the characters of the scorpio races

So here's the DEETS

The official Voltron character pages have come out, and they’re honestly so wonderful! I really want to collect them all asap. However, a lot of information has also come from this stuff. So for all of you out there fighting against shaladin, or are shaladins, here’s what you need to know! I have photo evidence if you’d like, but I’m on mobile so message me.

• Pidge is 15 / Italian
• Hunk is 17 / Samoan
• Lance is 17 / Cuban
• Keith is 18 / No race confirmed / birthday is October 23, making him a scorpio(or libra, depending)
• Shiro is 25, or, if you believe in crippling depression, 6
• Hunk refers to him as Space Dad

Those are the raw details! Now for conclusions:

• Klance has an age gap of 9 months if Keith is born the year before Lance, and an age gap of 3 months if born in the same year
• Klance is not pedophilic because of the 3/9 month age gap
• Sheith is 7 years apart
• Sheith is two people on different levels of maturity in mind and body, and is inappropriate, predatory, and abusive
• Shaladin ships have been softly refuted by Josh Keaton and Bex
• Shidge is absolutely pedophilic (15 and 25)
• Shallura is a teen and an adult, and is therefore inappropriate as well
• H/K/L ships are all cool
• Shance is a 17 year old and 25 year old, therefore inappropriate, predatory, and abusive
• Any shaladin ship showcases a power and maturity imbalance between the members of the relationship and is therefore abusive
• It comes from an official source, all packaging and information goes through Voltron official first
• Stop whitewashing COC(characters of colour)
• The paladins see Shiro as a father figure, or perhaps a brother figure(for broganes)
• I won’t be censoring this post, all people from all walks of the fandom have to see this


Favorite Characters : Sean Kendrick (The Scorpio Races by @maggie-stiefvater)

“The water is so cold that my feet go numb almost at once. I stretch my arms out to either side of me and close my eyes. I listen to the sound of water hitting water. The raucous cries of the terns and the guillemots in the rocks of the shore, the piercing, hoarse questions of the gulls above me. I smell seaweed and fish and the dusky scent of the nesting birds onshore. Salt coats my lips, crusts my eyelashes. I feel the cold press against my body. The sand shifts and sucks out from under my feet in the tide. I’m perfectly still. The sun is red behind my eyelids. The ocean will not shift me and the cold will not take me.” 

Some of my favourite male characters:

  • August from This Savage Song
  • Mark Blackthorn from Lord of Shadows
  • Lazlo Strange from Strange the Dreamer
  • Kaz from Crooked Kingdom
  • Sean from The Scorpio Races

The Scorpio Races: Sean Kendrick + Puck Connally

In the middle of all this, as Sean slips out of his jacket, he looks over his shoulder at me and he smiles at me, just a glancing, faint thing before he turns back to Tommy. I’m quite happy for that smile, because Dad told me once you should be grateful for the gifts that are the rarest.




  • Reblog this post! Make sure you’re following​ @thescorpioracesfestivaland @welcometothisby​.
  • If you’re participating in the Character Challenges, sign up by reblogging either the Rider Post or the Tourist Post.
  • Refer to the Character Challenge Posts for prompts and schedule.
  • Include the challenge number and title in your post.
  • Tag each post with the official tags (#TSRF2017 and #thescorpioracesfestival) and mention @thescorpioracesfestival.
  • You can plan ahead or catch up later, but try to post during the specified week (and not before) so we can all enjoy things together!
  • Claim your entries in the giveaway widget on the Rules Page.
  • Complete Rules

smellvins  asked:

How do you channel the strange, living quality of some real-life places into fictional settings? How do you go about turning the setting almost into a character in its own right? I saw you visited the part of Ireland I'm from recently; maybe it's because I'm biased, but I've always thought there was some bleakly ancient quality to Donegal and I wondered how you recreate that sort of tangible personality which some places have in your fictional settings - ie the island in Scorpio Races? TY!!

Dear smellvins,

For me, writing a very atmospheric novel is a subtractive process.

What do I mean by that? You have the real world, with everything in it. Donegal, for instance, where I just was. You have every person who lives there doing every thing — the plumbers and the doctors, the cashiers and the bums. You have all sorts of buildings — cottages and clinics, grocery stores and knick knack shops. You have all sorts of days — misty one and sunny ones, hot ones and cool ones. All sorts of people — folks into the Kardashians and folks into knitting and folks into sheepdogs and folks into boats and folks into football.

Creating mood means taking away everything that doesn’t support your thesis — your desired atmosphere. So if you’re trying to lean on the ancient quality of Donegal, you pull out the pop culture references, you pull out the grocery stores with the florescent lights. You pull out the sunny, hot days. You narrow the lens until all the things you point at agree with your mood.

You can add things back in, of course, if you’re trying to balance a contemporary fantasy — you put things back in to ground you and remind the reader when it really takes place. But I add them in judiciously, and when I do, I try to lean on the same language I’d use to describe the ancient and evocative stuff. It makes it feel of a piece.



applecakeandchainsaw  asked:

I wish you would write a fic where... Sean Kendrick is dead.

Em hwat the heck. (If you really want to hurt yourself, this can be taken as an AU of my domestic Kendricks series, diverging about a year after Alright Then occurs.) Accidentally started writing this in third person instead of first, so sorry if there are any glaring tense errors lol.

Written quickly, so sorry if the quality is a bit worse than normal. Under a cut bc it’s a little long.


I learn of Sean’s death just before sunset on the day of the races, when someone deigns to send Brian Carroll to my door because they finally thought I might want to know. I stayed home, this morning, unlike most race days, because Breda had spent the night throwing up and I spent the night by her side so Sean could sleep.

Corr has been restless all day, but he is always restless on the first of November, when the sea calls to him most strongly. But in hindsight, I wonder if he had somehow known. It sounds ridiculous, even within my own mind, but then again, no one had ever loved these monsters as Sean had. Perhaps, if Corr had loved Sean just as much in return, he would have known.

But I will truly never know, though all it takes is one look at Brian Carroll’s drawn face for me to understand why he is here. I reach out and steady myself on the door frame, gripping the wood so tightly that later, I will still have impressions of the grains on the palm of my hand. Breda is asleep in her room, too young for the island’s ways to make any sort of sense. I feels too young to make any sense of it either, that a man would gamble his life in such a way and lose, leaving a woman to explain to a little girl why her papa wasn’t coming home.

Morag was a good horse, Sean had always said, but she was a capall through and through, still as slippery and in love with the sea as the day he had caught her, even years later. I wish, desperately, he had never dredged her up on that moonless night.

“Kate,” Brian says, his voice as deep as the sea but much less treacherous, “I’m sorry.”

Keep reading

skatzaa  asked:

For the character thing: George Holly? 😆


2. Annie.

3. I rly love Holly and Sean teaming up over horses and just bonding in general. But also Holly coaxing Finn to spew his passions is sweeter than a november cake.

4. As much as I love precious november cake Holly I’m equally intrigued by shrewd business man Holly who wouldn’t be stopped by laws banning the export of capaill uisce. Does Holly have a dark past his cheerful demeanor keeps hidden??? Tell me your secrets George.

5. I want to know if he ever gets his half capaill colt! If he does what does he do with it?

anonymous asked:

help I just finished the raven cycle. now what??

i mean, firstly, mourn.  i cannot stress the importance of this step enough.  take the time to sob and rage and fall apart about the fact that you have finished this series that is just head and shoulders above nearly every other.  because that did happen and it does blow.  i suggest a lot of laying on the floor or under your bed, eating tacos, and being generally despondent.  also if you feel the need to wear black for a year or keep your curtains drawn 24/7, well, that’s totally acceptable.

once that’s done, we’re ready to reenter the literary world!  probably, and ish.  to help ease the transition, i would suggest trying to pinpoint what you most loved from that series and then working from there.  was it the fantasy elements, the characters, the lgbt-ness, the young adult-ness or just the straight-up pretty writing?  here are a few things that might help fill the void (though do recognize that none will be perfect and, factually, your life is just emptier now):


[admittedly, i do not have a lot of fantasy on my shelves because i need long breaks between for that genre, but here are a few of my more recent reads]

  • the scorpio races - going from maggie to maggie is never a bad idea.  i will concede that it took me way longer to get into this one than it did the raven cycle, but i did eventually get there and the characters were heaps more established (and rational) than what’s usually on offer in a YA read!
  • the grisha trilogy - okay, so i really got into this because it has such a well-drawn villain.  meaning: he’s fucking gray, like all good villains should be.  you can sympathize with him and i was surprised to find that i cared what happened to him, not just to our hero.  the story and characters were also really great.  and if you want to jump off this trilogy into the six of crows duology (LGBT+), my only advice would be: don’t let your expectations get too high.  unfortunately, i went in expecting it to be the raven cycle’s equivalent and, for me, it did not have that same depth.  good, for sure, but on trc’s level?  not so much, in my opinion, and i wish i’d known not to expect that going in because i feel like i would’ve enjoyed it more if i had.
  • the dream-quest of vellitt boe - lovecraft with laaaaadies.


  • mosquitoland - this book can be a little hard at times but, woooow, did i fall in love with mim.  this had just the right amounts of humor and heart for me.
  • station eleven -considering this jumps timelines and characters, it’s monumentally impressive that you can feel such a connection to and investment in everyone’s stories.


  • simon vs the homo sapiens agenda - this is cuuuuuuute and i just love everyone and want the absolute best for them because they so deserve it and it shook out just how i wanted it to.
  • a place called winter - this is another one that’s hard, but worth it, i think.  it’s a sweeping story, spanning decades and continents and hammering in the historical hardships that came from being any letter on the lgbt+ spectrum during the pioneer era.
  • the watchmaker of filigree street - historical fiction, in general, is pretty much a turn-off for me because it’s dense and overly drawn a lot of the time (i get it, it’s the 1800s, can we shut up about the details every three seconds please, UGH).  but if there were ever a book that was going to turn me completely around on that, it would be this one because WOW, YES.
  • flying lessons and other stories - a slew of sexually and racially diverse stories from some truly brilliant authors!
  • aristotle and dante discover the secrets of the universe - ohhhhh it’s pretty.  and soft.  and full of love and fear and understanding.  it hurts my heart with how tender it is.  [weeps]
  • idyll threats - you know how there are five million ‘cop/sheriff/detective in a small town’ mystery series that just go on and on forever and never end?  WELL NOW WE HAVE ONE FOR THE LBGT COMMUNITY.  the second book just came out last month and i want everyone to support these if you can; i want there to be so many i can’t count the number on my fingers and toes anymore, i want thomas lynch to be a friggin’ household name, i want a terrible movie franchise and an awkwardly posed poster on my wall, okay?  I WANT THIS TO BE A THING PLEASE.


  • the illuminae files - these books are dope.  they’re engaging not only story-wise but also visually, the text forms images, the fire fights are chaotic smashings of words, the space walks are delicate tight-ropes of sentences and then, on top of that, the characters and the twists and turns of the story?  oh my BUH-GOD.  this series is breath-takingly good and so freaking smart, okay?  it just is.  IT IS.
  • i’ll meet you there - i liked every single detail of this book and they’re all… still there.  i read this quite a bit ago and i remember so much of it.  i don’t remember what i had for lunch an hour ago but i remember this book.  so.  that’s pretty cool.
  • the merciless - all right, all right, all right, i have to qualify this.  because i was not a fan of the ending.  maybe you will be, i don’t know, i - personally - was not.  BUT everything leading up to that ending?  yeah huh!  it was some good-ass suspense.  as of right now, i’ve only read the first book of this series but… i think i am going to keep going with it.  it’s hard to get me to squirm but this book managed it and i think i have to chase that, right?


  • the secret history (LGBT+ minor character) - i said i would never recommend this book to people (it is long.  and dense.  and depressing) but, lookit, that turned out to be a fucking lie.  it feels historical even though it’s contemporary and it is such a complete story?  i mean, i know this story, i know these characters, i was thrust into those pages.  and i loved it.  if you need your characters to be likable though?  NOT the book for you, haha.
  • autopsy (LGBT+) - i read a fair amount of poetry these days.  i like very little poetry.  this?  this i liked a crap-ton.  donte collins is a friggin’ wordsmith, man.
  • the princess saves herself in this one - another poetry book i enjoyed!  i really love watching skilled people play with language, what can i say?
  • we were liars - okay, so, this is another odd one for me to recommend because… i did not like it.  like, at all.  i mean, i did like it a lot, and then the ending came and obliterated any positive thoughts i’d had about it (because i feel like it breaks the contract with the reader and that makes things just… not cool imo, but whatever).  HOWEVER i did find the writing really, really lovely.  it has a gorgeous, soothing flow to it.  and, again, some people may really like the ending and, in that case, this would be a super great book for you because the writing is really simple but nice, y’know?
  • american housewife - an awesome book of awesome short stories written very awesomely!
  • i’ll give you the sun (LGBT+) - the writing in this makes me want to fall to my knees with how good it is.  i just can’t.  i could go on and on for days.  it feels like it’s something that should’ve taken centuries to craft because it is so lovingly put together and it just–it makes you feel all the feels, okay.
  • everything i never told you (LGBT+ minor characters) - i like this book so much more in retrospect.  but it does the adult fiction thing that every fucking adult fiction book does and that made me so mad at the time.  but, beyond that, it’s a unique and well-told story!
  • things we lost in the fire - my favorite horror book i’ve read in a good long while.  mariana enriquez is a master at building up a creepy atmosphere.  it’s not gore and guts as much as it is a mounting sense of doom that’s entirely constructed through words and imagery that are so damn well-crafted.  really hoping for more english translations of her work because she is just so skilled a writer.
  • middlesex (LGBT+) - this took me a while to read because it is the very full history of three different generations of stephanides between those covers but, wow, is it well-written.  it’s moving and deep and winding and detailed and fucking worthwhile.

george holly & the sr malven (what’s his name? oh ya idc) are having a little tizzy and i don’t care why (something about george fucked his old gf???) and I’m not paying attention bc idc sooo I’m just going to pretend that george & sr malven fucked and someone didn’t stay for breakfast and now it’s Super Awkward


Your Capall Uisce


The story of how I caught Eitilt is not a glamorous one. It was an ugly, awkward, unsightly event that lasted altogether much longer than it ought have, with far too many spectators.

My parents had left already for their annual winter on the mainland:  five-and-a-half months of living with my brother Marshall and his wife in a house that had a heating system and in a town with real shops and jobs and things to do. The year before, they had brought me back a puppy. She was a white shepherd-type thing, too bumbling and fluffy for her own good, and I called her Scout. She was meant to keep me company on the island while my parents were away.

She was barking obnoxiously and incessantly at the waves rolling onto the sand - it was her first day at the beach, and she had absolutely no idea what to make of the surf. My parents’ house was far inland, almost smack in the middle of the island, and Scout had yet to make a beach trip until that day. That day, of course, was when the first of the capaill uisce had begun to break the ocean’s surface.

It was mid-afternoon, and the beach was crowded with boys hoping to wrangle in the first of the water horses. Men of all ages littered the sand, carrying eye-catching red ribbons and tack strung with iron and flowers. I was never sure how a few decorations were meant to make mounts of capaill uisce, but the men of Thisby interested in the capaill were nothing if not superstitious.

As I shouted myself hoarse at Scout, trying to get her to be quiet and leave the waves alone, the pair of us earned more than our share of disdainful eyes. A girl on the beach with capaill was strange and unwelcome enough - add in her overfaced one-year-old shepherd, and it was a wonder nobody carried us off the beach themselves. I finally managed to clip Scout’s leash onto the woven leather collar she wore and haul her away from the water. I tethered her precariously around a somewhat post-like rock and sat beside her, intending to wait out the crowd and try the water again when there were fewer witnesses. We watched the men pace the beach, chattering loudly in the wind, until a crest in the waves caught their attention.

Now, I had seen the capaill uisce before. Years ago, before he married my stepmother, my father used to catch them and ride in the races. When I was young, he had a bright bay stallion that did fairly well, and he always swore that with more training, he’d be a champion. The year they came second was the year he met my stepmother, and the next week, the uisce stallion was gone. I watched the races the year after that, mostly out of spite, and it became a habit. I was used to the horses; accustomed to their noises, their movements, their attitudes. In my mind, I thought I understood them.

The darkish blur in the waves became larger, and suddenly, a massive, dappled black capall uisce was climbing out of the surf and cantering erratically across the beach. It was a mare, taller than a rowboat was long, and a deep dark color with sunbleached dapples and an oblong face marking. Her long, curving ears were also tinged with the reddish hue of sunbleach, as if someone had dipped them in red clay. I wanted to call her black, but that wasn’t quite it - she had the depth and hue of something else.

About twenty of the men immediately surrounded her in a large semi-circle, holding their various horse-hunting devices and making their clucking sounds. Scout started up her barking again, straining madly at her leash. I busied myself with hushing her as one of the men got a rope around the capall’s neck. Another caught her hind foot in a loop, and she began to struggle violently against the pressure, kicking with her tethered foot as powerfully as she could. But it seemed the men had her, and she put her foot on the ground, apparently resigned.

And then Scout began to howl. The instant the sound erupted from her gangly white form, the mare made a horrible keening and whipped around to stare at the source of the noise. I froze, praying Scout would have enough sense to recognize a predator when she saw one, and gripped her leash with all my strength. The mare, excited at the prospect of a meal, made a motion quite unlike any I had seen a horse make before. She reared, twisted, and then leaped into the air so far I thought she may just stay there. In mid-leap, she lashed out with her hind legs, jerking the rope tied to her hind leg out of the hands of the ugly little man that held it. When her hooves returned to the sand, the men were stunned, and she took off at a racing gallop, shaking off her restraints and heading straight for where Scout and I stood.

With her leash in my hands, I dove for the rocks, hauling Scout behind me. I did my best to clamber up a few, but with the dead weight of a large shepherd tied to my arm, I made it halfway up a boulder before the capall uisce was on top of us.

Scout was tucked between two rocks, so the mare pawed aggressively at the stone to try to reach her. I think I was probably screaming. There were several men running toward us, but there was a lot of beach between them and where my dog and I were about to be dismembered by a capall.

In my blind, panicked state, I managed to release Scout’s collar from her leash. With the mare in front of me tearing at rocks to get to Scout, I took the leash in both hands and leaped. My flailing arms connected with solid muscle, and I wrapped them around the horse’s neck with a vice-like grip. Agitated, she reared, and as she did I began to slip down her shoulder. I threw the leash around her neck and hauled with all my might as my feet landed in the sand. Bracing my heels, I dug in and held onto the tether, my arms beginning to shake with the sheer mass and power of the water horse.

The mare began to spin toward me, and in a flash, I shoved the end of the leash through its wrist-sized loop and pulled. The leash created a slipknot that shrunk around the mare’s neck, and she backed up quickly in an attempt to escape the mounting pressure on her throat. Somehow, I continued to hold on, faced with a vicious game of tug-of-war as the mare continued to struggle.

Scout had now wriggled herself free of the crack she had slipped in, and bounded toward the mare with her hackles raised, barking and growling as fiercely as her little body allowed. As she passed, I remembered her collar. I risked a hand and caught the woven leather, pulling it over Scout’s head. With only one hand on the leash, I was losing ground fast, and the mare was getting excited. I twisted the collar in my free hand, jumped forward, and threw it over the capall’s muzzle. Her jaws snapped shut and she shook her head, yanking me off my feet and swinging me into the air. But with one hand still gripping the leash around her neck, I pulled the two together and clipped the end of the leash to the ring on the collar, fixing the mare’s head in place.

Trapped, the uisce mare stilled. But for the swishing of her tail and the angry pinning of her ears, she stood, defeated, roped by a dog’s leash and collar, and a small girl hanging from it. By now most of the beach’s crowd had gathered, and a majority of the men were shouting at me to turn her over to them or let her go, back to the sea she came from.

But I caught her. That means she’s mine now, right? I stared into the mare’s eerie dark eyes, weighing my options. But my mind flashed back to that move she pulled to escape her attackers and hunt down her lunch; I had never seen a horse move like that before. If she could do that, what else could she do?

I whistled to Scout and gathered the leash in my hand. Waving to the men, I turned away from the beach and began to lead the flying mare home.

Zodiac As Cliche Movie Tropes
  • Aries: girl is pissed at her parents and rides an injured/hopeless horse in rebellion and wins a race
  • Taurus: lazy unemployed guy with a sense of humor and a heart of gold
  • Gemini: "that's not my dream, dad.... it's yours"
  • Cancer: character killed off to fuel man angst OR protagonist of YA dystopian film
  • Leo: supervillain who reveals plan to captured superhero and ends up failing because of it
  • Virgo: chaotic neutral 90's movie hacker
  • Libra: "wow.... you... you look great"
  • Scorpio: shady morally grey leader who hides important information from everyone but overall has good intentions
  • Sagittarius: teenage coming-of-age protagonist who seeks adventure and ends up falling in love with a manic pixie dream girl
  • Capricorn: edgy, sharp minded femme fatale with no emotions
  • Aquarius: first to die, probably someone's sister
  • Pisces: manic pixie dream girl that sagittarius falls in love with