#his friends. he is a bastard and a baby . i think scrappy is like those kids that say fuck without actually knowing it’s bad

[tenspontaneite]

Wish Fulfilment (Chapter 1/?)

Rayla woke up in a tiny body in a tiny bed, blinked, looked at her tiny hands, and said “Right.”

(Time travel; indulgent and light-hearted. Ao3 link)

---

  Rayla woke up in a tiny body in a tiny bed, blinked, looked at her tiny hands, and said “Right.”

She spent the next few days taking stock of herself, the time-frame, her living situation, and her own abilities. She was a pipsqueak, lacking the advantages of a decade of training and conditioning, but she’d been a scrappy thing even at this age – climbing trees, making a nuisance of herself, getting hardier and more agile than most bairns did, and so on. She scrambled experimentally about some trees for a while, and assessed her stealth by mud-bombing the townspeople she disliked, and in the end decided that it would do just fine.

Her parents had joined the Dragonguard recently, and judging by her age, Callum must have lost his mother only a month or two ago. She regretted that she couldn’t have stopped that, but, well. Nothing to be done.

She spent a further week stealing supplies, testing herself, and getting ready. The Moon answered her when she called on it, even so close to its darkest phase. Magic answered too, when she begrudgingly tested the spells Callum had bullied her into learning. It would be enough.

She left a note for Ethari and Runaan that read ‘I know you’ll never listen if I tell you not to look for me, so just try not to waste too much time, alright? I’m fine.’ She took a moment to feel disconcerted at her history of leaving notes and disappearing, then added ‘Sorry. Try not to worry. I’ll see if I can send letters or something.’ With that in mind she took a brief detour into Ethari’s workshop and stole a shadowhawk. With that tucked into her pack, she did some last-minute checks of her supplies and headed out.

First on her agenda was heading North-East and breaking up her trail. Runaan would absolutely try to follow her, so she made it as hard for him as she possibly could, laying false trails, disturbing the true ones, and dunking herself in every body of water she could find to break up the chance of the family Moonstrider being able to track her. He’d probably still find his way through the first leg of her journey, but that was okay. She could live with that.

Rayla arrived at the mountainous plains on the edge of Lux Aurea a week later, finding with satisfaction what she’d expected to: vast tracts of farmland, developed for the feeding of the equally vast population of the golden city. It took a further day to find the farm itself, whereupon she broke in, ambushed the residents, and made some very uncompromising demands.

The Sunfire farmers looked so bewildered at having been hogtied and extorted by a baby-faced Moonshadow child that they offered absolutely no resistance except plaintive questions like ‘where are your parents’, or ‘are you okay’, or ‘do you need any help’. In the end Rayla departed with her packs three bags of seeds heavier, and also stole a Sunfin on her way out. She flew on the placid creature for three days due West before running afoul of the Sunfire army.

Rayla spent eight disgruntled hours in the custody of those soldiers, refusing to talk, until they finally left a twin-tailed inferno-tooth tiger to guard her while they went off to send letters to their superiors, trusting the guard-cat’s intelligence and ferocity to be equal to the task of keeping watch on a wee Moonshadow bairn. This turned out to be a mistake.

Within an hour, the animal was eyeing her with interest. Within two, it had drifted close to sniff at her. “What’re you looking at?” She demanded, in her tiny irritable child-voice, and that was when the thing instantly and very plainly took a liking to her. She spent ten minutes grumbling loudly about being sat on by a giant cat, then finally conceded to pragmatism and started using its tail-flames to burn through her ties. They’d only used rope, not wanting to restrain a child too sternly. It was very helpful stupidity on their part.

Rayla escaped on the cat and was only mildly singed by the ordeal. Later, after a day of very enthusiastic pursuit-evasion, she settled down with said cat and eyed it with resignation. “You’re not leaving, are you.” She said. It licked her with a sandpapery tongue almost as big as her entire face, and that was answer enough. She sighed. “Well, it’ll make the journey a lot faster, I suppose.” She decided. “But you’re going to be a pain to hide.”

Unconcerned, it rubbed its face against her insistently enough to push her over. But she’d grown up with a shadowpaw, so she was used to that.

Rayla, who was not good at naming things, named it Cat.

 ---

 Brightly-coloured cats with two flaming tails were not stealthy. They just weren’t. Cheerfully unaware of how inconvenient this was, Cat spent the next two weeks ruining her efforts at stealth by roaring at inconvenient times, following her when she’d told it to stay put, and in general by being constantly on fire. As such she arrived in the Pentarchy and crossed the Weeping Bay with considerably more flair than she’d have preferred, but at least the tails eliminated the need for campfires. It had obviously been used to cook food before, and tolerated the experience very agreeably, if it had also been fed.

On the third week she finally figured out that the thing had been trained with Luçais commands, and muddled her way through her extremely bare vocabulary in the language to finally get Cat to follow basic directions. With the ability to tell it to stay put somewhere while she went off to do something else, things went much better. She disappeared into the mountain range on Cat’s wings, choosing the least-populated route she could manage, and in the end managed to approach Katolis castle with no one the wiser that she was there.

Finding somewhere to leave Cat proved challenging, though. She briefly considered the alcove in the cliff under the castle, but dismissed it on grounds that someone would notice the roaring eventually. Cat was a noisy bastard. Eventually she resigned herself to the fact that she’d just need to relocate it periodically, and left it in a relatively well-concealed ditch with a freshly-killed deer corpse to occupy it.

Rayla waited till nightfall for the first excursion, calling on the Moon to turn her skin to shadows, and stalked down the castle halls, learning it as it was in this time. Learning the guard stations, the patrol patterns, its rhythms and sounds. She was half-way to checking whether Callum still had the right room at this age when she stopped in the middle of the hallway, goosebumps raising up in lines over her arms, feeling a vast and familiar presence passing over her mind. She slumped with relief.

“Ezran.” She murmured, more thankful than words could say. “So you made it back too.”

Being a baby had apparently not agreed with him, because he seemed to lack the control and finesse he’d developed with age. Instead his ability brushed at her in vague sweeps of feeling and intent, saying relief and frustration and this way. She followed his lead to the nursery where he was kept, his guards pressed into sleep by his far-reaching touch.

She looked down at him in his cot, so tiny she wasn’t even sure if he could crawl, and raised an eyebrow. “Somehow, you’re even tinier than I expected.”

“Ee,” he expressed sourly, blinking up at her with eyes that looked too big for his face. Babies were so weird. His hands reached up and made grabby motions at her, so obediently she leaned in and let him slap one baby hand onto her cheek. With the skin contact, it got a lot clearer.

Been here months, he seemed to complain, along with a rush of gratitude/relief/fondness at seeing her. Couldn’t do anything/missed you/been awful.

“How many months?” She asked with interest, and after a little back-and-forth managed to surmise that he’d awakened in his body very shortly after the titan-slaying party had departed for Xadia. She winced, entirely aware of how terrible that must have been for him. “I’m sorry, Ez.”

His little baby face screwed up, as if he was going to start crying. He almost did, but then seemed to summon the will to suppress the infant-body’s powerful instincts before it actually got going. Really sucked, he managed to express, with a little echo of his helplessness and anger. Then, subverbal: an impression of the heavy miasma of grief that had hung over the castle. Harrow crying, Callum crying.

She inhaled sharply. “Callum-“ she couldn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t make it back? She thought, numbly, and that was as good as saying it, with Ezran touching her.

He blinked wide ice-blue eyes at her. Hasn't yet/getting worried, he said, tangled up in the impression he had that she’d arrived later than him, hadn’t she, so maybe, maybe Callum would join them eventually too. He hoped. But time was passing and he was afraid.

She closed her eyes. Exhaled. “Did Zym make it?” Yes, he had. “Can you talk to him the same? Reach past him?” Talking: yes, but it was hard. Reaching: no. “Okay. We can work with that.” She hesitated, steeling herself, not thinking about Callum. “I’ve got a hotcat a little bit past the castle. Think you can convince it not to make noise?” She asked, half-heartedly.

Ezran blinked again. Then he looked delighted, a wide baby grin spreading across his face. He nearly bowled her over with the wave of enthusiasm and approval for her having made a proper animal friend, and expressed his intention to begin communing with said animal at once.

Rayla nodded a little, still tightly controlling her reaction to the news about Callum, and after a moment reached into the cot to lift Ezran up under his wee chubby baby arms. He made a surprised gurgle at her, then burped contentedly when she hugged him, patting her clumsily on the shoulder. He was so bloody little. It was making her annoyingly emotional. Damn it, Callum, she thought to herself, get back here already so you can look at how tiny your brother is with me.

Ez sighed, patting her with mental impressions of hope and affection and subdued sadness. Then he told her, though not in as many words, that Cat was a terrible name and someone really needed to make fun of her for it.

Rayla huffed and set him back down again. “Shush, you.” She said gruffly, and hesitated. “I’ll…come back to see you tomorrow, alright? Maybe in the day this time.” She had to get an idea of the daytime watch rotations too, after all. She still wasn’t sure what the plan was, but taking someone hostage might well end up being part of it. That would be a lot easier, with Ez on board. A lot of things would be easier.

A little spitefully, to let off steam, she made one final stop before leaving the castle that night: she broke into Viren’s rooms and stole one each of three pairs of his boots. She took these back to Cat and watched it maul the boots in question with a great deal of satisfaction.

Cat did quiet down after whatever Ezran communicated to it, but unfortunately also decided that if it wasn’t going to announce its presence by roaring, it had to do it some other way. This was how Cat ended up spraying the brambles at the edge of the ditch in urine, and incidentally also how Rayla discovered that it was a male. Thereafter the area stank too much for her to linger in, so she had to go off to sleep in a nearby tree, beyond the warmth of Cat’s burning tails. Rayla woke the next morning with a pronounced crick in her neck, grumbled a little, then went back to work.  

  ---

 Notes:

So this story exists because I made myself Really Sad about five year old Callum when writing the latest chapter (21) of piaj, and then made myself Even Sadder by promptly writing a future scene where Callum talked about said period of his life to Rayla, and then out of abject desperation I fired up a fresh document and started writing this to comfort myself.

Setting background: canon, but with worldbuilding borrowed from piaj. Future Rayla was somewhere in the region of 18+ years old, unspecified. Circumstances of the future and method of time travel left extremely deliberately vague. I have every intention of playing as fast and loose with this story as I can possibly manage; I already have one exhaustive and meticulous tdp work and I’m not interested in reallocating my brainpower from that to this.

Warning: what plans I have for this story heavily feature piaj worldbuilding that I consider pretty critical to the setting, and also unlikely to come out any time soon. Therefore, it’s pretty guaranteed that I’ll get two or three chapters in to publishing this and then have to keep the rest to myself for the next four years while piaj progresses.

 Other details:

Sunfin: a creature I came up with for piaj worldbuilding. It cannot breathe, and uses Sun magic in place of respiratory processes. If kept indoors it will die very quickly. It’s unintelligent and usually lives at high altitudes and will not generally touch the ground in its lifetime, but can be trained for use in farming, where it’s very useful in dispersing large amounts of Stuff (i.e. water, seeds, fertiliser) over a field from the sky. They’re basically crop dusters. Concept and name inspired by the Skyfin from endless legend. Looks somewhat more like a cross between an air shark and manta ray though.

Ezran: future Ezran in this setting was very, very powerful. Less so now that he’s a one year old baby. Rip.

Rayla: future Rayla learned how to use Moonshadow form at most times of the month, and in addition was eventually nagged by Callum into learning some spells. She uses them as part of her stealth repertoire but doesn’t consider herself a mage.

Callum: is baby.

Cat: a twin tailed inferno tooth tiger, highly trained, and in use by the Lux Aurea military as a war mount prior to his desertion in this story. They had a different name for him, but he rather prefers ‘Cat’.

Luçais: piaj worldbuilding; this is the in universe name for the French language as Draconic is the in universe name for Latin. Spoken by many Sunfire elves.

[mcjickson]

THE CONSTANT

I think about Edith Fuller a lot. Edith Fuller, if you don’t remember—and there’s absolutely no reason you should, all things considered—was a wunderkind kindergartener who qualified to represent Tulsa in the Scripps Howard National Spelling Bee. You know, the one for eighth graders. At 6, Edith was the youngest contestant in the history of the Bee, and as such was the darling of the media covering the event. And with good reason—as she had no idea of the relative enormity of her achievement, she carried herself with the infectious humility of a genuine 6-year-old, not a media darling. She was basically the Bad News Bears of the Spelling Bee: a scrappy little towheaded upstart that you couldn’t help but root for. She made the final round of competition but caught some brutal words early in the day, and spent the rest of the event doing insanely adorable color commentary and interviews. And then the tournament was over, and Edith went home with her family and back to being a 6-year-old. I could not wait to see her come back as a first-grader. I was so very excited to see how far she could get with another year of study under her belt, so when the next year’s finalists were announced, I immediately searched the list to find her speller number. And she wasn’t there. She hadn’t qualified. There was no joy in Mudville; first-grade Edith had struck out. I felt a slight measure of relief for whichever 8th-grader from the greater Tulsa region had pulled off the upset. Turns out it wasn’t an eighth-grader, though. It was a dapper little 3rd grader in a bow tie. Young Sal Lakmissetti had done the impossible and knocked out America’s sweetheart. I was happy for him—until I read about how it happened. One of the reasons that watching the Bee is so emotionally involving is that the tension between the spellers and their occasionally overbearing parents can be so heart-wrenchingly intense. Edith had been a respite from that—her parents seemed to have been surprised that she had developed those skills. Sal’s dad on the other hand, had gotten indignant when Sal lost to Edith in Tulsa the year before. So he hired the previous year’s tournament champion to give Sal private lessons for a year. You know, the way you do when you want your 3rd grader to trounce a 1st grader in a contest for 13-year-olds. Not for nothing, but that is basically the plot of the movie Bad Words. Sal’s dad had turned him into Chitanya Chopra. I wonder if Sal’s dad knows how to spell “autofellatio.” I wonder if Edith had been heartbroken when she lost the Tulsa bee. Turns out, the next year she wasn’t interested in participating at all. And her dad didn’t push her, because it wasn’t about him. Edith Fuller’s dad got it right, and he just let her be a second-grader and pursue whatever her enormous second-grader heart wanted. I was ecstatic she didn’t return, that she was out there getting to be a kid. The funny thing is, I’m not really obsessed with spelling per se. What I am obsessed with, however, is the raw human drama of watching painfully awkward home-schooled kids on ESPN. There’s no denying the hilarity of some of their more awkward moments. But the real reason to watch is to marvel at their bravery. I’ve heard it alleged that the #1 most commonly held phobia in American adults is a fear of public speaking. And yet year after year, some of the most sheltered kids in America gather in a hotel in DC called The Gaylord (because these kids aren’t bullied enough, I guess), and walk up to a microphone before millions and risk entire-hometown-disappointing embarrassment. Wanting to more fully understand what these kids go through, I let my family talk me into entering an adult spelling bee sponsored by the local library. After my initial disappointment that “adult spelling bee” didn’t mean it was a four-letter-words contest, I got fully enthused at the prospect of competing, and even had our friend Scott design a t-shirt for me to compete in, emblazoned with a bee illustration and the mantra that governed my participation: “Edith Fuller is my constant.” By “constant”, I was referencing what was maybe the best-ever episode of Lost, a self-contained narrative about a man searching for the love of his life across shifting time periods. The usual complications of time travel narratives were overcome by the idea that in order for him to find his true path, he had to serve as a “constant” to remind other people what their true purpose was. My true purpose in entering the bee was to try to have the kind of come-what-may attitude that made Edith shine. And that’s largely the way it went down. I breezed through the first few rounds with ease, the words got hard in a hurry, but I acquitted myself nicely. After a solid initial hour that whittled a field of about forty people down to six, I was relieved when I got thrown a softball for an umbrella-drink-loving goober like me: daiquiri. Which I promptly misspelled. I’ll never forgive myself for snatching defeat from the jaws of victory, but I’m always happy to throw that t-shirt on these days. Of course, now, a couple years removed my own bee experience, it’s more evident than ever to me that when I throw that t-shirt on, Edith Fuller is a codename. A transparent alias, at that. I’m sure you have a person in your life that serves as your constant: not necessarily your partner or best friend (though it could be), but the person you go to when you need to be reminded of who you really are. What you’re really about. Who believes in you with no agenda. I’ve been lucky to be that for a few people—I was my brother Patrick’s constant, for instance. And while Declan’s always been my wartime consigliere—there’s no one more clutch in a crisis—Delaney has always been my constant. They say having kids is like living with your heart outside your body, and that has always hit me at a cellular level. I don’t talk about it often—or ever really—as it’s not something that happened to me, or that I went through, it’s Delaney's story. But for context I need you to know that when she had a debilitating mystery affliction a couple years ago, she was put through a series of tests for terminal illnesses. Those tests came back negative, but for a little while I had to confront the possibility of losing my baby girl and it nearly fucking broke me. Thank jeebus, the folks at the Mayo Clinic were able to diagnose her malady, and it’s something she had to learn to live with, and cope with, and thrive with. And she’s done all of that, admirably, but it required her to delay college for a frustrating year. Given the ways we’ve all been sidelined lately, it’s done me good to remember the ways Delaney got through her involuntary gap year with grace. Multiple creative projects. Tending to the care of small things. Finding ways to breathe through the worst of it. And leaning on the people who love her most. And I’ve treasured her as my constant like never before, and spending time with her got me through being 2x4’ed by my avowed best friend. (There’s been some good-natured conjecture by well-meaning friends as to whether the most recent playlist was indeed a break-up mix. First of all, I don’t want to knock whatever any of you have do to get over somebody, but listening to a bunch of songs that rub your nose in the loss just isn’t my thing. There’s no denying that when I sequenced the songs, I was struck by the lyrical subtext that emerged, but they weren’t selected for that purpose. In fact, most of those songs were in the playlist before I found out what had happened. But it merits a thoughtful inquest, in any case. You poor bastards.) And I guess that’s the thing. There’s something legitimately sad about when your best-laid plans and most fervent desires don’t work out the way you envisioned, especially when it was completely out of your control. (And dear readers, as you well know, most things are out of our control.) But maybe, just maybe, if you can somehow keep your eyes open for the joy you find on the detour, and have a sense of where—or more specifically who—your true north is, you might wind up writing a better story than the one you had planned. And maybe this new story was the point of you all along. I love the thought that right now, in all likelihood, Edith is doing something that's simultaneously challenging and entirely age-appropriate. Which, in a very real way, will be her trophy for not participating. I don't think Edith's done with the Bee, but I'm also not sure I would be heartbroken if she was. And I absolutely believe that, much like Delaney, Edith has more in store for us than we could ever imagine. Even in the middle of missing my people—and especially my North Dakota hussy constant—I have to say that being reminded of who I really can be has me feeling like one of the Bad News Bears myself these days, with all the swagger of Ahmad stepping up to the plate in the Astrodome: “Back up, suckers. I feel good.”

[blatherkatt]

i just started reading your blumenthal kids reunionfic and i LOVE IT! Its so good and so full of potential and angst and I LOVE IT!!!💞💞💞 The way you write Eodwulf is soooo good hes such a mess and so gay help him. and Astrid Omg... I cant wait for more of her i checked out some of your posts on here and shes just great??? You've clearly put a lot of thought into them with the child designs and stuff, did you have any major inspo for the two of them like songs or other characters and stuff???

hey tumblr dont…delete part of my answer what the heck

anyway!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH,,, ed ( @tactfulgrimalkin ) is the one doing the actual writing but we plan everything together and i edit and do artwork so he deserves lots of love for the great writing…i dont remember what else i had here before tumblr deleted it so i hope thats the gist of it 

eodwulf is a gay disaster of a bastard man and astrid is SO fun and im SO GLAD UR EXCITED TOO BECAUSE WE SURE ARE

anyway you just opened pandora’s box and i’m very sorry for the length of the rest of this answer but here we go prepare for some cursed content necessary to answer that question ( | ) w ( | ) it was a Wild Ride getting these two characters to where they are boy howdy 

so the thing is in order to explain how we created these characters i actually have to get into the origins of the fic on the whole because the two are inextricably linked, and also, the origins of this fic are incredibly cursed and you can send all ur hatemail right here go on blast us we’re ready 

but we were talking about caleb and how we’re both excited for whenever astrid and eodwulf turn up, and the thought came up for basically the rough skeleton of that scene in chapter 2: 

“hey how messed up would it be if instead of them both hunting him down like we’re expecting…one of them comes in with a huge savior complex and sincerely thinks he’s delusional and should still be in the asylum, how MESSED UP would that be” 

…and then shortly after that, this happened 

thats the cursed part dont say i didnt warn u but listen you know we’re right

also that pic of caduceus didnt exist back then i went back and got this screenshot just to share the curse with you all

ANYWAY

in classic us format we got carried away and eodwulf got slotted into the role of that scene in chapter two and his character was largely developed around that scene, like, what kind of person would still be clinging to caleb after all this time to that degree to make that happen? and what was come up with was an extremely avoidant person clinging to a fantasy version of things wherein they don’t have to fight

(eodwulf was developed into a Person before astrid, i should note at this point, and ed did most of that developing; i took point on astrid later on)

but around this time i went “screw it im gonna do some concept art we’re both in too deep now” so here’s some of that for u guys 

started with them all as teens and did a couple sketches as well as one of baby (well. teen. so baby) caleb/bren/we were calling him felix at the time as some of u probably already know 

first draft had astrid with longer hair than eodwulf lmao check this out 

flipped the hair length on those two which was for the best because at the time we were imagining eodwulf as a bit more mischevious which is another thing that got reversed over time now astrids the prankster and eodwulfs the overworked mom friend because bren takes astrid’s ideas and makes them SO MUCH WORSE but he still looks better with longer hair and then i played around w/ colors for a while and wound up w/ this

voila, the initial kid concepts, to which subtle yet vital changes were  made after time. if any of you are curious about if im frustrated that that’s still the best i’ve ever drawn eodwulf’s nose the answer is yes. yes i am. 

astrid’s hair is not messy enough, theres not enough freckles, and she does not look ready to fight the entire world for a dare. 0/10. 

anyway then i did adult versions which look WAY OFF NOW LMAO 

eodwulf with way too much beard, looking far too messy when he ought to look very clean so that he can hide how much of a disaster he actually is, and also a glimpse into the very boring Ice Queen/Heartless Bitch we vaguely had astrid as to start with. even more out of character tho is the earring, astrid as she is today would absolutely never tolerate an earring unless she absolutely had to, girl’s got sensory issues but she didn’t back then. ALSO STILL NOT ENOUGH FRECKLE 

anyWHO a while after this it was decided that eodwulf has ADHD, something both the authors have a whole lot of lmao, and that was the point where ed REALLY took off and developing eodwulf went out of control and we both went Well I Guess We’re Gonna Have To Write This At Some Point Now

and with that happening is when developing astrid took more priority i think, because man, at that point in the game she came way too close to that really  annoying trope that shows up in fanfic a lot wherein The Girl is A Bitch who is Getting In The Way Of ~*The Yaois*~ and thats like, thats bad. we knew from the outset we were absolutely not setting this up as a love triangle because we both hate those but even w/ her having no romantic relationship to either of the two, like…she was kind of just There and the one who was most loyal to trent (the only thing of her original characterization that really stuck, honestly) and sooo boring???? 

so like, and i say this honestly, i managed to COMPLETELY FORGET that “reverse sasuke” cursed comment from the beginning of all this and STILL go “well what if we made her more like caleb’s rival that’d be fun” 

and that’s how astrid sorta wound up accidentally morphing into the Scrappy Underdog of this anime trio and calling her a naruto analogue is extremely cursed but also not inaccurate tbh 

started out with the concept of her popping into bren’s window because she heard they were doing magic and wanted to learn it too and evolved from there; we decided that she was gonna be neurodivergent too but, hilariously, initially that she was “the best at pretending to be neurotypical” (WE COMPLETELY REVERSED THAT AND IT IS FOR THE BETTER. SHE’S SO MUCH MORE FUN NOW) and made her also autistic because it one meant she could be like SAME HAT at bren really hard which’d make her feel more like part of the group instead of just the odd one out, and two because it fits with the whole rivals thing

branching off of that we made her just. INCREDIBLY direct. like. astrid’s thought process is “how can i accomplish what i want accomplished with the smallest number of steps? what are the consequences of doing it this way? do i give a shit? no? im gonna do that.” 

(which is why she climbed a tree to get into bren’s attic instead of using the door because that way she just completely skipped having to convince his mom to let her in)

i cant get into it much here because so many spoilers and we’re gonna explore it all, but like, astrid’s backstory turned into this exploration of the intersection of sexism and ableism especially as applied to a medieval-esque society in which the word “autism” doesn’t even EXIST and in which a convenient double standard exists Right There in the form of bren and like,, its gonna be good guys im excited for it 

as far as characters tho she does also have just a touch of Vimes from discworld to her, albeit like, she’s lawful evil to his lawful good, but she’s got the same tendency to stick REALLY FIERCELY to the rules that she thinks are important, even when they inconvenience her, even if it’d be so much easier to bend them just this once 

and for songs i cannot link like any astrid songs because they all might accidentally give away so much BUT I CAN LINK AN EODWULF SONG 

this one was HUGE for him 

uhhhh i think that’s everything i can think of that we can say right now unfortunately so i’ll end this with a comparison to the current teen designs we have now that are being used in the actual fic, even tho im not fond of how bren came out in this picture, but like, for the sake of comparison 

lets see how far we’ve come 

I N C R E A S E    F R E C K L E 

[vestirkano]

CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE PROMPT

01. Tell us about your character’s name. Was it given to them or chosen? Does it hold any special meaning? If your character has aliases or nicknames, how did they get them and what do they mean?

CONTENT WARNING: kidnap mention ///  his real name is vaestkyrn nakos tenua. when he was kidnapped, nobody wanted to pronounce his name vaestkyrn. everybody called him by a bastardized version of it. his real name meant radiant and gentle. over time, he adopted the name vestir which resembles most closely to the zelosian name that means radiant and victory. he doesn’t actually know this fact. he did intentionally pick the surname of his mentor on the pirate crew because she was the only one who showed him kindness and warmth. possibly even more so than his parents who never came to rescue him.  

02. What is your character’s relationship to their homeworld? Do they hold fond memories of it, or do they hate it? Are they still here, and if not, do they miss it?

vestir has not gone back and refuses to go. no matter how much money may be offered, he will not return to zelos ii. despite any fond memories he may recall, there is a caustic taste left in his mouth. he holds a deep resentment towards his “big and powerful” senator parents. 

03. Describe your character’s relationship with those who raised them. Was it positive? Negative? Neutral? What sorts of ideologies were they raised with, and do they still stand by them now?

his birth parents are dead to him (his father is actually dead). they were very active in the politics scene. they were excellent economists. they wanted to reinvigorate zelos ii’s economy by pushing for less strict trade regulations but were unsuccessful in putting their foot down in other matters. their military forces were often sent to follow plans proposing by other neighboring planets’ senators to “benefit” the republic as a whole. their gaping hole in security allowed pirates to infest the planet. vestir still remembers a variety of their capitalist driven values. he doesn’t care much for their teachings about integrity and service though.

his mentor, mykana, was a middle-aged woman who wasn’t a conventional maternal figure. but she did do her best to keep vestir alive, even going so far as getting hit in vestir’s place by the captain. he did pick up his temper from her but he also retained her work ethic, selective & fierce protectiveness, and tendency to be emotionally distanced.

04. What is your character’s relationship with the Force? Is your character Force-sensitive? Whether or not they are, do they believe in it? Do they lean more towards the dark or the light or are they somewhere in between?

it’s like vestir has a chronic disease that isn’t properly diagnosed. the force tries to speak to him but he was never taught to decipher it so it feels like a pressure building in his mind. he describes it as a cross of a migraine pain and white noise that he can ignore for the most part. sometimes it’s much worse than others. if he was any more sensitive to the force, maybe on the same level as his baby brother, he might’ve gone completely lost to the pain.

05. What three word would you use to describe your character? What three words would your character use to describe themselves? What three words would someone close to them use?

i would use: stubborn, selfish, arrogant

vestir would say: strong-willed, opportunistic, handsome

he has exactly one person who’s close to him... and that person says: “late for dinner”

06. Describe your character’s aesthetic. Do they tend towards fashion or function? Do they like to accessorize? How does this extend into their own personal spaces, such as their home or their workspace?

vestir's way of dressing himself is borderline homeless chic (it is a real thing, and yes, high fashion really found a way to commodify this) and actually looking homeless. it’s almost genius the way he always looks like he has nothing valuable on him at all times. but in almost every pocket is a mf KNIFE or something. his ship looks the same way on the inside. it’s all pretty neat and modest looking, and it’s because he’s hidden stuff everywhere. 

07. What are your character’s vices? Guilty pleasures? Bad habits? Weak spots?

he’s hot tempered. his indoor voice is still him yelling. he wakes up and sits in bed, frowning for a good 30 minutes. he cuts his own hair. pick ass eater. he thinks white lies are fine. he shoplifts; not because he has to but because he can. sometimes he steals from his paying clients too. fights any mandalorian on sight.

he has a weak spot for sugar water. it’s the only thing that gets him drunk. alcohol has no effect on him so he does tend to hustle people into drinking contests. naturally money is a huge weak spot as well. 

08. Tell us about your character’s relationship with food. What are their favorites? Do they enjoy cooking? Are they adventurous? Will they eat absolutely anything or are they hard to please?

he photosynthesizes. it cuts down on expenses so that he has more money for weapons and ship parts. he does not have a refined palette but he is picky once he finds something he really likes

09. How does your character feel about engaging in relationships—romantic and / or sexual—with others? What is their history like? Do they fall in love easily? Are they constantly in and out of relationships?

um WELL. he absolutely has no interest. there were a few people who have come onto him with sexual intent in the past. he indulged them but he has this incredible way of losing interest 2 minutes into whatever activity they start engaging in. he doesn’t develop feelings easily. he doesn’t like being that close to people because he’s allergic to the spectrum of human emotions and vulnerability. so it comes as a surprise any time someone develops a crush on him. he’s self aware enough to know he always disappoints those people when they realize his cool-guy-devil-may-care attitude is just him being a genuine asshole. 

10. What is your character’s pain tolerance like? Can they hold their own in a fight, despite injury? If someone hurts them with the aim of gaining information, how much can they take before they cave?

he’s not super smart but he is tough and stubborn. he learned early on that if he shows people he’s feeling the pain, they’ll think they got control over him. he’ll grit his teeth and bleed out from biting his tongue before he admits that anybody’s got the best of him.

11. What is your character’s weapon of choice? Are they more skilled as a melee fighter or do they have more skill with ranged weapons? What’s their fighting style like? What sort of training do they have behind them?

you know how krav maga’s philosophy is really based on instinct-based movements and using “weapons of opportunity” (if there is a lolipop nearby, he will stab you in the trachea with it) to attack your opponents? that’s how he fights. he’s scrappy and his “””instincts””” are pretty sharp. when you’re a pirate who isn’t given any weapons or even told where all the nearest exits are, you start getting creative so you don’t get your ass handed to you during a raid. he is skilled with blasters but he’s more of a friend-fire on type of person.

12. Does your character have any words or catchphrases that they say frequently? Tell us about how they picked them up.

he still says “crink” a lot which is the “fuck” equivalent for outer rim pirates. but don’t get him wrong he still says fuck a lot. he has a lot of stupid yet vulgar hutt imagery that he defaults to when he’s mad. like, “DEEPTHROAT A HUTT’S TAIL” or “choke on hutt slime.” there was a gunner back in his bounty guild who had a deep bias against hutts and vestir picked up on it. at first he thought it was just funny but now he can’t stop. so he played himself

13. Tell us about a negative experience your character has had with either the Jedi or the Sith, and how this has affected their standing. Whether currently aligned or unaligned with either faction, if forced to choose, how would they side?

well the sith empire withheld his pay a few times because he didn’t do a “good enough” job so he thinks they can deepthroat a hutt’s tail. a jedi once lectured him on his life’s choices. he generally just doesn’t like the jedis because he thinks they’re pompous and doesn’t get involved nearly as much even with their holier-than-thou attitudes. if he had to choose a side, he’d choose one that offers a longer life expectancy for himself

14. How would your character react to seeing a relative or friend on the opposing side of a battle or mission?

easy. they’re getting ONE warning shot so they can get a head start and then all bets are off. 

15. Describe a memory that your character finds embarrassing.

vestir and aerith were shipwrecked on a deserted area with nobody around for miles. the temperature dropped to frigid conditions. they made an executive decision to share a bed and huddle for warmth. vestir “never cuddled anybody” kano knee’d aerith in the ass. at some point he sneezed on the back of aerith’s neck.  

16. What goals does your character hold for themself and what steps have they taken towards achieving them? How far are they willing to go to reach them? What is their be-all and end-all?

he is always surprised that he’s able to live for another year. he has no long term goal. he has no idea what that is. he stays alive out of spite honestly. his captain told him he’d never live past 15 with that mouth of his so he never stopped mouthing off at everything since then. although there is a side of him that finds a certain sense of fulfillment from keeping his travel partner safe 

17. What is the one thing your character would change about their life if they were given the chance? What other lives could they have lived as a result?

CONTENT WARNING: human trafficking //// nothing. he feels like everything helped open his eyes to all the ugly truth under the gilded illusions he used to live in. his jaded outlook and “carefree” lifestyle gives him control of his life. also if it wasn’t him, it’d be some other kid. he knows he was hard headed enough to survive this life. he made himself useful and avoided being sold off at several points while he was with the crew. others may not be as fortunate.

18. Living in such a high-conflict time, how does your character feel about doing what they must to survive? Will they hurt or kill others—either directly or indirectly—to protect themselves and / or those close to them? If so, do they regret it when all is said and done?

No ragrets. he lowkey has stole someone’s bounty after they put in all the hardwork, which is a cardinal sin in bounty hunting. but he didn’t have a way to repair the engine and make sure aerith had enough food to last the upcoming long journey. he does what he has to. if he deems it necessary, he’ll do it

19. What is the biggest problem your character is currently dealing with?

finding aerith

20. Give us 3+ headcanons of any length or subject matter.

he cannot stand pets or animals in general. same with babies, really

surprisingly, he can dance. there’s literally nobody living who knows this fact though

every once in 120 years, all the moons of zelos ii are visible at once. he actually misses the moon festivals from his childhood

bonus. Give us a list of any length telling us why our “fave is problematic.”

stop playing we don’t have time for this. but to name a few:

he would pour milk first before the cereal

doesn’t know how to whistle

“i need a new gun” “there is no why” “I SAID I NEED A NEW GUN, AERITH” “I KNOW I HAVE PLENTY” “BECAUSE I LIKE THAT ONE”

will stop smiling if you look at him and remind him he’s showing an emotion

has made aerith cry

will sell you for a single cornchip and the pocket change in someone’s pockets

blames you for farting when it was literally his fault

does not want to better himself

pretends he was listening to you then interrupts you just to hit you with a “damn that’s crazy” 

that one time (plus 40 more times) where he ran off without his teammates during a gig

[ask-the-richmond-newsies]

Hello and welcome to my blog! I’d like to introduce you to the gang! 

*Disclaimer: I only follow a handful of newsies ask blogs, so if one of my characters has the same nickname as yours or any other similarities, it is merely a coincidence!

***Potential Triggers Warning! There are some death, abuse, alcoholism, racism, suicide, and attempted murder related trigger warnings in some of the backstories below***

—————– Newsie name: Chickadee Reason for name: She pretended to be a boy for the first six years because the lodging house only allowed boys to stay there. But the other newsies knew she was a girl. So, they named her Chickadee “‘cause she’s a chick.” But if anyone asked why, it was because “'he’ has a beautiful singing voice, like a bird.” Real name: Elizabeth Sanford Age: 16 Sexuality: Heterosexual Face Claim/Outfit: x Personality: fun-loving, scrappy, sarcastic, guarded, flirtatious, loyal, compassionate, will do what it takes to survive, has trust issues, and is still dealing with a great amount of grief  Hobbies: whittling, flirting, singing, and watching sunrises  Background: Her mother died in childbirth along with the baby when she was four. Her father died in an accident at the lumber mill where he worked when she was six. Her older brother Sal was all she had left. He got them both jobs as newsies so that he could keep an eye on her and so she didn’t have to work at a factory like a lot of other little orphan girls. When she was thirteen, her brother got a well-paying job and was going to move them into a small apartment and send her to school, but he caught pneumonia before he could. His death all but destroyed her. She became shut off and never let anyone help her. She never truly dealt with her grief. Shortly after his death, she left Richmond and began selling papes in other boroughs, never staying anywhere for too long. She learned how to survive on her own and convinced herself that she’s better off that way. She did, however, run into her old friends at the strike rally after not seeing them for about three years and will now occasionally visit the newsboys of Richmond.

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Newsie name: Fox Reason for name: he is sly and quick-witted like a fox Real name: Finley O'Connor Age: 17 Sexuality: Bisexual Face Claim/Outfit: x Personality: confident, ambitious, sneaky, smart, determined, understanding, strategic, protective, flirty, and has issues with the concept of love   Hobbies: flirting, poker, pulling pranks, and making out. He is the leader of the newsies.  Background: When he was 7 years old, his parents and him immigrated to New York from Ireland. When he was 8 his mother was killed in a hate-crime. About a month later his grief-stricken father killed himself. When he came home from school that day, a neighbor told him what had happened and took him in for a little while. He soon thereafter found himself amongst the newsies. He was angry and confused and he hated that his father basically abandoned him. He doesn’t like the concept of love because he blames the love his father had for his mother for destroying what was left of his family. In his mind, being Irish made him motherless, but love made him an orphan. 

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Newsie name: Duke Reason for name: he’s always getting into fights and is always ready to duke it out Real name: Daniel Carleton  Age: 16 Sexuality: Heterosexual Face Claim/Outfit: x Personality: angry, insecure, sarcastic, always on the defensive, doesn’t know how to express himself, has a short temper, fiercely protective of those he loves Hobbies: boxing, darts, and gardening Background: He was the bastard son of a single mother who hated him. She always blamed him for her life of destitution. She verbally abused him for years and sometimes even locked him in a closet for hours when she “needed some me time” and didn’t want to deal with him. Her words always stayed with him which is way he’s always so quick to assume the worst in everybody. He eventually just had enough and ran away and became a newsie. He sometimes struggles with the guilt of leaving her to fend for herself but remembers that he had to do what was best for himself and get out.

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Newsie name: James Reason for name: He doesn’t like nicknames, he prefers “the name his parents gave him” (If he would have allowed a nickname, his friends would have called him Strings) Real name: James Emerson Age: 17 Sexuality: Bisexual Face Claim/Outfit: x Personality: quiet, observant, judgmental, soft spoken, has a dry humor, thinks he’s more mature than he actually is, pretentious, bitter, actually kind of a romantic  Hobbies: playing his old, beat-up violin, composing, people watching, reciting Shakespeare   Background: He grew up in one of the richest families in Richmond and was given the best of everything. When his parents died in a boating accident when he was 14, he found out that the family’s financial adviser had been embezzling money from them for years, leaving his inheritance as practically nothing. He turned to family friends for support and comfort but once thy found out he had no money left, they turned their backs on him. Everything in his parents estate had to be sold and auctioned off to cover any remaining expenses or debts. Alone and destitute, he then joined the newsies to cover his cost of living.

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Newsie name: Sniffer Reason for name: he’s “part bloodhound” and can find anything Real name: “Gabriel” (( In modern au it’s Gabriel Hernandez))  Age: 16 Sexuality: Pan-romantic asexual Face Claim/Outfit: x Personality: straightforward but not always forthcoming, he’s always honest but he doesn’t always tell you everything, he knows everything about everything, he always “knows a guy”, is a bit of a gossip, good at reading people, a realist, kind hearted but in a more subtle way, was raised Catholic but isn’t very religious anymore   Hobbies: locating and procuring rare or desired items, poker, solving puzzles and riddles, helping others Background: When he was a baby, he was abandoned at a church-run orphanage. He was raised by the nuns and given the name Gabriel. He has no idea what his real name is or if he was even given one. When he was about ten, the orphanage burned down (with no injuries) and all the children had to be sent to other orphanages throughout the city. He didn’t want to go to another one, so he left and joined the newsies. The orphanage has since been rebuilt and he still sees the nuns whenever they feed the newsies or when he comes in for weekly confession.

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Newsie name: Monty Reason for name: n/a Real name: Montgomery Ellis  Age: 17 Sexuality: Heterosexual Face Claim/Outfit: x Personality: laid back, funny, happy go lucky, will pretty much do anything on a dare/bet, has a big heart, and just like to have fun  Hobbies: knitting, cooking, playing chess, playing with kids  Background: He was raised by his great aunt Petunia after his father died from a lung infection and his mother died of influenza a few years after that. When his aunt got too old, she moved into an elderly retirement community. The only catch was that he was not allowed to live with her there. So, he got a job as a newsie and lives at the lodging house. He goes to visit her every Sunday afternoon.

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Newsie name: Mouth Reason for name: He never shuts up Real name: Isaiah Greenwood  Age: 15 Sexuality: Questioning Face Claim/Outfit: x Personality: loud, obnoxious, eccentric, reckless, competitive, sweet, aimless and a little self conscious   Hobbies: playing marbles, playing horseshoes, playing checkers, basket weaving, and eating  Background: He grew up on a farm outside of the city with fourteen brothers and sisters. When he felt he was old enough, he moved to the city and got a job to send money back to his family, like his older siblings had before him. He goes back to visit about once a month.

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Newsie name: Pockets Reason for name: If he likes something he will stick it in his pocket and take it home, usually innocent stuff like bottle caps and seashells, sometimes small trinkets from shops Real name: Randal Davis  Age: 14 Sexuality: Bicurious Face Claim/Outfit: x Personality: gets distracted easily, doesn’t think things through, likes shiny things, a little selfish, and sometimes self conscious and a little prone to anxiety   Hobbies: collecting things, occasionally stealing, playing marbles, playing checkers, and playing with his kitten Amelia aka Patches   Background: When he was younger his mom got really sick and they couldn’t afford her treatment. So, in desperation, his father tried to rob a bank in an attempt to save her life. Unfortunately, he was caught and is currently serving 10 to 12 in the pen. The judge, however, was very merciful and took pity and allowed him a supervised visit to his wife before she died. Pockets has been in the care of the newsies ever since. He gets to visit his dad in prison every couple of months. He got caught stealing himself about four months before the strike and got sent to the Refuge. He stayed there until Governor Roosevelt shut it down and freed him. He still occasionally gets nightmares about it.

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Newsie name: Poe Reason for name: he’s a writer and a poet like “that Edgar Allen Poe guy” Real name: Andrew “Andy” Reid  Age: 15 Sexuality: Heterosexual Face Claim/Outfit: x Personality: sensitive, quiet, shy, kind, very creative and quick witted, can be quite sassy, a true romantic at heart Hobbies: writing, reading, playing with every dog that walks by, sewing, and secretly dancing Background: His father died from an unknown illness when was a toddler and he was raised by his loving mother. She had a very kind heart and a love for stories. She would read to him every night and allowed for his imagination to flourish. She worked as a seamstress and would often take him to sit in the back room of the dress shop as she worked. He learned how to sew while he was there, but most of the time he would sit and read. There was nothing particularly special about his time spent there, but looking back it was some of his favorite times spent with his mother. She eventually took ill and succumbed to the illness. He became homeless for a couple of months afterwards, but was soon found by one of the newsies and taken in by his new family.

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Newsie name: Stars Reason for name: he “has stars in his eyes” Real name: Michael Lee Age: 14 Sexuality: Pansexual Face Claim/Outfit: x Personality: naïve, idealistic, foolish, optimistic, adventurous, always up for learning new things, believes you should live every day to the fullest Hobbies: reading, playing chess, bird watching, and exploring new places  Background: His parents died of consumption when he was a baby and he was raised by his grandmother. He dropped out of school and became a Newsie to support them after she had a stroke. She died a few months later and he stayed a newsie. He always wished he could go back to school. And he also wishes that he had stayed more in touch with his heritage after she died.

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Newsie name: Skunk Reason for name: he’s smelly Real name: Richie Mason Age: 12 Sexuality: Too young to be determined Face Claim/Outfit: x Personality: hyper, messy, excitable, slightly gullible, and can sleep anywhere   Hobbies: playing pretend, chasing frogs and ducks, playing in mud, playing tag,  Background: When he was six years old, his parents died in a factory fire along with his uncle and aunt. Him and his cousin, Robbie, were sent to live with their grandfather, who died about three years later due to old age. They soon found themselves living amongst the newsies, who treated them like little brothers and are raising them as their own. 

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Newsie name: Squeaks Reason for name: He’s very ticklish and if you tickle him or poke him in the sides he’ll let out a loud squeak Real name: Robbie Mason Age: 10 Sexuality: Too young to be determined Face Claim/Outfit: x Personality: adventures, curious, a little sarcastic, brave Hobbies: playing pirates, hiding in small spaces, climbing trees, playing tag Background: When he was four years old, his parents died in a factory fire along with his aunt and uncle. Him and his cousin, Richie, were sent to live with their grandfather, who died about three years later due to old age. They soon found themselves living amongst the newsies, who treated them like little brothers and are raising them as their own.

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Newsie name: Gills Reason for name: he practically lives in the ocean, can hold his breath for up to four minutes, and he can drink like a fish Real name: Jonathan Evans Age: 16 Sexuality: Pansexual Face Claim/Outfit: x Personality: confident, kind, competitive, enjoys the little things in life, kind hearted, protective, thick skinned   Hobbies: swimming, jogging, fishing, poker Background: When he was fairly young, his mother walked out on his father and him. His father did the best he could to raise him on his own. He worked two jobs, barely making enough to feed them both, all while hiding the struggling from his son. He didn’t have a lot of time to spend with him, but when he did, he usually took him down to the beach where they could do fun activities for free. When he was about twelve his father died of a heart attack, leading to him joining the newsies.

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Newsie name: Dixie Reason for name: She comes from the Deep South below the Mason-Dixon Line and is from the Alabama, aka the Heart of Dixie  Real name: Darla Dickson Age: 16 Sexuality: Heterosexual Face Claim/Outfit: x Personality: Sweet, hopeful, creative, and strong in her beliefs  Hobbies: hike, fish, sew, sing, dance, play guitar, and used to go horseback riding Background: When she was still living in Alabama with her family, she had been secretly dating one of the boys who worked at the stables that her family kept their horse in. His name was Theodore and he was the sweetest thing. They dated in secret because he was a black boy in the deeply racist 19th century south. Her family owned slave lest than forty years prior, so she knew they would never approve. They kept telling themselves that nothing could happen between them because it was too dangerous, but their love for each other grew and they couldn’t stay away. So they kept their affair a secret for several months until her little sister saw her sneaking out one night and followed her. She caught her sister spying and made her swear never to tell. But the next day her little sister came to her crying and apologize profusely for accidentally telling. Dixie raced to the stables to find her father beating the crap out of Teddy and when she tried to stop him, he knocked her out with a single blow. When she came to, he was in the process of trying to hang Teddy in a nearby tree. She quickly found a shovel and knocked her father out. She helped Teddy out of the rope and stole the family horse. She rode with Teddy as far north as she could before stopping to find a doctor. She traded the horse for his services and when Teddy was almost fully recovered they hitched a ride in a wagon even further north. They then made a life with each other in a small apartment doing odd jobs. But neither one of them fully dealt with the horrors of that day and there was a great divide between them. Eventually, along with other smaller issues, they decided that they couldn’t do this anymore. As much as they tried, they couldn’t look at each other without seeing the scene replay in their heads. So they sat down and said their goodbyes. They promised that they would always love each other in some way and that they would keep in touch. Teddy moved to a small northern farming town and Dixie moved to Richmond where she became a newsie.  

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Former Newsies

Newsie name: Tommy Reason for name: n/a Real name: Thomas Russo Age: 22 Sexuality: Bisexual Face Claim/Outfit: x Personality: strong, confident, knows how to have a good time, knows when it’s time to be serious, funny, sweet, comforting, romantic, a proud Italian   Hobbies: poker, playing pranks, dancing, cooking Background: He never knew what happened to his mother; it had always just been his dad and him. Most days he felt like he and his father reversed roles, as he was always taking care of his alcoholic father. He became a newsie at a young age as he had to provide for the both of them, his father being unable to work. He’d sell newspapers every morning and then every afternoon he would pick his father up at the pub and attempt to get him home without a fight. He grew tired of this way of living and was almost relieved every time his father went to jail (for various crimes). Through the years he rose up in rank until he became the leader of the Richmond newsies, a feat he was justly proud of. He has had less and less contact with his father throughout the years, he much prefers to focus on his true family, the newsies. After “retiring” from selling, he moved to Manhattan and began working at a bank and fell in love with a colleague’s daughter, who he is now engaged to.

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***He is not available to interact with, but I think it’s important that you get to know him because he was a big part of everyone’s lives.***

Newsie name: Ticker Reason for name: he carried around a pocket watch that ticked very loudly Real name: Sal Sanford Age: 19 at time of death Sexuality: Aromantic Asexual Face Claim/Outfit: x Personality: protective, intelligent, compassionate, valued honesty and integrity, stubborn, made terrible dad jokes, good with kids, got frustrated easily (mostly at inanimate objects that wouldn’t cooperate)  Hobbies: reading, going on walks, chess, playing with and reading to the younger kids, Background: His mother died in childbirth along with the baby when he was ten. His father died in a lumber mill accident when he was twelve. All he had left was his little sister Lizzie, who he was now responsible for. He got them both jobs as newsies so that he could keep an eye on her and so she didn’t have to work at a factory like other little orphan girls. The last thing he wanted was for her to get hurt or worse like their father did. As they grew up, he strived to give her the most normal childhood that he could. He was both parent and teacher to her as well as brother. He adored her and would do anything to make sure she was strong, healthy, and happy. When he was 19, he got a well-paying job and was going to get them a small apartment and would finally be able to send her to school. Knowing that there was a better life ahead of them, he had been the happiest he had been in a long time. His dreams for the future were dashed, however, when he caught pneumonia and died surrounded by his loved ones.

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Others 

Name: Emily Chapman Age: 22 Sexuality: Heterosexual Face Claim/Outfit: x Personality: Background:  

Name: Caroline Chapman Age: 16 (almost 17) Sexuality: Bicurious Face Claim/Outfit: x Personality:  Background:  

Name: Hunter Andrews Age: 18 Sexuality: Heterosexual Face Claim/Outfit:Outfit: Personality: Background:  

Name: Emma Andrews Age: 18 Sexuality: Heterosexual Face Claim/Outfit:Outfit: Personality: Background:  

Name: Elijah “Eli” Greenwood Age: 16 Sexuality: Questioning Face Claim/Outfit:Outfit: Personality: Background:  

Name: Collette “Clover” Charron  Age: 6 Sexuality: Too young to be determined Face Claim/Outfit:Outfit: Personality: Background:  

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Extras

Mr. Albertson -aka Big Al, newspaper distribution person

The Terrible Trio - The Trio for short, consists of Clive Parker, Edmund Williams, and Antoine Edwards; entitled rich boys who like to dick with people for fun

Old Man Reggie - lodge house owner, very old, has thick glasses, is practically blind, can pretty much get anything by him; didn’t use to allow girls to live at the lodge, but changed his mind once he caught on that Chickadee was a girl and was already living there for years

Ms. Merriwhether - the local librarian, a very sweet old lady who is fond of Poe, one of her favorite bookworms

This post will be updated as the characters develop further through their interactions with you. :)

First Update: May 12th, 2018 (one year anniversary!)  

[innervoiceartblog]

GETTING LEAPT: GODS HIDE IN ROUGH PLACES (rain spattered notes from journal)

"All human life on earth would change if we navigated our journeys deity to deity, not grid direction, zip code or sat nav." *** Ok, there's something of a hallucinatory grind to this isn't there? I appreciate it's hardly jail time, but it does work on us none the less. A fulsome pint of Guinness, eccentric friends and a pub garden have taken on an Eden like quality of imagining. It may be I have wandered the moor a little (and not been within 150 yards of a soul). It may be I have been stalking a hare. In the very early morning I got to old Crockern Tor and made libations for those near and far. All our kids got an extra slash of Lagavulin on the granite, and now feel much better about everything. The Moors: Mewy country, Plymn country, Yealm country, solitary Erme country, Avon country, Swincombe country, Blacka Brook country, Cowsic country, West Dart country, East Dart country, Double Dart country, the South-East desolate, the Eastern Highlands, West Webburn country, East Webburn country, Ashburn country, Lemon country, Bovey country, South Teign country, North Teign country, Taw country, East Ockment country, West Ockment country, Lyd country, Tavy country, Waltham country, and the wildest, roughest-glory country of all: Metheral brook, Maish Hill brook, Great Mire stream, Cheriton Coombe water. Before all of that naming there would have been a goddess at at every turn of the river, every beat of a fishing pool, and our very survival was learning the particular libations of the particular denizen. You gulp Ockment water, you better know the holy tit from which it so lovingly pours. Big Thoughts Of The Day : * All human life on earth would change if we navigated our journeys deity to deity, not grid direction, zip code or sat nav. So, the old names of places. * In some of these naming's, all crushed and upside down, are the gods, calling to get out. Crack the egg of a place-name, free the yoke of its power. I chivvy my processional of words out to the dingly danger of Hangershiel Rock, Dreshelcum, Braitor, Vurtor, Lether, Braitor. Who picked over you to lovingly score your dirt with these pungent names? At the end of pre-history the high moor got empty of people, changes in weather made crop growing impossible, and it became the kingdom of wolf, osprey, pole cat, badger, fox, adder, pine marten, boar, lynx, white-tailed eagle, a flood of wild ponies. When did these names crawl into use? Were they muttered in the old Celtic forts, before the roofs became mulch, lodge poles rotted, and children no longer collected water from our streams? Before the relentless rain and bleak cold swathed the moor, before the great eviction, was a word or two collected, to make a sound-house for a Goddess? A resting hut? I suspect not say the linguists. But some hid Celtic Goddess’s from the Saxons in their jaw. I know they did. The deities crawled up all fragrenty into our mouth and we nodded and say nothing of the paradise between our teeth. * Every story I’ve ever told is done to keep her company. True fact. LEAP OR HOP? Artists are waiting to Get Leapt. When Dermot was placed under magical bonds to elope with Grainne, he became Hare when he leapt the walls of the compound. He knew the ground he launched himself from, but where he would land he could not tell. He leapt a hero, and landed an outlaw. Every island Odysseus came to was a leap; in consciousness, character, substance. And he needed hare-tongue to twist and turn his way through whatever he may encounter. He bragged once to blinded cyclops and that did him damage for years. He rarely blurted after that. He learnt to go from somebody to nobody. Hare knows about that kind of camouflage. So us, here today, in lockdown. Are we going to leap, or are we going to hop? Culture is being forced to leap at this moment, but we run grievous risk of a rabbit hop back to safety not a hare leap into the deeper life. But in the quiet, restless now, some are glimpsing the fires of Ithaca, maybe for the first time. They are going to need sea legs, old captains, scrappy maps and strange intent. HARE: THE FELLOW IN THE RAIN He’s not a bridge, not a guarantee, but a collapsing ladder, a scalding pan, something brilliant you heard and eternally misquote. She places her paw on your pen as you think up your spiritual franchise and scats on the publishing contract. He waits patiently for his master in the shadows of Gethsemane, and was the first out of Eden with a tinny and toothbrush. Those big teeth you see. Hare understands his prescribed ordainment in the witty fever of life, she knows her gig, delights in his obscuration, changes the story, the record, the mantra, his name. I swear Hare is in the hay at Bethlehem silent knyghting the whole thing from somewhere back in the stable. In her calm, weird eyes, she looks at the baby born in the glow of animals and knows peace. Don’t ever say her naturalness is not beautiful to him, don’t even try it. Hare officially approves this message. If we chivvy open the coffin of half our heroes we’re going to find Hares. HARE I seen you nibble on seaweed and conifer leaves, lie still like a sun-browned plank all afternoon in the meadow, yet would not be dragged by your ears into a field sullied by rabbits. People say you are cold, but I heard the shriek as the kestrel hovered over your babies. The hawk will always win - so swift in bashing air - but I saw you punch one sideways as it lifted your wriggling kin. I seen you box to your death, skull caved and spit-chewed, upright and moon-drunk as the bigger bastard kills you but can’t murder your spirit. Can’t be done, to kill the spirit of the hare. I seen three Welsh farmers stuff the barrels of their guns with the root Black Bryony and still you stay stock as the air trilled with the deadly twigs. Not one hit you, just withered like their cocks as you showed them pandemonium. It’s not cold to fight like that, not cold at all. ~ Copyright Martin Shaw 2020 www.cistamystica.com A shout out to Rima and Tom at Hedgespoken books, Deja Hu and James Murray-White and Karis Petty holding a virtual, rocking Into The Wild Festival this weekend, Alisa Esposito at Sparkroot Farm planting many good things, Carla Stang over at Imaginal Futures, and the literally THOUSANDS of you showing up with your most dastardly, wayward, brilliant selves at this moment of magnitude. Only good things to you.