foxedthecards

[foxedthecards]

Character Development “Hard Mode” Meme: send a number & character to my ask box  and I’ll write an answer/headcanon in reply.

Does your character have siblings or family members in their age group? Which one are they closest with?

What is/was your character’s relationship with their mother like?

What is/was your character’s relationship with their father like?

Has your character ever witnessed something that fundamentally changed them? If so, does anyone else know?

On an average day, what can be found in your character’s pockets?

Does your character have recurring themes in their dreams?

Does your character have recurring themes in their nightmares?

Has your character ever fired a gun? If so, what was their first target?

Is your character’s current socioeconomic status different than it was when they were growing up?

Does your character feel more comfortable with more clothing, or with less clothing?

In what situation was your character the most afraid they’ve ever been?

In what situation was your character the most calm they’ve ever been?

Is your character bothered by the sight of blood? If so, in what way?

Does your character remember names or faces easier?

Is your character preoccupied with money or material possession? Why or why not?

Which does your character idealize most: happiness or success?

What was your character’s favorite toy as a child?

Is your character more likely to admire wisdom, or ambition in others?

What is your character’s biggest relationship flaw? Has this flaw destroyed relationships for them before?

In what ways does your character compare themselves to others? Do they do this for the sake of self-validation, or self-criticism?

If something tragic or negative happens to your character, do they believe they may have caused or deserved it, or are they quick to blame others?

What does your character like in other people?

What does your character dislike in other people?

How quick is your character to trust someone else?

How quick is your character to suspect someone else? Does this change if they are close with that person?

How does your character behave around children?

How does your character normally deal with confrontation?

How quick or slow is your character to resort to physical violence in a confrontation?

What did your character dream of being or doing as a child? Did that dream come true?

What does your character find repulsive or disgusting?

Describe a scenario in which your character feels most comfortable.

Describe a scenario in which your character feels most uncomfortable.

In the face of criticism, is your character defensive, self-deprecating, or willing to improve?

Is your character more likely to keep trying a solution/method that didn’t work the first time, or immediately move on to a different solution/method?

How does your character behave around people they like?

How does your character behave around people they dislike?

Is your character more concerned with defending their honor, or protecting their status?

Is your character more likely to remove a problem/threat, or remove themselves from a problem/threat?

Has your character ever been bitten by an animal? How were they affected (or unaffected)?

How does your character treat people in service jobs?

Does your character feel that they deserve to have what they want, whether it be material or abstract, or do they feel they must earn it first?

Has your character ever had a parental figure who was not related to them?

Has your character ever had a dependent figure who was not related to them?

How easy or difficult is it for your character to say “I love you?” Can they say it without meaning it?

What does your character believe will happen to them after they die? Does this belief scare them?

[foxedthecards]

((Burned out this week with work starting and general bullshittery going on plus the Depression and the Anxiety my beloathed mental companions have really upped the ante and given me a thrashing. Giving brain a little break for a few days

I give you the mental image of the boys in a sleep pile together sadly I'm too tired to draw it but I love ya'll))

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((Brain really not braining tonight ough))

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Joan Didion, The Year of Magical Thinking

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((Random headcanon fact about Mr. Fox! Being of dual nationality, that is British and American he speaks with what was referred to as the Mid Atlantic or Transatlantic accent although decidedly a touch more Brittishy. An example of it is here from the movie Arsenic and Old Lace starring Cary Grant))

[foxedthecards]

@the-haunted-office

Doom over there at these two like

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Jonas interlaces his fingers and presses them to his mouth in deep thought. " Wouldn't we have to be fish to count as that though? "

"Okay, but like, is it still seafood if it's with a freshwater fish?"

"Would it not just be lakefood or riverfood or something?"

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" Technically isn't all water just really the sea if you think about it? Like it evaporates up from it and becomes clouds and rains and does it all over again? " Jonas muses.

"Okay, but like, is it still seafood if it's with a freshwater fish?"

"Would it not just be lakefood or riverfood or something?"

[foxedthecards]

And Kit...blinked. Again a record scratch moment, again being completely brought up short by Artair's unexpected gesture. So much so that as he gazed at Artair, shivering and holding on to his arm for dear life, scared out of his mind, the rage boiling up in his brain started to sputter out as rather confusing softer emotions steadily welled up in their place. He WANTED to be enraged, he wanted to lose control on Artair's behalf. If the knife had caught him across the face like that...if he'd allowed that shitstain to hurt Artair...

Artair felt the muscles of Kit's arm tense a moment, heard the creak of his glove as his fist tightened. Then Kit's stare softened.

Artair's glasses had gone crooked again on his pale face. His free hand reached out, once again straightened them gently on his face and this time his fingers lingered against the side of his face, light and reassuring. Only for a moment though. There and gone within the space of a breath.

" Alright, " he said, his hand now patting at Artair's arm clinging to him. " Good lord, Wren. You're more scared than I am. And I'm the one bleeding. C'mon. We'll go, then. Lead..."

His gaze slid downwards as he spoke, finally getting a good look at the slice across his chest and realizing in fact he was bleeding quite a bit. More than he’d realized....

...that time Jo had got him in the neck...that time when he'd found Mam in the bathroom...that time...when...when...the shattering glass...

A weird cold cascading sensation passed through his brain like a silk veil brushing over bare skin. Artair felt him waver a second in his grip as he stared down at himself and his other hand shot out rather quickly, grabbing the edge of Artair's cardigan. His foot planted down firmly on the sidewalk, narrowly catching his balance as he blinked and shook his head vigorously

" Sorry. Yeah? Your apartment. Alright. Lead the way, Wren, " he muttered as the sensation passed. How embarrassing, where had THAT come from? Blood had never bothered him before like that.

Kit had rapidly scrambled back to his feet almost the moment the bastard had cut him only to be brought up short and severely surprised when Artair came to the front trying to...protect him?

He stood there rather stupidly for a moment with blood running down the front of his stinging chest before the bang of the window made him blink and come back to his senses. As he watched the rotten son of a bitch scuttle off with Artair between them, immediate rage seized his mind. He'd kill him. He'd absolutely kill him with his bare hands. He'd wipe his goddamned brains all over the nearby wall.

His hand came up on Artair's shoulder and gave it a quick little tap as he started moving past him, ignoring his own injury. " Sit down on the curb there, Wren. You look white as a sheet. I'm going after him..." he said, his voice dark and terrible.

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Kit turned his head inquiringly at Artair. " Ah! Well it's a little bit of a game. Usually it's with a knitted beanbag of sorts instead of a crushed beer can. But nothing too complicated, " he remarked. " Mainly just use your feet to keep it from hitting the ground. And see how long you can do it. "

The tnk! sound of the can popping up through the air echoed off the walls of the warehouse as Kit bounced it over to his other foot. He gazed at it with thoughtful amber eyes. " Eh, don't fancy being a corporate shill, Artair. My soul might be a nasty black wreck but it's my own, isn't it, " he commented. " They'd be desperate to scrub every 'fuck' and 'shit' in those lyrics, sanitize them for commercial consumption and I hardly ever write them down anyways...just sort of spit then out up on the stage while I'm there, as they come in my head. Here put your foot up like this. I'll bunt the can over to you...try to catch it on the side of your foot, alright? "

He closed his eyes and made his amused noise again. " Mmm. Flattery will get you everywhere, " he said, his tone light. " Thank you. Mostly self-taught but not like that's a feat in of itself. Learn the basic chords then everything else is just you fucking around to find interesting noises, isn't it. Vagrant lifestyle is bill-free however. "

He opened his eyes, glanced down and idly rolled an empty beer can up onto his foot, balancing it on it. He played around a bit with it like a soccer ball, making it pop repeatedly in the air a bit and switching legs as he bounced it off the side of his shoes.

" Music is my possessive mistress, " he joked. " She'd never want to pay my bills anyways. It's another creative way to scream at the world, that's all. " He stood there a second on one leg with the beer can balanced precariously on it. " Ever play hacky sack, Wren? "

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i am NOT a bite risk. do not listen to them

[foxedthecards]

Forget about torturing your blorbos, putting them through the wringer. I'm putting my blorbo in perfectly ordinary, pleasant situations. Their tortured personality will cause them anguish anyway, making an absolutely mundane scene into the most dramatic, agony filled affair as though the world is ending and it's all their fault

[foxedthecards]

"*Ah I see we are choosing violence tonight. Excellent...*"

@townofcadence @bloodlustiing

[foxedthecards]

Kit had rapidly scrambled back to his feet almost the moment the bastard had cut him only to be brought up short and severely surprised when Artair came to the front trying to...protect him?

He stood there rather stupidly for a moment with blood running down the front of his stinging chest before the bang of the window made him blink and come back to his senses. As he watched the rotten son of a bitch scuttle off with Artair between them, immediate rage seized his mind. He'd kill him. He'd absolutely kill him with his bare hands. He'd wipe his goddamned brains all over the nearby wall.

His hand came up on Artair's shoulder and gave it a quick little tap as he started moving past him, ignoring his own injury. " Sit down on the curb there, Wren. You look white as a sheet. I'm going after him..." he said, his voice dark and terrible.

@foxedthecards // Self Indulgent Meme

❰❰ HURT ❱❱ The city streets were dangerous at night and even Kit wary as he was, didn't anticipate a sudden ambush out of nowhere. In any case the guy had a switchblade. But that wild vicious slash aimed at Artair's pretty face never got anywhere near him. Kit shoved Artair back quickly, catching that blow across the front of his own body instead.

Artair--- froze, when the guy-- a familiar face with a fucked up hand, approached. He'd gone into such overdrive that he didn't move a muscle, overwhelmed by what choice he should even make. So he made none of them, of course, and Kit made one instead when the knife came out.

Artair yelps as he's shoved, but his eyes go wide at seeing that cut across kit's shirt and chest. It isn't deep, switchblades were made for piercing rather than cutting, but it still leaves a shallow line and a new rip in Kit's clothing.

Seeing the blood is enough for Artair to feel dizzy. Guilty? A dozen things at once that it's hard to even think so. Impulse guides him more than thought, and he darts between Kit and the guy, arms up as if to protect him.

"D--don't---." His voice wobbles, but his glare is intent and leveling. It doesn't really stop the guy, except when a window slams open from one of the nearby buildings. That seems to spook him, potential witnesses, and he flees the scene just as quick as he's entered. Artair doesn't move from in front of Kit, not until he disappears entirely from view. He --- he wishes he was braver. Stronger. He wishes he could've hit him like Kit would've.

But instead he turns to Kit. "You---- y'shouldn't've done that." The concern is clear on his face. "Fuck Kit-- yer bleedin'." It-- -is obvious that is what's happening but he feels a little wibbly and out of sorts.

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He closed his eyes and made his amused noise again. " Mmm. Flattery will get you everywhere, " he said, his tone light. " Thank you. Mostly self-taught but not like that's a feat in of itself. Learn the basic chords then everything else is just you fucking around to find interesting noises, isn't it. Vagrant lifestyle is bill-free however. "

He opened his eyes, glanced down and idly rolled an empty beer can up onto his foot, balancing it on it. He played around a bit with it like a soccer ball, making it pop repeatedly in the air a bit and switching legs as he bounced it off the side of his shoes.

" Music is my possessive mistress, " he joked. " She'd never want to pay my bills anyways. It's another creative way to scream at the world, that's all. " He stood there a second on one leg with the beer can balanced precariously on it. " Ever play hacky sack, Wren? "

" They haven't? " Kit made a little tch of disapproval. He gestured to Artair and started off towards the edge of the stage, jumping lightly onto the floor. " Then I'm glad to be the first. Let's go then. We'll head towards one of the side doors there, away from the main crowd. "

The night air felt considerably more refreshing outside of the close press of heated bodies and cigarette smoke inside and with the steady beat of the band somewhat muffled by the warehouse walls, it was easier now to hear the sounds of the night. Kit glanced over at Artair as they walked along, watching him with those hands folded behind his back.

" You do look like you're getting ready to go to a lecture, walking like that. So are you a teacher of some sort? " He took one last little puff of his cigarette, now little more than a stub and flicked it away over his shoulder where it landed on the gravel, the red end slowly fading into black.

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Those brown eyes blinked and glanced up at who was talking to him. Ah the barkeep guy. Well that was kind of his thing wasn't it? Jonas had been on the other end of the counter before it was practically an unwritten rule of the job: chat up any soppy sadsacks every once in a while and make sure they were reasonably alright and not in need of a cutoff and a call for an Uber. Only in this case he got to be the soppy sadsack to be chatted up. Eh well. What the hell. At least he wasn't falling down drunk. Yet, anyways. The night was still young after all.

He rattled the ice thoughtfully in his cup and then drank it down. " I'm ok, " he responded almost automatically and then appeared to think a bit. " Kind of, " he added and then rested the side of his face against his hand. " Got any suggestions for something stronger that might get some holiday cheer in me? I think that's gonna be the only way I can manage it, otherwise. "

It's the eve of Christmas and the little red head that's sitting at the bar has been staring solemnly into his drink for a good half-hour now without saying anything. He'd ordered himself a mistletoe margarita and it was already making a puddle on the counter. Wonder what's on his mind...

Bill had to admit that he was curious about this patron that had come to the bar. He was alone, and he seemed to be fairly down in the dumps. Maybe a date had stood him out. Perhaps he was lonely. Or life had just worn him out.

Well, Bill could at least provide a distraction in the way of a pleasant conversation. It was still fairly quietly at the moment.

"Hello there," Bill said, as he strolled to where the young man was sitting, glass and little washcloth in his as he cleaned it, "I couldn't help but notice that it looked like you could use some company and maybe a listening ear. You got something troubling you?"

A smile was on his face as he spoke.

[foxedthecards]

What's Your Role In The Tragic Play?

Your Result: Jonas

unassuming extra

you had maybe 3 lines but you will forever own my heart. you play a very minor role, one often forgotten about (not by me tho bby, i'll love you forever). however, your significance in the story is pretty big. something about you propels the story forward in a way no one else can do. you tend to blend into the background, and you probably like it that way. you want a simple life, free from the drama of the main characters. unfortunately, your story is almost always cut short. your role is usually a death that kickstarts the plot. going unnoticed did not save you, but it probably did bring you some peace of mind

Your result: Mr. Fox

misunderstood villain

prepare for an onslaught of both the most dehumanizing and hateful takes, and flood of thirst comments. you are chronically misunderstood. whether or not you're actually evil is debatable. you may be acting out for revenge, to defend someone you love, or even just to protect yourself. you're a pretty jaded person. you don't trust or even really like most people. maybe you did at one point. but that part of you is gone, and you don't go a single day without grieving it. you think a lot about what your life could have been. you're stuck in the past. you're angry and maybe you don't even want to be, but this is the only way you can see to survive. you're open, but less in a trusting way and more like a wound. you don't like to let people see you, but the hurt spills out of you before you can stop it. you're impulsive, even as you try hard to plan and prepare. maybe someday your side of the story will finally be heard. until then, you can convince yourself that being hated is safer anyway

Tagged by: @chibitantei

Tagging: Whoever wants to give it a try!!