Age Meme

[carnagecarnival]

~Age Change Meme~

 

1. Your character has been brought back/drank some magic potion/awoken as a different age!
2. Are they younger? Older? Tiny? Ancient? Can they remember everything before, have they forgotten completely, or are they in some foggy in-between? What are they like now if any different at all?
3. Post with your characters! Add prompts or just simply talk about them!
4. Pictures can be thrown in too if there are any at all!
5. Tag each other and thread things out! Did you ever want to see if someone was a bratt when they were young or if they ever matured? Now you can!
6. Have fun!
Bonus Alt Gif:

 

Comments

Initiate [Placeholder comment]

[carnagecarnival]

Prompty fun

[carnagecarnival]

Option A: [Ragtag Clown Kid. See: here, here, here, & here]

The boy is small, small in height, small in weight. A puff of middling-length curly dark hair slapped on a bony, twiglike body. Horns sprout from his head, much smaller than anyone will have seen, only one small wave to their shape and no more than that. The dark circumspect clothes he wears-- a tunic and some torn up dotted pants-- are too big for his form, something stylist may be sure to change if this lasts longer than a few hours.

As of now, he's peeking around the corner, staring with wide, sharp eyes. There's a very familiar pattern on his face, done with a significantly less amount of finesse, but familiar all the same. He doesn't so much as twitch, just watches.

Option B: [The Old Man. See: here, here, here, & here Guess who became a 1000+ year old war lord king. Caution adivsed, warning for awful.]

Peacekeepers stand at attendant, four in sight, maybe more out of sight. There are thick cuffs on each large wrist, on each ankle, each one chained together. There is one more on his neck, and in each a needle put into skin that can't be seen, should he make that one wrong move. But he doesn't. He sits there, cross legged on the floor and looming still over any standing individual.

His hair hangs as a fountain around his mountainous form. There's a sickening smile on his face like he knows he could break the cuff with just a flick of his wrists. He watches them all like they're going to entertain him, or already are. The only evidence to his true mood is the glow of red through his bangs, surrounding deep, solid indigo. Capitol made a mistake here and it was only a matter of time before it was "fixed". Still enough time to converse.

There's only one singular displaced piece and it's the lack of color on the wall behind him.

Option C: [The Fat Bug Baby just in case someone wanted to ask. See: here, here, here, here, & here]

The bug creature with the humanoid face is just short the size of one's forearm. It is fuzzy, squishy, and has eyes solid indigo with the tiniest of horns already formed. It settles on the border of unnervingly creepy and adorably cute. It squeaks and chitters and... honks. Loud enough that anyone near enough could hear.

Option D: other??

natasha romanova

[assassinat]

[ Probably looks very much the same. Refer to the icon as to why. ]

The Signless

[69problems]

Signless is a literal breadloaf of grub, with a bright red body and bright red eyes and truly miniscule horns. He can't speak yet, so his vocalizations are mostly hisses and chirps and purrs. Also, don't let his pudge or his tiny little legs fool you -- he can zoom pretty fast when he wants.

Kidless & Kidgh special, back when friendships (sorry cutie grub bab, another time)

[carnagecarnival]

He barely keeps from letting the fear overwhelm. He can't get his power to work for some reason, can't feel the people even thought they're all around, smiling at him with too many teeth. The fear is only in his head and in there it screams.

He walks the tower, trying to get away from everyone. Surely there must be a place to hide? Or even better, a way out, escape back to home it must be somewhere.

He hasn't even his clubs. There's too many people. He's not sure he can win if he gets pulled into a fight. But there's one person who would be even worse off and his breath catches with he spots him. This is the second time he's caught him in a crowd, danger impending, but this time, there's a relief. He runs to the boy with the bright veins and softness.

"Kankri! Kankri! Brother best!"

Rosalind Lutece

[dotsanddashes]

[She's aware she's aged down. And she's not happy about being ten years old again.]

Kevin

[asmilinggod]

[Kevin is 13 years old, his memory of being older is gone...but he does know something terrible is going to happen to him and his brother. He's not as smiley as he is when he's older, that's for sure.

Also, anyone who interacts with him is bound to notice the blind cane. Also the absence of blood, eye-voids (instead his eyes are a milky whitish color), and altered grin.]

Re: Kevin

[carnagecarnival]

[Kurloz sees... a boy. Maybe his age, maybe a little older. When he sees the cane, he doesn't associate blindness, but a weapon. This strange not-troll is ready to strife where he most certainly is not.

Hiding place or not, the boy is getting a little too close for comfort. So, he does something stupid. He tries to bluff.]

Stay back brother! Unto thine self shall be an unleashing of motherfucking things what would not be liked!

Sigma Klim

[twoklimmen]

Sigma Klim is certainly easier on the eyes these days. With no cybernetic enhancements to speak of, he's a far cry from his older self, in both looks and personality. Six feet of hyperactive boyish energy and a preference towards crude humour, he has a habit of acting significantly younger than his 22 years. There have been no death games, apocalypses, or injuries to mellow him out, at least until the next Arena hits...

Certainly, this Sigma remembers his time here - but only vaguely, enough to remind him which of the Tributes are important to him. The rest is guesswork... how the hell his older self was able to corral so many bloodthirsty teenagers is completely beyond his understanding. The adverts were right to mock him... What is he supposed to do with them now?! He won't be a parent for another good twenty three years.

Re: Sigma Klim

[carnagecarnival]

He spots the dark hair, curling a bit, not all unlike his. But trolls don't get a family with other trolls, lest they be of the carnival, or someone got to counting them all as family. And he's an adult. That's a big no right all there.

But still something draws him closer, like the way the ocean pulled when he didn't think better of its current. So he keeps low, lightly crouched, crawling where he needs to. If he's seen he's dead, if he's heard he's dead. But he has to get closer and so closer he gets, wide eyes still grey set in yellow, not a trace of indigo to be seen yet.

Re: Sigma Klim

[gardienne]

Eponine's a far cry from herself as well. At only seven years old, her cheeks are plump and rosy, her eyes sparkle and her carefully curled hair shines. On her head sits a dear, blue velvet bonnet, and on her face, she wears a frown.

Slowly, she approaches the young man, holding out an old, battered doll.

"Don't I know you, Monsieur? Do you drink with my daddy? Somebody's broken my doll and I know who it was. It was that brat, Cosette." She points imperiously into the distance.

Baby Joly!

[medecin]

Joly is about eight or nine, and a wheezing, snotty (in both senses of the word), spoiled little brat. He's spent most of his time indoors at home being indulged by his parents, grandma, and little sister. He's not immune to exaggerating illness in order to get something he wants, but generally a smile manages to do that pretty well for him.

He tends to charming, rather than tantrums thankfully, is a little snarky, though he's not discovered the pun yet, and he has no idea what the hell is going on. At the moment, he's probably coughing into a lacy hanky that actually belongs to his sister, but since they share initials, no one needs to know that. And he's looking rather terrified as he's glancing around. Come deal with him?

[gruesome]

Some, at four, is a gawky adolescent of a grue, a gangling bony creature only a little bigger than a large dog, close to the same height as Joly. Or he might be, if he were on the floor, standing on all fours. Instead of crouching in the upper corner of the room, two feet braced on the door frame and another finding purchase on a bit of trim.

"... Are you sick?" he asks, looking at the little human upside down.

[tenthstreet]

A thirteen year old Shepard would answer to neither Jane, nor Shepard. So far as she knows, she's just 'Red', an uncreative name if there ever was one, but just the same it's hers and it works well enough for the job. Her eyes no longer glow, her hair is long, unkempt, and she's not only shorter than ever, she's filthy. What hasn't changed?

Well, for one thing, she's still mean little cuss of a girl. Approach at your own risk.

[carnagecarnival]

There's the place where all he hides. There's a door. And close to it, a bunch of food. A whole lot of unguarded food. And then... there's her up in the middle. Not a troll, he doesn't know how strong she is. She's got hair all orange-red-brown, but not maroon. It's bright but not the same as his best brother's blood is to be. What does that mean? He doesn't know, but he's about to find out.

He settles low, watching for the right moment. Three, two, one... He springs out, snarls loud at her, showing all this teeth, and throwing a honk in, ideally to startle her and get her to back off. Then he runs for the food left up on that table-counter. A perfect plan. Couldn't possibly fail.

[void_whereprohibited]

Cecil is fourteen years old - skinny and gawky, almost always dressed in colors that are all technically in fashion, but none of which quite complement each other. His voice is only just starting to get serious about the whole dropping thing, but that won't keep him from talking! He's just started the coolest internship with Celebrus-- he signed up to assist some tech guy in the broadcasting department, so it's not, like, glamorous or anything, but he'll be on the set! ...or near it, anyway! He could totally run into Tiberius Filmore, or maybe even a Tribute! Oh, man, how awesome would that be?

His mother has been acting a little weird lately - her disappearances have started getting... longer. Days instead of hours. And she seems kind of preoccupied even when she is at home. But-- well, adults have a lot of things to worry about, so he's just been trying to help out at home as much as he can, and not ask questions (because she gets really worried when he asks questions), and do well at his internship so she'll have a reason to be proud of him.

Memory-wise, he's in a foggy in-between; he doesn't remember any recent events, and isn't aware that his family will disappear within the year, but he sees little contradiction between the current state of the Games and the ones that he would actually remember from twenty years ago.

...But man, is he ever excited about them! Do you want to see his collection of Victor action figures? He has all of them from the last ten years except one of them, they don't make her anymore-- but check it out! They even all say their final words from the Arena! Aren't the faces realistic? You can totally imagine them, weapons held aloft, every exhausted muscle straining in the desperate hope that this stroke, this expenditure of the last of their waning strength, will finally make an end of the nightmare that is etched into their faces and that bleeds from their every open wound--

--Sorry. He can go on a little bit sometimes. But-- they're so cool, right?

[asmilinggod]

[There is a little boy nearby - tapping his way along with a blind cane, messy blonde hair tossed in front of his eyes. He doesn't appear to notice Cecil, of course, but he seems to be looking for SOMETHING.

Tap tap tap. Where is it?]

C'mon, c'mon....

Jessica Wakefield

[sweetvalleygirl]

Who doesn't want to deal with sixteen year old Jessica?

Terezi Pyrope

[pythianjudgment]

There's a small troll child, a little under four feet tall. She stares around with wide grey eyes and an awareness of her surroundings that you won't find in a human's eight-year-old child. She's significantly less of a pest than her older self, but only because she's more concerned with her immediate survival than with getting under everyone's skin.

Re: Terezi Pyrope

[carnagecarnival]

Another troll. Finally another troll. Not a seadweller, no fins or gils. No facepaint; lower than indigo. He might be able to take this one. The question is if her lusus is near. He can't see one around, but maybe...

The moment she gets too close he growls in warning.

[youbarium]

A -- 15

Carlos's hair is still perfect. It has always been perfect. It will always be perfect. When the sun swallows the Earth and what is left of both collapses into an unfeeling, gaseous cloud, when the universe at last grows dark and cold, Carlos's hair will still be perfect. Except instead of handsome-and-distinguished-intellectual perfect, it's teen-movie perfect, sweeping back gracefully over his ears and framing his angular face. He isn't wearing a lab coat -- unless he's doing a presentation in chemistry today, of course. Or they're supposed to do an experiment. Or he can think of any other excuse. Anyway, he just might still be in a lab coat, and is definitely in jeans, but instead of practical, down-to-earth plaid flannel, Carlos is wearing a dorky science t-shirt over his skinny teenage torso. His high tops have the radioactive warning symbol drawn on them in red sharpie marker, and his glasses are truly atrocious.

He's probably building something. Or exploring somewhere. Or building something he's planning to take with him on one of his explorations. It's all for science, of course.

B -- 50

Older Carlos is chill. He's seen a lot. A lot. Hardly anything surprises him anymore, except for when everything surprises him, because that's the nature of the universe. Everything about everything is wondrous and remarkable and worth writing down, but perhaps not right now. Perhaps in a bit. After all, time is subjective, and even when it's measured objectively it's elastic, so when you take that into consideration, it's really not a big deal if he waits to do science until after he's finished his coffee.

C -- 8

Carlos is curled up in the corner with one of those giant picture books. You know, the ones with lots and lots of labeled diagrams of dinosaurs, or the solar system, or rocket ships, or different kinds of rocks? Yeah. He's a precious-looking kid, all big dark eyes and messy curls. Anyway, he's away from the action, off to the side, and he periodically has to push his glasses back up his face -- they keep slipping down his nose.

C

[pythianjudgment]

Terezi isn't keen on being in the center of the action, either. She would much rather skirt along the edges of the room and keep out of sight. It's been part of her survival instinct since she was a little grub, and it's served her pretty well til now.

However, she does find that she's not alone in her avoidance. There's a little... something. A pink fleshy thing with curly dark hair and dorky glasses. (At least, she thinks they're dorky because they are clearly not stylish or cool.) The troll child frowns at the human child, peering over him to look at what he's reading. Nothing immediately interesting to her--not as much as the strange child, at least.

"What are you supposed to be?"

Bitty Brainy

[googledox]

Brainiac 5 is bitty thing at age eleven, and that means the seriousness that marks his tiny face is an odd thing to see on the face of a child. Between his solemn demeanor and the lab coat he's procured that's a little too big for him, he gives the impression of a child playing dress up at being an adult.

It's too sincere, though. The seriousness is very real and clearly he's a child that feels childhood doesn't apply to him. He doesn't give off the impression that he even knows how to play. Instead, he gives the impression that there isn't a bit of mirth in his soul.

He vaguely remembers his later life and why he's in Panem, but not enough to pay it much mind.

A tablet is in his hand, one he's using to mostly ignore everyone, but he grabs the nearest person and gestures to the Peacekeepers that brought him into the room.

"These imbeciles won't show me to a lab and are forcing me to socialize." He lets out a long-suffering little sigh. "I'm fairly sure I'd rather be put to death via some form scaphism in the arena than have to talk to you apes, but seeing as I'm being forced to, talk at me for several minutes while I nod and pretend I care about what you have to say."

[asklepian]

There was someone talking to Jules, using large words that he couldn't understand--someone with green skin like...an Orion? He wasn't sure, but he thought that was the word that described someone that was green. Whoever they were, they were talking to him, and touching him, and his manner was not exactly the most comforting to a small, shy, awkward child that can't quite parse what's going on around him.

Jules just looks at him with large, confused, dark brown eyes and clutches closer the toy bear he'd been given (which he didn't recall the name for, he could only define it as not-Kukalaka.)

Some ovMennet

[gruesome]

Youth:

Four years old and just past the cusp of adolescence, Some loves nothing more than climbing. Floors and the ground are for mushroom-heads and babies. Thin as a stick-insect, finally growing out his downy baby fur in scruffy patches, he spends every waking moment trying to climb the sheerest surfaces around. He can find purchase on just about anything shy of glass, with forty-eight fingers to hold up his slight weight.

Can't find him? Just look up.

Age:

Some was never sure what to expect of old age, after so long among the humans, being toyed with like they'd all been by the process that brought them back over and over again. It gave him years, he guessed. He had no real way to count, but he estimated he'd been in Panem nearly eight years when his eyes began to go dark, pair by pair. That would make him just over twenty-two. His fur had grown in white along his shoulders, down his spine, in the fringe of his tail. Twenty-two was two whole years older than any grue he'd ever known. And he wasn't dead yet. He didn't plan to be soon, either. But just in case, he made sure to never be alone.

[asmilinggod]

Kevin hasn't changed much with time.

The years passed, and he stayed more or less the same - presumably through some Strex engineering - except for the way he thought. His mind has slowly become more his own the longer he spent as a Tribute, the chip becoming a fainter influence......but the cost has been his memory. It jumps in bits and pieces. Sometimes he remembers himself well. Sometimes he doesn't.

He remembers Some, though.

"Hello, friend."

Elsa of Bittydelle

[wantedtobuildone]

[Oh look, it's a little Elsa- six or seven, she isn't very big. Her hair is in it's familiar braid, but that's about the only thing you might think if familiar. There's a light to her eyes that isn't there as an adult, for she's from before the traumatic events that caused her to shut herself out from the world.

She seems quite intrigued as she roams the tribute center, the technology completely foreign to her.]

Re: Elsa of Bittydelle

[googledox]

Brainiac 5 is Elsa in reverse. Unlike her, he's more callous and cold as a child, and the light that's in his eyes as an adult is not there. He's a miserable cuss of a child with cold, empty eyes and face that's typically either devoid of emotion or pinched into a sneer.

He's a hollow shell that's yet to be filled.

"Oh, it's you. Isn't it? Your hair is the same."

Not much else is but he figures it's more likely someone he met is now young like him rather than some new child showing up.

His voice is condescending as he speaks to her only because it's always condescending, not because he has any particular feelings of disdain for her, but the tone is easy to mistake for more targeted disgust.

He knows her. He's been experiencing the vaguest flashes of recognition as he wanders around the Tribute Tower. His adult life and everything he's experienced here are very fuzzy but he still recognizes some people.

The green boy adjusts his lab coat fastidiously.

"You're not going to be as dramatic now as you were when I met you before, are you? I'm not in the mood to coddle you again."

It isn't what his older self felt. His older self had wanted to ease someone else's distress. His older self had wanted to help her find her strength. What his older self had felt was compassion and empathy and a bit of commiseration over feeling like a monster.

Young Brainiac (not Brainy, he had no nickname until he had actual friends to give him one) is incapable of compassion or proper empathy.

After all, he can't imitate sentiments that no one's ever shown him.

Clara Murphy

[seestheman]

Option A (8)
Clara is eight and three-quarters years old, which is much closer to nine, thank you very much. She's bossy, hates hearing the word 'no,' and is kind of a brat. Her two favorite things in the whole wide world (at the moment) are playing baseball with her Little League team and climbing on the jungle gym at school. Currently, she's probably either trying to instigate a game of some sort because she's bored or is doing something that's getting her underfoot.

Option B (19)
Clara is less of a bossy brat, but is still painfully stubborn. She's a sophomore at Wayne State University and is balancing trying to get a degree in elementary education, life in a sorority, and working as a barista at a local coffee shop. Within her circle of friends she's known as a notorious flirt and a smartass. Much like her older self was at first, she's convinced that this is all some really messed up dream that her midterm soaked brain has cooked up.

Option C (52)
This Clara is older and wiser, both in general and when it comes to how life in Panem works, which makes sense because she's been here for 18 years. In that time she's seen a handful of arenas (all of which she would love to forget), the fall of one regime and the rise of another, and more than her fair share of suffering. There's an air of weariness to her, though it's hard to tell if that's from seeing so much happen in almost 20 years, taking in and raising a gaggle of war orphans, or if it's just from age. Slightly less noticeable is a trace of bitterness that she does her best to hide, mostly stemming from the fact that she never got to go home and that, to the best of her knowledge, her son probably grew up thinking she had died.

Option D
Mentally Clara is the same as she usually is, only now she looks like she's either 8 or 19, which is disconcerting to say the least.

Bab clara for Initiate

[carnagecarnival]

He's no jungle gym of course. He is a troll. A living troll who doesn't tend as to anticipate being climbed on.

But he's seven feet with a long swaying braid and has "handles" on the top of his head. Temptation awaits.

And it awaits whilst sitting in a couch, a book in hands and all concentration glued to it.

Red Sonja

[shedevilwithsword]

You have...

Lil' Sonja and...

Teen Sonja.

[gunshiptotheface]

[A. Garrus at age 9 is curious about everything, wandering around and looking at things, and trying to find someone who looks like someone he knows to ask where he is. He's quite small for his age, barely scraping four feet tall and wide eyed with a short still growing fringe, he's much more adorable than his adult self.

B. A hot shot teenager, at 16 and fresh out of basic training, He has merits as a sharpshooter and the attitude to back him up. ]