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Sidebar by Brook (never look back.) of RCR, RGU, & Blank Pages
Sixteen. It seems like Iíve been sixteen for a longgg time.
Blah. Cove, Remus, Kingsley, Parker, Dem.
ther o l e THEBASICS
Theodore Geoffrey Tonks ďQuite a long name for street scum, eh? Well, itís not like I got it from my dear mumís own creativity. She really fancied my pa, apparently. Oh yeah, true love and kisses was all they were. Anyway, thatís where my middle name and last came about from. My first was from my granpa, mumís side. He sounds like an alright bloke, from what Iíve been told, but he died when I was awful young. Never truly met the fella.Ē
canon or original
ďKeep it to Ted, yeah? I mean, if you think weíre really jolly and what, sure, Teddy, itís no difference to me. Tonks, now, thatís like if you wanna be an arse, or some prick, or somethin. Tedís the way to go.Ē
May 30th, 1960
ďLast year in this placeÖdonít know where Iíll be left when itís over.Ē
ďIíma muggleborn in Ďní out. All about magic was just a bunch of rubbish to me at first. It was a rough time telling my mates where I was going, course itís not like my mum could or would send me to board somewhere. In the end, I had to settle with sayin the grandparents were brassed off with how I was bein raised and decided to do somethin about it. I act like any other muggle when I go home again, too, not much else I can do. Iíll likely stay in the wizarding world, though, if I can help it. Itís like bein a new person, ya know?Ē
ďEh? Well, Iím pretty partial to ladies. Real partial. Yeah, theyíre nice. But, hold up, there was this one time. Crazy party, ya hear? And my mate was lookin real nice to me, I donít know how to explain it really, I was real far gone. Actually, itís easy to explain; a little toss and tumble went on, nothing extreme, okay? Well, once we sobered up it was shit awkward, and Iíve never really been tempted again, soÖahh, bollocks, I give up talking about this; Iím straight.Ē
inside ando u t PHYSICAL
RUGGED ANGULAR FAIR
Physically, Ted is not a bit soft. His body is hard and lean, a little too lean, probably, his face is sharp and angled, his cheek-boned high, his Adamís apple juts out noticeably from his skinny neck, his eyes rather narrow, and his limbs on the bony side. He is tall, true, but his leanness makes him appear even taller than his actual height at 6í0Ē. He also looks older than seventeen, probably closer to twenty. Ted is no teddy bear (BAHA), but at least one thing about him is gentle and delicate, and thatís his lips. Compared to the rest of him, his lips can seem out of place. Theyíre too nice for a boy like him, heís been told. They are very well-shaped and very controlled, as if genetics took special care in forming his lips. The top lip is creased right in the middle, the bottom full and smooth, completely proportional. In the corners there is a natural upturn, not a straight line but more like a rounded indent. As for color, they are just like most other lips. They range from pale pink to deeper, redder pink, but most often they are a carnation pink, right between the two extremes. His lips are probably something to be proud of, yet he doesnít care much about them.
Behind his ďbeautifulĒ lips are teeth that are far less perfect. Theyíre white enough, but not entirely straight, and a bit on the pointy side. They arenít drastic enough to need any fixing, and itís not as if theyíre sharp, but both characteristics are just strong enough to be noticeable. This doesnít keep him from smiling, because, really, he doesnít think about his slightly imperfect teeth when he feels like smiling. When he does smile, creases form on either side of his mouth, thick lines but not dimples. These creases donít leave their mark, however, and when he isnít smiling theyíre nowhere to be seen. His chin is nothing special, not pointy or with a dimple or fat or impossible small. Itís just kind of there, extending about an inch to an inch and a half past his mouth and smooth along the bottom. Even if Ted is soft, his angles are often smooth, since a jagged face without reason would just be strange.
Tedís nose is rather slim and long, especially the bridge of it, and then average towards the bottom. His cheekbones are very defined and high. They noticeable create a small hallow to his cheek, which are very smooth and lean, not a bit pudgy. His hairline is a bit high, and his forehead rather broad and high as well. It takes up about a third of his head, but his hair often makes up for it. The skin on his face is clung a little tight to the bones underneath, and when he clenches his jaw his cheeks flex very noticeably. His temple also indents even when his face is relaxed. His jaw line, like his cheekbones and forehead, is defined and prominent as well. The acute drop from his face to his neck is one of the boniest parts of him, where one could probably pinch his jaw without difficulty if they tried, since his neck is slim as well. Actually, his neck is very slender, and very long. His Adamís apple protrudes so noticeably from his neck, especially when his profile is looked at. People have even commented on him before, and itís probably mildly dangerous to have one that juts out so far. His neck is probably a little too skinny, even if wasnít so long, but thatís how his whole body seems to be, doesnít it?
His eyebrows are one thing that isnít very clearly shaped. They are far from wild, of course, but they have very little arch. They arenít thick or thin, but rather in the middle, and they are a dark dirty blonde. Ted almost never has really short hair if he can help it. Itís often messy and uneven, and itís a dark, dirty blonde almost as dark as his eyebrows. More recently, he wears it slightly longer in the front, covering his forehead and giving him some room to mess withÖmore like push it out of the way. He doesnít style it, normally, just combs it and goes. Itís long enough to fall in front of his eyes if he lets it, yet itís about the same length all around, meaning he doesnít have excess on his neck. Normally, he only has it half over his eyes or he brushes it away. Tedís eyes can easily be mistaken for grey or hazel, but they are definitely blue. They are kind of a steel-blue, darker and richer in color than crystal blue eyes. However, as with almost all eyes, their tones vary greatly with lighting, outfit, and distance. Close up, they are a solid blue, evenly colored and bright cerulean. His eyes are more rounded along the top and flat along the bottom. They normally donít squint when he laughs and smiles, and when they do itís a very moderate narrowing. He has a wrinkle under each of his eyes that give them an adorable sort of look, since it softens them immensely.
Unsurprisingly, Ted has long and slender arms, legs, hands, and feet. His hands are tough and very steady (although not always), and his knuckles are very pronounced. Like much of him, it looks like his bones are almost too much for the meat on them, giving them a slightly gangly appearance, but the way he moves them would never perpetuate that. His fingers are not unnaturally long, but thankfully more normal than some of his, but his hands and forearms are a bit sinewy. His arms are very long, extending to his mid-thigh. They are slightly toned, although a little small width wise, and he has a bulge of bicep and hard forearms. His feet, thankfully, are not unnaturally large, and his legs are probably the longest thing about him. They are more notably long than his arms, and they give him much of his 6í0Ē height. They have more muscle than the rest of him, and are very well-toned. He didnít participate in sports or work out at all for them, but he never had the kind of lifestyle where he just sat around, and eating a lot was not always an option, so his legs along with the rest of him got a good steady workout throughout his life.
Tedís upper body is very hard and muscled, although from thinness and not from a lot of muscle. He doesnít exactly have a six pack or any other pack, but he does have some structure going for him. His stomach is flat and tapers into his hips with a classic V. His hips are cleanly cut and jut out just right; sometimes theyíre even exposed at the top of his pants a little. They arenít bulky and wide, but rather narrow instead, but not too much so. His collarbones are just as visible, and his shoulders are not narrow, and the main part where his arms meet chest is a bit small. They arenít square-like, but a little less sharp than that, and he doesnít hold them in a macho stance. They are usually rather loose and a little relaxed. His skin is overall pale, but not the glowy kind of pale, just the pale kind. His skin is very smooth and even, not blotchy, and itís surprisingly soft, especially on his arms and stomach.
The smoothness of his skin is interrupted by several scars from many times throughout his brief life. Most importantly, as in noticeably, are the ones on his back. Ted had (and probably still has) a thing for going into moshpits shirtless. One particularly rowdy show, he was knocked out and thrown on his back, right on some stray rocks and broken glass. It was a wonder that the cuts didnít become infected, too, because itís not like the cuts were clean at first; it was a pretty dirty place. Another scar is on his right arm on his inner bicep. That one really wasnít his fault; he simply slipped a few years back while crawling over a pile of junk and his arm scraped against some protruding wood. A small scar remains on his eyebrow from when he had an eyebrow piercing, but he took it out in sixth year. In the past, his ears and lip has been pierced as well, but currently he doesnít have any metal on his face. Ted has a few small tattoos, since he has is waiting to get a bigger one until he has the money and the right vision for it. He has one on the inside of his right wrist and one on his left shoulder blade. The one on his wrist he regrets and will probably get it covered at some point, but not until heís sure. Itís a British flag on fire with the trademark anarchy symbol, the capital A in a circle, printed overtop, and more solid than the flag beneath it. Itís only about four square inches, so it isnít that big of a deal, but he feels like it isnít really something he believes that to him the symbolism is a little empty. The one on his shoulder, on the other hand, he got in his sixth year and although itís much more abstract, he actually likes it. Itís just a swirl of all different colors, dripping and jagged strokes at the edges, and looks exactly like it has been painted. Thatís much more his style these days.
For his thinness, he could appear frail, but he really doesnít at all. He carries himself with something that isnít quite confidence, but it is far from timidity. It could be called comfort. Yes, he is comfortable with his body, and it shows. He can sit still when needed, but he prefers to be moving. If he is given something to hold, it might not be the best idea in the end, because he will be very tempted to play with it and toss it around while talking to them, without even realizing it. He doesnít have the best posture, but he naturally isnít big on slumping. Ted doesnít smile in excess, but he rarely looks sour, although his face can easily look stern at times. When heís concerned or thinking deeply, it takes on a rather tense look, where his eyebrows furrow and his jaw clenches, making it more prominent than it already it.
Tedís slim, sharp features are not the origin of his overall roughness; his style of dress if mainly what highlights them. He still clings to and displays his 1970ís inner-London punk passion. Compared to some of his comrades, Tedís style is a very watered down version. However, at Hogwarts it can be a taste of shock to the wizarding kids who donít know the ways of muggle teens (but Ted still saw some of the influences of the outside world, naturally). Fifth year, probably his most hardcore, he had a red Mohawk, dyed magically, of course, so that he wouldnít have to spend money re-dying it. He couldnít count how many times he heard ďWhat the bloody hell is that?Ē behind his back and to his face, although it usually just made him smirk. His clothes are almost always old and faded, with tears and holes and threading coming undone. A lot of them are purposely altered as well with words in marker, pins, or patches added. Paint has found its way unto the fabrics over the years as well, both spray and regular. Overall, he has a very tattered appearance.
The clothes he wears are usually not generic to begin with. ďLooking niceĒ is a concept almost completely lost to him. His pants are usually black, skinny, and tight with zippers, strings, pockets, or strange and misplaced seams, anything to interrupt the natural flow of the cut. If they arenít black pants, sometimes theyíre jeans of the same nature, and both have varying lengths, as some pairs were too badly ripped at some point and part of the lower legs had to be hacked off. On the occasion that he wears shorts (real shorts, not cut off pants), theyíre usually similar to cargo shorts, with a very loose form and messy lines. Some of his clothes, the brighter ones or patterned ones are from Wolfgang (see history), since their wardrobes intermixed so much during their friendship that they both forgot who bought or found what. Among these garments are plaid, a lot of dark red, some teal blue, and dark green.
As for shoes, he has one pair on average that he ends up wearing all the time. Itís always been that way, wearing one pair until they couldnít even be held together with magic or tape. Sometimes heíd have two pairs at once, but usually not. Generally they were black because having only one pair meant that they had to go with just about everything. Ted never dresses up, so black shoes, usually theyíre canvas converse-like shoes or some kind of skate shoe structure (which they didnít have a lot of skate shoes back then but I donít know what to call it). Nothing fancy, ever. His socks are usually the most normal and least ragged thing about him. Figures that theyíd be the nicest since theyíre seen the least often. His mom, for some reason, buys him socks every year, so thatís one thing he doesnít have to worry about. They usually match as well when he wears them, although other than that they arenít too exciting. The color scheme of them falls in neutrals and dark shades, such as navy, olive green, brown, and grey. At least theyíre one thing that he doesnít keep wearing for years.
Ted is not embarrassed to show his body. He isnít immodest and he doesnít go around half naked, yet at the same time he is rarely layered down. Sometimes his shirts ride up and sometimes there are large slashes that might make the average person a little self-conscious, but Ted hardly notices if his stomach or chest or thigh is showing. For this reason, his shirts are most often sleeveless, cut off or made that way. They arenít flashy things, either. Most often they have muggle bands, symbols/logos, or some other kind of graphic, yet just as often theyíre simply plain. They also arenít as tight as his pants, but they are far from loose, too. His skinniness is not drowned in oversized or even normal-sized clothes, but rather fitted snuggly with clothes that make him look even taller. He has a trademark jacket, as well. Itís black denim, worn so often that itís not stiff at all anymore, and the texture is really the only thing that fits the denim profile. Like the rest of his clothes, there are stains and tears in it, but they add to the ďculturedĒ look of it. Naturally, there are decorations as well, such as pins and patches (his favorite ones), and then his own additions. Lyrics and mottos of underground bands cover the inside, where the material is of a light grey. In the center back of the jacket is an adornment of his own design, done by several spray cans and a careful plan. The only places he doesnít wear it are usually home, the Common Room, when he has to wear his robes, of course, and sometimes around the castle, but that isnít a guarantee that heíll be without it. In winter he doesnít wear any more than his jacket. He doesnít have anything more because he doesnít want anything more, because he could probably get a better jacket if he really, really wanted one, but heís more than content with his.
As for accessories, Ted wears them on days that he remembers and feels like it. Bracelets of seemingly random cloth, black bands, and other such things are often on his bony wrists, and sometimes stay there for a few days at a time. He has two belts that he wears a lot of the time, one red, which used to be a strap on one of his auntís bags, and one dark grey. Around his neck he used to wear heavy-ish chains and all around clunky jewelry, although many werenít even made to be jewelry. More recently, though, he has started to forgo that and only has one actual chain that he still wears, which is a medium sized link and a few random pendants. He has a pair of black gloves, fingerless because one of his friends gave them to him that way, but he only wears them when he goes out in winter, and they are lost more often than they are actually around. He never wears hats or scarves, and hasnít worn a winter jacket once in his life. When he goes to sleep, he rarely is wearing more than boxers. He doesnít ever sleep naked, though, because the chance of being caught like that is way too high. However, it doesnít seem like an entirely bad idea sometimesÖ
During school, of course, Ted has to leave behind his black pants and sleeveless shirts for his uniform. He hated it with a passion for many years, but around sixth he stopped caring about it all that much. He now wears it, but doesnít wear it well. His shirts are usually a few unbuttoned at the top, sometimes too many, and his tie is almost always messily done. He pushes the sleeves up, his pants are wrinkled, his robes open as often as possible, and like the rest of his clothes, his school uniform almost never new. He wears it until he canít anymore, and it often shows, although they are in a bit better shape than the rest of his clothes. Ted gets away without wearing uniform shoes because theyíre usually black anyway, and he simply tells them he canít afford extra shoes, and itís true. They stopped bothering him about it the first time he told them while blushing fiercely, even though it would no longer embarrass him.
Another noteworthy time clothing wise is when he paints. Ted usually dresses the same as always from the waist down, but his top is more bare than normal. He even passes over the sleeveless shirts for beaters, and half the time he wears no shirt at all. Ted usually has a white towel or shirt with him when he paints, either thrown over his shoulder or hanging on the corner of his canvas. He wipes excess paint on it, but sometimes it takes quite a while for him to realize that heís gotten some on himself, so naturally he has multiple stains at once. His chest and stomach are subject to at least a couple each time he paints, but his hands really are the worst. Not that heís complaining, because he actually really likes the blending of color on his hands. At any time, a glance at his hands will usually tell about his most recent project.
Even if Ted tried to pretend that heís from better upbringing, it would probably be impossible. His looks can be cleaned up, pretty easily if he ever tries, actually, but his voice will always give him away, and it might be so bad that heíll never be able to change it that much. His accent is very heavy; unmistakably heís a Londoner. He clips the end of words off often, and his pronunciation is usually not very clear, such as ďtoĒ is more like ďtuhĒ and ďmyselfĒ is more like ďmuhself.Ē On top of that, almost every sentence he speaks is riddled with slang, and more than once he has to repeat what he says two or three times and in different variations until people totally understand him. He has also been known to talk pretty quickly. His voice itself is on the deeper side, although itís not overwhelmingly manly. It can be rather loud at times, but only with reason, and even these reasons are rare. Generally itís in the medium range volume-wise, with great variation in pitch while he talks. In a way it can be almost chattery, but it really depends on the company and the topic. Mostly itís mellow and cheery. Heís completely capable of having a controlled, under the radar, quiet conversation, and if he really puts his mind to it he can eliminate a lot of his grammar errors and odd slang usage. Over the years he has steadily been getting better, showing hope that one day it might hardly be noticeable.
itĎs all about the stuff on thei n s i d e PERSONALITY
GENUINE SELF-RELIANT WAVERING
Punk music Food, especially home cooked The countryside Nighttime Hot drinks Quiet Fresh air Accomplishing things Hogwarts Most people Carefree feelings Silence Music loud enough to drown out thought Physical exertion Sincerity Mosh pits Pain, sometimes Sleeveless hoodies Old clothes Darker shades of color Neutrals Nicknames Certainty Graffiti Art Painting Getting paint on his hands and clothes Painting his ďemotions,Ē which is a lot less cutesy and lame it sounds
His parents His past His past self His defensiveness His strong reactions Judgment When snarky replies slip out and he doesnít mean them Hardcore partying Drugs, alcohol, smoking People who are downright mean Snobs Petty confrontation Gossip Being jaded Internal confusion Uncertainty Lying Feeling trapped Small spaces Temptation
Despite the harsh exterior, Ted has a Hufflepuff heart of gold. Heís very street smart. Will power. Heís extremely loyal. Heís very nonjudgmental, sympathetic, and understanding. He hardly ever takes anything the wrong way, isnít one to pick fights, and heís bigger than petty disagreements. He has a good eye for art. Maturity.
Heís a lot more sensitive than heíll ever let on. He hides most of his emotions, good and bad. He just canít let himself feel vulnerable. Trying to like himself. If he gets frustrated or really put off, heíll give up on something, because heíll feel like he canít do it even if he tried really hard. He has quite a bit of built up anger. His grammar is absolutely terrible. He doesnít know how to cook a thing, although not from lack of trying.
Biting his nails. He gets a half-sad, half-blank, half-convincing half-smile when something strikes home with him and he doesnít want to show it. Sometimes he can be quite angst-ridden and canít control it. He lets his emotions build up so much that he has to expel them in borderline extreme ways; mosh pits, art work done violently, and in the past, vandalizing things. He still smokes cigarettes when heís really upset, although he wishes he didnít.
ďUh, bugger, this sounds really bad, I knowÖbut, Iíve never shagged unless I got real pissed... That happened a number a times, I donítÖreally remember. Itís kinda sad, yeah? Before sixth year, there was just all kinds of shit messed up. Blimey, I canít even begin to tell it all. I donít really talk about it now. I used to be sloshed about five times a week back home, and thatís not all. I was into hard shit, a lot. I canít name something I havenít tried. I was a real tosser. I almost got thrown outta school in fifth year, but I guess Dumbledoreís a well man and gave me another go. I wouldnít say these are all big secrets, who dunít know at least the basics of Ďem? Theyíre just well dark enough that I wish they truly was secrets. I saw a bloke die this one time, then they hid Ďim cause he was wanted or somethiní. Didnít want the pigs to take Ďim instead, ya know? Never found out if he was buried properÖ Iíve never told why I started changiní Ďnd started tryin to clean myself up. Iím never going to forget, but I doní think most other people would understaní why it meant so much.
A green sea turtle. These turtles migrate great distances, mostly for the purpose of egg laying, which happens in such a short amount of time in comparison to their journey. Ted wishes he didnít give up to easily, and strives to have more determination. They can remain submerged underwater for hours at a time if theyíre sleeping, and only need to surface for one to three seconds. However, if they are engaged in vigorous activity they stay under for only five minutes or so.
A smattering of drugs and alcohol. More than anything; the temptation. He started down that road once, and even though he abandoned it once, he still canít be sure that itís permanent.
Woods, chicken soup, baking bread, fresh air, the smell of London
A simple fact of Ted is that he doesnít need anyone. He can take care of himself better than someone else ever has, and heís become pretty good at toughing out harsh environments. Put in a place much better than heís been before, and heíd probably be pretty baffled, but that isnít likely to happen, so in reality he is beyond self-sustaining. Yes, he can be entirely independent and he doesnít need help from anyone. However, thereís a different between needing and wanting. He isnít clingy, not even a bit, but he still likes and wants people around. He probably has fewer close friends than most people, but acquaintances and friendly relations are easy with him, if people give him a chance. He, unfortunately, can be emotionally guarded in letting people very close, but that doesnít mean itís something that he doesnít want. Ted likes most people until they give him a reason not to. He is not so kind that heíll like everyone no matter what, but he also tries not to judge prematurely. If he dislikes someone, thereís very often a good reason for it, not just because he feels like it.
Tedís worst enemy is himself. Thatís how it is in his eyes, anyway. He doesnít blame other people for his problems, at least not in general, but mostly just himself. He believes that almost everyone is in charge of their own destiny, their own reactions, and their own life. True, some factors can never be changed, but for almost everything else, if someone wants it changed they better fucking try at least. Heís not a big fan of complainers because of this, but he does often see validity in it. If they complain and plan on doing something about it but they just need to expel their feelings first, then he will be all ears. Ted usually doesnít complain, at most heíll let a bitter reference to his past slip out, but he usually doesnít elaborate. To get him to spill his guts takes questions and a certainty that one actually cares.
He doesnít judge because, face it; take a look at his past. He knows that inevitably people are going to get the wrong idea about him. He doesnít want to subject anyone else to that. Ted doesnít hold value in gossip. Tell him a rumor, and heíll listen at best. To say the least, heís completely disinterested in it. He doesnít think less of gossipers, either. Ted inherently thinks that most people have motivations for their actions and that even mean ones are triggered by something else. He doesnít always have sympathy if these actions damage someone else, but heís generally slow to condemn. Of course, some things are unforgiveable.
These qualities may make him seem like a pushover whoís too nice to people; and to some degree he is. However, he doesnít put effort into pleasing people. If they like him, great, but if they donít? Heís not going to try and change it. Maybe with time heíll try and get them to warm up to him, but only casually. He wonít make a big deal out of it or dislike you back. Heís not that concerned with how people think of him, because that would be like waging a never ending war. He thinks itís a better method to give people time to get to know him if heís really going to care how they feel about him. How many people actually affect his life? Really, not that many. Not enough to try to be popular or liked by everyone.
Social awkwardness plagues Ted at times, but far less than the average person. Of course some occasions call for him to be uncomfortable, since that happens to just about everyone, but instead of clamming up and stuttering and panicking, he usually just becomes detached or stops paying attention. However, heís not always the talkative type. This is not because of shyness, but rather just a quiet nature. If he doesnít have something to say, he probably wonít say very much. Ted is very good at remaining lighthearted about things that arenít serious. Heís not generally somber, although his moods have been known to plummet, and he doesnít like to be a cynic. Heís often realistic, not idealistic. He knows the difference between his wishes and the how reality will deal things out to him. Ted likes to look on the bright side, maybe put a little extra effort into getting what he wants, but he can accept defeat. He doesnít go to extremes for this reason, and heís not a sore loser, unless itís something that he cares very deeply about. These things usually donít need a fight, anyway.
Thereís a slight protective streak to Ted. Heís not exactly what youíd call Defender of the Innocent, but he wouldnít just leave them out to dry. Instead of confronting, he usually tries to comfort. However, if it happens in front of him, heís not likely to hold back. He might not retaliate physically, but heíll threaten, and he would always back that up if he has to. Ted hates to see people suffer and be taken advantage of. He completely lacks the knowledge or desire of manipulation, but he isnít easily manipulated, either. To be manipulated, one usually has to have an intense want that can be played upon. He doesnít particularly have a lot of these. Power and material things donít mean that much to him, at all.
Tedís favorite kinds of people are hard to define. He likes people who are genuine and arenít impossible to read, without double-intentions, but he also finds people interesting. A lot of the time, heís very amused by how hard people try to impress each other and the ridiculous way they act. He can find something he likes in just about anyone, even if theyíre nothing like him. He doesnít appreciate the extreme cases of any stereotype, such as snobs or know-it-alls or obnoxious to the point of disrespect, but only when the situation is serious. In jest, heís fine with most of these things. Very few conversations that arenít serious can make him uncomfortable. If he doesnít like someone, he usually just avoids them, and he usually hardly talks about them, either. He prefers to just block them out of his life, rather than let them get to him.
School wise, focus has not really been his strong point before. Heís an average student overall, above average in a few, and he does his work, goes to class, and studies a bit for exams. Heís not super dedicated, though, and he doesnít get very stressed out over his grades. He does the original requirement, and rarely goes above unless on a whim. While in class he used to sit in the back, not pay attention a bit, and ignore when the teachers tried to get him to participate. He had a very one-track mind, and school did not fall in his spectrum. He was almost held back his fifth year, but managed to pass his final exams, which allowed him to move on. His seventh year has been the best so far, and although some subjects are harder than others and concepts take a going over or two, he does pretty well for himself, showing that he isnít as dumb as heís been passed off as before.
As a friend, Ted is very loyal. He wonít ever badmouth someone behind their back, and heís also pretty good at keeping a secret. His normal conversations just donít lead to him doing either of these things. Heís up for spontaneity and hanging out at just about any time. Ted is pretty easy going with his friends and loves to help them out if they need it. Sometimes he can be slightly absent, with his mood swings and art, but most of the time it doesnít interfere with his socialization. He has a pretty good sense of humor and is great at taking jokes and being teased. However, he can seem a little selfish at times. This isnít intentional; sometimes itís just a reaction. He doesnít go to huge extents to really help other people out, but at the same time he doesnít know what kind of help they would really need from him of all people. He doesnít bend over backwards for other people, unless theyíre particularly important to him.
When it comes to romance, Ted is not very experienced. Physically, heís been there, but emotionally? Not really. Heís definitely not someone who constantly needs to be in a romantic situation. Heís not very shallow, but heís also on the picky side. Flings arenít really for him; he doesnít see the point in them. Well, in the past he had multiple ďgirlfriendsĒ back home, but nothing serious at all. He wouldnít cheat unless under extreme reasons, either. To be honest, he has before, but that was when he hung out with people who had never been loyal in any of their relationships. It didnít seem that wrong to him, especially since he had never been in love with anyone he dated. However, now itís not something he would do. He doesnít plan on dating unless itís someone he really likes, and then what would be the point of cheating? How heíll act in a real relationship is yet to be seen.
Ted partied the shit out of his body for years, but that didnít mean he was a vulgar boy even back then. Naturally, with his friends he was rowdier than usual, but he looked for a good time more than anything. Some partiers were out for destruction and spat contempt at everyone, but that was only Ted on occassions. He didnít mind those types, and in his ďgangsĒ over the years he was usually lurking behind them, maybe with a smirk. Sometimes, of course, he did become one of them more than usual. He said some harsh things to people over the years, and he does wish he could take them back. This still happens to him, but far less intentional than before. Before it was, honestly, because of peer pressure, because he felt like he should do it. Now, it can just be a reaction. If heís upset or stressed he can have a rather sharp tongue, but as soon as it comes out he regrets it and usually apologizes right away. On one hand, itís not that bad of a thing, because he usually loosens up immediately when he realizes that heís wound up enough to try and insult someone else.
Art is something that Ted has started to fill more and more of his life with after he cut out the partying way. He was twelve the first time he went tagging. The light cans in his hands, the bright colors they held, blank walls or dirty walls or ugly walls, and freedom of expression all contributed to this slight obsession. Of course, he started out small, spraying words or small pictures, usually crudely. But the longer he tagged, the longer it seemed to take him to finish one graphic, the more he thought and planned out colors, the more effort he put into it. Eventually, he would spend hours on one blend, most powerful during his peek punk days. At this time, most of his messages were of change, anarchy, the underdogs of London, pictures of the life he and many others his age lived, and so on. Sometimes they were just color. Sometimes they were ideal villages. Sometimes they were things he wished they all had, like a buffet of food. If they were painted over, he left a louder one in its place. These he usually sprayed with a touch of force, angrier than the last time, or he would be melancholy and slow, taking his time even more than usual.
Tedís reactions were never set in stone, often depending on a thousand factors at once. His art is the same way. From his heavy graffiti days, his subjects are very similar. They can be quite political, but desperately so, not snobbish and well-informed. Even though he has similar reasons and similar themes in several focuses, that still leaves an infinite amount of things he can put on a building or canvas. Life experience greatly influences him, more than anything. At Hogwarts, of course, he couldnít really go around tagging the castle or places in Hogsmeade (although, it happened once or twice, of courseÖ). Ted had to find an alternative. He tried drawing, but it wasnít really his thing. It wasnít satisfying enough in his opinion. It was just a line at a time, too delicate and just not the same. Painting was his next try, and again he struck gold. It took him a while to get the necessary materials, but soon enough thatís all he spent what little money he had on. Painting was even better than tagging. Paint on a canvas was more easily manipulated. He could get all the details he wanted, and the new color selection was phenomenal. Brighter shades or duller shades, oil or water color, anything to fit his goal and mood. Painting seemed to have no limit, and Ted was sick of feeling so many limits.
Ted still paints just like he tagged; things he knew, saw, and what he thoughts was right and wrong. Without knowing it, they really often are political statements. Itís how he grew up and itís the things they stayed with him, haunted sometimes. He doesnít mean to portray them in a light that will sway other people, he just paints how he feels towards them. He just wants people to know, but more importantly he wants it out of him. Scenes of inner-London, the wretched state and the crushed lives, the plight of the average poor British punk are undeniable constants. Social satire at its truest. His paintings are images of peace at times, too. Images of how things should be, images of quiet places. Everyone needs a little peace, but if he canít get his he just creates it. His mind has two main tracts during his art. One is tense and rapid thought, trying to grasp images and expel them through his fingers. The other is slow and tranquil, painting wisps of things as they float through his mind. Both lead to abstract outcomes, which can seem similar in nature but are very distinct in reality, and upon closer look it is easy to tell in an instant which state of mind he had while creating it.
He is inevitably bitter and resentful to his parents, since the beginning of his life was so damaged by the conditions they brought him up in, but as for his future, he knows thatís up to him. Thereís nothing they can do now to make it better, and it rests on his shoulders to not slip back and fuck up. Thatís Tedís greatest fear, is that heís going to give up and give in to his old ways. Heíll end up just like them, heíll stay at the bottom of the food chain, and heíll be worse than dead, because heíll have given up his struggle and heíll just be a haggard ghost. Heíll be gaunt and worthless. Heíll be another failed teen, drunk and high out of his mind all the time, with no true self, just driven by cravings. He was that way once, and he never wants to go back, or worse, give in completely and not even want to rise again. Lapsing even once terrifies him, because who knows what it could lead to. Ted doesnít trust himself with this, and is always on edge that it could happen at anytime.
His aunt on his motherís side and her five children, none of whom Ted is in real contact with.
Eviction notices, fights, broken heaters and windows, next door neighbors in few clothing with overly friendly smiles, alcohol, his sobbing mother, the chill of something isnít right, the freedom of the streets, the rage of music, lukewarm meals, discovery, independency, the meaninglessness of blood. Ted started out low, dipped lower and lower, and shot up again, but the rockiness of his life was destined from the beginning.
Lacey and Geoffrey dated for five months before they learned that Lacey was pregnant. They were part of similar crowds, and her friends led to his friends, and she to he. She was eighteen, he was twenty-one. They were not in love, they were not respectable, and they had no chance together. They were the pair that fucked in alley ways and movie theaters and she laughed too loudly and his eyes were always bloodshot. When he did go to work, he went to his uncleís dinner and waited tables. He disappeared during Laceyís pregnancy for a month, only to come back giddy to see her, as if nothing had gone wrong. He was constantly inconsistent like that and had mood swings that would interest a psychologist, and Lacey was no calm minded woman, either.
Laceyís parents were poor immigrants from Poland. They owned a small tailor shop and had to ask for extensions on their rent a few times a year. However, they survived all right in the part of the city that ate unsuspecting people alive from the inside out. They didnít know what to do about their daughter, who wanted nothing more than to marry a rich man and live luxuriously. Poor Lacey never even got close, but if she wanted enough poor men to measure up to a decent amount of money, then she was set.
Geoffreyís line had lived in London as far back as they could trace, and for that reason felt that the upper crust was ruining the city that was rightfully theirs. They detested the wealthy with their white scarves and gloves, the fences in front of their townhouses, and their shiny cars. What unnecessary people. They didnít know what life was really like.
After the birth of Theodore Geoffrey Tonks, the two only lasted for another year. They never married, and Geoffrey was the one to leave. At least he didnít kick them out of the apartment; Lacey would joke bitterly at times. His mother had several other boyfriends, none that Ted really liked, of course. Twice they lived with them when they didnít have anywhere else to go, but more often his motherís boyfriends would crash with them. All in all, Ted can recall living in ten different places before, but they were all very similar and in the same general area, so itís not like the moves were significant. He just hated the instability of it. His mother had a job about three-fourths of the time, but they never paid well. They were always some kind of grocery store, waitress, or cashier job. The places they lived were always in shitty condition, with pipes that went out all the time and uneven heating.
His mum had more personalities than Ted could recount in less than five minutes. An incomplete list would include; her faux-sickeningly sweet side, her raging temper that flared up at him often, the quiet, tired side, the melodramatic one, the guilt-ridden one, the selfish one, the temporarily empowered side, and the honestly hopeless Lacey. Her inconsistencies were a result of their lifestyle and a cause of it at the same time. When he was younger, seven or so, he truly loved her without question. But as he got older, he saw more and more of her instability and selfishness, and he started to drift so much that it was hardly like they were a family anymore. Sometimes, when his mother would be putting on one of her fake sides, whatever she would be holding would fall, or her chair would break beneath her, with Ted looking on in shock because he had just been hoping for a distraction that would make her stop. More than once her boyfriends would become extra clumsy as well.
ďYouíre so bothersome, Teddy. I canít deal with you right now. Out, come back later!Ē
He heard this more times than he could count, and he did honor her demand. By the time he was ten, Ted was already starting to spend less and less time at home. He went to muggle schoolÖsometimes. A lot of his time he spent stealing pops to sip with his fellow ruffian friends in abandoned apartment buildings. He would spend whole weeks away from home, staying anywhere that was quiet enough to sleep. A few of his friends came from similar backgrounds, and they were more like family than anything that had previously. They liked to break and tag things, and more than once they were chased by storeowners and security guards. Luckily, their way would often suddenly be blocked, and Ted and his friends would get away laughing. At the same time, it was almost all in innocent fun. They kicked around balls and rode bikes that they found lying around, usually returning them and sprinting away when the day was over. They played hide and seek in entire blocks, games that lasted for hours, but sometimes Ted would find them faster than anyone liked. They teamed up with older and younger boys for competitive entertainment. They snuck into movie theaters and fell asleep on rooftops. Of course, boyish innocence could only last for so long in such an environment before it turned sour. Ted was almost eleven the first time he tasted alcohol with the intention of consuming as much as possible. From here, it all went downhill.
When he turned eleven, Ted had no thoughts for the future. He was skinny and dirty and had a bad mouth, but it still clammed up when scolded. Adults still intimidated him. He got his letter the same as all other magical children, but it confused the hell out of him, of course. He ignored it for a little while, thinking it was a joke, until they got the routine visit where the magic world and the school were explained, although his mind was so blown that he couldnít really comprehend it. His motherís response was ďSure, I donít have to give you a cent for it, hmm? Just take care of my little Ďun!Ē said while patting Ted on the shoulder, which he cringed at. That didnít matter for long, though, because he had a whole new world to explore now, and thatís enough to excite any child, especially one who has only been out of the city once or twice. The train fascinated him and the barrier was the wickedest thing ever, and the castle? Ted had never seen anything so grand. He couldnít believe it was real, that it was all happening.
ďOh, hello, donít recognize you at all. Tonks, is it? Pleasure, pleasure, letís see nowÖoh, not a Ravenclaw or Slytherin, thatís for sureÖthereís a bit of Gryffindor in you, just wait until that independence showsÖyes, youíve a bit of bravery in youÖhowever, thereís much more than that, stronger, Iíd say. Not judgmental a bit, very accepting. A bewildered mind, a little lostÖalright, Iíve got itóHUFFLEPUFF!Ē
At school it took him a little while to fit in, but once he did, the first four years were great. He loved being at school and he had always been an energetic boy, so the magic world stunned him more and more every day. He knew he was a muggleborn and therefore looked down upon, but who fucking cared? He was having fun! Well, until his home life brought a different kind of fun.
The summer after Ted turned fourteen provided the imminent downward crash. A boy like him was bound for it, any proper British family would say, if they ever bothered to talk about him. As if he knew any proper families. Over the years, with him away at school for a majority of the time, Ted had drifted from many of his boyhood friends. Except one, that is. Wolfgang, a dark-haired German boy, had been Tedís true best friend since he was nine. The boyís name was a perfect match. He had a crazy spontaneity, a harsher edge than Ted, a love of thrills, and social adeptness. He was unpredictable and crude and never boring. He had a blazing sparkle in his eye; not always pleasant if one didnít know what he was thinking. At least, he seemed so extreme to those who didnít know him well. Ted knew it was all from his endless desire for a good time, and he wasnít complaining. Wolfgang hung out with various, drastically different crowds while Ted was away, searching for his niche. It took a few years, but soon enough, something was growing large enough to draw his attention, and he was sucked in fast. Raw music filled with anger and social satire was brewing and bursting; Wolfgang told Ted it was called punk.
With punk came a lifestyle that the two felt more at home in than anywhere before. All misfits need a place, right? It was okay to be dirty, the bottom of the food chain, rejected, bitter. Underground concerts became their reason for existence; the pit their therapy. Outside of the music itself came a whole new lifestyle as well; a lifestyle of speaking out for what you believe in and partying hard. Really hard. Itís hard to be more fucked up physically than moshing and sweating all the liquids and substance out of your body, and then hitting an abandoned building hard with alcohol and drugs and all around sin and carnage. They might have been a bunch of fourteen to nineteen year olds, but based on worldly indulgences and experiences? One would never know how young they were. It sucked Ted in more and more, and Wolfgang, too. He was even worse than Ted, especially since he could do it all year long.
Fifth year was the worst of all for Ted. His grades hit a record low, and he just didnít give a shit about anything. He was more sullen than ever, and more absent. In school, itís like he wasnít even there. He just moped in the back of the classroom, and drifted almost completely from the friends he made before. He just wanted the holidays to come so he could go back home, and boy, were the parties during the holidays great. As the year progressed, he just got worse. About two-thirds of the way through, Ted got the idea to tag the castle, and he was high as fuck at the time. So in the middle of the night, he snuck out, cackling and bouncing from wall to wall as he walked, everything swirling, and he made it to the Entrance Hall, probably being louder than anything because he really wasnít there in his mind. He busted out six cans of various colors and started spraying away, although it didnít resemble much of anything, except in his perception of it. He was caught patrolling students and taken first to Sprout and then to Dumbledore. It might not have been so bad if he wasnít so obviously drugged up, and his failing grades didnít help at all. After a serious talk with Dumbledore, which he remembered almost nothing of except the imminent threat of expulsion if he didnít do better, Ted pulled his grades up just enough to pass. He could have been expelled right there, but thankfully the headmaster just gave him some detentions and some of his priceless wisdom.
By sixth year, though, he was back to not caring. Although a little less somber and bitter than the year before, he still wasnít much better. His grades still sucked, he still didnít care that much about things, but he could still have some fun without being substance filled, unlike fifth year. Things went as usual, until he went home for the Christmas holidays. Wolfgang greeted him as enthusiastically as usual, but something was a little different. He had officially been kicked out of school for lack of attendance, and his parents, always a little more aware than Tedís own, had kicked out out, too. That wasnít what was really different though, there was something about Wolfgang. Ted didnít think much of it, until New Years Eve when Ted went to find him in preparation for a wild night out. Wolfgang was already drunk, but completely depressed, and said some things that Ted could never get out of his head.
ďWe are fuckin nothing, ya know that, mate? Look at us. School doní want us, parents are all fuckers, and weíre nothing. Nothing, Ted, nothing. We say all the shit we want about society hating us, but who would like us? Weíre going to be like this forever and thereís no changing. Forever. What are we gonna do? Thereís nothiní we can do! Fuck, weíre just fucked. Completely fuck ups that canít do shit, and we donít even care.Ē
Ted had never heard his voice so quiet before. After a half hour of talking with Wolfgang, he tried to brush it off and cheer him up, but instead this pissed Wolfgang off and he stormed away on his own. The next day, Ted got news that Wolfgang had overdosed and died in the midst of a party, had lain there for about six hours before people realized that he wasnít just passed out. Ted would never know if it was intentional or not, if his best friend was just trying to hard to forget that he kept going until he finally didnít have to think anymore. The sequence of events hit him hard, and he had little time to recover before turning to school. For a few weeks he was quieter than ever, thinking constantly, painting more than he ever had before.
By Easter holidays, Ted had made up his mind. He looked at his home, his lifestyle, his parents, and his old friends completely differently when he visited them again. It was like a shock, the new things he saw when he really opened his eyes. ďWe are nothing.Ē It hurt how true that was. It was scary as hell at the same time, too. He had never really thought about the future, he was all about the present, but where was he headed? Nowhere, really, the way he was. He remembered how Wolfgang had looked when he went to him, battered and looking like he belonged in the debris and stench of the party. Since then, Ted hasnít touched alcohol, drugs, or parties. He is still sucked in by the music, but when he gets wind of those things, he usually flees. He couldnít live like that; he couldnít become his parents all over. He couldnít fulfill what Wolfgang had said about them, either. It didnít have to be true, and he wasnít going to let it be.
take ab o w ANYTHINGELSE
Hi. This app almost killed me. And I didn't proofread.
Member No.: 1
Joined: 27-March 07
YOU HAVE BEEN ACCEPTED ! (Posted Image) Said HUFFLEPUFF, "I'll teach the lot, and treat them just the same."
congratulations, welcome to R E W I N D ! now that you're accepted, feel free to make a plot page, post in our playby claim, then start plotting and roleplaying! Any questions? Feel free to PM the admin or moderation team. --- lalalalalalalalalalalalalalala dancedancedancedance Punky Tonks eh? Should be interesting for a huffle. DOWN WITH AUTHORITY! ...yeah.