light caster

Fairy Tail Character’s Magic and Spells

This here is a giant glossary of every magic and spell a character has used in the canon of Fairy Tail 

Keep reading


oh gee, light farming time again (if anyone even light farms in SB????). Good news is: this is my last anima, UNLESS I suddenly feel the urge to level Paladin in which that blue-flamed sword and shield will be miiiiiine. 

Canopus Lux pls be mine. 

OH ALSO I guess let this be the update post on getting Astro to 70. It was slow at first and wasn’t liking healing too much but when I got to Bardam’s mettle everything was great again. Up next is…. White Mage! incoming screenies in 3… 2… 


              Emilia Talise Holt
Priestess of Holy Light & Librarian

At a Glance -
 Available in game, through tumblr and on discord.
 Alignment: Lawful/Neutral Good
 Face Claim: Anna Speckhart
 Age: 19
 Hair: Dark brown/black
 Eyes: Sky blue
 Height: 5′7″
 Family: Sisters Cordelia & Aylin Holt
      @cordeliaeresholt & @feathers-of-a-dove
 Can be found: In the Cathedral, Cathedral Square, Stormwind Cemetery or the woods of Elywnn.

  Spending the last nine years stowed away in Hearthglen she has recently returned to Stormwind in search of answers and seeking to serve. A talented caster of Light magics, she is a citizen-healer and animal mender. She serves as the Librarian for the Cathedral’s extensive collection the last couple months, those who may have visited this quiet place may know her face or the sound of her soft singing, a bad habit she is yet to break. 

  When not at work, in the stacks, she steals away to her small boarding room above the Square. Her most precious possession, an antique harp sweetly cooing from her room. She also collect critters and creatures. Mice, rats, birds, squirrels and other small animals that may need help or care. She provides a home in her tiny room until they are able to run free again. She offers self-taught and Light-based Veterinary services to injured and sick pets should it be needed. Though people are who she trained to heal, committed to the Virtues of Light wholly and following of their teachings she seeks to offer service with a loving and honest heart. 

  She is a free spirit, despite her strict upbringing. Well versed in etiquette and modesty, her soul is attached to nature. She often slips away from the stone of Stormwind and the propriety of polite society to walk in the woods, grass under her barefeet and play in the streams, offering her skin to the warmth of the sun. She is a tall and lovely woman, a slight tone to her form but with the delicate and sloping curves of a classic feminine form. Long dark hair is slightly unruly with a natural curl. Her pale blue eyes are quite striking in contrast to her tanned skin. 

  Baring the House name Holt, she is seeking those of her name, specifically her sisters having been separated for nearly a decade. The reasons and circumstances for her removal from society are shrouded in mystery and mostly unknown. She is however the rightful daughter of Avren and Gaele Holt, grand-daughter of Daren and Talise Holt. She has learned as much from records she has researched but remains unsure how to contact those who would be family. 



‘If my consciousness were downloaded to a computer and I had that amount of power and that amount of control over world events…’

This is why I love this man. He’s saying this is what he would do if he could, yet he doesn’t realize that he does do those things for so many people. He’s made everyone laugh more; brought a little more light to their lives. He’s taught us about acceptance of others no matter how different they or their beliefs are from us and ours. You don’t need transcendence, Johnny. You just need to keep being the strong force of light that you are.

Songs of the Outsider

*I recently just finished my first play-through of dishonored and I started writing this which turned into a whole thing. Thank you pathopharmacology and dunwall for getting me hooked on the franchise before I even played it. I kinda had the ‘What do we do with a drunken whaler’ in my head as I doodled this, but I was never much good at poems.

Bring me the eyes of an ailing whaler
Bring me the tongue of a lying sailor,                                      
Bring me the thumbs of a hated jailer,                                                  
In the month of Nets.                                                      

Bring me the hands of a hired killer,                                              
Bring me the pain of an idle miller,                                                    
Bring me the mirth of an old-grave digger,                                        
In the month of Winds.

Bring me the song of an Overseer,                                                  
Bring me the ears of a mystic healer,                                                
Bring me a rune from off my bier,                                                          
In the month of Darkness

Bring me the mind of an arch-light caster,                                      
Bring me the scalp of the ex Spymaster,                                        
Bring me the faith of an aging pastor,                                                
In the month Clans.

Bring me the smile of a fledgling empress,                                        
Bring me the skin of a sultry temptress,                                            
Bring me the might of a raging tempest,                                          
In the month of Songs.

Now bring me a mask for the Lord Protector,                                  
The stealth and skill of a charm collector,                                      
The long black coat of a vengeful spectre,                                      
Death has come to Dunwall.

Then bring me a blade for the dying Daud,
The lamentation that he has vowed,                                            
Will do naught to lift his shroud,                                        
For Death has come to Dunwall.

Fourscore rats, and satin red,                                                             
A plague to take away your dead,                                                        
Let Granny sing you off to bed,                                                    
Oh Dearie….Dearie…me.