#ashe writers

[zyn0nn]

Hunter Redesign for my Rewrite

I punked him up because there’s an episode where he’s out of the loop about most things that happen in the school and I thought it’d be cool if it was because he doesn’t have a phone at all. Another reason is because his hair would be so much more cooler if it was punkier.

[shnoob]

Sal Fisher HC’s!:  

I normally wouldn't write something like this, BUT I love Sally Face and it NEEDSSSS more recognition 🙏🙏🙏  

(I'm totally not in love with him or something. WHAT WHO SAID THAT??)

 I feel like he would be one of those types of people who carry lotion, hand sanitizer, tissues etc due to him taking good care of his skin/body. Due to what has happened to him, any little germ can get under his skin which is not a good thing :P 

That being said, he would get bad allergic reactions to scented lotions so he’d stick with the typical scents. (However, if it's a scent he really likes..he won't mind getting a rash for once, he already has a prosthetic..) 

SOOOOO good at comforting people. Even if you just met him, he may be a bit awkward but he won't just let you sit there and cry. Possibly just reach in his bag and hand over a tissue while staring at you. 

Again, just carries EVERYTHING. That doesn't mean his bag is full! Due to Ashley, Larry, and even Todd he has random ass items in his bag until they ask if he knows where it is. (Even offering his space to carry your stuff too!) 

“Hey Sal, have you seen *blank*?” “Oh uh..*rummages through his pockets* this?” “Thanks man!” 

The type of guy to try and cuff his jeans but they always end up uneven so they either are uneven or not cuffed. (The stains man..)

Lets Ashley paint his nails. Can't tell me otherwise. Usually Black, Red or a blue similar to his hair. Probably matched with the gang at one point due to Ashley begging them. 

Has calluses on his hands due to guitar playing. 

First off, such a good listener to everybody. He could sit there for hours listening to you and comfort you if you felt like you were talking too much. That being said, if you mention you like ANYTHING (such as a candy) you know he will start carrying it just in case you wanted it or had a rough day. 

If he sees a bug or rock he likes, you know its going into a collection. Started collecting rocks in about 7th grade and hasnt stopped since. It probably started just in a box and now has a small display on a nightstand. Bugs he obviously cannot keep in a condition like that so he may just carry it around for a bit on a finger until they are in a place where they are safe. (Maybe even to scare Larry with). 

Is probably used to most jokes that could be considered “too far” or “rude” now due to the insults he's experienced of his prosthetic, but if it ever crosses a line by touching it or even towards a friend…watch out.  

With that, he probably makes dark humor jokes.  

When he's nervous, he probably scratches the sides of his hands or picks at his nails. (They never stood a chance) 

MAN NEEDS NEW SHOES THEY ARE RIPPING APART. SOMEBODY PLEASE 

He jokes around so much with his friends of “bromance” (like fake kissing, lovey terms etc) to the point he has had a rumor or two with his friends.

Cannot do gymnastics tricks well. He probably tried a handstand once to prove to Larry and fell right over. Ash most likely teaches him over time so he gets..better? 

I bet he reads a little! When he isn't ghost hunting or needs a break playing the guitar, he will pick up a book for fun. (Maybe even reads to Gizmo once in awhile) 

[illyrianbitch]

Beneath the Ashes of Our Broken Oaths

Pairing: Morrigan's Sister!Reader x Azriel

Summary: After abandoning the refuge of Velaris, you, Morrigan’s twin sister, returned to the forsaken Hewn City fueled by a vision for a better future. Now, your estranged family seeks your help when rumors of rebellion spread at a time of utmost inconvenience. Torn between your anger and a desire to protect the good, you begrudgingly agree and are forced to face memories of a past life and the unsettling presence of Azriel– the first man you ever loved.

Warnings: ANGST, Helion being compassionate and its sexy, Inner Circle slander (sorry feyre baby), Y/N is kind of a bitch (but its warranted and a slay), family trauma.

Word Count: 2.9k

Part Two

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

It was Helion, the High Lord of Day, who had seen the flicker of hope in your eyes. A man of discerning wisdom, he recognized your yearnings of a better world. He knew you, he knew your heart, and he trusted your vision— with the promise of your support shall he need it. You knew that your support, in the grand scheme of things, meant nothing to Helion. He had always held a heart of gold, of understanding, and he would have helped you without anything in return. But you had insisted, declared that you needed to give him something to thank him. Your support, he had agreed on. It was all you had left, anyway. 

Now, you stood before him, pleading. Your chest was tight and a calm panic filled your veins. You needed to act. You needed to keep things in place.

"Helion, please," your voice, normally composed, now carried a tremor, a plea that hung in the air, reeking of desperation. Low light poured through stained glass windows as the sun slowly set, painting a kaleidoscope of muted colors on the marble floors.

His eyes, usually filled with warmth, held a regretful sympathy. 

"Y/N, I wish I could," He replied, his voice caressing the air,  "But with the current state of affairs and your father’s growing paranoia, it's too risky. I can't jeopardize my people. My help is needed elsewhere."

Approaching you, he extended a large hand, gently cupping your chin, his touch reassuring and pained. "Give me some time, sweetheart."

Desperation deepened in your eyes, and the intensity of your plea swelled. Aching with fear and worry, your gaze remained locked on his. "I don’t have time. Hewn City corrupts swiftly. You know this.”

Helion sighed, a sound filled with a blend of both compassion and helplessness. "Perhaps you should reach out to Rhysand. His influence might help, now more than ever."

Yor felt a bitterness surface, like bile rising through your throat. A soft scoff left your mouth as you roughly pulled Helion’s hand away from your chin, withdrawing from his touch in offense. "Rhys had a chance to help. He didn’t. He couldn’t care less. I won’t go crawling to him."

Helion's gaze softened, a tender response to your rough tone. He let out a sigh and pulled you close to him once more. His touch sent a wave of comfort through you, something that happened often when you visited him to discuss these things. Helion was a man who loved physical connection— you didn’t mind it. It made you feel seen, understood. Now, you craved that feeling more than ever.

 "I don’t understand this contempt you hold. Surely they will want to help you. They miss you."

You rolled your eyes at this. Of course Helion would think so. As much as you trusted him and his admiration for you, he always did love your family. Your sister and your cousin would always be in your life, tied to you in one way or another. Frustration tinged your voice. 

"It's too late. Going to Rhysand now would draw unwanted attention or, worse, he’d halt my efforts because of some perceived danger."

There was a moment of silence, and your eyes bounced around the room, searching for somewhere to land that wasn’t Helion's burning gaze. Once more, he moved a hand to gently cradle your face.

"You cannot foresee every outcome. You're not a mind reader, Y/N."

A bitter laugh escaped you, and you looked up at him through your lashes. "I might as well be when it comes to family."

 "You've accomplished so much. Allow yourself a reprieve. You can't bear the weight of the innocents lives in Hewn City alone."

You blinked away the tears that welled in your eyes as you admitted, "I can't afford to stop. If I do, they'll think I've given up." 

"No," Helion asserted, his voice unwavering. "Your dedication is commendable, but you need to care for yourself. Let me help you."

You bit the inside of your cheek as you stared at him, his brows furrowed slightly and a sad smile on his face. He moved his hand once more, gently tucking stray strands of hair behind your ear. Then, he ran a finger along it, a soft caress carried by a weight of understanding. You shuddered at the lightness of his touch. 

 "Stay, Y/N,” He suggested, his voice smooth and low, “Let me be a distraction. You take care of others; let someone take care of you."

You leaned slightly into his caress, feeling the warmth radiating from his hand. A fleeting sense of comfort teased at the edges of your weary soul. Yet, reality swiftly reasserted its grasp, and you gently withdrew, a soft sigh escaping your lips.

"I appreciate the offer," you murmured, your voice tinged with regret. Your hand delicately intercepted his, guiding it away from your cheek. "But I can't afford the luxury of distraction right now."

He acknowledged your decision with a small nod. 

“I wish I could do more for you."

A tender smile found its way to your lips and you held his gaze for a fleeting moment of gratitude.

“I know.” You replied before you winnowed away, leaving the luminous embrace of the Day Court behind.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

You were on edge. You had been for the last few weeks. Now, after failing to convince Helion, you could feel it catching up to you, a dark hole forming in the pit of your stomach. It felt like you were being swallowed alive, eaten by your own anxieties and fear. But you didn’t have time for this. You couldn’t risk falling apart, becoming vulnerable. No, not at a time like this.

You had mastered the art of drowning your thoughts, of discarding the weight that threatened to pull you under. Tonight would be no different. The impending storm would be weathered, as it always had been. You would begin to drink your worries away, give them time to manifest, and then shove them away into the crawlspace of your mind, free to collect dust and rot away.

You moved toward a small table where a simple platter of dark amber liquid awaited. Your fingers tightened around a small crystal glass as you poured. As the first sip touched your lips, you felt the familiar burn, a welcomed distraction. The amber liquid offered solace, if only for a fleeting moment.

And then, you stilled. The creak of the floorboards behind you announced their presence, and you felt it—a pricking at the base of your neck, the subtle disturbance of the air as someone entered, no, appeared. Your body tensed instinctively, shoulders rigid, as you ceased your movements. You took a moment to compose yourself, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply-- a futile attempt to ground yourself.

You downed the drink, the warmth spreading through your veins, and set your glass down, a definitive thud echoing in the silence as it met the table. You turned around slowly, the ever-present undercurrent of anxiety beneath your skin momentarily masked by a face of composure. The simple décor of your home surrounded you—the tattered tapestries, broken furniture—all a testament to a life you had built in the aftermath of your return. One that lacked the color that you once held.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Your voice, laced with both mockery and a hint of something darker, hung in the air.

In front of you, Rhysand stood tall and proud, a figure of authority. His eyes, once familiar and comforting, now held a look determination. His gaze held yours strongly, and for a swift moment, you saw them soften. But the tenderness quickly dissipated, his eyes narrowing with a slight tilt of his head. You ran your eyes along his face, then down his form, taking in the detailed and intricate patterns of his clothing— an embodiment of Night Court royalty. Then, you looked at him again, your jaw clenching. It had been a while since you looked into his eyes, a violet color deeply embedded into your mind. For a moment, his presence consumed your thoughts, distracting you from the other man that you felt in your home.

From the corner of your eyes, you could see the dark figure stepping out from the corners of your room. A darkness licked at your skin.

"Hello, Azriel," you acknowledged him, your eyes remaining fixed on Rhysand.

Azriel's presence was a dark whisper. The edges of your room seemed to blur with shadows as he stood there, a silent observer.

"I’ve come to request your help," Rhysand's voice cut through the stillness, his words carrying the weight of urgency.

Your response was swift, dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, that's rich."

The corners of the room seemed to darken further as Rhysand's frustration manifested in the clenching of his jaw. The subtle play of shadows accentuated the lines on his face, revealing the strain of a desperate plea.

"Please hear me out."

You shook your head. They shouldn’t be here. This was risky, dangerous. You needed them to leave. They needed to disappear, to let you go and never find you again. That was the only way you would be able to survive.

But every fiber in your being was screaming to do the opposite, to embrace your cousin and explain to him, tell him everything. You wanted to get on your knees and beg for the kindness he always showed you, to ask him about your sister. For him to tell you about his life, his love, his child. But you couldn’t. And from inside you, your heart tugged you to Azriel, his stoic form. You couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bear to catch his gaze. It was all so wrong. This disconnect, this anger you felt for them, for your situation, for yourself… it was eating you up. But this wasn't the time. So you pulled your thoughts together and focused on the one thing that had never let you down: your fire.

You reminded yourself of the resentment you held, deep down. Reminded yourself of how they had failed you, separated themselves from you, your vision, and the suffering of the good people here, in Hewn City— your city. Rhysand's city.

Ignoring his original words, you looked at Rhysand with the hint of a wicked grin on your face.

"Where’s your child bride? I heard she’s reading at the same level as your babe. You must be overjoyed."

Rhysand's expression tightened, anger simmering beneath the surface. The mention of his mate touched a clear nerve, and for a brief moment, you reveled in the discomfort you had caused. It was a twisted satisfaction, a way to regain some sliver of control in this unexpected encounter.

His temper flared, a fleeting glimpse of vulnerability replaced by a presence of anger that you knew all too well. He bit down on his frustration, attempting to maintain a semblance of composure. But you pressed on.

“I’m only kidding, take a joke, Rhysand. 500 years and you still have the emotional regulation of a teenager. Nice to see some things don’t change."

Rhysand's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and confusion, observing you and your wall of icy nonchalance. His name sounded foreign on your lips, spoken with such malice and distaste. Even the last time he had seen you, during a bloody war against Hybern, you had not been so venomous. This was a fact you both thought of as you stood here, now, in front of one another again. You moved gracefully through the room, ignoring their presence, and opened a small box that sat on your table. The delicate aroma of sugar wafted through the air. You took a seat.

Azriel and Rhysand exchanged glances. Your fingers idly played with the box, an ornate creation that held delicate, candied treats. With an almost casual indifference, you brought one of the sweet confections to your mouth, savoring the taste as if the weight of their presence meant nothing to you. You could feel the tension building in the atmosphere, heightened by their growing sense of agitation and frustration. It radiated off of them like heat. You welcomed it with open arms, like a freezing child in the cold.

"These are the loveliest desserts,” You explained, bringing the candy close to your face with an examining eye, “Hard to come across here. But I know a guy.”

“Want one?" you offered, dropping your candy back into the box and extending it toward Azriel, whose stoic expression remained unchanged.

"What? Doggy can’t take a treat?" You taunted with a measured smile. You didn’t miss the slight flare of his nostrils, or the way his shadows began to snake up his arms, angry and riled up.

A tense silence lingered as Azriel remained perfectly unmoving, his eyes holding a depth of attentiveness that made you uncomfortable. But the discomfort within you sought distraction, and you continued with your mockery. You waved your hands in the air as a dismissal.

"Bah, you guys are no fun."

The room felt charged as you baited them, your attempts to deflect the gravity of their visit becoming slowly evident in every casual gesture.

Rhysand's frustration reached a boiling point, and he took a step forward, shifting the conversation.

"We didn't come here for sweets and jests. We came for you."

You chuckled, a sound that held a bitter edge. "Me? You must be desperate, Rhysand."

A flicker of hurt crossed his eyes, swiftly replaced by a steely resolve. "There are rumors of rebellion here,” He took a pause, glancing around the room as if he was contemplating continuing. He spoke again, “But, I'm dealing with a larger threat that has me on the defense. I cannot afford an uprising."

Your laughter cut through the air like a blade. "Is the idea of civil unrest among your people an inconvenience? My, what an issue, must be terrible."

Rhysand's patience waned, his features hardening. "Stop this, Y/N. We need your help to prevent a disaster."

You leaned back against your furniture, your eyes narrowing as you regarded him with a chilling indifference. "I've heard nothing about any unrest. You've wasted a trip."

Rhysand's gaze bore into yours, an unspoken challenge. "Azriel has been in Hewn City, gathering information. He's heard the rumors. I know you're lying."

In that moment, a silent battle waged within you. The desire to help, to make a difference, warred against the fear of exposing yourself to the dangers lurking beyond your sanctuary. The memories of the past, the reasons you returned, echoed in your mind. You wanted to help, but you knew their presence could unravel the delicate life you had crafted.

Rhysand's voice softened, a genuine plea beneath the layers of frustration. "Y/N, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t serious. Why do you refuse to acknowledge that?"

Then, his eyes softened, sensing a crack in your facade. Inner turmoil clouded your eyes as you locked gazes with him. The conflict within you played out in the subtle tremor of your fingers, a telltale sign of something bubbling beneath your icy exterior. But as quickly as it manifested, you shut it down, fast enough to resolve Rhys of his attentive eyes. He swallowed and fixed his composure.

"Azriel has gained information that it's not just a rise against me. There are whispers of a rebellion against Keir himself. I need you to listen for information from your father."

Your father. A wave of nausea rippled throughout your body and you clenched your jaw in response. The title sounded strange coming from Rhysand, a stark reminder of your place here, of your place in his family. No, no. You thought. I will not let them see me falter.

Rhysand continued, "Azriel has gathered intelligence, but we need someone on the inside. We need you."

A cynical smile now played on your lips as you taunted them, "Maybe it's time for a change. The mighty High Lord struggling to keep control – how novel."

Azriel, who had maintained a cold silence until now, spoke up for the first time, taking a heavy step forward towards where you sat.

"We both know you do not mean that."

You turned your gaze to him, eyes dark. "And what do you know about what I mean, Azriel? You don't know anything about me."

Rhysand put a hand out in front of Azriel’s form, biting back his retort. The room hung heavy as you finally declared, "You've overstayed your welcome. It's time for you to leave."

Rhysand's eyes met yours with a determined glint.

"I will be back. Family does not give up."

His words pulled out a surge of anger bubbling within you. Family? Without a second thought, you stood up, your chair scraping against the floor. "Family, huh?" Your voice dripped with bitterness, and you moved toward him, anger etched on your face.

But before you could reach him, Rhysand winnowed away with a controlled fury, leaving Azriel lingering.

Azriel stood still, his eyes slightly narrowed, his brows furrowed at you. You met his gaze and felt a wave of guilt through your body, filling the hole where your fury once was a second before. If you didn’t know any better, it seemed as if Azriel was….. Disappointed? Hurt? But you stabilized yourself, pushing the observation away. Your anger, raw and unfiltered, had an intensity that took even him by surprise. He held your gaze. Then, like a wisp of darkness, he too disappeared, leaving you alone with the remnants of unresolved tension and the taste of bittersweet candied treats lingering in the air.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

a/n: hello hello!! welcome to my lil new fic!! im new here and i have no idea what im doing but i hope at least one person enjoys what has become my creative fictional baby. when i tell you this story has a place in my HEART....y/n here is multilayered and complex and flawed but that is why i love her!! serving cunt 24/7!!!

tumblr scares me so any feedback is so very loved and any advice is great too!! mwuah

[varnikareads]

“you are a language I am no longer fluent in but still remember how to read”

- Ashe Vernon, from “Skeleton Song”

[love-is-a-pearl]

[eywaseclipse]

I’m so sorry for the spamming, this is really exciting for the fandom!!! ❤️‍🔥🔥 avatar fire and ash concept art slideshow

[poetpony6890]

Kit climbing into bed with Kieran

Kieran: Can’t sleep?

Kit: no

Ash climbing in on the other side a few moments later

Kieran: can’t sleep?

Ash: no

Adaon coming in the room

Kieran: can’t sleep?

Adaon: no the barns on fire

[michellymy]

The Sun

AAAAAAAA I LOVED THIS DRAWING AAAAAAAA

If you can reblog, I’d be really grateful 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Kenyan, my beloved, slaying again. It’s a bit confusing cuz I didn’t want to draw the details, but in the left are Martra’s citizens.

Maivtre is their goddess and queen, and despite Kenyan’s actions, they still believe in Maivtre and Odabrani. She is that magnetic force, pulling they all around her orbit and shining more than everyone. That’s just who she is: a star, The Sun.

But what happens to those who want to be close of her?

And when the Moon covers her shine?

[lady-ashfade]

I am in love with Izuku Midoriya.

That’s it. That’s the post.

[moonpiies]

HALLWAY CRUSH PT2

pairing: e1610!miles morales x black!reader

a/n: this is part 2 of hallway crush , c/n stands for classmates name

likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated !

©️moonpiies 2023

miles had noticed you a couple of times in the hallways. mostly because you were either staring at him or you had walked past him at least 6 times within 15 minutes.

he heard your name being called a few times in the hallway by your friends.

the teenage boy took a particular interest in you, especially since the both of you shared no classes. but he knew that you took art so maybe he’s try to woo you with his art skills.

miles was walking to his locker when he walked past you and you turned to look at him a little. today, you had your hair done in a high puff and two strands coming out on your forehead.

“hey miles.” someone said from behind him.

“hey c/n.” he responded as he turned to look at her, “what’s up?”

miles kept his eyes on you as he watched you put some of your books in your locker.

“can you tutor me today with physics cause i really need the help.” she spoke, “mrs carter will probably strangle me if i fail another test again.”

miles laughed a little, “well i’m sorry but i’m busy later, maybe next time?”

“yeah sure.” she nodded, “is tomorrow good?”

“yeah.” he nodded as she left to go to her next class.

he turned around to see if you were still there but you had already closed your locker and left. maybe one day he’ll get a chance to talk to you in person rather than just exchanging glances with you from across the hallway…

[bonefall]

Did Brambleclaw actually disown the Three when the secret is revealed? I don't remember this happening (then again, it's been a while) but it does bug me how all three go "Poor brambleclaw :(( He was such a good dad to us and he has to learn we're not even his biokits :(((( poor guy" while simultaneously shitting on Leafpool and Squirrelflight despite them showing them more care and affection before AND after the reveal. If he does disown them, then.... WOW is the double standard real here.

In-canon? It's something you have to approximate. They don't seem to have a concept of ""disowning"" because blood relation is taken as such an insurmountable, FUNDAMENTAL fact of life. He doesn't write them out of his little kitty will and testament, but his actions ARE disowning.

It's as if the fact he is not their biological father is an automatic disowning. From the reveal onwards, he is immediately cold, distant, and the "betrayal" is mentioned often. The Three also explicitly don't blame him for his behavior, like it's just to be expected that he's Not Their Dad anymore.

Lionblaze in particular stares longingly at him several times, really missing him. And like... that's kinda what gets my goat so much

I do believe Brambleclaw is entitled to his feelings of betrayal. I believe Squilf was ultimately in the right to lie, actually, but he's still allowed to be upset and angry that she didn't trust him enough to tell him something so important. THAT SAID, YOU ARE NEVER ENTITLED TO TREAT OTHERS POORLY.

And that's what GETS me. He isn't upset that it was all revealed in such a painful and embarassing way when this could have been avoided, or that his lover struggled with this lie for so long without him, or that he feels he's lost his children. Squilf points it out in The Last Hope-- He's so ANGRY at Squilf that he will THROW HIS FAMILY AWAY

Lionblaze seems desperate to be his son again. Hollyleaf is gone for months, and Brambleclaw is still huffing about the secret when she comes back from the dead. Squilf is fawning in the hopes it makes him talk to her again. Doesn't matter. Brambleclaw Is Upsetti Spaghetti so the narrative will never examine his role in hurting this family he apparently loved so much.

(Narrative seems to understand full well that when Squilf lies for a good reason, that doesn't invalidate the hurt Brambleclaw felt... but when Brambleclaw is upset for a good reason, it actually DOES validate what he put her and his kids through)

In BB it is explicitly a disowning. He cuts them off as his children, and they reciprocate. BB!Lionblaze does so in a ball of fury, vowing that he has ONLY a mother.

[starelliie]

Vi was seventeen when she took her sister’s place in the Games. By winning, she becomes a new mentor of future tributes from District 3.

When Isha’s name is reaped, Viktor volunteers in her place. Alongside, the second tribute is reaped- Jayce Talis, his former co-worker and competitive inventor.

Their rivalry, born from their different personalities and a long history of conflict, grows stronger as they both get ready for the Games. As Jayce and Viktor start to form an unexpected alliance, they need to figure out how to cooperate. They must not only survive but also figure out how they truly feel and what their actions mean in a world that tries to control them.

Viktor said 'In all timelines, in all possibilities' and I answered 'Fine, Hunger Games AU'

(you don’t have to know The Hunger Games to read this fic😊)

Posting as Acts, not chapter by chapter.

ACT1 - FINISHED (6 chapters)

[madd-madd]

You feel so deeply because you're here to break the generational chains in your lineage. You are forced to feel the emotions that your parents and grandparents didn't heal from. You're here to break the generational cycle by feeling, processing and healing your pain.

-Ash Alves

[brw]

Allowing comic book creators to access social media was a mistake. Not even because anyone has done anything, I just think fans knowing Tom Brevoort's opinions has made people absolutely unhinged over a man who is objectively not doing half the shit they say he's doing.

He is the group editor. He is not writing the comics. He is not telling the story here. He is simply facilitating the stories the writers already want to tell. He is making sure that if Laura shows up in say, Exceptional X-Men, it will not contradict anything done in NYX or in her upcoming solo series. He is simply making sure the stories told are coherent, and that the creatives on board are all meeting their deadlines. He's making sure that if an artist has to leave for whatever reason, another one is ready to take the reigns. His overall contributions to the actual narrative of From The Ashes is minor. He could be the biggest Krakoa fan in the world and the overall narrative of From The Ashes would not change because he is not writing the story, he is simply making sure all the books don't contradict each other and are able to be what their writers and artists want them to be. That man is not enemy number one, he is ultimately Some Guy whose job it is to make sure nobody puts Wolverine in X-Force when he's meant to be in Uncanny X-Men. You do not need to scour his twitter, old Tumblr and substack to glean every little detail of the man's life and opinions.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

The problem with wanting to scroll the werewolf tag for inspiration is that it is awash in monster fucker content.

Which would... not normally be a problem, but...

[eywaseclipse]

New concept art for fire and ash. I have so many questions!!!!

Edit: I edited them a little bit to some more color!