⤑ Michael Greyeyes, 57, cis male, he/him (angel) 𓇢𓆸 here they come, one of blackwater’s finest— ASHWIN BLYTHE. everyone thinks they're so selfless and kind, but i know that they’re really possessive and insistent. whatever the case, it seems like weird stuff happens wherever they go, ever since they got here 18 years ago, especially at their job as the owner of Blackbear Motel.
FULL NAME: Ashwin Blythe - An'ostin
GENDER/PRONOUNS: Cis Male, He/Him
AGE: 57
SEXUALITY: Bisexual
SPECIES: Angel
OCCUPATION: Owner of Blackbear Motel
TIME IN BLACKWATER: 18 Years
RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single
Full biography under the read more. Please be aware of all trigger warnings before proceeding!
biography -
tw // former drug-dealing, gang-related violence, mouth injury
No one knows where Ash was born, or to whom, but he was found at 9 years old, walking barefoot in the woods outside of Ormiston, Saskatchewan. The farmers who happened upon the lost and freezing kid brought him in for a warm meal and got him a thick blanket. He wouldn’t - couldn’t - talk, and no one recognized him. Without the means to keep him on, he was sent off to work and live with other unfortunate orphaned children in a workhouse in North Dakota.
Ash got a name over time. He was sent off as an extra stablehand, a manure shoveler, a miner. No one wanted him in their family, but they could use his sheer force. Ash rarely spoke, but he collected stories from other teens. Tucked them away for some day.
At 18, Ash was sent off on his own. He’d created his name into something resembling a normal one - Ashwin Blythe. Ashwin to sound more credible for work. Blythe, after the boy in Anne of Green Gables, a book he'd become fond of after learning late in his teens how to read. An aimless wanderer much like when he’d been found as a child. This time, he had workable hands and the conviction of someone desperate to make money and survive. On his own, be damned. Solitary was fine.
He works where they’ll have him. Permanent callouses on his hands by 20. Often the coal scooper on the train, the gas station attendant. He slowly travels inward - an elongated tour of the United States.
At 30, he’s servicing cars in a podunk little town in Minnesota. Drugs are passed around and he watches it all from under a broken Chevy or behind a dinging cash register. He’s given hush money. Pulled in without ever confirming his interest. Soon he’s carrying it to places outside of town. Tucking grams into old work gloves and appearing for hand-offs. He sees handguns tucked into the backs of jeans. Knives on holsters off worn leather belts.
It’s all unofficial, and when he finally gets a new job at 36, he’s passed a bundle of cash to keep quiet - something Ash has never had a problem with. But something slips. Something changes.
He meets someone at a bar - a someone who entices him to talk. Stories of his younger years, funny anecdotes. And out comes his time at the gas station. It’s the first person Ash trusts to open up to. Someone he sees for months and months after.
At 39, Ash is working in Wisconsin when familiar forms come streaming out of a car. Four men attack him - and he's beaten and tortured.
The warning is unforgettable. After a hacking had been done of his tongue with a knife, Ash leaves town- leaves the state. He finds a motel in Colorado that doesn’t ask questions. He works for his room. Mute and spooked, he does his job well. Soon enough, he’s taking on new responsibilities, and managing it all.
Ever trustworthy, ever diligent, Ash once again moves up. All the while, he meets many who come in and out. With more money, he can help others- and he does. He looks out for those in need and he gives them refuge in free rooms. Extra blankets, towels, first-aid kits. He appears sometimes when they least expect it- but when they most need it.
At age 52, Ash owns the whole motel, too.
With more money and more resources, Ash has his tongue looked at and reconstructed at age 55. He still does not talk much if not ever, and his voice is rough and husky. Still, it has given him more freedom.
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the scene unfolding in front of morte was almost too funny. he was a big bloke, but the dogs made him seem all soft and harmless. something her time in blackwater had taught her to see as true — ash was exactly as he seemed, a big lad with a heart just as massive. when one of the pups barked, announcing her arrival, morte let out a snorted laugh, rolling her dark doe-like eyes before dropping to her knees at the dog's invitation, her fingers scratching behind the animal’s ears.
“ hello, little furball. still not winning you over, am i? who’s my clever boy, eh? ” she then turned her attention to the other three, having a bit of fun with them. her eyes flicked up to the man, chuckling quietly. “ how’s that crisp apple going? ” asked, laughing under her breath. “ you enjoying yourself here? seems like they are. ”
Ash often feels, due to his size and his issues of speech, and perhaps even his status as an angel, that he doesn't truly fit in anywhere. The motel is a refuge for him just as much as it is a sanctuary for others. And while he walks on the outskirts like some bodyguard of the city with his four exuberant dogs in tow... there is always a spark of warmth when someone recognizes him, or hell, even his dogs.
She has always been kind to him - and the matching kindness to his little pack is duly noted. So he gives a shy and somewhat awkward nod and a smile. It's just how he is - so used to an inability to speak that sometimes he forgets he now can.
"B...Better than... I ex...expected." A pause as he settles himself to lean back into the tree a bit, warm eyes on her properly from that vantage point. "Yes... w-we are. Come s-sit?" He offers.
Jasim had been on his feet for most of his Apple Blossom excursion and by this point, he yearns for a moment of rest, regardless of his excitement surrounding all of the activities and apple picking and alcohol.
It's with a spiked apple cider in hand that he spots another attendee—more specifically, his four corgis—and can't help but gravitate towards the group.
"Oi, look at you little cuties," and he probably should've greeted Ashwin first, yes, but who can blame him? He leans down and allows the excitable corgis to sniff at his outstretched hand. "They're so fucking precious."
Finally, he looks up at Ash's face and smiles, "You lot having a good time?"
By now, the angel is quite used to his dogs being the first thing someone sees. Maybe, in some ways, Ash prefers it that way. The spotlight off of him for a moment and on the 4 dogs who have the energy and excitement for social interaction.
Something that Ash unfortunately doesn't always match.
But he watches dutifully to make sure his little pack isn't acting out. And this man who's come closer to them seems kind enough to not cause any harm.
"Th-They... seem to be." A shy smile forms, a little bow of his head to the other. "M-Mostly... came for... the f-food." He holds up the small bowl of apple crisp, and eyes the other's drink for a moment. "S-Something... good?"
Freddie is continuing her excited sniffing and licking of Jasim's hand while Queenie has come back over, plopped down and settled her head on her owner's lap. Bowie and George have sat close-by the new stranger. "I'm... A-Ash."
OPEN STARTER ft. isaiah @ face paiting booth at the apple blossom celebration ! ( please feel free to assume connections ! )
isaiah has been practicing for this all year. he's studied the face painting books like they're gospel, and his youtube algorithm is permanently fucked due to the amount of face painting tutorials he's watched at this point. it's silly, he knows, but if he overheard a kid talking about how shitty their lion facepaint came out, he'd think he'd have to skip town.
"ah..." isaiah chuckles nervously at the other's request. he did lead with he can paint anything they wanted which has been a hit all day, but this request might be testing his artistic abilities. "that is...very interesting! i have to admit," he snaps his fingers, giving them an unsure expression.
"might be out of my comfort zone. what about a rabbit? or unicorn? maybe a tiger?"
It's not that Ash wants to get his face painted. It's more like he's trying to give Isaiah some experience. He saw how excited the other seemed about it, and with no kids sitting at the table... well, the tall motel owner had sunk into the chair to at least have a chat. Say hi, let the four corgis always flanking him have a rest and get some scratches and pets in from the face-painter. But somehow the topic had gone to his face getting painted and Ash looks... unsure.
"You... sh-should let me... paint yours, y-you know. Instead of... p-painting bunnies.. on mine." He gets his words out around a scarred up tongue that's still healing, a little smirk before he can help it as he holds out a worn hand curiously for the little paint palette.
The air smells like just about anything you could possibly make out of apples all in one place, and it had been a monumental task to pick which baked good to buy. But finally he's settled near a tree on the outskirts with his four corgis settled around him, picking at fresh apple crisp - with vanilla ice cream, of course. Long legs are tucked up, enjoying his spot in the shade when he watches Freddie, the youngest, hop up in excitement and tug at her leash when someone seems to be getting closer. And she's alerted the rest - four butts wagging as they all try to get closer to the newcomer.
A soft smile. "You c-can... say hi. Cl...clearly they're s-starved for... attention."
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OPEN STARTER ft. lara @ the pumpkin patch at the apple blossom celebration ! ( please feel free to assume connections ! )
"i'm just saying," lara starts as she kneels down to observe yet another pumpkin, "finding the perfect pumpkin is a skill. it takes time." she's only saying this because it's been an hour and a half and she still hasn't found the perfect pumpkin. lara is picky, her standards are high even when it comes to pumpkins, so when she sees slight discoloration at the bottom of the one she's looking at she sighs dramatically.
"this place is so shitty," lara deadpans with a shake of her head as she stands, continuing to walk down the path of dead grass through the pumpkin patch. "i swear every pumpkin we've looked at is disfigured or mushy. is there, like, a shortage on good, round pumpkins?"
It's too nice a day not to go enjoy the afternoon, especially with the apple blossom celebration going in full swing. Ash has slipped out of the motel during a slow period so he and the dogs can get some fresh air - and the four corgis are all calmly walking beside him, the leash hanging from his wrist. Hands tucked into his old work pants, an old denim shirt that's been worn for too long and patched up too many times.
He's a man of few words, but Ash leans down to inspect a cluster of pumpkins, turning a few over with a frown. "O...over-grown." He explains, shaking his head. "Wh-When they... stay on the vine... t-too long, they're... suscept...susceptible to more... d-disease." His healing tongue works over the words carefully as he picks up one that's a bit less affected, holding it up curiously for her to take a look at at one of the corgis puts her head on his crouched leg.
WHERE: apple blossom celebration — more specifically, one of the picnic tables near the vendor booths, probably off to the side like the little freak they are.
WITH: anybaddie, 1 / 3 ( open for replying! )
they’re trying to be social ― or, as social as they can be with the amount of classic rbf that is not genetic and a beat up nintendo switch that, evidently, is holding on by a thread. or many threads and duct tape that is zebra print. either way, for what it's worth, enzo is reading the room — there's different booths and they got … a drink. of something. they haven't had any sips of it yet, no telling if it was worth the ten dollars or if he's going to have to beg his mother for yet another twenty to break it into a ten. again. placing the device on the table face down, staring off into space has it's perks. for a moment. until someone is .. wandering? standing? looking? anyway. peripheral vision is a life saver, because now they can look .. not so weird. or maybe weirder. either or. “you can - um ―” adjusts in their seat, grabbing onto the switch for some odd kind of comfort thing. or something. “you can sit. like.” get out with it kid. “if you want – or not. it's just me.”
Four very happy and spoiled corgis are making their way down the thorough-faire of booths and food trucks... and Ash is there too, of course. Holding the leashes of his well-behaved dogs who seem far too excited to be sniffing around and enjoying the autumn afternoon. Ashwin, meanwhile, is his usual calm self. Taller than most and quieter than some, the angel has a soft smile on his face as he seems to debate a few of the trucks... but they all have long lines. He stands near some tables, still in thought, when he hears the offer and turns his gaze to the person there. "Th...thank you." And Ash hadn't been about to sit, but now he will - because sometimes the wind takes him places and he just goes with it. "C...Could use... a seat, I... th-think." His tongue takes longer to wrap around some words, but he sits himself down, picking up the smallest of the corgis - still a puppy, who puts her front legs up on the table to look in curiosity.
OPEN STARTER ft. manon @ talking tree ranch, early afternoon.
" don' worry, he ain't gonna bite. he's just itchin' for some pets. " luckily the pair situated themselves beside the most temperate of goats, while the others - boiling with incessant energy - tended to be more aggressive towards potential playmates. " eugene. silly name, huh ? i guess my name's probably silly to him, too. " words adorned with a bent knee and dropped shoulder, positioning themselves in order to offer a chin scratch to their fullest ability. " you think animals can like .. sense things ? things we can't see — no human, no witch, no vampire, no nothin' in a human's body. " a shrug, manon completely blasé, simply aiming to gather any input.
There's a familiarity in farm animals and the open air of a ranch that has Ashwin nostalgic for something he can't fully place. Standing at 6'6", he wonders if the goats are maybe more intimidated by him than he is by them - but at the same time as he walks carefully over, one of the spotted goats lifts his head to brush against Ash's worn fingers. A scarred tongue wraps around words a little slower, but he replies, "Do... y-you think that?" Ash's warm brown eyes glance back to Manon and he smiles softly as the breeze plays with his long dark hair. "I th...think there's... many things a-animals... pick u-up on. More... th-than us." A scratch under the goat's chin. "Th-they... give good... warnings."
Ash's face breaks into a smile, and Vic finds himself breathing out a sigh of relief - some bubble of tension releasing itself in his chest. It only lasts for a moment before the older man is leaning forward, down and pressing their lips together. It steals his breath, squeezes at his heart - Sure, he'd known where this was leading. But the reality is so much better.
He's almost too shocked to kiss back, despite all signs pointing to the obvious, and when it ends - his eyes are closed, lips slightly parted, and he follows after Ash, as if trying for more.
When he realizes that the kiss is over, he blinks his eyes open and the ruddy color of his cheeks and ears deepen even further - too warm. His breath comes out shaky, almost laughing - embarrassed at himself, at how he seems so..
Well, wanting. Like a teenager again with his first crush, kissing behind the bleachers during a basketball game.
Vic licks his lips and he tries for a smile, hands shaking slightly as they rest against Ash's waist. "Uh. Yeah - Yeah, I.." He nods. "Yes. Sorry, I - uh - whew. I feel like -- breathin' is hard. Talkin' harder."
Ash is rarely selfish. A pack leader, a werewolf who's spent much of his time making sure others are fed and clean and safe before himself - he's spent his time at Cliffsides turning it into a safe haven. It's a reprieve for those freshly thrust into the supernatural world. It's something he wished he'd had, years and years ago.
But in this moment, maybe he can be a bit selfish, and drink in Vic's presence and the way he smiles and holds the taller man's waist. Maybe he can delight in the way he makes it hard for Vic to breathe and talk. It's something just for him - and Ash's hands have stayed at his bowed jaw, thumbs tracing skin.
"B-Best... not t-talk then... maybe. For... a bit." A rare try at teasing too, followed by a slower and deeper kiss.
A mumble against his mouth, with a little smile: "...E-Está bien?"
His nose brushes Vic's nose. His lips kiss the corner of Vic's lips. His hands slip around Vic's waist, and he waits to make sure it really is alright, even if all his senses are on fire, even if his fingers curl into the other's hips just a tiny bit possessively.
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closed starter for: @ash-blythee
where/when: the cliffsides, morning
It is at least more private than New Moonlight, which is not to say she didn't immensely appreciate the assistance the shelter provided to her for nearly the last year. But now that Rafa is in town with her, she wants a space that's more their own. The Cliffsides Motel isn't exactly their old apartment, but it's better than making sure the other struggling vampires and werewolves knew to back the hell off her human.
The owner here is another wolf, not her pack, but she can tell with her developing senses that he's not a born wolf. He was bitten like she was, at some point in time. And Diego seems enamored by his corgis -- but Theo's afraid to ask if that's because her baby thinks he's a dog too at this point.
"Thanks, Mr. Blythe," she says, standing out on the porch landing in front of the room he's let them occupy. "It probably won't be our forever home, but it's nice to have some privacy for the family right now. Raf and I are working a lotta shifts to try to get our feet back under us."
Because, as it turns out, picking up and moving states, abandoning every sense of normalcy, and dealing with a new baby and monthly wolf-outs could really fuck up the old savings account.
It's a no-brainer, of course. While New Moonlight has been a wonderful resource for many new vampires and werewolves in need, Ashwin's aware of the less-than-friendly werewolves who work there, the somewhat feral newly bitten... it's no place for a new family getting their bearings.
He's given them the room that has the most privacy, off in the corner of the long building. Fresh sheets and towels, a microwave and mini-fridge. Shampoo, conditioner, soaps, toothpaste, new toothbrushes. Not always given to every guest at Cliffsides, but important for people who have nowhere to go.
"O-Of... course. It's... not m-much but." Four corgis are relaxing in various spots on the grounds, and Ash stands at 6'5", an old work shirt on and his messy long hair down. "I know... h-how it can.. be. As a... new w-wolf. So if... I can e-ever be... of help..."
"Great, well, like always these will come in handy." That was the closest Yoren would get to giving the other a thank you, and in all honesty the other wolf should be thankful that he was being that polite to begin with. Had it been a different meeting, in a different setting, Yoren wouldn't be being so civil. He moved to grab the box, ignoring the dog at his feet and walking around her to take it and started inside. He put the box down just in the doorway where other volunteers were there to sort out the recent donations and put them where they needed to be. "Well that's me done here, so if you can get your pups out the way, I can be on my way and you can be going... away."
Right. There's an undercurrent of disrespect that Ash knows he hasn't deserved. And he has nothing else to say to someone who seems eager to get away from him for his crime of bringing in donations. So the pack leader simply looks down at the corgis who are sniffing in excitement and curiosity, and clicks his healing tongue against the top of his mouth.
The four dogs seem to fall back and look to him. "...Y-Yes. Sorry, then." Ash states, murmuring a soft "aya" under his breath to his dogs so they follow him, and gives a salute to Yoren before turning to head out. "H-Have... a good ev...evening."
They're close. Vic would say almost too close, if he didn't enjoy the proximity. He doesn't want to be this shy or this - ashamed? He guesses. He wishes he could take what he wants, do what he wants, but there's always the fear that it'll be too much for him or too much for the other person. So he just shoves it all away and hopes for the best.
The best this time is Ash noticing. And he has. Maybe. Because he's touching him, lifting his chin up - crooked jaw and all - and looking at him like..
Fuck it, Vic's not a poet, he doesn't know what sort of flowery shit this might be. But it's nice. It's good. And despite being afraid, he wants to try. He'd like to go over. He'd like to spend time with him, but he's afraid that it'll go too far, too fast and it'll ruin it.
There's only ever been one person he'd allowed himself to get close to. And that man's standing right here in front of him, thumb brushing along the five o'clock shadow gracing his skin. Vic swallows hard, and nods.
"Yeah. Yeah, I--" Another nod, too frantic. "That's okay." Maybe he can be a little brave. "I just want to spend time with you."
The give and take, the guessing game, goes on just a bit longer. It leaves Ashwin wondering if he's pushing too much. Too close for too long. Lingering in a space that maybe Vic doesn't want...
But they're meeting eyes, even briefly. As Ash's thumb moves, he can see that Adam's apple bob on a strong neck.
I just want to spend time with you.
Ash beams at that. Sees that frantic nodding and both hands move up to cradle Vic's face, to calm him a bit. His warm brown eyes are alight with an excitement and joy, and he leans gingerly down.
The space between them is gone as the pack leader's lips rest careful and sweet against the other's. Testing waters, checking that it's alright. Please let it be alright. Thumbs rest at Vic's lovely cheekbones and warm broad hands are tangled into his dark hair... and Ash pulls back, checking the other's expression, almost afraid to look. "I... want to sp...spend time with you... too."
He doesn't really think anything of what he'd said, still bending down to scritch behind George's ear. "Yeah, man, anytime." Vic doesn't actually expect what happens next - his hand in Ash's. Immediately, his back straightens up and he locks eyes with him - unable to look away, but feeling like he needs to. Vic's on fire from the inside out, embarrassed at feeling so put on the spot.
His tongue feels a little too thick in his throat, and he's not sure if he even remembers how to speak. Eventually, when Ash lets go, he feels like he can breath again. The breath he takes is shaky, and he brushes his hand back through his hair. "Ah. Uh."
Even with his stutter and stop-starting, somehow Ash has said and done the smoothest thing possible here. And Vic's still not sure if the man is messing with him or if he's imagining things or some sort of combination of the two.
Clearing his throat, he tries for a smile. "I'm cool with that." His voice wavers. "I mean, yeah. Yeah, you can come over anytime." Another clear of his throat, "I got, uh, I got nothing better to do."
It's a leap off a cliff, because the only thing the old wolf has to go off of are inklings. Little looks and the way Vic goes a little red sometimes... he can get him to stutter so easily, and Ash can't deny that he enjoys it. But he's not used to all this, after all. And making someone so close to him, so important to him, uncomfortable... that would ruin everything.
Their eyes meet for a long moment. He stays quiet and just listens. As Vic keeps tripping over his words, Ash's smile only grows. But that look of confusion is still there. Eyebrows knit together, trying to just figure out if this man is...
"You... are? Don't mind... m-my company?" Ash is stepping closer before he can second-guess himself. Nearly chest to chest in the shabby old motel room. "Come... over th-then?" One hand carefully comes up, and his thumb brushes along the edge of Vic's chin. "If that's... okay?" He adds, and maybe he's asking for multiple reasons.
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With all the corgis rushing over to meet him, Vic's attention is split - so he leans down and lets all four of them sniff him and goes to pet George first. Silly little thing. "You don't pay me, but that ain't gonna stop me." He laughs it out, but relents and lets Ash take it from him - a little more red in the cheeks at the proximity of him.
Unsure of what to do now that he doesn't have the laundry to occupy his hands, he shoves them in his pockets and finds the doorframe to lean against. "I can come by yours anytime, you know that. Or you could stop by my dinky little apartment." He shrugs, and ducks his head at the nudge to his shoulder.
"Nah, you're not. You're spry, man." With a laugh, but he brings his thumb to his mouth and chews at the fingernail. Little bit of a nervous tick. "How much longer you got here?"
George is nearly falling over his own short legs to get to Vic, and Ash grins as he watches. The pack leader leans the hamper against one hip. It's nice seeing his friend, his fellow pack member, being so loved by the dogs. And he certainly catches the look on his face when he gets close.
"A-Any... time?" That gets a chuckle, and he sees Vic chew on his finger. Nasty little habit. And maybe a good excuse. The older man sets the hamper down and walks to him, and takes that hand with his own, pulling it gently away from Vic's mouth. A warm and calloused grip, as brown eyes regard him. "You... may f-find me sh-showing up a bit... t-too often."
His head tilts and that hand is still in Ash's for a moment longer before he finally releases it. Maybe standing a little too close. "As l-long as... you want."
It would be difficult to miss the man's guarding posture, and, along with his more-than-direct words, made away with any kind of pretense Winifred was latching on to — for which she was greatly thankful. She was never much of an actress to begin with. "I'm not here to hurt or fight anyone. I'm curious, not hungry."
Fred wasn't used to anyone being wary of her before her fangs were halfway through their jugular — she had long learned how to use her height and apparent frailty to her benefit — but it seemed like people in this town were much smarter than at home. "Yes, I was following you. I'm new in town and I was hoping to learn more about the locals. I apologize for the intrusion, I don't have a lot of experience with other species."
Curious, not hungry. The wolf watches her for a long moment before his brown eyes seem to soften a bit. He should be more careful - but he's always been someone to help out new supernatural beings. Those who are confused, lost... newly bitten or turned. Giving them a place to stay. Sometimes his name gets passed around in whispers around the town - and occasionally he'll find a nervous fledgling or pup standing at his door.
So he slows. "N-New... to P-Port Leiry?" He asks, slipping hands into his jean pockets. Ash seems to weigh his words carefully for a moment. "...are you... n-newly...." Words already are tough for him at times, working around a damaged tongue. "...changed?"
