#me @ fletch: -_------

[modmad]

TPoH: Update!

Read the new TPoH Update here!

Read TPoH from the start here.

Have you still not got your cute cosy Assok socks, or a dazzling butterfly pin? Head on down to Topatoco town and introduce yourself to my store for books, shirts, stickers and more! Oh, and you can always support me on patreon for little extras (like the sketches for each TPoH page!)

THANK YOU to everyone who took part in the Kickstarter for Volume 4! Thanks to you, we reached all of our stretch goals too! You're all super amazing and I am so grateful for you and your efforts!

[lex-a-lott]

scuffed dp and folly, trying to see how they'd look in my style :] thinking dp is soft shapes and folly is pointy/boxy shapes

[picspammer]

never let me down

[quartzhearted]

🎄

Look. That wine was fuckin' strong. Shinon can barely damn see straight--you can't expect him not to run into a guy as wide as this. Huge man, doesn't even flinch when Shinon's whole weight blunders against him like a bag of hammers.

And it gets worse. Shinon stumbles back, and--and the man's got a face like the side of a mountain.

Shinon doesn't let it remind him of Greil. But he does enjoy the view, just for a second.

"Uh…"

it isn't the holidays without a little ale in the tank. it never is! anyone from brodia could tell you as much, morion most of all!

after a day out of warrior kisses and various other activities ( as well as a healthy break to Do The Work He's Employed For ), morion celebrates the end of a fun-tastic day with a massive mug of ale. there's some other folks here that he enjoys talking to about this-or-that, so he doesn't realize how much time has passed ( and still doesn't, even now. who cares? ).

he's in the middle of setting his latest mug down when someone practically falls into him. this is not unusual for a man of his... width, so to speak, so he hardly moves from the impact. no ale sloshes from his mug, and morion's able to put it down in lieu of helping out whoever just rammed into him.

morion gets a good look at the guy and is immediately tipped off to his state---to put it bluntly, this man is hammered. pink face, general imbalance, and probably not even realizing how hard he's staring at morion's face. it's a little endearing, honestly. " what? " he asks, smirking. " there somethin' on my face, boy? "

he straightens his back and, in doing so, brushes his head against some mistletoe hanging from the bar ceiling. morion flicks a look over, then looks back at the wine-haired gentleman, then back to the mistletoe once more.

" hate to disappoint, but you ain't old enough for me, " he gruffs, though his voice carries humor. " i'd be happy to help ya home, though---you don't look like you can walk worth a damn. "

[front-facing-pokemon]

[regularconvexheadcanons]

What have I found

I just searched for Cub and this happened-

1: why is Cub watching me from the search bar

2: why is Scar the picture for Cub on the Hermitcraft Wiki? (I mean I can suggest a lot of Convex-related reasons but still)

3: what is that skin from the Reddit post? (Art from DearExam88 on r/Hermitcraft) I did not expect that.

[fletchlings-bow]

day 32

good evening tumblr. i intended to practise today!!!! i really truly did! however.... well. for any of you folks who've kept fishtanks or aquariums before, let me tell you what happened: month-old tank, had fish for a week, cycle crash, 10mgl/L ammonia. for those of you who don't know what that means: fish tank crisis.

[alexclaain]

im always on the search for good fucking queer books, but i feel like majority i encounter are just so "pure washed" to be the perfect representation so the is author un-shitstormable, that it makes me want to throw up a little in my mouth everytime

[evidenceof]

lynda day's just like me fr

[2leggedshark]

Starting to envision dude wrestlers as butches will heal you

[chaoticgoodthief]

False Feathers and Lightning Strikes

Written for the Writing Misfits Secret Santa for @watercolorfreckles!!! Bit of a disclaimer: I did struggle a lot with the prompt... very much not in the realm of my usual stories, so I took a few creative librities in order to make it easier on myself 😅 Hope you still enjoy!!!

Silvia takes a slow breath, trying and failing to calm herself as her fingers fidget with her- with Fletching’s gloves. Stick to the script. Don’t get hit. Get the money. That’s all she needs to do. Easy enough in theory, but if theory alone was enough to save her, she wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with. With that lovely thought still weighing on her mind, she steps into Restrike’s lair. “Restrike!” she hollers, forcing her hands not to shake as she strikes an appropriately Fletching-esque pose. “I have come to put an end to your dastardly schemes!” The silence drags on for just a beat too long, enough for her breath to catch in her throat when she sees a man in baggy jeans and a dirty t-shirt emerge from another room.

She’s watched enough footage of Fletching and Restrike’s battles to recognise the supervillain even without the flashy makeup and suit. But … it still didn’t stop Restrike from looking weird like this. The m- Restrike, a dangerous wanted criminal that could kill her in roughly two seconds flat if he wanted- looks at her with half-lidded eyes. “Oh,” he slurs, looking like five different definitions for exhaustion, “Have you?” This was definitely not in the script. Silvia flashes a smile, for once thankful for her usually useless degree, and improvised.

“I was informed that you have been scheming! Is that not true? Has evil finally taken a sick day?” Restrike makes a noise at the last line, halfway between a laugh and a scoff. And slowly, the supervillain raises one hand, fingers spread out as far as humanly possible. Electricity flashes to life between each fingertip, creating an appearance not unlike that of a wire fence. Then, slowly, each section condensed into a small ball of energy, collating over his palm and crackling softly. To most people, the action would have been a bit strange, maybe out of character for such a dramatically-inclined villain, but nothing more. But Silvia practically began shaking in her boots, her already sweaty palms now completely drenched with her own perspiration.

She had done her research, refusing to go in blind when she was already so far out of her depth. So, much to her current regret, she knew exactly how powerful of a Enhanced that Restrike would have to be to pull that off. And the level 3 supervillain that the HUA had assured her that Restrike would be… was about 5 levels below that power capability. Oh Amani have mercy- “Bird got your tongue, Fletching?” Restrike snaps, the venom laced in his words so potent that Silvia has to repress a shudder. She couldn't think of anything to say, could barely even remember what evil plan she was here to “thwart”. But she, as she was becoming all-too-aware, had far more pressing matters. Such as getting out of here in one piece.

As secretively as possible, she activates the Distress Signal. Nothing. Happens. “...I knew it,” Restrike spits, false grin finally dropping into a sneer. “Your game is up, you little fraud.” Amani please- Against her will, tears begin to form in Silvia’s eyes. Restrike’s fury falters, the ball of electricity vanishing as horror flashes in the supervillain’s eyes. Shame and fear mix into a sickening poison in her throat as she stumbles backward, taking his moment of hesitation as a chance to retreat out of the lair as fast as her legs could carry her. This was a mistake. What was she thinking? That she could be Fletching? That she could-

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

To say Evan had been having a rough week would be the understatement of the decade. He had barely eaten, barely slept, spending the majority of his time either sitting beside an eerily silent body in a hospital room. And then, during another meaningless blur of a day, the door to his lair opens, and he hears a familiar voice echo through half-abandoned halls. In a half-dazed state, he makes his way to the Main Hall, refusing to believe his own ears. And then he saw them. And something in him… snaps.

Not-Fletching looked so much like his archnemesis that it hurt. Same voice, same cheesy one-liners, same eyes, same carefree grin. He can’t stand it, can barely even look at the fraud without wanting to gag. They were not her. She wasn’t standing there, completely powerless and yet still stubborn enough to take him on. Stubborn enough to refuse to back down when faced with the General himself. Powerless enough to get struck down in a single blow, the ever-present shine of her eyes snuffed out like a dying ember.

His teeth are gritted as he forces a grin, slowly raising one hand and showing off his electricity powers with faux casualness. His electricity flowed, smooth and controlled in a way he hadn’t needed to use for years. Fletching had made him better than that, taught him how to enjoy his power rather than simply enhance it. But Fletching wasn’t here now, was she? Not-Fletching pales, and Evan can feel the faint buzz of a HUA-regulation distress button flaring to life. Fletching hated the HUA with a passion that Evan once thought impossible for the usually cheery hero. It takes mere seconds for him to disable it.

“I knew it. Your game is up, you little fraud,” he spits, could and hard in a way he had almost forgotten how to be. And at once, the dolleganger’s facade crumples. Frightened eyes stare at him, brimming with tears. The grin falls from their face. “H-hey. I’m fine. Evil n-never prospers, remember?” Evan’s breath hitches, limbs refusing to obey him as flashes of blood fill his vision. He barely even registers the doppelganger’s escape, barely can do anything at all other than force his uncooperative lungs to take breath after shuddering breath.

He doesn’t know how much time passes before he regains himself, sitting beside a familiar hospital bed with only a vague memory of walking there. “I don’t know what to do, Songbird.” The words tumble out of him before he can even try to stop himself, the silence that follows his words heavier than it had any right to be. “I’m not good. I wouldn’t even have known what the word means without you. How am I meant to live like this? How dare you leave me to live like this?!”

As per usual, his anger fizzles out as quickly as it came, leaving him feeling … hollow. The right thing. He knows that’s all that Fletching would have asked from him. He just… wishes he knew that that was. He sits there for a while longer, listening to the steady beep of the heart monitor, before inspiration finally strikes. HUA regulation. The distress button had been HUA regulation. All at once, he knows exactly what Fletching would have done. The thing that nobody except Evan had learnt to expect from her. The one thing that Evan knew how to do better than anything else. Burn it to the fucking ground.

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

“Police are still investigating the cause-” Silvia turns off the tv, a churning mix of satisfaction and guilt in her stomach. It shouldn’t have felt so good to see the HUA headquarters in charred ruins, especially with how many innocent people could have been hurt. But she couldn’t get the memory of the smug grins and leering eyes that had loomed over her as she signed the contract. She couldn’t help but think of the knowing smirks that had been on their faces when she had come back with empty hands and tears still streaming down her face.

Her phone buzzes, and she takes a calming breath before checking the message, already dreading the worst. She barely gets through the first line before dropping the phone, a soft gasp escaping her mouth. Fifty. Thousand. Dollars. Who had that much money to just give away to her? At once, the agony of the day’s events begins to loosen its grip on her. She could finally do it. After all this time, she could finally pay off that fucking student loan and move on with her life.

She… she could probably even sue the HUA if she wanted- and oh how she wanted it after what they had put her through, what they had done knowing that she literally couldn’t afford to fight back. A smile begins to creep on her face, sharp and violent. An idea begins to form in her mind, the lingering terror of her brief time as Fletching warping into a new form. The fire had been satisfying, but she could do so much better.

She calls an old number on her phone, still grinning like a madwoman. “Monty? Yeah, it’s Syl. I just got some great news.”

[masked-disciple]

Made it to 40 fletching. Against my fucking will but I did it.

[fletcher-braley]

OPEN STARTER (@providencepeakstarters) at crane bros. distillery

"I'll be right with you,” Fletcher calls to few folks he catches by the bar while he is taking a quick count of the bottles behind the bar.

His employment at Crane Bros. Distillery had been very different from his past bartending experience in Philadelphia, but Fletch has found that he fit right into the role. The customers are great, and even if one of his bosses feels a bit off kilter, he really has no complaints. He gets to meet new people, and his bills are paid.

He finishes scratching numbers down on the server pad and then stands to greet the patron. “What brings you by today? We have a drink menu, or are you in for a tasting?”

[idlenight]

Who else awake at 2am thinking about sidestep's handler.

(I am)

[pfctipper]

explain to me how we as a society have this description of john keats and yet only let tiny baby cockney dexter fletcher play him once in a 1992 bbc short film about benjamin zephaniah that no one saw. explain

[fletchlings-bow]

day 28

i had loose plans to practise tonight but... well.... i fell asleep. i obviously require the rest, so i'm calling it a rest day haha. it's been a really stressful day, so i'm being kind to myself.