#Red Fox Education

[theswedishcatlord101]

Felix’s mum

[redroyalblues]

ok y’all so like i’ve just noticed that there almost seems to be a split second where henry/nick smiles? right after “come on 🤪 loosen up 🤪”

exhibit a:

exhibit b:

and dudes… this is gonna be my undoing i need to know, if this is him smiling, is this a henry being smitten smile or a nick not being able to keep a straight face smile i NEED to know it’s very important for obsession purposes

(screenshots come from gif by @chenfordsbee thank u)

[biologist4ever]

[heartsiebyul]

Hi this is a little more comedic and spicy request. During a sleepover in ramshackle all the first years (aged up and not including Ortho) are playing Never Have I Ever. Ace brings up the topic if anyone has ever had their first time yet looking to embarrass and fry anyone who raised their hand. What no one expected was Sebek and his boyfriend to slowly and shyly raise their hands. Everyone is flabbergasted that straight laced and always serious Sebek had already had his first time before anyone else. And even though Sebek is embarrassed as hell he can't help but feel a little proud of himself. Thanks for hearing me out! 👋

જ⁀➴ Twisted Wonderland x reader!

featuring — First years (aged up!) : Sebek Zigvolt x male reader! cw : slightly suggestive (mention of sex)

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The first years were all camped out in Ramshackle’s living room for a sleepover. Blankets everywhere, junk food piling up and half eaten foods. It was chaos in the best way.

Now the group sits in a circle for the game of Never Have I Ever. The rules are simple, hold up 10 fingers, take turns saying 'Never have I ever,' and put a finger down if you’ve done it. The last one with the most fingers up wins.

Of course, Ace had to be the one to steer the conversation.

Grinning like a fox, he leaned back on his elbows while holding up his fingers and said, “Alright, alright, never have I ever… had my first time.”

Immediate reactions, Jack groaned, Epel rolled his eyes, and Deuce went red in the face.

“Seriously, Ace?”

Everyone looked around, expecting that maybe someone would drop a finger or not.

Then... one finger went down from two people.

Specifically, Sebek and you, both aggressively avoiding eye contact with the group.

The room went dead silent. Clearly didn't expect that.

Epel choked on his soda.

Ace’s mouth fell open. “Wait-wait....WHAT?! SEBEK!?”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, WHAT?!” Sebek barked back, his face already beet red, and his ears practically glowing. “T-THE QUESTION WAS ASKED, AND I-I-IT WAS,” he said, clearly flustered.

"You asked for it, we just answered it," you deadpanned while trying to calm Sebek because his voice was just a bit too loud for the small room.

Deuce blinked, flustered. “Are you saying you’ve… you know, done it?”

Jack rubbed the back of his neck, clearly trying not to stare. “Honestly… I didn’t think you even knew what sex was.”

“I AM NOT SOME CLUELESS FOOL! I—I HAVE STUDIED THE TOPIC EXTENSIVELY!...FOR EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES!”

“It looks like your studying paid off,” you smile teasingly at Sebek.

Sebek’s face turns a deeper shade of red as he huffs, “W-Well—of course it did!"

Ace wheezed.

Epel stared like he was witnessing a miracle. “I thought Sebek’s idea of intimacy was holdin’ hands once a year while screamin’ about Lord Malleus.”

Sebek crossed his arms, scowling with red faced “W-we were careful. Responsible. And—and it was… good.”

The way he said it, half-defensive, half-flustered, and 100% proud that sent the entire room into chaos.

“SEBEK, YOU DOG!”

“No way…”

“Holy crap, I lost to Sebek!”

Sebek tried to keep his composure as you leaned into him, laughing and clearly entertained. His ears twitched, but a small, smug smile crept onto his face.

“…Hmph. I suppose some things are not as they seem.”

Ace was practically rolling on the floor. “Nah, man. I can’t believe this. Sebek beat all of us. We’ve seriously been slacking.”

Sebek cleared his throat, sitting up straighter. “Perhaps next time, you’ll think twice before mocking someone’s ability to attract a partner.”

Best. Sleepover. Ever.

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[dan-the-womans-blog]

Hi! I hope I’m not too late on request but I LOVE the idea of a bimbo reader with Spencer Reid. Could you write one where she is actually really smart (Emily and Spencer smart) and she has amazing style (I’m thinking Megan fox in Jennifer’s body type style). Spencer has this huge fat raging crush on her and always gets super nervous around her and vice versa?

If you don’t like the idea it’s obviously okay, I’m new to requesting things but I thought I would ask!

THANK YOU

NO PROBLEM!

The act of writing distracts me from the real world so thanks it's great timing actually ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠☯⁠෴⁠☯⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Title: Kryptonite

---

The BAU was buzzing with activity when you arrived, your entrance as much a statement as your style. Heads turned as you made your way into the bullpen, your red heels clicking against the polished floor. Your fitted dress—a soft blush pink with a plunging neckline—hugged your curves just right, and your gold earrings swayed with every step.

Emily Prentiss leaned over her desk, smirking as she nudged Derek Morgan. "Here comes Spencer's kryptonite."

Derek grinned, folding his arms. "Poor kid’s gonna faint before he gets a word out today."

You breezed past their desks, offering them a warm smile. "Morning, Emily. Derek."

"Morning, gorgeous," Derek said, flashing you his signature charm.

"Nice dress, Y/N," Emily added, her tone teasing. "You know, this is a federal building, not Paris Fashion Week, right?"

You laughed, stopping briefly at her desk. "What can I say? I like to keep things interesting."

"Oh, you’re doing that," Derek quipped.

Across the bullpen, Spencer Reid sat stiffly at his desk, pretending to read the file in front of him. In reality, he was hyper-aware of your every move. His fingers toyed with the edge of his notebook, and his heart pounded as he tried to calm his nerves.

When you finally approached his desk, he felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs.

"Good morning, Dr. Reid," you said, placing a file on his desk. Your perfume was light but intoxicating, and the way you leaned slightly toward him made his palms sweat.

"H-Hi, Y/N," he stammered, eyes darting between your face and the file.

"Busy day?" you asked, your tone light and playful.

"Uh, yeah. Lots of, um, cases. Profiles. Stuff," he mumbled, cursing himself internally for being so awkward.

From across the room, JJ leaned against Hotch’s desk, watching the interaction unfold with an amused smile. "Do you think Spencer will ever actually talk to her without tripping over his words?" she whispered.

Hotch glanced over, his expression as neutral as ever. "Doubtful."

You tilted your head, studying Spencer with a small smile. "You seem nervous, Spence. Everything okay?"

"Nervous? No! Why would I be nervous? I’m not nervous," he blurted, his voice cracking slightly.

Emily couldn’t help herself. "Reid, if you get any redder, you’re going to set off the fire alarms."

"Emily!" Spencer groaned, burying his face in his hands.

You laughed, your hand lightly brushing his arm. "Don’t listen to her. I think it’s sweet."

Spencer peeked at you through his fingers, his blush deepening. "You do?"

"Of course," you said, your voice softening.

---

Later, in the conference room, the team gathered to discuss the case. You took a seat at the head of the table, confidently laying out your analysis of the unsub’s language patterns.

"The use of archaic phrasing and formal sentence structure suggests someone who’s either highly educated or attempting to appear that way," you explained, flipping through your notes. "Additionally, the recurring themes in their letters—justice, punishment, purification—indicate a fixation on moral absolutes. This unsub likely has a rigid worldview shaped by trauma or indoctrination."

The room was silent for a moment before Rossi spoke up. "Impressive work, Y/N. You should teach a class in profiling."

You smiled. "I’ll leave that to the experts. I just like piecing puzzles together."

Spencer, who had been quietly marveling at your intelligence, finally found his voice. "Y-You’re really good at it," he said, his tone sincere.

"Thanks, Spence," you said, giving him a warm smile that made his heart race.

After the meeting, Emily and Derek cornered him in the hallway.

"So, Genius," Derek said, slapping Spencer on the back. "When are you gonna ask her out?"

"I—I don’t know what you’re talking about," Spencer stammered, avoiding their knowing looks.

"Oh, please," Emily said, rolling her eyes. "You’ve been in love with her since the day she walked in here."

Spencer groaned. "Can we not do this right now?"

---

At the end of the day, as you packed up your things, Spencer nervously approached your desk.

"Y/N," he started, his voice shaky.

You looked up, your expression softening. "Yes, Spence?"

"I was wondering if… maybe you’d like to go out for coffee sometime? Or tea. Or, um, whatever you like to drink," he rushed out.

You blinked, momentarily stunned by his courage. Then, a slow smile spread across your face. "I’d love to."

"R-Really?" he asked, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"Really," you said, stepping closer. "Pick me up at seven. And don’t be late, Doctor."

As you walked away, Emily and Derek appeared from around the corner, both grinning like kids on Christmas morning.

"Finally!" Emily whispered.

Derek chuckled. "Took him long enough."

Spencer, still frozen in place, couldn’t stop the goofy smile that spread across his face.

---

Let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to see from me, requests are always open!

[howlett-dekarios]

𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎

▏Worst!Logan Howlett x Reader

▏Summary: After being forced to help Wade, Logan ends up finding himself a new purpose to live: showing you that you are so much more than just his other late variant lover.

▏Warnings: angst | canon death | depression | self doubting | MDNI

▏Word count: 4k

▏A/n: This is my first story posted here so it's probably not the brightest one since english is not my first language. I'm thinking about writting part 2 though if people gonna like it. Unedited, will fix possible mistakes later.

Yeah his tantrum in the car went too far. He had said words that even if they were true, shouldn’t have left his mouth. But the red suited clown got on his nerves. Saying how he was able to fix it all, damn well knowing how big bullshit it was. 

Oh no, sorry, it was a fucking educated wish. 

Waking up next to Deadpool wasn’t a great memory. First few seconds he had been considering possibly killing that prick in his dream. Suffocating or maybe cutting the head off. Anything to finally shut him up for good. 

But after seeing that one pic after Wilson blacked out, being tied up with safety belts, he just couldn’t. Most of the people on it were complete strangers to him. Some random group of idiots, enjoying their time together. No matter how pathetic excuse of a hero, the red suited man was, he had a family. Logan got it, fuck he understood it too well. That’s why it hurt. Not physically but he had to give to Deadpool for hitting a few good punches. It hurt his ego. How Wade, even being the biggest clown, was able to stand for his world. Not willing to wait and see how it all goes to shit. Not walking away the moment life fucked him to the ground. Not like Logan did. 

He did and he lost it all. Not turning around to fight with his friends. Fight for his close ones. Admit how deep he really cares. Show his vulnerability which he has always been hiding from everyone, even himself. And then instead of getting himself together, trying to do better, be better… he abandoned it all. Sunk in self pity and anger. Killing innocent people who hadn’t even had anything to do with the raid. Losing himself and becoming a dark shadow of himself. 

In his reality, everyone knew the name Wolverine. 

And every single one hated him the same. He fucking deserved it all which was one of the reasons why Deadpool attempts to made him look like a hero were frustrating him. He didn’t want to be one. Didn’t deserve to be. Because if he would, it would be a dishonor to their memory. 

Logan didn’t give a fuck when the angry guy destroyed the bottle. He had seen more of the alcohol hidden here when he searched through the room. While Deadpool took care of talking, Howlett only brought another whiskey, opening it and starting to zero it out again. Laughing at the pathetic attempts of his kidnapper to convince these god forgotten heroes to team up in the fight against Nova. Another lies and bullshiting. 

“Oh please, shut the fuck up!” He finally got irritated enough to interfere. “You’re just an asshole who can’t accept the fact that you fucked up.” 

“I wouldn’t have been here if your handsome old ass hadn't felt like dying in a tragic overpriced act of self sacrifice, because Hugh Jackman got tired of being the main mascot for FOX, thank you very much.” Wade reminded him about the other variant who was an anchor being for his universe. Logan still couldn’t believe that. Who had been stupid enough to choose Wolverine as a great hero to glue the entire world in existence. 

“Whatever.” Another gulp of whiskey landed in his throat. “Why are we even here? Who the hell dragged us here?” His tone was stern as if he would like to argue with whoever brought them there. 

“That would be me.” 

You were patrolling the area after storming out and slamming the door behind you. The arguments were an inevitable part of living in this shithole. Plus Gambit was sometimes really an irritating dickhead. 

Deep down you knew what got you on edge. Johnny not coming back nor giving any sign of life for the last few days. It only reminded you about how this all gonna end up. Every single person who had been sent to Void and hadn't joined Casandra’s gooses has eventually vanished or died. Frank, Eric, Matt and now Johnny. Sooner or later you all will die off. And you have seen enough deaths in your lifetime already. Including one particular one… The one which you never agreed with. Constant stinging that made you cry on lonely nights when Laura wasn’t around. You could still recall how tightly you had been holding his corpse. Begging for one more miracle that never came. 

Suddenly your attention turned to a car which you knew too damn well. Nicepool’s Honda. From all the Deadpools he was the only particular one who was allowed to enter the area. Keeping in touch by being a messenger between his other variants and other people who survived. Being considered as a normal one. Or more like as normal as any Wade Wilson could be. But nonetheless even he couldn’t barge in without any previous announcement. 

“For fuck’s sake Nice, how many times we need to-“ You groaned but closer you got, it was more obvious that something was really wrong. 

Looking into the vehicle, your heart stopped. 

It couldn’t be. 

The woman who entered the room was probably in her late twenties or early thirties but Logan couldn’t be sure. Unlike your friends you weren’t wearing the superhero suit. Looking very domestic even, considering their surroundings. 

“Oh my Faige, it’s her!” Deadpool looked back at his companion in disbelief and excitement, his inner nerd showing up. “I’m a big fan. Deadpool or Marvel Jesus, but you can call me Wade, peanut. Oh fuck me, the cameos really cost fortune.” By your confused eyes Howlett could bet that you haven’t understood any shit Wilson just said, but in the end you nodded acknowledging his introduction. 

You hadn’t talked much in the whole conversation, more focused on listening and hanging on young girl, Laura as Wade previously mentioned. When the man in the red suit finally came with a plan and recruited all the heroes in, you only nodded, looking indifferent. Presumably only agreeing because others did. It made Logan curious but not enough to stick with all the clowns in spandex. In the end, this whole plan was a suicide mission and he will take no part in it. 

Yes it would be easy to just die. Too easy. 

“Love, I know, I get it.” You sighed, couldn’t blame Laura for wanting to try. To talk with her father even if it wasn’t really him. But it was dangerous. Possibly giving younger girl's hope. You knew it all too well. You’ve already seen it all. Been there in Wolverine’s lowest. And this variant? It just screamed trouble. An unsuccessful suicidal who just wanted to stay in his self pity and misery hole. It was the last thing that your daughter needed. But either way, you decided to support Laura. The girl was old enough to make her own choices, only thing that mattered was her knowing the possible outcomes. “You want to talk with him, but… it’s not Logan.” Not yours. 

“I know it!” The desperation in teen’s voice made you close your eyes. It was already too late to change her mind. “I know. He died. He’s gone. But he’s still Logan. Maybe not ours, but… he feels familiar.” Drunk, broken and running from everything and everyone. “I want to try. Talk with him and see who he truly is.” 

You sighed once again but nodded, walking towards the younger one and closing your arms around the teen. 

“Okay. But be careful and don’t let him get in your head.” 

“I always am, you know me.” Laura smiled and left to meet the variant of her father who had been sitting outside. 

After a few minutes of standing there and overthinking, you decided to focus on training which was a routine for clouding your damn brain. Anything that could be used as a distraction. Exhaust you to the point where your muscles were sore. 

You had a very bad feeling about it all. At the beginning when you both ended up in Void you had been praying for any variant of Logan to be sent there. So you could’ve felt his arms one more time. Hear his voice and smell his cologne. But with every passing day that hope slowly vanished, leaving you with only grief and emptiness in heart. 

“Such a coincidence, huh?” Gambit leaned over the door with a smart smile, looking at how you’ve been boxing the punching bag. 

“Not in a mood for your teasing, Remmy.” You didn’t hold any grudges from the morning fight. Especially after agreeing to fight Cassandra. It would be a shame if one of your last memories together would’ve been an argument. 

“You let Laura talk with him. Quite impressive.” Clearly your friend had other plans. 

“And what do you think I should’ve done, what?” An irritated look was sent towards him, but Gambit only walked closer. “She’s almost grown up woman. She can do whatever she wants.” 

“Yeah, I know and I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. Actually I’m surprised you weren’t the first person who ran to him.” His smirk only made you instantly regret not leaving the room the second he entered. 

“Excuse me?” 

“I only say that you finally have a chance.” 

“Chance for what, Remmy? Because let me tell you-“ 

“Don’t act stupid because it doesn’t suit you. You’ve missed Logan since you got here. You can try to lie to yourself about being over him but we all hear your little sobs when you think no one is looking. This fucked up universe finally gave you a chance to heal. To get better by facing your past-“ 

“He is not my past for god’s sake!” Not that Wolverine. “And is none of your fucking business, Remmy!” You walked over to him quickly, pointing a finger into his chest. Your emotions conflicted even more than ever before. Shit, you warned Laura not to be brainwashed and here you were, getting more and more confused by it all. All the years you’ve spent with Logan, your Logan, just to see him die on your eyes. And now the other untouched and very alive one is talking with your freaking daughter. You looked in Gambit’s eyes, breathing rapid. “Listen I know what you’re trying to do. I get it that we all gonna die tomorrow but it’s not an excuse for me to do something stupid.” To betray Logan like that. 

“Honey.” Remmy’s hand squeezed your arm reassuringly. “I won’t make you listen to me, but… I’m your friend. Your happiness is my business. And believe me… maybe I didn’t know your Logan, but if he really loved you… he would like you to live. Not only exist in constant grief.” His tone was serious which was rather an unusual thing for Gambit. “Think about it, okay? That’s all I’m asking for.” 

You knew how your friend had your best interest in minds but fuck… he hasn’t got it any better. 

After making sure that Laura had already fallen asleep, you walked out of the hideout building with your arms wrapped around yourself. 

“You gonna get cold.” 

His grumpy voice reached you sooner than expected. Screw the heightened senses…

“I’m okay unlike you.” A basic observation. The light of fire illuminated his posture and the already half emptied bottle of whiskey. Thanks to his mutation it wouldn’t affect him as much as a normal human but it wasn’t about ending drunk and you knew it. It never has been about it. Not when it came to Wolverine. “You know that we have spare rooms, right?” Thanks to the constant rotation of people around in the Void. “Your friend already occupied Johnny’s bed. You’re not gonna really rest here. The ground is rather cold and uncomfortable. That is if you even want to sleep.” Which you doubted. 

“I’m fine.” Another rough grumble, while you sat next to him. 

“Yeah, clearly.” An obvious hint of sarcasm in your voice. You stretched out a hand, signaling to pass the bottle what was met with his judging glance. But he did it anyway. 

“So since the young one hasn’t done her job to talk me into going with you, they’ve sent another one?” A low chuckle left him. Logan wasn’t looking at you, his eyes longing, focused on fire. “Sorry to disappoint you sweetheart but I’m not a hero.” 

“I know you’re not. I’m not here to try to make you change your mind. It won’t work.” The sureness in your voice was evident and it surprised him a bit. 

“Then what are you here for? Want to share your teary story? The red asshole already told me what the other one did and-“ 

“There is nothing to share. He died, I survived but it made no difference.” Probably the most painful aspect of your lover’s death. How it didn’t fucking matter. Not even a week after the events in North Dakota agents of TVA showed up in the hotel room you and Laura stayed in, evaporating you two without much explanation. Some bullshit how you had no reason to exist anymore since Wolverine was gone. 

But your words… how you were so indifferent about it all. It didn’t sit right with Logan. Your facade and previous convo with Laura… it all made him curious. Waking up some part of him that Logan was so sure was already dead. 

“Listen I…” A long sigh left him, finally looking at your face. Shit, it was the first time he saw you so close and there was no doubt why his other variant was so fond of you, how really pretty you were. Your soft face, grey eyes intelligent and shining because of the warm glow of the fire. “I’m not good at this. Apparently I’m the worst person for it. I’m not him.” 

“You are not. And I don’t expect you to be.” 

“You’re always so pessimistic?” Logan couldn’t understand why he even tried to joke but he had that deep feeling inside of him that told him to just do it. To try. 

“Just when I’m alone. I’m trying to keep myself sane along Laura.” 

“Smart girl by the way. Didn’t take any bullshit. Did a good job in raising her.” 

“I know.” Gambit’s words still rang in your head so you decided to be less defensive. “Thanks.” Your tone changed to a more polite one. 

“She’s not your bio daughter.” It wasn’t really a question but you shook your head anyway, which made Logan smile lightly. “Damn, he had to be a lucky bastard if you were willing to treat his kid as your own.” 

“She is my own.” Not biological but Laura was your daughter. 

“How long you’ve been together?” 

“Asked me out not too long after he joined X-Men. Stayed with him to the end. Almost ten years.” 

He kept looking at you intently, his eyes searching the face as if trying to recognize any familiar features on it. Ten years of being together. How on earth could someone care about the broken man like that? He couldn’t understand it.

“You never… gave up on him? Despite knowing he was a complete mess?” You chuckled at that. The first fully honest reaction. Shit, Logan had to admit how lovely the sound was. 

“He was asking the same questions, you know? And no. I never gave up on him, because he never gave up on me.” 

He let out a faint laugh at that, thinking that the other him must have been a damn saint to deserve your love and loyalty.

“So you two… you were in love huh?” 

“Yes… yes you can say that.” A simple nod, feeling a mix of curiosity and something else he couldn’t explain. The idea of someone loving him was completely foreign to him, and the fact that you loved a different version of him was even weirder.

“What was he like? The other me.” 

You looked at Logan, first time being face in face since your lover died. At first glance this variant was completely different. Younger, healthier, more bulky… but the features stayed the same. Small wrinkles around the eyes which color reminded you of all the times you had woken up in his arms. The softness that appeared only when it came to you… 

“You are so sure of your difference. But the truth is that, fuck, you’re so similiar… familiar.” You couldn’t believe your own words. After all day of denying that, now sitting next to him it all came back to bite your ass. The memories, scent, how your body instantly relaxed just because of him being close. “Both of you are thinking that you’re fucked up, that you’re the worst one for your job, that you are only good and capable of hurting others. But it’s not true. You are always on the right side, protecting people you care about… you can’t stand and just watch how everything goes down.” 

Logan could see the honesty in your eyes and the words made his stomach clench. You,  sounding so sure and so convinced that it almost made him want to believe it. But he’s always been too aware of how messed up he was, too aware of the fact that he was just a broken old man who’s only good at causing pain and violence. That his whole universe turned their back on him exactly because of how he left and watched from afar how it all burned to the ground. 

“You don’t know me, bub. You know another me. Don’t go getting ideas that I’m anywhere close to him.” 

“Oh really? Then why are you constantly drinking yourself out? Why are you here, helping Wade, huh?” 

The accusations only made him grit his teeth. These words… just stating the obvious, but it bothered him anyway. He looked at you and couldn’t help the defensive tone in his voice, as if he was trying to prove that he was in fact, the wrong Logan. 

“You don’t know why I drink, sweetheart. You don’t know why I’m here. So stop acting like you do know me.” 

“You drink because you fucking care Logan. You care so much that it hurts you, the knowledge about losing people you loved. You’re here because deep down you know that you have to help Wade, that it’s your duty to help innocents.” At this point you weren’t even sure to which Logan you were talking to. Maybe it all were just unspoken words that you couldn’t have said to your lover because he died too soon. Or maybe your brain had other plans for her. 

A pang of surprise struck him. You were hitting uncomfortably close to the hidden part of himself that he so hard tried to kill off and it made him grow more frustrated and vulnerable than he’d like to show. 

“How can you be so damn sure about it?” How could you if he wasn’t even himself? 

“Because I know you, Logan. No matter if it was him, or if it’s you. No difference. You’re the same Logan.”  

“The same, huh sweetheart? Don’t make me laugh. That other me, the one you knew, was loved. Cared for. You obviously cared for him.” The walls he had built for all the time he was alone were slowly falling. “In my world everyone knows my name. Because I fucked up. Your Logan died as a hero. I can’t even die.” Not because he hasn’t tried to. But because of how his death would be a disrespect for all the other people he cared about in the past. Him living was the punishment he deserved. “I’m useless, darling.” 

“Yeah I loved him. But I buried him long time ago. And the moment I did the TVA came and told me that my purpose was over. That I was just a side lover with no further reason to be kept alive. You really think you are the useless one?” Your true feelings finally flowed out. All the concerns and insecurities. After years in the mansion, being an x-men you really thought that you found yourself. That you were so much more than you once thought. But no. The universe only needed you because Logan did. 

“What?” His confused face was enough proof that he hadn’t even thought about why exactly Laura and you were here. “It can’t be… you can’t say that stuff about yourself.” Logan couldn’t point out why, but he immediately changed his perspective. Something in his brain pushed him out of the self pity hole and guilt trap he has been in for years. Hearing that the most perfect woman he ever met, the kind and caring person who sat beside him was born only for his other self to be with… it didn’t sit right. “You are much more than that, sweetheart.” 

“You don’t know me.” The fact that you just repeated his previous words made his blood boil. For fuck’s sake why he had to be such an idiot all the time.

“Don’t be a smartass, and don’t you fucking dare to hide behind it now. You stayed with that asshole for ten goddamn years. You raised his daughter and are treating her like your own. You’re trying to help me, who’s just a pathetic excuse of a man constantly self pitying himself. Screw what those bastard told you. You are not just a lover. You are your damn fucking person.” Logan’s hand cupped your cheek. His eyes were so serious and demanding but at the same time gentle and worried. “Look at me, princess. You are an intelligent, patient, kind, strong and absolutely beautiful woman, who is not just a puppet that can be thrown away, you get it? I don’t have any idea why the fuck universe had chosen the other me to be this screwed glorified idiot, because it should’ve been you. I should’ve been the addition that was unnecessary for existing. Because you? You are the reason why he existed. Why I-“ 

The word slipped through his lips before could stop himself. All the emotions and things he heard that day, all he had seen. How Laura treasured you, how others respected you, how Wilson was fangirling and almost came just because of you being in the same room. Listening to your story of how much you’ve cared about the other him. It made him want it all. Wanted to be the other him. Do something to deserve your love. To show you how much you were supposed to be loved. How you should be a treasure to keep safe and protect at all costs. 

“Fuck it-“ 

And before you could’ve reacted, Logan reached for you, closing the distance and pressing your lips together. Trying to savor the taste of you on him, deepening it like his life depended on it. Living the moment of pure oblivion, wanting you to forget about it all. About the other him, TVA, Void and everything else. Tell you without using words how much he loved you. 

Yes, he didn’t deserve you. But it wasn’t about him. Not anymore. 

[wiselyghost]

Incorrect Quotes part 2

ghost: Comparing y/n and soap is like comparing apples and oranges.

y/n: We’re both unique in our own ways?

ghost: Apples are superior in every way and all oranges should be eliminated.

soap: Which one of us is the orange?

soap was later shot 27 times in the bronx

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laswell: Do you want to explain the text you sent me last night?

y/n: It was autocorrect.

laswell: Autocorrect wrote "You're so hot. Please step on me mommy."?

y/n: Yes.

(in y/n we trust ✊)

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price : Hey guys, I found a spider. Cool little lad. Thanks for eating the mosquitos.

price : Oh no, where did it go?

Gaz: PRICE WHAT THE FUCK?!

price: GAZ GET OFF THE FUCKING ROOF-

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Gaz: If I ever had a child, I imagine they would be a lot like you.

Y/n: Aww, thanks—

Gaz: Which is probably why I’ve never reproduced.

Y/n:........

Y/n: I wouldn't either if it was like you it's forehead would be to fucking big.

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Ghost: I have issues.

Soap: Finally, you admit it! The first step to redemption is accept-

Ghost: With you

dawg just make out already 😭

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Y/n: Smart is attractive. Educate me on something I don't know!

König: The mouth of a jellyfish is also an anus.

Ghost: Stop.

Y/n: Don't ever stop

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Soap: Why is Ghost crying on the floor?

Gaz: He took one of those 'what person are you?' quizzes.

Soap: And?

Gaz : He got Y/n.

(currently Ghost)

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Soap: You are the love of my life and I would do anything within reason to make you happy.

Y/n: I would be happy if you ate, stayed hydrated and got a reasonable amount of sleep.

Soap: I said within reason, Y/n. How about I murder that guy?

Y/n: So murder is in reason but proper self care isn't?

Soap: Well, duh. What kind of question is that?

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Gaz: You know guys, sometimes I feel like Ghost doesn't take me seriously enough.

Price: "Sometimes"?

Y/n: "Enough"?

Gaz:......

Y/n: Change that to 'at all' and we'll talk.

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Y/n: Wait, what's going on? Are we all talking about how hot Ghost is? Because Ghost is a straight up sexual fox riding a red-hot nuclear bombshell right toward the yowza plaza in the heart of Babe City, Assachusetts, U S A. The last A just stands for more ass.

Price: Where the fuck do you come up with these things.

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Price: While I'm gone, you're in charge Y/n.

Y/n: Yes!

Price, whispering to Ghost: You're secretly in charge, but I don't want them to feel bad.

Ghost: Obviously.

HIII GUYSSS WISELY IS BACK BABYYYY!!!

I have been gone for a really long time my bad gang but am back in bussines! this was just a little something l though over and thought you guys would like it :) I am open to requets just go to my page and ask! i hope all you beautiful people have a good night/moring/afternoon!

-wisely

[prythiansprincess]

CHAPTER EIGHT | TSOFAS.

pairing: azriel x reader.

word count: 5,763

author’s note: this chapter was so fun to write! the lady of the autumn court has always intrigued me so diving into her backstory really challenged me creatively. there will definitely be more of her in this series, but for now, I hope you like my characterization of her as much as I do.

♫ how villains are made - madalen duke. nav. series. moodboard.

The Golden Garden was packed by the time you arrived. In true Autumn Court fashion, no expense had been spared for the grand luncheon. The lush rooftop garden was lined with tables decorated in deep warm tones and gilded ivy. Each seat was marked by a placard written in elegant golden script, the names scrawled upon the parchment growing more and more prominent as you neared the dais. 

In the center of it all sat an ornate rosewood table that stretched across an elevated platform. The seats contained no names, but there was no mistaking who they were reserved for. A high back chair positioned at the head displayed the Vanserra family crest — a snarling fox with a tail of fire. As if the crowd needed a reminder of the wretched male that would soon occupy the seat.

The nobility milled about below the dais, discussing this season’s harvest or whatever business venture they were currently pursuing that would place even more gold into their greedy little hands. Their words were pleasant enough, but their smiles were as sharp as the twin blades sheathed underneath your dress.

Beside you, the shadowsinger fussed over his doublet for the millionth time. “Absolutely ridiculous,” he muttered to the velvet material.

The shadowsinger grimaced as you pinched the inside of his arm. The insufferable male had spent the entire carriage ride complaining about his clothing and if you had to hear about the tightness of his trousers one more time, you might strangle the irritating Illyrian right then and there.

“You look fine,” you hissed in response before plastering on a smile for the benefit of the crowd. “I’m the one in the rib-crushing corset. If you knew the agony every breath brought, you would surely thank the Mother for those godsdamned trousers.”

Azriel scowled, examining your attire. The skirts of your golden cape whispered against the cement as he guided you through the archway and the large sapphire ring on your finger caught the sunlight as you clasped onto the shadowsinger for support. You silently cursed whoever invented the torture device that were corsets in the first place. 

“This shirt is so uncomfortable,” the shadowsinger had the audacity to say. 

With a false smile, you dug your nails into Azriel’s arm and lowered your voice into a hiss. “My tits are quite literally being crushed by whale bone. Your discomfort is the last thing on my mind.”

Before the shadowsinger could retort, Eris stepped directly into your path. A welcome interruption, even if it was provided by the devil himself. 

“You two make quite the handsome couple,” your cousin teased with a grin. As usual, Eris was dressed in reds and golds, bringing out the copper shade of his hair. His sharp amber gaze danced over Azriel’s stiff posture. “Glad to see you in Autumn Court attire. I wasn’t quite sure of the measurements, but it looks like Alinta worked her magic.”

Indeed, the old witch had included hidden panels on the back of Azriel’s shirts, but one would have thought she’d put barbs in them instead with the way the shadowsinger frowned. Despite his displeasure, Azriel leveled a cool, hard gaze at Eris. Gone was the annoying whiny male from earlier, replaced now by the lethal mask of the spymaster.

“My betrothed was kind enough to educate me on the customs of your court.” Hazel eyes raked over you, mild amusement dancing in that gaze of liquid honey. “It seems that velvet conveys a far friendlier message than leathers.” 

But I’m still every bit as lethal, Azriel seemed to convey with a sharp smile. 

No amount of finery could mask the warrior hidden beneath. Eris seemed to realize this as well. 

“A well crafted message, shadowsinger. One that this court and its ruler will no doubt receive with caution.”

At the mention of Beron, the male appeared at the edge of the garden. The High Lord strolled through the path of the beating sun as a hush of silence fell amongst the nobles. His loyal subjects bowed one by one, but you kept utterly still, meeting those cruel, dark eyes as his gaze fell upon you. You held his stare for as long as you could to the point of insolence before bowing with the rest of the room. 

As you explained to Azriel earlier, the court herald announced the High Lord first, followed by Eris, and then Flint, Roux, and Wren. Your godsawful cousins. 

After they took their place up on the dais, you and Azriel were up next. You swallowed thickly before dropping the cape around your shoulders. As you sauntered up to the dais, spears of sunlight licked at your skin like flames and you glowed in your golden dress like fire given form. The intricate wings tattooed on your back came to life, fluttering between your shoulder blades and spreading until they proudly unfurled for all to see. Whispers swept through the room like wildfire and the blatant stares of the High Fae burned holes into you, but it was Azriel’s gaze that you couldn’t seem to shake. 

There was something burning in his hazel gaze. Something like awe and surprise and admiration rolled up into one. 

You tried not to dwell on it as he fell into step beside you, gracefully placing a hand on the small of your back as though it was the most natural thing in the world. The shadowsinger’s fingers curved protectively around your hip as you ascended the dais, his wings tucked tightly behind him to mirror your tattoo. 

The message itself was clear — you may have once called this place home, but you didn’t belong here any more. The Night Court, Velaris, the Inner Circle; they were your home. The only family you had as far as you were concerned. The High Lord would do well to remember that. 

Beron’s calculated glare simmered with rage. You schooled your features into neutrality even though the sight brought you an exorbitant amount of satisfaction. The anger in his eyes dissipated far too quickly for your liking as he directed his gaze behind you. A smirk tugged at his cruel mouth before you came face to face with your aunt. 

The Lady of Autumn was the spitting image of your mother. Your aunt may have been a Vanserra in name, but she was a Thorne through and through. The olive coloring, the signature maroon head of hair, even the dimples that were ever present on your own face, felt like a punch to the gut.

You couldn’t breathe and it had nothing to do with the corset. In the darkest pits of your heart, you felt the restless churning of wrath wrap around you like a torrential wind gathering momentum. All the anger and rage and grief spiraling faster and faster, threatening to destroy anything and everything in its path. 

A cold, but calming sensation swirled through your wrist. You blinked as shadows knocked you out of your stupor, staring at the inky tendril caressing your arm. Slowly but surely, you felt the storm within you break. 

Beside you, Azriel dared to glance over. His face was unreadable, but his scarred hand found yours and his grip seemed to anchor you back to the present. You were here. You were fine. This was your aunt, not the ghost of your mother. 

And you both had appearances to maintain. 

The small curtsy you offered your aunt might have been the only genuine act you’ve committed since stepping foot in this place. The skirts of her burgundy gown swept against your feet and you inclined your head slowly to meet those familiar amber eyes. 

“Dearest niece,” she greeted softly. Your aunt didn’t dare embrace you or project any more warmth than necessary. Not under the watchful eyes of her husband. “The High Lord and I welcome you and your betrothed to the Autumn Court. “

With all the grace of a noble prince, Azriel bowed low. “It’s an honor to be welcomed into your home, Lady.”

Your aunt smiled gracefully until her gaze flitted behind you. As you’ve witnessed a thousand times before, the joy faltered from her expression as soon as she met her husband’s gaze. 

“Enough pleasantries,” Beron declared in a bored tone. The High Lord rose from his seat as you and Azriel took your place beside Eris. 

Beron clapped his hands together, garnering the attention of his court. 

“Friends, family, and honored guests, today we celebrate the engagement of my niece and the shadowsinger.” Hateful black eyes surveyed you with a cold, calculated gaze. “Let this unconventional union signify that unlikely alliances are most necessary in these ever changing times.” 

You narrowed your eyes, catching the double meaning within his words. Beron was indeed making unlikely alliances with death gods and Cauldron knew who else. As though sensing your suspicions, the High Lord raised his glass in your direction. 

“A word from our honored guests?” 

There was a challenge behind your uncle’s invitation, but you only smiled, twining your fingers through Azriel’s as you both stood. 

“Azriel and I are grateful to be welcomed into the Autumn Court with such open arms. I have missed these lands in my absence, but a fox always returns to its den. If only to parade my handsome fiance in front of the fine ladies of this court.” 

A chuckle swept through the crowd as numerous gazes landed on the shadowsinger. Azriel chuckled, pulling you closer by the waist. The action was full of certainty and possessiveness, making your cheeks bloom with heat. 

“Don’t tease, my lady. You know I only have eyes for you.” You could’ve sworn you heard a sigh to your right, but you kept looking at Azriel as he addressed the audience. “Y/N and I look forward to our stay with you. We greatly appreciate the hospitality of the High Lord and Lady.”

The courtiers clapped, seemingly enthralled by Azriel’s charm. It almost made you do a double take of the male before you. Sometimes you forgot that the shadowsinger was just as skilled in standing out as he was in blending in. A skill he no doubt honed to perfection over his years of service as the spymaster. You had to give it to Azriel. He was a damned good actor. 

The flash of annoyance crossing over Beron’s features almost brought a smile to your face. The High Lord bristled as he addressed his subjects once more, raising a golden goblet in his hand. 

“Let the feast begin.” 

At his declaration, streams of servants weaved through the spacious rooftop, bringing with them an array of decadent dishes. Fine cuts of meat, freshly baked bread, and a colorful assortment of fruits and vegetables were laid out on the table before you. The excess left a vile taste in your mouth, knowing the poverty and starvation that many members of this court suffered from under Beron’s egregious policies. 

The High Fae seemed oblivious to the exorbitant display of overindulgence. As far as they were concerned, it didn’t matter if those in the countryside were barely scraping by on stale bread and rotten produce as long as they could drink their fill of faerie wine and turn a blind eye to those in need. Even before your exile, the obvious disparity between the nobility and the working class had always disgusted you. 

While you were aware of the privilege your station provided you, your mother had always taught you that the farmers, workers, and tillers of this court were just as important as any of the nobles. Even more so because they were responsible for ensuring that there was a steady supply of food in these lands. During your childhood, you’d often visit the vineyards in the countryside and learned of the hard work and toil it took to produce the wine that brought your family fortune. 

Back then, your grandparents taught you the importance of valuing those who worked under them. It didn’t matter if the nobles snubbed their noses up at what they called lesser faeries — a term that has always struck you as extremely offensive and unbelievably tone deaf — these workers were the lifeblood of the Autumn Court and they deserved to be treated with respect. 

It was a sentiment that the High Lord vehemently opposed. Beron only valued individuals who could offer him something in return, be it money, power, or influence. Being faced with it now made your stomach curdle. Having experienced hardship and starvation before Rhys and Serena took you in, this whole charade seemed even more unbearable now than you recalled. 

You clenched the silks of your skirts in one hand as an older dryad poured faerie wine into the goblet in front of you. 

“Thank you.” You declared in gratitude, nearly startling the female. Judging from her reaction, she probably wasn’t used to having her presence acknowledged. 

“It’s a pleasure to serve you, my lady. It is good to have you home.”

“Enid, isn’t it?” you asked softly, recalling the dryad from your childhood. She had served Beron’s court when you were first brought to the Forest House. “How is your son?” 

The dryad’s eyes lit up. “He’s doing well, my lady. By the grace of the Mother, Arun is serving in the Westerlands. Lord Bronwyn personally chose him to be a member of his personal guard. ” 

“I am pleased to hear that. The Briars are an honorable family and their estate is quite beautiful. Do you and your husband get to visit often?” 

Enid’s smile faltered. “My husband passed away some years ago. It is only Arun and I now.”

“I am sorry to hear that, Enid. Drakkar was a good male. I offer you my deepest condolences. Please let me know where he’s laid to rest so I may pay my respects.” 

“Drakkar is in the country, my lady. I have been told his grave is quite beautiful.”

“You haven’t seen it?” you asked incredulously. 

The dryad wrung her hands. “I was given a day to mourn at the temple, but I was not present when he was laid to rest. I’m afraid my duties at the Forest House would not allow for much leave.” Her sad eyes filled with apprehension before sharpening into fear. “Please do not construe that as anything but gratefulness for the High Lord and Lady. It is a privilege to serve them.” 

You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but there was nothing you could offer her. What worth would meaningless words of comfort hold against an ocean of grief?  

“I am sure the Vanserrras are glad to have you and your son in their employ,” Azriel said gently, flashing her a soft smile. “I do hope to meet Arun at the tourney. Perhaps he can teach me a thing or two about swordsmanship.” 

Enid brightened at that. “My Arun would be honored. Thank you, my lord.”

“Please, call me Azriel.” 

The dryad blushed before curtsying and returning to her duties. You turned your attention upon the shadowsinger, carefully examining the male. Despite his earlier complaints, Azriel seemed to be faring well with the people of this court. And what he said to Enid…you weren’t quite sure what to make of it. 

Before you could ponder it any longer, Eris was gesturing at your side. “Stay alert, lovebirds. Here comes the sharks,” You looked up to find a small gathering approaching the table. “And they’re out for blood.” 

Everyone from the youngest maidens of the court right down to the married courtesans approached under the guise of congratulating your engagement, but you weren’t fooled. More than half of them were nearly drooling at the sight of Azriel. 

The shadowsinger seemed to take the female attention in stride, donning his charming smile and slinging smooth compliments here and there that made the ladies swoon. You locked eyes with Azriel across the table and he briefly touched his brows to show that they were free of any trace of judgment. You couldn’t help but snort.

The amusement was short-lived as soon as Beron came into view. He occupied the seat that Azriel had vacated, flashing you a false smile to appease the clever eyes of his court. 

“A fine parlor trick,” the High Lord commented in a tone devoid of humor. 

He rested his arm over your chair, his rough, calloused fingers briefly brushing against your tattoo. You stiffened as he made contact with the raised bumps of the half-healed scars upon your back. The skin had been burned over and over again in a way that even your healing abilities could not erase. The marks were as ugly and hateful and brutal as the male that inflicted them. 

“Perhaps this court will adopt the barbaric customs of Rhysand’s people,” Beron mused as his gaze fell upon two figures in the midst of the crowd. Fallon and Astor. “I shall think to add my own flair, of course. I’d rather enjoy gifting the twins with marks that rival your own.”

The scars on your back began to burn. “No,” you breathed. Panic rose in your chest as you took in the fair haired sisters, laughing and jesting with those around them. Oblivious to Beron’s threats. 

“Then cover these up, niece.” The High Lord said with a tap between your shoulders. Though it was barely a touch, you flinched all the same. “Or I shall make good on my promise.”

Without another word, Beron was gone, but the phantom burn of his touch lingered on your skin like a brand.

Sorrel Vanserra had always loved the sunset. 

The Lady of Autumn watched as the golden rays cast pink and orange hues across the horizon and basked in its light before it escaped her once more. For a brief moment, she closed her eyes and soaked in the sun before fixing her gaze across the courtyard. A fist took hold of her heart and squeezed once she laid eyes on a familiar streak of scarlet. There, in the glow of the Golden Garden, stood the ghost of her sister. 

Out of the three Thorne sisters, Laurel had always burned the brightest. Where Annalise was the silent and stoic second born and Sorrel the cunning and clever youngest, Laurel was known to be bold and fearless, challenging authority and testing boundaries whenever she could. As the eldest of the family, Sorrel had looked up to Laurel her whole life. She admired the fact that her sister refused to fit into the mold of a proper noble lady. 

“When I grow up,” Sorrel recalled herself telling Laurel. “I want to be just like you, Lo.” 

“You’re not going to be like me, sœurette.” Laurel leaned down and brushed her hair back, golden eyes twinkling with mischief. “You’ll be better in every way.” 

Somehow Sorrel doubted that. Even at a young age, Laurel exhibited a natural talent for magic, but her power had been as wild and unruly as she was, which is how the old witch came to serve the Thornes. Their parents had brought in Alinta to hone Laurel’s magic, but her older sister insisted on including Annalise and Sorrel for every lesson. 

During these sessions, Sorrel learned the truth about her home. The Autumn Court had not always been the den of lies and deceit that it was now infamous for. There was a time when the court prospered under different leadership. When the High King fell, Fionn’s death caused a power vacuum in Prythian. The High Fae were in disarray, fighting and bickering amongst themselves. One by one, each court broke off and created their own territory.

Though her name had been wiped from history, the land still remembered its founder, a powerful witch named Serafina — their ancestor. Sorrel remembered tales of a better court, led by a fair leader, told to her and her sisters by the old witch. The Autumn Court flourished during this time, but eventually the power and influence Serafina amassed caused the people to question her. 

Rumors swirled throughout the court that Serafina was a dark witch capable of horrors beyond their imagination. It was said that she possessed a power that defied the natural order of things. The power of death, strife, and chaos. An abomination. 

Eventually, the witch hunt had been successful in sowing suspicion against Serafina. In the end, Sorrel’s ancestor had been burned at the heart of the very land she created by the hand of Casimir Vanserra. The man that would then become the first High Lord of the Autumn Court. 

For centuries, the Autumn Court had been suffering under the rule of the Vanserras. Corruption became the currency at court and power was wielded without mercy, often at the expense of those who found themselves without. The legacy of Serafina was forgotten, but the land remembered. 

The Thornes remembered. 

Once the sisters learned the truth, they worked tirelessly to restore the Autumn Court back to its former glory. Laurel learned about the magic of the land, its strange power still calling to Serafina. Annalise trained as a warrior and amassed allies and armies for the inevitable civil war. Despite their efforts, they knew that none of their plans would come to fruition unless they had access to the inner court. 

“It has to be me,” Sorrel declared to her sisters. 

Laurel and Annalise had looked at her in horror, shaking their heads vehemently. “No,” Annalise said firmly. “There has to be another way.” 

“The only way that the court will fall is from the inside,” Sorrel explained. “I must marry the High Lord.” 

“I will take your place,” Annalise pleaded desperately. 

“You are a warrior, Annie. You have never desired to be a wife. I will not condemn you to a life at the royal court. Besides, you are our main contact for our allies and armies. We cannot risk it.” 

“You don’t have to do this,” Laurel said as she clasped her younger sister’s hand. “Please, sister.”

“It is the only way.” 

“But you do not love this High Lord.”

Sorrel smiled sadly. “Helion will understand. I am doing this for love. Not for the love of another lord, but for the love of my land. The Autumn Court cannot continue to go on like this. I want a better court for myself and my people.” She squeezed Laurel’s hand. “For my niece.” 

At twenty years old, Sorrel married the High Lord and became the Lady of Autumn. The title stripped away her identity. She was no longer a Thorne, but a Vanserra. It pained her to bind herself to someone as abhorrent as Beron, but her plight was nothing compared to those that suffered under his rule. 

Beron Vanserra had to die. 

Slowly but surely, Sorrel gained power and influence in the court. Nothing occurred in the Forest House without her knowing about it. She used the knowledge and information to plot and scheme against her husband and worked with her sisters to undermine his rule and prepare for the seizing of the throne. Everything was going to plan until the day Hybern attacked. 

They were supposed to be safe at Thorne Manor. Despite her reluctance, Beron had dispersed their children throughout the different properties and estates that the Vanserras owned. Since her ancestral home was under her parent’s ownership, Beron convinced Sorrel and her sisters that the King of Hybern wouldn’t bother searching the estate. Sadly, he was wrong. 

Sorrel still remembered the day the beasts attacked. The Godswood were ablaze as Hybern’s men set fire to the sacred forest. The wind whipped through the weirwood trees as Sorrell and her sisters ran, the howl of the beasts echoing in the night. With every second that passed, the enemy sounded closer and closer. 

“Lo,” Annalised called out as she swung her sword. “They’re almost here.” 

Panic rose within Sorrel as her sisters prepared to face off with the beasts. While Annalise and Laurel were both respectively warrior and witch, all Sorrel possessed was her wit. Both of her sisters insisted that her cunning was just as important as their abilities, but as Sorrel cowered in fear, she couldn’t help but think that they were wrong. There were no rulers to influence, no lords to manipulate, no emissaries to exploit. Her mind would not save her now. 

“Listen to me,” Laurel spoke in a calm and even tone. “I need you to run.” 

“No!” Sorrel rasped as tears streaked down her cheeks. “I won’t leave you and Annie.” 

Annalise turned, a sad smile on her lovely face. “You have no choice, sœurette.” Her voice never wavered despite the tears in her eyes. “Lo is the oldest. If she tells you to run, then you have to run.” She tightened her grip on her sword as she stared at her little sister. “You have to survive.” 

“Why me?” Sorrel asked desperately. “You’re both stronger than I am. It’s you who should survive.” 

Laurel shook her head. “You’re wrong, baby sister.” She assured Sorrel with a melancholy smile. “You are stronger than both Annalise and I combined. You have sacrificed your life to serve our cause. You have survived Beron, which is something neither of us would have ever been able to do.” 

Sorrel sobbed as those familiar golden eyes bore into her. “Remember what I told you? You’re not like me. You’re better in every way.” Laurel touched Sorrel’s temples. Your mind is a weapon. Don’t forget that.” Sorrel heaved as her sister placed her hand on her chest. “But most importantly, listen to your heart. You have the one thing that Beron will never possess. The one thing that will doom him because he underestimates the power of it — love.” 

“We love you, Sorrel.” Annie said fiercely as she placed a kiss upon her sister’s head. “Live for us. Laugh for us. Love for us.” 

The sisters shared one last embrace as sobs racked their bodies. Sorrel felt like her heart was breaking in two, cleaved in half by grief and sadness and anger. Laurel squeezed her youngest sister’s arm, her golden eyes full of sorrow. 

“My daughter — “ 

“I will get her out,” Sorrel promised. “I will care for her as though she were my own. I will protect her even if it’s the last thing I do.” 

Laurel smiled. “Thank you, sister. Now go. Run.” 

Sorrel blinked, looking into those same golden eyes. It pained her how much her niece looked like Laurel, but in many ways, it also brought her joy. Her niece was the remnant of the fire of her beloved eldest sister. 

The promise that Sorell made to Laurel echoed in her mind. After the death of her sisters, Sorell did everything in her power to orchestrate her niece’s escape. She took advantage of Beron’s obsession with retaliation and paid a chamberlain to smuggle her out of the Forest House. Losing her niece had been excruciating especially after losing her sisters, but Sorrel knew it was for the best. The Lady of Autumn reminded herself that she was better off living in exile rather than being subjected to her husband’s cruelty. 

Last she heard, her niece had found a family of her own in the Night Court. Though Sorrel was glad to hear of it, she couldn’t help but feel guilty that she wasn’t able to be there for her like she wanted. Still, as she watched the shadowsinger elicit a smile out of her niece, Sorrel thought that perhaps a silver lining could be found even in exile. 

It was that smile that reminded her of the promise she once made to her sisters. Now that her niece was back, Sorrel vowed once more to end things once and for all. 

For Lo. 

For Annie. 

For herself. 

Azriel didn’t know what to make of the Autumn Court. 

And he certainly didn’t know what to make of the Autumn Court female standing beside him now, a vivid flash of scarlet against the twinkling backdrop of the cool, mild evening. Though the shadowsinger supposed he shouldn’t categorize her with the rest of this court seeing how vehemently she opposed everything it stood for. 

The shadowsinger dared a glance and found her squinting up at the stars. The assassin was quiet, pensive, and while Azriel usually found comfort in silence, the absence of her fiery wit and scathing remarks felt stifling. For all his spymaster skills, he couldn’t seem to decipher the frustrating puzzle of her mind. 

“What did Beron say to you?” 

He watched as she clenched the railing, her knuckles turning as white as the pale moon shining overhead. Despite the bruised dusky evening, the assassin glowed like a living flame in her golden dress. She hadn’t lied when she told Azriel that clothes were capable of making a statement. 

Daughter of fire. 

The witch of smoke and ash.

The talons of her winged tattoo peeked out from underneath her shawl, but she only drew it tighter around her body. To shield from the cold or something else, Azriel could not tell. 

“Nothing that I have not already heard a thousand times over,” she said absentmindedly. 

It was obvious that the assassin was withholding information, but Azriel decided to table it for a later time. The afternoon had been tense enough. All the pomp and circumstance had certainly exhausted both sides and he was determined to uphold the refuge of the balcony as long as he could. Up here, away from the crowd, the shadowsinger could finally breathe. Even if it was only for a moment. 

“Do you think we’ve convinced them?” Azriel asked as he surveyed the nobility milling about on the grounds. 

In his opinion, the charade had held for the most part. The ladies of the court were indeed relentless and the shadowsinger had regaled them with the best version of lovestruck fool that he could muster, showering the assassin with furtive glances and lingering touches. Azriel thought he had done a decent enough job, but evaluating his performance after every mission was something he usually discussed with Rhys or Cassian. It helped hone his thoughts and improve his skills. 

“Are you asking me for a performance evaluation, shadowsinger?” The assassin asked in an amused tone. Azriel sighed exasperatedly. He should have known better than to expect anything other than sarcasm. The shadowsinger was about to say so, but paused when her expression hardened. “You were very convincing. The court seems satisfied for now.”

Azriel did not miss the assassin’s side glance. She seemed to be weighing something. The rare show of indecisiveness unnerved him. “Out with it,” he said impatiently. 

The assassin squinted at him as though it would allow her to read his thoughts. “The conversation with Enid. You offered to spar with her son. She holds no sway in this court, yet you treated her with kindness. Why is that?”

The shadowsinger startled. He did not expect the question, nor did he understand it. “I do not dole out kindness on the merit of what someone can give me. It is not something to be earned, but something to be freely given.” 

She stared at him with unyielding focus. Azriel bristled and averted her gaze. “Surely I’m not so wretched in your eyes that an act of decency has rendered you speechless. A person can show kindness without ulterior motives, Thorne.”

The assassin shook her head. “Not in this court.”

Perhaps it was the influence of the sweetwine or the haunted look in her eyes, but Azriel found himself glancing up at the stars and sighing. “She reminds me of my mother,” he said softly.

Azriel didn’t know why he said it. The shadowsinger rarely spoke about his mother, even Rhys and Cassian had only heard a handful of stories about her, so he wasn’t entirely sure why he was bringing it up now. 

“Thank you,” she said hoarsely. “For being kind to her.”

The air was rife with uncertainty. Neither one of them seemed equipped to deal with an actual moment of sincerity. “You know, I’ve heard you say thank you more today than in the past three centuries. I wasn’t even sure you were capable of showing such gratitude.” 

The assassin rolled her eyes. “Tell any of our friends and I’ll hang you by your wings.”

The shadowsinger would have chuckled in response, but just then one of his shadows informed him that they were not alone. Azriel turned just as the Lady of the Autumn Court breezed through the double doors. He felt, rather than saw, the assassin stiffen beside him. The playfulness had all but gone and in its place was an immovable mask as she curtsied. Azriel followed suit and bowed. 

“I am sorry to interrupt,” the Lady of the Autumn Court said. “I won’t keep you long. I came to bid you two good night and to congratulate you again on your betrothal.” 

“Thank you,” the assassin said softly. “Azriel and I are honored to be welcomed as warmly as we were today.”

The Lady smiled. Mischief was alight in her eyes, and suddenly the resemblance between aunt and niece became as clear as day. “Some welcomes were warmer than others, were they not, shadowsinger?” 

Azriel flushed. “The ladies of this court have been most gracious, but none more than you, my lady.” 

There was a hint of amusement in her elegant features until she turned her attention back to the assassin. Azriel thought he saw a mixture of grief and apprehension, but the expression did not linger long enough for him to analyze it. 

To the assassin’s surprise, the Lady of the Autumn Court grasped her gloved hands, turning it over to examine the sapphire ring glittering in the moonlight. “A lovely ring for a lovely lady,” she whispered softly, her eyes glossy. “Your mother would have been proud.”

The raw, pained expression on the assassin’s face made the shadowsinger feel like an unwelcome intruder. Aunt and niece stared at each other for a brief moment before breaking away. Azriel fought the urge to look away, his unease settling over his nerves like molasses. 

The shadowsinger was glad he didn’t, because in the split second before the Lady of the Autumn Court collected herself, Azriel saw her slip something into the assassin’s gloved hand. If he hadn’t been watching so closely, he might have missed the entire exchange. But Azriel was the spymaster and it was his job to notice these things. 

Just like it was the assassin’s job to keep secrets.

₊˚⊹♡ thank you for reading. as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated. feel free to drop an ask too — i’d love to yap & chat with you all.

taglist: @fuckingsimp4azriel@onebadassunicorn-blog@acourtofbatboydreams@marina468@ly–canthrope

[batbux]

(D.A.R.E. stands for Drug Abuse Resistant Education and is a school program aimed at teaching kids that drugs are evil and you'll die if you snort a weed.)

[batsimsposts]

Ok yall, i've seen a lot of misinformation on who was the first *insert superhero here* so here are some common superheroes who passed on their mantle and in what order each character was this hero. This post is meant to be informative.

This post has Batgirl, Robin, Flamebird, and Flash.

BATGIRL

- Bette Kane was Batgirl for seven years (1961-1967) and she was THE original batgirl. (Yup! Barbara was not the first!)

- Barbara Gordon was the most iconic Batgirl and most depictions of Batgirl in animation/live action are her. She was Batgirl from 1967-1988. (There are most recent depictions of her as batgirl but she was officially retired by DC editorial in 1988)

- Helena Bertinelli was Batgirl during the No Man's Land arc which ran through most of 1999. It happened for less than one year so if you don't want to count her that's fine. This list is more for educational purposes.

- Cassandra Cain was Batgirl right after Helena Bertinelli near the end of No Man's Land in 1999. She stopped being Batgirl in 2009 and came back in late 2010 with her new alias Black Bat.

- Stephanie Brown was Batgirl from 2009 to 2011 when DC launched the New52 timeline where she was reverted back to Spoiler.

- Tiffany Fox was Batgirl in 2014 during the league of Batgirls arc.

ROBIN

- Dick Grayson was the original Robin, his first appearance was in 1940 and his last appearance as Robin was in 1984, he was Robin for 44 years.

- Lance Bruner was Robin during a 1969 run of The Brave And The Bold. He died as Robin.

- Jason Todd his first appearance as Robin was in 1983 and he officially took over the Robin mantle in 1984. He died in 1988, being Robin for only four years.

- Carrie Kelley was Robin in 1986 during a Batman comic run. She later adopted the Catgirl mantle. (Alternate universe)

- Tim Drake became Robin after Jason died, his first appearance was in 1989. He became Red Robin in 2009 but got put back into the Robin mantle in 2019, he currently fills in as Robin when Damian is out of town.

- Stephanie Brown was Robin for three months (71 days) in 2004. She was only in a few issues and got nerfed like right after.

- Damian Wayne has been Robin since 2009, and is currently holding the Robin Mantle.

FLAMEBIRD

- Jimmy Olsen was Flamebird Pre-crisis

- Bette Kane was Flamebird post-crisis

- Ak-Var was Flamebird for a little bit

- a Kryptonian hero was also called Flamebird

- Kara Zor-El was Flamebird for a tiny bit

- Lois Lane used the Flamebird alias once

(aka Bette Kane was the one to use the Flamebird alias the most but the alias itself is such a small role that i cant even tell you dates or anything...)

THE FLASH

- Jay Garrick is the original Flash, his first appearance was in 1940. (Timelines are always messed up when referring to Flash so I'm only gonna out their first appearance.)

- Barry Allen was Flash after Jay Garrick, his first appearance was in 1956

- Wally West was originally Kid Flash, but became The Flash after some timeline shenanigans with Barry. His first appearance was in 1960

- Ivana Christina Molotova was experimented on and gained speed powers. She was Lady Flash for a while (1987) but changed her alias shortly before her death.

- John Fox is a Flash from the future (27th century) that went back in time to ask Jay Garrick for help. His appearance was in 1990

- Jesse Quick was The Flash after Wally West was integrated with the speed force. She had the powers of Liberty Belle as well as a connection to the speed force. Her first appearance was in 1992

- Bart Allen was first Impulse and then Kid Flash, he became The Flash after Wally West's disappearance. His first appearance was 1994 (as Impulse)

- Avery Ho became The Flash during DC's Rebirth era. She joined the Justice League Of China and was one of the best Flashes with Bart Allen and Wally West. Her first appearance was in 2016.

__________

This is all for now, let me know if theres a superhero alias you want me to do <3

[red-fox-education]

A comprehensive language course which includes you all the tools you need to become more proficient in your use of English allowing you to communicate effectively in conversations for a variety of different situations.

[mariacallous]

People often say to me that I wouldn’t personally be affected by a second Donald Trump presidency. After all, I live in a blue city in a blue state, and I’m a married, heterosexual woman who isn’t looking to have any more children. I won’t need medication like mifepristone for a miscarriage (though I do have girls in my family who I assume will someday want to have children), and I don’t personally rely on the federal government for education, because my kids don’t go to public school.

So, again, how would any of this affect me? The most likely answer is that, as a public-facing person, I will continue to be subjected to threats, as many in the mainstream media already are. But attacks on the media could escalate if Trump returns to power, given that he doesn’t hesitate to demonize journalists and call them out before his millions of followers. And given what Trump says on television, he may target American citizens for unfavorable speech.

“I think the bigger problem is the enemy from within,” he told Maria Bartiromo on Fox News on Sunday. “Sick people, radical-left lunatics. And it should be very easily handled by, if necessary, by the National Guard, or, if really necessary, by the military.” The “lunatics” in question could be anyone from protesters to opinion columnists—or even mainstream reporters—he doesn’t agree with. Trump has referred to CBS as a “A FAKE NEWS SCAM” whose operations are “totally illegal,” and has similarly suggested that ABC should lose its broadcast license. 

What would it mean to have a president who, in this fashion, targets what little is left of the free press? It’s hard to fathom, but there’s a world where Trump imitates his strongman friends like Vladimir Putin or Viktor Orbán or Kim Jong Un—all of whom participate in jailing or killing journalists in countries with state-regulated media. He’s already taking a page from Joe McCarthy this election cycle in targeting the “enemies within,” something my family is all too familiar with.

Few aspects of Trump’s second-terms plans are more openly authoritarian than his immigration platform. On Friday, Trump traveled to Aurora, a suburb of Denver, Colorado, where he is shopping “Operation Aurora,” a policy he said would target “every illegal migrant criminal network operating on American soil” by use of the Alien Enemies Act of 1798. According to the Brennan Center, the law is “a wartime authority that allows the president to detain or deport the natives and citizens of an enemy nation. The law permits the president to target these immigrants without a hearing and based only on their country of birth or citizenship.” The last time the United States used the Alien Enemies Act, it was to put Japanese and Japanese Americans into internment camps during WWII.

What would internment camps actually entail in the modern day? Well, Trump has talked about deporting up to 20 million undocumented immigrants—an operation of staggering scale that he freely admits will be “bloody.” (The Department of Homeland Security, in 2018, estimated there were 11.4 million undocumented immigrants; Pew put the number at roughly 11 million in 2022.) It’s impossible to imagine what deporting that many people would really look like; maybe blue-state governors would be strong enough to prevent deportation camps from being built in states like California and New York. Maybe the camps would only be in red states, or maybe they’d be erected on federal land, like national parks. Then there’s the question of who would run these camps. Trump, for his part, has mused about using the National Guard. Who would stop any of this, you might ask? Would a Republican Congress stop it? Who would be the grown-ups in the room.

At least during the first Trump administration, the courts prevented Trump from doing some of the things he wanted to do, like ending DACA. But this time, Trump would be starting out with a 6-3 conservative-majority Supreme Court, featuring three justices he appointed. Last year, we saw the Trump-friendly high court issue two rulings that will pretty much serve as a blank check to an emboldened Trump: The first ended the Chevron deference, which will curb the power of federal agencies and expedite the death of regulatory expertise. The other decision, which is perhaps more worrying, Trump would have a blank check to do whatever he wants if he says it’s in the service of the presidency, essentially granting him blanket immunity against any crimes he commits in office. As Ninth Circuit judge and Ronald Reagan appointee Stephen S. Trott wrote, it means that Richard Nixon could have “legally ordered his plumbers to burgle the office of Daniel Ellsberg’s psychiatrist.”

Trump is telling us all about his potential plans: internment camps, going after his enemies foreign and domestic, including, presumably, journalists. Will I be one of them? Will he clamp down on the free press? Will he take away the licenses from networks he deems insufficiently supportive of his presidency?

On the campaign trail, Trump has recently posed a question of his own when it comes to voting for him, asking the crowd, “What the hell do you have to lose?” Actually, a lot. While we don’t know precisely what a second Trump term will look like, it’ll surely be chaotic and bleak, and could mark the end of something we certainly don’t want to lose: democracy as we know it.

[tired-reader-writer]

Finally— FINALLY THIS PIECE IS DONE. AFTER A MONTH AND A HALF (technically almost two months if we count the previous version whose file corrupted but we'll get to that in a bit). I'm SO proud to finally finish this, the ordeal of my surface pro repeatedly crashing when I was first working on the previous version of this piece, so being finally able to finish it now feels like overcoming a particularly annoying demon that's been haunting me for a while. Hurrah!

(look, I know I said I'd try writing today, uhhhhhh plans spontaneously changed, bear with me)

This is my Naruto OC, and the protagonist of Foxes, Pillars, and Sea-salt Rust: Uzumaki Hoshiori! She's a granddaughter of Mito and Hashirama, only four months younger than Tsunade. Her father, Kazuma, Hashirama and Mito's son, married Uzumaki Tsurue, a priestess of the sea, and Hoshiori is their only child.

So in this AU, shinobi are part of the burakumin caste, aka an underclass regarded as “impure” and “untouchable” due to their dealings with death, and they are kept under control via things such as poaching laws, being banned from owning land, being barred from pursuing higher education, etc, and are utterly reliant on mission money and wars to survive. There were some exceptions, which I won't get into here, but the Uzumaki were part of said exceptions— enjoying a fair bit of autonomy due to their island being difficult to get to. They were partially pirates who menaced anyone who wished to traverse the Fuchi sea, aka the sea between the Continent and the Kiri archipelago.

This is what the prologue of the fic (sadly the only chapter that's up right now) had to say about the Uzumaki and their island, narrated by Tobirama:

Off the coast of Toyonabe city, Niezaki region, in the midst of treacherous waters of the Sanzu strait, there lies the island of Uzunoshima. Mighty as it is small, buildings of local stone that appear as though they'd been carved directly from the island or burst out of the ground fully formed, kawara tiles the same red of their coral reefs, the same red of the people's hair. A clan of roguing pirates— fuuinjutsu masters peerless in their craft.

×

Home to the world's strongest and most violent tidal waves that form deadly whirlpools, the aptly named Sanzu strait makes the eastern shore of the Continent impossible to traverse. Impossible, that is, to all but the Uzumaki.

The island, Uzunoshima, went without a Daimyo to oversee it, instead being led solely by the matriarch of the Uzumaki clan. They are matriarchal in this AU.

When the Founders sought to change things, improve the world for shinobi, they turned their gaze to Uzunoshima, in hopes that it would become a strong support for Konohagakure when the latter would negotiate for better and better terms, such as raising the graduation age for shinobi, pushing for shinobi to be able to pursue other careers, for them to be able to own land, and so on— The Uzumaki and the Senju in this AU shared a close bond, and they had hoped it would be a foundation for a long-standing alliance between Uzunoshima and Konohagakure. Tobirama in particular, was also concerned about the future safety of the Uzumaki:

To say many fear the Uzumaki would be no exaggeration. Unconquerable, untouchable, a thorn in the world's side, shinobi and civilian alike.

Nobility does not tolerate insurgents.

The extermination of the Sabi clan, and others before and after— it only serves to prove this fact.

Exterminations pay well, and while they might have been able to withstand individual lords, with the establishment of Hidden Villages, many clans under one banner and country…

If he cannot broker a solution, if he does not help quell the discontent—

He fears for Uzunoshima. He fears for the Uzumaki, their sister-clan, the clan from which Senju came.

There was, however, a catch. Uzunoshima would adopt the Continent's way: install a Daimyo, create a Hidden Village, and follow the system that the Founders had designed. A granddaughter of the current clan head (Uzumaki Haine, Mito's niece) was chosen to become the Daimyo, and she would wed a son from the court of Hi no Kuni to signify an alliance. And so Uzunoshima became Uzushiogakure.

However, things went south pretty fast.

Hashirama and Tobirama both died in quick succession during the First Shinobi World War, leaving behind a successor who did not pick up where the Founders had intended— you see, Tobirama picked a successor in the middle of a battle, and because the choice was made without the oversight and approval of the Hi no Kuni court, the nobles are rather unhappy, and so to preserve the Hidden Village, Sarutobi Hiruzen bent over backwards to appease them, leading to the deterioration of the system that got to the point where young genin were sent to war, and where mere six-year-olds could become genin.

Kokuen, Haine's husband, the “import groom” as he was referred to by the Uzumaki, also held the Uzumaki in contempt, and repeatedly tried to impose more and more arbitrary divisions between “civilian” and “shinobi” in the veins of mainland customs onto the island and brandished the power of the Hi no Kuni court, much to the disdain of the islanders. Haine, the Daimyo, was in love with Hoshiori's mother Tsurue, and Kokuen felt threatened by it because:

And though two women may formally join their households for love, and raise their children together as though they washed ashore from the same waters, that is, born from the same womb, the same cannot be said for men— even though there lies a bond-oath not too dissimilar to the one women may swear, unite two households into one it does not.

*“to wash ashore” here is an Uzumaki metaphor that means “to be born”

Which means, once two women wed each other, their two households combine into one, and any children they may have had independently are now counted as part of the same household. If Haine were to successfully bring Tsurue to her side, Hoshiori would be counted for a legitimate heir to the Daimyo seat just as much as Kokuen's own daughter with Haine is. Considering the close bond the Uzumaki shared with the Senju, and Hoshiori's blood ties to the Founders, and the fact that the Uzumaki are very unhappy with Kokuen and the current system, there would be a chance of Hoshiori being used as a rallying point for the Uzumaki to take the reins and try to pick up where the Founders left off.

This would spell bad news for Uzunoshima, because the Hi no Kuni court would try to squash that rebellion, which in turn would endanger the Uzumaki, so Tsurue always declined Haine's advances. This didn't stop Kokuen from trying to put down harsher divides between the two “classes” though.

Despite the fact that she technically should've counted as a “civilian” due to the fact that lineages are traced by the mother's line and Tsurue being a priestess, Hoshiori was nonetheless pushed into being a shinobi because Kokuen had wanted to weaponize what is basically the clout given by Hoshiori being Hashirama's descendant. This was not helped by the fact that Tsunade became a genin at age 6 and became known for being a prodigy.

(Hoshiori is also not counted to be part of the line of succession to the Uzumaki clan head position, because Tsurue is not part of that line. Basically she got locked out of both sides. Yeesh.)

WHICH IS ALL TO CONTEXTUALIZE HER POSITION IN HER HOMELAND. UGH.

So Hoshiori was a soft, gentle child unsuited to combat and the shinobi lifestyle. She did great at theoretical stuff, had great chakra control, but when it comes to sparring? Hoo boy.

She hesitated a lot. She chickened out of blows and stuff because she was afraid of hurting people. She would always lose at spars. She hated, hated being made to be shinobi. She wanted to be an apprentice priestess instead. Or, well.... there's another thing.

Hoshiori and Haine have a... strange dynamic. Basically they pretend and play house. They both want to be each other's family, so they pretend. After Hoshi became genin, Haine would stick her on “baby-sitting missions” where Hoshi (and her team, but mainly Hoshi) would be made to accompany and “guard” Haine's daughter, Gyokuen-hime, and being kinda “allowed” to be with Gyokuen when the latter was receiving lessons and stuff, enabled Hoshi to take an interest in things such as poetry, literature, even a dash of politics.

(The irony was that Gyokuen would've done numbers as a marauding pirate on the sea, while Hoshiori was made for softer stuff, but, y'know, things turned out Like That™. And that introduced... complications into the dynamic between Hoshiori, Gyokuen, and Haine.)

After Kokuen finally railroading things to send Hoshiori's genin team into a mission on the Continent, into the throes of war, though...

Things went very sideways.

Hoshiori tried to save a pair of civilians and it cost her her teammates. In the end, even the civilians were killed.

The experience caused Hoshiori to... dissociate from the world. Detach. Not process anything she ever does on the field emotionally, just doing whatever fits the mission criteria so that she can go home and be “real” again. She stops perceiving anything outside of her life in the shrine as real life, just obstacles she must overcome in order to resume her life in the shrine with her family.

Things change again, years later, when Kushina gets picked to be the next jinchuuriki. A young child among many who are tutored in fuuinjutsu by Hoshiori.

She chooses to try and take Kushina's place, despite the fact that it would've been easier for her to think to herself, “that's none of my business”, and continue to live her detached life.

I won't spoil you with the details, but when Hoshiori eventually gets to Konoha, accompanying Kushina with the plan to convince Konoha to send Kushina back... Mito passes the crown she used to wear onto Hoshiori.

Hoshiori at first doesn't realize why Mito would do this, but... Well. I shan't spoil it. It's tied to a lot, a lot of things— Uzushio politics, the larger world politics, Mito's own personal reasons, etc etc etc. I'm saving all that for the fic.

Hoshiori doesn't wear the crown during her stay in Konoha. She doesn't dress like an Uzumaki there at all, instead seeking to blend into the Konoha populace.

She'd only reclaim these things once she breaks free of Konoha's hold and basically becomes a leader of... something. Which will happen, but I won't say how or why yet, not in this post anyways. I might in future posts.

So that was one lengthy character intro post! What do y'all think about it?

Some close-ups for bonus:

I really wanted her hair to look like copper rather than a more vivid red. I tried to shoot for a metallic look with the rendering!

The silk was so fun to render. One day I wanna draw a full-body portrait of Hoshiori in Uzumaki clothing like she's wearing here. It's heavily based on ryusou— the traditional dress of the Ryukyu Kingdom (Okinawa)! Not so much the patterns bc, uh, I don't think I'm equipped to draw those yet, but the general silhouette and styling!

The pearls were SUCH a pain to draw. Also the scribbles were traced from this one... I think document? from the Ryukyu Kingdom.

Me: drawing pearls was such a pain! I'm never drawing pearls again!

Also me: how about we try drawing iridescent mother-of-pearl?

Flat colours!

Aaaaaand the only remnant of the previous version where I lost my file to corruption, which was FUCKING ANNOYING as I was already trying to render the fucking crown. Ugh T_T

As ANOTHER bonus, here's a quiz result of something I nabbed from @/woodblxssomcrowned's blog:

What kind of herb are you?

Cardamom

You're lonely but it's okay. It's okay. It's okay. You've always been okay except you're not and somehow you've made yourself and everyone else around you believe that too. Connection to anyone is harder than you could have ever dreamed when you were young and unloved and invisible to everyone who was supposed to care about you and save you from the voiding hollowness in your chest, in your throat. You smile and say you're okay and you are, or at least you tell yourself you are, but is anyone even worried? You tell yourself that they are or maybe that it's good they aren't. You'll be okay, one day. One day.

(the mention crossed out so that I don't bother the blog! we're not mutuals and we don't know each other so I'd rather not be overbearing. I am however shameless with friends.)

OH and the AU has a playlist!

[winterviolet1]

Ateez Reaction:

Them being hybrids with a human S/O

---------------------------------------------

Hybrid Ateez and their human S\O

-----------

HongJoong:

HongJoong being a wolf hybrid. wolves being know for loyal, educated, Intelligence and strong tie to families. Being the leader in his pack of mix hybrids, he always cares and defends his friends and family. He was mostly a lone wolf without a mate until he met you.

You and HongJoong met at a hybrid café tho you were a human. You two met a few time before Hongjoong asked you out on a coffee date. From there you as his s/o have been with Hongjoong for near 4 years. There has been a few time that Hongjoong thought he may be not good enough for you cause he was a hybrid but you proven him wrong. He's happy to have someone like you in his life either as A human or a hybrid.

You are his Mate

SeongHwa:

Seonghwa the charming yet sweet red panda hybrid. being the oldest in the group of mix hybrids. Seonghwa is loving and protective but in his way that only those close to him knows about. Being a red panda has it perks at times but it also has it con except when he was out on his walk and met you.

You was on the bench doing some sketching on your drawing book. When you as Seonghwa as he was looking at you, you were shy by his beautiful charms and red panda energy. You two chat over for a bit and for a while, you got to know Seonghwa as he did the same for you. Soon you two started dating cause Seonghwa and You grew feeling for each other over time. You were getting used to Seonghwa hybrid side which you alway from cute and would get to pet his ear.

Seonghwa was more then happen to have you as his human S/O

Yunho:

Yunho as fox hybrid is beautiful, sly and playful. Being one of the tallest hybrids in his friends group. Yunho loves to pick on and teases those who are shorter then him while he best friend his Mingi.

During the day it was snowing. Yunho met you at a store as you were trying to reach something on a top shelf. Having a big heart and playful expression. You and Yunho met up quite a lot on days he wasn't busy. Soon you and Yunho started dating, You get to play and touch Yunho ears and tail since he finds it comfortable.

Yunho is more then happy to have you as his human S/O cause he get to share his passion with you

Yeosang:

Yeosang as Racoon hybrid usual has a few flaws. Raccoon are usual known to be a pest and thieves but not Yeosang. Yeosang is sweet, insecure and kind to those in his family and friends. Yeosang is normally insecure for his markings cause he finds them ugly and thinks he looks unattractive with them.

You as he S/O of 3 years love everything about him. His markings, his expression and everything about him attracts you to him. You met him at a skate park as he was skateboarding around before he accident ended up crashing into you. After many apologies and offer to repay for crashing into you, You get to know him well and his hybrid side as he is very shy being himself around you.

He's grateful you don't find him disgusting

San:

San as a sugar glider hybrid tend to sleep a lot during the day. His cheery and mischief are active during the night. So when he was out to do some late night activities, He met you at a festive as you saw him covering his ear cause of how sensitive they were. You were sweet to have earmuffs and cover his ears so the loud sounds were muff as San blushed while smile at you kindness.

After that day You two had met up a lot til he asked you out on a date. Now your his S/O of a year and 4 months, He was warm and cuddly during times when you two take a nap. Being a human san had sure to not harm you with his sharp nails when you two hold hands or have intimate sessions.

San's happy to have you in his life.

Mingi:

Mingi another tall get in the group would be a Panda Hybrid. Cuddly, shy and clingy he may be but don't let his cute side fool you. He can be quite the handful guy til he opens up to those around him.

You as his human S/O love this big man. Going on dates with him when he isn't busy with tour or work was lovely. He met you during one of the events with him and his team as you were just minding your own business. You were surprised at first to see someone like him but happy to get to know him and is now dating this Panda Hybrid.

Mingi was more then happy to show you off to the world if he could get the chance to lol

Wooyoung:

Wooyoung a tiger hybrid is smug, clingy, cheeky and sometime passive aggressive. Wooyoung loves attention and is easily jealous when he attention is taken from him. Especially if his S/O attention was taken from him.

You as his human S/O knows the wrath if Wooyoung is jealous. Luckily always manage to get around it by giving him kisses, making his favorite food or spending long session with cuddles. Wooyoung takes pride as he know brags about how he luck to have someone like you in his arms and no one else.

"Babe of course I would show you off if it means to show everyone your mine"

Jongho:

Jongho the fearsome Lion hybrid. He take pride in what he does for his group of friends and family. If you make him angry, well might not see another day. He's very protective and supportive to the one's he love, even his Human S/O.

You as his Human S/O is his precious treasure. You and Jongho met during his tour as he found you the most charm/beautiful human he ever saw. Getting to know each after exchanging numbers, You manage to capture his heart as he did the same to you as now you two been dating for over a year. Jongho can easily jealous if another human tires to hit on you when he is or isn't around.

In his eyes, your his lioness and the love of his life...

[foxboybugs]

Call me bugs :3

19, red fox, Pagan, plural, physically disabled, transmasc and queer

Side blog for @bugssolarsystem if you know me from there no you don’t 

(More info below the cut)

- Silly side blog for fox brain posting. Just a little creature. May discuss being a seraph/avian (angelkin) as well, although that's a lesser identity for us, and only a couple alters identify with it.

- I'm still figuring out which alterhuman terms fit me best, so we'll likely switch between some. Please let me know if I misuse a term, I am relatively new to the nonhuman community and still learning the best words for my experiences!

- I try to educate myself before I say stuff but sometimes I am less educated than I think

- We switch between singular and plural pronouns. We’re a system, it’s normal for us

- Additionally, sometimes I wont remember stuff I say, I'll change perspectives and may contradict myself, and I frequently forget to respond to messages and notifications.

- No DNI I block freely. Please don't bring discourse on my page thanks

Tag guide:

#bugs barks - original posts where i yap #bugs asks - responding to asks