#ash fletcher

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Mun vs Muse

Tagged by: @dimorphodon-defect

Tagging: @baddestdad @ofarkadia @humblestudentofbeauty @pawnshopsouls

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Soulcolour: Purple

Answering for: Ash Fletcher

Those who bear a purple soulcolor are responsible, conforming, and grounded. They prefer predictability over instability and do not take to change well. They prefer to follow a daily schedule to keep themselves motivated and on the path to success, and they don’t stray from their daily chores often.  While they don’t like conforming to society, they also don’t like to stand out.

History and tradition are a big part of their identity. They hold family close to their heart, whether they are found or by blood, and have a high moral standard of themselves. They prefer to be supporting roles in people’s lives, often doing the hard labor to make sure everything falls in place.

Since this is a serving type, they tend to become community service members and are most likely to volunteer to help their community. Despite their need to help others, they are highly introverted and keep a close closed off circle of friends. It’s hard to break through their wall to become part of their circle, but it’s rewarding.

Purple soulcolors are always worried about the “what ifs” and are more drawn to pessimistic or realistic outlooks on life. They are cautious around new situations and never expect they’ll succeed. They often feel misunderstood by society, since most types tend to lean on the optimistic side of life, and only want to point out things that may hurt others, but this causes them to appear like the “party pooper” of the group.

You can take the test here.

Tagged by: @humblestudentofbeauty / @faithfulhound

Tagging: @fazbear-security @echoedillusions @linkingstarlight @blue-bonanza

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The prince

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A Chance Encounter

open | non-mutuals please DM first

It was a beautiful day for a walk on the waterfront. The air was crisp, the sky was clear. People were out on their yachts, racing one another in the harbour. Perhaps not the wisest of pastimes when they shared the water with cargo ships twenty times their size, but the inevitable near-misses might be fun to watch from the seawall. At least, that’s what Ash said to get Jaime away from his work and out in the sun for once—because if there was one person who’d delight in the chaos of a multi-boat pileup, it was him. 

Unfortunately, it just meant that he brought his work with him.

“Okay, chapter nine, scene four.” Jaime set pen to paper. But even with his eyes fixed on his pocket notebook, he dodged around every last pothole and loose cobble he came across as easily as if he had a second pair of eyes. Maybe he did. The longer Ash lived in Holyhead, the less it took him by surprise. “The wendigo grabs me by my legs, and starts dragging me away into the forest...”

Ash hopped up onto the seawall and continued along it, arms out as if on a tightrope, though the concrete was a good two feet thick. The tide was out; waves tumbled onto the stones below him where once they would have met the wall, and here and there his eyes picked out the glitter of broken glass. His nose wrinkled—people should pick up their litter. “What if it grabs you by the hair,” he offered as the sparrows accompanying him decided that they weren’t fond of this precarious vantage point and fluttered down onto the safety of the cobbles. Only Samwise remained, nestled in his hood.

“Oh. My. God.” Jaime immediately scribbled this down, tongue between his teeth. “That’s, like, terrifying.”

Ash took a bow. “Thank you, thank you, I’m here forever.” But he bowed too deeply, and unbalanced himself on the wall. He caught himself just in the nick of time, with most of his dignity intact, by grabbing onto a nearby lamp post. Except that wasn’t a lamp post, he realised. It was a person.

“O—oh!” He yanked his hands away at once, sheepish. “I’m sorry!”

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😇 Ash

SEND 😈 TO TURN MY MUSE INTO AN EVIL CHARACTER FOR A DAY

Ash blinked. What was that? He looked down at his hands, examining them carefully, but whatever it was didn’t seem to have done anything physical. He still had all of his fingers. Nothing was green. He didn’t… feel any different?

Well, he’d look into it more later. Right now, he happened to be passing his favourite ice cream spot and felt the call. Mike had looked a little dour this morning… maybe he’d like some too.

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All good things must come to an end.

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Night in the Woods

Scene setting | open to mutuals

“You have a serious case of red eye in most of these.”

Ash frowned from his perch halfway up the nearest available tree. Phone-glare blue picked out the curve of his lips, the furrow of his brows, in all the places the light of the campfire couldn’t quite reach. But he was comfortable with this arrangement, evidently, as his swinging feet tapped out a staccato to match the boom of the snare drum from the radio below.

Mike himself had already made it clear what he thought of him climbing things like a damn monkey, but only grunted in response. He had neither the patience or grit to argue. Maybe once he had a good strong cuppa in his belly. Logs popped and crackled as he stoked them under the kettle, and at last a smile touched the shadows worn in around his eyes and mouth.

Ash found some vegan marshmallows at the superette when they all stopped to pee before hitting the mountains, and had been excited ever since. S'mores were the most important part of campfire tea, after all. It was nice to see his smile again. They had to drive halfway across the country to find it, into the deepest, darkest woods.

Once Holyhead was far enough behind them, they could pretend that they were safe. Even if they never truly were.

“I was kind of hoping to get at least a few good ones… hey? Mike? Are you okay?”

Was he? His eyes never wavered from the fire. If he looked away, he was afraid of what he’d see in the dark. It was too still, like it held its breath, waiting for something. He poked the logs with more venom than he intended and they spat at him in response. “Just… splittin’ ‘eadache. I’ll be reight.”

It wasn’t… a lie. Metal shrieked against the inside of his skull, claws scratching, scratching, scratching. It made his teeth ache, his hair stand on end. A twisting of the knife that dug into the marrow of his bones.

It was up to something. But it always was. Just for one night he wanted to pretend.

“Maybe it’s because you’ve drunk nothing but whiskey since we got here?”

He glanced down at his tumbler, shrugged, and took another swig.

Ash dropped from his branch to the ground with a scatter of leaves, tucking his phone back into his pocket. A single sparrow was fast asleep in his hood. “I’m going to refill our water container. The river’s pretty close.”

“I don’t want ye walkin’ out in’t dark by yerself.”

“I’ll be fine.” He smiled. “I don’t think bears are dumb enough to mess with us.”

Maybe it was for the best, Mike thought as he turned and scrunched away from the light. The danger wasn’t out there. He clenched his teeth and ignored the tremble in his right hand—always the right—as he set out more mugs. “Pick yer poison,” he barked into the other tent. Were they even awake? “Tea or chocolate?”

The kettle wailed.

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Rules: Make you and your character with this pixel art creator Tagged by: @ask-the-fiesta-time-crew

(I have done this before but it was on the old blog, so might as well answer again. I copy-pasted the ones I’m still happy with, and redid the ones I’m not)

Me. Truly a despicable creature.

Ash Fletcher, rated cutest weapon of mass destruction two years in a row.

Michael Conner, the gunship of helicopter parents.

Eric Nye, accidentally stabs people in the back, grows roses over their hastily buried corpses.

Gael Fletcher, had sex in twenty different countries.

Louise Bordelon, fights gender roles, killer robots and the establishment.

Jaime O’Donnel, knows what you did last summer.

Jacob Straker, drank the Kool-Aid. All of it.

And an adorable bonus!

Tagging: eh, if you see this and think it looks fun, go ahead.