#is this empty spaces? maybe

[chaosmagetwin]

The fairy and the doll; journey to the witch

Idea notes

A fairy and a doll run into each other on a little farm in a place of no particular significance. They become fast friends and play for a bit then quickly get into an argument, which leads to a fight that injures one of the fairy’s wings, maybe even permanently. Neither of them know, but they both feel bad for various reasons, and decide to stick together for a few days, until maybe the wing is better, or at least the fairy gets home. As the two travel together, they bond over shared adventures, scary moments, magic, and healing. They also share their goals with each other as their bonds deepen, and by the time the fairy gets home, she wants nothing more than to keep adventuring with the doll, and promises to help it get to it’s goal: a witch, who might be able to help it. Along the way, they’ll run into a small cast of wacky characters and creatures, and maybe even fall in love.

Cast of characters

The Fairy: an androgynous girlish dumbass with more energy than brains, childish impulse control, and a strong sense of loyalty, but not self preservation. A tomboyish princess type. She loves adventure and exploring and magic. Six inches (and 2/32’s!) tall and wears leaves for dresses. If there’s trouble, she’s caused it. Allergic to all iron and steel. Dragonfly wings. She doesn’t have a singular goal, she has dozens; see the top of a table, talk to a cat, pole a human in the eye with their own finger, and others.

The doll: a handmade little cloth doll with a sewing needle stuck in one hand, yellow yarn for hair, and an embroidered dress. Its expressions are stitches, its fingers are loose threads, and kind of horrific sometimes. It’s about 7 inches tall (it doesn’t need more precise than that. Plus, it squashes and stretches, so, that changes anyways!) It’s quiet and reserved, serious, dedicated, and absolutely positively not having a good time escorting this dumb fairy, no sir. It definitely doesn’t like having someone its size to talk to! Or to protect. It’s a bit of an ice queen butch, knight coded, uses the sewing needle like a sword, and is strong and durable. Durable enough to fight a cat and win! Or so it says. Fond of drama, likes to play too. It has one goal; find a witch, for secret reasons (“it isn’t to turn back into a human! Stop asking! I never was a human!”).

The tabby tom cat: murderer of all things that move on earth or in the sky. Desecrated of the garden. The spiteful trickster. He wants nothing more than to kill the fairy; yet an ancient deal prevents all cats from killing fairies unless they see them flying. He wants more than this, though. He feels compelled to kill this fairy, and yet… he won’t. He won’t let himself.

The fairy queen: no one knows how old she is. Forever. Like, 10 years old, at least! Maybe 12? She’s really weird. She alone can lie, among all the fae. Some say it’s because of a trick she played on the humans, or maybe it was a deal she made with the cats, or dogs maybe? But she’s the reason everything is like this, isn’t she? No one knows what she wants.

The farm girl: original owner of the doll, fifteen years ago. Forgot about the doll, when it got dropped somewhere. Humans are all the same; they can’t see anything right, or hear anyone talking. But the doll can’t move when a human sees it, and if any human finds out that the doll is alive, they’ll destroy it… and they might be the only thing that can. Worse, they’ll make the fairy give the farm gold or something! Never trust a human. Never ever ever.

The field mouse: he’s just a little guy! Only 1 inch big! Stronger than the fairy though, and more suave, and also, he has a cape! He’s never left the field, but he wants to, and needs to, too. He needs to get to the forest mice and make some trades of wheat seeds for some iron slivers, so his clan can prepare for war against the clan one farm over. He worries about his responsibilities, and about war, and about the human, and that cat. He’s constantly worrying himself sick, especially about his new friends.

The witch: no one’s ever seen her, EVER. And everyone knows that witches are evil. Even the mouse knows that! They say she can turn things inside out, that she tricked the queen of the fairies a long time ago (like, 6 years ago! At least! Maybe 8?) they also say that she can cure any illness, and spin hair into silk, or turn lead into salt! They say she’s uglier than a troll, and also that her magic is good enough to still seduce princes! The doll says that it has to reach her, but it won’t say why…

[luvingsolace]

Will Solace is so protective of Nico he discovered not one, not two, but THREE of his hidden powers only to protect him.

Like. This is just very insane to me. His protectiveness over Nico is so strong and so intrinsic that it unlocked inner parts of him that he had no idea existed, and in some cases parts of him he probably unconsciously kept away.

And it’s crazy that people undermine this protectiveness, because it’s genuinely such a consistent main trait in Will.

[aseriesofratherfortunateevents]

HRT isn't enough this one needs to be encased in porcelain and silk

[queeniehostapasta]

It’s alright folks, nothing to see here, just some silly activities!!! (They’re actually trying to kill eachother, nvm😏)

GOTDAMN ALRIGHT I THINK THATS ENOUGH (tomato) SAUCE!!!

And of course we can’t forget the lovely original picture 😌

[attleboy]

can you draw Pomni in a liminal space?

kept thinking about this ask so... pomni on the bus for tonight

original image here! it should link to the source now :D

[aprilblossomgirl]

Let’s go then. Where again? Add my stuff into your room.

ThamePo Heart That Skips a Beat | Ep.09

[patchworkcuddlebug]

A Parasite

Norae was always... resistant to having a doll. Her covenmates tell her about theirs like they're little slave-things, always wandering around your house and doing things you should be doing on your own. It's creepy, and (she would never say this out loud) enabling laziness.

But as her power grows, so does her manor. She begins noticing hallways stretching out longer than they once did, with protrusions shaped like doorknobs emerging from the walls. There's already a set of stairs leading uselessly into the ceiling, no doubt where the second story will begin to grow.

The effort she put into keeping things in order used to be paltry for a witch as powerful as her, but she's starting to get annoyed by the distractions. She is growing tired of pruning new furniture like weeds.

She knows nothing of clockwork, and she never developed her skills in magical dollcraft for obvious reasons. But she will sometimes catch sight of a stray, trying to find purpose in picking the wild berries just beyond her yard. She wonders if she'll be helpful enough, before quietly correcting herself and wondering if it will be helpful enough.

She told her coven how she was thinking about leaving a sort of trap for it, a cup of tea under a cardboard box held up with a stick, only half serious. Regardless, they told her that dolls are much more trusting and docile than she was assuming, and that she simply needed to approach and talk to it.

She waited with a book, just on the edges of her property. The wide brim of her hat helped block the glare of the sun as she'd occasionally look off through the trees. Soon, it came walking past her unceremoniously, seeming as if it's trying to ignore her. It's walking to the bush. There's already a few ripe berries piled neatly in its hand.

It was made with porcelain, with a more tattered version of the maid dress they all seem to wear, walking with just as much rigidity and poise. But this is the first doll she's seen with a wind-up key. It slowly turned just a few degrees for every moment that passed. She could see a little rope tied to one of the sides, presumably so that one could wind it on her own.

"Excuse me? ...Doll?" Just as she starts speaking, it perks up, looking ready to leap into action. "Y... yes, Miss?" Its voice is timid, but eager.

"Would you like to, uh..." She hesitates for a moment, feeling ridiculous. This is the first time she's had to say something like this out loud. "Belong to me? I have tea."

It gasps. "Yes! Oh, yes, thank you Miss!" She runs up to the witch as if to give her a hug, only to skitter to a last-second stop just in front of her and give a polite bow, with proper curtsy.

"Right. Um, follow me, then." She closes her book and begins walking back to her door, her movements awkward as the doll followed close behind. She can't stop looking back at it, at its bizarrely serene face and excited steps. "So, do you have a name?"

"This one's old witch called it Lullaby, Miss!" It seems so happy to say.

"That's... still your name then, I think."

"Yay! Thank you Miss!"

. . . . .

Colloquially, the word "doll" is often used to describe any construct that obeys a witch, with considerable variation thereupon. Perhaps the most infamous among these variants in classification is the combat doll. These ones can often be identified by their more metallic exterior, such that they can easily be confused for androids at first glance, but there also exists combat dolls that

"Excuse this one, Miss?" the thing knocks at the door to the witch's study. It lingers in the doorway, not wanting to intrude further.

Norae tries to stifle a sigh of annoyance as she turns away from her book. "Yes, Lullaby?" She just noticed that her its hair just a little dishevelled from working, but it's not nearly as matted and gnarled as it was earlier today. She's glad it looks so much more... healthy.

"This one has finished sweeping the first floor, Miss!" The doll smiled, clearly proud of herself. The witch is caught in her own head for only a moment, ruminating on owning someone... something so close to a human. "What would you like it to do next?"

"You..." it takes her a moment to stifle her shock. She's read enough to know that such a task is to be expected from dolls, but it still seemed to work so hard so fast. "Then you've completed your chores. Treat yourself to some tea." She tells it matter-of-factly and turns back to her book, trying to match the professionalism of her literature.

"But, Miss!" The doll says. Norae turns back, and sees the doll has a very human, very concerned look. "This one has barely worked today! Would you like it to scrub the floors as well? Or organize your bookshelf? It can cook for you, Miss!"

"Hey, calm down, it's alright." The doll's owner tries to sound reassuring, as one would to a friend. "I don't know how your last witch did it, but I don't want to overwork you. Do you like to read? I have a library."

The doll tried to swallow its apprehensive look. "This one will read for you, Miss." It nods dutifully and runs along.

That... went well, she thinks. She understands that dolls are... eager, to a certain degree, but she's sincere about not wanting to exhaust the poor girl thing. She also thinks about her own autonomy, and how listless she'd feel if left without her own chores.

. . . . .

Norae lets out a bored sigh as she watched the vegetables sizzle in their pan. She tries to stir them around, spreading them evenly in the oil, but it's more to entertain herself than to properly cook.

She hears Lullaby quickly, yet still with a polite reservation, hurry up the stairs.

"Miss!" It calls out, drowning out its footsteps before it turns the corner. As it emerges into the kitchen, it looks... mortified. "It's so sorry, let this one, good dolls should-"

"Lullaby, it's okay!" She holds the frying pan up, higher than the doll can reach. "You don't have to do everything for me just because you're a doll."

"But, Miss, this one wants to!" It looks desperate and pleading. "Please, Miss, you've been so nice, and this-"

"Hey, calm down, there's no need for that." Norae tries to sound reassuring. She sets the pan down and turns to give Lullaby her full attention, kneeling to match her its eye level and placing a hand on its shoulder. "I know you want to help, but I enjoy being able to take care of myself, too. You already do plenty, and you should be proud of that."

The doll trembles, only as much as its docility will allow. "Yes Miss, Thank you Miss." After a quick bow, it gets out of Miss's way, leaving her to return to her monotonous stove-watching.

Lullaby takes a seat on Miss's couch. eyes forward and hands on its lap. It's so comfortable, the soft cushioning much more enveloping that the stumps it was used to sitting on. It tries to find a place to rest its eyes. On Miss's roaring fire, magically permeating a tender warmth through the room? On the door to the maid's quarters, where Miss had cleaned it and told it all it had to know? On Miss's beautiful and intricate grandfather clock, which it is letting collect a thin layer of dust?

It shouldn't cry. Miss is being nice, after all.

. . . . .

The doll shakes itself from a stupor. It wasn't still; there was no comfort in its emptiness, just effortful restraint fading into a half-present miasma.

Norae gestures for it to face away, gently guiding its shoulders to face where she sat on the couch. "Lean forward, please."

"It's okay, Miss." The doll sounded groggy, words tumbling heavily out of its mouth. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

The witch leaned to the side, showing the sympathetic look she had on her face. "Why wouldn't I wind you up? It's no trouble at all, and... I can't just let you pass out."

Lullaby slowly, heavily, shook its head. It wanted to be polite, to word itself delicately and reserve itself, but its clockwork was moving too slowly to stop it before it spoke. "No, please. It's a bother. This one doesn't do enough, it's not worth it."

Miss places a hand on its shoulder. "Oh, Lullaby, no, that's not true at all. You do just as much as you need to."

"It's not enough." The doll rested its elbows on its knees, leaning forward and cupping its face in its hands. "Miss is so nice, and this one just... takes it all in without giving enough back. It feels so useless, and pathetic, and... i-it just wants to be helpful." Its voice falters just at the end, hitching into a repressed sob.

Norae felt a pang in her heart that deepened with every word. Of course, she's been such an idiot. She feels like a bum when she doesn't keep herself busy, how would a being purpose-made to be helpful feel? It finally dawns on her, what the extent of a doll's inhumanity means.

"I'm so sorry, I... had no idea you felt that way." There's a sincere sorrow in her voice, the doll hearing Miss's confidence drop for the first time. "I never meant to hurt you, I just didn't want to be too hard on you."

She placed a hand on her doll's back, careful to leave room for its key to turn. "From now on, you get to do whatever you like. Cooking, cleaning, anything. I might still make you take some breaks so I can do something myself, but I'll never leave you with nothing to do."

Lullaby slowly, hopefully, lifts its head to look at Miss. "This one doesn't want to make you do anything you don't want, Miss, it can-"

"Lullaby, if you do everything you can to never feel like this again, you'll make me the happiest witch in the world." She put on a reassuring smile.

Norae didn't have time to see the grin widening on her doll's face before it latched on for a hug. All it could say was thank you as its tears left wet marks on the witch's dress.

"I'm just happy that you're happy." Miss hugged back, making the doll feel more loved than it could remember. "Now let's get you wound up, you've got some dishes to do."

[jellysshitpoems]

Killer chat on the brain so heres some Ronin doodles

UGHH I LOVE HIM 🫶🫶 CLICK FOR BETTER QUALITY

[anaktoria-of-the-moon]

On female rage and mechanical augmentation:

I imagined a cruel emperor who collected girls who caught his eye, girls from his country and every other, to put into his harem of consorts and keep as he pleased, as toys, as ornaments made of cinnabar and sandalwood, silk and peach-flesh. Perhaps one day he picks the wrong girl.

She is beautiful, this woman, like all the others, and young, also like the others; but unlike many of the others, who were weavers and spinners, fishwives and performers, this one helps her aging mother in the art of making carefully crafted machines, little marvels of copper wire and forged arms, from dolls to steam engines to pistolets and more.

The emperor in his preening believes he has saved her from a sorry life of toiling away at the workbench with chipped nails and dirty palms, a commoner’s lot in which no woman could ever be happy. On her first night at the palace she cries and cries, and he says, Don’t snivel; it doesn’t become you; you have everything you want here, do you not? What could possibly be missing? And he yanks her pretty silken hair and laughs when she cries harder.

What he doesn’t know is that she cries not out of fear or sorrow, but rage, white-hot, plain and simple.

Clever girl, she doesn’t tell him so. She schools herself into the picture of the concubine he wants - obedient and demure, sweet and soft, the way she had teased metal in the forge into well-tempered alloy and shaped it into gears and springs and blades and beams. She says to him, Husband dear, I would ask for jewelry, the better to shine for you; I would ask for precious gold thread, for diamond earrings and bronze filigree; I would ask for a heated copper bath in which to soften my skin; I would ask for charcoal with which to darken my eyes for you, cinnabar with which to paint my lips. The emperor laughed at her folly but gave her all these gifts obligingly.

Then she begins her work.

The other women she has befriended, and they teach her well. From Haewon she learns to act, to powder her face and keep up the facade to their husband the emperor; from Jiaqi she learns to roast sulfur out of the cinnabar powder and combine it with the charcoal, and from Ori-hime she learns to spin out the gold thread and weave it into a control matrix that, when laid over her spine like a collar, makes metal move with only a thought, the same way her own arms and legs do. And with her own expertise she turns the copper into hammered panels, the bronze into reinforcing cradles, the diamond into grit for blades that can cut through anything.

By day she thanks them all by shielding them from their husband. When he asks for delicate Haewon, she volunteers; she saves Ori-hime’s clever, careful hands from him by giving him her own instead; Jiaqi she claims to have fallen sick, and offers herself up humbly when he, in his disappointment at the news, needs something to strike.

Her husband calls for her one day; he’s in a terrible mood, and when he’s finished with her the next morning the other ladies carry her sore body back and lay her on the bed and soothe her with tea and wetted cloths. They fuss over the mangled remains of her right hand. But she dashes it all away. Bring me my things, she tells them. Tonight is the night.

So they get Weilin with her expertise in taking apart a body and putting it back together with only a needle and wine and some thread; then they clothe her in a dress most wondrous: shining copper and gold filigree, with jade leaves and carnelian flowers inlaid, and for her lovely face a half-mask of precious gems and steel boning to cover the ugly marks he’s left. Cinnabar for her cheeks and charcoal for her eyes. How could any man resist this vision in a thousand shining colors?

Not the emperor. When she goes to him again in the evening he all but drools.

So enraptured is he that he doesn’t notice when the other consorts shut the door behind her and lock it from the outside, or when the panels of her dress click into place, or when, in the dim light of dusk, the tiny miraculous engine in her back roars to life and sends sparks through the fine mesh of the gold collar, sets her eyes aglow.

But when the sulfur and charcoal in the little compartment hidden in the undone lobes of her right palm is set afire with the click of a steel hammer, when she brings her face close and the mandibles of her jade mask open wide - oh, then he knows.

It is a bloodbath. She emerges covered in charred gobbets of his flesh, and the whole pavilion smells of gunpowder and burning meat. But she herself is pristine, untouched.

Her ladies throw themselves over her and find that her body does not yield. The copper has fused itself into her body, the collar has inlaid itself into her spine; in the heat of the fire she seems to have been reborn in metal wholly, from head to toe. She regards them blankly over the diamond-edged mandibles they have made for her, and they look back, and for all that she is known to them, they cannot help but be a little afraid.

She says, You can go now. It is done.

In the light of the burning palace, the women look at each other; they shake their heads. No, says Jiaqi, we are yours, as surely as we were ever his, and more than that. Where else would we go, now that we’ve overthrown an empire for you, now that you have overthrown an empire for us?

So the girl in metal looks at them and then, after a long, long moment, she says, Then you will be my queens, and we’ll rule together. But why aren’t you afraid of me? Why don’t you run? I am not what I was anymore. I am a blade forged in fire.

Haewon trembles - but then she lifts her chin. She says fiercely, You were always that. We just gave you the means to become it on the outside, too.

Sen-hime agrees, and then so does Weilin. And Jiaqi smiles and steps forward and takes the consort’s hand, gunpowder barrel and all.

She looks tenderly into the bloodstained face and she says, We made you what you wanted to be, and with that you saved us. How could we ever be afraid of that?

And: You are ours, and always will be. And we will always be yours, if you’ll have us.

So she does.

They call her the Mantis Consort, She Who Rules Alone; but that isn’t quite true. She has four loyal wives, after all, and each one of them as much has the throne as she herself does. They say that each man who tries her hand in marriage - or to bring down her walls with arrows and fire - goes the same way: head ground between jade mandibles, body strewn in pieces. And her reign lasts for as long as she lives. For who can vanquish a woman armed with fury and steel alike, and the love of four clever women besides?

[maybeelse]

Let's start with something easy.

Once, you were someone. You were a person, or at least you thought you were. Everyone around you certainly seemed to think you were, and surely they knew better than you.

There were cracks in the assumption, of course, ugly oozing places where your thoughts' pastel slime dripped and stunk and dried into a bright painful crust. Places where sunlight rotted. That was normal, though. It had to be normal. Because if it wasn't …

But, well.

It wasn't.

And oh, how that hurt! How you struggled against the truth! A thorny briar, a barbed-wire snare, its fangs dripping with poison, its smile promising nothing but gnawing hunger. It tore you to shreds. You tore yourself to shreds to escape your self, and you failed, more's the pity. All that suffering when you could have just given in.

At least those tattered shards left space for something else to grow; for it to creep in through the mirror, through the empty places in your thoughts, on wings as soft as breath and as fragile as moonlight. Space to be, not someone, but yourself.

[eulaliasims]

This is a theater. It looks a little like a McDonalds with that red and yellow, but I assure you it's a theater.

[hogfetish]

[wannabemasterofwindintraining]

Touch repulsed man caught being physically affectionate

[nadia-raggles]

some witches get dolls so easily, it seems. traumatized and empty Shells flock to them to be changed into a thing that feels less wretched.

sometimes the transformation is grisly, graphic, with fluids all over the workshop and the stench of internal organs no longer needed. sometimes it's sublime, the doll-to-be drawn up into the air by an invisible string, golden light beaming from its fingertips, its eye sockets, its joints, as its skin transforms to porecelain and its organs harden and reshape themselves into clockwork.

sometimes a witch prefers to build a doll from scratch, to sew the cloth, or carve the wood, or sculpt the clay, and imbue that with life. wake it up somehow, or find some loose spirit that wants to possess it.

not to say that those processes are effortless or worthless, but these witches never seem to want for magic, or energy, or raw materials, and they can make a doll whenever they choose, or keep as many dolls as they like.

my sister tried to make a doll once. but the meek little Shell she worked her magic on turned into something strange. something wrong. it grew to three times its size, black ichor oozing from its joints, its limbs lengthening, going gray, its delicate hands turning into claws. it looked down at itself, then at Sis, screaming in anguish. the noise made her pass out. it went on to break out of the workshop, screaming, sweeping pedestrians out of its way, searching for a building to break itself against. it was the College that took it down. then they forbade Sis from ever making a doll again.

she wouldn't have been capable anyway. her magic shut itself off. she couldn't fly anymore, or light a fire with her wand, or bring back unwatered plants from the brink of death. i had to take care of that kind of stuff for both of us. the only way we knew she still had magic was that the fairies still gathered around her whenever we visited the forest, and she could still understand them.

that did little to cheer her. i understood she was suffering from pain i could hardly even imagine. i could see her withdrawing, becoming a shell of herself. it was inevitable, i thought, she'd need sometime to turn her into a doll at some point. she'd want it to be me.

it's weird talking about all of this dollmaking stuff. some of us guy witches just have an uncomfortable relationship with it. of course guy witches can have dolls and many do. it's just for me, the combination of being raised as a girl, and showing magical aptitude, made everyone kind of take it for granted that i would love dolls. i got dolls every year for my birthday, empty forms for me to enchant, and my relatives would ask after them. how were they doing? could any of them walk or talk yet? they were trying to be supportive. it really freaked me out. i did enchant a few, found some friends to foist them off on, felt guilty as all hell. just couldn't deal with their little empty eyes following me around the room.

weirdly, that stopped when my facial hair came in. most of my relatives stopped talking to me too, which is why my new family is the other witches. anyway, i've worked with a few dolls since then, when their witches were busy and needed someone to look after them. dollsitting. but i've never made or owned a doll and i've never had any desire to. i really wrestled with if i would be able to do that for Sis, if she wanted. if i could make her my doll. if i could, then i'd have a doll and lose her, in a way. or at least our relationship would change, permanently. would she still be Sis? if i couldn't, she'd have to find another witch, and I'd lose her to them.

when she was finally ready to tell me what was on her mind i tried to change the subject before i realized she was looking less Empty than i was used to. "no, Bro, I don't want you to make me into a doll," she said. "i want you to help me make a doll."

she thought, if we held hands, i could channel her inaccessible magic, into a form, or a Shell, and if the doll went wrong, if the same thing happened as before--she could count on me to stop it--kill the abomination before it got out of control and went on a tirade and got itself killed by the College. the fairies had given her this idea.

"so all of this time you've wanted a doll of your own. we could adopt one, you know. there are many dolls without witches. i know a few."

"i've thought about that. it's not the same. i need to make a doll, with my own magic. i need it to be mine. can't you understand?"

i tried to. "but you know I've never wanted to make dolls. making a doll with you would be... and everyone would think i made it, that it was mine, and i'd have to go along with it."

"yes. but i need this, and you're the only one i want to do it with. you're the one who has stuck by me all these years, when the other witches wanted to shut me out. if you can't do it, i understand, i'll just have to figure out...something else." something i'd like even less.

"but if something goes wrong, if the doll becomes a monster, i'm supposed to help you kill it? that's like... i'm just a guy..."

"i know it's a lot," she said, the empty look returning to her, "and you're scared. don't be scared. you don't have to do it. i'll figure out something else."

i was more scared of losing her. i told her i would think about it. please let me think about it.

she said she didn't want it anymore.

[itissadbutitsmy-artblog]

i need to stop setting up comics without planning them in advance

anyways lonely lonely candy people suddenly finding real joy and happiness, and not knowing how to stop doing the thing that makes them happy. ever forever. ever ever ever forever. it makes them happy. they're lonely.

lyrics from choices (this is bismuth) by katyj98 on youtube

[leonardalphachurch]

something you should know about me: i will ALWAYS take the opportunity to make a relationship chart

theta and junior are the main characters here so while i could include other ppl and relationships on here i tried to keep it to like. only the stuff that would directly affect their story as much as possible.

list of each character and their relationships under the cut in a maybe easier to read format?

if a characters name is small and i don’t give them a full name here it’s bc they’re not actually a real character and only exist bc there needed to be a person there

[C parents] Parents of Caboose; Grandparents of Smith. [C sis] Sister of Caboose; Mother of Smith. [Caboose] Michael J. Caboose: Uncle to Smith; Friends with Church and Tucker. [Smith] John Elizabeth Andersmith: Nephew of Caboose; Part of the teen's friend group.

[Price] Aiden Price: Caretaker to Church; Unrequited feelings for Director. [Director] Dr. Leonard Church: Widowed husband of Allison; Father of Church and Lina; Grandfather to Theta; Unrequited love interest of Price. [Allison] Allison Beth Church: Dead. Wife of Director; Mother of Church and Lina; Grandmother of Theta. [Lina] Carolina Church: Daughter of Director and Allison; Sister to Church; Ex fiancées with York. [Church] Leonard L. Church: Son of Director and Allison; Brother to Lina. Father of Theta; Unlabeled exes with North; Coparenting Theta with North; Friends with Tucker and Caboose; Rivals with Temple; Complicated relationship with Tucker. [York] Anthony York: Ex fiancées with Lina; Unrequited love interest of North.

[S/N parents] Parents to South and North; Grandparents to Theta. [South] Sarah Dakota: Sister of North; Aunt to Theta's. [North] Noah Dakota: Brother of South; Father of Theta; Unlabeled exes with Church; Coparenting Theta with Church; Unrequited feelings for York. [Theta] Theta Dakota: Child of North and Church; BFFs with Junior.

[J dad] Father of Jensen; Stepfather of Simmons. [S/J mom] Mother to Simmons and Jensen. [S dad] Divorced father of Simmons'. [Jensen] Katie Jensen: Half sister to Simmons; Unrequited crush of Palomo; Mutual crush with Volleyball; Part of the teen's friend group. [Simmons] Richard "Dick" Simmons: Half brother to Jensen; Complicated relationship with Grif. [Volleyball] Valerie Kimball: Daughter of Vanessa Kimball; Mutual crush with Jensen.

[G parents] Mother of Grif and Kai. [Grif] Dexter Grif: Brother to Kai; Helps take care of Bitters; Complicated relationship with Simmons. [Kai] Kaikaina Grif: Sister to Grif; Mother of Bitters; Exes with Tucker; Flirty casual thing going on with Georgina. [B dad] Father of Bitters. [Bitters] Antoine Bitters: Son of Kai; Taken care of by Grif; Boyfriends with Matthews; Part of the teen's friend group. [Matthews] Madison Matthews: Boyfriends with Bitters.

[Tucker] Lavernius Tucker: Father of Junior; Exes with CB; Reluctantly helps take care of Palomo; Friends with Church and Caboose; Complicated relationship with Church; Budding romantic feelings for Temple; Exes with Kai. [CB] Dead and we're all glad about it; Exes with Tucker; Father of Junior'. [Junior] Junior Tucker: Son of Tucker and CB; Friends with Palomo; BFFs with Theta; Rivals with Biff Jr.; Part of the teen’s friend group. [Palomo] Charles Palomo: Friends with Junior; Very happily taken care of by Tucker; Unrequited crush for Jensen.

[Temple] Mark Temple: Coparenting Biff Jr. with Georgina; Friends with Georgina; In love with Biff; (Also very close friends with Biff I didn’t put it here but you know); Manipulative but kind of genuine romantic feelings for Tucker; Rivals with Church. [Georgina] Georgina Buford: Widowed wife of Biff; Mother of Biff Jr.; Coparenting Biff with Temple; Friends with Temple; Flirty casual thing going on with Kai. [Biff] James “Biff” Buford: Dead. Husband of Georgina; Father of Biff Jr.; Unrequited love of Temple; (Also very close friends with Temple I didn’t put it here but you know). [Biff Jr.] James Buford Jr.: Son of Georgina and Biff; Raised by Temple and Georgina; Rivals with Junior.