much like when he smothered his saliva over bitten wounds. “I plan on slicing open the Priestess’s neck. Now stand back, the smell of blood will be in the air soon.”

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Filets of goblin meat were a stark contrast against the erected statues of the temple dedicated to Selûne. Her lifeless face watched the companions as they carved through the vile threats. Ripped sashes of ruby life essence unwound in the drafty camp, splashing the group.

A witness Tav played, as she paid honor to Astarion’s image under the sparks of the wagon wheel chandelier inside the chambers of Dror Ragzlin. He stood soaked in ichor, peering off to his side with a final swoosh of his dagger through the atmosphere, flicking off excess blood. The dance macabre had been sated.

Flags of pure white raised, red fangs and swords embroidered in the middle. The belief of their crusade, a righteous seat upon golden scales. Raise thy sword in the name of murder. Let us pray.

All three leaders: Priestess Gut, the drow Minthara, and Dror Ragzlin—deceased.

“As you can see, ceremorphosis has been halted—as a surprise to all of us. I am not one to tempt fate, but if you cannot heal us, then any guided direction towards someone that could offer assistance would be most appreciated,” Gale explained hastily to the arch druid Halsin they released from the goblin prison.

Halsin casted a yellow glow that coated Gale’s entire body, sensing the mechanisms of the mind flayers. “Illithid tadpoles. Oak Father preserve you all. I’ve studied these for a long time now, without much results. It was the reason I came here, to seek out research. I may not be able to heal you, but I can at least tell you where a mass amount of true souls are going to be infected.”

The druid was large, easily towering over Tav. Almost the size of the bear wild shape they had found him in. Scars upon his wise face, a set of misty tea irises surrounded by reddish brown hair that wafted of autumn leaves and sandalwood.

The bard was stunned. “You mean they aren’t all being captured upon a ship and given the worm as we have?”

“I’m afraid not. Moonrise Towers is a stronghold ruled by a man named Kethric Thorm in the Shadowlands. Innocents go in and true souls—infected—come out. The lands are dangerous. Anyone that steps foot there is at risk for turning into demonic shades,” Halsin spoke in caution. “You have two options to enter: through the Mountain Pass or the Underdark. Both come with their own sets of tribulations. The Underdark specifically is home to a Sharran temple.”

Gale faced Tav, speaking in a muffled shallow. “Shadowheart may be quite interested in hearing about that bit of information.”

Focusing on the fine lines of Gale’s crow’s feet lifting upwards, she nodded. Her eyes swooped down to the strange circular marking in the middle of his chest, the way it seemed like tendrils of smoke sneaking up past his clavicle, to the side of his neck. A part of him, he frequently hesitated to speak on. But, being so close to the human man, she wondered what secrets lay under the surface of his skin.

“I know you’re curious about it—the marking, I mean. But, now isn’t the time to explain. Soon, I promise.” Gale gave her a reassuring compress on her shoulder.

Tav, now quietly embarrassed, turned around, finding two familiar crimson eyes following her. Coveting and dark.

Thousands of flowers sprouted behind her as she went to him. With her tears, she would bathe his feet; with her hair, she would dry them. His armor drenched in blood, dripping onto the new growths left behind, urging petals open.

Thankful for his earlier care with the priestess, her inspirited hand graced the tips of Astarion’s fingers with delicate plumy touches as she briskly clenched hers around them before turning to leave the chambers.

“I owe you my life ‘Starion,” Tav whispered, peering away from him.

He deceitfully smiled. ”I’m sure there will come a time when I will need your help in return.”

[holly-natnicole]

Kairi's canon abilities & skills

As a Princess of Heart:

Together with the other 6 Princesses of Heart, Kairi's Heart reveals Hollow Bastion/Radiant Garden's Keyhole. Their Hearts of pure Light are 7 of the 20 pieces of the χ-blade.

Kairi was born with a Heart of pure Light. This makes her able to sense Darkness, able to hold Darkness back temporarily (but it's draining to her), and immune to Corridors of Darkness' corrupting influence since she has zero Darkness in her Heart. Losing her Heart wouldn't have resulted in Naminé's (Kairi's Nobody's) creation if her Heart hadn't taken refuge inside of Sora's; being a regular Somebody, Sora had a small amount of Darkness thus resulting in Naminé when he freed Kairi's Heart from Sora's own by using the Keyblade of Hearts. When she had lost her Heart, Kairi's body (&, presumably, her Soul) was comatose 'til Sora's sacrifice.

It's kinda unclear whether Kairi stopping Sora from fading away in K.H.3 was a Princess of Heart power or solely a Kairi power. The same goes for Sora in K.H.2 reading Kairi's letter opening a Corridor of Light from the Realm of Darkness to the sky above Destiny Islands. And for Kairi in K.H.1 transforming Sora from a Shadow Heartless into either a Somebody (therefore creating a body for Sora) or into a human-looking Heartless same as Ansem the Seeker of Darkness a.k.a. Xehanort's Heartless is (I prefer this one since it'd mean Sora still needs a Replica or a Nobody to become complete). I'm more inclined to see all 3 as Princess of Heart powers, but it's not explicitly confirmed in the videogames.

As a Keyblade-wielder:

Kairi starts out weak for the 1st 15 years of her life, unable to do better than any other non-combatant civilian. She doesn't summon her Keyblade when she gets it; instead, Riku is the one who gives Destiny's Embrace to Kairi.

However, the instant it's given to her, she easily destroyed 2 Shadow Heartless on her own with a single slash each. And, right before Riku gave Kairi her Keyblade in K.H.2, she jumped off a very high up balcony & landed in a squat with no injury.

But Kairi then (instantly after her landing) froze in fear when a bunch of Shadow Heartless surrounded her thus they easily piled up over her. In K.H.3, she froze again when Xehanort-possessing-Terra's-body was 'bout to slash down at her face with his Keyblade; possibly due to P.T.S.D. from the time he grabbed her face with his hand when she was age 4 or 5.

Kairi's main issue is her emotions. "Please work!!" she pleads her Light when using Flower Shoot (a ball of Light) or her magic when casting elemental spells; her self-confidence low or non-existent even after training with Lea, Merlin being their teacher. Understandable, considering the times Kairi had faced enemies she could barely run away from and who easily dragged her around by the wrist. Kairi knows that even after training she isn't strong enough to fight World-ending threats the way Sora and Riku can.

However, after being trained by Merlin, Kairi (despite her troubles) is a competent enough fighter to go toe-to-toe with much more experienced and powerful enemies; e.g. Xion, Saïx, and Xemnas. In that last one's case, she even breaks his Ethereal Blades with her Keyblade and forces him on the defensive 'til he uses Nothingness to drain her energy. With Sora's help, Kairi in K.H.:ReMind kills Armoured Xehanort. Shown in each fight she's in (including when the redhead fights her memory of old man Xehanort in K.H.:Melody of Memory), Kairi focuses on speed & quick attacks that repeatedly cut the enemy thus accumulating damage instead of killing them with a single powerful blow or a single massive magical attack. She's agile enough to dodge the enemy's hits and spells in mid-air, maneuvering herself without Gliding. Kairi also is strong enough to block the enemy's strike at least for a little while, causing a temporary stalemate. She can dismiss & fast re-summon her Keyblade in K.H.:Melody of Memory to keep attacking Xehanort, having learned from when Xemnas grabbed her wrist & twisted in K.H.3 (she stopped moving at the oain whereas her Keyblade being grabbed instead of her wrist prompts Kairi to dismiss Destiny's Embrace then quickly re-summon it). Kairi in K.H.3 can easily slash a Shadow Heartless in half same as she did in K.H.2, but has improved into using Spiral Bloom (a spinning attack) to rapidly cut the enemy several times in a row. She's also able to cast Cura to heal her friends. Kairi in K.H.:ReMind can cast Firaga, Blizzaga, Thundaga, Curaga, Waterga, and Aeroga. Her Shotlock is Heart of a Princess, which allows her to rain down orbs of light on the battlefield. When Kairi is a certain distance away from the enemy, she can use Strike Shift to quickly teleport to them by throwing Destiny's Embrace at them. She can also telekinetically spin her Keyblade around her, then catch it to give the enemy one final slash. With her Seven Wishes attack, she dashes towards the enemy 7 times with Destiny's Embrace held in front of her; it kinda stabs & slashes the enemy as Kairi goes (or tries to go) through them fast then whirls around to do it 6 more times. Same as Terra, she uses Slide to dodge the enemy's attacks when on the ground. Like Riku and Aqua, Kairi uses a hexagonal barrier made of magic to defend herself and she can use her unique counterattack Starcracker to shatter her barrier into a bunch of thalassa seashell shaoes that cut the enemy who is attavking her. With Sora, Kairi sometimes does the team attack named One Heart where each gains a golden wing made of Light & memories whilst they hold hands then together Kairi and Sora fly towards the enemy before using their wings to cut the enemy several times before their wings fade away in a shower of magical feathers displaying memories and they let go of each other's hand to land on the ground.

Kairi at the end of K.H.:Melody of Memory asks for Keyblade Master Aqua to teach her, as she wants to become stronger to fight beside her best friends Sora and Riku.

[mjblue]

Dorcas Meadowes headcanons developed (mostly) in the void

Hey Marauders Tumblr! I'm pretty new here, but I've seen people making lists like this of their headcanons, and as somebody who has never really interacted with fanon, I thought it would be interesting to share some of mine to see how they compare to what other people have come up with. I’ve had these for years, and my inspiration for them was literally just a few pieces of art on Pinterest (so, interestingly, the ways in which my headcanons are most similar to popular fanon tend to be in the characters’ appearances), the canon books, and my own overactive imagination. I'm starting with Dorcas, because from what little I've gathered she, Marlene, and Mary seem to be the characters for whom my interpretations are the most different from what's already out there (although it's fascinating how close they actually are sometimes).

Please do lmk what you think!!! I've put the list below the cut so as not to annoy people who just want to scroll ↓↓↓

First things first: like I said, I developed these before interacting with fanon much, so I am a Gryffindor Dorcas truther (I know a lot of people have her in Slytherin now, sorry 🙃)

“The weird and offputting one” (said with love)

One sibling. A brother, two years older, in Ravenclaw

Intelligent and creative. Would have been in Ravenclaw with her brother, but adamantly refused, as at the age of 11 she found him deeply irritating and could not stand to be in his presence

Very emotionally level. Difficult to excite, difficult to anger, difficult to deeply wound

Fatal flaw: stubbornness

Patronus: tiger 🐯

Acquired something of a reputation for casual meanness throughout her school years (though, importantly, not for cruelty). It wasn’t that she didn’t always think before she spoke; rather, it was that she cared more about what she thought than the feelings of those around her

Fashion-adventurous. As a child, enjoyed bright colours, patterns, and loose cuts; as an adult, enjoyed black, jewel tones, and artfully distressed items (would likely have enjoyed the goth subculture, but alas, ‘twas after her time)

Mastered colour-changing spells in third year so she could match the beads in her braids with her outfit, nail polish, and mood

Along with James and Lily, one of the few amongst her friends to have a happy upbringing

Would have done well in art school (mixed-media sculpture)

Did not dream of labour. Worked occasionally as a professional duellist, and won nearly all of her matches when she did, but devoted most of her time to the Order and her portraiture (which she hoped to one day make a living from, though she was unwilling to sacrifice her abstract, vivid style to satisfy her more traditional customers)

Genuinely confident in herself from an early age, including in her sexuality (asexual biromantic) (because gosh darn it this fandom needs some ace rep)

Figured the ace part out when she kissed her first boyfriend and hated it, but still wanted to know his mind and hold his hand; figured the biromantic part out when Marlene went on a date with her first boyfriend (which, in Marlene’s case, was comphet) and Dorcas also hated it

Confessed her feelings to Marlene straight away when she realised, but only to get it off her chest; never expected her feelings to be returned. Proceeded to date around a bit, and was pleasantly surprised a short while later :)

Had one Muggle grandmother, with whom she was very close. Passed away the summer between Dorcas’s fifth and sixth years (just after Dorcas received an ‘O’ on her Muggle Studies O.W.L.)

Took the maximum four out of five supplemental subjects after second year, mostly because a Ravenclaw bet she wouldn’t

Proposed to Marlene the night of James and Lily’s wedding, privately, in a dark corner of the dance floor after the newlyweds had left

Siouxsie and the Banshees #1 fan. Tragically too busy avenging her recently-murdered fiancée to listen to Juju, although she did hear “Spellbound” once or twice on the radio

Also an enjoyer of the B-52s

Anyway...I think about my version of Dorcas a lot (could you tell lol), and I'm pretty invested in these headcanons because they form the basis of her characterisation in the fanfiction I write, so I probably won't be changing my mind anytime soon, but it's always fun to hear what other people think! Seriously, please let me know :)

[miradelletarot]

Part 3: The Fury and the Fire - The Weave and the Vines

Summary: Elminster left after delivering his punishing news. While the others in camp are equally shocked and upset with the news, none seem to be taking harder than Sagora. When she isolates herself, Gale can't help but be worried about her safety.

TAGS: Angst, fluff, emotional hurt/comfort

Words: 2,242 | AO3 “Yours must be the sacrifice that will undo the Absolute.” The words squirmed through Sagora’s brain with more fervor than the tadpoles residing within her.

She was glad when Elminster left the camp. Another moment longer, and she might have taken the form of an owlbear, and shredded him into so many pieces that even Mystra wouldn’t be able to find the remains. The fire in her eyes was so wild that Astarion himself feared making a snarky comment in the off-chance she would incinerate him with a mere glance. The heat and tension in the air was so thick it could be cut with a knife. Gale softly made an attempt at subduing her rising rage, but was met with a venomous sting that rivaled the most poisonous of creatures.

He gingerly reached for her shoulder.  “...Sagora? Are you –” She snapped away from him as if to avoid being electrocuted. “Don’t touch me.” She backed away from Gale, and pushed her way between their other companions. Sprinting to the cliffs' edge near where they made camp, she did a swan dive over the edge as she shifted into a dire raven, and flew off into the twilight sky. It was dangerous to go off alone, but she needed to release her rage as far from everyone as possible.

* * *

Wyll offered to prepare the camp’s meal instead of Gale. He had enough on his mind that evening. Gale understood the task he was given, assessing that it was both an appropriate punishment and penance for his folly. It didn’t make the pain of his new reality harder to swallow, however. Worse still, everyone in camp tried to either make small talk to help him feel better, or outright share their misgivings at Mystra’s absurd demands when all he wanted was to just be alone. After finally indulging everyone’s thoughts and feelings in camp, Gale retired to his tent hoping for respite. He anxiously rearranged his tent, and thumbed through damn near every book he had on hand. Nothing settled his worried mind. She’s been gone for hours now. Intrusive thoughts raced through his already overwhelmed mind. This is your fault, you know. She left because of you. You betrayed her like you betrayed your goddess. If she gets attacked while she’s out there alone you’ll have only yourself to blame. He had enough. Spell components and weapons in hand, he rushed out of his tent, and walked past his companions who were circled around the fire as they enjoyed a warm meal. “Gale, are you hungry?” He ignored Karlach. Wyll stood, and sprinted after him. It took him some effort to keep up with Gale in his focused state. “Gale, c’mon. Sit down and breathe a minute. We can figure this out. It’ll be fi –” “ – No, Wyll.” He stopped to look at Wyll with an intensity not usually seen by his allies. “I have had my fair share of follies for one lifetime. This is one mistake I’d like to rectify…while I still can.” He stalked off leaving Wyll behind.

He pointed to the end of his quarterstaff.  “Lux via.” A warm radiance illuminated the night around him. As he neared the edge of the plateau, he drew a small feather from his pouch, and closed a fist around it. “Facera Ascendio.” The Weave sparked in Gale’s hand as he gestured in the air, causing the feather to vanish, and disappear along with his incantation in the wind. He flew off the edge in Sagora’s direction in hopes that he would find her safe.

* * *

It wasn’t easy trying to navigate the valley below. Gale lost count of how many times he cast Fly on himself just to try and find her. His latest spell wore off leaving him in a dark clearing near a patch of trees. Thank the gods for the bit of light he had. He had wandered what felt like the entire Mountain Pass, but still hadn’t located her.

All was quiet for a moment. Nothing more than a gentle breeze, or a cricket’s song broke the silence of the night around him. Gale collected another feather, preparing to cast another spell when the silence was ruptured by distant, bone-chilling screeching sounds. Normally he would avoid the obvious sounds of danger nearby, but Sagora was out here alone as far as he knew. What if she’s in danger? He thought. No time to dally. Like a moth to a flame he ran towards the sounds. He stopped at the apex of the hill when he saw an owlbear rampaging and screeching at the nearby trees as if they were foes attempting to slaughter the beast before them. Tufts of fur and feathers blown everywhere as the creature mercilessly clawed at the trees, entirely consumed with rage. The extensive damage caused a tree to fell one of its weaker branches, and fell on top of the owlbears’ body. With a yelp, the owlbear was knocked prone, and the magic faded to reveal a bloodied, red-haired druid. Sagora. Gale took off down the hill to reach her. The adrenaline coursed through her veins allowing her to fling the branch off with relative ease. She stood – not realizing Gale was approaching from behind – and began to scream, and sob as she flung spells at anything she could damage.

“FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!! ” Fire, Ice, thorns, and vines flew through the air with reckless abandon as she wailed. The pressure of this mission was too much. Everyone’s problems, their traumas, and the fate of Faerûn fell squarely on her shoulders. The man she was falling in love with, now charged with an excruciating death as penance for his sins. I got too close. I felt too much. She thought.

“Sagora! Stop!” His pleas nearly silenced by an onslaught of magical vines hurled in his direction before she realized who called to her. She was a mess of earth, blood, sweat, and tears, the heat coming off her body nearly rivaling Karlach’s.  She fell to her knees in an exhausted, sobbing mess.  Gale approached her, and while he wanted nothing more than to scoop her up and tell her everything would be okay, he wasn’t even sure himself. He knelt in front of her, reaching a hand toward her face to sweep some of her hair out of her face. “Sagora, I…I’m so sorry.” Again, she rejected his attempts at affection as she jerked away from him. Through gritted teeth and flowing, hot tears, she shouted at him all of the unsaid feelings she kept like a secret. “Tell me, Gale! How long were you gonna let this go?? Hmm?! All your sweet words, and kind demeanor were they just to win me over? So you could bed me before you kill yourself for your bitch goddess?!”  She wanted her words to sting, and sting they did. Her words stabbed him in the gut like a dagger. “Do you take me for a fool, Gale?  Am I just your toy to play with until you run back to Mystra’s tits??” More poison oozed from her lips, rendering his very soul. All he could do was stare back at her, and allow the assault to happen. “Ever since the fucking Nautiloid, I have taken care of everyone else’s problems! Help the grove, save the tieflings, find Halsin, kill the goblins, Get to Moonrise to find Wyll’s father, deliver Shadowheart to her goddess, stop an arrogant wizard from exploding by feeding him magical items… SHALL I GO ON!?” Gale’s brows curled upward as sadness and regret washed over him.

She let out a heavy sigh. “I’ve hardly had a moment to mourn my mother’s death. My father’s supposed to be in Baldur’s Gate. I don’t even know if he’s aware that she died. I was captured before I could send word. I’m not even sure I’ll be able to find my father once we get there. If we get there.” She sighed again, shakily, trying to stop herself from crying again. “My grove needs a leader. I am that leader now that mother’s gone.” Her voice softened finally. “Assuming they haven’t presumed me dead yet.” “Sagora…”

“I know, Gale. I’m an ass. More worried about my own problems when you literally have a bomb that could level a city, in your chest.” “No. Sagora… please.” His expression was insistent enough to make her fall silent. “The news from Elminster is certainly not an easy thing for me to digest, but I failed to realize just how many burdens you placed on yourself. It’s far too much for one person.”

Within the brief moment of quiet between them, Gale waved his hand and whispered an incantation to help clean the blood and dirt from Sagora’s body. “Thank you,” she whispered as she glanced down at her hands. “You’re right though.” She cocked a brow at him. “I can be quite arrogant at times I suppose. Such is the nature of a young man who garnered the attention of a goddess. One starts to think they are actually something quite special in this world. Oh, how silly a notion that is.” He paused. Finally, he was forced to think about his situation, and the relationship he once held with Mystra. “I want to be furious with you, Gale. Truly. But, I’m not sure if I should be angry with you because you lied about the orb, your relationship with Mystra, or the fact that I was foolish enough to fall in love with a man who is ready to die for a goddess who doesn’t respect him.” Shit. Her true feelings rushed forth like a waterfall, untamed. There’s no taking that back now. 

Gale carefully extended his hand to hers until the tips of their fingers touched. She didn’t recoil this time. He fully took her hand into his, smoothing his thumb over a bruise that already began to surface.

“Yes, she and I were lovers once. But there is no love lost between us. I see that now.  I’m not sure I’m ready to die for someone who so easily cast me aside. However, I am willing to keep an open mind. Not for her, but for the sake of Faerûn.” Sagora’s lip quivered as she made a fruitless attempt to choke back another wave of tears. He raised one hand to her cheek, and gently swept away the fresh tears that trailed down her face. His touch only made her feel more. “I would never take advantage of you. You’re not a play thing either. I could never trifle with your heart like that.” Despite the emotional mess she found herself in, she could tell his words were sincere. His gentle eyes pierced into her soul, and made her heart skip a beat. “ I don’t want you to die. There has to be another way. I’m sure of it. Whatever it is, we’ll find it.” The fatigue finally took her over as she let out a heavy breath, and slumped into his chest. Gale hurriedly grabbed his waterskin, and brought it to her lips coaxing her to take a sip. “C’mon now, Love. You’re overheated. Take a drink for me.” He cradled her as she lazily sipped the cool mountain water, her parched lips struggling to be quenched. If she had the energy, she would have gulped it down greedily. Gale took a moment to think as he stowed his waterskin.  “Can you shape into something smaller? I only have enough components for one of us to fly back, but you are in no condition to navigate yourself. I’ll carry you.” They had rested long enough for her to muster up the energy to shift into a feline form. He cast his fly spell once again, and scooped up Sagora before taking off. She was small enough that she curled up into the front of his robes. He cradled her through the fabric to ensure she wouldn’t fall out, and lead them both back to camp.

* * *

Gale landed back at camp as gracefully as he could so as not to wake the sleeping feline bundle. Everyone in camp was asleep by now except for Astarion – who looked like he just returned from his own adventure as he casually flicked a drop of blood from the corner of his mouth. “ Wellll…” He drawled out. “The wizard abruptly leaves to find a druid, and returns with a cat.” Gale’s brows furrowed. “This isn’t some cat, Astarion. It’s Sagora.” His words were rough, but hushed. “Oh, Gale, you take me far too seriously. I was just teasing after all.” Astarion’s lips curled into a sly, cheeky grin. Gale huffed, and continued walking toward her tent, Astarion following closely behind. As gently as he could, Gale coaxed her tired form out of his robes, gingerly placing her on her bedroll. “...I’m sure she’ll be fine.” Astarion said with an unusual warmth to his voice. “I’m glad you were able to find her.” Without another word, he left for his own tent. As Gale turned to leave, Sagora roused long enough to drop her form. “Gale?” Her voice was ragged, the taste of copper lingering in the back of her throat. His gaze locked onto her tired, glossy eyes. “Stay. Please.” He paused a moment, and studied her face. It wasn’t filled with lust or longing. She was sad. Alone. Scared. He laid next to her, and covered them both with a blanket, A practiced wave of his hand warming the fabric. He wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her close to his chest. She let out a trembling yet contented sigh as she settled into him, and fell asleep.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

[starfall-spirit]

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Summary: An irksome trip to the Summer Court on matters of business and assistance against a threat at sea takes an interesting turn when Rhys discovers the solution to Nostrus' problem no longer lies with his army, but a female sacrifice, bound at high tide in hope of appeasing the beast terrorizing Nostrus' shores. He certainly never predicted the rescue mission would result in an accepted mating bond.

AN: Merry Christmas! Here’s chapter 2 of my @acotargiftexchange fic for @eat0crow 🎄🎄🎄

Chapter II: New Beginnings

Feyre

Feyre had always considered herself clever enough. Not the most brilliant around, but smart enough to piece together when she was facing royalty. She was going to blame the chaos of her capture for her slow processing. Rhys was Rhysand, heir-apparent to the Night Court throne. Someone she was meant to stay far far away from if the stories she'd heard over the years were anything to go by. Yet if she ignored them all for a moment, it was easy enough to dismiss them as nothing more than rumors to frighten children.

From the very second they returned to his modest home in Velaris, a shining and busy city she'd somehow never heard of, he had been nothing but gentle with her. Overbearing one might even say, fussing over the smallest injuries inflicted when she had been caught by Nostrus' second-in-command. But then, males were known to act very differently with their mates, weren't they? How long would it take for the power of the fresh bond to fade?

She startled when he lifted her chin. "I hate that look." She furrowed her brows. "I don't need to read your mind to know you're questioning your safety here. If I will harm you, despite our bond. There is a mask we wear, Feyre, to protect our people." Uncurling his fingers, he slid his hand across her jaw, reaching to cup the back of her neck. "If there is one thing you always keep faith in, let it be that this bond is sacred to me. I'd sooner slit my own throat than lay a hand on you in anger or malice. Understand?"

She nodded and he let go, his fingers trailing her jaw as he released her. The spell was broken by a soft rapping on the bedroom door. He rolled his eyes, begrudgingly calling for whoever was on the other side to come in. Seconds later a female of great resemblance to Rhys stormed through the door. The eyes and coloring they shared easily marked her as his mother, though Feyre was thrown by the wings the female possessed. She was another Illyrian, yet Rhys’ lack of wings and clearly pointed ears put them apart.

She was distracted from the puzzling relation when the new arrival began lecturing her mate. "Rhysand, what were you thinking? Your father sent you in his place because he thought you'd keep your head and—"

"Mother, may I request you wait to berate me until my mate isn't present to hear it?"

"Your... what?"

His lips curled into a soft smile at the pure glee in her voice, stepping away just far enough to reveal Feyre's position on the edge of the bed. "My mate, Feyre. Feyre, this is my mother, Victorie."

The female gasped, her violet eyes bright as she took in Feyre. "I, uh, haven't cleaned up yet," Feyre said with a blush. If this female was anything like her own mother, her current state, smelling and soaked to the skin, was unacceptable.

"Oh, who cares about that? You are gorgeous. We'll be talking over breakfast in the morning. I want to know everything about my future daughter-in-law."

Feyre was too stunned to respond. Never once had her own mother seemed so eager to discuss anything with her, let alone her hobbies and interests. "I'd like that," she finally managed, almost whispering.

"Nostrus requested the meeting because she escaped," Rhys cut in, either recognizing her discomfort or just wanting to get rid of his mother for the evening a little faster. "Rather than still voicing his concern about the water serpent when he heard she was caught... There's something to be said for his pride, I suppose. Luckily for him, the creature is dead." His attention snapped back to Feyre. "The wraiths that helped us, they were indebted to you. Why?"

"I met my fiance a few months ago. The visit overlapped with the Tithe. He had given me a necklace and earrings. When the wraith speaking for her sisters couldn't offer anything, I gave her my jewelry."

"The Tithe?" She watched as realization dawned. "You're Tamlin's betrothed?"

"Drama," a light female voice sang from the hall.

"Avyanna, isn't it past your bedtime," Rhys drawled, earning an offended screech from another winged female, this one in her teens, it seemed. "Tamlin is a friend of mine," he explained to Feyre. "He knows what mating bonds mean and he'll respect ours."

"Will he?" the girl in the doorway chirped. "Rumor has it, he's already head over heels for her. You and your friend may be facing a falling out here soon, and over a female of all things. But we'll just let them worry about that. Hi, I'm Avyanna, but you can call me Avy. We're going to be the best of friends, I know it already." Rhys cleared his throat softly. "Right, sorry. You probably like to get a bath and some rest. We'll see you in the morning." She beamed. "Goodnight!"

"Forgive them, Feyre. They're romantics above all else."

She smiled. "It's sweet. My parents and sisters... We've never had that." He stroked her hair back. "Sorry. You don't want to hear about that."

"Hey." Again, he gripped her chin to keep their eyes locked. "I want to know everything about you. The good, the bad, and everything in between. Nothing you could say will scare me away, Feyre. I promise."

Summoning a set of clothes, light and comfortable enough to sleep in, he guided her to her feet and towards the bathroom. "Go ahead and get cleaned up. Take your time. I can do the same elsewhere."

"This is your room," she said with a frown.

"My hope is that it will now be our room, but if you'd prefer a guest suite, that can be arranged as well." She shook her head. "Alright then. Get cleaned up. I'll be back in a bit."

~~~~~

Rhysand

The second he shut the door to his bedroom he slumped against the wall. He never thought the mating bond would be so overwhelming, yet here he was, struggling with any basic thought beyond what it would feel like to kiss her. "Fuck."

"Rhysand." He grimaced at his father's voice and the heavy steps that marked his angry pace. "I thought better of you than this. That you had matured enough to be diplomatic in a foreign court. Now tell me why there are two blood rubies on my desk."

"Diplomacy went out the window the moment Nostrus tried to kill my mate," he growled right back. "If anything, the bastard should thank me for handling his little problem for him." His father, eloquent as he may be, appeared to be struggling to find a reason to scold him. After all, he'd murdered every male involved in his own mate's attempted wing-clipping at the camps. There were morals among the fae, few as they may be; lines you simply didn't cross. "Is it normal, feeling this..."

"Need to protect, to claim the bond, earn her acceptance? Yes." His father straightened, his cold mask firmly back in place. "Go bathe and get that stench off of you. We'll resume this discussion tomorrow."

Rhys let him pretend the scent of blood and salt and sand was the issue between them, crossing the hall to use a guest suite bath, grateful his magic had already cleaned the worst of it off of him and Feyre both. He was too exhausted to deal with scrubbing at serpent guts and whatever else had been on him. All he wanted now was to sink into bed and wrap himself around his mate. It was terrifying, frankly, how deep he was in it already. They'd met less than two hours ago and she already felt like everything he imagined for his future. More. Certainly more precious than any other female he'd known intimately.

She'd be his reason for living. In truth, he didn't deserve her. Not when on the bad days the man in the mirror looked too much like his father. Not when he'd been groomed to turn into the thing he was watching destroy his mother's joy. Seeing Feyre may have been the first thing to truly make her smile in months. He strived to be better, and he would. Before his thoughts could stray to anything darker, he felt a little tug inside him. A pull on that new thread connecting him to Feyre, tentative and curious. He chuckled, tugging back before reaching for the soap beside him and finishing his bath. Taking his time to dress, he returned to his personal room, knocking softly.

"Come in."

He wished he could claim the first thing on his mind was something respectable, but taking her in, his only thought was how much the fashion of his court seemed to suit her. Granted, he'd yet to see her in any other court's clothing, beyond the ruined dress he'd found her in. "Night Court colors suit you. Feeling better now?"

"Yes. Though I feel like I could sleep for days."

His protective instincts rose again at her tone, the glaze in her eyes. "Nothing else was done to you before you were left at the rocks?"

"I'm fine, Rhys. It was just... frightening. If you and the wraiths hadn't been there, I'd be dead."

He gripped her hands, squeezing softly before pulling her over to sit on the bed beside him. "They won't cross our borders, Feyre. Cassian and I will be marked enemies in the Summer Court, but they have no reason to follow you here."

Perhaps not Summer. Rhys grimaced. "Please stop reading my mind," she whispered.

"I'm no longer doing so intentionally, Feyre. But your shields are abysmal and the bond will only act as an amplifier until you learn to keep that block in place."

She ignored his comment. "Even if Tamlin isn't a problem, his father is another issue entirely. Whatever deal he's struck with my parents... He isn't going to be so agreeable about honoring a barely developed bond."

He took a moment before responding, trying to navigate how to proceed with this conversation. "You are hesitant to accept our bond, yet you have no desire to go through with your engagement."

A heavy silence settled over them, as if she was being careful with her word choice. "All my life, I have been raised with the purpose of bringing wealth or other benefits to my family and court. My sisters too. Elain was the most beautiful and was wed to the Heir of Day almost twelve years ago. Autumn has their eye on Nesta. It took all of one meeting for me to be sold off to Spring, then a sacrifice of my own High Lord before the wedding could even be announced. And now I am here, and while I want to trust your words, I fear I'll be your father's puppet too. A pawn on his chess board."

The rest hung unspoken between them. If she and Rhys weren’t tied by fate’s threads she’d have said goodbye on Summer soil. Made an escape from it all before she considered marrying another royal. His birthright had never felt like such a curse. “You are no one’s puppet. Not mine, not my father’s, not Spring’s. You will never be a pawn again, Feyre. I swear it on my life.”

She sighed, seemingly comforted by his vow—or perhaps just too exhausted to do anything more than slide under the covers.

"Tell me about your family," he murmured, his fingers trailing down her spine as she curled against his chest. "Beyond the marriage business, I mean."

She shrugged. "My mother and father are too busy social climbing to be considered respectable parents. My sisters... We used to be close, but we weren't raised in a way that gave us the time or desire to bond naturally. I love them, but Nesta can be..."

She shook her head. "Elain was your typical middle sister, mediator at the best of times, hidden away at the worst. The favorite too," she said, trying to hide the bitter note in her voice. "Our father's and society's. You should have seen how quickly Vanserra began to favor her. Not that the fascination lasted long. He ran off to The Continent to fight just months after they had their child and hasn't been seen or heard from since.

“Ten years since he set sail and she hasn't heard a word. He's either dead or found another female to enjoy until Helion calls him home, I suppose. I can't say I'm all that surprised. Like I said, it was an arranged marriage. Elain never expected much better from him. Now she's stuck there dealing with those dreadful suitors."

He shook his head. "Two of my father's men were sent as suitors just a few weeks ago. We're natural allies, as solar courts, but with Lucian assumed dead the game is changing. My father is an opportunist, above all else. He wants a strong foothold in Helion's court. Even if Helion's power won't pass to whoever your sister chooses, she's already become beloved."

"Night would have the perfect spy. Clever. And horrible. I hate that her life has become a political game."

Rhys hummed. "She's holding strong, from what I've heard. Entertaining the suitors while dodging their advances." He paused, thinking for a moment. "You know, it wouldn't be terribly difficult to request a visit to Day. Helion and I have ties of our own and if I express you're missing your sister terribly, well, he adores her and would be interested to meet you."

She bolted up in bed, grinning wide. It was the first real smile she'd given him and it took his breath away. "You'd do that for me?"

Cupping her face, he smiled right back. "Feyre, darling, I'd do anything for you. Ask and it's yours."

~~~~~

Taglist: @lulling-night-sky // @edgyellie // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @darling-archeron // @goddess-aelin // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @elentiya-whitethorn // @acotar-fanns // @jealousveronya // @acourtofwips // @reverie-tales // @gwynkyrie // @corcracrow // @thelovelymadone // @rosanna-writer

[mylordshesacactus]

I adore bragging about my players’ cool moments but, hey, I’m playing the game too, and I gotta give my girl Arlette Starstrike her moment here.

The party has been holding the city. They’re doing well, handily defeating enemies I anticipated being much greater threats; it’s immediately clear why the five of them, alone, are being considered a swing division in their own right by the decimated city guard. When the walls are breached and the party arrives at the gap, they manage to hold it for a while.

But then, the fae commander enters the battlefield.

She’s a pale woman in dark armor, wearing a deeply hooded cloak of such dark green it’s nearly black. The silver greatsword in her hands is brutal in its elegance. She is not hurrying; but her slow, inexorable approach belies the unnatural speed at which she can move, blurring like a heat mirage when she dodges, whipping that vicious greatsword through the air like a reed whip.

She carries a torch of emerald flame. From much, much farther away than she should be able to manage--shortbow range, nearly--she whips it over her head like a javelin into the breach.

The explosion on impact is devastating. Andromeda, their paladin, is thrown sharply into a stone wall, cracks her head against the rubble, and drops. Every other member of the party that was within range is knocked prone by an explosion of magical fire, struggling charred and bleeding to their feet. And then the small army, safe now inside the range of the city’s very, very few trebuchets, rushes in. 

Two massive animated hangman’s trees--hulking oaks, perpetually regenerating themselves with the power of the earth, dripping with black nooses and rusted chains--charge forward to flank their commander, and she walks calmly up to the nearest defender and starts methodically cutting them all to pieces.

Slowly but surely, the party starts to lose.

She fights dirty, using Command words to pull ranged fighters and casters in close before unleashing powerful AoE effects that desiccate the earth, drying out the grass, leeching moisture from the soil, cracking the party’s lips and skin with the heat of a desert sun in summer--here, in late autumn, in the middle of the fantasy space Alps.

She’s smiling. She’s enjoying this.

I think almost every member of the party goes down in this fight at least once--including both paladins (Olassa, taken to her knees by the desiccation spell; Andromeda, struggling back to consciousness to heal herself as best she can and then charge bravely back into the fray because she’s their heaviest hitter and she’s desperately needed)....the only healers the party has access to. 

Audie, a bookish librarian wizard, once again shows her deranged levels of courage by rushing deeper into melee range and sacrifices one of the party’s precious healing potions to get Olassa back to consciousness; but this is no longer a game of healing back to fighting status. The party is tapped. They’re trading hitpoints in the single digits, trying to keep everyone conscious--and it’s a battle they’re losing.

The fae commander steps calmly up until she’s standing over the faintly stirring Olassa. She runs two fingers down the flat of her blade, emerald runes flaring in their wake. The party knows this spell. She’s used it before, against Farrah. There is a non-zero chance that a single blow with this spell active will be enough to kill Olassa instantly--and if it doesn’t, the smile on the commander’s face says she fully intends to finish her off on the backhand.

As she raises the blade, the emerald runes flare amethyst and explode, shattering like dropped glass; the blow goes wild and misses as the commander is knocked away, more by surprise than force, by the snarling werewolf suddenly crouched over the fallen Olassa.

Arlette Starstrike, level five sorcerer, facing a woman armed with a silver greatsword--burning her only level 4 slot on a single desperate Counterspell.

[mikuchan]

my Tavs😊

@gaeldricge the deep lore lol

Findingway - wild magic sorcerer

I made her just to run through the game again as research for Something to Play For, but I really like her. She was born to a family of respectable and scholarly wizards in Baldur's Gate -- no one will confess to who made a deal or slept with a devil, but she suspects her mother. Either way, her appearance + her uncontrollable magic made her the odd duck out. She has a troubled relationship with her family.

At boarding school she met & became close to another tiefling student. He told her how some tieflings choose their own names based on who they are, or who they want to be -- and so 13-year-old Wilhelmina James, desperately trying to figure out where she fit in the world, became Findingway instead. Actually I took the name Findingway from the FFXIV Lopporit because I thought it was cute and didn't expect her to become more than a research vessel

She is a control freak who bottles everything up until she explodes and does something dumb, and/or makes a stupid power grab. She's eaten every tadpole, got the hag eye + ate the skin piece, exploding blood, etc etc and is mad none of them fixed her situation. Try as she might, she's chaos on two feet.

She has I think 23 Charisma and can talk her way into (or out of) aaaanything, but she's not very smart. She's not evil, but is closer to amoral than pure good; she puts herself first. She's romancing Minthara.

She hoards gold and food. It makes her feel important. She has about a million bottles of wine right now, and her future plans are to open a wine boutique in Baldur's Gate.

Yrollam - Dark Urge high elf barbarian

Yrollam woke up in a crashing nautiloid with no memories, but luckily there was this super cool necromancer there to help her. Now it's Yrollam's job to carry bodies and books for her new BFF Elberos (my husband's Tav), and she does it with pride.

She's very much a 'pleeease let me bloody my hands for you' type. Eager to please and with very few limits.

Before the game, she was scholarly and unethical, more of a mad scientist vibe. Currently, she is struggling with controlling her Urge. She's romancing Wyll while Elberos romances Minthara.

I drew her AU where she didn't meet Elberos and she went with Auntie Ethel instead

Sabine - drow druid. I put her at the end even though she's my favorite, since her info runs longer

She was born the third noble daughter of a very low Menzoberranzan House. Seeking Lolth's favor, her parents thought she would make a worthy sacrifice, so they left her as a toddler at the entrance of a giant spider nest. However -- the spiders were sentient but not Lolthsworn, leading to Lolth taking offense at their waste (leaving a precious noble girl out for random spiders? really?) and rejecting their clumsy 'offering.'

Lolth punished her parents instead with a cave-in (killing both her parents, and spelling doom for their now-leaderless House) which also cut off the heretic spiders from her city. The spiders, however, found the drow child, took her in, and raised her as their own.

Sabine is the closest name in Common to what the spiders call her, which is itself a bastardization of the drow name her parents gave her (Z'brnn) - so it's the name she uses aboveground. After reaching adulthood, she left to learn more about drow, figure out where she fits into the world, maybe find a new way into Menzoberranzan... she can wildshape into a spider, but she's uncertain whether she wants to do that permanently so she can return home and fit in with her family, or -- now that she's found so many friends and loved ones -- stay a drow and remain aboveground (more or less - she loves her spider fam, and will visit them whether spider or drow!).

I changed her hair when she got to the city + added some age lines.

She was the Tav I made in early access + again in my first runthrough. I'm going to restart her because I couldn't recruit Minthara back then. Also, she romanced Astarion/Halsin but I think she would be a better fit with Gale (very curious woman + excited infodumper) so I'm changing that on her new playthrough.

She was excited to meet the drow prostitutes. She hired them for several hours just to sit and talk with them about drow culture.

Her Dream Visitor took the appearance of her (bio) father, who she only vaguely remembers.

There's an AU where she was not taken in by the spiders, but by a different House who followed her parents to the edge of the city. They killed her parents in Lolth's name, destroyed their House, and took Sabine (Z'brnn in this canon) + her older sister. She's a Lolthsworn ranger in this timeline, traveling with my husband's Durge (who was redeemed in his playthrough, is evil in this one).

Bonus, Elyon (Ellie) - Dark Urge assassin rogue (based on my neighbor's kitten who went HAM on a pigeon outside...), but I lost heart in her. She was going to be my super-evil playthrough but I don't want to kill Isobel, so she's just stuck in Act 1 forever

[thedizzydinosaur]

Day 5 resist (sacrifice/corruption/secret)

Tw: mild gore, mention of death, (temporary) child death

It hurt.

Despite all of the potions and salves that were ment to numb the aria in question, each careful, measured cut of the knife stung like a brand, buring hot and sharp.

But he could not stop, not even for a second. Stopping would make him falter, make him bulk and if he were to do that, he would fail at his task, his vital, time sensitive task.

Viren gritted his teeth, and carefully worked the tip of the blade between one of his ribs and the edge of his sternum.

He had to do this. His son would die if he didn't.

Your son is already dead. A poison laced voice in the back of his mind hissed. Dead and laying on your office desk.

Lissa, his sweet, strong Lissa.. she didn't know his plan. This last ditch, desperate plan that had already cost him so much, that was already staining his skin a ashy grey.

She was yet to find out about soren- no, if she was to find out that he'd passed whilst she was away on urgent business, she would never forgive herself.

He'd lose both of them.

Another rib came away with a stomach twisting sqrunch, and another, and another. Viren kept his eyes fixed on the scene playing out in the mirror he'd set up for this task.

He'd never convince anyone to help him with this. Even Mr experiment on thy self Kpp'Ar, like he'd be any use to anyone any more.

The sight of his own exposed organs was enough of a shock to the system to temporarily nub the pain that came with the handful of ribs that covered his pounding heart.

The fat sack surronding it was a suppriseing shade of yellow, and came away easily from the muscle with a couple of flicks of the knife.

He placed a little of the fat in a bowl - it would be needed for the final spell.

Viren paused, and steeled himself. One wrong move here, and it would be all over.

Over for him.

Over for soren.

Just over.

But there was no time to think about that now. He took a deep, steading breath, angled the knife just so, and cut into his beating heart.

-

---

------

He was cold.

It was probably the shock of what he'd just done.

And blood loss. Probably. There was a high chance that that was starting to catch up to him, too.

But he'd managed to put his ribs back into place and slap some potent healing salve on under the banages that now bound his chest together before his strength finally failed him.

He could feel the magic seeping into his skin, flesh, and bones. Each breath, shaking and wheezing like he'd just run up the steps of the north tower from courtyard to ramparts, was slowly getting easier, and less painful.

Small drops of relief against an ocean of pain.

He flopped, boneless and weak in his chair.

His time piece, a delicate metal marvel that Harrow had gifted him on his wedding day chimed Somewhere behind him, telling him that at some point the it had stopped being late at night, and started being early in the morning.

He turned his head to look at the sad, still bundle that was his son, still wrapped in his blanket and cuddling his plush dragon to his still chest.

In a few short hours, Claudia would wake up, and come looking for the two of them.

And Lissa was due home not long after.

.. he couldn't fail them.

Viren pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the way his head swam and his chest burned, and hobbled over to his desk, leaning heavily on his stalf for support.

He still had so much work to do, and so little time to do it.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

also to go "wow this is just like in pentiment" about absolutely anything and/or "wow this is just like iphigenia crash land falls on the neon shell that was once her heart (a rave fable)" about absolutely anything further:

the Narratives within crash land falls where like, in the end iphigenia being Given the story of both "this is going to happen anyways" and "so why don't you see it as a noble sacrifice to accept." the situation happening to Create a story that she was killed, so her father must be tragic, and sympathetic. that iphigenia does take on that Narrative of taking on the Noble Willing Sacrifice, and it kills her, but she also would have been killed anyways, as everyone also knows. that we even get a bit of pentimentesque [other characters observe & assess things] like, the fresa girls as a chorus, and one at the end like yeah She Was No Saint, i saw everything, but being cut off by The News that's like yeah looks like iphigenia was killed, that seguing into her father saying yeah she was killed, god's will was done, She's A Saint now. seguing to the emcee who introduced the play, but that superceded by achilles, and that superceded with iphigenia's extasis monologue as the end of the play. that whether iphigenia's a saint or not, she dies. that [the whole play] tells us as much, like, this isn't a What If kind of retelling where she escapes her fate, this is a retelling examining itself like, she Will die because the story's preset, so what to do with this as the story that has to take her there, what to do with this as iphigenia who has to go there

that iphigenia takes on another narrative in addition to the one offered by like, violeta as guide and oracle telling her she has to die (As A Noble Sacrifice), that again (as per iphigenia in aulis being like uh hey daughter. let's go to aulis so you can uh marry achilles (it is to be sacrificed)) achilles is this bait, but it's only in the ending that there's any Story about being with achilles, and when iphigenia goes to the mercenary soldier who she knows will kill her, she's the one telling him what to tell her about where she's going and why, i want you to tell me achilles is waiting for me....and she still dies, because This Is The Story. as also applied to the reality, iphigenia as another dead and missing girl following & preceding many; any disappeared deaths when consumed as disposable & replaceable, not given part of any narrative about it. while also iphigenia only gets a chorus of fresa girls from there being crosses put on the factory wall with their names, with one girl even remarking like hey they spelled my name right for once. but at the same time they're also like, both mere Apparitions but also like standins for people who are simply alive. real [shades]esque kind of, i suppose, but like they're not Sanctified for dying either, they'll comment on iphigenia but not with any like, divine knowledge, just as this out of place rich girl. whether iphigenia's A Saint or Not A Saint, she's still dead either way. she wants to be a fresa girl, they maybe want to be her, but everyone's doomed anyways thanks to way larger forces and the Stories that have been told and will be told again

but there's also the moment right before the final section wherein, before she's having to say what she wants within the bounds of [she has to die], there's achilles asking "you still want me" and iphigenia answering with "i want everything" and her vision for, like, getting to be alive actually, i'm on the gulf where the sea is gray, and no one wants a piece of me....the whole inciting event here where iphigenia wants to evade her fate however she can, exiting the bounds of her life, the physical bounds and the family unit and walking away from the rank of status / class / wealth, trying for [have her body for herself] and what the body wants, the sensuous indulgences of (a rave fable), let's hear some more about the roman state like "we don't like the examination and challenge and upending of class and convention in a bacchanalia, so only do the official versions we permit;" the Threat of people's desires for themselves, when that's going to be counter to those in power who'd want these people to be resources at their disposal; the burden on the disempowered to suffer [the only way out is through] with the Additional pain & loss that has to be taken on in pursuit of their autonomy, while also of course suffering for the autonomy they lack, that restricted and controlled and mitigated versions of what you might want are deigned to be provided or permitted so that you have Something, but that everyone's actual undeniable personhood will always be spilling past those bounds, the potential power of transgressive pleasure when one's wellbeing and autonomous choices are counter to the power structures that have to constantly try to suppress and preclude this. achilles just as bait, doomed to die like iphigenia is also still doomed, sex was never going to save everyone and the [recognizing connection as these two parallel people / We're The Same] with your lover here is not going to save everyone but it still makes more things possible for them both; iphigenia does know what she wants, and gets some of it because she wants it, same with achilles in turn, while it can't save anyone from their fates still. but it can mean something even if it doesn't transcend, like even a fleeting night of insignificant dancing that doesn't change anything can mean something, and we all die, but that doesn't mean it's Nothing to be killed any more than it's Nothing to have your desires or choices one way or another to be wrung out of your life before you are

anyways, the stories. the Looking and Presenting here. achilles and iphigenia first encountering each other as images put together and presented by someone else for their own purposes. the presence of what's seen through film/camera/recording versus in person; the potential power relations and even violence in framing, presenting, and the intended looking and assessing. repeated language about eyes/looks that burn, while also that connection between iphigenia and achilles, and their finding the least room in what they do have of their lives for more of their own wants and selves and something genuine and not predetermined, is also connected to eyes and looking and being seen and light and burning. while they're also connected to the protection and possibility of night and darkness, getting to exist and be Without being lit up or seen; that with the power that's still in play, it's never like, well then you should have nothing / no reason to hide; the penultimate moment in the play with achilles being one that's in person and fades into darkness, rather than coming in from the light of a projection / video onscreen as the introduction....iphigenia needing to be guided through a crossroads to even get to achilles in person; violeta giving the Advice and Story and Tradition to pray to eleggua, as iphigenia does before getting to encounter achilles for real, who also doesn't get to break out of a role or a fate in full in any way, but their tragedies are like, pointing towards [autonomy, imagine it] in both the ways they manage to find a little bit of it for themselves, in no small part for simply recognizing each other as in the same boat here, and in the ways they still don't have it and still can't get it

and anyways it's also inevitably saying like, telling a story?? this Play is a told story!! looking? assessing? interpreting? you're doing that in the course of experiencing it! and it's really so fucking true.

[summercreolefanfictioner]

Prince Laito of the House Sakamaki (Game of Thrones AU)

(moodboard + plot headcanons)

Prince Laito of the House Sakamaki. The Spider of Westeros. The Man of Word Trades. The Messenger. The Destroyer of Houses. The Unburnt. He Who Knows All Secrets. The Fifth Son.

at a young age, Laito constantly pressured himself to prove something bcos Ayato excelled at wielding double blades, Kanato displayed fire magic, and he still showed no progress

there was even a time he became Kanato's apprentice for magic spells, learning a few Valyrian spells he can chant in case of danger

he also became Reiji's test subject, to the point of being immune to various poisons

it wasn't until he heard one of the officials conspiring against Karlheinz that he was recognized as "The Spider of Westeros"

he was sleuthing for pieces of evidence that would turn these people against his father, and when he succeeded, Karl immediately ordered his men to wipe out their houses

Laito was soon known in King's Landing as "The Destroyer of Houses"

ofc he had his fair share of trauma since Cordelia decided to take advantage of his childish feelings and used them to abuse him

Laito never understood anything abt "love" and "s**" after that

even deemed a fake pervert persona to lure in enemies and spy on them

has also become one of the House Sakamaki's most brutal killers as he doesn't give a damn abt killing those who defy them in broad daylight

even goes as far as to kill Cordelia's suitors (except for Richter)

this setup gave him trauma, to the point of refusing to be bathed by the servants (this actually made Ayato bathe him by themselves to soothe his mental pain)

there was even a time Ayato saw him scrubbing his skin multiple times that the spot turns red with few scratches

he was later imprisoned by Karlheinz in the dungeon bcos of his acts with Cordelia, with Seiji requesting he be punished by the old gods

ofc Seiji's request was turned down again since Laito is a very essential part of Karlheinz's army (even more valuable than most of his children as he holds all information about the seven kingdoms)

after all, while power is power, knowledge is a valuable asset and Laito has the traits of a perfect spy

but after Ayato was exiled, Laito took it upon himself to search for him and make a petition to bring him back since neither he nor Kanato has plans to inherit the throne

he just didn't expect his plans to backfire as one of his female attendants was a servant of the Mukami's and wanted to get revenge against Laito

while he was imprisoned at Kou's castle, he was being punished just so he would tell them where Ayato went (since Ayato was Adam and some houses are after his head)

Laito didn't tell them, which caused him plenty of wounds and scars, as well as getting his manhood cut off from him

as punishment, he was forced to spend his time in prison with Lady Christa, who was having hysterical fits every now and then bcos Laito resembled Karlheinz

since then, he threatened Kou that Subaru will come after his head

ofc there were times Christa was sane and she would become his makeshift mother, telling him stories when she was still able to hold Subaru in her arms

Laito learns later on that Kou tried asking Christa abt Subaru's whereabouts since Subaru was a feared assassin in Westeros, and if she doesn't answer, they will either kill Laito or her

so when Laito found out that they purposely poisoned Christa's food and told her to eat them as punishment, he was enraged, forcing her to spit out the food

Christa still poisoned herself as a sacrifice since Laito has to find Ayato and bring him back, leading to her early demise

and by this time, he forced himself not to cry bcos if they found out, it's like admitting defeat

he knew it was time to use the spell Kanato taught him and send Subaru a message about his mother's death

it will take a long time before he's freed from Kou's castle

he believes it will happen, and when he takes it all back

he will destroy House Mukami

STORY MASTERLIST HERE

[dr0wning-in-hell]

Sacrifice - Hope Mikaelson

Summary : Hope is always sacrificing herself for others, everyone knows that including her girlfriend, Y/N. When fighting against another unknown monster from Malivoire, Y/N jumps in front of Hope to try and protect her, but ends up with major consequences. 

Word Count : 1000

Warnings : angst, near death, crying, angry!reader, angry!hope, fluff

Prompt : “ hi!! i was wondering if you could do something angsty with hope from legacies but with a happy ending ?🥺🥺🥺 only if you can!! “ - anon

Pairing / characters : Hope Mikaelson x witch!reader, Landon, Lizzie, Josie,

A/N : This is very short with very shitty writing, I am truly sorry. I’m also sorry I haven’t posted in so long, a lot of horrible things have happened to me lately and it’s hard trying to find the motivation to write. I will be trying to post more since school is coming to an end! Hope you enjoy this small piece.

new masterlist | prompt list | color prompt list

It was an endless nightmare at the Salvatore Boarding School. Monsters were coming out of that gooey pit in Kansas left and right, leaving some of the elder students and some staff to protect the younger students. 

One student who took thins a bit too far when trying to protect the younger students was Hope Mikaelson. Everyone was aware of how protective she was over everyone, despite being so cold and hard to get to. The one who knew this best was Y/N, Hope’s best friend and girlfriend. Y/N knew that protecting the students from the never ending sea of monsters was a big deal, especially since they were so close to getting rid of everything once and for all.

The newest monster however, was a lot harder to beat than the others. Never in a million years did the students of the boarding school think they’d have to encounter a basilisk. When they first saw the creature everyone immediately thought of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. Thankfully this was real and some of the concepts from the movie were false.

Lizzie, Landon, Josie, Hope, Alaric, and Y/N were in the sewers trying to find the beast when one of the twins felt something wrap around their leg and start dragging them to God knows where. The group followed the beast, throwing rocks and casting spells in some attempt to get it stop. When it finally did they got to see how big it truly was. 

“I fucking hate snakes,” Y/N grumbled glancing at her girlfriend, who was already pulling out a vile of some potion that was supposed to kill the monster. While everyone was doing their parts to distract the snake and free one of the twins, Y/N and Hope were finishing the potion. While distracted with finishing the concoction, the snake gravitated towards Hope. 

Y/N was the closest one to her, and not wanting anything to happen to her she jumped in front of Hope. Only seconds later was Y/N trying to protect herself with any spell possible but was too late when the snake wrapped its’ tail around her legs and threw her across the sewers. Y/N’s body hit the wall with a hard thud, cracking the wall slightly. When Hope looked over she saw her girlfriend laying on the ground, a small pool of blood seeping from the crack in her head.

Hope threw the potion as Alaric and the twins finished off the Basilisk. She rushed over to Y/N who was laying motionless on the ground. Her skin was paling and the amount of blood leaving her body grew. The group made their way out of the sewers trying to keep their friend alive for as long as they could.

It had felt like forever until they reached the school, but when they finally arrived they rushed Y/N to the nurses office where Kaleb fed her his blood in order to close the wound. Alaric stitched up what was left of the wound on her head, and cleaned off the blood as they all waited to see what was going to happen. Hope was pacing back and forth next the bed Y/N was laying on, while the others went to go clean themselves up. 

Hope had tears forming in her eyes, even though no one ever saw her cry or express her emotions, they all knew how much it would break her if Y/N died. She kept mumbling things to herself, blaming Y/N’s current state on herself and not protecting her girlfriend. Little did she know that Y/N put herself in between Hope and the giant snake to protect her, just liked how she was always protecting everyone else.

It took another two hours for Y/N to finally wake up, and when she did she was tackled into a bear hug by her girlfriend.

“Why’d you do that? You could’ve gotten yourself killed!” Hope said slightly angry as she pulled away from Y/N, tears threatening to spill from her eyes as she sniffled.

Y/N groaned slightly as she sat up, an arm going to wrap around her waist. “You protect everyone all the time, Hope. I love you and I wasn’t going to lose my girlfriend so I did what I had to.” Y/N said simply. Hope shook her head as she held Y/N’s hand.

“I sacrifice myself to make sure that everyone’s lives can go on. I can heal, I can-” Hope was cut off by Y/N pressing her lips against Hope’s. 

When she pulled away she was face to face with a shocked and blushing tribrid. “And this time it was my turn to sacrifice myself to make sure you survive. I can’t live without, you know that.” Y/N said softly as she held Hope’s hand in her own, the pad of her thumb running over her hand.

Hope nodded, “I guess it was an equal trade,” she smiled softly at her girlfriend. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” Y/N nodded in response, pulling Hope into her side as the two held each other in silence until they both fell asleep in each other’s arms.

[scribbledquillz]

Stay

~~~One~~~

It is in his best interest to win her favor. The Warden is not a fickle woman, so far as Zevran is aware. Neither is he an imbicile. And only an imbecile would content themselves with the protection of something so brittle as another's mercy.

Charm and flattery will not be enough. She has not despised his attentions, much as she tries to hide her flustered stammering and the lovely bloom of color at her cheeks behind a scowl. But she has also proven herself a modest sort, and temptation will not be enough for her to welcome him into her bed. He must find another way to make himself of worth, lest she turn her blade back to his throat to grant him the end he once courted.

An opportunity comes soon enough, dressed in darkness and the scent of cheap liquor. He does not know what has shaken her so thoroughly, and truth be told he does not feel compelled to care. But the night is young, the fire is warm, and the giving of his company while sleep remains unconquered is no great sacrifice to make. He beckons her to his side with the promise of as much or as little shared between them as she wishes.

Please, he offers her.

Stay.

~~~Two~~~

The Deep Roads were meant to be his end. Had Revka not proven herself in desperate need of sense, he has no doubt they would have swallowed him whole.

She coughs and sputters from her slab of broken stone. A small, battered thing cast down among the debris of the bridge they had stood on mere moments before. He damns her as he drops to her side, and again when fingers he cannot keep from trembling fall against the arrows buried in her body. Fool, he calls her with no care for the venom it carries. Because it is the truth.

It had been his footing which faltered, his life which clung to the crumbling masonry as the darkspawn bore down upon them. The choice had been so simple. What was one wretched, ruined life to the furthering of their goal, to the promise of her own survival? Everything, she murmurs through bloodstained teeth, and it isn’t fear or anger which sees the air turned to knives in his lungs. There is no time to dwell on it now. His hands are already troublingly slick and warm as her eyes begin to flutter, the grip she keeps at his arm steady, but not strong. Words pour from his mouth as he throws himself to work, an accidental litany laid bare at her feet as he cuts away the ruined leather.

Please, he urges her.

Stay.

~~~Three~~~

His world has narrowed to this moment, existence outside of their bed of moss forgotten to heady satisfaction. For one blessed moment there is no Blight, nor demons or blackened hearts to carry on bowed shoulders. Here there is only the minute; sweat on cooling skin, the kiss of Revka’s breath at the hollow of his throat, the weight of her body against his chest. He drinks it all down with shameless greed, made a man doomed to a thirst too exquisite to ever see sated.

It will destroy him, in time. There are no gentle endings for heroes, and fewer still for the likes of such vile creatures as him. They have already tempted fate’s grace, the knotted scars beneath his palms a testament to what could - what should - have been. Soon enough this will end by her will or another’s, and he will watch as another piece of himself is carved away. Lost to the Void and leaving him with only ashen memories. Yet he knows he will not regret what he has paid.

The sublime was never meant for permanence, and Revka is no exception. He will content himself with what he is given, and offer nothing less than the gratitude she and the Maker are due for the privilege. Because to squander these moments and their fleeting divinity would be a crime even he could not bring himself to see through.

So when she finally stirs to speak of obligation, he feels no guilt in how tight his grip turns about her waist. Their work is done here, the Bracillian at peace, and their companions no worse for their absence. She sighs as he traces a thumb over reddened lips, yielding to his kiss as he speaks.

Please, he whispers to her.

Stay.

~~~Four~~~

He will never wash this blood from his hands.

Taliesen is dead. His partner, his friend, his lover, his past. Dead, along with the last shattered piece of the man he once knew himself to be. And he feels nothing. No regret. No guilt. Nothing, save the numb, aching certainty that he has done what was needed.

He does not know how long they have sat here on this bed, or where, precisely, Revka has taken him. Away, which is all that is of consequence. Hidden someplace far from leering eyes, that does not reek of death and wicked trechery. That alone is a kindness more than he deserves.

She has not moved from his side, the weight and warmth of her presence, of her fingers woven between his staving off the worst of the ice building in his chest. Ever his silent, watchful Warden - his light within the shadows, his harbor in the storm. Without her here he knows he would fall, and this time there would be no return from that looming, frigid darkness.

Please, he begs her as salt and loss tear at his throat.

Stay.

~~~Five~~~

He cannot lie to himself any longer. Can no longer pretend every moment spent in the comfort of her company does not come with the pain of an end he does not yet see. And that is the trouble of it, isn’t it? The thought that each night spent beside her, every kiss or glancing touch might very well be their last. He has tried - sweet Andraste, he has tried - to keep his hold of these pleasures slacked. Reminded himself countless nights of the unspoken promises he made to her, to himself, to the Maker, to take only what was given freely and dare not dream of something more.

But his heart has never been a loyal beast, its refusal to cease its beating all those months ago born of the same stubbornness which rails against him now. It makes traitors of his hands. Turns them to talons and sinks them deeper into the want of her with every effort made to draw himself away.

He does not wish to fight this any longer. What he feels… there are no words for what he feels. Not yet, when there is still so much of himself he had thought long dead struggling to take back its breath. So he does not offer them.

The earring gleams within his outstretched palm, flickered candlelight glinting against gold to match the unsteady beating of the heart which drove him here. He gives both to Revka freely, and knows no matter her answer they will always belong to her. As they already do.

Please, he asks her in silence, once more left bare to her mercy.

Stay.

~~~Six~~~

The golden ring at Revka’s ear sparks with the light of a hundred fires as she turns back to him across the battlement. Around them the world is ending, filled with the stench of blood and taint and smoke. The Archdemon shrieks in its agony and rage, felled but no less deadly as it snaps a wicked maw and flails claw and tail and body against the poor souls within its reach.

In an instant he has forgotten their talk of miracles. What spell cast by mortal hands - no matter their talent, no matter their conviction - could hold against the sheer brutality of such corruption? He reaches out to her unthinking, as though his will alone would close the distance in time, the same heart he has only just given turned to a stone fist within his chest. And she smiles. A brittle, sorrowful thing broken under the weight of what has been left to the whims of the Maker and his fates. Her lips tremble, mouth stumbling over words he never thought to see spoken, and the same stone heart crashes against his ribs.

I love you.

And she is gone. A blur of Warden silver and blue, the flash of brilliant steel. He cannot move, cannot tear his eyes from what will surely be the end he has feared for so long. The Archdemon rears its monstrous head, hate and death burning in black eyes as she throws herself between the world and an unending Void.

Please.

Her blades strike true, the monster screaming as a brilliant beam of light swallows the both of them whole.

Please.

He is on his knees, thrown back by the force of the light or the fear burning through every inch of his flesh, scalding his soul.

Please, he prays as he drowns in the agonizing unknown, as he crawls toward the faint shape of her form upon the stone.

Stay.

[caughtbyyou]

Superstitions, Prequel

Intended as a prequel to the following fic:

This was written probably three years ago, but was stashed with my drafts for the longest time...

This is an alternate universe.

In the lowest levels of Yunmeng Jiang, amidst its old foundations, is an enclosure fenced off with several walls of suppressing spells and arrays.

Every year, representatives of the different sects accompany a cultivator from the Meishan Yu clan to check if the seals are all in place, their own armies in waiting for a battle that everyone hopes will never happen, but needs to be prepared for.

They were scared of their vengeance, and rightfully so -- it was that same vengeance that turned the tides in their favor in the Sunshot Campaign, that was nothing short of cruel and ferocious.

And naturally after the war, everyone banded against the next greatest threat.

But unlike the Wens, it was far easier to subdue the Twin Prides of Yunmeng -- they simply had to hold the Maiden Jiang hostage, and make sure that she didn't hurt herself while they dealt with the bloodthirsty duo.

There was no better place to suppress them than in the home that they had just rebuilt from the ruins; they had just finished preparing all the necessary soul calming rituals for the souls that had died within its walls, and now it was going to be used on them.

And they were going to need it, given the messy way their 'confinement' was dealt with.

Of course, they resisted surrendering their weapons. Of course, someone thought that the next course of action was to cut off the body parts those weapons were attached to.

At some point, their guards thought that it was better to strike while they were unarmed, in several senses of the word.

What a struggle it was. They became less human and more monster with the desperation that they fought back with, validating their assumptions of them.

And soon, it was quiet. The remains were collected immediately, the ghost flute and lightning ring separated. Word was sent out.

Then the world rejoiced, save for a handful of souls, their cries drowned out by the shouts of victory.

Maiden Jiang was found dead in confinement, a makeshift noose of her scarves and clothes around her neck, bloodied, broken hairpins littering the floor around her. The Jin sect was held accountable for her untimely demise, but ultimately all they could do was to put the sister with her brothers, while the suppressing arrays were still being made for the Twin Heroes.

The heaviness of the resentment could almost rival that of the Burial Mounds. Several suppressing arrays were added on top of the many many arrays and spells already planned.

And history was rewritten as follows;

The Sunshot Campaign was won with the revived Yunmeng Jiang, who then conspired to take over the world with their demonic cultivation and inhumane methods. Their sister, then betrothed to the Jin sect, tried to appeal to them, to no avail.

They punished her as a blood traitor, but her sacrifice bought enough time for all the sects to gather their power one more time, and put a stop to the madness of the Twin Prides once and for all.

The world seemed satisfied with this, and slept soundly in their beds.

But those in Yunmeng knew that the pieces did not fit the puzzle, though they knew better than to openly question those in power; they already set an example with their own Twin Prides.

All they could do was offer prayers.

One for the sister, deprived of her family at the last moment, when she only wanted to be with them;

One for the older brother, who defied death to return to his brother's side, deprived of the comfort of his home;

One for the younger brother, who carried the burden of rebuilding the home they had lost to the sun, deprived of the chance to protect it to the end;

Eventually, the reasons for these prayers changed as decades passed, but the people of Yunmeng never forgot.

There are three gods in Yunmeng, but no one really knows where they came from.

And the world will beg for their forgiveness.

[thecagedsong]

Forgotten Light Chapter 15: Translation

A/N: Another short one, but I’m at a bit of a crux here. Tess and Knox have their own adventures at Fablehaven, and technically their stories come next chronologically, but it might be fun to leave their stories a secret for y’all to try and guess at until the end and then have their stories be bonus chapters. I think I’ll do that unless you guys tell me that Kendra and Seth’s stories fall apart without their cousins. Have fun guessing!

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15

Chapter 15: Translation

Kendra made herself try to sleep, and woke up the next morning with the same question. Bracken or Ronodin. Who to believe? What did she owe the Kendra she had been? That girl hadn’t even kept a journal apparently, otherwise Ronodin would have offered it to her to help with her memory loss. Unless Ronodin was lying about everything, and purposefully keeping her from her past self.

What she needed was information. And a place to store it all. One that Ronodin couldn’t touch.

Locks. She had the power to create magical items, why not magical locks? Kendra hurried to the library and scoured her reference books. There was one chapter on creating seals, that would have to do. She read it and re-read it, then gathered together the thick paper Ronodin had gotten her for painting, and tore the plain back covers off two of the books she couldn’t read.

 “Sorry,” she apologized to the books. She used needle and thread from her sewing materials to bind everything together. As she cut and sewed, she followed the instructions from her books and focused on what she wanted protected and contained. No eyes to read it, only hers, and repel everyone else. Magic in her hands. Mendigo, Bracken, Ronodin, and Seth and the dragon people, everyone. This was for her eyes alone. They could not touch it and would be repelled back.

On the cover of her make-shift journal she painted the seal she wanted, as suggested by the book, in paint made with Sphinx blood. Sphinxes were protectors, and attacked any who couldn’t pass their riddles, hopefully the blood of those determined guardians would lend its strength to protecting her secrets.

And the final part of a seal: the sacrifice. Of all the suggested sacrifices, the only one she felt comfortable giving was a little bit of her own blood. Picking up a fresh needle from the pack, she stabbed her forearm over a vein, and squeezed out a couple of drops. The book seemed to glow for a second, then was back to being an unskilled crafts project.

“Mendigo, come here,” Kendra called. Mendigo entered and she placed the journal on the couch and stepped away. “Open that book, please.”

Mendigo strode forward and reached for the book, but his fingers hovers an inch from surface, just like she wanted. His wooden body leaned forward, and a second hand joined the first.

 “Perfect, you can stop now,” Kendra said, smiling, “Go back to guarding the door, please.”

Mendigo left. Kendra opened the book and immediately started writing the things she knew. Then came the list of things she doubted because they came from only one source or were contradicted by someone else. Then she listed out her goals.

1.      See the sunlight/outside/anywhere but here

2.      Learn more information herself/her family/her host/Ronodin/Bracken

It felt like she should have at least three goals, but those were pretty much the most important, and it took her a while to decide on the third one.

3.      Develop magical arts and crafts

Unlike the curse medallions, which she felt unsure about, she liked her new journal. It didn’t hurt anyone, but was still useful and something she made. It was something that was all hers. Kendra would learn everything she could, and make what she could, without picking a side for now.

She tried to list out plans for achieving the goals, but besides do more crafting, she was stuck.

What she really needed was more information, that one should have been first in terms of necessity instead of wants. And if her goal was to learn more, then the best place for that was the library.

Except she had skimmed through all nine books she could actually read in the library, and torn through all the reference books for her crafting that Ronodin had brought her, and read thoroughly two of the books already. She now knew a lot more about the Fair Folk and Shadow Charmers, but the rest of the books weren’t much help. Two were potions books, four were dictionaries used for translating languages of the books on the other shelves, and the final book she hadn’t read deeply was a magical creature encyclopedia, but only the P’s.

She could either educate herself on all magical creatures starting with P (even though she had already skimmed through for the interesting entries) dedicate herself to translating the foreign languages using the dictionary, or focus on finding information elsewhere. It’s not like she had google translate down here.

Kendra paused. No…she might not have google translate, but maybe she could make something that worked like a translator?

Kendera went through her craft references again, scouring for anything that give her clues for translation magic. There was a footnote that said it was common curtesy to leave multiple translations of the conditions of a curse at curse sites in order to make them stick better. Too many unknowns about a curse actually made it weaker, since you can’t have an unbreakable spell. Then she got caught up in the theory sections.

What made the symbols in the book powerful was the faith and belief that people had that those symbols did have power. Cultures long dead, cultures currently, practitioners of the magic arts didn’t like to acknowledge that their spell designs worked primarily because everyone involved believed that it worked, allowing it to be a conduit for magic, but that was a reality of their trade.

Which meant that it didn’t matter if Kendra didn’t have a symbol in Ronodin’s glossary. If she believed in the symbol herself, it would function similarly, if not better.

At least, that’s what she thought that it said. She didn’t know how well it would work, because with her past an absolute mystery, Kendra had no idea what to believe in, or if she had believed in anything, ever. But it was a start.

She knew things, she just didn’t know how she knew about them. Grabbing a clean piece of paper, she started listing things that she associated with translating, not letting herself question the associations. Eyes. Glasses. Crystals. Crystals were also connected to knowing for some reason. Dictionaries. Google. Owls.

Kendra stopped. What if she carved a monocle, kind of like how she would carve an amulet? No crystals around…though maybe there was something in the jewelry box she hadn’t touched? How do monocles stay on people’s faces anyway? No better something like a magnifying glass without the glass. Just a magic space that would change the words from the languages surrounding her into English. Papering the handle with pages from those dictionaries would help. From the first and last pages, so the eyeglass would know everything in between. That should work…

Kendra started sketching her designs and plans in her journal. She eventually fell asleep when her eyes started to blur, then woke up again. She showered, ate, then got back at her research, finally starting to carve. She hid her journal away, sideways behind some of the larger, more incomprehensible tomes. It felt good to have secrets, things only she knows, things only she can do. Ronodin certainly had plenty of secrets himself, and when he eventually came back, he would either let her keep her secrets, or she would believe Bracken by default.

It felt good to have plans.

[lukeios]

The plot holes of Eldarya

Hello wonderful people of Eldarya fandom! Along with some other players we have prepared a little something for you: The list of all the plot holes in the first season of Eldarya. 

The list has over 2000 words in total. I am so, so proud of us and I would love to give special thanks to @aokane-eldarya who wrote probably over 1/3 of this by herself! Everyone who participated is tagged, so make sure you check out their blogs! 

And of course, before we start: this is not an attack on Beemoov - it’s merely a critic of their writers. More under the cut. 

@kyriechristeeleison

- Chrome surviving Leiftan's attack. Leiftan isn't an amateur killer and wouldn't let him stay alive.

- Game said Leiftan never kills children and yet the next episode he tries to kill Chrome.

- Chrome saying he contacted Leiftan, event though the other episode informed us he "summoned" him. 

@cintanna-rants

- A plot hole between Valkyon's spin-off and the game. In the spin-off, he dreams about his mother even though in the game he couldn't have seen her at that point. 

- During the Leiftan & Erika vs Lance fight in the last chapter, Lance acts like he thinks Erika is just a simple human, yet in chapter 26 he fainted precisely because he discovered she was an aengel and thought he knew why Leiftan wanted her.

- Leiftan “sacrifices” to tell Valkyon about Lance’s weakness (a neck injury). None of this is mentioned in the last battle nor ever again. Why did Leiftan sacrifice for then? What was the point of making him betray his pact with Lance and risk his life if that info doesn’t matter? 

@aokane-eldarya

- Leiftan threatens Lance to kill him, as well as all the other members of his race, if he hurts Erika: not only does he do nothing when Lance kidnaps Erika (while we have the proof in episode 30 that Leiftan is still able to subdue Lance), but Valkyon is the only other dragon in existence.

- By extension, he didn't react as expected (if we refer to his personality) to the story of the potion.

- Leiftan who is the demon of the crystal: he was able to act normally while having a part of his mind threatening the Oracle, which is absurd (nonrespect of the principle of the cost of use of magic ). During his imprisonment, Miiko talks about the fact that the corruption stopped suddenly and Leif explains that he stopped because Erika suffered from it. If Leiftan had had the power to stop the corruption caused by the Naytili crystal (and therefore, by someone other than him), he would have done it immediately since he knew from the start why she was suffering. In any case, it was not Leiftan who stopped corruption, it was the use of the Fenghuang flute.

- Leiftan tells Erika that he did it all for her. But the fact is that he started acting before Erika arrived on Eldarya and she doesn't think it's strange. 

- In the spin-off, Leiftan says he will respect that Erika doesn't follow him, suggesting that he will pursue his goal. In the end, as soon as Erika holds it against him, he decides to abandon his projects and accept his "mistakes". The funny thing is that it's been weeks, even months that we know what Erika thinks, he could have given up before.

- Episode 30, the "Lance VS Erika and Leiftan" confrontation. The writing suggests that Lance doesn't know Erika's race, which is wrong. It will also be noted that Lance didn't think of using the dragon spell that had allowed him to imprison Leiftan the time he came to destroy the crystal.

- In episode 15, the history teacher tells us that the daemons refused to sacrifice themselves.

- Then thanks to Fafnir, we learn that, in reality, Lilith and her supporters were for the sacrifice, Dagon and his supporters were against; they killed each other.

- Episode 30, Erika says that she and Leif must sacrifice themselves because their ancestors refused to sacrifice themselves.

- It will also be noted that hundreds of dragons sacrificed themselves for the Blue Sacrifice, but that it lacked just the equivalent of a daemon / aengel for the vegetables to be nutritious.

- Erika who doesn't remember that Dagon was one of the daemons invoked by Naytili

- Leiftan had a redemption. When he died, there was a white feather. Leiftan should have fought with his angelic aspect and not only with his demonic aspect.

- Depending on the situation, the terms aengel and daemon are used either to denote the same thing or to denote two different things.

- Lance refers to Erika and Leiftan by saying "the aengel and the daemon", even when Erika says to her "I am a daemon".

- Ezarel fights with a foil, a training weapon that cannot hurt. He uses it as thrusting and cutting weapon whereas it is only a thrusting weapon.

- The Guard sends civilians to unprotected villages; Lance just had to go there to use them as leverage.

- Lance, who is experienced, attacks by arriving by sea, a disadvantageous position because exposed, to arrive on a beach in a basin with only one narrow exit, with then the optic of crossing a meadow also exposed. The Guard decided it would be funnier if it got stuck on the beach itself.

- Lance is ready to negotiate: he agrees to allow the Guard to evacuate the faerys on Earth (The same faerys he wants to destroy). The famous faerys which are not there because evacuated in the villages. It will also be noted that suddenly the total population of Eldarya is reduced to only the inhabitants of the Guard.

- Lance donated ingredients for two gates: two gates to evacuate hundreds of people. I thought it was too expensive per person.

- Lance sent Enthraa, a mermaid who can't get out of the water, to kill Erika and Miiko ; Erika and Miiko thought it would be a good idea to be within the range of Enthraa.

- In episode 30, the hamadryads meet around the ancient tree of Yvoni. The same tree that had burned and the remains of which had been removed.

- One day, Leiftan and Lance released a monster who swallowed all the knowledge of the library. We still don't know why.

- Everyone knows that the dragons have sacrificed themselves. Even Lance. It was while reading books in the library that his hatred developed, suggesting that there is information that we don't have about the Blue Sacrifice. We still don't know this info: Lance just seems to blame the faeries for letting the dragons sacrifice themselves, nothing else.

- How did Lance and Leiftan become partners? We don't know. Why does Leif say that without him Lance is nothing? We don't know.

- How did Ykhar know that Leiftan was a traitor? Where did the hostage go?

- Ykhar and Chrome who tell an experienced killer that they are going to report him.

- Chrome who says that Leiftan manipulated him to join him whereas, in a previous episode, Leiftan reminds Chrome that it was he who called him.

- Some members of the Guard speak several languages, but no one can read the instructions on a package of pasta. And since Erika seems to have no idea where the language is located, it must be a package of alien pasta.

- Ewelein was to give us a gift. We are still waiting.

- The faerys had recent humans books, like Twilight. Ykhar didn't know what television was: yet, her favorite book was Barjavel's " The Night of Time", in which we talk about television.

- Oluhua said that it was not possible to use Leiftan's blood to transfuse Feng Zifu, without explaining why. She was not on Leiftan's list of traitors, so we still don't know what Oluhua knows.

- Miiko announces to us that there is a ritual acting as a lie detector. She must have forgotten its existence when she had to find the traitors of the Guard.

- Erika learned to understand the familiars. She quickly forgot about it.

- Erika is described as a high school student in the CGU. In the story, she is around 23-24 years old since she finished her studies.

- the Guard claimed to be able to detect dragons. Lance and Valkyon are proof that this is not true.

-  Nevra, as a vampire, is able to smell blood from a small cut. Her sister was unable to smell the blood in Ykhar’s room.

@lukeios

- (Death TW) Ykhar's death and her body looking pale after 2-3 days in the room. Total disregard for research. The body should be in stage 2 of decomposition.  

- The clothing and armors. Dressing a warrior into an armor that shows stomach - the most vulnerable part of the body - is somehow inappropriate, even for a fantasy setting. If they had other clothing used for battles OR the game would be pure fanservice - it would be ok.

- For some reason Lance's sword from The winter illustration seems like too much. It looks too broad, like a piece of a metal wall. It doesn't seem like it would be useful in a fight - it seems way too hard to use that thing than it would be necessary. Mind you - if something like this is happening in a fantasy setting, an explanation is mandatory. Is the sword extremely light? Is it made of a material that is changing shape? This point isn't exactly only about the sword. Beemoov keeps on throwing things at us without a proper explanation and if the explanation is even present, it's not explored enough. 

- Our pet is killed in episode 30. Does it change anything in the page section of pets? Is the exploration frozen? I don't think so. 

@waywardpeachworld

- Stealing food from Earth for many years without a way to preserve it. Not making a connection with any humans because "they are evil".

- Miiko told the MC there are humans in Eldarya who are searching for her. Where did they go?

- The potion fiasco. What happened to all the photos of the MC? Aren't her parents wondering "who is this girl who looks like us?" in the albums?   (according to an anon, the potion was able to erase any proof of her existence on Earth. No photos were left. Thanks, Anon! )

-They can make very powerful potions that literally erase somebody from the memory of everyone who had known them in a different realm but still cannot make a “potion” to preserve the crops they steal. 

- Ez's crimes were mentioned once and never again. This information seemed too important to just be left alone.

@glassmoonfortuneteller

- How at the beginning of the game, they mentioned us several times Erika’s special eye color (purple with golden light) and how this was an important clue to know what kind of faelienne she is. It’s never mentioned again even after we found out she’s an aengel. Apparently it wasn’t that relevant.

- How the guard has a portal to Earth near the HQ facilities but Erika never seemed interested in it to go and see it for herself since she arrived at Eldarya, especially since she was determined to know everything about the portals when she still had hope of going back to her world during the first episodes.

- When Lance kidnapped Erika, she finds out Enthraa is a traitor and that she’s working for him. After she’s rescued and goes back to the HQ, she doesn’t say this to the other members. They found out about it only when Enthraa ambushed Erika and Miiko in later episodes and gets killed.

- How food was rationed and limited at the beginning of the game, but in later episodes this doesn’t seem to be a problem anymore.

- How Lance said he found out about the sacrifice of the dragons in the library archives, but during Erika’s history classes in the HQ they said there weren’t any records about the blue sacrifice and all they knew was passed down through generations through oral traditions and tales. If that’s true, then Lance and Valkyon would have known about it since they were kids with adults telling them about the stories of the creation of Eldarya.

- What happened to Marie Anne after she was captured and purified of the faerie blood? She’s not mentioned again after that.

- Humans in Eldarya were mentioned once, and that’s it.

- How Erika is characterized as a very kind and empathic person but didn’t seem affected when she found out Ykhar was killed.

- How Leiftan was the one who killed Ykhar since he was with Erika and the other guard members in Memoria the whole time.

- Alajea’s fear of water is not a thing anymore.

- Why Erika took Valkyon leaving with Lance as a betrayal, she was right there when that happened and saw that he did it to protect her. 

@nelielombrelune

- Miko told us dragon’s ingrédients were necessary to open portals, but later she finally said those weren’t really “dragon” stuff but they called it like this because, you know, everything there is a mess.

- Humans were supposed to be a threat on Eldarya (Miiko mentioned secret societies like Illuminatis, Templars or Freemasons but we’ve never heard about them anymore)

- There is no real food in Eldarya and the Guard has to open portals to Earth to steal foodstuffs for Eels survival. They don’t know how to cook and eat raw pasta in the firsts episodes but a few episodes later they throw tea-parties where Karuto & Erika bakes crepes and cakes. 

- In episode 20, Leiftan says he's been waiting for Erika for years. Except that he does not seem to know who she is, nor her species or where she comes from, how she came here, nor her connection to the Oracle...

- When we’re in Ashkore PoV he said his ancestors killed the daemons

- Once upon a time we had to choose a “job” (infirmary, library, and I don’t remember the third one), but we never hear about it in the next episodes.

- On the illustration where Leiftan saves Erika from falling off the cliff, his wings are white, he’s got only 2 and his horns have disappeared 

- In episode 30 Lance calls Erika “the human” though he knows she’s an aengel

- What about the war ? Lance killed his brother, Erika and Leiftan sacrificed themselves and then what ? Did Lance just leave after all the time he tried to destroy Eldarya ?

- “In episode 29 Miiko (I think it was her) says that they will have enough water for everyone because they filter rainwater but in episode 19 someone has said that it barely rains in Eldarya...”

@momiyi-chan

- Three enemies of Eldarya (Triades, Illuminati, and Templars) are mentioned but never make any appearance. It is said the Templars are trying to get MC to rescue her. Where are they?

- Until episode 20 the Guard was looking for the pieces of the crystal, that were scattered on Eldarya. That was never mentioned again. Crystal became irrelevant.

- Who taught Naytili to corrupt the crystals? Leiftan and Lance were very interested in learning that skill, but it was never touched again.

@hsakurausasuke

- Mary Anne is still rooting in prison. It's like she disappeared.

@velleitxs

- Erica cannot decide if she is an aengel or a human with the blood of an aengel

@susymei 

- Episode 15, we never learned the consequences of telling or not telling the Guard, that Ashkore was stealing food in the HQ. 

- Ashkore doesn’t kill Huang Hua because Erica likes her, and yet he wants to kill her few episodes later. 

- Episode 26. We can kind of flirt with Lance. There is some tension on the cliff (if you pick right choices) and he protects us from the heat of the volcano. The episodes afterward completely forgot about those choices - it’s like Episode 26 never happened. 

@valethari

- The episode in which Gardienne becomes a mermaid to go back from the Kappa Island to the HQ: She almost drowns and her S/O saves her and carries her up the stairs to the infirmary effortlessly and princess-style. When Colaïa was the one in the dungeon and Karen, Alajéa and Gardienne tried to bring her to the sea again, they said she was SO heavy because her tail is pure muscle, and between THREE people they had a lot of trouble carrying her.

Well, that was pretty long! Thank you for reading all of those! Have a nice weekend guys and stay healthy <3