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Teddy Davis

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About Teddy Davis

  • Birthday 02/14/2004

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    Theresa Joan Davis
  • Year Level
    Fourth Year
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  • Played By
    Jodelle Ferland

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  1. Teddy jumped a bit at the voice, her feet propping on the floor and pushing her backwards automatically. She slammed the cover closed on her sketch, though it was clearly too late—and with the fashion magazines out, too little. Her face flushed, she quickly managed a scowl in Alex’s direction. Stupid nosy Spencer. ”If it gets out, Blue Eyes, your guitar will be playing you.” She slid her sketch book and magazines back into her backpack. ”The last thing I need is for people to start thinking I’m girly.” At the mention that he knew people who could get her fabric, Teddy rolled her eyes before her stupid body could think to grow a blossom of hope. It was entirely possible, of course, that Alex didn’t know her background. After all, he hadn’t been here when she started school, and she was sure the other kids had better things to talk about than the bitch in the back row. For his benefit, she held up the sleeve of her sweater for inspection, showing off the worn threading and clear signs of age. ”Government issued, Eejit,” she said. ”I’m not exactly rolling in coinage. And even if I were, I’d be an idiot to spend it on pretty little fabrics. I have to save—somehow put myself through college in a couple years if I’m to beat out the statistics about kids like me and stay off the streets and out of the whore houses and away from drugs. And I’m beating the statistics, which means that this… frivolity… is on paper only.”
  2. Teddy rolled her eyes when Ackers said that he once could have had a small mouth. She said, ”I have a feeling your big mouth is all you.” Not that she was one to talk. In both the literal and the figurative sense, she could be said to have a large mouth. Literally, it was rather wide, though thin-lipped. Figuratively… well, she never did know when to keep her mouth shut about things. Even as he was applauding her show, she was sticking one of the nicked marshmallows into her pocket…. for safekeeping, in case she needed it later. No one but Teddy knew about the ever-expanding stash of food in the bottom of her trunk. Half of it ended up getting thrown out, quickly replaced by something else—magic had its benefits, but nothing could keep food fresh forever. At least, no spell she’d found. Teddy scowled when Derrick used the word grumpy. His inference—that she did it on purpose—was a little too accurate, and had her bristling. She lifted her chin, the sharp, angular end jutting towards him, and said, ”What, just ‘cause I’m a girl, I should be all smiles and sunshine? Guys never get shit for the same. They get words like mysterious and serious and brooding. All very romantic. And women are told they’re grumpy or—if they’re not talking to their professors—bitchy. It’s a shitty double-standard and I refuse to buy into it. My expression is no one’s business but my own.” None of which was even close to the reason the perpetual scowl was on her face. It sounded good, though. Guys tended not to argue too hard when feminism was brought up—at least, guys who weren’t total jerks tended not to—which made it a fairly safe way to get them to back off when they were hitting too close to home. Ackers’ assessment of Romeo and Juliet had Teddy rolling her eyes. ”It’s just a scary story for parents to tell their children about why they should always obey without question—like the boogeyman. We’re old, so we know better, and you’re young and likely to be an idiot. I mean, Juliet was probably, what… my age, given the time period it was supposed to take place in? I know enough not to get myself killed. But that doesn’t mean they were wrong in going against their parents’ stupid feud. They just should have done it differently. And maybe not for love, which—let’s be real—at fourteen, and after one night of dancing, was actually lust and sooo not worth the trouble.” Teddy scowled when Ackers said that she could make some new friends. She said, ”I don’t need friends,” the words inadvertently coming out at the same time that he said the same. She blushed, turning away for a moment. She hated being predictable. ”All of mine are oddballs?” she echoed, popping the last marshmallow from her hand into her mouth. ”Not your most compelling argument. Anyway, people you like… or whatever… they just disappoint you. So why bother with that? I mean, like Romeo and Juliet—what we were talking about earlier? Romeo shacked up with whats-his-snot’s rival and the dude died because of it. The chick who helped Juliet escape probably got sacked without reference and had to work at a whore-house the rest of her life. And I’m pretty sure friars are religious, which meant he probably had to self-flagellate after inadvertently helping those two idiots off themselves. Friendship didn’t get them anywhere good.”
  3. Teddy wrinkled her nose when Ackers mentioned that there were cursed fires where water was the only thing that would work. She’d figured the one good thing about magic, when it came to its use against fire, would be the fact that you could conjure sand without needing to be near a source. Apparently magic had its pitfalls as well. Not one to enjoy being wrong about anything, she sullenly pointed out, ”House fires are usually grease fires, and water’s pants against grease. You’d still be better off conjuring sand. Since we’re magical, and we can. I mean, even muggles use… weird foam shit… for grease fires” The fact that Ackers hadn’t taken points from her for complaining about the lesson didn’t bypass her, but then, he rarely seemed to take points. It meant that she could relax a bit in his classes, which actually made it easier to learn. For example, anger and frustration at an over-reaction hadn’t happened, which meant she actually had heard—and absorbed—the information about cursed fires. She re-focused on her next aguamenti, and managed to make a semi-decent flow of water… for a second. It reminded her a bit of blowing on the edge of a pool noodle: One sharp burst of water, followed by nothing as if her wand had dried up. ”How would you know if a fire could only be dealt with by putting water on it?” Teddy asked. ”I mean, if it can be cursed so only water can put it out, I assume it can be cursed so only something else oddly specific can work. How do you know to use water and not, say, Ogden’s finest? That’d be a way smarter way to curse fire. Any idiot can think to try water.”
  4. Teddy rolled her eyes when he said that everyone was allowed a few missed shots to get used to differences in rims. She said, ”Yeah. Blame it on changing rims, like your maw hasn’t been the same size since you were my age. If anything, your target should be getting bigger as you get more… senior.” Ackers really was an okay sort—not constantly on her case about treating him with deference just because he was old-ish. When he offered her the bag of marshmallows, she offered him a smirk that rivaled the one he’d been wearing. You didn’t spend two summers on the streaks without superior reflexes and an ability to ensure that every scrap of food wound up precisely where it was supposed to go. She dug her hand into the bag, grabbing a fistful of marshmallows while well aware that he’d probably only been offering her one, and tossed two of them high into the air. Tipping her head back, she caught one in her mouth, swallowed it with the speed and grace of a snake, and caught the second one. Mouth still full of marshmallow, she grinned and gave a dramatic bow. Teddy sat cross-legged with her back against the wall, her face towards her professor. She shrugged when he asked if she’d been trying to slip away from the student body. ”Not sure if you’ve noticed, teach, but they’ve mostly learned to leave me alone by now anyway.” She stuffed another marshmallow into her mouth, and then wiggled a bit so she could pull her battered copy of The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle out of her pocket, waving it a bit in the air. ”Not my usual caliber of reading material—main character is an idiot to start out—but she gets her shit together by the end, and it turns out to be pretty dece. Better than Romeo and Juliet, anyway. Those two never stop being stupid.”
  5. Clothing designing was not a practical career option. As a foster child, Teddy had three and a half more years to get her life together, and then she’d be on her own. She didn’t have a net—no parents to catch her, or to lean on, if her first dream didn’t pan out or if it took a few years to make any money. She had to be able to hit the ground running. Which meant, of course, that she needed to decide on a practical career goal. But somehow, whenever she thought about what she wanted to do with her life, she reached for the stack of fashion magazines she kept hidden in the bottom of her trunk next to her pile of nicked food and photos of her siblings she’d printed from Facebook. Saturday morning she slid all the magazines into her government-issued cloth backpack, along with a sketch book and a mechanical pencil, and then she looked for somewhere to tuck away in private. She ended up in the memorial garden—not the most private place, perhaps, but fairly out of the way, especially in winter. Her time on the streets had ensured she was strong enough to withstand winter’s milder temperatures without freezing—though she’d mostly been outside in summer, she’d spent more than one night teeth-chattering through a thunderstorm. A little chill was nothing in comparison. Besides, most people around here knew better than to talk to her. She made sure of that. She pulled out a couple of magazines, flipping them open for inspiration, and then began to sketch the article of clothing she’d been mulling over for days: a sort of wizarding cloak that could be tucked in on itself to look like a drape-y cardigan in muggle towns. She was so focused on her work that she barely noticed what was going on around her.
  6. Might actually have somewhere to stay this summer, assuming my SW isn't dumb enough to set up a meet & greet ahead of time. 

  7. Teddy hated small talk. So when Prof Sullivan decided to start in with the how was your vacation crap after the hols, she didn’t even try to hide the groan. Of course, her holidays were pretty much always atrocious. Either she was on campus, trying not to look like one of only a few losers without anywhere to go for break, or she was off campus trying to make nice with some stupid foster family so they’d consider taking her during summer as well. This year had been the former—her social worker hadn’t found a lead for her summer housing yet—and had mostly involved the Sturt common room and the Bard. She wouldn’t have found the Winfield/Sullivan news exciting in any case, but coming at the tale end of a vacation when she hadn’t been permitted to do anything young and stupid, it was particularly grating. In fact, she was somewhat proud of her ability to keep her opinion on that to herself… the first time it was mentioned. It was the Flinders’ girl’s comment that had Teddy reacting. She spun slightly, giving Iris an are you kidding me? look, and then she said, ”They’re not cute. They’re idiots, the both of them. Who the hell gets married at—what are you guys, seventeen? Eighteen max? You two are barely old enough to wipe your own rear ends, and you think you’re ready for marriage? Give me a break.” As usual, the words were out of her mouth before she thought about the fact that they were apt to land her in detention. Again. Which was stupid in and of itself. Someone had to tell those two morons the truth. Teddy didn’t even have parents to teach her right from wrong, and even she knew better than that. Stupid spoiled teenagers.
  8. It was a little-known fact that Teddy actually liked school—or, at least, classwork. Learning was enjoyable for her. Not that anyone could be blamed for not knowing that about her. Though her course load was always challenging, and her grades—at least the paper ones—decent, she wasn’t exactly on the best of terms with most—read any--of her professors. Simple conflict of goals. They tended to want her to sit still and quiet and studious and keep her mouth shut, and she wanted anything else. Ackers’ classes tended to be on the lower end of the painful scale, as far as such things went, and some days she even managed to keep her scathing assessments of other students’ idiocy to herself for the sake of having one less detention in a given week. This week she already had three lined up—two for general rudeness, one for fighting in the halls—so she was especially determined to keep her mouth shut in Elemental Magic. She even managed it… for the first bit of the class. Mostly by tuning out the other kids’ answers to the professor’s questions and focusing on balancing a quill on the tip of her nose. Things only got interesting once he set some scarecrows on fire for them. Teddy grinned, letting the quill drop onto her desk with a soft thud so that she could propel herself from her seat and head towards her fire man. Under her breath she sang a quiet rendition of ”Goodness, Gracious, Great balls of fire,” while she tried to remember some of the finer points of aguamenti. Creation of fire, or summoning of fire from nearby? The latter would have been easier, but she was pretty sure it was the former. Lame. ”Aguamenti?” She definitely hadn’t studied the wand movement for this spell, too distracted by the three letters she’d received from her social worker about potential summer arrangements to buckle down on school work over the weekend. The resultant, pathetic splash of water from her wand was evidence of that fact. ”This is stupid,” Teddy growled. ”Sand works better on fire than water anyway, so why are we bothering with this crap?”
  9. Teddy was in a good mood, for once. They came rarely, but this morning had been worthy of one. Her social worker had written her and let her know that they had a tentative placement for her for the summer. It wasn’t exactly the best news in the world—foster carers were pretty much guaranteed to be ponces—but in lieu of group care or a juvenile detention facility—the only two options when foster homes got overbooked—almost any placement was a blessing. At minimum, single-family placements were easy enough to bail out of if the caretakers sucked. Way easier than juvi. In celebration of her good mood, she tugged on some jeans and a pseudo Nike t-shirt with the words Just do it… Later stamped across the front in bold print, shoved a paperback into one of the pockets of her jeans, and then climbed up the stairs to the west wall. She was looking for a place to sit and read her book when her eyes caught sight of Professor Ackers instead. She didn’t actually mind him, which was as close to a positive assessment as Teddy had of anyone. Still, her brows furrowed when she saw the marshmallows that he was carelessly tossing overhead and trying to catch in his mouth. And when he half-failed, the mallow hitting his nose before stumbling into his mouth, she couldn’t help herself. ”Weeeak.” Teddy’s arms crossed over her chest. ”I’ve seen firsties with better reflexes.”
  10. Job - b. 1994 Esther - b. 1996 Ruth - b. 1997 Delilah - b. 1999 Michael - b. 2001 Emmanuel - b. 2002 *Theresa - b. 2004 David - b. 2006 Abigail - b. 2007 Bartholomew - b. 2008 Simon - b. 2009 Mary - b. 2011 Peter - b. 2012 Daniel - b. 2013 Noah - b. 2014 Leah - b. 2016 Christopher - b. 2017 [TW - Child Abuse; Alcoholism] You Must… You Must Think I’m Strong To Give Me What I’m Going Through... Elnora Williams and Clyde Davis met in 1992 in Melbourne. At the time, Elnora was living in a church, having recently been pushed out of foster care because she came of age. Similarly, Clyde had also been recently ejected from his home, though in his case it was because he was a squib and his family was ashamed of him. With no familial support on either side, Elnora and Clyde leaned on each other and on religion. By 1993, they were moving to Bamawm, where Clyde took a job as a logger. They married and welcomed their first child--a son, Job--into the family in 1994. Life was hard for the Davis family. Clyde worked long hours to try to support an ever-expanding family, leaving Elnora wholly in charge of child care for their ever-expanding brood. Their religious views precluded them from using birth control, and there is no more than a 2-year gap between any of their children--often less. Elnora didn’t know how to handle her children. Her biblical teachings -- “spare the rod, spoil the child” -- were taken to more and more of an extreme as the family grew, and in time she used the rod for even the most minor of perceived transgressions. Her children were terrified of her. Enter Theresa, the seventh-born of what would eventually be seventeen children. From an early age, she was a troublesome child, always getting into one thing or another. She pushed her mother’s buttons like no one else. As she grew older, it became less incidental and more purposeful as Theresa learned that as long as her mother was focused on her, she left Theresa’s siblings more or less alone. Theresa leaned into that, taking the blame for anything her siblings did wrong and, when they hadn’t done anything wrong, creating misdeeds so her mother would focus on her and her siblings could escape the day unscathed. This was the beginning of Theresa’s personality development--the beginning of the belief that it was better to act out than act well--and paved the road for her later experiences. Meanwhile, her siblings looked at her with a mixture of admiration and trepidation. Often, Theresa was used as an example in front of the other children. The words Devil Child were frequently--and quite loudly--screamed in her direction. She was made to memorize long passages from the bible, which she would be expected to repeat as catechism while her mother beat her. Her siblings’ responses were mixed, with some understanding that she was just trying to be a protector and others--most, in reality--believing that to deserve so many punishments, she must truly be a devil. It wasn’t just her younger siblings she looked after, either. Only eight years old when her eldest brother, Job, moved into an apartment down the road, Theresa noticed--though no one else seemed to--when he sank into the bottle. For the next two years, she would wake up in time for last call and sneak out of her house to talk a stroll around town. If Job’s car was parked outside of his apartment, she went home. If not, she walked to the single pub in town, carted him out, and--though barely tall enough to see over the steering wheel--drove him home. Well, forgive me--forgive me if I’m wrong But this looks like more than I can do on my own... She was ten when her brother, Simon, fell out of a tree. Even now, she remembers the incident with an intense vividity. He was five at the time, climbing the tree behind their house while she watched with one eye, the other eye on a book--Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing. His foot slipped, and his hand couldn’t grip, and he cried out as he fell. Theresa stood, the book falling to one side as she reached, instinctively, out towards him, though she was too far away to be any use. And then he was floating, inches above the air, suspended… like magic. That was how her mother found them: Simon floating, and Theresa, frozen, standing with her hands held out. It was the worst punishment Theresa had ever endured. Even now, at times, she can hear the words her mother screamed at her throughout. For rebellion is like the sin of divination, and arrogance ilke the evil of idolatry. Samuel 15:23 and Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live. Exodus 22:18 and the worst: I will set my face against anyone who turns to mediums and spiritists to prostitute themselves by following them, and I will cut them off from their people. Leviticus 20:6 It’s that last one that haunts her, for she believes she should have known her mother’s plan. Instead, she passed out from pain and blood loss. When she woke up, she was in an ally in a city she didn’t recognize--Melbourne, she’d later learn. There she’d stay, living off of scraps salvaged from dumpsters, until her letter to Tallygarunga came. I Know I’m Not Strong Enough to Be Everything That I’m Supposed to Be… She made her own to school that first year, most of her school supplies acquired through thievery--either directly, or, more commonly, by stealing the coinage necessary to buy what she needed. For a few weeks, she even thought she’d get away with her new lifestyle, living at school nine months at a time and summering on the streets. But she had a tell, and it was noticed. Those first few weeks, she was dizzy from malnourishment and--though she didn’t know it--and infection that had settled into some of the injuries on her back. Dizzy enough to skip potions classes with practicals: Even she knew it wouldn’t be smart to pass out into a bubbling cauldron. After a few missed classes, her absences went from drawing her detentions to drawing her attention higher up the food chain. The story--some of it, at least--came out in the process--though the whole extent of her mother’s abuses, and the reasoning behind it, she kept closely guarded. I Give Up. I’m Not Strong Enough. The summer between first and second year, Theresa--now answering exclusively to the name “Teddy” (after all, Theresa was a name her mother had chosen, and Davis her father’s surname, and she was determined not to associate with either of them, even by proxy)--entered the foster care system. And far too soon, she learned a truth that she could not reconcile with: namely, that the ultimate goal of foster care is reunification. The thought of it terrified her. Her first visitation with her parents did nothing to alleviate her fears. Her parents were pleasant and polite in front of the social worker, and as soon as the social worker walked away, her mother began quoting passages at her--the same three that she had quoted the day she abandoned Teddy to begin with. Teddy begged for emancipation. She begged to not have to see her parents again. But reunification, she was told, was the goal as long as her parents continued to meet their “plan”, whatever that was. Teddy didn’t know what that meant. She knew it was bullshit, and that she didn’t feel safe. So she ran. It was another summer on the streets, followed by a year at Tally, only this time her secrets had been bared for the world to see. Hands of Mercy, Won’t You Cover Me? Lord Above, I’m Asking You to Be Strong Enough… It was another year before her parents officially, legally, terminated their rights to her, the paperwork going through midway through her third year. Teddy thought that was enough, and that she could leave her past behind her, but it wasn’t. There was still an opportunity for Next of Kin to make contact with her. She didn’t know what to expect the summer after third year when her eldest siblings--the four who by then were old enough to be out of the house--came to visit her in foster care. Reconciliation, perhaps, or at least understanding. But Job sat in a corner, his eyes red-rimmed and deadened from drug use, while her sisters--Esther, Ruth, and Delilah--went into details about all the ways she’d ruined the family. Did she realize that their parents were now under investigation? Did she realize how hard this was on all the kids still living at home? Why couldn’t she have kept her head down, like they had? Why couldn’t she have died on the streets? Teddy didn’t say a word to her social worker about how the visit went. But that night she cried for the first time since she’d woken up in Melbourne three years prior. Strong Enough…. For the Both of Us The time for Next of Kin to make a claim on her passed this past summer, and Teddy made it through her fourteenth birthday a free woman. Technically, she knows, she’s up for adoption, but it’s not on her radar. She’s only in the foster home a few months out of the year, after all, and she’s a teenager--past the age where people might think she’s cute enough to be worth taking home. And even if all that weren’t true, the words “Troubled Child” are, she’s sure, spelled out in bold letters across her file. No one’s going to want her. She tells herself that she’s okay with that.
Theresa Joan Davis
Fourth Year
* year old Muggleborn Human She/Her
Blood Status: Muggleborn
Species: Human
Player:  Cait
Pronouns: She/Her
Play-by: Jodelle Ferland
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