// unless you’ve been following me since the beginning, these color pallets might weird you out.
Actually, this might be the debut of my ginger Huck to the internet world.
but anyway, since lambormaam and I were talking about it, these are as close to what I can remember of my “original” designs for Tom & Huck.
Think: generic pack of crayola marker shades of orange/yellow headed scribbles.
I used to draw them all the time in 3rd grade—so much in fact my teacher called home and got me in trouble because I kept doodling them on my homework. (
Also Link from Legend of Zelda and a bunch of dogs… I doodled a lot.)
Yet another of these crazy references and needles are indeed the cruelty of adults
Please stop making such sad headcanons about master Sawyer; that lost shoes one nearly made me weep uncontrollably.
// I’m sorry, I tend to have a grim sense of humor. How about some happier-ish headcanons to balance it out?
From the same book, Ozark Magic and Folklore:
If two friends are walking side by side, and “unthoughtedly” allow a tree to come between them, it means that they will have a serious quarrel soon. One way to break this spell is for both parties to cry instantly and in concert “Bread-and-Butter!”
Now we all know Tom and Huck are in sync enough to accomplish this—but imagine one time they screw it up—Huck probably said it two seconds too slow—and that was the instigator of their “quarrel.”
They of course got over it later, and assumed that the worst was behind them. From then on, they are extremely vigilant about trees coming between them.
While Huck was busy backing up the prince’s argument, the boy used this time to pick himself back up, only to pause in mid-rise when Huck had knocked their friend back over. Leon waited for Huck to make another move, or tell him how they were going to handle Tom. He was speechless at Huck’s command and watched as he took off, leaving the small boy with the dead one.
"Oh…" he wasn’t at all sure of this plan, but…somehow dumb ideas seemed to have pretty helpful results so far. A gargled moan sounded off from the fallen body before him, the prince straightened up, startled and dreaded watching the sickly boy struggle to his feet. If the prince didn’t know any better, he would believe it was Tom’s corpse that continued to animate despite lack of real life. But that was silly, wasn’t it?
Tom was now standing as upright as he could get, the prince could see the white eyes staring back lifelessly at him, but he flinched at what appeared to be a snarl directed at him, as if it was he who pushed him down and not Huck. The older boy must have been out for whatever body he was up against, the prince needed to act quickly.
"Alright then," Leon gulped,"come on Tom." The body stumbled towards him, the prince backed away as he could see he had increased his speed,"We can play tag, and you are the tagger.” The prince was off, and before long, the one-armed body was charging after.
As small legs jumped over roots and golden head ducked under shades of leaves, the prince could hear his follower stumbling after, tripping over roots but quickly getting back up and barreling right through bushes. He was quite determined to catch the smaller boy, but the prince kept his distance, all the while checking to see he was still being followed.
Huckleberry ran as fast as the dark landscape would allow him. After seeing the worst of Tom’s condition he knew a “bathtism” would be only about as effective as a prayer to which he rerouted his tactics to the superstitions he was brought up to and knew best.
But that meant it required more than just a little water. So he hightailed it around to his local haunts to collect a range of things he’d hidden figuring they would come in handy some day. Just silently wishing that the handiness wasn’t going to be tested on his best friend. His faith in the cure would be tested, too, but he refused to admit he was at a loss for ideas. He filled a ragged sheet with dried roots and oils, and threw in an old dented teapot for good measure.
He remembered Leon, and hoped he was doing well at faring against Tom in such a state. Normally, he’d be certain Tom could outrun the smaller boy—but he was sick, so he must have had a fighting chance.
Finally, with everything collected, he hauled the sheet down to the riverside where he last seen Tom and the prince. Noting a lost limb, he added that to the bag without much thought and continued up river—not to find his friends, just yet, but hopefully with his speed and knowledge of the landscape he’d pull on ahead of both of them and meet them at an abandoned raft near the edge of town.
It was perfectly hidden, at least to those who didn’t know about it. Huck threw his things on board and kept a sharp lookout for little prince’s starlight approaching. A faint anxiety crept in that he may have missed both of them and they were already on ahead further upriver. He let off a loud whistle and hollered for reassurance—
“Leon! Over here!”
Headcanon: Lost Shoes
// I’m digging through this book, Ozark Magic and Folklore, with Lamb and we’re joking about this one passage:
For a baby to lose a shoe is regarded as a very serious matter, and all the people in the house drop their other affairs to hunt for it. Sometimes men are even called in from the fields to help. If the shoe is not found, it is a sure sign that somebody in the family will die.
These are probably the events leading up to Tom’s father’s death.
And carries over into a superstitious reason for why Tom never wears shoes unless he absolutely has to (basically forced to).
It’s the principle of the thing. You don’t wear shoes, you can’t lose them.
But he give up the civil war, and it is one of the brightest things to his credit. And he could a had it easy enough if he had sejested it, anybody can see it now. And it don’t seem right and fair that Harriet Beacher Stow and all them other second-handers get all the credit of starting that war and you never hear Tom Sawyer mentioned in the histories ransack them how you will, and yet he was the first one that thought of it. Yes and years before ever they had the idea.
—Mark Twain, Tom Sawyer’s Conspiracy
A St. Petersburg Housecall (RP with tomsawyr)
The boy looked down and nervously tugged at one of his coat buttons. He couldn’t respond to the Doctor’s question. To say he understood was to admit he was doing something wrong before—to admit he was one of those awful racist people. Shame committed him to silence.
The boy’s lack of response meant that the lecture had hit home. Ten sighed. “—Well then, boy-o. I take it you get it. Well, now you can go back and maybe change things for the better, right?”
He knew the boy would try to change things. Got the feeling he’d support the Union in 1860-something. He had hope for Tom Sawyer.
”I suppose…” He mumbled. He didn’t want to go back at all after this.
For once Tom had no idea where to start as far as revolutionary tendencies go. A misanthropic notion suggested the only way any change could happen was if the country violently ripped itself in half.
But somehow it happened. Some hundreds of years ahead of him would prove that, and it was enough to give the boy a faint optimism. He could finally look the Doctor in the eye and attempted a smile though it wasn’t much of one. Despite the nervousness that couldn’t melt away, Tom was ready to see this grand future—2014.
"Oh, hang it—now, who told you these lies?” Tom huffed, good spirits turned to annoyance.
It was a tiresome argument on his end, mostly because he could never argue with adults who perpetuated this belief—they’d only lick him when they saw he had a good point. But Leon was worth the pain of reformation.
"You’ve met Huck Finn, haven’t you?" he began with an example he knew best, "Why, he’s the biggest liar in the world and I’d trust him with anythin’ no if’s and’s or but’s. When I need a friend and comrade the most, I go to Huck Finn becuz I know he ain’t never goin’ to betray me."
"Meanwhile, my brother Sid," the boy’s tone darkened, "well, he never lies (‘least not to Aunt Polly anyway) and look how well we get along! His truths make my siti’ations worse—I can’t trust him worth a darn!”
Tom sighed, abandoning his frustrations; this was not the time to go ranting on a tangent. He took a moment to gather his thoughts again and bring them all into a central point—
"That is to say, you can’t tell all truth and j’st the same you can’t tell all lies. There’s an art to it. You tell a lie the right way, it won’t do no damage to nobody.”
"—n’ that’s all truth!”
Admittedly, the prince was suspicious of Tom’s argument, that was until he recalled the two examples from previous encounters. He never really held a real conversation with Sid, but from what he’s observed from the interactions between him and Tom it was always he who would get Tom in trouble for a mysterious gain that almost looked like it was out of his own pleasure—at least from the prince’s perspective. And Huck…well, Huck was kind enough to help him just for the fact that the prince was a friend of Tom’s. It was obvious whom out of the two was loyal, and the prince had to agree with Tom on this argument—despite the fact he had little knowledge on the younger brother.
'Trust does not always depend on truth…’
"…you are very strange, Tom Sawyer."
"I think you have confused me, but I suppose it is nice to know that there are lies that would not hurt anyone. I would certainly not want to hurt my loyal knight—or any of my friends, really."
"Well then, you won’t, if it ain’t your intention. If it does happen on accident you can be honest and most folks’ll forgive you when they see it meant no harm—but don’t go tryin’ that in politics.”
Tom stood and dusted himself off, then offered a friendly hand to help the prince up as well. He didn’t care much that the younger boy was confused, that was easy to accomplish. He’ll get it sooner or later.
// died in the river—I feel like that’s a fitting end
// we’re going whole hog now—ain’t got nothin’ to lose
"You can’t go—you’re all I got left!"
// CHOLERA, EXHAUSTION, AND A BROKEN ARM.
DOCTOR. YOU NEED A DOCTOR.