#justice for anisa

[antaripirate]

alucard emery deserves the fucking world and this parallel made me cry like a fucking baby

[richincolor]

We have several books on our radar for today. Check them out!

The Art Thieves by Andrea L. Rogers Levine Querido

Angel Wilson (LawAngel@IBLO.gov) Stevie Henry (shenry@gmail.com) Thanks for coming to see me; but by the time you read this, it will be too late. No one will have started to panic, yet; but in less than two months nothing will be the same. What came first, The Chicken or the Egg Flu? I wish it mattered. But let’s just say, maybe go back to wearing a mask, bathing in sanitizer, and avoid birds and eggs for a bit… I did not kill my brother. I did quite the opposite, really. It’s the year 2052. Stevie Henry is a Cherokee girl working at a museum in Texas, trying to save up enough money to go to college. The world around her is in a cycle of drought and superstorms, ice and fire … but people get by. But it’s about to get a whole lot worse. When a mysterious boy shows up at Stevie’s museum saying that he’s from the future -- and telling her what is to come -- she refuses to believe him. But soon she will have no choice. From the author of the Walter Award-winning Man Made Monsters comes a YA novel that conjures our futures in startling life – the ones that we are headed towards, and the ones we can still work towards.

The Dividing Sky by Jill Tew Joy Revolution

In 2460, eighteen-year-old Liv Newman dreams of a future beyond her lower-class life in the Metro. As a Proxy, she uses the neurochip in her brain to sell memories to wealthy clients. Maybe a few illegally, but money equals freedom. So when a customer offers her a ludicrous sum to go on an assignment in no-man’s-land, Liv accepts. Now she just has to survive. Rookie Forceman Adrian Rao believes in order over all. After discovering that a renegade Proxy’s shady dealings are messing with citizens’ brain chemistry, he vows to extinguish the threat. But when he tracks Liv down, there’s one problem: her memories are gone. Can Adrian bring himself to condemn her for crimes she doesn’t remember? As Liv and Adrian navigate the world beyond the Metro and their growing feelings for one another, they grapple with who they are, who they could be, and whether another way of living is possible.

Fledgling: The Keeper's Records of Revolution by S.K. Ali Kokila

The first book in a gripping duology from acclaimed author S.K. Ali introduces a fractured world on the brink of either enlightenment or war. Would you trade love for peace? Raisa of Upper Earth has only lived a life of privilege and acquiescence. Ever dutiful, she accepts her father’s arrangement of her marriage to Lein, Crown Prince of the corrupt, volatile lands of Lower Earth. Though Lein is a stranger, Raisa knows the wedding will unite their vastly different worlds in a pact of peace: an infusion of Upper Earth technology into Lower Earth will usher in the final age of enlightenment, ending war between humans forever. Or is justice more urgent? Newly released from imprisonment, Nada of Lower Earth has found her own calling: disrupting the royal wedding. Convinced her cousin Lein’s alliance with Upper Earth will launch an invasive, terrifying form of tyranny, Nada sets out undercover to light the spark of revolution. When Raisa goes missing a week before the wedding, all eyes turn to the rebels, including Nayf, Nada’s twin brother—a fugitive on the run. And when Nayf and Raisa meet, the long-simmering animosity they feel toward each other's worlds slowly burns away into something unexpected. But the Crown Prince wants his bride—and future—back. And he will go to the ends of the Earths to reclaim them.

If You're Not the One by Farah Rishi Quill Tree Books

This funny, electric rom-com follows a teen struggling to reclaim her perfect life and the perfectly wrong guy who sees through her facade, from the acclaimed author of It All Comes Back to You. Anisa Shirani is…well, perfect. A fact, not an opinion. Of course, it’s all a front to feed her own praise-obsessed ego. Behind closed doors, she is—some might say—a little slobbish and snobbish, and she works obsessively to maintain her God-given talents. Fate has favored her, but Ani knows better than anyone that fate is made by effort. But she must, especially when all signs point to her being a top-notch lawyer with a top-notch education and being destined to marry Isaac, total heartthrob and eldest son of the richest family in the community. A perfect girl deserves a perfect life, and Ani’s perfect life is going exactly the way it should… Until Ani’s parents announce they’re getting divorced. Until Isaac shows all the signs of…cheating. Sort of. Until she starts catching feelings for Marlow, an overly friendly weirdo she’s hated since the moment she laid eyes on him in class. How can fate be so wrong?

Of Blood and Lightning by Micki Janae Three Room Press

In the idyllic town of New River, North Dakota, 16-year-old Ophelia Johnson and six other teens inherit the powers of the old gods—Zeus, Poseidon, Hades, Artemis, Apollo, and Ares—and embark on a mission from the Vessel of Destiny to find the missing Fates, restore the Codex, and save the ancient world. Still grieving the recent and mysterious death of her father, Ophelia begins to unravel the secrets woven into her family’s history as she and her friends plunge into the quest of a lifetime. Armed only with powers they don’t totally understand, Ophelia, Roman, Cassius, Olivia, Alessia, and Baxter are soon immersed in a mythical chess match upon which rests the fate of the universe. As they journey into a world of blood pacts and war, the diverse group members find more than they bargained for, and Ophelia discovers a family tie that might mean the ensuing chaos and destruction is her fault. Of Blood and Lightning is an upper YA contemporary fantasy (age 16-25) with a gripping and fresh twist on Greek mythology as the ancient pantheon of gods inhabit an ensemble of BIPOC and queer teenaged characters.

Only for the Holidays by Abiola Bello Soho Teen

City girl Tia Solanké is dreading the festive season. She and her boyfriend are on a break and the last thing she wants is to spend Christmas away from London. Dragged to Saiyan Hedge Farm by her mother, Tia takes an instant disliking to the countryside estate. She falls in horse manure, is chased by sheep and the Wi-Fi sucks. How can she stalk her ex and concoct a foolproof plan to win him back from here? Country boy Quincy Parker and his family run the farm, and this year they’ve been selected to host the biggest event in the town’s calendar—the Winter Ball. Preparations are underway, and Quincy is working around the clock to make it a success. The only problem is, he’s told everyone he has a date to the ball, when in reality that couldn’t be further from the truth. At first, Tia and Quincy don’t see eye to eye, until they realize they both have something to gain by pretending to be a couple. But when a snowstorm threatens to cancel the Winter Ball, their fake relationship is put to the test. Will Tia and Quincy be able to keep up appearances and save the day, or will real feelings get in the way?

Solis by Paola Mendoza & Abby Sher Nancy Paulsen Books

The year is 2033, and in this near-future America where undocumented people are forced into labor camps, life is bleak. Especially so for seventeen-year-old Rania, a Lebanese teenager from Chicago. When she and her mother were rounded up by the Deportation Force, they were given the brutal job of digging in the labor camp’s mine searching for the destructive and toxic, but potentially world-changing chemical, aqualinium. With this chemical the corrupt and xenophobic government of the New American Republic could actually control the weather—ending devastating droughts sweeping the planet due to climate change. If the government succeeds, other countries would be at their mercy. Solidifying this power comes at the expense of the undocumented immigrants forced to endure horrendous conditions to mine the chemical or used in cruel experiments to test it, leaving their bodies wracked in extreme pain to the point of death. As the experiments ramp up, things only get worse. Rania and her fellow prisoners decide to start a revolution; if they don’t, they know they will die. Told by four narrators—Rania, Jess (a former teenage Deportation Force officer), Vali, and Vali’s mother Liliana—Solis is about the courage and sacrifice it takes to stand and fight for freedom.

Twenty-Four Seconds From Now... by Jason Reynolds Atheneum/Caitlyn Dlouhy Books

Twenty-four months ago: Neon gets chased by a dog all around the parking lot of a church. Not his finest moment. And definitely one he would have loved to forget if it weren’t for the dog’s owner: Aria. Dressed in sweats, a t-shirt, hair in a ponytail. Aria. Way more than fine. Twenty-four weeks ago: Neon’s dad insists on talking to him about tenderness and intimacy. Neon and Aria are definitely in love, and while they haven’t taken that next big step…yet, they’ve starting talking about…that. Twenty-four days ago: Neon’s mom finds her—gulp—bra in his room. Hey! No judging! Those hook thingies are complicated! So he’d figured he’d better practice, what with the big day only a month away. Twenty-four minutes ago: Neon leaves his shift at work at his dad’s bingo hall, making sure to bring some chicken tenders for Aria. They’re not candlelight and they definitely aren’t caviar, but they are her favorite. And right this second? Neon is locked in Aria’s bathroom, completely freaking out because twenty-four seconds from now he and Aria are about to…about to… Well, they won’t do anything if he can’t get out of his own head (all the advice, insecurities, and what ifs) and out of this bathroom!

Under All the Lights (When It All Syncs Up, #2) by Maya Ameyaw Annick Press

After one of his songs goes viral, Ollie Cheriet gets the opportunity of a lifetime: a cross-country tour, an album deal, and a chance to help his family with their financial struggles. The only problem? Ollie has major stage fright, a symptom of his anxiety disorder. As pressure from performing, social media rumors, and his romantic life rises, his mental health starts to spiral. So he’s surprised at how grounded he feels when he collaborates with his wildly talented—and distractingly cute—touring partner, Jesse. Music has always helped Ollie through hard times, but he’s going to have to be more vulnerable than he ever thought possible to find self-acceptance in the glow of the spotlight. Featuring characters from Maya Ameyaw’s acclaimed debut When It All Syncs Up, this story takes readers into the green room, immersing them in the vivid behind-the-scenes world of touring musicians.

[marscats37]

thanks for letting me scribble ur ocs ! Hope I did them all justice <3

credits in order:

Gene - @sureuncertainty

Anisa - @cleeeffa

Copper ΣN 269 - @littlefireant

Professor Fizz - @the-infinite-casmos

Penny - @odyssej

Steph - @duck-n-clover

Gabriel - @darby-draws

Rane - @chthonicgodling

Meridian - @lycheecreature

[clonerightsagenda]

#recently read November 23

The Golem of Brooklyn by Adam Mansbach. A stoned art teacher accidentally creates a golem who decides his mission is to stop an upcoming alt right rally.

The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle. Finally got around to this. A unicorn seeks the rest of her people and is forever changed by the mortal world.

How Can I Help You? by Laura Sims. A failed novelist working at a public library realizes her coworker was a killer nurse - and becomes fascinated with her as a topic for a new novel.

Last to Leave the Room by Caitlin Starling. While investigating why her city has started sinking, scientist Tamsin finds a new door in her basement - and then her doppelganger walks through it.

A Haunting in Hialeah Gardens by Raul Palma. Buried in debt, nonbeliever Hugo works as a babalawo. Then he's given a chance to clear his debts if he can end the very real haunting of his debt collector.

Before the Streetlights Come On: Black America's Urgent Call for Climate Solutions by Heather McTeer Toney. An environmental justice book discussing the climate crisis' disparate racial impacts.

The Centre by Ayesha Manazir Siddiqi. Anisa is referred to a secretive language-learning program with miraculous results... and a sinister secret raising questions of translation, appropriation, and power.

The Best American Science Fiction and Fantasy 2023 ed. by R.F. Kuang.

[madmanwonder]

Type prompt

Kratos Vs Faora Ul

Mk intro

Arena: Justice League Watchtower

Faora: *Anisa Skin Outfit* Join us in our conquest of Earth and you'll be greatly rewarded.

(Norse Era) Kratos: *Akuma SF6 Skin* No.

[anisaanisa]

Come back

^^ thank you, past anisa, for this utterly useless draft note. a little live blog situ is in order then- This is one of my favourite early-manga interactions for a multitude of reasons, mainly for how indicative it is of the dynamic these two share, and how Inuyasha and Kagome solidified themselves as the Miscommunication Ship of All Time. Here we have two characters, not just from different backgrounds, but literal points in time, in the early stages of trying to form an understanding of one another, and Takahashi does a great job of reminding us of how difficult that would actually be. The conversation these edits are from, taken from Chapter 28, is frankly a fever dream. (read right to left):

Inuyasha: And I took that personally :(

Inuyasha, the boy who is indeed guilty of the crime of being annoying, stops functioning for days (see: days (multiple)) after Kagome spartan kicks him down the well, and he holds onto that offence so tightly that he sulks in trees, steals her textbook, and stews, only for his own internal battle (understanding kagome (tangential to the whole Noh Mask debacle)) to reach its climax in the middle of a harrowing demon-trying-to-eat-people battle to demand an apology. The audacity.

But why so audacious? Not only does he have a heightened sense of justice when it calls for it, but he's (rather obviously) from a different walk of life where he has little more than the clothes on his back and his word to stand by. At this point in their red-string-thing timeline, this is not something Kagome, his projected love interest, can realistically relate to, and this scene aggressively drives it home; they may as well be speaking different languages.

For Kagome, she has lived a thousand lifetimes (studying) since she last told Master AnnoyingYasha to get lost, has forgotten it even happened, and to her, him stopping in the middle of sword-swinging is strange and ill-timed, if we're being polite about it, so for her to be bewildered by his demands after Miss NohThankYou busted through her window is apt. Kagome's bold, she's sassy, she's equally compassionate and passionate, the type to say I Hate You but Not Really Mean It. For all intents and purposes, Kagome Higurashi, The Main Character, is the epitome of a modern teenage girl, and that's the point. You're supposed to relate to her, in that sense.

And make no mistake on Inuyasha's end, these are demands; it's in the title of this chapter: “I'll help You, But…”. The boy has stipulations, and we all have to listen, because in the previous chapter, he actively came through the well to get that apology he felt he so rightfully deserved, not necessarily to save her. Saving the day is merely a bonus, while making his point was the goal:

Inuyasha: And I took the opportunity :)

But don't be disheartened – it's not from a place of malice or disproportionate moral coding, as it rarely is. Inuyasha, The Lad, is fully aware of his capabilities, and taking care of a demon snacking on humans is a nuisance at most, a side-quest to his real goal (that damn apology), as we can see by this steel beam disintegrating under his hand:

Inuyasha: What, like it's hard? :D

Inuyasha's ready and willing to meet in the middle, his route there is just rougher terrain: you give me what I want (a spoken apology) and I'll do this favour for you (help you not get eaten). It's strange, but it's what he knows, therefore, I have also found him guilty of also being a good boy :D

Kagome's ready and willing to meet in the middle, at the cost of some confusion: I'll apologise (for what, I'm not so sure) in exchange for you stopping this monster from eating me. Who else needs an apology? You get an apology, you get an apology, you all get an apology! I am so sorry for everything ever. Now please look cool while stopping this demon, thank you (it's what we'd all do), because to her, an apology does not carry the worth Inuyasha has imbued into it.

So when he thinks to himself, “Doesn't it mean anything to her?” — that is our glimpse into his inner world. Outwardly, he typically says and does what he means, and naively so, has that same expectation of others, because Inuyasha is not a man of the world, he's a man of the forest. Thankfully, he's not totally inept in understanding social cues; he grasps sarcasm, at the very least (from page 521), but has led himself to this failure in considering how that same interaction impacted her; in that it may not have impacted her at all. There's this thing about Inuyasha, where he says exactly what he means, but almost to his detriment, and his words often take on double-meaning, depending on which lens you choose to look at him through. “Can't I have both?” is a perfect example of this dichotomy and a much-talked about where art thou loyalties lie scene that I took as a far more innocent (and noble tbh) statement than is regularly extrapolated and construed.

It's interesting to look back on how a ship that is so frequently considered poster children for the miscommunication trope (and rightfully so) pulls that off and in a way that is fun and endearing – it's not from lack of trying or effort. They're trying, alright. In the midst of battle and horror, near-constantly, they are trying. The effort is there. They just can't speak each other's language. Yet.

At this stage of their individual character development, in order to achieve personal growth, it's like this: Inuyasha needs someone that challenges him and his world views. Kagome needs someone that challenges her and her world views. They require the same thing, just in different fonts…if that makes sense.

So, I think I figured out what I wanted to come back to say:

Inuyasha and Kagome are complimentary in their oppositions. And they are cohesive in their similarities. And that is why they're my OTP. Thank you for understanding.

Okay, okay! I apologise. How's that? ☆

[panels-of-interest]

Wonder Woman vs. Rao.

[from JLA (2015) #8]

[youngjusticeslut]

All the heroes and their kids at the Super Parent club from 3x09 ‘Home Fires’

[davidblaska]

Spend that Biden stimulus money on saving Madison's gang bangers

Spend that Biden stimulus money on saving Madison’s gang bangers

The infrastructure we really need It is a beautiful Easter Sunday this April 4th, temperatures in the 70°s F a second straight day. But one wonders if, along with the crocuses, those pop-up memorials to the dead will sprout on utility posts to memorialize young men shot in the line of gang warfare. Usually with balloons, posters, and a photo of the deceased. Like the one in the middle of…

[scpsis]

he'd never known what to do with people like anisa — those with sharp edges, sharp tongues. every part of wymon was round, easy to palate. his temperament was a smooth stone that'd been pounded ceaselessly by the tide. despite her obvious annoyance, he held patience. " well, no — but a construction worker believes in the building he's constructing, does he not ? a lawyer believes in the justice, i assume. " perhaps his viewpoint was naive, even asinine, but it was written into his character, unchangeable. " okay so, if you were going to have some kind of job that you believed in, what would it be ? "

anisa raised her eyebrows, the look on her face something between a disdainful sneer and a grimace, "immoral? please, spare me with the morality talk, wymon." she withheld the eye roll that threatened, keeping her steady gaze on him, "it's a job. do you think construction workers like scaffolding? do you think manicurists like touching people's decrepit hands? do you think lawyers like having to call an old person in an ugly robe 'your honor?' we all make concessions for money." plus, coming from show business? she had seen it all. "people will do anything for a check."

[zoethespiritwolf]

Masterlist

This is the official new masterlist page. Here you can view some of my written works

Miraculous ladybug

A sleepover that changed my life - Luka Couffaine x female!reader

Lady Justice (p1), (p2), (p3) - Luka Couffaine/Viperion x female!reader

Don't stay awake for too long - Luka Couffaine x female!reader

My hero - Luka Couffaine x female! reader

Primroses - Luka Couffaine x gn(?)! reader

Mi amor - Luka Couffaine x female! latina! reader

TMNT

When horrible memories strike - Raph x female! child! reader (platonic)

ROTG

Falling Stars - Jack Frost x gn! reader

The Guardians finding out Tooth's dating Chaos spirit! reader (headcanon)

The "Crossroads" series

Cupid! reader and the Guardians being like a family

Sweater Weather - Jack Frost x female!reader

ATLA

The tale of (Y/n) - Sokka x female! tomboyish! reader

I love her, damn it! (p1), (p2) - Sokka x female! firebender! reader

Last Legacy

Corruption - Anisa Anka x gn! reader

For now, that is all. Newer works will be added in the future

[lastleggysee]

Substitute Lovers - Sage Lesath (pt. 2)

Okay so I couldn't get Last Legacy off my mind and ended up writing more Sage/Reader (+ FWB!Felix) so here's that. It's also a slow burn now I guess.

Part 1 here!

Word count: 6,635

Warnings: Mentions of blood, slight NSFW (nothing graphic imo), minors DNI

Felix returned, black-clad and brooding, two days later than he initially stated he would. 

Before this, Anisa was the only one who worried about his delay, insisting to go on a search for him by sunset on the first day. Sage offered his assistance if she was offering a bounty, mumbling something about “bringing the brat back before midnight”, but you managed to hold their reins until his arrival. 

On the morning of Felix’s return, Sage found you reading on the balcony, lightly stroking Stella’s sleeping form on your lap. 

“Some balls you’ve got - don’t they teach kids to stay away from monsters where you’re from?” He chuckled, sliding down the wall to sit down next to you. 

“Oh Sage, it’s just a book. It’s not going to hurt you.” You don’t look up from the page you’re on. Since arriving in Astrea, your magic largely showed itself in bursts of instinct. You’d managed to familiarize yourself with small spells, party tricks and mildly-impressive-but-hardly-lethal cantrips mostly, but more complex incantations alluded you. It felt like trying to learn a new language while simultaneously running a triathlon, frustrating and exhausting, but you devoted time to bettering your skills nonetheless. 

A simple truth belied your determination: You’re the weakest link of the New Starsworn. And if you knew it, the Lord of Shadows and all his creepy-crawlies knew it too. 

“I don’t know, you smacked me pretty good with one the last time. What was it again - Transfiguration for Tactile Learners?” 

Sage watched your brow furrow deeply. As if on cue, Stella stands up on your lap, stretching impressively, before scampering off into the castle. Your gaze follows her and lingers long after she’s gone. 

Do you stare at Felix like that, when he leaves your room? After the blush has finally faded from your cheeks and you’re brushing your hair back into place; after your now-hoarse voice has bid him goodnight. How long do you spend looking at the door after he’s gone? How easily do you drift off to sleep after picturing his face in the ceiling above your bed?

But you turn to face him when he calls your name, more often than not, and Sage has never been the type of man to discount small victories.  

This time, though, he does have to call your name twice before you return his attention, face only a few millimeters shy of a scowl. “Lighten up, you’ll get wrinkles if you walk around with a face like that.”

“The only thing here that’ll give me wrinkles is you,” you sigh, reluctantly closing your book. 

“Only in your bedsheets, if you’re lucky,” he says. “But now that I’ve got your attention, I could use some help.”

“Oh? I’m so honored,” you roll your head from side-to-side, trying your best to coax out a stubborn crick that keeps itself hidden.

His smile could have melted you then and there, if the wall wasn’t holding you up. The tips of his fangs now exposed, in sharp white contrast to his sun-kissed skin, the way his mouth tilted towards one side as he moved his lips to form his request. You would have agreed to anything he asked, coming from a mouth like that. 

“Last night, Anisa got me thinking- I really could use a little extra coin. I’m gonna bag a couple bounties, just enough to pay off my tabs and put some away. I mean, I’m glad to be here and all, but righting wrongs and delivering justice doesn’t really pay the bills.”

“Sage, what bills do-”

He cuts you off. “Tabs add up, but that’s not the point. I’m rusty, literally- I spent half the morning scraping the shit off lefty here.” He thrusts his gauntlet into your face, the image of an overexcited child delivering a handmade macaroni necklace to their teacher, before continuing. “I want to get a few rounds of training in real quick before I go. Just for the afternoon. Unless you’re busy, of course.”

A steady hand over his, and you lower his gauntlet from out of your face. How hasn't he lost an eye yet, walking around with these things all the time? 

"I'm yours."

 *                        *                       *

Your chest is heaving. Sage barely has to put in any effort and before you know it you're flat on your back, the air knocked from your lungs. How brutal must the gym classes in Astrea be, for this to come to him so easily?

It's easy to forget Sage was - is - (does it really matter?) a soldier. That the same hands, wide palms outstretched to you now, have taken lives before. How can he call himself rusty when any fight you're in with him is over in a matter of minutes?

He pulls you up with ease. However, your oxygen-deprived knees aren't quite prepared to resume their duties and support you just yet. You crash into the expanse of Sage's exposed chest, eye-level with a particularly angry-looking raised scar. How powerful could something have been, to have left such a mark on him? You're not sure if you want to know.

"Breathe," he reminds you, strong hands supporting you more than you'd care to admit from underneath your elbows. As if to demonstrate, he inhales deeply through his nose before puckering his lips and exaggeratedly exhaling onto your face, blowing back a few strands of your hair that weren't affixed to your sweat-soaked forehead. 

Unable to retort, you follow his instruction, choosing to ignore the insult he added to your pride’s injury. You also choose to ignore his all-too-satisfied laugh as he extricates you from his arms and walks towards the edge of the pool on the outside of your improvised sparring arena. You’re even able to half-ignore the aching in your calves as they protest from overuse. 

But try as you might, you’re unable to ignore the way the muscles of his back move as he crouches down to meet the pool, splashing water from his cupped hand onto his face before running that same hand over his scalp. It didn’t help that his usual braid was now perfectly askew, stray strands of pearlescent hair framing his shoulders from behind. No wonder he’s kicking your ass when he’s able to take your breath like this without even touching you. Sage’s fingers idly skim the water in front of him, creating small ripples that playfully catch the sunlight. 

“Alright, playtime’s over,” he stands, wiping his hands on the front of his thighs and turning towards you once more. “Not that you haven’t been a lovely punching bag, but I’d better get going while I’ve still got a little daylight ahead of me.”

You want to say something clever, something witty or biting, something about knocking that smug grin off his face, but your words are lost somewhere between the ache in your chest and the thin trails of water running down his. Instead, you nod. 

Ever-cavelier, he walks you back to your room at Fathom. His praises of your improved technique (“Who’re you stabbing down when I’m not around?”) are as earnest as his gesture of holding open the door of your room for you when you arrive. He stands in your doorway, perked-up ears grazing the doorframe, and for the first time in your rather long trek back to your chambers, Sage is silent. 

He should thank you, he thinks. Should offer to help you stretch, offer to buy you a meal upon his return. Should stop staring at you. Should definitely ignore the gentle working of your fingers through your hair, tying it out of your face. Sage wagers with himself that if he were a smart man, he’d turn around right now and leave - but his eyes remain transfixed on the stubborn tresses of hair clinging to the back of your neck and the ghosting of skin peeking out from the collar of your shirt. 

“What’s the holdup? Scared or something?” you hum, kicking your shoes off and into a corner.

His heartbeat quickens. Scared? Absolutely. He didn’t used to think about these things. He’s lived the past five years as an enigma, a shadow, a blood-stained mask held up to the world without anyone to question what was underneath. And you read him so easily.

“No,” of course I am. “Do I look like the type of man that scares easy?” He leans against your doorframe for emphasis. And he’s mostly telling the truth. Sage has never scared easily - about anything in the world outside of this godsdamned room at least. 

“Be careful, Sage.” you remind him. He didn’t notice you getting closer until your hand was on the doorknob, form half-hidden behind the heavy door’s wooden frame. 

“Oh, you know me. I always use protection.”

“You’re a dog,” you chide, closing the door softly. Sage lets out a mock howl that’s dramatic, even for him, that echoes down the stone hallway as he walks away.

Felix frowns, wondering how a dog could’ve possibly managed to find its way into Fathom, dusting himself off lightly from the portal he just stepped through. 

 *                        *                       *

You dine in your room that night, and the night after that. Your housemates (Castlemates? Comrades? Brothers in arms?) had once again made themselves scarce; only now conveniently showing themselves as you sat down in the kitchen while brewing yourself a cup of tea. Anisa’s visit was short-lived as she sheepishly asked for your help to tighten the straps on the back of her uniform. There must be one hell of a visitor for her to bring out the official colors of the Sunstone Order so early in the morning, but this didn’t surprise you.

What did surprise you, however, was Felix’s voice from across the room asking you to make a cup for him as well soon after Anisa rushed out the door. He looks rough, even for it to be so early in the morning, and his footsteps appear heavy as he slinks towards the counter. Felix nods, not exactly at you, but in your general direction at least, as you sit the heavy-bottomed mug in front of him. You count the seconds between his sips of tea and heavy sighs like thunder following lightning. You focus on your own beverage in a tense silence, waiting for the skies to open up and Felix to reveal the details of his visit home. 

“I’ll never understand how Escell managed to ascend to the rank of archmage without the slightest clue of how to brew a decent cup of tea.” His customary slouch appears exaggerated, somehow, giving him the appearance of speaking directly into his cup. 

“Beats me. Even in my world, reading tea leaves is pretty common magical practice,” you mutter offhandedly, idly wiping crumbs off the counter. “Maybe he just lied on the application.”

Felix chuckles tersely at this. “Is it, now? Well, I suppose he’s got no excuse then.” He turns the bottom of his mug towards the ceiling, and looks into the cup with curiosity. 

“So you’re able to divine what, exactly from the symbology?” Felix is rotating the cup slightly now, his tone pensive. Combined with the far-off look in his eyes, you’re unsure if he actually wants a response or if he’s simply processing this new bit of information out loud. You suppose you can’t blame him, he never seemed to quite grasp the concept of a barista and the duties of the job. 

“The future, I think,” your nose scrunches as you dig through the recesses of your memory. “We don’t have fancy magic schools where I’m from, but I don’t know, I think it’s mostly up to interpretation. What feelings you get from what you see more than the symbols themselves.”

“It just feels empty,” Felix’s eyes seem a shade darker as one corner of his mouth raises to form a sardonic smirk. “How fitting.”

He rights his posture to an acceptable level of slouch, clears his throat, and the omen passes. You rise to pour yourself another cup and he’s asking about your studies, Stella’s antics in his absence, your thoughts on the less-than-academic romance novel he lent you a week before his departure - but his eyes linger on the cup for the majority of your conversation. His words expertly sidestep your attempts to inquire about his time away, and eventually you abandon the topic in favor of showing him your novice attempts at a portal spell you’ve been working on. 

For the rest of the time you spend together that day, neither of you mention the half-moon indentations etched into his palms. 

 *                        *                       *

Though your drunken conversation with Sage over a week ago still smolders in your memory, you don’t manage to end things with Felix. You would be ashamed of yourself, if you weren’t already so preoccupied with your newest shame: even in a world as fantastical as Astrea, you still manage to find yourself bored more often than you’d care to admit. 

You mentioned this idly to Felix one evening, following a particularly enthralling afternoon of arcane research and, lounging on one of the chairs in his study that seemed to be filled with as much dust as cushioning, if not more. 

“Doesn’t your family have, I don’t know, a magical amusement park day pass or something? You ask, reluctant to follow suit as Felix flips his way through an impressively heavy tome. 

“I haven’t the faintest clue what you just asked me, but if amusement is involved I assure you my family has no part of it.” His chin rests heavily on the heel of his palm, giving his voice a strained tonality. “What sorts of amusements kept you occupied back in your world?”

You avoid his question, reluctant to admit that escaping to the virtual world of Astrea was one of the few pastimes you managed to engage in with any regularity. Instead, you cross the room, ruffling his hair as you pass by him on your way to the door. If he notices your gesture, he doesn’t show it, not looking up from his book even as the heavy door to his study slams shut. 

In a valiant effort to fend off the growing sense of sameness (you didn’t realize how much of a difference Sage and his flavor-of-the-day moods and antics made until he’d been gone for a few days), you decided to pay Tulsi a visit. 

The sidequest of your evening proved more challenging than you’d care to admit. 

And so, you find yourself walking through the dimly-lit streets of Porrima, your mind wandering to a time when Astrea was just a setting in your favorite video game. What did you spend all those hours doing, when the missions were completed? The glow of the moon begins to rise over the western half of the ocean in stark contrast to clouds in the east, casting an iridescent pathway over the water so strongly you could have mistaken it for a bridge, if you didn’t know better. 

Not that you knew much better concerning Porrima, all things considered. Your feet felt clumsy walking over the cobblestone streets, as though your bones themselves knew they didn’t belong; that they weren’t ever really meant to walk the paths you’re on. Thankfully, the streets were much less crowded now than they had been during your last excursion with Sage, so you could put on a well enough show of being a native to avoid suspicious eyes. The few stalls still open, manned by sleepy-eyed vendors, appeared even to have lost some of their color under the streetlamp’s lights. Damp, chilled air blowing in from the water leads the lamp’s flames in a precarious dance, casting flickering shadows this way and that. The splendor of the afternoon had been replaced by a still and alluring melancholy. You wonder not if it will rain, but when. 

It was on your third wrong turn - taking you past a spectacularly vulgar establishment you approximated to a mystical dive bar before leading to a dead end- that you decided to stop for a break. You sit on the edge of a water fountain and pick at the skin of your thumbs as though the precise memory of Tulsi’s shop was buried somewhere beneath the distressed flesh. Asking for directions tied your stomach into angry knots on your best of days, and you hated to make your status of lone outsider known almost as much as you hated to return to Fathom and gather dust like all of Felix’s old books. Your stomach argues that you should stop into the bar to get a meal (or something close to it), but you know your appetite won’t allow you to put down much. Anisa always scolded you for wasting food. Maybe, if you turned back now, you could find her stash of treats before she returned from her duties. 

The steady stream flowing from the fountain behind you washes over your thoughts. You’re unable to make out precise details of the statue’s face, backlit by the moon in a cool white light, but a vase of flowers sits balanced between a large, ornamental pair of horns. Was it a spell or some innate quality of the plants themselves that kept them from withering in the cool air? 

The crash of a door opening, a screech of laughter trailing to the nearby alley. It sounds too bright for it to be ringing through a seedy alleyway. Almost eerie, like a bird chirping at midnight. 

But you don’t turn your head at the songbird’s calls. Instead, a too-loud and too-familiar voice calls your attention. Of course, where else would fate have him be?

It’s hard for you to focus on their conversation over the pounding in your ears, but they’re making no secret of their intentions with each other. You put a hand on your chest and are almost surprised when you’re not able to feel your emotions ripping their way out from your rib cage underneath your palm. How long had he been back? Was he even planning on returning to Fathom? Had he even spared you a thought?

The alley takes on the dark and guilt-ridden quality of a confessional booth as you give into the masochistic urges to observe. Sage’s partner is nearly as tall as him. They’re shushing him with a finger pressed to his lips, their other hand clasped firmly around the belt on his chest - admiring the same jagged scar you did the last time you saw him. Sage’s eyes, never leaving their face, reflect the dim light as he takes their finger into his mouth. The songbird giggles again, pulling him by his belt in for a kiss. Sage’s hand - where’d he leave his gauntlet? - raises to envelop theirs as his knee slides in between their thighs. His boots are dirty; they’re going to leave marks on the pale fabric of his partner’s skirts. 

It’s hard for you to tell whether it was the cold that caused you to lose feeling in your fingers or something else entirely. You abandon the original purpose of your trip, along with the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, and spend nearly all of the change in your pocket on what bags of street cakes were left at a vendor’s booth. They’re stale, half-crumbling in your hand before you’re able to lift them to your mouth. You attempt to dodge holes in the pavement on your way back to Fathom. The moon’s attempt to illuminate your path from behind a wall of clouds is futile, and you trip over uneven stone. 

 *                        *                       *

You track mud into Felix’s study. He’s in essentially the same position you left him in, only with a different book and his legs criss-crossed in his chair. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to do anything,” you indiscriminately pull a book from his stack and throw yourself onto a cushion on the floor. “I’m just not about to be alone in this creepy mansion when the storm starts.”

Felix at you for a long moment before shaking his head and returning his attention to his book. 

You make an earnest effort to make sense of the words in front of you, but descriptions of alchemical techniques throughout the ages begin to blur together after a while. At some point during your absence Felix had opened the heavy curtains, and although you see the sway of trees in the distance it has still yet to rain. 

Why does it always seem like you’re just waiting for the bottom to drop out?

Unable to sit still, you begin to straighten up around the room. Papers and what look surprisingly like small animal bones once littering the floor are gathered into a small pile. 

Is Sage still in the alley? 

You re-shelve what seems like a library’s worth of novels, brushing dust off of them as you go. 

Did he go home with them, or will they spend the night at a motel? Sage was looking to pay his tabs, after all. 

You find a small bottle of nail polish underneath a pile of blankets. 

Had he spent the afternoon with them? Longer?

Felix had been looking for that particular bottle. He must have at least a dozen missing items in this room. 

He’s going to give them the wrong impression, spending time with them like that. Sage doesn’t do relationships, you recall from one of your first conversations with him.

You look for somewhere to place it, somewhere Felix won’t lose it again, but the room still seems half-drowned with clutter. 

There was no reason for him to have been that tender, to have taken their hand in his like that while he roughly pushed their legs apart with his knee-

You slam the nail polish onto the desk in front of Felix with more force than you’d meant to. Hair falls from his face as he looks up at you again, his expression unreadable. 

It’s none of your business. He’s none of your business. 

“Well, are you just going to sit there all night?” you huff. 

“I was under the impression you didn’t want to have sex,” He doesn’t take his eyes off of you as he closes his book. “Not that I wouldn’t be happy to oblige.”

“Oh, Felix,” you lean down, running your fingers through his dark hair before settling at the nape of his neck. He doesn’t respond, but you don’t question whether or not you’re commanding his attention. You watch his throat rise and fall as he swallows thickly. “If either of us had what we wanted, would we even be here right now?”

 *                        *                       *

When the first drops of rain begin to drum against the roof, you realize your mistake. Although your bath could have waited until morning, you dreaded the thought of spending the night with sweaty hair stuck to the back of your neck. After a brief debate on whether to try and wait the storm out or not, the tiredness in your bones triumphs over any sense of reason and you brace yourself for the trek back towards the castle. 

The warm water of the bath house stood in sharp contrast in your memory to the torrents of cold rain coming down now. By the time you reach the entrance your clothes are soaked. You empty the water from your shoes and abandon them by the entrance, making an effort to wring as much moisture as you can from your saturated attire. The chilled stone against the soles of your feet nearly causes you to leap.

So much of your energy is focused on not falling or freezing that you don’t hear the sound of an additional pair of heavy footsteps over your own muttered curses until they’re too close for comfort. Adrenaline dances with already-intense feelings of aggravation as you ball your hands into fists at your sides. If anyone was going to pick a fight with you, they picked a hell of a night to do so. You turn towards the sound, and almost immediately wish you hadn’t. 

“You look awful. Who pushed you in the moat?” Sage laughs, evidently pleased with himself for scaring you. You avoid his face. It’s difficult to see him in the dim light, but you’re able to make out that he’s put his gauntlet on again. 

“It’s the middle of the godsdamned night, everyone looks awful.” You turn away from him, shame creating a not-unpleasant burning in your cheeks. 

“The storm makes it feel later than it is,” he jogs forward to fall in step with you. “But I’ve got a decent internal clock - it’s still a few hours until sunrise.”

He spent most of the night with them, then. The chill makes its way to your chest. 

“I had a hell of a time out there - got enough to settle my debts and then some,” he continues. “But don’t worry, I didn’t forget about owing you from that card game the other night. I was gonna wait until morning, but if you’re up there’s no time like the present.”

“Keep it.” A pebble digs into your heel, but you don’t stop to shake it off. 

“Limited time offer, I’d take it if I were you.” he purrs. “I might just find something to spend it on by morning. Or someone, you never know.” 

The air around you falls too-still for a moment, louder than the thunder roaring above you. You’re not sure when your hands started shaking, rage like ants pouring from a flooded pile barely concealed by the sleeves of your shirt. You mutter something about where he can shove his money, if he even has it at all. Even with his long strides, you’re walking faster than him now. 

“What’s your problem?” Sage reaches out, catching you by the hand. “Gods - you’re freezing!”

Instinct kicks in. A sharp jerk and you snatch your hand from his, the immediate absence of his warmth feeling criminal. You bury your hand in your pocket, turning from him once more. His eyes dig into your back for a few steps, and then the feeling is replaced by heavy fabric draping over your shoulders. 

You stop mid-stride, the bottom of the red fabric of Sage’s coat pooling around your bare feet. The breath you take in smells overwhelmingly of him. Even with your still-wet clothes stuck to your body, it’s the warmest you’ve felt all day. It’s soothing. It’s infuriating. 

“Coins are in the pocket,” he snaps, impossibly still from behind you. “You’re welcome.” Lightning flashes outside, and your shadows briefly merge, stretching further into the hallway. How fitting for even his shadow to have consumed all of you so quickly. 

A dozen half-formed responses float to the surface of your brain, but your energy is focused elsewhere. You will your arms to shake off the coat, but your limbs don’t respond. You will your legs to push your shivering form forward, but you remain affixed to the spot. You take in slow, deep breaths, hoping to calm the rabid creature hammering against the inside of your ribcage. He’ll be the death of you. 

“I don’t want your coat, Sage.” You pour as much venom into your voice as you can, but its echo down the corridor sounds feeble. And you didn’t, truly. Since arriving in Astrea you’d yet to see him wash it, and a dozen small tears and imperfections make themselves known as you glance down at the sleeves. Either dried blood or smeared jam marred the outer forearm (Did he throw down with a baker?), infinitely less offensive than the heat of him which clung to the fabric.

He snorts. “You look like a half-drowned rat, I wanted you to have it.” The juxtaposition he creates with the harshness of his tone and the compassionate gesture leave you at a loss for words. 

He didn’t do this to hurt you. There was no way for him to know how much damage his needle-sharp warmth caused as it seeped into your skin from the fabric. He didn’t recognize his kindness for the ambush it was. To him, it’s just his coat. You’re being mean. You’re being unfair to him. It’s just his coat, and that’s all it should be for the both of you. His footsteps ring heavy in your ears, and for a moment it’s hard for you to differentiate between them and your own heartbeat. He stops in front of you, cupping his hands over your shoulders. 

“Respectfully, Sage, I didn’t ask-” you begin, tone as cold as you can muster. All lessons on telepathy thus far had proved fruitless and frustrating, but his intentions are exact. You meet his eyes, severe and caustic as molten gold, and cringe slightly. 

“You didn’t have to. Don’t have to.” he cuts you off. You don’t have to thank me either, but it’d be nice. 

“Look, I get it. Shit happens. If you gotta be mad, then fine. Be mad with me. I can take it-” Sage stops himself when you scoff, taking the inside of his cheek between his teeth for a moment. His mind oscillates between a call to escalate the situation - he’d barely said a word to you and you were already working on ripping him a new one -  and something else entirely. The tremble of your shoulders underneath his hands breaks his resolve. 

“Whatever, be mad then. I’ll be sorry if that’s what you want, alright?” Sage sighs. “But just keep the damn coat. I’ll be sorry, you be warm. Then we both go off and have a shitty rest of our night in peace.”

Sage hasn’t been proud of himself, truly and sincerely proud - not the self-satisfied garbage he spits out onto everyone around him - many times in his life, but these words he works out over his waning patience are enough for him to add another tally to his count. Especially over the past few years, he’s been so used to surrendering to whatever anger comes up and allowing it to consume him. You’ve talked with him about it, and he’s repeated your words to himself in the mirror more days than he hasn’t. It’s so easy to give into the scent of blood in the water; to bite and kick and spit out cruel words, to win. He’s not happy about it, but if he’s got to lose to anyone, he’s glad it’s you. 

Too incensed to thank him, too proud to look away before he does. His tone has a finality to it, commanding the conversation’s conclusion without saying so, but his hands have yet to leave your shoulders. Heat from his palms has worked its way into your tense muscles. What an inconvenience it will be when he removes them and finds that you’ve utterly melted into him. What a waste of an act of kindness. What a shame. 

Part of you that wants to dive past the point of no return, to tell him how you smolder under his touch, to ask his forgiveness in all languages you speak and that you don’t, to pour every inch of yourself out onto his shoes and beg him to fill you back up. Part of you that wants to hang him by the rafters with his tail and never look back. You do neither, and can hear the laugh of whatever god is out there that’s given you these feelings as the sadistic punchline to their cosmic joke. Their angels say: You’re being mean. You’re being unfair to them. The god replies in the deep breath you draw to steady yourself. 

“That was pretty cold of me, wasn’t it?” you say. He doesn’t answer. “Pretty frigid even, I guess you could say.” 

He accepts your unspoken armistice as a withering light returns to his eyes. No hard feelings. 

“I’m not mad at you, Sage.” you know he picks up on your lie as soon as you say it, but he doesn’t call you on it. His gaze is steady, and for a moment you have to remind yourself that he demonstratively doesn’t have the ability to read your mind. “Not that I couldn’t find something to change that, if I wanted to.”

“You’re sure about that?” The way Sage phrases it is not a question. 

“Absolutely,” you reply, rolling your shoulders back and straightening your slouch. An embarrassing CRACK erupts from your protesting joints. “For starters, who buys a coat with no way to close the front?”

Sage half-chuckles, half-hums. “There’s buttons on the inside, I just don’t see the point in using ‘em is all.”

All-too-eager hands immediately seize the opportunity to fasten closed the front of your borrowed garments, but frustration soon blooms in you once more as you struggle. Sage attempts to direct you - something about a flap near the seam on the left side - but your labors yield no fruits.

“Need some help?” He doesn’t know how, if, he wants you to answer. You shrug, still fiddling with the edges of his coat, and Sage holds his breath before leaping into the deep end. 

He drops to one knee in front of you, smoothing your - his - (it looks better on you, anyway) lapel between his index and thumb as he goes. You freeze, eyes wide, your hands balling into loose fists at your chest - now almost level with his ears. The air feels thick as you inhale.

“May I?” He asks, his voice half-drowned out by a clap of thunder, half by your racing pulse in your ears. You nod almost imperceptibly, eyes searching in vain for something, anything, to focus on instead of the way he’s fixated on the fabric sitting just to the right of your navel.

For a moment, Sage considers making a joke - asking if you’re planning on knocking his eyes out, a quip about what a shame it’d be to hit a man while he’s down - but the words die in his throat. Your chest rises and falls softly, and his ears twitch slightly as the breath of your exhale tickles his hair there. 

He pulls the fabric tighter around you, fingers easily finding the buttons hidden behind tattered seams. Sage has fought for more of his life than he hasn’t. He’s broken fingers, almost lost some, even, more times than he could count. Used his hands and swords and whatever else he could find as a weapon. He remembers sanguine days when it felt more natural to lift a blade than it felt to lift a drink to his lips with his friends, than it felt to lift Tulsi from the floor and carry her to bed. His hands remember more than he cares to admit; scars cannot be so easily erased with a trip to the bar.

There’s a distance between those hands and the hands he uses now to fasten the first button just above your hip bone, he thinks. He works steadily; reverently. In the darkness he has to pause every now and then, running his finger along the seam for a few inches until he finds the next set of buttons. 

You know it’s rude to stare, but this view of the top of his head has your sense of reason in a chokehold. Sage is being careful not to touch you, not exactly - muttering apologies when one of his knuckles skims across the fabric of your clothes; throwing gasoline on the fire burning in your stomach with each gesture. How he’d managed to go most of the day with no shirt on underneath is beyond you, but his long hair curling around his biceps as he carefully works his way up your torso looks so warm, maybe the cold really didn’t bother him that much. You hope his grip on your waist now will be enough to keep your spirit from leaving your body; that’d be an embarrassing conversation with Felix. As he gets closer, and the flashes of lightning come more frequently, you’re able to make out dark flecks on his lower lip and right cheek. Mud? It wasn’t raining when he got to Fathom, and you didn’t see him outside. Blood? Whose? Worries like moths flutter above your head. 

A particularly bright flash illuminates the corridor as Sage secures a button a few inches below your collarbone, and curiosity gets the best of you. You open your mouth to call his name, but your vocal cords work against you. When nothing comes out you take his chin in your hand, maneuvering his face to better look at him. He makes a noise of discontent, but is pliant in your hand. You run your thumb across his bottom lip, carrying thin red streamers of blood against the corner of his mouth.

“Sage, what did you do?” You ask.

His brows meet in the middle like a car crash. “It’s bounty hunting, not nice bounty conversations over dinner. Like I said, shit happens.”

Your finger traces the outline of scratches running below his cheekbone from his hairline. They should be healing, should have been healed before you noticed. 

“This jackass had some kind of enchanted ring or something,” Sage answers the question you didn’t ask. “Got me pretty good across the face, but it’s getting better all the time.”

“Let me help you,” magic is already buzzing underneath your fingertips.

“It’s not that bad.” Sage raises his own hand in an attempt to push yours away, but the look in your eyes stops him in his tracks. “Really - you should’ve seen me earlier, used the last of my socks trying to soak-” 

“Don’t be like that.” You feel his eyes on your face as you push loose strands of hair back from the wounds. 

Sage mutters a reluctant affirmative, and your fingertips warm as the skin of his face stitches itself back together. You rub away dried blood, scrutinizing the pink lines of skin left underneath your touch. How long would it be until you could control your magic enough to leave no traces of injury, until you could keep others from getting injured in the first place? 

Sage feels a stone in the pit of his stomach as your thumb pulls at the skin of his lip again, clinical and calculating. There’s something wrong, deeply wrong, Sage realizes at his own disappointment. He’d set this moment on a precipice and that damn look on your face sent it tumbling off the edge. Your brows are knit together in contemplation; the fevered skin of your palm comforting against the line of his jaw.  

There was something about this moment Sage would never come back from. His head feels dizzy, like he’d gone a moment too long underwater, as your tongue moistens the skin of your lips.

Let me help you. 

Sage opens his mouth, and is stopped in his tracks by the growl your stomach makes. You apologize, cheeks darkening in the dim light, and the two steps you take backwards from him feel like miles.

“I, um, I’m going to go change. I left some street cakes in the kitchen, if you want some.”

Sage stares at the hall you walked down for long after you’re gone.

 *                        *                       *

Sage is sitting on the kitchen counter when you arrive, picking through a paper bag of your street cakes. He doesn’t look up at you, but tosses a bag perfectly in your direction nonetheless. It looks different than it did when you bought it.

“What happened to all the snakes?” You ask, picking through its remnants.

“I thought you didn’t like ‘em,” Sage replies, mouth full and still chewing. In the dim candlelight, his fingers still hold half of an intricately decorated cake that looks suspiciously like a rattlesnake. 

He was right, you didn’t like the snakes. Neither did he. 

The two of you eat in silence.

[poisonouswritings]

In a lot of fanfiction/headcanons MC is shown to be snarky with Rime and you even have the option to taunt him about your relationship with Felix when he first tries to kill you in Felix’s route.

Even though I can imagine I would have less than positive feelings for someone trying to kill me, I think I would still feel bad for a person who had literally been through hell and back and who had returned only to find their lover with someone else.

I think I would try to assure him his friends hadn’t gotten over him, that they had spoken fondly of him and would probably happily take him back if he’d stop soul-stealing.

In future interactions…I think I would try to assure him that Felix didn’t ‘get over’ him just because I had come along. That the way he was acting now: stealing souls, trying to kill people, working with the freaking LoS all made him a far cry from the person Felix had fallen in love with, and it certainly wasn’t just that Rime had become worthless to him or anything. (suddenly realizes one might take offense to that and worries how he’ll react).

I would also try to encourage him to come back with the Starsworn, tell him that maybe his friends will help him and even if they don’t, I will.

So yeah, I’m kinda sensitive, more interested in helping than in banter. Would that make me a wet blanket to him? Or basically, do you have any ideas about how Rime would react to an MC [in Felix’s route] who obviously sympathized with him? Would he be offended by it, not wanting their pity? Would it make him dislike them less? Think they’re less interesting? Etc?

Hi Anon!

Rime is,, a tricky one for me. Part of that is because his character is so radically different between Felix and Sage's route (and he never showed up at all in Anisa's), and part of it is because 9/10 times we see him, he's trying to kill someone.

It sucks that we didn't really get the option to try and reach out to him like this. Maybe a little towards the end of Felix's route, if we're gonna look at it loosely. And then in Sage's route he's just,, like,,, back with the Starsworn for no clear reason. So clearly he's at least open to the idea.

That being said, I think you'd have a lot more luck getting through to him in Sage's route then you would in Felix's. In Sage's route, Felix never ended up accepting Rime's death, Rime never ends up feeling replaced (at least, not in the same way as in Felix's route), etc etc. The main reason he hates us there is because we have the Astrolabe, and you could totally just say something like 'oh the Astrolabe probably just went to me because you were still dead, don't take it personally', and while he'd still be upset he probably would have stopped working with Gramme a lot sooner.

In Felix's route however,,, we see a handful of examples (the most notable being the end of Chapter 13 assuming you were going down that ending) of Rime feeling regretful for the things he's had to do. So I think there's at least a part of him that wasn't corrupted by death/The Void and is still the 'choir boy' that loved his friends and fought for justice. I think that's the part that was most hurt by the Astrolabe rejecting him. It made him feel like he really was evil. But, anyways, genuine sympathy (empathy?) for him would hurt him, at least at first. It would just highlight how good-hearted you are, which is why the Astrolabe chose you and not Rime. Rime might also see it as part of why Felix fell for you, and that hurts him even worse. He would hate you, but he'd hate himself more. It might help him break free of LoS, but I feel like there's a really important piece of the puzzle (about LoS and Rime's partnership) that was going to be revealed in Chapter 14/15 that we'll now presumably never get.

By the same token I'm not the most confident when it comes to how I write Rime so take my opinion with a grain of salt lol

TLDR; Being sympathetic to Rime probably would help in Sage's route but probably wouldn't make a massive difference in Felix's

[ahjustroza]

Do you have any hcs abt Last Legacy modern au?

Sorry for the wait! I just write very slow 🥺😭 btw I am still writing other requests! I'll post them as soon as I finish writing ✨😌😏 And YES I still take requests😏😏😏

Lol btw I haven't played the catboy Felix tale yet but found his delicious CG. Also, there might be typos etc. My dyslexia was a hoe for the last couple of days (･_･

Last Legacy Modern Au Headcanons

Sage

Lmao the first time you went to his place you faced with an ancient-looking old computer that he found in a garage sale

"It still works"

"Sage with its monitor alone you can heat your entire house in winter"

"Aye, but I don't have to use that to get heated if you catch my drift."

Let me give you a concept: thrift store dates

You took him to a thrift store once and thought it might be fun

But at the moment you entered the store Sage found a damn fake fur jacket and gold sunglasses

He will buy anything with a famous brand logo and say it is original and is an antique

But he'll only do that to annoy people

Mostly.

Sage cares about his looks but doesn't go crazy about it

Before dating you he just lived his life like a street kid like in cyberpunk 2077

Sage and Tulsi grew up in slums and then Sage got an apartment so that Tulsi could grow up in a safe environment

He didn't go to college but made sure that Tulsi did

Sage basically works as a mercenary in the modern au as well

He travels a lot and has to disappear for a looong long time

Tulsi is used to it but you aren't

Once you two are in a relationship and he feels ready to settle down he might get a job closeby to your shared house

You made him realize that he needs his family around him

And now he is not alone to carry all the burden by himself

He knows that if he can't make it in time you will be there to help out Tulsi or take care of all the work for him

He feels lighter around you

Also, he makes many people jealous on the streets lol

Whenever you two are on a date no one can believe that you, a literal divine being, could look at a Boku no pico catboy maid-sama man like him.

He is also jealous of you

But never possessive

He likes to send you out of context memes in the worst possible times ever

Like you got Luigi and Mario animations, doing the waltz, with the Britney Spears' Toxic song during the busiest hour of your shift

He also texted "This us"

The audacity

Sage would also LOVE video games

Especially Final Fantasy games

But he suck at playing them so he makes you play instead

And he'll give instructions too

"I saw a checkpoint in the other room babe,"

"Love, I gotta run away from the boss right now."

"It's not the boss, bosses have their boss rooms. This is an obstacle"

Sage also suck at filing taxes

So good luck with that

I can see Sage having PTSD treatments because of his traumatized childhood and the life he had to live until now after settling down with you

You convinced him to go to therapy and Tulsi backed you up

So he will take medications every day

At first, you had to remind him a lot, but then he just made it an addiction and now doesn't need reminders

He was never happier and finally had a taste of a healthy and caring relationship with you

He is also not so terrible with putting the IKEA furniture together.

Felix

He got expelled from Harvard.

Then his rich father had to convince the headmaster to reconsider the decision and Felix ended up with suspension instead smh

Felix's grades are great but he has disciplinary issues

I can see him majoring in criminal justice and mortuary science

Or maybe just mortuary science

Escell was very disappointed in him.

He is also famous for dating with the valedictorian among Harvard graduates

Then they broke up and you yeeted yourself in his life

Or he yeeted himself to your arms

He literally dramatically fell one day and you happened to be close to catch him

Then the Titanic music played in the background with the slow summer rain fell down to your heads

You are hot so he was flustered

Like he internally screamed when he fell in your arms

Or shall I say fell in love?

You two then started as friends since not too later he found out that he might actually have a chance with you after you mentioned your love of video games and romance books

After starting to date he confessed that he has an AO3 account asddgf

Rime was a burden too

He was the one who broke Felix's heart

But still wanted him to only love him and him alone

Then you were like

"Hoe listen to me..."

Rime hot

But no

Felix cried until morning the day you fist fought Rime in the grocery store parking lot

AAHGDHFA

Scylla secretly approved your determination that day and watched the fight afar

Escell got drunk and Florian came home the day after for everyone's explanations

The deeper your relationship got the more a part of his family you become

I mean every Friday it was now a routine that Felix and you attended family dinner

No one even asks anymore they just put your plate down and Escell hides his most expensive wine bottles from everyone

Felix is not good to live in his own house though

He always lived with someone in the house so he wasn't alone

Ever.

When you moved into the same house with him Felix was relieved

You two will be emos together and watch fifty shades of grey movies during the quarantine

Please ask Felix if he thinks the movie is interesting, he will avoid you all day long

Then become a blanket burrito at night lmao

Oh btw he might tell you random facts about mortuary

Like you are in the shower and he comes in to brush his teeth

Then he'll tell you a fact you didn't have to know then leave

"Truly fascinating, if you ask me."

He is also the type to text you from the other side of the room

Or call you from the other room to ask you if you can bring him something to eat

Felix would also love to go to the farmers' market too

"Finally some quality food."

Whenever you two go on a vacation together

lmao someone ALWAYS takes his hand and reads his palm

Only to be ended up getting scolded and getting a proper palm reading from Felix

Anisa

Call her and ask if she wants drive tru

"Love, it is thREE IN THE MORNING, I have work tomorrow-"

"So two? Or nah?"

"Get a coffee."

Actually, she wants a cookie but won't admit it

She knows you'll get her a cookie

You always get her a cookie with coffee

Anisa might be a great investigator if you ask me

If not a detective or a police chief or lieutenant

But I think she would work in law enforcement

Or she might also start her own company and rise as well

Unlike Sage and Felix, Anisa will not live in the same house with you before she decides to settle down for good

It's not because she doesn't want you around her

But because she is always at work and doesn't want to leave everything to you to handle at home

But she is always with you on her day offs

Will call you once a day at least

Text you during her breaks or whenever she can

If you can show up at her workplace during the lunch break she will take you to the nearest coffee shop

"Their coffee is not nearly as good as yours, but among other shops, this is the most drinkable one."

She will spoil you during your dates!

She likes to see you smile and will do anything for you to have a good time with her

So expect sweets, movie nights, amusement park dates, or just traveling during both of your yearly week/month offs/breaks

She won't admit it but likes it when you try to match your clothes with hers

She will know your favorite everythings lol

Take her to a dinner date and she will be so happy and feel spoiled

She will let you paint her nails

Let you get all the hot water in the shower

Will let you wear her clothes

Pillow fights are allowed every now and then

When she gets sick she'll try to power through but likes it when you baby her

Whenever you get sick she will try to not fuss over you but every 15 minutes she'll ask to take you to see a doctor

She is a cereal gal

You might have to drag her to bed many nights because she will take work at home

Oh my god, do play dungeons and dragons with her

If you visited somewhere she has never been she will ask a lot of questions about your trip

Likes to binge a tv series you two found online

Also enjoys just silent but comfortable moments with you

When you read your book she will gaze at you

All heart eyes

Will put her favorite picture of you two as her profile picture in her social media accounts

Will like your every post

ALWAYS TEXTS BACK TO YOU. ALWAYS.

Never leaves you on read/seen

She will either give you a proper text or just let you know that she is busy at the moment

Also if you come home later than her she will ask if you want her to prepare anything special you want for dinner

otherwise, she'll do dishes that you both like anyway

If she is late, she'll call you to ask if you need anything from the grocery store, etc.

[callmegri]

Hi gri! For the soft asks, any or all of 3, 5, 10, and/or 19 please ❤

Tacky!!! Hi 💕

3. what’s your favorite candle scent?

Ohhh I don’t really have one? I am not really a candle person. (I am a huge perfume person though, and I am really picky too and I just found two perrrrrfect ones this weekend and i am so so happy! This and this, I prefer unisex and masculine-leaning scents.) I have one from Ikea from many years ago that I really like, it’s called Bergamot Blossom, and it came in a really nice jar too. I am still only halfway through it four years later. 😅 I plug in my galaxy projector if I want to have some cozy vibes.

5. who do you feel most you around?

Definitely @anisaanisa. We really are twin souls, it is crazy how connected we are. I will forever cherish the whole fandom experience, all the good and bad, because it led me to her. I have other fandom friends and irl ones who I am able to shed my awkwardness and shyness with and have real fun, but Anisa is my sister. (I get really emosh when I talk about her, sorry).

10. what’s something you’re excited for?

So. Many. Things. I love autumn, because it brings the colder weather (I hate the heat. also i cannot dress like myself in the summer), and because it is back to school time. I will forever go to school, so it is good that I enjoy it 😂 I start my first semester as a full time Assistant Professor and I am equal parts scared and crazy excited. I am also really excited for @hdsudsfest, especially because I will participate with a drawing this time.

19. most important thing in your life?

I am definitely in a limbo in my life now, so I have a hard time answering this, but since all my life revolved around literature and reading in one way or another, I have to have that as my answer, right? Other things that are important to me are justice (even when we rarely have it) and kindness. Empathy. Basic human decency. And my meds! Haha.

soft asks to get to know people

[ocean-in-my-rebel-soul]

Gifted to @pinkfadespirit for the @handers-time 2021 Handers Gift Exchange!

Words: 22.2k

Relationships: Anders/Garrett Hawke

Additional Tags: Separation; Reunions; Descriptions of magical and surgical healing; Blood and Injury; gratuitous use of headcanons; and obscure Fade lore; Fade ghosts; Temporary feigned major character death; Kidfic; ish; Semi-Public Sex;

Excerpt

The girl’s leg was broken, Anders could see it from where he stood, outside the milling circle that grew around the girl and her father--Anisa and Gerrin, he was pretty sure. If he didn’t do anything, she would die of poisoned blood or internal bleeding; if she managed to survive the break without him, she’d lose the limb entirely.

A hand tugged at the sleeve of his coat and broke his focus. “Don’t,” Renata hissed, her eyes wide. Her gaze darted around them pointedly, taking in the houses of the village they were passing through, at the people gathering outside the family’s barn, and then down to where blue-white light spilled from the exposed skin of his hands. “We need to make it to Redcliffe—all of us.”

“She’ll die if I don’t do something.” His fingers flexed, the hum of magic building beneath his skin. Anders reached into his pockets for a pair of leather gloves and pulled them on; it was eerie, the way the leather sat over his Fade-cracked skin where he and Justice shared their body. “She needs help.”

Another tug, sharper. “If you do something we’ll all die. You know people fear what they don’t understand.” Renata’s voice quavered. “Please, healer.”

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