#sorryyyy I went a little overboard | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

outeremissary · 1 year

Note

How about Fire Emblem Awakening for the fandom ask game? 👀

Favorite Male Character

Easy! That's Henry, my most beloved favorite guy, my first video game wife, my silly rabbit, etc. I love that little dude! Obviously he has an absolutely S tier character design, which I shall include for the convenience of everyone who hasn't seen him before and so everyone can have a good chuckle at how absolutely predictable I am. I don't even have coherent Henry thoughts it's just like. Turning that guy around in my head like a doner kebab, y'know? But also I love that he's so cheerful, I love that he smiles even when it isn't genuine at all, I love his absolute detachment from social norms (and morality), I think it rules that he's always drenched in blood and hanging out with the dead... I just think he has a wonderful innocence that's greatly enhanced by that dash of darkness. The crow puns are also 11/10!!! And of course. A man wearing a skirt with a cape covered in eyes. AND it's all purple and gold. And also has those big loose sleeves- look, it's like he was made specifically for me!! And then the little hand thing at the end of the sleeves... Godddd he's perfect. I'm sorry Ash like I said this is INCOHERENT

[Image ID: A white haired young man in a grey shirt and dark leggings. He wears a short purple wrap skirt around the leggings. A wide purple lined black cloak billows behind him, six golden eyes adorning the collar. He smiles cheerfully and extends a hand above his head to a crow.]

Honorable mentions are Owain (I love chuuni characters...), Ricken (who has the cutest little wizard outfit), and Libra (no one say anything. I already know.)

Favorite Female Character

I made the mistake of cracking open the artbook to help me choose when writing this up and immediately had a list of like a dozen ladies who I think are all the best. This game is hell for that. Henry is so easy but the female characters... jeez. I think I'm going to commit to Maribelle! For one thing Maribelle canon sapphic IntSys can fight me. I know the truth. But also, I like that Maribelle is very assertive despite being a person who isn't a fighter, and her commitment to justice is admirable. She's got a strong spirit and always stands up for what she believes in. I'm very fond of her! She and Lissa should have been able to marry. Why can't they get married, IntSys? Why is that, why are you keeping her down

Honorable mentions: Cynthia (chuuni!!!), Tiki (ancient dragon lady who has outlived all her friends gives me many thoughts. also hot), Say'ri (another great story character), Cherche (pretty lady with big axe and dragon makes brain go brrr), Flavia (another cool fighter lady. wow), Anna (the goddess of random numbers), and of course Lissa (Lissa)

Least Favorite Character

Tharja. It's Tharja. This is easy. My least favorite is Tharja. She does have some funny supports, but I just thinks she's overall uncomfortable to be around and I dislike her overtly sexual design, which kind of presaged a lot of things in Fates I dislike. I find her a very uncompelling yandere and everything with Noire is also uncomfortable. I think it's a damn shame that she was one of the most popular female characters in the game and thus she got carried through so much other stuff.

Honorable mention: Cordelia. I don't find her pining for Chrom forever thing or her being literally perfect thing interesting. Also a vaguely uncomfortable character in some ways, but not at all as bad and Severa rules so hey. Makes up for it.

Favorite Ship

Well, when I was in high school I was a serious Henricken guy! I don't really know why, honestly. I think it was just a "these are my two favorite characters, I want to see them together." As a mature adult, allow me to say: Libra and Lon'qu is the pinnacle. I mean. All Libra ships are 11/10, that's Libra's nature, but I feel like that's something that I've seen so much compelling stuff about for years.

On the sapphic side of things, Say'ri and Tiki are obviously just married and I love that for them. The devoted warrior and the immortal dragon she protects... it's amazing. I also really love Severa and Lucina! Severa is just a fantastic character in general, and I love the initial tension between Lucina as the principled warrior and Severa, who's committed to spurning her duties (but is devoted deep down). I feel like these are like, two of the most typical possible picks. But like. They're amazing, you know?

And if you asked me to pick an m/f, since I am seeing that I've not done that, Cynthia and Morgan. It's cute :)

There are so many characters with good chemistry, I know that I cheated badly here ^^;; But like. It's all so good!!!

Favorite Friendship

The Justice Cabal!!! Which is to say, everything between Owain, Morgan, and Cynthia. I love that they're all just little weirdos and I love the idea of them hanging out being little weirdos together. Morgan isn't a chuuni but they're chuuni adjacent... the weirdgirl energy in a room containing all three of them must be off the charts. I love it.

I'm also a huge fan of platonic Chrom and female Robin. QPR Chrobin is the way... And I think there's also something really beautiful about Chrom doing so much for a woman he loved and valued as a friend, and that being as powerful as if she was a romantic paramour.

Favorite Quote

Uh besides everything that comes out of Owain's mouth? Or Henry's... Well, I'd say that because I'm incredibly cheesy, it's that "Welcome back." at the very end.

Worst Character Death (if any)

It's been a looooong time since I last played Awakening so obviously I'm going to give you the most absolutely basic answer ever: Emmeryn's death. I just think it's a really good dramatic moment, and it's a place where that false choice works. It's good characterization for Robin and it's also so fitting that it doesn't do anything at all. Emmeryn's sacrifice is only in her own hands. It's painful to watch. I like the way it echoes through the rest of the pre-time skip stuff, and it's such a heart breaking touch to see sage Lissa's clothing.

Of course, it's also the worst death because the paralogue that brings her back cheapens the hell out of it for no real narrative reason and there really isn't anything the story has to do with her, unlike the enemies that can be rescued or Robin. If any one character should have stayed dead, it should have been Emmeryn.

This made me so happy you have no idea Moment

Okay time to come out and say I'm one of the five people who actually loves the end of Awakening. I KNOW people say it makes the sacrifice feel cheap. And it does, objectively. But ALSO. Do you know how happy it made me at fifteen?! You have no idea. I actually cried seeing that mirrored scene at the ending. I'm a sucker for when it all comes around. And like... the hope of that ending is also really great. It may have been a graver and more real game if those consequences really had been what they seemed, but I do love the miracle of breaking the cycle.

Saddest Moment

I've already touched on Emmeryn's sacrifice and Robin's sacrifice... hmm. I'd say that it's learning about the choice between sealing Grima temporarily and destroying him forever. When the hero learns they need to die for the greater good, that's something that always sends a pang through my heart. And the buildup to either saving themself (what Chrom wants and is so willing to support!) or becoming a martyr is, well, really good. I'm remembering it through the eyes of someone who found it very fresh, I suppose. Along with that is Lucina's assassination attempt. I mean, that's just tragic. She's right to want to kill you, but she'll never be able to do it.

Favorite Location

Either the Mila Tree or Mount Prism- I love verdant places filled with light and water. Both maps feel so soothing. They also feel so far apart from the ordinary world... it's humbling, in a way. Wonderful.

(buuuuut also Grima's back. I love that dragon man)

#sorryyyy I went a little overboard #I reallyyyyy loved awakening as a teen if you can't tell #and I actually used to do a ton of awakening fan art!#alas it is all in the limbo of my parents' house now #ask me emithing #ask game #coherency is so low here because I haven't played it in years but my love is strong and I have a book with all supports in it #as well as all situational dialogue and battle quotes #thank u for my life awakening artbook #turbulentpumpkin43

12 notes · View notes

melanodis · 4 months

Text

art trade with @lynn-works-at-culvers !!!

no gradient map

#sorryyyy i went a little overboard but i had a lot of fun #i also should've asked if you wanted to do full bodies or what have you augghhh #i'll redraw it though !#william afton #five nights at freddy's #art.psd

61 notes · View notes

evanox · 2 years

Note

Hello! I love your stories about last legacy, and I take advantage of the fact that the requests are open I want to give one, basically some platonic headcanons of sage and tulsi with a reader who took care of them as children and was like their mother / father figure during their youth, thanks in advance and thanks!

I'M SORRYYYY I'm so sorry this took so long but I loved the req sm I def went a little overboard with it... I hope at least it is worth the wait!! Also big thanks to Zeke again for beta reading and helping brainstorm stuff <33

Also I've written the reader to be a baker bc Sage did mention in ch2 that the street bakers were some of few people who looked upon him and the other kids with a little kindness and I thought it was v sweet

m.list

'Wharf rats,' the people had called them: a group of homeless kids who made a home out of Porrima's docks, and every day they would venture deeper into the city to hunt for food and pickpocket for a living. You've been here long enough to notice when one of them bumps into a shopper, stubby yet nimble little fingers passing over their pockets in search of coin, all while the person remains none the wiser.

You also notice when they swipe a warm loaf of bread or fresh fruit from the stalls lining the shopping district, and you've never tried to stop them when they came for yours. It'd be a shame to throw away what remains of pastries and cake after you close for the night anyway, and while you'd be more than happy to offer the kids the excess yourself, there are one too many stingy customers who complain about having to pay for your goods while the kids get them for free.

Also, it's terribly adorable when a proud, satisfied smile draws over their little faces once they get their hands on a baked treat without getting noticed. You notice though; it's your fun little secret.

This one boy, however, has always seemed particularly ambitious, swiping three or more slices of whatever rather than one or two at a time. You've wondered if you should do something about it, but greed came to kick him in the ass before you could make up your mind. Unlike you, and a few other kind vendors, people do not take too kindly to petty thievery, and a misstep from that little kid leaves him curled on the ground, arms hugging the bruises blooming over his ribs.

He hisses and scratches and bites as you pull him over behind your stall. There's a bucket of water, some bandages, and a salve (meant for burns from the oven, but it's not like you've got much else to work with; this is a bakery not an apothecary), all of which you lay out before him so he knows you only mean well. Slowly his shaking subsides and he pulls the worn out rag hanging off the bucket's rim, dips it in the water, then wipes at his face and cleans out the blood from where the sharp tip of a boot had split his skin open. In the meantime, you rush to a stall that sells fish closer to the docks, and borrow a bucket of ice that you can empty into a cotton bag to press against his bruises.

You half-expect the boy to have already left when you come back, but he's right where you left him, staring wide-eyed at the racks upon racks of fluffy loaves and intricately-carved pastries. That's when you get the idea—you grab a fish-shaped pastry filled with spicy curry (it's always been his favorite, you've noticed) and offer it to the boy. He scowls at your outstretched hand, but you can clearly see the internal battle through his amber eyes. Eventually he succumbs and grabs the pastry, wolfing it down and almost choking twice. Only then does he let you get closer, but his careful gaze never leaves your hands as you place an ice-pack over a particularly nasty bruise.

You offer him another pastry, then another, and then you ask his name. "M'Thage," he manages to say between bites, crumbs flying all over the place. At some point Sage stops eating and looks over the tray of goods you put before him, seemingly guilty, then pockets a few (avoiding all deer-shaped ones) and scurries away. At least he has the decency to yell out a 'thank you!' over his shoulder as he disappears into an alley.

ii.

You think the persistent banging at your door is a customer who missed the very obvious 'CLOSED' sign outside (a far too frequent occurrence ever since you moved business indoors for the winter), but it's Sage, trembling under the weight of a small body draped over his back. Two fluffy, bunny-like ears droop over either side of her head, and snow coats her black, messy hair in a fine layer of white.

"She's sick. I don't—I don't know what to do." This is the first time Sage has spoken to you since that one time you helped him after he got kicked to a pulp in the shopping district. "Please, help her."

Though he pleads for your help, he's still too reluctant to let the little girl go, so you lead him inside where he can lay her over the carpet right by the fireplace. You decide not to say anything about the trail of wet, muddy footprints he leaves on the floors.

You pull your warmest blanket from where it was folded at the top shelf of the closet, along with two towels; one you hand to Sage and the other you dry the little girl's hair with. Her pulse is slow and her fingertips are so cold they could freeze and fall off, but her face radiates heat that rivals that of the hearth.

"Is she gonna be okay?" Sage's eyes are blown wide with fear, and he looks at you like you're the one person in Astraea who can save her. You're no doctor, but in the face of his fragile hope you can't help but smile reassuringly and pat his head. "Don't worry; she'll be alright."

You show Sage how to keep dipping a washcloth in cold water, wring it until it's no longer dripping wet ('and not too dry either,' you have to remind him when he squeezes it with all his might), then place it over her forehead, rinse and repeat—keeping him busy while you mop the muddy footprints off the floor, then prepare dinner for the three of you.

For a while, all is quiet in your house save for the fire crackling in the other room, and the soft scraping of metal against metal as you stir the savory stew bubbling before you. It feels peaceful, even as the howling winds rattle the windows, until Sage's voice rises above the storm and breaks the silence, "Tulsi! Tulsi!"

Rushing to the bedroom—stew long forgotten on the stove—you find the girl has finally woken up, delirious eyes shifting around the room until they focus on her brother, then you. You look to Sage before you carry his sister to your bed, and prop her up against the pillow. Back in the kitchen, you ladle some stew into two bowls, one you hand to Sage and the other you slowly spoon-feed to Tulsi.

With every sip she seems to regain more of her strength, until you can barely fit a spoonful of food into her mouth between all her rambling—about how good the food is, how warm your house is, how lovely your hair is, how rambunctious her brother is, so on and so forth.

So this is to whom all those extra pastries went, you realize absentmindedly.

"Say 'thank you,' Sage!" Tulsi folds her arms, trying to glare at her brother, but it's hard to feel threatened by these sweet oxen-eyes. Still, Sage relents and thanks you with a huff, before frowning at his empty bowl.

"Would you like seconds?"

"Yes!" he answers a little too quickly, and blushes when Tulsi giggles. You refill everyone's bowls, and add a third one for yourself. It isn't long before Sage is frowning again, and you think you know what pulls his eyebrows into such a worried furrow this time, so you try to put his mind at ease—

"You can stay for the night. Maybe the storm will calm tomorrow, then we'll call for a doctor."

"Don't got doctor money," Sage grumbles.

"I do."

He begins to protest, but a glance at a very sleepy Tulsi renders him voiceless even as his lips try to form the words.

"You don't owe me. Not now, not ever."

Slowly, Sage starts to relax, until his little shoulders slump like a heavy burden had fallen off of them.

Later that night, you try to make quick work of cleaning the kitchen until your attention is drawn away by a tug at your apron. You look down to find Sage, and he fixes you with a sharp gaze that looks out of place on such a young face. "I've got to go. You take good care of Tulsi."

It's a little endearing how he reminds you of a mother cat, leaving her kittens with a nice human because she decided she trusts them. However, Sage is but a child himself, and the storm rages on outside with no sign of stopping anytime before sunrise. "In this weather? Where to?"

Before he could answer, Tulsi emerges from the bedroom, wide eyes brimming with tears, "You're leaving?"

"I've got to find Balsam," he tries to sound firm, but it seems any conviction Sage might've had withers before Tulsi's gaze, the latter only looking more frazzled by the second.

"Take me with you! I want to see if Balsam is okay too! I don't wanna stay here alone!"

"We can look for him tomorrow, and you can tell him you had to stay with Tulsi. He knows you went to find help, no?" You reassure Sage, who nods, then you turn to Tulsi, "This isn't his first winter here, is it? Your friend must've found a place to hide. I'm sure he'll be fine."

Or at least you hope so. You have to believe it for their sake.

After reminding Sage to leave his shoes at the front door, you tuck the siblings into your bed, wish them goodnight, then head for the couch with a spare blanket and pillow. Hours later, sleep still refuses to grace your heavy eyelids, not because the couch is uncomfortable, but you can't stop thinking about Sage and Tulsi, their friend, and how many other kids are out on these streets, weathering the raging storm all on their own. How many aren't going to make it through the night, and who will remember them?

The doctor who answers your call next morning prescribes some medicine for Tulsi before reassuring you that she'll be just fine. You look over her frail body lying in your bed, clinging to Sage to leech at his warmth, and your heart aches at the thought of sending them back to the unforgiving cold, so you fix a warm breakfast of assorted pastries and tea for the three of you. In the afternoon you run a warm bath for Tulsi and only go in when she asks for help with her hair, then in the evening you make dinner for the four of you after Sage brings Balsam in. Later that night, Tulsi sleeps in your bed again.

And that's the story of how you accidentally adopted one (two? three?) little wharf rat(s).

Tulsi lives with you now. You read her bedtime stories every night, even after she learns to read them herself. You find out she has a knack for historical fiction, so that's what fills your bookshelves (which Sage refuses to touch—'I've heard better stories from the sailors by the docks,' he'd gloat). As the days pass, Tulsi becomes more comfortable sleeping without Sage watching over her. One night she slips out of bed and curls up next to you on the couch, so you carry her back to your bed where you sleep side by side.

Sage, on the other hand, comes and goes as he pleases. Some nights he sleeps huddled with all the other kids by the docks; other nights he crawls in through the bedroom window to make sure Tulsi's sleeping well. Sometimes he'll stay over for dinner after bringing you a large bucket of fish he proudly claims he caught by himself (if you couldn't tell by the stench of fish and rotten seaweed clinging to his clothes—he fights tooth and nail before he succumbs to a bath), and sometimes he'll stay well past dinner, so you teach him how you make the fish pastries he loves so much.

Every so often he hands his sister a meager allowance though she very much does not need it now that she lives with you, and he refuses to tell you how he makes the money. You're starting to worry that pick-pocketing isn't his only source of income, if the scars and bruises are anything to go by, and every time you try to express your concern he snaps that you're not his parent and it's none of your business. He's right, of course, yet you find your heart hurting when he says it.

You think it's pride that keeps this little boy from settling down with you and Tulsi, but really, Sage has learned early on that you can never rely on someone for too long. Should the rug be pulled from under their feet—should you decide you no longer want them in your house—he'll always be ready to catch Tulsi before she takes the fall.

iii.

Try as you might, this wood bends to neither your will nor your hands, the latter now covered in splinters. The blacksmith from next door raps his knuckles against your windowsill to wish you a good morning, and when you invite him in for tea and scones, you pray he knows his way with wood just as he does with metal.

After coming back with some tools from his shop, your neighbor sets to work, putting together a new bed for Tulsi, who watches him with awe. You don't think you've seen her blink at all. One too many times you've had to pull the hammer from her little fist before she could hurt herself.

Eventually, the blacksmith shuffles on his knees to make space for Tulsi, and wraps his fist over hers as they tap a nail into place with the hammer together.

"Look at you! You're a natural!" he exclaims, and Tulsi beams. "How'd you like being an apprentice at the smithy? Maybe once you get a lil' taller... These bones are too old to keep hammering at swords for much longer anyway."

"You talk like you've got one foot in the grave," you tut at him. "And how do you know she doesn't want to be my apprentice? I've been teaching her how to separate the egg whites from the yolk, you know, and she's taking to it very quickly!"

That's a lie... mostly. Tulsi's only successful dish so far has been grilled cheese; even Sage has better luck in the kitchen.

"You're just mad she doesn't like waiting for things to bake in the oven. I tell you kid, you're gonna love working the forge."

Tulsi pays no mind to your banter, still starry-eyed ever since your neighbor complimented her hammer skills.

Sure enough, she becomes the blacksmith's apprentice only a year later, much to your dismay; you end up paying for his drinks for the next month now that you've lost the bet. At least you know it's worth it when every night she comes back from work beaming brighter than a firefly on a summer night despite the soot covering her face. You've bought a new towel that you hang on a chair in the kitchen so Tulsi can clean up her face first thing when she's back home. You still have to do it for her since she always forgets to do it herself.

She gifts the first sword she makes under the blacksmith's mentorship to Sage, and the first dagger to you, and the second one to Balsam.

You swear time runs by too fast; next thing you know, you're celebrating the opening of Tulsi's very own smithy. It hasn't been a day since she declared being open for business but long lines are already forming at her door.

"She did build up quite the reputation as an apprentice," your heart swells with pride every time you repeat the story to one of your fellow vendors, killing time with small talk before the streets fill with shoppers. "Now she's the youngest blacksmith of Porrima, and one of its best, if not the best."

Though Tulsi had moved out, and crowds of mercenaries and knights keep her busy all day, she'll always make time to visit you in the evening, and you'll prepare the oolong tea she loves while you catch up. She still wears the headband you gave her years ago to keep her hair out of her face; far too often had she come back from your neighbor's workshop with burnt tips. The towel you used to wipe her face with still hangs off of the same chair in the kitchen.

"Do I have to move in with you just to remind you to get that grease off of your face?" you huff as she laughs. Perhaps some things are never meant to change.

Meanwhile, Sage doubles up in height seemingly overnight and his body has yet to catch up, so he looks more like a lanky, awkward dandelion stalk struggling to readjust to his new sword (also made by Tulsi, though this one was hammered into shape over her very own anvil). You take him out for his first drink at the tavern to celebrate his birthday; it feels like it was just yesterday he was a mangy little kitten sneaking in and out of your shop.

You try to nudge Tulsi towards getting outside her workshop a little more often, make some friends, but she insists she prefers the heat of the forge, unless Sage drags her out for an impromptu fishing and grilling trip with Balsam or another drink at the tavern. She always complains to you about how, more often than not, he's just trying to send her off on a blind date she didn't ask for.

Sage, on the other hand, seems to have grown into quite the party animal. He disappears for longer amounts of time, comes back looking more beat up than before (yet his grin never leaves his face), crashes on your floor (or Tulsi's couch) blackout-drunk more often, and speaks of a certain Lucan like he's the best thing to exist ever since fish-shaped pastries were invented.

"They're good people," he tells you about Lucan and the Griefers. "You don't have to worry so much."

iv.

You think the persistent banging at your door is a customer who missed the very obvious 'CLOSED' sign outside (a somewhat frequent occurrence ever since you moved business indoors after the Lord of Shadows' undead soldiers infiltrated the city), but it's Tulsi, shaking like a leaf in a storm though the skies are clear tonight. You don't remember the last time you've seen her crying, let alone wailing so desperately.

"Sage, he's gone." She shows you a broken, bloodied sword—Zenith, the magical Relic that chose Sage upon joining the Starsworn. You distantly remember how smug he looked the day he was chosen, because apparently it pissed off some guy called Rime.

You gently pull the sword away from her trembling hands and put it aside, before holding her firmly by the shoulders. "What do you mean he's gone?"

"He came to my place and he— and he— oh, he looked terrible," Tulsi hiccups into the crook of her elbow. "There was so much blood and a big wound in his chest! And he— he dropped this," she sniffles, and points at the sword, "then he disappeared. I looked for him everywhere."

You can clearly tell she ran around the town at least twice by the way her windswept hair stands every which way and her legs shake from the strain. Every morbid possibility runs through your mind all at once; you've heard this story before—people who disappear for a while before coming back and quietly blending back in with the crowds, seemingly unharmed; a miracle, they called it. It isn't too long before they start maiming people left and right; these are the undead soldiers of the evil necromancer—innocent civilians killed at his hands then brought back to do his bidding.

Fear swells in your heart until it tries to break out of your chest but fuck, someone has got to keep it together, so you hold Tulsi tightly and run your hand through her unruly hair until she can catch her breath. "He'll be fine. Sage always bounces back; you said it yourself!"

"This time... I don't know."

The best gossip and juiciest rumors are found amongst the vendors still populating the shopping district, going out to sell their wares despite the approaching war. That's where you start looking, and that's where you first hear it: whispers about the Griefers hunting down the traitor who killed their leader in cold blood. Those who were once beacons of safety in Porrima, holding down the fort when the knights got too busy with war efforts, are now more like rabid dogs terrorizing the streets in the name of the Lord of Shadows. Sage is nowhere amongst their ranks—that's what Balsam says when he finds you before you could find him.

He'd accosted Tulsi like a raging boar just as she was leaving your place, eyes bloodshot and hair clinging to his face with sweat, looking nothing like the loud but sweet boy you'd always see following Sage around town. There's a mild tremor in his hands as he digs his fingers into Tulsi's arms, and it takes her breaking down into tears for Balsam to believe that you're not secretly hiding Sage nor do you know where he ran off to; she swears up and down that Sage didn't tell her anything about what happened before he left Zenith.

All falls silent when Balsam lets you know Sage is indeed the traitor they've been hunting down. As if it's any consolation, he reassures you that he won't let the other Griefers come after you, and spares Tulsi one last apologetic glance before disappearing into the night.

You've assumed Sage would leave the Griefers once he joined the Starsworn, conflict of interest and all, but to straight up kill their leader in cold blood? Perhaps Sage has a shady past; perhaps he'd done unsavory things he wouldn't dare speak of, but you've always known, deep down, he's a good kid. He's your kid. Everything he does, he does to protect the people he loves. In what realm of possibility could he kill the one man he practically idolized?

You and Tulsi stand there in silence; for how long, you do not know. A cold breeze sends a shiver down your spine before you remember to shut the door Balsam left open. A thousand unspoken questions weigh down the air between you, but as you meet Tulsi's eyes, you realize one thing's for sure, there has to be a good explanation.

Only Sage can provide that explanation... or perhaps the people he pledged loyalty to. You turn to the Starsworn, who had declared they are marching to Mournfall for the final showdown against the Lord of Shadows. Sage is nowhere amongst their ranks—that's what Anisa confirms cold and curt before marching off, her grip painfully tight on her sword's hilt.

Once upon a time you'd hoped joining the Starsworn would straighten Sage out, or at least encourage him to spend less time getting into pointless fights and passing out drunk in the sewers. Now he's accused of murdering the one man whose praises Sage sang at every chance, considered a traitor by both parties he once claimed loyalty to, and is nowhere to be found—dead or on the run, nobody knows.

What games have you been playing, Sage? What did you get yourself into? You silently call out to the stars as you walk the line between sea and shore, but no one answers. You go out to the beach more often these days, especially after the sun sets and night drapes the city in a dark speckled blanket. Sage loved hanging around here at this time. In a rare, quiet moment of vulnerability, he once confessed to you how the loneliness of an abandoned beach always brought him peace whenever the world became too overwhelming. There's no worries here, only himself, the relentless crashing waves, and the moon and stars above

You find yourself hoping that in this time of turmoil, the beach will draw Sage back in again, and you'll catch a glimpse of him laid out on the sand for a moment's peace before he runs off again. Every time your excursion lets you down, you soothe yourself with the thought that maybe he's watching over you from where you can't see him. 'I'm staying away to protect you,' you can imagine Sage saying. You can't wait to find him so you can give his ear one big painful tug and a piece of your mind.

Tulsi always complains about how you shouldn't go out alone in the dark, let alone as far as the beach—your search is futile and it's not worth risking your life over. As far as she's concerned, her brother has already died. She says it's fine, really, she's getting over it, but she almost never parts with the forge, throwing herself into her work and visiting you less often.

You still bake the fish-shaped pastries Sage so loved; you count how many you've made in the morning, and you keep count of how many you sell throughout the day. You still wait for the day one or two pastries will go missing, maybe three or more if a certain mangy cat is feeling particularly greedy.

#last legacy #sage lesath #fictif #fictif last legacy #last legacy sage #tulsi ain #last legacy tulsi #fictif sage #fictif tulsi #last legacy headcanons

98 notes · View notes

gravehags · 4 months

Note

impera ghouls' fav art medium bc I just dropped out of art school lmao I hope I didn't forget anyone (I kinda went overboard so it's a long one sorryyyy)

- Mountain's kinda obvious, but he really likes working with natural materials. Enjoys woodworking and land art. Despite his size, has very deft hands and is extremely delicate. Makes a trip to the farm each season to get some beautiful fresh and golden hay to weave it into ornaments and jewelry. And let me tell you that's a testimony to his skill cause I literally cried over hay last October and I had to soak it in water to be able to bend it. The texture was disgusting and I got destroyed at the critique anyway lol

- I've already said it before, but Cumulus is totally into stamp carving and linocuts. 11/10, very calming, probably has rough hands since you have to use lots of white spirit to get the ink of off the lino, and you gotta use a special rough scrub to get ink out of your skin. Puts her creations everywhere, gives you and the ghouls little cards and patches she printed herself :)

- Cirrus and Sunshine probably share the serigraphy workshop. It's a very delicate craft, especially when you go for traditional paper stencils. But worry not, ghoul claws are sharper and more precise than your average cutter. Though, a intricate multi-colored stencil implies there's a lot of drying time involved, especially on fabric. They always have some kind of brunch during that time, with tea and snacks and such. Invite you to join them if you happen to pass by. (it's them who print the merch I know it)

- Aether makes very cool metal sculptures. He's got both the strength and the patience for it. You know those adorable little bird-shaped garden ornaments made from scrap metal ? Yeah he did some because the local old ladies are always commissioning him to make them. Also the workshop's babysitter, has to keep on eye on Swiss and Dew when they start beefing with a circular saw on their hands.

- Rain is very skilled in needlework. Originally considered himself a better painter, since he's got a sharp eye and is good at color theory, but discovered all the ways you can use embroidery and sewing with an artistic approach during a workshop in his first year. Sewed a costume made out of dried orange peels and called it 'orange leather' once. Also interested in book binding. Will get snappy if the others call him a little grandma while he's embroidering.

- Phantom is a photographer, and a pretty good graphist as well. He's too shy to admit it, but he really does know how to present his work. Has the cleanest portfolio around, and is probably a huge perfectionist. I mean, perfectionism is kind of a must in art school but bug is an anxious wreck (give him a hug). Very gentle, handles the lenses and lights with lots of care. Mainly photographs landscapes and nature mortes, but enjoys taking portraits as well. Takes a lot of self-portraits and will very shyly ask you to pose for him. (I photographed myself as Judith in Klimt's Lilith II : Judith and Holofernes for an assignment and ngl would love to hold bug's head with my tits out on camera)

- Aurora makes little pop-up zines. It's a prefect way for her to give way to both her gentleness and chaotic nature. While pop-ups may look tedious to make, it's actually lots of fun, and you can get pretty chaotic with it too. Has a whole collection of patterned and textured papers, she made most of them. Probably has a 'cool paper stash' she hasn't touched because she doesn't want to 'waste them' and said paper is like Christmas wrapping paper from 2016 (it's me I'm guilty).

- Dew is more interest in contemporary art, especially sculpture. Little guy has no patience and likes to break stuff, I see it as a match made in heaven. Uses his fire ghoul abilities to burn different matters and experiment with them. Kinda see him as my friend who burnt a humongous quantity of human hair for a project. Was pissed no one cuddled him for two days because of the smell.

- Swiss is totally a performance artist. I mean, technically, all of the ghouls have a huge affinity with it, but Swiss especially. A big fan of contemporary composers like John Cage and Karlheinz Stockhausen, as well as Bahaus performance art. He likes to let loose, have fun exploring his body's and voice's capicities in an artistic light. Probably submitted some kind of sextape as a project, but it's okay because the professor likes provocative stuff.

- BONUS : all of them probably were nude models for the evening classes at some point. I haven't included anatomical study in the hcs because no one in their right mind would enjoy sitting on a stool and drawing Greek statues for 8 hrs straight, but none of them would mind being the models for the 2 hrs 6pm classes. Although they'll probably ask you for a massage afterwards because of how tiring it is to stay in the same position for so long.

-unhinged family anon

These are GORGEOUS omg thank you so much for sharing these they’re all so on point!! 🩵

#nameless ghouls #nameless ghoulettes

5 notes · View notes