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prodigal-explorer · 11 months

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how to write children's personalities

(this is part of my series, how to write children in fanfiction! feel free to check it out if you want more info like this!)

this is the main aspect of writing children that i see people mess up so often, especially in the fandoms i'm in (sanders sides and undertale). children are not adorable little noodles with no brains and no concept besides being cute and silly and crying. children are beings that are just as complex as adults, and they deserve personalities to match. this will make them way more interesting to read about! let's get started!

since there are so many aspects to personality to talk about and i don't want to sit here typing for ten years, we're going to do this guide a little differently. i'm going to divide these issues into archetypes, write a short description, and then make a list of do's and don't's for each one!

archetype one: the cute little baby

okay. babies are cute. we all know this, and i'm not saying it's a bad thing to make your babies cute. a lot of people love reading about moments with adorable little babies. but here are some ways to step this kind of thing up, and some things to avoid if you want to improve upon writing this archetype.

do's:

give the child character another archetype besides this one. though "cute" is the foundation for a lot of child characters, it's not a personality. and if a character is vital to your story, then it needs a personality. that's just a rule. you will read more about other archetypes further along in this post!

make the moments symbolic. though it doesn't seem like it from an outsider's perspective, basically everything a baby does is for a reason, and every action a baby makes can say something about their personality. if you want this baby's personality to be energetic and curious, have them crawl around and explore things, and laugh a lot, and babble. if you want this baby to be more sullen and shy, have them cry quietly instead of wailing, or have them squirm when being held by new people.

make the actions of the baby's guardians affect the mannerisms of the baby. babies act differently depending on how the people taking care of them act and react. for instance, if the baby's guardians are very busy people, then maybe have the baby cry very loudly whenever they want something, since they know that it's the only way to get the attention of their guardians. stuff like that can add depth to a character and to a general story.

don't's:

decide that the baby is cute and call it a day. sweet little babies are cool and all, but they get very boring to read about after a while. this can barely even be considered an archetype because of how bland it is when it's by itself.

keep this archetype around for too long. as babies turn into toddlers and then children, they don't act even remotely the same way. it's strange and off-putting to read about a seven year old acting like a two-year old, unless it's a very clear character choice that is a result of explicit actions and events.

make the baby know that it's cute. realistically, children don't understand the concept of cuteness until they're around toddler age. if then, you want to make the kid be like "i get what i want when i'm cute, so i'll act cute!", then sure, that's hilarious. but when they're two months old, they're not batting their eyelashes because that's their personality. they're batting their eyelashes because they got something in their eye. the main thing that makes a baby cute is that they don't know they're cute. they're just figuring out how to do ordinary things.

make everything a cute moment. while babies are awesome, raising them isn't always sunshine and rainbows. make the baby do something wildly chaotic, because babies do wildly chaotic things all the time. not only does this make things more realistic, but it makes things very interesting!

archetype two: the shy kid

as a former shy kid, i know good and well that these types of children exist, and they are very real and valid. however, there are certain ways i've seen them written that are just terrible because once again, this archetype cannot be considered a full personality on its own. let's get into the do's and don't's.

do's:

make their shyness a deliberate choice. kids aren't usually naturally shy. kids are usually more curious than cautious. is there a reason why the kid is shy? there doesn't have to be a reason why the kid is shy, but there could be a reason why the child is NOT outgoing/curious. try and give something like this some deliberate cause, instead of just making them shy so they can seem more precious and infantilized.

make their shyness manifest in diverse ways. not all shy kids cling to their guardian's leg and sit alone during recess. there are different ways to be shy. you can be aggressively shy, or fearfully shy, or shy due to general unwillingness to change.

make their shyness have realistic consequences. someone who's shy is probably not going to have many friends, if any. not all shy kids magically meet an extrovert who adopts them. someone who's shy probably has underdeveloped social skills, which can lead to them being less emotionally intelligent down the line. this makes the shy kid archetype a lot more three-dimensional than just a wet noodle of fear.

don't's:

infantilize shyness or treat it like it makes the kid some sweet, precious angel. not only is this very uncomfortable for shy people to read, but it's generally unrealistic. shyness doesn't affect how good or bad somebody is - it's a neutral trait.

use shyness as a tool to make characters seem younger. shyness does not indicate age. fear manifests in many different ways, and shyness is not the only way.

rely on cliches. not all shy people have the same journey, and the idea that a shy person becoming more outgoing is the "goal" is not only a bit offensive, but it's very cliche. shyness is not always an obstacle to be overcome.

archetype three: the happy-go-lucky kid

oftentimes, the reason why children characters are written into stories in the first place is to give a little bit of lightheartedness and innocence. to add a unique voice among all the cranky, stingy, burdened adults. but you have to be careful when writing this archetype. i personally really dislike this archetype as a whole, but i'm going to put personal feelings towards it aside because honestly, there's no valid reason to dislike it besides opinion.

do's:

give the kid a trademark. maybe this kid makes a lot of little jokes, or maybe they always see the best in a situation. give the kid one thing that makes them happy-go-lucky instead of just giving them everything because nobody is endlessly happy all the time in every way.

go deeper. while happiness is very often genuine, sometimes, it's a mask that hides something else. this can be an interesting way to sort of spice up your happy-go-lucky kid character. maybe the kid is hiding a big secret behind all those jokes.

don't's:

make the character always happy. while children tend to have simpler thoughts, they don't have simpler minds. this child needs to have thoughts, real, genuine thoughts that aren't just happy things.

see happy-go-lucky as a trait that is exclusive to children. comparing happiness to childhood and viewing them as the only places where the other can exist is just wrong, and it's kind of depressing. maybe give happy-go-lucky kid a happy-go-lucky adult to exchange jokes with!

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those are the archetypes that i see a lot. but now, i'm going to suggest a few child character archetypes that i LOVE that i don't see enough in fics! feel free to use any of these that you like. alter them, combine them! these are, in my opinion, some of the most fun child character personalities!

the spoiled brat: "i want this, and that, and that, and- why aren't you giving it to me?? if you don't give me what i want, i'll tell on you!". spoiled brats are so fun to read and write about, especially when they have absolutely no reason to be spoiled given the current situation (think riches to rags). they've got everything, humor, angst, and best of all, lots of pockets for personality. think about why the child is spoiled. were they enabled by their guardians? did they grow up rich, with access to everything they wanted? think about whether you want the child to stay spoiled. does something change? do they learn how to improve their materialistic and selfish tendencies? there are so many opportunities to play with the personality of this child!

the know-it-all kid: while i do see a lot of know-it-all kids in media, oftentimes, they don't actually have personality besides bossiness and intelligence. i love know-it-all kids who have depth to them. kids who are constantly spouting information because of their sheer love to learn. kids who have one specific thing that they know everything about, so they never stop talking about it. kids who tell people what to do and act like they know best because they don't have a lot of control over anything at home, so they grasp at whatever control they can find elsewhere. i think this archetype could open up a lot of ideas for personality further down the line. it also has a lot of variety with humor and angst, and general depth.

the serious child: this is an archetype that i cannot get enough of. i love a child that doesn't think they're an adult, per se, and still enjoys kid things, but just has such a calm and regal air about them that isn't learned. it's just natural. think of the kid that doesn't really get excited about things conventionally, but you can tell they're happy by their faint smile. the kid that seems to live in slow motion, and doesn't mind this fact at all. the kid that sits alone at recess just because other kids scare the birds away, and they want to see how a bird acts when it doesn't think its being watched. i love kids who have poignant thoughts, because their thoughts are so creative and different from adult thoughts.

the adult-ified child: now this is another archetype i can't get enough of, but it's for a different reason. this child, on the other hand, does think that they're an adult for one reason or another. maybe their guardians forced them to grow up too quickly. maybe they just wanted to grow up quickly by themselves. but this child has thoughts that are too big for their little bodies. they explore things that aren't meant to be explored when their brains are still so small. they do everything too quickly, they stumble through life as if a clock is ticking somewhere. to me, they're just haunting to read about. it feels wrong and dangerous to just watch them do things that hurt them because they don't know any better, but they're on a page. nobody can stop them. it's just so tragic, i'm obsessed.

the prodigal child: this archetype isn't really as deep or detailed as the others, but i do appreciate it. this archetype is for a child who knew who they wanted to be from an early age. a child who wanders into a ballet class and finds out they're better than the ten year olds by the time they're five. this archetype often pairs really well with the know-it-all kid or the adult-ified child because usually, children don't experience what it's like to be the best at something until they're a lot older. this is just a really cool archetype when you aren't quite sure what to do with that main character's little sister.

the chaotic child: this archetype is so much fun to read and write, to be honest. this is a child that just does as they please, whether it's out of curiosity or for pure enjoyment. think of the crazy stories that your guardians have about you or your siblings being absolutely insane. scribbling in a book and then demanding that the library publish their version. trying to ride the dog like a horse. cutting up clothes in an attempt to be a fashion designer. this one is just plain fun!

---

now, there are so many more archetypes out there, but those are just my spotlights and recommendations! i hope after reading this, you feel more equipt to write child characters that have real, engaging, interesting personalities!

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faytelumos · 10 months

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#writing children #how to write children #writing teenagers #how to write teenagers #writing #doing some research and found this to be super interesting/handy #definitely useful for all characters #emotional jar

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intermundia · 27 days

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this is the single worst way i've ever read to describe an erection, frank herbert

#the next line does call it 'the girder-shape of ecstacy' which is also bad but in a more abstract way than the pure horror of beef #wild that this is abt a 9yo's drug trip #children of dune #dune #speaking of how hard it is to write smut #cannot believe these sentences get published lol

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bluerosefox · 2 months

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Family Resemblance

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I had another 11pm brain worm.

Enjoy

-x-x-

Daniel Wayne, the younger toddler brother of Bruce Wayne and the son of Martha and Thomas Wayne had been kidnapped the night their parents were murdered.

Daniel had been snagged the moment their killer heard people headed to the alley and Bruce in his state of shock didn't realize it until it was far to late and could only scream in horror (from everything) as his baby brother is crying his name. (If you wanna make it even more heart wrenching, make it Danny's first time being able to say Bruce's name right and/or Bruce had said some mean things to Danny earlier after he accidentally broke something of Bruce's, something like 'I wish youd go away' or 'I never wanted a brother, you're such a bother!')

Bruce is being held by Alfred as some police officers are chasing down the Wayne's parents killer while some stay behind to see if they could do something.

Minutes turn to hours and as they wait, praying the police at least found Danny, Bruce is ridden with guilt. From his parents death to allowing his brother to be kidnapped.

Eventually the police return to give Alfred and Bruce the news. And it's not good.

The killer escaped and Danny was nowhere to be found.

And it would take many years before he would be found.

-x-x-

Bruce gets a call from Damian during school hours one day. When he answers he is greeted with Damian demanding him to get to the school and explain himself.

Confused Bruce asks what does he mean and Damian responds with

"The two new students in class today are the spitting images of you and I father! Either they are poorly created clones or you have more hidden blood children!"

-x-x-

Meanwhile the very students being discussed are calling up someone too

"Ellie? Dan? What's wrong? You better not have made too much chaos already, I just paid for the uniforms for that place."

"DAD! I THINK ANOTHER ONE OF THE FRUITLOOPS FAILED CLONES SOMEHOW SURVIVED!"

"What?"

#danny phantom #danny fenton #crossover #dp x dc #blue rambles #danny phantom dc #writing ideas #random idea #dpxdc #bruce and danny are siblings #danny was a toddler when he was kidnapped #somehow someway he escaped or was dumped out of Gotham #due to how young Danny was and how traumatized he was about that night he forgot everything but his first name #no one really connected the dots that Danny was the missing Wayne child #mostly due to no public photographs of Danny #he had been born very early and no one was sure he was going to make it #and going to the theater had been his first time being finally allowed out of the manor #only for it to end in tragedy #years later though #Danny moves to Gotham with his kids #a deaged and raised from infanthood Danielle 'Ellie' Fenton and Dante 'Dan' Fenton #Damian was not ready to see them #he thinks theyre poorly made clones since one looks more like his father than him and the other is a girl #or more secret children his father didnt know about #Ellie and Dan think Damian is an escaped clone of Vlads #Bruce and Danny meet at the school and Bruce nearly has a heart attack at the young man who looks so much like his parents #Danny is a bit weirded out because Bruce looks very familiar somehow

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deklo · 8 months

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my interpretation of adoptive bee :’)

pls don’t repost!

#the entire time i’ve been working on this i’ve Wished i could write because i have so many opinions (not gonna get into it though)#i do however imagine andrew is like 7-8 when bee fosters/adopts him but also idk how to draw children so he kind of looks 2-4 LMAOOO #also idk how old bee is. listen. whatever :)#and is it unlikely he’d accept touch from bee so soon? again idk but in this case 🤷🏻‍♂️#my art #my aftg art #andrew minyard #bee dobson #betsy dobson #adoptive bee #aftg #aftg au #all for the game #the foxhole court #tfc #andreil IF YOU SQUINT #tfc au #also just saying it was so weird drawing a calm smile on andrew so bare with me

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shower-phantom-ideas · 8 months

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Bruh emotional support ghost kid? Well thats what they are calling him

Suicide cases in gothem are about to fucking plummet boiz cause this one weird blue eyes, black haired boy is now heading to your location.

How does he know where to be? Having a bad day and are all alone? No the fuck your not cause don’t turn around now but theres some shiny blue eyes coming at you from that dark ally. Oh shit hes here to drop some information about you and your lost loved ones that he should know. Oh god the closure. How could you have been afraid on this sweet, creepy, boy who just helped you find your way.

Meanwhile Danny is chillin in Gothem cause the GIW hate it there (none of they equipment actually functions in Gothem so it’s either super haunted or actually not haunted at all). Then all of a sudden he gets approached by a random ghost begging for his help because their sweet baby girl is about to do something horrible. Oops now all the ghosts are following their most loved ones around just to make sure they are there to rush to Danny for help when all else fails. Now hes getting to fulfil his protection obsession double time because one hes helping protect people from themselves and two hes protecting everyone in Gothem by stopping people from becoming villains for revenge. Plus he gets to see first hand how hes making a difference because all those people he saved are sending him some good vibes from all across Gothem.

Thank god he followed Jazz around so much to slightly absorb some of her phycology knowledge over the years. Plus it was actually pretty interesting so she gave him her old text books. Shes also helping him deal with the rare events where he can’t save someone. Just a moment too late or he stops them but they later succeeded in the hospital. Neither are his fault. Now only if he could convince his core of that.

Anyway why Gothem you ask? Amity Park would have been just as good tbh but imagine Batmans face when he finally gets to be face to face with the emotional support ghost boy. Why is he here? Bruce is fine. Batman is fine. Hes not gonna do anything crazy. It’s just a hard time of year. Around their death always gives him grief. But hes an adult and can manage it.

“You know they are so proud of you.” The boy states. As if it’s clear as day, even though it’s Gothem and never a clear day. Batman blinks at him, stunned for a moment. “What?” This boy can’t possibly know that. No one will ever know that, Bruce can only hope. “They see their home, full of such life. That big house that felt so empty, so cold, to them as well for years. Then you filled it with Family and Love like they had always wanted for you. They are so proud of what you have turned it into. Somewhere full of life and warmth.” A small smile graces his face as finally “you have made your parents so proud” and its all he can do to contain himself. Emotions are running high and sue him because he really did need to hear that ok. The boy suddenly looks to Bruces right with a confused face “aren’t all basements like that though?” Before Bruce can even get a word in hes gone. Just vanished before his eyes.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dpxdc #dp x dc #batman #I just wanted to write danny walking up to the buggest toughest batman and make him cry tears of relief #danny is helping his subjects find closure while always feeding his protection obsession #let him be interested in his sisters word #also god imagine bruce just having a bad time of it cause is the anniversary of his parents death #than the ghost kid just walks up and tells him exactly what he needed to heat #yes they are proud of the word batman does #he knows he has saved lives #but what about him as a father #would his father be ashamed of his parenting skills #would his mother be discusted at how he treats his children #he always remembers his parents as good parents so he wants to do right by them by also being a good parent #anyone can risk their life for another but few can be a good father #actually it’s easy just love your kids and sont walk out and leave them with an insane bitch of a mother #dad im lookin at you #and dknt marry your fucking step sister dad #isnt our family tree circle enough. why must u follow in grandmothers footsteps #at least with him is marrage related aye?#oops im rabling about my daddy issues teehee

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tolkienillustrations · 8 months

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“It [The Lord of the Rings] is finished, if still partly unrevised, and is, I suppose, in a condition which a reader could read, if he did not wilt at the sight of it…now I look at it, the magnitude of the disaster is apparent to me. My work has escaped from my control, and I have produced a monster: an immensely long, complex, rather bitter, and very terrifying romance, quite unfit for children (if fit for anybody); and it is not really a sequel to The Hobbit, but to The Silmarillion.”

— J.R.R. Tolkien to Sir Stanley Unwin, 24 February 1950

#LOTR #Silmarillion #Tolkien #quotes #Tolkien I love you so much #*writes a book that becomes known as the pinnacle of the fantasy genre* “this is a disaster”#“quite unfit for children (if fit for anybody)”#how do I communicate to Tolkien's ghost that LOTR and the Silmarillion are both my favorite books?!?!?

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mediumgayitalian · 3 months

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“Did you wash your face?”

“Yes.”

“Brush your teeth?”

“Yes.”

“Brush your hair?”

“…Yes.”

As soon as he says it, he coughs. A freckled hand moves to itch at his throat, rub at slowly puffing eyes.

“You, William Andrew,” Lee says, grinning, “are a liar.”

Will scowls. “Am not!”

The effect of his glare is significantly undermined by the redness of his eyes and the cough that interrupts him mid-sentence. Shaking his head, Lee leans into his bunk and scoops his brother up, heading to the Big House. He slides his hand in tangled, curly hair as Will rests his head on his shoulder, still breathing heavily.

“I can feel the knots in your hair, doofus.”

Will curls up tighter in his hold, muffling another cough in his elbow. “Nuh-uh.” He sniffles. “Hey, Lee, am I dying?”

Lee snorts. “No, you’re not dying.” He ducks into the back entrance of the infirmary, flicking on the lights and setting Will on the counter of the nurse’s station.

Will’s brow furrows. “Then what?”

With his swollen tongue, it sounds more like ‘den wah’. Lee picks up the pace — he’s pretty sure, based on what he knows, that the reaction will go away on its own, but a little Benadryl can’t hurt.

“You’re having an allergic reaction.”

He finally finds the stash of Benadryl — who sorted the mortal meds cupboard by colour again — and grabs one of the little measuring cups. Will sees the medicine and immediately starts whining, trying to climb off the counter.

After a minute of wrangling, he manages to keep Will put with one leg over both of his, chin hooked around his shoulder to hinder any escape attempts so he can pour the medicine with both hands. (He pours one teaspoon, even though Will is eight and should be having two. He’s too small for two. It worries him, a little bit — but there is nothing in his vitals to indicate anything’s wrong, so he must just be a late bloomer. Or maybe he and Michael are just destined to remain under five feet for eternity.)

“I’m not drinking it I’m not drinking it I’m not drinking it ew ew ew ew ew —”

“Yes you are —”

“No! Gross! It’s disgusting!”

“You’ve never even had it before!”

Will looks at the tiny little cup like there are worms writhing in it. (He would probably be more willing to eat it if it was worms. Last summer he ate an ant before Lee could stop him. No one told him demigod life would involve wrangling dangerously impulsive children, and he would like a refund, please, thanks.) “I can tell.” He clamps his mouth shut, turning away. “I am not drinking it.”

“It will help you,” Lee says exasperatedly. Was he this difficult as a child? He needs to call his mother. “I can literally see you scratching your throat, you little snot.”

He shoves his hands under his thighs. “No.”

“…It’s bubblegum flavoured.”

Will turns slowly to look at him, evaluating the little cup with suspicion.

“Bubblegum?”

Lee shakes it enticingly. “Bubblegum.”

After a long, tense moment, Will nods once.

“Fine.” He accepts the little cup, bringing it up close to his face to inspect with one squinting eye. “But if it’s disgusting I’m spitting it out.”

He brings the little cup to his lips for the most delicate, most minuscule of sips, more of a dip of the tongue than anything. Lee rolls his eyes. A second later, a pleased look slots on his face, and he downs the rest of the medicine in one large gulp.

Immediately, some of the swelling reduces, and he stops breathing so laboriously.

“There you go,” Lee murmurs, smoothing back his hair. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

“No.”

“Gods, you’re stubborn.”

He’s smiling as he says it, leaning down to press a kiss to Will’s freckled forehead. He slumps into it, sighing, arms winding their way around Lee’s neck almost shyly. Understanding the gesture for the plea that it is, Lee scoops him up again, wincing as he elbows his ribs in an effort to get comfortable, and starts putting the medicine away one-handed (by alphabet, the correct way to sort.)

“You sleepy?” he asks softly, feeling Will grow heavier against him. He crosses his fingers — Apollo kids don’t often suffer side effects of medication, but he’s hoping the drowsiness’ll kick in. It’ll be nice if Will actually, like, sleeps through the night. For once.

“Mhm.”

Smiling wider, he flicks off the lights and steps out into the late evening. Cicada song swells in the mid-spring mugginess, owls hooting somewhere in the darkness. The curfew harpies’ chittering grows nearer and nearer. Lee waves to some of his friends as he sees them puttering outside their cabins, running through the last of their nightly routines, and finally ducks into Cabin Seven.

“He out?” Diana asks, hushed, setting aside her guitar to walk over.

Lee hums. “Almost. Had to give him some Benadryl, so he’s sleepy.” His smile turns sly. “He lied to me about brushing his hair and broke out in hives.”

“Of course he’s allergic.” She leans forward, shaking her head, and presses a gentle kiss to his temple. He doesn’t stir. “Goodnight, sweetpea.”

The rest of his siblings call out their own soft goodnights as Lee walks over to Will’s bunk, covered in stickers and bracketed by Michael and Leanna, and sets him on the mattress. It takes him several minutes to pry himself out of his grip.

“Love you,” he whispers. He brushes his knuckle across his cheek. “Night, kiddo.”

———

The next morning, Will sleeps in for hours. The rest of them rise as usual with the sun, but he’s snoring, drooling onto his Star Wars pillowcase. The cabin is filled with muffled snickers and snapping cameras.

“I am going to have so much ammo on him by the time he’s thirteen and embarrassed by everything,” Michael says gleefully. “So, so much ammo.”

Lee grins at him. “Make sure I get a copy.”

The walk to breakfast is almost strange — the twelve of them again, no baby brother. Melody, complaining about the Hermes girl who is not picking up on any of her hints, pauses mid-sentence to ask if she can swear. Cass laughs out loud and allows it. Quickly, breakfast becomes a competition of who can swear the most or the most colourfully, free now that there are no little ears (as if Michael hasn’t supplied Will with a vast vocabulary already).

By the time Will stumbles into the pavilion, rubbing sleepy eyes, breakfast is almost over.

“Well, hello, lazy bones,” Lee teases, getting up to grab him a plate. Will trails slightly behind him, fingers twisted in the hem of his shirt.

“‘M not lazy,” he grouches, accepting the heaping plate Lee hands to him, “you drugged me.”

They walk to the brazier near the Apollo table, taking in the sweet smell as Will scrapes off a hefty chunk of olive bread. Lee waits for him to close his eyes and finish mouthing a quick prayer before guiding him, still sleepy, to the bench.

“I didn’t drug you. You took the medicine yourself.”

“Um, no way! Unless a patient is educated about the risks, benefits, and alternatives about a treatment, they do not have informed consent.” He nods resolutely, evidently proud of himself for remembering the spiel. “Ergo, you drugged me.”

Lee has the sudden, overwhelming urge to burst into tears. Will is — he’s just so bright, and so little. Eight years old and chattering off about informed consent, intently watching Michael in the infirmary, taking notes in his little blue notebook and wrapping bandages on burns with his tongue poking out between lost teeth. When Lee was eight years old, he was chasing his friends around at recess, chattering to anyone who would listen about Pokémon.

He had felt it, when the glowing gold lyre appeared above Will’s head: this child will do great things. They’d all felt it. Cass had gone stiff, eyes flashing green and face creasing in horror, before remembering herself and the big blue eyes watching her, scared, and plastering a smile on her face. ‘Great things’ is never a good thing for a demigod to do. A demigod destined for great things is a demigod doomed.

With every straining molecule, he wants to turn to the heavens and scream, no! You will not have him! You will not use him! He is not yours to toy with, to use until you’re bored! I will not allow it! By my dying breath I will not allow it!

Instead, he swallows around the lump in his throat and says, “What kind of dork says the word ‘ergo’,” and laughs when Will sticks out his tongue. He reminds his baby brother to chew with his mouth closed and keep his elbows off the table, lest his mama kick his ass, and forces himself to focus on the way he leans into Lee’s side as he eats; to memorize the wideness of his unburdened smile.

———

“I’m allergic to lying?!”

“Seems like it,” Lee confirms, closing one eye to line up a shot. He breathes in, holds, then exhales, letting the arrow loose. It hits the bullseye, but not quite as centred as he’d like it to be. Shoot. He sets down his bow, and Will runs off, scooping up the volley and running back with them.

(Gods, Lee loves having a little brother.)

“That’s not a real allergy,” he huffs, placing an arrow in Lee’s waiting hand. “The ten most common allergy types are foods, animals, pollen, mold, dust mites, medications, latex, insect stings, cockroaches, and perfumes or household chemicals. Other allergens are rare but not impossible, but all are a result of physical stimuli. An allergy to a concept or person is a figure of speech.”

Lee squints at him. “Do you know what ‘stimuli’ means?”

“No.”

“It means a thing that evokes a specific reaction. Where’d you read that?”

“‘The Flu, The Plague, and the Common Cold — How We Are Shaped By Reacting’ by Phyllis Ledger.”

“Huh.”

He lines up another arrow — closer to the centre, this time. Good enough.

They don’t learn a lot about paediatric care at camp, or really anything outside of first aid and emergency services, but he’s pretty sure that normal eight-year-olds don’t read and memorize medical textbooks in their spare time. Is he supposed to nurture that? He has no idea how to nurture that.

It’s kinda funny, though. Cute.

“How can I be allergic to lying if that’s impossible?”

“Is sewing a severed arm back on a person using magical nectar and singing songs possible?”

Will pauses, considering. “Okay. I guess so.” He waits, letting Lee focus to make another shot. “I still think it’s stupid. Are you allergic to lying?”

“Nope.”

“Is Cass?”

“Negative.”

“Michael?”

Lee scoffs. “If Michael was allergic to lying, he would be dead.”

“Is anyone else allergic to lying?”

“Nope.” This time, the arrow lands in the dead centre — finally. “Just you, kiddo.”

He’s heard, of course, of children of Apollo afflicted with such an inconvenience before. Their dad is the god of truth, after all. It’s bound to happen.

Will frowns. “What are the parameters?”

Lee glances curiously at him. “What do you mean?”

“Well, what is lying? Am I allergic to lying, or not telling the truth? They’re different, you know.” He fidgets with the last arrow of the volley, picking at the tail. “Am I gonna get hives if I say something that’s not true, even if I think it’s true? What if I say something that’s a lie but everyone believes it’s true, like when people believed smoking was good for you?” He gasps, looking at Lee with wide, worried eyes. “Oh my gods, am I allowed to be sarcastic?”

Lee tries his very best to hold back his laughter. He is obviously unsuccessful, because Will scowls, shoving him as hard as he can and throwing off his last shot.

“It’s not funny!”

“It’s a little funny,” Lee snickers, jogging down the range to gather his arrows. He slides them into the quiver, tossing it and his bow onto the equipment deck. “You’re very adorable when you’re mad. You get all —” he pokes Will’s dimpled cheeks, grinning when it makes him smile — “pouty and red. Like Tinkerbell.”

“You’re mean. You’re a horrible mean big brother and I want Beckendorf to adopt me instead.”

“I’ll let him know,” Lee says drily. “C’mon, kid. There’re cabin inspections tonight; I know you got Lego everywhere. Time to clean up. I swear, if we get Castor again I’m gonna —”

“Oh, I didn’t see you guys! I hope I’m not interrupting your practice.”

Lee stumbles. “— lose it.” He trails off weakly “Hey, Carter.”

The son of Athena smiles widely, dark eyes twinkling. His front tooth is just slightly crooked, and Lee finds himself staring at it.

“Hi, Lee.”

Lee wonders, briefly, if he has suddenly developed tachycardia. It certainly feels like it. He remembers something Will had rattled off during lunch yesterday — hummingbirds don’t actually hum, they just beat their wings thousands of times per minute, often in sync with their heart. Lee feels a strange kinship with the little birds right about now.

Will clears his throat loudly.

Carter startles. “Oh! Oh, hi, Will, I’m sorry. Didn’t see you there.”

Will squints suspiciously. “Uh-huh.”

“I was just hoping to use the archery range, if you’re done with it.” He tucks a lock behind his ear. “Or, um. We can share, if you want.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay,” Lee rushes to assure, “I actually just finished, so I’m all — it! It’s all yours!” He clears his throat, sure his face is flaming. “Uh, take it away! Shoot straight!”

Mortified, he clamps his hands on Will’s shoulders and practically shoves him forward, rushing away as fast as is socially acceptable.

“Okay,” Carter calls out behind him, audibly confused. “See you around, Lee.”

Lee makes some sort of horrible, crackling chucking sound. “Right-o!”

Just bury him. Really.

“Smooth,” Will mutters, the second they’re out of earshot. Then he pauses, delighted. “Hey! I can still be sarcastic!”

Lee flicks him on the forehead, scowling. “Shut up.”

———

“— it just seems so vague, right? I mean, say I look at the sky and say, the sky is green. That’s obviously not true. But what if I think it’s true? Or what if I think blue is green, and green is blue? Am I being truthful? Is truth defined by my belief, or by whoever I’m speaking to? Or some arbitrary, so-called objective standard? And what if —”

“Will,” Lee begs, hands pressed to his rapidly-pulsating temples, “for the love of Zeus, please settle down.”

“I can’t,” he says dramatically. He gets another couple jumps on his (FRESHLY MADE) bed before Lee gets fed up an wallops him with a pillow, sending him tumbling with a shriek. “Child abuse! I’m telling Chiron!” He makes a pleased noise. “Hey, I can still exaggerate! I wonder if acting is considered lying —”

“I am going to lose my mind.”

“— and what about, like, withholding the truth? Like, for example, if you asked me, hey, Will, did I make a big embarrassing fool out of myself in front of Carter this morning, and I do not say yeah, totally, I was embarrassed for you —”

“That’s it.”

Lee pounces on him, murderous, digging his fingers into his brother’s sides as he shrieks with laughter, pinning down his arms so he can’t writhe away.

“Mercy! Mercy! I’m sorry, I’m —”

“You’re literally lying right now!” Lee says in disbelief. “I can see your eyes reddening!”

Luckily, the reaction isn’t so severe this time. Maybe it’s a smaller lie, leaning more into teasing than anything, or maybe even the universe can’t be so cruel when faced with Will’s giggles. Either way, Lee tickles him until he’s begging for mercy for real, gasping as he darts away.

��You’re such a brat,” Lee says fondly, catching his breath.

Will sticks out his tongue. “Nuh uh.”

“Get over here, doofus. It’s nine o’clock. You were supposed to be in bed a half-hour ago, I’ll tell you a story.”

Predictably, that gets him quiet, clambering over the mussed sheets and shoving himself into Lee’s side, leg sprawled over his knees and chin digging into his chest. Big blue eyes turn to him with attention, wider than the sea and skies, sparkling, clear with open trust. The lump surfaces in Lee’s throat again, and he brings his hands up to smooth down Will’s hair, distracting himself by untangling the many knots.

“One day,” he begins, voice a little wobbly, “there was a boy.”

“In a galaxy far far away?”

“No. Shut up.”

Will pouts. Lee kisses him on the forehead.

“There was a regular boy on regular Earth. And he was small and clumsy, because his brain was too big for his body and threw him off balance.”

“That’s called a Chiari malformation.”

“William Andrew.”

“Sorry.”

“Gods. Anyways. The boy.” He clears his throat. “The boy was the most curious boy to ever exist. He would observe things, with his big eyes, for hours, trying to figure out how everything in the whole world worked. He’d memorized how every creature in the pond worked together when he was four years old. By the time he was five he could speak frog, and dance with the fireflies.”

Will giggles. “A boy can’t speak frog, that’s ridiculous. Can the frog speak back?”

“Shhh. Listening ears. One day, when the boy was eight, he got very bored by his house, even with the pretty pond. The frogs were too busy to play with him and the fireflies had flown off to work, so he decided to go on an adventure.”

“A quest?”

“Yes, exactly. A quest for knowledge. He decided he would learn every piece of information possible so that one day he could bring it back to his village and share it with everybody. Do you know what happened?”

“What?”

“He was successful. He spent many years travelling and observing and running from monsters to get all the information he could. And when he came back to the village, the people saw that he was kind and intelligent but very naive, so they sucked out all the knowledge from his head to use for themselves and he died. The end.”

“What? No!” Will pushes himself upright, unfortunately putting his entire weight on Lee’s spleen, jaw dropped in outrage. “That’s a horrible story! You can’t end the story like that!”

“My story,” Lee wheezes. “I can end it however I want.”

“Tell it better!”

“Fine, fine. Get off my organs.”

When Will is settled again, curled in the crook of Lee’s arm and glaring at him suspiciously, Lee continues.

“The villagers didn’t kill the boy. You’re right. But they weren’t very careful with them, either. The boy wanted very much to help, so much that it was sometimes all he could think about. And the villagers didn’t mean to, but they treated the boy like he was a knowledge machine — taking and taking and taking, forgetting to give back, to check on him. One day, the boy was so drained of knowledge that he collapsed.”

“Of stress-induced exhaustion?” Will asks softly. His eyes, finally, have begun to droop.

Lee smiles. “Something like that.”

“Then what happened?”

“The villagers panicked, because the boy wasn’t awake to tell them how to fix him. They didn’t know what to do. Some of them, even, didn’t know why he collapsed at all, they thought he might be cursed and didn’t like him anymore.”

“But he wasn’t cursed, he was sick!”

“That’s right. He was sick, because he didn’t stop to take care of himself. He let people take too much without making sure he had enough to stay whole.”

For a long time, long enough that Lee thinks he’s asleep, Will doesn’t say anything. And then he says, in a very small voice, “Does the boy still die?”

“No,” Lee whispers, tightening his hold. “His big brother comes back from a long trip and heals him. And then he yells are the villagers for making him sick, and makes them promise to be more careful. The end. For real this time.”

“I like the second story better,” Will says. “It’s good that he had his big brother there.”

“Always.” Lee swallows, shifting once Will’s eyes flutter shut, sliding him under the covers. “Always, kiddo.”

#thinking about what could have been and sobbing on my hands and knees on the ground #something something the children of prophecy know which of them is going to live something something #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #will solace #will solace angst #lee fletcher #will solace & lee fletcher #i don’t know how else to tag this but like. pain #my writing #fic #longpost #baby will #baby will solace #kid will solace #smart will solace

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mxliv-oftheendless · 4 months

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Ok I know we all like to joke about how the Battle of the Five Armies is only a page long in The Hobbit but like. Sometimes I think about how what if Tolkien wrote it that way because he didn’t want his kids to hear about war.

#like the hobbit was supposed to be a bedtime story for his kids #and Tolkien fought in an actual war like he was on the front lines #and obviously it impacted him heavily enough to write a whole trilogy of anti-war books #but this was a story originally meant for his children to hear #so what if he left out the battle of the five armies because he didn’t want his kids to hear about it #but still left in the sad aftermath because he at the very least wanted them to know how destructive war is #I dunno I could be wrong #but sometimes I think about that #the hobbit #lord of the rings #jrr tolkien #j r r tolkien #the silmarillion #tolkien legendarium #tolkien

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uzurakis · 2 days

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knock knock ૮₍˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶₎ა

kiara . . . imagine kaiser as a dad ૮₍˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶₎ა ( a girldad specifically . . . he has three-four little girls :< )

i could swear to god that he had never considered being willing to have children in his life. having experienced abuse as a child, he veered away from the concept of a family and even from love itself. kaiser who’s not interested in building a family because he doesn't know any better and has never experienced a stable family. in fact, he doesn't even consider ending the trauma; he just doesn't give a damn anymore. he has no faith in love or miracles.

but suddenly, he found himself here, with three beautiful daughters who looked at him with eyes full of love and admiration. they were a constant reminder of a life he had never imagined for himself, and yet, they filled a void he hadn’t known existed.

he watched as his youngest daughter, barely three years old, toddled towards him with a giggle, her tiny hands reaching out for him. he gently scooped her up, fearing it might break, but her warmth against his chest soothed him down. her laughter was infectious, and despite himself, a smile tugged at his lips.

your voice called out from the kitchen, “michael, can you help with the twins? they’re arguing over the crayons again.”

kaiser sighed, but there was no real frustration behind it. “alright, i’m coming, mein liebe,” he replied, setting down the youngest and heading towards the living room where the chaos was in full swing.

when you joined him in the living room, you gave him a knowing smile. “you’re doing great, you know.”

but he shook his head, his eyes reflecting the turmoil of his past. “i never thought i’d be here,” he admitted quietly, showing another vulnerability of his. “i never thought i’d have a family, let alone be any good at this.”

you took his hand, squeezing it gently. “none of us know what we’re doing at first. but look at them, mein mann. they’re happy, and they love you. you’re their hero. du bist unser held.”

a lump formed in his throat, and he swallowed hard, unable to speak for a moment. “i just… i never had this,” he finally said. “i don’t know how to be a good father.”

“you are a good father, michael,” you insisted, eyes filled with conviction. “you’re here, you love them, and you try every day. that’s more than enough.”

he looked at you, his wife, the one who had seen through his walls and loved him despite everything. “i don’t deserve you,” he whispered.

you smiled, leaning in to kiss him softly. “you deserve all the happiness in the world, michael. and you deserve this family.”

#he’s just a smol guy who’s afraid :(#my michael.. sniffs… i lob him #he’d be a great father. i jus know it!!#i hc he doesn’t want to touch his firstborn immediately after bcs HES SCAREEEDDD and confused :< he didn’t know how to handle kids #he didnt know how to properly love them #he didnt understand how to raise children #but ure there in his every step!! that’s what matters #.inbox #blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock kaiser #bllk kaiser #bllk x reader #michael kaiser #kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x reader #kaiser x you #kaiser x y/n #.writing

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bruciemilf · 8 months

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Somebody tell me if this is a bad take, or if my love for Bruce is causing my objective brain to glitch, but-- something about advertising Batman, a hero who's very popular for being good with children, for being NURTURING with children, a bad father kinda defeats the whole purpose of what he's supposed to represent.

Batman is a protector; He protects people the world (and especially law enforcement) does not care about. That's literally the point of him.

Something about marketing " you can be incredibly violent to people you care about! And Its fine, because you care about them even if you abuse them, and that's what matters!" towards people, but especially men and young boys, is REALLY fucked up to me.

#it's not really 'wahhh think of the children' because the media you consume isn't a vessel of your character #but. gotham war is so incredibly shallow to me for pulling the 'no no its another personality bruce would never!' like. thats worse.#you get thats worse right?#because 1) dc loves demoninsing DID for some reason but it doesn’t add any substantial weight because bruce will be associated with #the actions of his 'alter' anyway. and dc knew that. 2) if you truly cannot write an interesting comic book where bruce is not abusive #and the batkids aren't being abused. you failed.#this isn't a reprouch or an attack to people who prefer that format. but the creator isn't doing it as genuine exploration of dark tropes #if that's the case -- dont cop out with the personality thing. let him be a bad dad. but its kinda fucked how dc STILL try to paint him #as a good person while doing so. its the collen hoover effect. 'we know the guy is an abuser. thats not the problem. the problem #is that the author wants us to pretend thats a good thing.'#bruce wayne #dc comics #dc #batman #text post #dc critical

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prodigal-explorer · 11 months

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how to write children in fanfiction: a guide

as someone who grew up with a lot of speech/motor delays, i get really annoyed when i see all these fanfics with child characters that are just written so offensively and badly. this is especially prominent in the sanders sides fandom, i've found, but i'm sure it's apparent in other fandoms too. anyway, the way that some of y'all write children is atrocious, so let me give you some tips! warning, this is a pretty long post, but i wanted to put all my tips in one place!

a comprehensive guide on how to write children in fanfiction:

lesson one - how to write speech impediments

lesson two - the physicality of children

lesson three - children and personality

lesson four - children and trauma

lesson five - representation through children

lesson six - examples

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kingofthe-egirls · 10 months

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GEAR 5: LUFFY x Y/N

!!! SPOILERS !!!

(cw: reader is a survivor, sex, gear 5 luffy, sweet, kissing, creampie)

(a/n: big trigger warning here. working through my own past with luffy to help me. ah.)

Songs: "Have One On Me" by Joanna Newsom, "South London Forever" by Florence + the Machine

words: 1.2k

"M'gonna go slow, kay?" Luffy soothes his hand over your belly. You're fluttery and shaky, breaths coming in shallow gasps as your boyfriend kneels over you. Your legs are spread wide, bare for him after hours of foreplay. You're ready, you tell yourself, I'm ready.

"Gonna give you a new memory, okay?" Luffy asks you, his eyes wide and shining as he waits for your permission. You nod.

"Ready."

Luffy leans down to kiss you, fluttering his fingers over your cheeks. "Ya sure? You look kinda scared, y/n. I don't wanna do anything you don't wanna do," he frowns, tilting his head. His hair is all spiky in the black night, barely lit at all by the starlight filtering in through the cabin window. It's a new moon, tonight.

Scared.

"M'not scared with you," you mumble, swinging your knees up and down. He's sitting between your legs, his strong form naked in front of you. He's tracing his fingers down your abdomen, softly drawing invisible spirals on your skin. "Just...scared it'll happen again."

"I've got ya, y/n."

"I know," you say, squeezing your eyes shut. You reach up, making grabby hands for him in the darkness. He leans his face into your waiting hands, letting you squish in his cheeks. He giggles.

He shifts, bringing the hot skin of his thighs closer to yours, as he wraps your legs up in his arms. He leans down, kissing along your inner thighs: first one, then the other. His eyes glint up in the darkness as he surveys your expressions. "How's that?"

"Better," you say, nodding. He's been eating you out for hours, and you've been playing with him, too. You've both been dancing around the idea of sex for a while, now. He's had it before, and so have you. His experiences were a lot less...traumatizing. Than yours have been.

"Here," he says, pressing his hand onto your lower belly. "I'm gonna...stretch ya a lil bit. Just so it doesn't hurt, okay?" His fingers are soft, as he strokes his thumb over the coarse hairs at the apex of your thighs. He holds your knee in his other warm hand.

"S-stretch?"

"Like this," he soothes, his hair starting to turn white. His eyes glow pink, and you gasp. You don't know how much energy his fifth gear takes, but--you don't want him to waste it on you.

"N-no, Luffy! That's too much for you," you try to say, try to sit up, but he pushes you down. He gazes at you, seriously.

"Don't trust me?"

You stop, cowed. "I trust you, captain."

He grins. "Good!"

His transformation is nearly complete, with white hair floating around his face. His clothes have turned a brilliant pearl, too. His sash is violet; his skin is almond and honey. Something sweet you'd stir into your tea. He leans forward to kiss you again.

Luffy's lips taste like skin.

"Here," he whispers, tracing his fingers over your breasts between the two of you. He swipes over your clit, dragging his hand down and over your shaking body. "D'ya want me, y/n?"

"Of course," you whisper, reaching your arms around his neck. He smells like apples. You feel yourself getting pulled into the gravity of him, his electric elasticity stretching you out at the corners of your being. It's funny, you think, wriggling a little in his grasp.

"Feels funny," you say, smiling. He snickers, lining himself up with your entrance. His thumb is stroking over your pelvis, and you feel yourself start to relax. It's--warm. It feels like when you drink sake, a little, except your head doesn't hurt. Your head feels light as feathers. Your body is relaxed, too. All warm and goopy as he starts to press inside you. You gasp.

"Oh!" You say, arching forward. Luffy catches you around the shoulders, his hand splayed at your lower back. "I didn't know!!" You start, and stop. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish. I didn't know it would feel so good.

Luffy hums. "How's that?"

He's staring at your face, his own blush starting to form around his honey cheeks. You reach up to play with the ends of his floaty hair. You feel drunk. "It's hot," you say, giggling, "That you love me like this."

Luffy beams.

"Course," he growls, hiding his face in your neck. He breathes in deeply, slipping out his tongue to taste your skin. He likes biting you a lot, apparently. "How could I not?"

He snaps his hips, starting to fuck you in earnest.

It feels--good.

It feels weird, to have your body bouncing around like this. Your tits are shaking, your hips are shuddering, all the fleshy parts of your body are jiggling around as he softly thrusts into you. You want him to fuck you harder, now.

"Harder, Luffy," you say, fisting your hand in his hair. It feels like feathers. You want to start a pillow fight. Luffy giggles, and a puff of downy white feathers explode behind you. He's sacrificed one of his pillows apparently, you dimly think as soft white fluffs flutter down around you. They fill your vision like snowflakes.

He speeds up, thrusting into you in missionary as he holds you in both arms. He kisses up your neck, all along your cheeks. His lips are puffy and warm, and you hum into his affections with unbridled joy. He loves when you just accept his love. He has so much to give you, you can barely contain it all. Your heart is overflowing with it, spilling out from a golden chalice in salty, shimmery waves.

"Feels good, kitty?"

Luffy pants into your shoulder, biting softly at your skin. He's always covering you in hickeys, which the crew had started to make fun of at first, but had quickly lost interest in. Since you're always covered in hickeys now, it's no fun to tease you over it anymore.

"Feels so good, Luffy," you say, meeting his hips with thrusts of your own. It's slow, and steady, but your orgasm is building up behind your knees. It creeps up, up your legs and explodes between them.

"Oh!" You gasp, mouth falling open as you spasm around his length, "Fuck, Luffy, that feels so good--"

"Cum for me, angel," he whispers, voice hoarse. He's not lost to the pleasure, either. He grunts, holding your hair in one hand while the other snakes around your waist in loops. The white fluffs of feathers have settled now, intermingling with the fluffy white behind his head.

He glitters for a moment, pink hearts sparkling into being around his flushed face. They sizzle and pop, little magenta pleasures that fizz through the air as he gets closer to his climax.

"Love you, Luffy," you say, fireworks now dancing at the edges of your vision. You giggle, drunk on his love and the pleasure that's coursing through your body. It doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt, at all.

His eyes are pink hearts, now, as he gasps and pants and moans out your name. He's so in love with you.

"Fuck, kitty--," he rasps, speeding up his sweet, sweet pace. "Love when you're so wet for me, love when you take it so so good for me, fuck--" He cums into your core, his face buried in your chest. He whines, bucking into you for the lasting waves of his orgasm.

You clench around him, letting the shivers of aftermath push you over the edge another time, too.

Hearts fizzle out of existence as his hair fades back to black.

The feathers around you are now just feathers, and the two of you are now just lovers, tangled together in his bed.

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