deputystakes-a2

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                I AM THE ANGEL TRAPPED INSIDE THE BULLET. I AM THE EXIT WOUND TRAPPED INSIDE THE ANGEL.   a study of wrath, war, and the american dream.

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hmm.

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thinking. about getting back on ashley + remaking this blog.

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i’m not dead. godbless. but I’ll probably be putting ashley on hiatus for a bit.

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i hop on. i spam the dash. i hop off.

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kenneld​.

Not one for these trucks, Ber. He feels cramped, too long. His body aches to bend at multiple joints, fold itself in. Stashed in the passenger seat, he makes space where he can find it. The window rolled down, the younger man leans out to observe what Ashley predicts through the smokescreen. Got the makes of an oracle, that guy. He soothe-says their downfall with the grim reaper attitude that befits it. Ber is well-trained to heed what his betters say. He keeps his gaze fixed on the road ahead and the meticulously struck down pine that blocks it.

“They’re hiding in the ravine, hm?” He mutters, a fidgety hand inching towards the trigger of the rifle in his lap. “Wanna circle back or smoke ‘em out?”

no good angel on his shoulder. but the devil doesn’t have much to say, either. ashley blows smoke out the window as ber’s eyes fix on the pine, dead ahead, struck down by those who would oppose them—not a force of nature, certainly not a force of god. ashley’s aware of their methods, their tactics, and it pleases him, the way ber catches on. this is different than those hunting trips, rifles striking down the prey unaware of their presence. but ashley’s got faith, he’s got pride, he gets a fucking kick out of playing the whitetails’ game and winning. 

“baptism of fire.” all wistful-like, spoken on a single breath. only his eyes are smiling. what follows next isn’t so faint, so gentle—it’s a command, demand; his order given. cigarettes stowed away, his finger rests above the trigger; eager. “smoke them out.”

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choicescreen​.

“ mm. never liked a man in uniform. ‘specially ones wearing blue. “ she means it, and she figures ashley can take it without losing his shit. (bronca, the scourge of stonewall at the tender age of seventeen. bronca, facing down armed police alongside her cousins in AIM. she was a force to be reckoned with.) she places her bottle down, swirls her pointer finger in the moisture ring left behind. “ fuck happened to you, though? seriously, boy. “

young ashley graves, who was raised beneath the merciless sun, forged by the labor which wore him down to the bone.  young ashley graves, standing in formation with all the other toy soldiers.  sergeant ashley graves, clasping hands with master sergeant blackwood as he accepted the insignia which would weigh forever heavy over his heart.  (  he can take it.  he’s taken bullshit.  he’s taken bullets.  his nine years drag heavy behind him.  like a body bag.  like a burden.  it’s the road he took, which winds forward still — merciless.  of course he regrets it.  of course he drinks to forget it.  water doesn’t wash the blood off his hands —can you blame him for trying whiskey?  )

            “they put me on medical leave.”  dark circles.  the split above his brow, days old, held together by butterfly closures.  the bruising on his chest, some blood in his lungs from taking three rounds in a bulletproof vest.  “they called in two men, armed and dangerous.  took ‘em down.”  ain’t that just the damndest thing — a reminder to ashley’s mortality.  “was shot by the third.”

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CHARACTER QUIRKS AND HABITS.

likes artificial watermelon | sleeps in what they are already wearing  |  eats their cereal with milk | listens to music with earbuds | hates the summer | can recite past the first four digits of pi | eats frosting out of the jar | doodles on their notebooks | can bake cookies | has a garden | has had a snowball fight | eats pancakes without syrup | prefers shorts over pants | can name more than ten superheroes | has a plan for the zombie apocalypse |  uses the same password for everything |  can’t hold their breath for more than fifteen seconds | watches anime | can say ‘ I love you ‘ in more than one language | prefers mechanical pencils | thinks space is cool | takes personality tests more than once to make sure |  can’t tie their shoelaces | has a purse | likes salads | likes cool colors better than warm colors | knows how to braid hair | reads biographies | can ice skate | knows their mbti | reads astrology charts | prefers the star wars prequels to the original trilogy | plays video games  | reads the newspaper | likes chocolate ice cream best | doesn’t cuss |  memorizes song lyrics |  collects coupons | has a preferred order at starbucks | likes movie theater popcorn | has seen a play | listens to music with headphones | owns a hoodie |  would rather own cds than online copies | has written a poem |  can shuffle cards | subscribes to a magazine |  double dips when eating | drinks directly out of the milk container | keeps a journal

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CHARACTER BUILDING QUESTIONNAIRE  /  ACCEPTING. 

@origineal​ said,  3 and 12 for the character thoughts meme or whatever it is

HOW DOES YOUR MUSE TREAT PEOPLE WHO WORK IN THE SERVICE INDUSTRY?  he treats them well — he tips generously and keeps to himself.  though ashley possesses an incredibly choleric temperament, he is typically soft-spoken and tolerant towards strangers, especially those in the service industry.  he’s not terribly amicable, nor does he bother with small talk, but he minds his business and leaves without a hassle.  he is an angry person, and that much remains obvious to any stranger’s gaze, but his anger is his own.  those who receive its serrated edge are those he’s deemed deserving of it.

DOES YOU MUSE SUFFER FROM REVENGE BEDTIME PROCRASTINATION?  he does, in a way — though he’s sleepless to begin with.  at night, he is incredibly active, and in the lonely hours of midnight to early morning, you can find him partaking in what few hobbies he’s acquired over the years.  that is, if he isn’t drunk, or recovering from what he’s done while drunk.

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@deputyfangs

so where does that end, Frank?

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Generation Kill + Characters; Robert Timothy “Doc” Bryan

''The fucked thing,'' Doc Bryan says, ''is the men we’ve been fighting probably came here for the same reasons we did, to test themselves, to feel what war is like. In my view it doesn’t matter if you oppose or support war. The machine goes on.''

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i’ve been feeling Depleted lately but. I think I’ll try to get ashley’s blog back in business this week 🧍‍♂️

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            feel free to change pronouns / wording !

❝ ain’t no one coming t’ help us. ❞

❝ crazy motherfucker. ❞

❝ i want you t’ understand the reality of this situation. ❞

❝ you can feel it, can’t you ? ❞

❝ step forward and keep your hands where i can see ‘em. ❞

❝ god will not let you take me. ❞

❝ sometimes the best thing t’ do, is t’ walk away. ❞

❝ no one is coming t’ save you. ❞

❝ there’s some fresh clothes there. ❞

❝ be careful out there. ❞

❝ help ! i’m bleedin’ out ! ❞ 

❝ what if i told you you could be free from sin ? ❞

❝ you’ve been given a gift. now it remains to be seen whether you choose to embrace it, or to cast it aside. ❞

❝ they want you to be strong. ❞

❝ the lord giveth and the lord taketh. ❞

❝ a nobody from nowhere with nothing. ❞

❝ i’m not angry, but i’m disappointed. ❞

❝ we all need guidance in times like these. ❞

❝ this is the world ? this ?! ❞

❝ i did not ask for this. i was chosen. ❞

❝ i can save you. ❞

❝ i was blind. but now i see. ❞

❝ god is watching us. ❞

❝ it’s your fault. ❞

❝ was it worth it ? ❞ 

❝ we never should’ve been here in the first place. ❞

❝ drive ! drive ! drive! ❞

❝ you’re all i have left now. ❞

❝ we must atone. ❞

❝ i wasn’t scared i was … clear. ❞

❝ cut it out like a cancer and display it, for all to see. ❞

❝ you won’t regret this, i promise. ❞

❝ i know your sin. ❞

❝ your actions have consequences. ❞

❝ say yes. ❞

❝ this world is on the brink. you can feel it in your bones. ❞

❝ train, hunt, kill, sacrifice. ❞

❝ if it were up to me you would’ve been dead a long time ago. ❞

❝ sacrifice the weak. ❞

❝ you must have faith. ❞

❝ gives me a serious hard on. ❞

❝ you got that uh, badass ninja shit goin’ on like you might kill me any second i dig it. ❞

❝ shit man i been prayin’ on this all day man. ❞

❝ fucking global warming. ❞

❝ duct tape fixes everything. except marriages. and a broken home. ❞

❝ i dig y’. you kids still sayin’ that ? ❞

❝ you just cannot go around this world expecting perfection. ❞ 

❝ vaya con dios, asshole. ❞

❝ i hate small talk. ❞

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this is a collection of thoughts i’ve had about my own muses that i don’t see in enough character building questionnaires.   be sure to specify for multis.  consider this the main universe of the character unless specified. so here is my focal brainrot:   feel free to reblog. 

1.  what is a deal-breaking trait in another muse for romantic consideration?  this can be as detailed or as not as you like (to extend:  if your muse doesn’t necessarily have one,  why?)

2.  would your muse date someone who was fat?  *   (to extend:   if they wouldn’t,  why?  do they have a body type they prefer in others?)     

3.  how does your muse treat people who work in the service industry? 

4.  does your muse tip well/what would be the reason they didn’t? 

5.  sleeping positions are important;  what is your muses solo  &  with someone else? 

6.  what does their bedding look like?  (to extend:  do they make their bed every day?  how often do they change it?)    extra points for images. 

7.  what does your muse smell like?  (to extend:  does it vary throughout the seasons?  do they use signature perfumes or scents?  does their diet impact this?) 

8.  while there’s often a correlation between what a muse’s personal  &  inspired playlists look like,  what is your muse’ preferred genre of music?  what songs are playing if someone asks?   (think about the time you’re writing your character in). 

9.  name three other canon characters from any sort of media that you could compare/draw inspiration to your muse  &  explain why  (to extend:  can you detail a specific moment or trait that makes you draw this comparison?).

10.  show examples of three pieces of art in any form that represent elements of your muse  &  their imagery.    (to extend:  why?  is it the form of the art itself as sculpture or painting or use of oils?  is it the colours?  is it the image itself?). 

11.  tell me a line from a song that makes me think of your muse  &  tell me why.  is it the lyrics itself?  the composition?  

12.  does your muse suffer from revenge bedtime procrastination?  (the lack of free time during the day that means they will sacrifice sleep in order to garner this said ‘free time’). 

13.  do they look at themselves in reflective surfaces when passing them?

*  as a fat person who has included this,  to me,  i rarely see fat people in media being portrayed as healthy romantic options  &  therefore,  i think there should be an interest  &  should specifically regard certain beauty standards of the time.  this is a body type highly under-represented. 

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NEEDLESS STREET  /  ACCEPTING.

@tengallon said,  “you made sure we survived.”  (hm. slayer verse.)

            “i reckon that’s my job,”  a crack in the mask,  a grin on his lips, “keepin’ your sorry ass outta trouble.”

they’re back in the barracks now,  just the two of them,  sweating bullets in the residual heat.  from under ashley’s sleeves crawl his tattoos — eternal reminders of his feats,  trophies engraved into skin.  ( * not memories — history. )  hidden on his back lies the reaper.  this is what raylan gives his thanks to.  this is what the corps gives its thanks to.  this is what puts raylan in debt to him,  and ashley doesn’t want that — too often has someone been left owing,  owing,  owing him until the debts eventually grow too great,  and must be paid for in blood.  unlike his god,  this is not what ashley demands.

“but i don’t need your thanks.”  not physically spoken,  but clear as day in raylan’s eyes.  there’s gratitude,  which permeates the softness — soft,  where ashley’s gaze was cold and unforgiving.  shades of gray and blue,  he was all storm.  the grin falters,  and fades.  there and not there in the blink of an eye.  “don’t want it.”

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UNPROMPTED  /  ACCEPTING.

@deputyfangs said,  “did you ever get to the end of the dream?”  ( re “in the dream i am always posthumous” )

miles to midnight.  it’s dark out — as july fades into the far distance,  autumn falls upon them.  night descends over the hills even faster now.  days become weeks.  weeks become months.  and ashley keeps waking up from the same old dream.

in the dream,  he dies.  ( this is where it all begins. )  he dies the hero,  receives the medal,  he loses his life on that beach.  for good.  in the dream,  he bleeds out under dry desert sun.  in the dream,  christian bears the marks of the enemy.  in the dream,  the bullet misses,  thus ending the task his life had been set upon.  the bullet misses,  and he’s as good as dead.  dead and gone.  dead as a fucking doornail.  in the dream,  dirt showers over his grave,  and no one is saved by the preacher man’s words.  in time,  it would play out as scripted.  there were hungrier things in these wilds.  in time,  ashley would give up,  and a dozen hawks would descend.  in the dream,  he is always posthumous.  there’s a certain victory in seeing things through to the end.

slim fingers wrapped around the neck of an ice-cold beer.  christian wrapped up in a quilt,  ashley in a flannel.  seconds slowly tick closer to midnight, and closer still as ashley stares into the vastness before them.  the dark.  the sky.  the dark,  which cannot harm him.  

            “some nights.”  a smile.  an honest to god smile,  the kind that graced his lips a lifetime before he’d ever heard the howling of the dogs of war.  “but god always wakes me before i get to see the other side.”