#Toddlers are curious little explorers | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

smilesatdawnmain · 1 month ago

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Have you ever thought of how The Day The World Eclipsed would be, if you made it with Xiotain and MK. Cause like I could see Wukong being ran ragged by two little toddlers. But then I can also imagine how adorable it would be when Macaque met the twins, the original meet scene was adorable, but like it would be even more adorable! Just a thought I had!

WELL DANG IT!!

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Macaque's voice was hoarse as he whispered, "Here? You mean... now?" He had anxiously awaited the chance to meet his child, but he hadn't expected it to happen so quickly!

Wukong acknowledged with a nod, his gaze shifting towards the direction his clone was approaching from. Macaque tensed, his eyes tracking the route into the distance. Though there was no one in sight yet, he could clearly hear their approach.

The sound of the nimbus cloud cutting through the air filled his ears along with the chatter of Wukong's clones, who were busy answering trivial questions. And then he heard something else- the faint beating of two tiny hearts.

He inhaled sharply, startled when chirps filled his ears, consuming his waking breath with their high pitched tone and sweet resonance.

“Two…?” he whispered. He touched his ears, confused and spooked. “I-I hear two??” he looked to Wukong for answers, “Why do I hear two?!”

His ex-partner gave him a puzzled sideways glance, then his lips formed a sheepish smile. "I-I'm sorry Mihou," he stammered, realizing his mistake. In the midst of his excitement and nervousness, he had forgotten to mention a crucial detail about their son's birth. Or should he say, sons? "You thought you heard one heartbeat, but there were actually two," Wukong muttered, his eyes focused on the approaching sounds. "We have twins, Mihou. Beautiful little twins."

"Twins?" Macaque echoed. He took a step back, blinking rapidly as if it would clear the confusion. He had been bracing himself for fatherhood, had been preparing himself for one child, one baby monkey. But two? There was a flutter in his chest that he couldn't describe, an odd mixture of terror and joy. It was too soon. Everything was too sudden. Twins? How could he handle twins?

Just before he could express his worries, Wukong's clone glided into view on a nimbus cloud, swooping around the tree line before landing. The clone dismounted and Macaque quickly slipped behind Wukong's back, hoping to avoid being seen by the curious cubs who were about to appear. Wukong in turn tensed, eyes wide and tail holding perfectly still. He scratched his cheek awkwardly, trying not to smile when he felt Macaque’s hands holding onto his back to steady himself.

“Deep Breathes,” he instructed.

Macaque panted, struggling.

The clone was soon joined by the rest of his fellow clones, each of them grinning with the joy of introducing the two newest members of their family to Macaque. They stood aside to allow Wukong's original body to step forward, making room for him to approach the eagerly chirping young ones, who seemed engulfed in their own little conversation. The toddlers each with their own little backpack, filled with things for their day.

Xiaohua was attempting to descend from the cloud, his pudgy leg reaching out in search of solid ground but coming up short. He chirped a call for his Daddy to help him, all while MK watched curiously. One of the clones stepped closer, scooping Xiaohua up from his arm pits to instead settle him back on the cloud.

“Wait a moment, Bud,” the clone mused. Xiaohua pouted, wanting to explore.

Macaque's heart raced, finding it was hard to breathe. His mind spun with questions, his pulse thrumming in time with the joyful chirps. As Wukong grinned and walked forward, Macaque swallowed hard, his palms sweating against each other as he clutched his ex-partner’s back tighter, half hiding behind him.

"Wukong," Macaque stammered, unable to look at his ex-lover as he tried to calm his erratic heartbeat. "I... I can't, I..."

"Shh, it's okay," Wukong cut in gently, reaching back to squeeze Macaque's hand reassuringly. "You don't need to do anything. Just meet them." there was a small twinkle in his eyes, “They are excited to meet you.”

Macaque sharply lifted his head, “They are…?”

"Of course," Wukong replied warmly. "They've heard so much about their Baba, they can't wait to meet you." He extended his arm out for Macaque to come out.

Macaque hesitated for a moment longer before slowly stepping out from Wukong's back.

His heart thumped against his ribcage as he stood in front of the two tiny monkeys. Their eyes were brimming with innocence and wonder, their features an endearing blend of their parents' traits.

“Oh…” Macaque whimpered, these two everything he thought they would be and more. Macaque touched his chest in awe, happy to just- just stare. They were so small and perfect. One had chocolate brown fur, his eyes as golden as Wukong’s with six little ears on his head like him. On his face was a little heart with a spot of freckles upon his chubby cheeks. The second, had fur almost pure white, like when he himself was little, before it turned black. He had Macaque’s color face marking, that shaped similar to a butterfly. Macaque’s eye brows, Macaque’s eyes… But both had Wukong’s grin.

He made a sound similar to a whimper.

"Dada!" The little one with golden eyes, MK, chimed, breaking the silence. He had noticed his Father and stood, pausing when he saw Macaque. His eyes doubled in size to the stranger and yet- he knew who this was. His Dada had been telling him all week. This was his Baba.

His Baba he was finally getting to meet.

Wukong grinned as he waited for Macaque to speak and introduce himself. Instead, all Macaque did was gape, speechless under the magnitude of the moment.The toddlers were oblivious to how their appearance had turned their Father into a stammering mess, just curious of this new adult.

“Xiaoxiao-” ML reached out for his Brother’s hand, who was still preoccupied by the new land around them, distracted. “Xiaoxiao,” silencing the chippering scamp to also turn his head, MK pointed to their Baba. “Look,” As soon as Xiaohua saw Macaque he ducked his head a little behind his brother, clearly shy.

“Macaque, this is Xiaotian and Xiaohua.” Wukong gestured to them both. “Boys… Meet your Baba.” Wukong added softly, reaching over to gently squeeze Macaque's shoulder. "This is your Father."

The little one with white fur, Xiaohua, peeked up from behind his brother, his eyes wide with a mixture of curiosity and shyness. He'd heard stories about his Baba, tales of bravery and strength and kindness. And now here he was, standing right in front of him, as pretty as the moon.

Macaque sucked in a sharp breath as he looked at them, his heart aching with an overwhelming surge of love. He was entranced by their curious gazes and the familiarity of their features - the softness of their cheeks and eyes. They were perfect. Everything he dreamed they would be. Oh gods-… he was gonna cry.

"Wukong," Macaque managed to choke out, his voice blubbering, "They're... they're beautiful." He reached out a shaky hand, as if to touch them, but quickly retracting it as if he thought he might burn them if he did.

Seeing his struggles, Wukong shifted with his hand to lower the nimbus cloud to the ground, slowly guiding Macaque in the same direction, “Let’s all sit down,” he says gently. Macaque didn’t try to argue, letting himself be lowered to his trembling knees.

The world felt surreal as Macaque settled on the soft grass, the ground cradling him in a way that felt both grounding and weightless at the same time. As he sat there, surrounded by the warmth of Wukong’s presence and the innocent awe radiating from his children, he finally exhaled—a long, shaky breath that released a cascade of emotions he hadn’t known he was holding.

This was real.

This was happening.

He was a Baba.

"Come here, loves," Wukong encouraged softly, motioning for Xiaotian and Xiaohua to join them. The boys looked at each other, sharing a glance. As they debated listening to their Dada, Macaque’s ears flattened, a strange heat on his face.

Wukong’s soft and sweet call to the kids had been… adorably sweet, and it had startled him. They were his loves…

He cursed himself for finding his sweetness to them endearing.

“Coming, Dada,” MK was rolling off the cloud first, a bit braver to strangers then his Brother. He wobbled forward, sniffing the hair with a velvety nose. Xiaohua quickly followed suit, his small face peering up at Macaque from behind MK. As soon as they got close enough to his Dada, realizing MK wasn’t going to stop-, he rushed from behind Xiaotian to Wukong, hiding behind his back just as Macaque had a little bit ago. “Daddy,” he whispered.

Wukong smiles, rubbing Xiaohua’s back assuringly, “Yes?”

The child’s fingers clung tightly to Wukong’s shirt, his eyes never leaving Macaque’s face. “He’s got six ears, Daddy,” he pointed to them.

MK was bouncing, grasping his ears, “Like me!!”

Xiaohua nodded, “Like MK…”

“MK?” Macaque asked, looking at Wukong. Wukong blinked a few times then laughed sheepishly again.

“Like um.. M-Monkey Kid?” he says.

Macaque’s jaw fell open, stunned, yet also not surprised at all that Wukong would name on of their sons after him… AND ADORABLY SO! He clicked his teeth in a clear annoyance, but paused when MK patted his chest.

“Monkey Kid!” he declared, a savior to his Father, who exhaled in relief. “And Xiaoxiao is- uh… Xiaoxiao.”

“I’m Xiaoxiao,” the other toddler nodded, stepping out a bit more, “I-I like- I like Mangos.”

Macaque stared at him, a soft smile spreading across his face. What an innocent thing to say. “Mangos, hm?”

“I like peaches!” MK waved his hands around, getting close enough to stand before his Baba. Without hesitation he was scampering into Macaque’s lap, eager to touch is clothes, his scarf, and the fur of his arms. Macaque held perfectly still, letting the child do as he wished. His lips were squiggly, trying to hold back any tears.

The child smelled like sweetbread and milk, so sweet and eyes so round. He was talking more and more, Macaque bobbing his head and listening intently.

“I like to color, and paint- but I gotta be careful cause-cause I make messes. I help clean messes.” he babbled a few things, most slurred and unable to be fully understood in his toddler talk.

“I-I see,” Macaque nodded, his voice strangled but his smile sweet.

Xiaohua peeked out from behind Wukong, his shyness still evident in the way he tucked his chin. Still, it looked like so much fun over there-, “Daddy, can I… can I sit with Baba too?” His voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

“Of course you can,” Wukong replied, his tone gentle and encouraging. He bent down slightly, offering a reassuring smile that seemed to fill the air with warmth. “Go on, It’s okay.”

Macaque turned his head quickly to the approaching toddler, eyes wide. He swallowed thickly, slowly opening his arm a little in hopes to entice the boy closer.

With hesitant steps, Xiaohua made his way forward, glancing back at Wukong for reassurance before flopping into Macaque's lap beside MK. MK didn’t stop talking the entire time, his tail wagging and slapping at Macaque’s arm with little control.

“And I like juice and toys and- Hi Xiaoxiao- and blankies and—and Dada’s stories!” MK beamed, his enthusiasm spilling over like a bubbling pot.

Xiaohua nestled closer to Macaque, drawn in by the warmth radiating from his Baba. A shy smile broke through his timid demeanor as he clutched the edges of Macaque's scarf, feeling its silky softness between his fingers.

Macaque’s heart swelled with an unfamiliar joy, and it was all he could do not to break into a grin. He felt like a giant in their little world, these tiny beings weaving themselves into his life with laughter and innocence. “Stories, hmm?” he repeated softly, looking between the two boys.

“I like stories,” Xiaohua whispered.

“Do you?” Macaque’s voice was a melody, soothing and rich as he leaned closer to the boys. “What kind of stories do you like?” He closed one of his eyes when MK suddenly touched his cheek, startled when his pudgy hand curiously explored the expanse of his Baba’s face.

“Adventures!” MK shouted excitedly, his eyes sparkling, “Like when Dada fights bad guys and saves everyone!”

“Adventures,” Xiaohua nodded. He reached his little hand up to copy his brother, hesitating. Instead he touched Macaque’s chin lightly, curling his fingers through the fur there.

Macaque turned into his hand a little, eyes fluttering for a moment. Xiaohua smelled like wild mountain flowers…

The two of them together had to be the sweetest smell he had ever encountered.

MK gently patted Macaque’s velvety muzzle. He watched the older monky wiggle his nose in response, and felt his own nose crinkle in anticipation. MK examined Macaque's facial marking next. It was a deeper shade of red than his own, with intricate little hills that forked off from the center in a unique pattern. The color was like Xiaoxiao’s.

Then, there was his fur.

MK’s fingertips ran across the small white patch of fur near Macaque’s right eye. Perhaps age, perhaps stress- perhaps the effects of the Witch's magic; Macaque wasn't sure.

At the touch of it, Mihou flinched, holding his breath as his Child investigated, tilting his head curiously at the altering color of fur. Delving into the blacker tufts, he rubbed the strands between his fingers.

"Its..." he trailed off. Macaque's lower lip trembled, not sure how to explain that his fur just wasn't that soft. MK's eyes lifted, a sparkle to them. "XiaoXiao,” he gasped, as if realizing something and wanting to share with his Brother.

“It’s like blankie,"Xiaoxiao had already caught on, curiously touching Macaque’s fur.

Macaque openly stared. Huh??

MK and Xiaohua tugged themselves closer, tails swaying behind them as they examined their Baba for the first time. Little fingers exploring, searching, mapping out Macaque’s face to memory as they had done with their Dada so many times before.

“They have a blanket,” Wukong spoke, since the children were too distracted to answer, “It’s their favorite thing. I’ve used it since they were babies,” when Macaque looked at him with an emotional look, his voice grew softer, “You remind them of their favorite thing.”

Macaque blinked, the weight of Wukong's words settling over him like a gentle fog. He felt a rush of warmth bloom in his chest, an unfamiliar tightening that tugged at something deep within. "Like their favorite thing," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. The thought echoed in his mind as he continued to feel the boys' tiny hands traversing the terrain of his fur, discovering every ridge and curve. MK didn’t hesitate to bury his face against Macaque’s shoulder to nuzzle him, startling the older man.

He dare not move, shifted, or lift his arms, less he scare the children- but that didn’t seem to stop them from doing whatever they wished with his own form.

“Baba,” MK tells him, watching Macaque’s eyes tremble at the use of the name, “You smell like chocolate.”

Xiaohua gasped, standing on his Baba’s lap to press his face to his neck. “Chocolate?” he gasped, making Wukong snicker, knowing how much his second son loved the treat, “Chocolate!!” he squealed.

Macaque blinked a few times, trying to sniff his own fur. When Wukong only nodded knowingly, he figured it had to be true.

Macaque stared at his son, mouth agape. His brow furrowed as he opened and closed his mouth in slow motion, unable to find the right words.

MK scampered up Macaque's arm and onto his shoulder, chittering excitedly with an unmistakable tone of acceptance, adoration, and delight. Xiaohua was bouncing, giggling as his shyness fell, touching Macaque’s ears next. He rubbed them, always touching MK’s ears too since they were soft. Macaque felt awash with elation as MK and Xiaohua squeaked in admiration.

He understood nothing that was happening, but his children seemed happy with him. His children... liked him.

Macaque's voice sputtered out like a radio station losing its signal. "MM-hmm," he managed to utter, but his ears betrayed him as they twitched in different directions. His vision blurred...

He quietly cursed.

Macaque’s face crumpled, tears streaming down his cheeks and dripping onto his scarf. His body trembled as the silent sobs wracked him.

Wukong’s broad smile faded as he watched those heartbreaking tears. His heart yearned to reach out and brush away the tears that had started to roll down Mihou's cheeks, but he stayed rooted in his spot, feeling helpless. He wanted to offer Mihou comfort, yet his presence seemed like the last thing Mihou desired.

“Oo…” Xiaohua felt a droplet fall onto his nose and looked up to see the monkey's eyes closed, face wet and quivering. His chest heaved with emotion as his children reached up and tenderly patted his stained cheek. “Baba sad?” Xiaohua asked. He got a little closer, hugging the man and pressing his head to his chest. MK hugged Macaque’s head, patting it.

“Shh..shh..” He leaned up and gently pressed his lips to Macaque's chin, just like his Dada had done when he was feeling down.

Macaque's shoulders sagged, and a whimper escaped his lips. He tugged the boys further into his arms, his hands trembling.

His sons. His babies.

He was never letting them go again.

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HOW DARE YOU PUT THIS IN MY BRAINNNNN!

#lego monkie kid #lmk #answer #lmk mk #lmk xiaoxiao #lmk wukong #lmk macaque #shadowpeach #What would this Au even be called????#Eclipsed by two??#Double Eclipse?#The Eclipse of both Sun and Moon?#I DUNNO!#LMk fanfic

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prodigal-explorer · 1 year ago

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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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earl-grey-teacake · 6 months ago

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Love the new headcanons for the Baby!Loscar au!! Though the second Logan and Oscar start walking they are going to need leashes or they're going to runaway to find their best friend and get lost in the paddock

Thank you!!!

They will absolutely be leash kids. Kids are curious by nature and they want to explore the world around them with no understanding of consequences. Sure, some may frown upon it saying children aren’t dogs but they are people who have never had a child run into the direction of an oncoming vehicle.

Logan and Oscar are adventurous and bold, which is great for karting. It is not great for their parents’ blood pressure. There is a limit of how many times Oscar or Logan can book it out of hospitality before someone puts their foot down. Learning how to walk is one thing but walking and being able to open the doors of their rooms and playpens is another.

At the first the parents frowned upon it with Carlos and George saying their children were not dogs. That sentiment quickly changed when Logan booked it across the parking lot and almost gets hit by Toto’s Mercedes. Now since it was a parking lot, the car speed tends to be slower but that did not help anyone’s blood pressure that day.

So Logan and Oscar get little leash backpacks, bear and koala respectively. Logan tries to fight it like all toddlers do, kicking, yelling, rolling on the ground but his parent’s will not budge. He does give up, and relents to bring on a leash. No matter how cutely Logan begs and clings, neither James nor Toto or Jenson will free him from it.

Oscar does not kick or scream but he will lie on the floor in protest until his parent pick him up and carry him. He also gives in once he realizes no one will take pity on him. He has tried to run to Williams a couple times but was stopped by McLaren staff and Andrea Stella who carried him back like a sack of potatoes.

The other drivers vary on levels of amusement. Alonso and Max find it hilarious, especially when the kids try to book it while attached to the leash. Lewis feels bad for the kids but he was there when Logan almost got hit by Toto’s car so he doesn’t feel that bad. Charles almost frees them a couple times because they plead with him to but is quickly stopped by others.

Thank you for the ask!!! I know it took me a while to answer 😅

#f1 rpf #f1 rpf fic #logan sargeant #galex #alex albon #george russell #lando norris #carlando #carlos sainz #baby!logan #baby!loscar au #baby!oscar #Toto James and Jenson: I care about you and I want you to be happy but no the leash stays on until you learn to not run in front of cars #Charles: oh maybe I can let you go a little please don’t cry #Carlos: don’t fall for it. he’ll run the moment you let him go. and Oscar stop begging Charles to free you #Andrea Stella: let’s go Oscar *Oscar is laying on the hospitality floor refusing to budge*

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lili-lilith9 · 8 months ago

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I made this

Part2

Simon was a dedicated soldier in the Special Forces, known for his bravery and tactical expertise in the field. He had been serving for over a decade, and he was respected by his peers for his unwavering commitment to his duty. However, there was one thing that Simon cherished more than his job - his son, Alexander.

Simon's wife, Y/N, was a successful businesswoman who worked hard to provide for their family while Simon was away on missions. Despite her busy schedule, she always made sure to spend quality time with Alexander whenever she could. However, today, Y/N had an important job that required her to leave for the entire day, leaving Simon with their one-year-old son.

As Simon prepared to leave for the military base, Alexander toddled after him, clinging onto his leg and crying. Simon's heart broke at the thought of leaving his son behind with babysitter but Alexander's cry make his decision change. He decided to bring Alexander to the base with him, hoping that it wouldn't cause any trouble.

When they arrived at the base, Simon's teammates were surprised to see him with Alexander. They had never seen him bring his son to work before. But Simon assured them that Alexander would behave and stay out of their way. After all, he didn't want to be a distraction to his team or put his son in any danger.

As Simon went through his daily tasks and training, Alexander followed him around, fascinated by the soldiers and the base equipment. Simon's teammates couldn't help but smile at the adorable sight of Simon's son trying to imitate his father's every move. They were all tough and battle-hardened soldiers, but their hearts melted at the sight of the little child.

But the highlight of Alexander's day was when he stumbled upon the Task Force 141. The elite team's members were on break, and they immediately noticed the little toddler wandering around the base. They were surprised to see a child in such a high-security area, but as soon as they saw Simon, they realized the reason for his presence.

Simon introduced Alexander to his teammates, and they were amazed by how smart and curious the little boy was. They played with him, let him explore their gear, and even showed him some military exercises. Alexander was thrilled and couldn't stop giggling as he tried to mimic their movements.

One of the Task Force members, John, took a particular liking to Alexander. He was known to be the toughest and most serious out of all of them, but Alexander's innocence and joy seemed to bring out a different side of him. He even let Alexander wear his helmet, which delighted the little boy to no end.

As the day went on, Alexander formed a bond with the Task Force 141, and they all adored him. Even Simon was amazed at how well his son was getting along with the soldiers. He couldn't help but feel proud of his little boy, who was fearless and curious, just like his father.

In the evening, when Simon had to train some new soldiers, Alexander continued to play with the Task Force members. He sat on their laps, played with their toys, and even tried to imitate their weapons. The soldiers were more than happy to entertain and keep an eye on him while Simon was busy with his duties.

When it was time for Simon to leave, Alexander tired goodbye to his new friends. He had the time of his life, and he wouldn't forget the adventure he had at the military base. As they drove back home, Simon couldn't stop smiling at his son's innocent excitement. He was proud of his little boy and grateful to his teammates for taking such good care of him.

part 1

part 3

part 4

#simon riley fluff #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you

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nerodivergentgrimreaper · 8 months ago

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Redacted Parent Headcanons: Sam

(Listener is referred to with gender neutral pronouns also since vampires can’t have kids I did something a little differently)

When Sam’s mate came home with a baby they found in an alleyway Sam didn’t know what to do

The poor thing looked cold and hungry… and Darlin looked so worried

After getting the baby fed and put into a safe and warm place to sleep the couple sat down and talked out what to do next. They had the space and the means of taking care of the little girl so they decided that they were going to raise the child.

After having David pull a few strings they were able to adopt the small girl and deep down Sam was thrilled he was given the chance to be a father… something he thought he would never be able to do.

He and his mate had a ton of fun planning out the nursery and picking out a name that suit the baby

His new baby girl was a very bubbly baby once they got into a routine. His heart swelled when his mate took on the parent role quickly. The contrast between the two was comical but very endearing

His daughter quickly became the most perfect thing he had ever laid eyes on. Her small hands very quickly grabbed on to his undead heart

The little girls laugh soon filled the hallways of his home and it was a sound he would make sure never went away

Darlin surprisingly loved decorating the space for the girl and getting her every toy a small human could ever need

Also surprising is when the baby grew into a toddler Sam ended up having to be the parent to put his foot down on things. His mate seemed completely under the spell of their cheeky toddler

The little girl seemed to be the most curious person he had ever met, constantly getting into things and wanting to explore everything… she reminded him so much of the wolf he fell in love with

Sam was happy to answer every question the toddler (Who called him papa) asked

Wolf pile nap times became a regular and it soon became Sam’s favorite time of day. Curling up in their big bed with their little girl in the center.

Sam never thought he would be able to have anything close to the little family he know has and every smile, tear, and giggle reminded him that he was the luckiest man alive

When his daughter’s hair got longer and started getting tangled in all of her adventures he called the one person he knew could help him… uncle vincent

It took about 12 times but he finally learned how to braid his daughters beautiful hair

They would go on family hikes and his daughter loved pack events where she would get to see all of her aunts and uncles

She took a particular liking to her uncle asher’s playful personality, chasing the wolf every chance she got

To Sam there was not a man alive luckier than he was, and his daughter was a constant reminder of that.

Tag List: @tanker-redactedaudio

#redacted asmr #redacted sam #redacted darlin #redacted tank

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t3a-tan · 4 days ago

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How would Oliver handle a human child that didn't have bad intentions but was not gentle enough? Let's say the kid just doesn't really understand the terms "gentle" and "fragile" well enough to know how to handle Oliver and somehow he ended up being held by them? He is so good with kids that I wanna see how he handles that

I had a lot of fun with this! Enjoy ^^

Word Count: 4071

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Oliver couldn't stand seeing upset children. Not because they annoyed him, but because sometimes you could tell just by looking at these children that they were being neglected in some way. Part of him was sympathetic— he had seen so many human couples in his travels and research, and it was often the case that the neglect was unintentional.

But still. Oliver couldn't help but intervene in some cases. Below a certain age it was too dangerous to approach a child— infants and young toddlers tend to put things to their lips, because that's how they explore new things; ie. Oliver.

Past that it was still risky, but he could handle the bruises. Children could be a lot more delicate than most think— once they are capable of reasoning and can communicate, it's simply a matter of finding how best to deal with that particular child in order to get what they need; whether that's food, attention, or entertainment.

Today, whilst checking the houses to update any files he had, he noticed a young child— perhaps only 3 or 4— who had been left all alone. No car in the driveway, no one else in the house. Their face was a bit red and eyes a bit watery, as if they had only stopped crying maybe ten or so minutes before he arrived, but they were still hiccuping and gasping every now and then, in distress.

After checking over his file and taking a look at the calendar in the kitchen, it became clear what had happened. Both parents had left to work and forgot to drop their toddler off at nursery— perhaps just because they were tired, or maybe because both thought the other would do it.

The toddler was half dressed too, so maybe they were in a rush; one parent could have gotten the toddler half dressed and then headed off and told the other to deal with it, only for a miscommunication to happen and…the poor babe be left alone.

With that investigation done, Oliver could not just stand by in the walls and watch. He could not rely on one of the parents realising what had happened, and the longer this went on the more likely it would result in trauma for the child. It may already be the case— though he hoped not.

Three or four…that was a pesky age. Some children that age could reason fairly well— some could not.

Oh well… I will just have to try my best.

He could see a few notes on the counter or up on the fridge mentioning a name that was likely the toddler's; Ava. With that in mind, he made his way to the living room, which is where she was currently sitting and staring at the door. He took off his glasses and left them in the walls beforehand, not wanting them to get broken.

Starting high was safer. From there he could gauge her reaction without risking a sudden grab or curious fingers.

“Ava?” He spoke out from on top of a toy box— the top of which was just slightly hard to reach. He stood still, watching as her head swivelled around to look at him, though she didn't move towards him at all, looking at him with a very neutral expression despite the sniffling. Oliver smiled a little, crouching down despite the fact that really he was the shorter one in this situation. It was instinct.

“Hello there…mummy and daddy went to work, didn't they?” He asked. That got a response immediately and she nodded quickly, inhaling some snot from all the crying as she began to speak, on the verge of crying again as if Oliver had just reminded her what she was upset about in the first place.

Most of it was incoherent— but it wasn't babbling, so that meant she was at a normal rate of speech. From what he could make of it, she was mostly repeating ‘mummy’ and ‘daddy’, mentioning a car, using the word ‘gone’, and it was clear that she was telling him exactly what he asked; her mum and dad had gone to work and she got left behind in the rush of things.

Oliver gestured calmly with his hands, showing his palms as he took on a reassuring demeanour.

“Shhh…shhh…it's alright. Mummy and daddy are going to come back.” He assured, reminding himself that children that age are more likely to understand positive language rather than if he said that her parents are not gone. “We're just doing nursery at home today, okay? Does that sound fun?”

She shook her head and wiped at her face, already starting to get upset again, looking around as if her mum and dad might just be behind her.

“N…no…” She hiccuped, voice trembling. “Mummy and…d-daddy…nn— need to…take me…”

Oliver's expression softened, his chest feeling tight at the sight. He tilted his head ever so slightly, debating whether or not he could safely be held by this child or not.

“Ava? Ava, look at me. How old are you, do you know that?” He asked, leaning down a bit. Luckily she did look up at him again, peeking through her fingers and wiping at her snotty red nose with her little hands. She sniffled again, eyes watery, but processing Oliver's question and answering in turn.

“F…four…” She murmured, voice still wobbly through her slightly uneven breathing. It was on the older end of the range Oliver had guessed, which was good, but it was still ultimately a risk.

Oh sod it. If I don't do something now she will get even more agitated and upset. Talking won't hold her attention enough.

He smiled down at her.

“Wow… you're such a big girl! And you know your own age too— very clever.” He gave her a moment to process that before continuing with a question, trying to lead gently into things to avoid making her scared of him. “Did they teach you that in nursery, Ava?”

She nodded slowly, looking up at him with rounded eyes, her lips a little purple from all the crying earlier. Thankfully, despite how she was anxiously fidgeting; rocking back and forth or clenching her shirt in a fist every now and then; it wasn't too difficult to draw her attention away from her missing parents.

“I can…I can…count…all way…to ten!” She responded slowly, wiping her watery eyes again and scooting a bit closer to the toy box Oliver was perched on.

“Can you? Oh, I would just love to hear that. Can you count to ten for me?” He requested. The more at ease she was, the less likely she was to squeeze him to death once he was in her hands. Not to mention the more comfortable she would be with him.

Ava nodded and began to count, looking up and to the side as she thought about it, slowly getting through the numbers, although she repeated some due to her frazzled state. Her voice was still shaking as she took in shuddering breaths every so often, but it wasn't as close to hyperventilating as before.

Oliver clapped his hands together, beaming.

“Bravo, bravo..! Hmm… I'm sure you also have lots of toys at nursery. Is that right?” He asked, getting a nod in return. If he could keep the child entertained until her parents got back, then hopefully this incident wouldn't repeat itself. “And you have lots of toys in this box too, don't you?

She nodded again, bright blue eyes staring up at him with much less wariness than before. She even scooted a big closer, wobbling to her feet and gripping onto the lid of the toy box as she stared at Oliver with some curiosity now.

That's good. Not for my ribs, but good for my mission.

As she leaned on the box it tipped towards her slightly and Oliver just managed to keep his balance. He quickly regained his composure, and walked slowly towards the right until he could simply hop off of the toy box and onto the TV stand right beside it. It was a bit lower down, certainly within reach, but he was pleased to see Ava was only watching him instead of grabbing him immediately.

“Can you show me your favourite toys?” He asked, gesturing encouragingly towards the toy box and sitting down on the edge of the stand, letting his legs dangle off of the edge as he watched, expression bright and warm.

Latching onto the distraction immediately without even understanding that Oliver was trying to distract her, Ava pried open the fabric lid and stuck out her tongue in concentration as she tried to pull out any of her toys. After a few attempts she let out an agitated whine, growing irritated. Oliver was about to intervene when she accidentally knocked the entire box over as she pulled her arms back out.

She stumbled back and fell onto her bum as the box fell, but she was completely unharmed. She momentarily examined her arms with an upset expression, anticipating injury despite their being none. Quickly, Oliver interjected.

“Good thinking! It will be much easier to get them out like this. Clever girl.” He praised, seeing how her eyes locked onto him and a small smile cracked across her expression, arms forgotten about as she quickly focused back on the toys again, getting on her hands and knees, just grabbing whatever was closest and beaming as she showed it off to him.

He chuckled slightly, leaning forward onto his hands as he engaged with her, getting more of a feel and understanding of her personality. Like most four year olds, she soaked up praise and attention like a sponge— but she seemed to roll with things much more smoothly than others her age might have. She was resilient, and self assured; even if Oliver needed to guide her there every now and then.

“Is that your favourite?” He asked, tone full of interest and wonder, as if he was just as excited about the random plastic tractor as she was. She nodded excitedly.

“And— and it's got…it's got um… a farmer. Called…Emma…” She announced happily, quickly dropping the toy onto the carpet as she searched for the farmer. During her search though she got distracted by the other things in there, showing them off only halfway as she piled the various toys around her.

She was playing with and fidgeting with them all individually, monologuing about what she was doing in what was mostly just incoherent babble due to her being unable to pronounce most of the words. That didn't stop her though, and Oliver happily listened, paying attention and engaging every now and then to assure her that all eyes were on her at that moment.

This worked for about twenty minutes until she started getting bored playing all by herself. She looked at Oliver, her red cheeks and purple lips having returned to normal by now since she was no longer crying, the snot having dried to her face. She waddled over to him and Oliver sat up straight, but didn't jolt or make any sudden movements.

She smiled as she snatched him off of the edge of the TV stand, Oliver just barely holding in a yelp as he had seen the hand coming at the last second. He winced, arms held awkwardly to his sides by her grubby fingers and causing his elbows to dig into his ribs a little. Her grip was tight enough to bruise and almost pushed all the breath out of him, but it was just loose enough for him to breathe.

“Ava— can you try to be gentle, please?” He asked, voice coming out a bit strained despite himself. He pulled his grimace into a calm smile, maintaining the same warm reassuring demeanour despite the aching pain in his body.

She paused for a moment, blinking down at him owlishly, not understanding what he meant. Her hesitation didn't last long though as she settled back down by the toys, laying down on her stomach and holding Oliver in front of her innocent eyes, her other hand coming closer to feel his hair curiously, mesmerised.

Oliver held still— squirming would either cause her grip to tighten, which could very easily break his bones, or it might make her afraid of him. He masked a groan of pain by clearing his throat, still smiling as her tiny but surprisingly strong fingers pushed his head to the side slightly.

“You're…as small as Emma..!” She declared excitedly, and Oliver winced when that grip tightened a bit more in turn. Any more and it could quickly become dangerous for him. He recalled the farmer she mentioned before and the size comparison— he wasn't unused to being compared to a doll.

“Oh yes, you're absolutely right! Good girl. I am just the right size for her tractor too, aren't I? Can you put me in the tractor, Ava?” He asked, trying to calmly redirect her and free himself in the process as soon as possible, as it was now difficult to inhale. His ribs creaked in protest, but he fought off the instinct to kick at all.

Perking up at the suggestion she immediately nodded, sitting up on her forearms as she looked for the tractor and finding it quickly. Once she had she shuffled around to face it, resting her cheek on the ground and smiling as she lowered Oliver into the seat of the plastic tractor.

Oliver released some of the tension that had been growing in his shoulders, inhaling some much needed air as he sat back on the slightly too large plastic seat. Just as he was in the middle of recovering though his hands instinctively clutched the fake pink wheel in front of him as the tractor; and he along with it; was suddenly lifted into the air.

It was very disorienting to fly through the air like he was as Ava delightedly made chugging sounds and waved the tractor around to pretend it was driving, but it was preferred to the death grip she had held him in before. After a couple of minutes of holding on for dear life and just trying to pretend he was on the back of his bird steed instead, the tractor finally stopped moving around as he was instead held up close to her eyes.

Oliver was a bit shaky from the sequence of events so far, but he still managed to smile up at the giant toddler.

I'm not sure how many hours I'll be able to handle this. I need to try to explain how fragile I am to her…

Before he could even attempt that though, Ava was already speaking.

“I'll be the… the mummy and you can be the baby..!” She announced, and it was not so much a question as it was a role that, to her, Oliver was already accepting. That became clear when she began to babble about the setting and other stuff, but Oliver was more focused on the hand approaching him.

“Ava, listen to me.” He spoke with a slightly firmer tone than before, due to how dangerous this could get without intervention. She recognized that, her smile dropping and hand falling back immediately, eyes completely focused on him. He suspected he had very little time before she would lose that focus and grab him again anyway, but he sighed in relief that she had stopped.

Looking up at her, Oliver could tell plainly that his seriousness was putting her on edge. So, he shifted his time to be more light-hearted again as he smiled.

“I have a game for us to play. But you have to listen really closely to the rules, okay? Are you going to be a good girl and listen?” He asked.

His return to being more playful made her relax again, and she nodded eagerly at the sound of a game idea. Oliver was relieved. Some children were determined to get their own way, and would simply ignore the idea of another game for the sake of playing what they wanted to.

“I'm a good girl…a-already..!” She pointed out, a bit tongue-tied as most toddlers were. Oliver let out a small chuckle. It was easy to forget how dangerous young children could be when staring up into their innocent gazes.

“You're absolutely right. But, I still want you to listen, okay?” He emphasised, wanting to keep her on track. He cleared his throat. “Do you know about…Goldilocks and the three bears?”

She perked up and nodded, putting the tractor down in favour of leaning on her forearms and looking at Oliver that way. Taking advantage of the solid ground, he climbed out of the driver's seat and stood on legs that felt a bit like jelly from all the jostling that had been done to him earlier. She thankfully did not seem to have a problem with it, instead only taking the opportunity to reach ahead and give Oliver a small poke.

He stumbled ever so slightly, but got his balance back immediately and showed no reaction to the poke to avoid sparking any interest in that interaction. Not until he was sure she understood she needed to be gentle, and he could already tell she was getting distracted.

“In this game, you get to be Goldilocks!” He announced, adding a bit of theatrical flare to his words to make the idea sound as exciting as possible. It seemed to work as he saw her shift with excitement, eyes gleaming with joy. “Do you want to guess what I'll be?”

Ava ummed and ahhed about it for a few moments before looking down at him with a bright expression.

“Bear!” She guessed. That was exactly the answer Oliver was expecting and it made sense for a child of her age to guess that.

“That's a great guess! You were close too. Both things start with a ‘buh’ sound after all.” He praised, emphasising the phonics with enthusiasm. “I'm going to be…a bed.”

The toddler giggled, rolling on the floor restlessly as she took in Oliver's words. She looked at him, now laying on her back and seeing him upside down, thoroughly entertained by the sight and thought. As Oliver wanted, she was hooked.

“You— can't be a…a bed..! Beds are for sleeping..!” She pointed out, finding the absurdity extremely amusing, and intrigued by Oliver's game. He was quick to play into her playful manner, taking on a more humorous tone.

“Ah, you're right! Beds are for sleeping…it would be a bit silly for you to sleep on me, wouldn't it?” He pointed out, eliciting a squeal of laughter. Ava rolled back onto her front, gaze still focused on him, and hands thankfully clutching the front of her shirt instead of him. Oliver smiled, and continued.

“No, of course not… But, just like Goldilocks found a bed that was just right, I want you to do the same thing. And when I tell you it's just right, you win! If you win 10 whole times, you get a prize. Does that sound fun?”

Really it was a very convoluted way of explaining things, but Ava seemed to engage best with praise and play, so Oliver was trying to incorporate that as much as possible to keep her happy.

Ava nodded again, so Oliver explained the rules more clearly.

“First, you're going to pick me up. If you hold me too tight I'll say ‘too hard’. If you hold me not tight enough I'll say ‘too soft’. But if you hold me gently, I will say ‘just right’. When I say ‘just right', put me back down and we'll play again. Ready?”

Without waiting for him to say go, she was already reaching forwards and picking him up, her fingers quickly squeezing onto him in the same painful grip as before. Oliver expected that for a start, and strained to speak, hopeful that this method would work.

“Too hard…” He tried to keep a light tone despite the fact that all of the air was being pushed from his lungs by those deceptively small fingers. Realising that winning wasn't as easy as she first thought, Ava concentrated; tongue sticking out again as she opened her fingers a bit. The grip was much too loose, and Oliver dropped a little because of it, having to cling onto her fingers to keep from falling.

“Too soft..!” He spoke through his big inhale of needed air, relieved at the lack of broken bones despite knowing that this would involve a few rounds of trial and error before she would consistently know the right level of pressure. The fingers closed in again, just on the edge of being too tight. But, as it was close enough, and to avoid making her lose interest too quickly, he counted it.

“Just right! Very good job, Ava. That's 1 win!” He praised. “Aren't you clever?”

The process repeated again and again, and to keep Ava's engagement with the game Oliver offered up rewards in between rounds— like a finger five (which she liked a lot) and invisible stickers. By the seventh round she had learned that ‘just right’ was closer to ‘too soft’ than ‘too hard’, and so Oliver wasn't worrying about having his ribs broken each round anymore.

They reached round 10 very quickly, and she got ‘just right’ immediately, much to her delight and pride.

“That was incredible, Ava! I'm impressed that you got the hang of that so quickly.” He smiled genuinely. Although the bruises from earlier were bad and would take a while to heal, at least he could rest assured that he had a method to help prevent further bruising. “Your prize is… I'll play any game you want.”

Already he could feel the fingers begin to tighten again as her focus turned away from her grip and to thinking of a new game.

“But!” Oliver quickly interjected, stopping her in her tracks. “I'm still going to tell you if it's just right or not when you hold me, okay? Just to test if you're paying attention.”

It was all continuing to go relatively well, and Oliver was perfectly content playing along with the child's imaginative play provided his bones stayed intact. Whenever Oliver felt her grip getting too tight or too loose he made sure to correct her and heaped her with lots of praise once she got it right.

Ava had completely forgotten about her parents being gone, just enjoying playing games with Oliver.

Faintly, he heard the sound of a car pulling up beside the house, and although he wasn't sure if it was one of her parents or not, it was soon confirmed by the sound of the front door unlocking. Ava also paused when she heard the door, sitting up a bit and turning around, her fingers held in her mouth as she stared.

A woman burst into the living room, letting the door swing open and not bothering to close it as she spotted Ava on the floor. As soon as the toddler saw her mother, her grip on Oliver completely released as she began crying again, immediately returning to the same distress as before now that she remembered what had happened. Her little hands instinctively reached towards the woman, making grabbing motions.

Oliver landed on the carpet with a small ‘oof’, before backpedalling into the shadows under the TV stand, watching as the mother rushed over and scooped up the crying toddler, apologising profusely and smothering her in affection to try to get her to calm down.

He smiled slightly at the sight, relieved that Ava was now in her caretakers hands again. His body was equally relieved, and he winced as a pang of pain shot out from the various bruises he had acquired whilst entertaining the curious toddler.

He didn't stick around for too long after, once he was sure that Ava was going to be well taken care of. He managed to find the entrance he had come out from in the first place, retrieving his glasses and placing them on his face. His finger pushed at the bridge to put it in the right place again as he slung his pack over his shoulder and walked outside to whistle for Gale.

I'll have to cut this trip short…but the bruises were well worth it.

#g/t community #ocs #g/t artist #g/t writer #g/t #ask box #oc asks #giant/tiny #ask #borrowers #g/t fluff #g/t writing #giant/tiny writing #sfw g/t

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pixelnrd · 8 months ago

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The triplets eventually grew up into toddlers. Gone were the challenging days of infanthood, but parenthood got a whole lot busier in a different way for Heather and Jenny as their children became their own independent little people.

Jasmine continued to be their sensitve girl, with a loving nature and a curious mind. She loved to read fairytales, to be held by her Moms, and hated being alone - always tagging along with one sibling or the other.

Ginger was a busy child, always pushing boundaries with what she could do. She was little miss independent, always off on her own adventure, fearless in the face of obstacles which she would always try to overcome.

Quincy was still their wild, adventurous boy - always getting up to no good and exploring things he shouldn't. He never stopped moving from the moment he woke up, but his easygoing attitude made it hard to discipline him.

The triplets kept everyone on their toes, and every evening was a march to the finish line of bedtime. But Heather and Jenny finally found themselves having time to be with one another and enjoy eachothers company outside of parenthood - to eat a home made meal, to watch tv alone, to share stories of their children and laugh the end of the day.

#sims 4 decades challenge #ts4 decades challenge #ts4 historical #sims 4 historical #ts4 legacy #sims 4 legacy #the langston legacy #gen 11 #1990s #heather lenowski #jenny prescott #quincy prescott jones #ginger prescott jones #jasmine prescott jones

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lastflowerofyourhouse · 1 year ago

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thinking about harrow and gideon as teeny little children.

like. the adults around them were never going to let them be friends, right? harrow's parents and crux were never going to put up with that. but i'll bet there was a moment, when they were small children, when they could've turned it around and just been friends. but of course they weren't allowed to.

like, here's the thing about toddlers: they kinda suck sometimes. all of them do, and it's usually not their fault. they don't have a developed sense of empathy or consequences yet, and they can't regulate their emotions very well. they're selfish and egocentric and short-sighted. they don't fully grasp concepts like sharing or delayed gratification. they have to be taught these things. it's the responsibility of the adults around them to help them practice and understand. and if they don't...well.

imagine you're tiny harrow. and you realize, one day, that if tiny gideon has something you want, then you're allowed to just take it and nobody cares. meanwhile, all of your things are sacred and protected by the adults around you. also, you're curious. you're learning about people and feelings and cause and effect. and so you start to pick on her, experimentally, as is natural for kids around that age. and you quickly come to understand that you can do whatever you want to her, and nobody will stop you. but if she retaliates, she gets in trouble. you would have to be one hell of an emotionally advanced toddler not to become a fucking terror to live with.

and that's not even mentioning how the adults around them treated gideon. harrow's primary caretaker and role model was fucking crux for jod's sake. and little kids love to copy behaviors and play and help even more than they love to steal. if the adults around you treat one particular person like shit, then you will inevitably learn to do the same.

also, gideon saying that baby harrow saw her as, quote, "an object of tormentable fascination" is weirdly heartbreaking to me? like yeah, harrow was probably The Worst as a little kid, for reasons already explored. but also, there was only one other child in her life. one other child, who was just close enough to her age to identify with, but also slightly older than her, by just enough months to be cool. i'll fucking bet harrow was obsessed with her. they were both lonely and bored and they had never been taught how to make friends or be nice to people. i'll bet they learned to fight like that. harrow following her around, just trying to get her attention, not knowing how else to do it.

the fact that griddle is very obviously babytalk too...it just fuckin gets me. harrow has been trying to say gideon's name since before she could properly form the syllables. she said gid-oh. what do you wanna bet it was one of the first words she tried to figure out how to say.

obviously, none of this justifies what came next. this isn't a harrowhark apologetics post. i'm not trying to like...woobify her or something. none of this emotional rambling about her toddlerhood absolves her of responsibility for shit she did as a teenager. but still. god i get emotional when i think about harrow and gideon as little kids. they were so lonely and they had no positive role models and they were completely fucked over by the adults around them and i am going to cry.

#you ever accidentally write an essay because you thought about your favorite characters as toddlers and it made you sad #yeah me neither #griddlehark #harrow nonagesimus #gideon nav #the locked tomb #tlt #my post

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doodle-pops · 3 months ago

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Gentle Steps

Curufin x daughter!reader

A/N: If I had a dollar for the number of times I rewrote this, it wouldn’t be much, but I’d still have a few dollars. I had so many ideas when it came to writing this, I eventually settled on fluff and saved the angst for another time. He needs some soft content.

Warnings: none, fluffiness, toddler reader

Words: 1.1k

Synopsis: Curufin takes a moment to appreciate the joys of being a father from your perspective.

The sunlight filtered softly through the tall trees of your cosy home on the outskirts of Tirion, casting delicate patterns on the ground where you sat. The morning was cool, with a hint of the approaching summer, and the air was filled with the scent of pine and earth. Birds sang merrily in the branches above, their melodies blending with the soft rustling of leaves. You, a small bundle of curiosity and energy, were perched on a patch of soft grass, your tiny hands exploring the world around you.

Curufin watched you from a short distance, his sharp eyes softened with affection. The usually stern and meticulous craftsman was a different man when he was with you, his beloved daughter. It was in these moments, with you nestled in the crook of his arm or toddling at his side, that he allowed himself to slow down, to let go of the weight of his responsibilities, and simply enjoy the simple joy of being a father.

Your mother had been particularly tired this morning, the weariness of long days spent managing the household catching up with her. Curufin, seeing the fatigue in her eyes, had gently insisted that she rest, leaving you in his care. She had smiled, grateful for the respite, and now Curufin found himself alone with you, tasked with the delicate balance of guiding you as you explore the world.

Babbling happily to yourself, your words an endearing mix of sounds and almost words, as you patted the ground with your chubby hands. Your clothes were already dirt-covered, something your father chose to ignore, allowing you the joys of exploration. Crouching down beside you, his long, dark hair fell over his shoulders as he reached out to help you with a particularly stubborn leaf that had caught your attention.

“Look,” he said softly, his deep voice a comforting rumble. “It’s a leaf. It comes from the tree, up there.” He pointed upwards, and you followed his gesture with wide, curious eyes, your mouth forming a small 'o' of wonder.

“Gah!” you exclaimed, your tiny fingers brushing against the leaf’s surface, almost crushing it under you attempts at gentle touching. It crinkled slightly under your touch, and you giggled, delighted by the sound.

Curufin couldn’t help but smile, his stern features softening even more as he watched you. “Yes, it makes a noise,” he said, his tone gentle. “When the wind blows, the leaves dance and sing. Can you hear them?”

Your head tilted to the side, your little ears straining to catch the sounds. Then, a slight breeze rustled the branches above, and the leaves responded with a soft whispering. You couldn’t resist looking up at your father with bright eyes filled with excitement before letting out a happy squeal, clapping your hands together.

Curufin chuckled a deep, warm sound that made your heart leap with joy. He sat down on the grass beside you, his presence both reassuring and grounding. “You’re learning so much,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “The world is vast, and there is so much to discover, my little star.”

You looked up at him as if understanding his words, and crawled closer, your tiny fingers reaching out to grasp his larger hand. He allowed you to hold onto him, your touch so small and innocent that it left a deep swell of love in his chest. At that moment, he realised it was a different kind of crafting—a more delicate, precious work than any he had ever undertaken. Moulding, guiding, and teaching you required patience and gentleness, qualities that did not always come easily to him. But for you, he would try.

“Shall we go for a walk?” he asked softly, standing up and extending his hand to you. You looked up at him, your eyes wide with excitement, and wobbled to your chubby feet with his help. Your steps were unsteady, your balance still developing, but you were determined, your little face scrunched up in concentration.

Curufin kept a careful hold on your hand, walking slowly beside you as you toddled forward. The ground was uneven, with small rocks and twigs scattered about, but he guided you with gentle words and a steady hand, ready to catch you should you stumble. You chattered happily as you walked, your voice a constant stream of babbles and giggles that filled the air with a joyful noise.

As you walked, Curufin pointed out various things in the environment around you—a colourful flower here, a scurrying insect there—naming them in soft tones that made you listen attentively, even if you didn’t fully understand. “This is a daisy,” he said, showing you a small white flower. You bent down, your balance wavering, and he quickly steadied you with his hand. “It’s soft and pretty, just like you.”

As you reached out to touch the flower, your tiny fingers brushing against the petals, you realised they were cool and soft, leading you to giggle and look up at your father with shining eyes. Curufin’s heart melted at the sight, urging him to reach down to pick the daisy and tuck it gently behind your ear. “There, now you look even more beautiful,” he said, his voice filled with warmth.

You babbled in response, your words unintelligible but filled with enthusiasm as you gave him a toothy grin. Curufin laughed softly, the sound deep and full of love. “I’ll take that as a ’thank you,’” he said, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

The two of you continued your walk, your little feet carrying you with more confidence now. Every so often, you would stop to examine something new—a stick, a pebble, a patch of moss—and Curufin would crouch down beside you, his presence a steady anchor in your little world. He spoke to you in calm, soothing tones, explaining the things you saw with patience and care. Even though you couldn’t fully understand him yet, you listened intently, your big eyes wide with wonder.

After a while as you began to tire, your steps growing slower and your babbles quieter, your father noticed immediately. His keen eyes observed the way your little shoulders slumped and your head began to droop. In an instant, he scooped you up into his arms, cradling you against his chest, and you snuggled into him with a contented sigh.

“It’s time to rest,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “You’ve had a busy morning, little Miss Busybody.” You yawned, your tiny mouth opening wide, and your eyes fluttered closed as you relaxed against him, your small body warm and trusting in his arms.

He retreated to the house with steps slow and measured, careful not to jostle you as you drifted off to sleep. The sunlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows on the ground, and the birds’ songs softened to a lullaby as they sensed the peaceful atmosphere. As he walked, Curufin couldn’t help but reflect on the gentle steps he was taking—not just in guiding you through the physical world, but in nurturing the bond between father and daughter. His upbringing had been one of great expectations and intense pressures, but with you, he was determined to foster a different kind of relationship—one built on patience, understanding, and love.

He had been raised in a house of pride and ambition, had been taught to be strong, to never show weakness. But now as he looked at you, he knew that he would do anything for you, he would protect you with his life, he would teach you everything he knew. He would always strive to be the best father he could be for you.

By the time he reached the house, you were fast asleep, your little face peaceful and serene. Curufin carefully laid you down in your crib, tucking a soft blanket around you and brushing a gentle hand over your hair. You murmured something in your sleep, a soft, contented sound, and he smiled, his heart swelling with love.

He stood there for a moment, watching you sleep, before quietly leaving the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The house was quiet now, the only sound the gentle swinging of a pendulum in the hallway. Curufin made his way to the sitting room, where he found your mother resting on a comfortable chair, a book in her hands.

“She’s asleep,” he said softly, and your mother looked up, a smile spreading across her face.

“Thank you,” she replied, her voice warm with affection. “You’re so good with her, you know.”

Curufin sat down beside her, taking her hand in his. “I’m learning,” he said with a smile. “However, she’s a busybody, so she keeps me on my toes.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @sakurayaxd @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @aconstructofamind @ladyenchanted @addaigio @lamemaster @elficially-done-with-life @eunoiaastralwings @hermaeuswhora

If you wish to be tagged, click the Taglist Link to join.

#underratedcharacterevent #curufin x reader #curufin imagine #curufin scenario #curufin fluff #curufin x daughter!reader #silmarillion x reader #silmarillion imagine #silmarillion fic #silmarillion fluff #middle earth x reader #middle earth imagine #middle earth fluff #x reader insert #x reader fluff #silmarillion #doodlepops writings ✨

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elizabethsnuts · 1 year ago

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Secret Compartment

WinterWidow x Daughter!Reader

Summary: The Avengers noticed their things goings missing and a little toddler might be the cause.

———

As days went by, the mysterious disappearances of items around the Avengers Tower continued to puzzle the team. Small objects would go missing, and not seen again. It became somewhat of a mystery to everyone.

———

One day, as Natasha set her phone down on the coffee table, she got distracted and didn't notice when you had waddled over and stealthily snatched it up. You had become quite the curious explorer, and the allure of secret hiding spots had captured your imagination.

With Natasha's phone in your hands, you made your way to your nursery, where you had discovered a small compartment hidden behind a loose baseboard awhile back. The secret spot was your own little treasure trove, and you had been diligently stashing away objects you found around the tower.

Meanwhile, Natasha noticed her phone was gone and she began to search around the coffee table but it was nowhere to be found.

"Hey, Bucky, can you call my phone?" Natasha asked as she still searched around.

Bucky obliged, dialing her number as they followed the ringing sound. The sound led them to your nursery, where they found you crouched down, carefully placing the phone in your secret compartment.

"Ah, I caught you, Y/N," Natasha exclaimed, trying to suppress her laughter.

you looked up with wide, innocent eyes, your cheeks flushing slightly. You hadn't expected to be discovered in your covert operation.

"Busted!" Bucky chimed in with a grin, kneeling down next to you.

Natasha picked up her phone and gave you a gentle hug. "It's okay, sweetheart. You can't hide things from Mama for too long," she said affectionately.

Your pout turned into a small smile, and you clung to your mother. "Mine," you murmured, trying to defend your secret hiding spot.

Natasha chuckled, understanding her little one's desire to have a special place of her own. "I know, my love. It's your special place, but we should keep Mama's things in their rightful places," she explained gently.

From that day on, Natasha and Bucky kept a watchful eye on curious little you and your secret compartment. They made sure to keep things like their phones out of your reach, but they also allowed you to have some fun with your little hiding spot.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x daughter!reader #buckynat #daughter!reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x daughter!reader #winterwidow #winterwidow x daughter!reader #bucky barnes x baby!reader #natasha romanoff x baby!reader

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hayatheauthor · 1 year ago

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Crafting Authentic Child Characters: From Toddlers to Tweens

When it comes to writing captivating stories, it's not just about the plot or setting—it's about the characters that bring your narrative to life. Among those characters, child characters hold a special place.

Child characters, when done right, can hold a special place in your readers’ hearts. Think of YA series like Harry Potter or Percy Jackson- these books featured eleven and twelve year olds but their captivating tales and realistic characteristics drew us in. However, when done wrong, child characters can often ruin immersion and make readers feel annoyed due to their unrealistic representation.

In this guide, I’ve decided to explore the different pubescent age groups you often see in literature alongside tips to help you craft authentic child characters.

Understanding Toddler Characters

The toddler years—a phase characterized by tiny tots exploring the world with wide-eyed wonder. Writing toddler characters can be a delightful yet challenging task. These pint-sized adventurers, typically aged 1 to 3 years, are bundles of curiosity and emotion.

Characterizing Toddlers

Toddlers are known for their limited communication skills. Their vocabulary might consist of a few words or adorable gibberish. They often express themselves through gestures, facial expressions, and body language. Embracing their simplicity is key when bringing them to life on the page. Toddlers view the world with fresh eyes and uncomplicated hearts, finding joy in the little things like chasing butterflies or playing with bubbles.

Portraying Toddler Dialogue

When writing dialogue for toddler characters, simplicity is the name of the game. Toddler speech is basic and straightforward, often composed of short sentences or one-word responses. Capturing their enthusiasm is essential. Toddlers can be highly expressive, so use exclamation marks and enthusiastic language to convey their excitement. It's all about experiencing life's wonders, one small step at a time.

Writing toddler characters offers an opportunity to explore the world through innocent eyes and infuse your story with their unique brand of wonder and emotion.

Toddlers In Flashbacks

I would like to quickly mention that people don’t retain most of their memories from their toddler years, so if you’re trying to create a plot point surrounding a situation your character witnessed as a toddler it is important to consider whether a child that age would realistically even remember such an event.

Capturing the Essence of Children (4-7 years)

Children aged 4-7 are often brimming with creativity, curiosity, and a penchant for storytelling. Think back to times when you used to mix up shampoos in the bathroom to make ‘potions’ or create weirdly intricate plots for your ‘house’ games.

Characterizing Young Children

At this stage, children are developing rapidly, both physically and cognitively. They have an eagerness to understand the world around them, which often leads to a vivid imagination. Their capacity to believe in the extraordinary—whether it's magical creatures, talking animals, or hidden treasures—creates a wonderful opportunity for storytelling.

Young children are naturally curious and possess a boundless well of energy. Their interests can be diverse, ranging from dinosaurs and superheroes to fairies and space exploration. To capture their essence:

Highlighting Imaginative Play: Young children often engage in elaborate make-believe games. These imaginative adventures can be a goldmine for character development.

Embracing Curiosity: Encourage their inquisitiveness about the world. Show characters asking questions, seeking answers, and discovering new things.

Crafting Dialogues and Actions

When crafting dialogues and actions for children aged 4 to 7, it's important to consider their evolving language skills. Unlike toddlers, who may struggle with pronunciation, characters in this age group can typically speak properly. This means they won't say "sowwy" for "sorry" or "wuv" for "love."

Embracing Storytelling: Children this age love to narrate their adventures and dreams. Use storytelling within your story to reflect their imaginative nature.

Curious Questioning: Show characters exploring, asking "why," and expressing wide-eyed wonder. Utilize their questions and observations to drive the plot or reveal new information.

Navigating the World of Pre-Teens (8-12 years)

Many captivating young adult series begin with characters in their pre-teen years, allowing readers to witness their growth and development throughout the books. This is because writing characters in this age group, typically aged 8 to 12, offers a unique exploration of budding independence and the influence of peer relationships.

Your characters are no longer seen as little kids but at the same time don’t have the freedom associated with adolescence.

Characterizing Pre-Teens

Pre-teen characters are in the process of discovering their identity. They're developing a sense of self and often begin to assert their independence from parents or caregivers. While their childlike innocence remains, they're also exposed to a wider range of experiences and emotions.

These characters may show an increased interest in friendships, hobbies, and their expanding world. To capture the essence of pre-teens:

Embrace Growing Independence: Pre-teens may want more autonomy in decision-making. Explore their budding independence as they take small steps toward self-reliance.

Peer Relationships: Friendships become more critical during this stage. Show characters navigating the challenges and joys of making and maintaining friendships.

Crafting Dialogues and Actions

When crafting dialogues and actions for pre-teen characters, consider their evolving perspectives and emerging voices:

Balancing Childlike Wonder: While they're growing up, pre-teens still retain their childlike curiosity and wonder. Don't shy away from showcasing these traits.

Beginning Adolescence: Pre-teens may start experiencing pre-adolescent changes. This could include minor mood swings, increased self-awareness, and curiosity about the world's complexities.

Tweens: Balancing Innocence and Growing Up (13-14 years)

As we move forward into the world of tweens, we encounter characters aged 13 to 14—the age where innocence meets the beginnings of adolescence. Crafting characters in this age group offers an exciting opportunity to explore the challenges and interests of this transitional stage.

Characterizing Tweens

Tweens are on the cusp of adolescence, and their experiences reflect this delicate balance between childhood and growing up. They're often navigating the complexities of middle school, peer dynamics, and a burgeoning sense of self.

Tweens may still possess a childlike wonder, but they're increasingly exposed to more mature themes. To capture the essence of tweens:

Emerging Independence: Tweens may desire more autonomy and may challenge authority figures as they assert their individuality.

Peer Influence: Friendships take on even greater significance. Characters in this age group may grapple with peer pressure and the need to fit in.

Crafting Dialogues and Actions

When crafting dialogues and actions for tween characters, consider the delicate balance they strike:

Retaining Childlike Charm: Tweens often have endearing quirks and moments of innocence. Don't lose sight of these traits.

Exploring Pre-Adolescence: As they begin to encounter the complexities of growing up, characters in this age group may exhibit curiosity about more mature topics while still experiencing occasional moments of youthful naivety.

Writing tween characters allows for a captivating exploration of the liminal space between childhood and adolescence, where they teeter on the brink of exciting self-discovery.

Creating Memorable Child Characters

Now that we've explored the unique characteristics and development stages of child characters, it's time to discuss how to craft memorable and well-rounded child characters, regardless of their age.

Developing Distinct Personalities

Each child character you create should have a distinct personality, just like any adult character. Think about their likes, dislikes, fears, and dreams. Are they adventurous, introverted, mischievous, or kind-hearted? Consider how their personalities align with their age group.

Character Growth and Development

While child characters start with a certain set of traits, they should also experience growth and change throughout your story. Whether it's learning important life lessons or maturing in their outlook, character arcs are just as relevant for children as they are for adults.

Examples from Literature

To better understand how to create memorable child characters, let's turn to some examples from literature. Take, for instance, Scout Finch from "To Kill a Mockingbird" by Harper Lee. She's curious, brave, and compassionate, making her a beloved child character who evolves throughout the novel.

Or consider the character of Matilda from Roald Dahl's "Matilda." She's an exceptionally bright and resilient child character who learns to harness her unique abilities.

These examples show how well-crafted child characters can leave a lasting impact on readers.

Crafting Authentic Child Dialogue: Dos and Don'ts

Writing dialogue for child characters can be both challenging and rewarding. It's important to strike the right balance between authenticity and readability. Here are some dos and don'ts to keep in mind:

Dos:

Capture Their Perspective: Remember that children see the world differently. Describe events and surroundings through their eyes. Use simple language when necessary to reflect their understanding.

Embrace Authenticity: Children may use slang, colloquialisms, or unique phrases. Incorporate these sparingly to add authenticity to their speech.

Show Growth: As your child characters mature throughout the story, their speech should evolve too. Gradually introduce more complex vocabulary and sentence structures.

Reflect Emotions: Children express emotions openly. Use dialogue to convey their feelings, whether it's unbridled enthusiasm, innocent curiosity, or the occasional temper tantrum.

Don'ts:

Avoid Stereotypes: While children may display certain traits based on their age, avoid falling into clichéd stereotypes. Each child is unique, so give your characters depth beyond typical traits.

Steer Clear of Exaggeration: While child characters can be quirky and funny, be cautious not to make their dialogue overly cute or exaggerated, which can become grating to readers.

Limit 'Baby Talk': Especially for older child characters, avoid excessive use of baby talk or mispronunciations unless it's essential to the story.

Don't Oversimplify: While simplicity is key, don't underestimate your young readers. Children can understand complex emotions and ideas if presented in a relatable way.

By keeping these dos and don'ts in mind, you can create dialogue that feels authentic, engages young readers, and adds depth to your child characters.

Crafting authentic child characters can be a fulfilling journey for writers. Whether you're depicting the innocence of a toddler, the imaginative spirit of a young child, the evolving personality of a tween, or the budding independence of a pre-teen, these characters can add depth and heart to your stories.

Remember, each child character is a unique individual with their own quirks, dreams, and potential for growth.

I hope this blog on Crafting Authentic Child Characters: From Toddlers to Tweens will help you in your writing journey. Be sure to comment any tips of your own to help your fellow authors prosper, and follow my blog for new blog updates every Monday and Thursday.

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks?

Are you an author looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Or do you want to learn about how to get a literary agent, get published and properly market your book? Consider checking out the rest of Haya’s book blog where I post writing and publishing tips for authors every Monday and Thursday! And don’t forget to head over to my TikTok and Instagram profiles @hayatheauthor to learn more about my WIP and writing journey!

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tiddie-taylor · 6 months ago

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Updated nostalgia info/headcanons

(ref sheets are at the bottom of the Post)

Basic information + personality

nostalgia's sexuality is aromantic-asexual or for short just aroace

she arrived in headquarters a little before the events of io2

Nostalgia inherited Joy's glow but her glow is slightly dimmer than Joy's and is more on the deeper blue side in comparison

She is in between both being pessimistic and optimistic and she is capable of being both or one another

She's caring and sweet for a lot of times but stern/tough about those she cares deeply for

She's also very possessive or her mother's especially Sadness and will do anything for them but she loves them deeply nonetheless

shes the in between mature and childish, she's almost a healthy balance

She's a quick thinker and gathers ideas quickly for the emotions that can help Riley in the future or now

She's very compassionate about a lot of things she's into

She's motherly (even if she's without a child, gets it from her experience of being the only emotion technically raised by a parental figure) to the emotions and will do anything in her helping to give them the advice or help they need

She's a helper around headquarters to make up for the lack of work she has to do on the console and usually likes to help sort things out around headquarters etc etc

little Nostalgia info

little Nostalgia is a curious little emotion and loves to explore headquarters and ask questions about it and how things work around headquarters

She's quite optimistic and a happy child but can be a little fragile when it comes to her feelings being hurt

She isn't the most understanding type of person but is always willing to learn to understand things better

She's very attached to her mother's and can tend to be a little upset when left alone without them or just alone in general for too long

She's quite energetic for her small size and likes to walk around headquarters and play while the others work

She is pretty naive at most times but she tries her best

Little nostalgia (around kid to toddler) is around half the height or just a little above that to anger but is taller than envy

Anger is one of her favourite emotions besides her mother's to be around (he's like a cool uncle to her!)

Physical appearance of both adult and baby version

Adult nostalgia is slightly taller than disgust yet is still shorter than fear while baby Nostalgia is roughly around one and a half memories tall (maybe slightly bigger) while first born nostalgia (around one and a half weeks old) is only one memory tall.

Adult nostalgia does in fact have eye wrinkles/eye bags designed that way just as a simple character quirk and from her lack of sleep

nostalgia has chest scars from a past surgery to help shrink down her bust as she was unhappy with her appearance before surgery

Nostalgia is a little chubby like her mama Sadness but is a little more stretched out body type wise as an adult/teen while baby nostalgia has a more stubby and rounder body type in comparison to her adult self

Just like joy and disgust nostalgia is seen with differently colored lips that being a darker blue then the blue side of her body

Her eyes are the same shade of blue as sadness' eyes

More facts

Nostalgia is ambidextrous

When Nostalgia is nervous or in distress she likes to hide herself in her coat

Nostalgia has the ability to change memories the same way sadness is able to

Nostalgia is slightly nearsighted but her vision is good enough where she doesn't constantly need to wear glasses although she does struggle to read on her own.

She does not create her own memories as often as the other emotions do. her job is mainly to turn memories nostalgic by touching already made memories that she or other emotions bring up to headquarters, but she has a unique ability where her memories move! For example the colours of regular mixed memories stay in place while with Nostalgia's memories the colours move and mix around, the colours are never still.

One of her favorite things to do is to let Riley do the things Riley used to do when she was younger like watching old childhood shows or playing with older toys etc etc

Nostalgia can sometimes go completely non verbal when upset or in distress and it is mostly out of her control

Voice claims

Adult nostalgia: Agnes from fantastic Mr Fox

toddler nostalgia: Socks from Bluey

Parents

Joy

Sadness

Disgust

Adult ref sheet

I've decided to give an update to nostalgia's outfit along with adding some more color (and pockets! :3)

Note: the scars seen are from surgery

Baby ref sheet

mainly made this one just to get a better look at baby nostalgia up close in detail

Also if you'd like to ask questions about nostalgia feel free to ask :3

#inside out #inside out fandom #inside out 2 #inside out oc #inside out fanchild #fanchild #disoyness #my art #txt #long post #sfw nudity

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piratefalls · 11 months ago

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i'm back with a header i like a lot more. this one's a little shorter than usual, but still has a little of everything. also, instead of individual links we've graduated to a masterlist!

masterlist.

you've ruined my life (by not being mine) by coffeecatsme

“I have a secret,” Alex whispers in his ear—he’s sprawled over Henry on the couch, calves and thighs and chests pressed together, breath washing over Henry’s skin. “I shouldn’t tell you.” “Oh?” Alex nods vehemently. “Can’t lose you,” he murmurs, fingertips on Henry’s face, and Christ that touch is deadly. “Can’t tell you I love you. You’d leave.” Henry stares. “Oh.”

i speak in grey (to match the shades on the inside of my brain) by sticktothescript

He spends all of that week researching what non-binary means, but he pointedly ignores the squirming feeling of excitement in his chest. He’s just curious, that’s all. That’s all it can be. He’s lived his whole life as a man. He’s the First Son. There’s no room for testing boundaries when the people need him. --- or; a 5+1 of Alex Claremont-Diaz exploring gender identity

And The Show Goes On by orestespdf

For the second time that evening, a hand suddenly smacks his shoulder. Henry looks up, expecting Philip, but instead he is greeted with a smarmy smile. Henry’s stomach drops at the sight of the man who stands behind him. “Christopher,” Philip laughs. His brother stands, and he and the man shake hands vigorously above Henry’s head. Henry wants to melt into his seat and disappear. “I’m so glad you could make it. Henry, you remember my mate, Christopher Lewis?” Henry stares down at the intricately folded napkin in front of him. Christopher Lewis: 2011 St Andrews graduate, former head of the Eton rugby club, excellent skier, wine aficionado. Seven years older than Henry. Green eyes. Nice shoulders. Yes, Henry remembers Christopher Lewis. He wishes he didn’t. After years of not seeing him, Henry runs into Philip's old friend again. Fallout ensues.

heartbeats under coats by HypnosTheory

Alex, a DC lawyer on his way back from a work trip, is stranded in New York after a freak blizzard grounds all flights. He gets the last available hotel room on the island, but a freak error means the room is double booked. Unwilling to leave the other stranded, both men agree to share the room and wait out the blizzard together.

don't just give it up. by smc_27

Alex checks the flight path for the 12th time this minute, and then rolls his eyes and groans. Amy, next to him, opens one eye. He apologizes wordlessly and tries to stop being so fucking antsy. Look. Look. He’s got something - someone - fucking perfect waiting for him across the Atlantic. If anyone knew what exactly he’s flying to, they’d speed the plane the fuck up and get him there.

this moment in time by rizcriz

She moves away from the couch, crossing her arms over her chest. “What did you do, Alex?” He turns back to the table and puts his hands in his hair as he leans over the cup of coffee. “I made Henry a christmas card, and snuck it into his bag before he left for London.” “Okay?” “I may have used it as a vessel to confess my feelings for him.” He says it fast, almost too quickly to be understood, but June’s had a lifetime of translating Alex-speak, and he hears her quick intake of breath and pulls his hands from his hair to look over his shoulder at her. -- Or, it's a New Years to remember.

when the silence screams by teacupivy

Today, Henry comes home to a stillness that’s out of place in the usually bustling December air. It's only a little disconcerting. or Alex is incredibly frustrated with the state of life and Henry offers to get on his knees.

i dream of our odyssey by violetbaudelairequagmire

Alex rests his elbows on the counter of the small cafe attached to Bankston’s Books, enjoying the quiet period in between the morning stay-at-home-mom-crying-toddler storytime crowd and the rush of college students that appear in the afternoon. It’s only a couple hours, but it’s nice to have that time with just a few black coffees in between the rush of “pumpkin spice latte and a cakepop” and “quad shot espressos and keep them coming” that dominate the busy periods at the bookstore. He’s not complaining though- he loves this job. He gets a discount on books, no one cares how much coffee he drinks in a shift, and, in the last couple of weeks, he’s had a great view of the new guy quietly shelving books. it's a bookstore au!

Shatter Me by politics_and_prose

Henry is resigned to the life he's meant to lead until he meets a man so full of happiness and life that he's got no choice but to confront the secret he's been keeping for years.

Singularity by OrchidScript

"Henry didn’t try to resist. He’d lost his capacity for it the moment his scruffy looking nerf herder had stood in the White House press room and called Henry his choice. Under the onslaught of purposeful dragging of fingernails, featherlight touches under tables, the pink-bitten promise of more, Henry abandoned all defense. He willingly succumbed to his fiancé’s heated breath and honeyed words." The boys find inspiration in a hotel room armchair.

In Every Universe by clottedcreamfudge

Alex and Henry will find each other in every universe. A series of either explicitly or implicitly soulmate-themed AUs, which are all heading in one very specific direction.

You Remind Me of Home by athousandrooms & ifyoustay

Henry had taken the news that he was being summoned to England early much worse than Alex had. He'd left him with a million apologies on his lips. Alex had swallowed them all with a parting kiss and the promise of seeing him on the 23rd, knowing full well that no matter how much as much as he wished to, he couldn’t afford to travel with him during finals season of his first year of Law School. It's been a week, and Alex... Alex would give anything to have Henry here. But, all's well that ends well, as they say.

well we're not here to fuck ducks by stutteringpeach

Henry is looking for someone to help him with his duck study. He makes quite a serious typo in his 'All Staff' email.

with my name on your lips, tell me how does it taste by viciouslyqueer

“I don’t think anyone will be offended if two... very close friends decide to try it out, H. I certainly won’t.” Alex laughs when Henry fixes him with a half-hearted glare. “And you felt the need to track me down and show me this on a random Tuesday morning because...” Henry trails off with a perfectly arched brow. It’s infuriatingly attractive. Alex braces himself on the table and leans in, stopping with his mouth an inch away from Henry’s ear. He can almost hear him holding his breath. “Because I want to take my time with you, sweetheart,” Alex whispers sweetly. “And this is the perfect opportunity.”

Don't - Don't You Want Me? by absoluteaudacity

Alex is bad at communicating sometimes.

(you might be) someone i could love by weather_stained

(...or you're just somebody I fucked once.) After Henry has an anonymous one-night stand at a party, he can't stop thinking about the boy with the beautiful brown eyes and messy curls. Months later, Pez scores them an invitation to spend Thanksgiving weekend with June Claremont-Diaz, her girlfriend, and her brother, at her family's lakehouse. It could be the second chance he's been looking for, or he could be stuck hopelessly pining for someone who only ever wanted sex.

Locked In by allmylovesatonce

After their night together in Paris, Henry and Alex get quarantined in their hotel, locked in for two full weeks.

hours by demigodbeautiies

Although the White House is fast, the British press is faster. It has to be a leak. An accident. A screw up. There's no way a story like this would be allowed to break if anyone had actual control over the situation. Perhaps the entire headline is wrong, and the agonising lurch in Henry's stomach is for nothing. He reads it again. BREAKING: Son of US President Ellen Claremont abducted, held hostage. Watch for LIVE updates.

Forty-Four Days by bleedingballroomfloor

"God, I haven't seen you in forty-four days," Alex suddenly spits, and Henry feels the pain of his words in his own chest, like ice replacing the blood in his veins. Because that's it, isn't it? Forty-four days of separation. Forty-four days of waking up to an empty bed, of making coffee along with his tea only to realize that Alex isn't there to drink it, of long meetings without any of Alex's witty jokes, of cold hands on chilly autumn walks because Alex isn't there to warm them up. Maybe it's the simple fact of hearing for the first time, or maybe it's the tipping point of the taxing day, but Henry feels something inside of him snap, and — And all he knows is that he needs to see Alex now.

Hope is a Five-Alarm Fire by AnchoredArchangel

“I’m just saying- we know you, Alejandro. I've ran the odds and with your personal history of decision-making and impulse control, there’s a less than four percent chance you of all people didn’t shoot your shot. Even if he’s in the closet. Even if he’s supposedly straight. Even if he’s a prince. You love a good story.” Doesn’t he ever. Too bad he’s never going to get the chance to tell this one. Or: Alex returns to real life after crossing the actual Prince of England off his totally superfluous valid No Consequences Sex List. It does not go quite like he expected.

Wrap Me Up, Unfold Me by @sparklepocalypse

After the Kensington confrontation, Henry gets on the plane with Alex. (Or, Henry and Alex join the Mile High Club in filthy, spectacular fashion.)

Shameless by everwitch

Henry has a lot of sex. A lot. He's young and in college and there is no shortage of men to fall in bed with. What better time to explore what he likes and what he fucking loves, as well as to catalogue how to make his many, many partners feel as good as possible? It’s all part of the learning experience. And Henry is a very dedicated student. Alex has been inescapably aware of Henry ever since that one time they kissed. You don’t just stop being aware of the guy who basically caused your sexuality. So when Henry propositions Alex at a lame frat party, Alex accepts eagerly. Maybe this is exactly what he needs. Maybe, if he can just have Henry once, he’ll have a better chance of finally getting over his embarrassing fixation with Henry. It's worth a try.

3/4ths Cup of Love by inexplicablymine

“What the fuck are you doing with my pinto beans?” “It says I need them for pie weights.” “Hell no, baby, sweetheart. Over my dead body are you using the beans I use for mole for your quiche recipe. I would like us to eat these.” “Hey!” “If you put my beans in the oven, I will make it so you can’t possibly ever put a bun in the oven.” “Noted.” Or, The ups and downs of Henry learning how to perfect his quiche recipe.

A Practical Arrangement by kiwiana

“I know.” In fairness, he didn’t ask his mom to delay the wedding after the betrothal was made official when he turned eighteen. It wasn’t that she expected another option to materialise—he’s pretty sure she was trying to give him and Henry more time to get to know each other, maybe move past their open animosity a little. They’ve been pushed together every few months for the last three years, their marriage an inevitability. “I just… I still can’t quite get my head around it, you know? Married. To Henry.”

if you ever want me to tag you, let me know!

tagging: @starkfridays @stilesgivesmefeels

#rwrb #rwrb fic #rwrb fanfiction #firstprince #firstprince fic #red white and royal blue #henry fox mountchristen windsor #alex claremont diaz #rwrb rec list

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sloanesallow · 10 months ago

Text

give you my wild

Nearly a decade into their marriage, Sebastian and Sloane lead a peaceful, idyllic life in a coastal cottage with their toddler-aged son, Antony. As their anniversary approaches and they have the opportunity to spend some much-needed alone time together, Sebastian wonders if it is time for their family to grow. ✨Sebastian Sallow x F!MC Tags: NSFW! MDNI! Explicit sexual content, oral sex (f receiving), body worship, overstimulation, dirty talk, and Sebastian's fanon breeding kink. Also domestic bliss, sharing a bath, tooth-rotting fluff and Dad!Seb. [Read on Ao3] | [Read on Wattpad]

The Sallow homestead is a quaint, modest cottage on the English coast, surrounded by rolling hills and sprawling fields as far as the eye can see. It is paradise for Sebastian and his wife, their own little slice of heaven away from the hustle and bustle of the wizarding and muggle worlds.

Wife—Sebastian’s lips turn up in a lopsided grin at the word as he thinks about how lucky he is to have Siobhan—Sloane—as his bride. Ten years now he’s known her, and for ten years they have been inseparable, blossoming from friends to lovers to soulmates to parents. Every day is a blessing, the peace hard-earned and well-deserved after the turmoil of their younger years.

The decision to settle down came only after the birth of their son, Antony. His arrival was not necessarily planned, but welcomed nonetheless, allowing the married couple to retire very early from their Ministry positions. Instead of traveling the world as a curse-breaking-healer duo, the two focus on research while raising their young tot. To Sebastian’s everlasting surprise, fatherhood comes naturally to him, and he thrives, wondering why he ever cared about notoriety when life’s greatest treasure is family—home.

Despite the isolation, their location is in close enough proximity to Nottingham, where Sloane’s father resides. A few hours by muggle means, Mr. Sloane—Grandpa Sloane—is always ready to lend a helping hand. He is the type of parental figure Sebastian always dreamed of after losing his parents, forever grateful for the older man’s patience and guidance. That, and Mr. Sloane’s willingness to care for his grandson.

Even though Antony is a quiet and well-behaved child, he gets into his fair share of messes if left alone for even a second. At nearly three, he is an avid explorer, constantly covered in dirt from the garden, running in and out of the house to show off whatever bug or amphibian he’d dug up. His interests would not be an issue if Antony wasn’t also obsessed with sticking anything and everything in his tiny mouth, as if to learn more by taste.

Maintaining intimacy while nurturing such a curious child is not an easy task, especially when Sebastian and Sloane are still so enamored with one another, even after all these years. The so-called honeymoon period has endured, a bliss neither seem interested in losing. More times than not they are interrupted by the pitter-patter of feet in the hallway, and even when they do manage to copulate, it is usually with hushed whispers and rushed movements to avoid waking their son.

There’s been even more of a dry spell as of late, between Sebastian’s research and Sloane’s travels to Hogwarts and Beauxbatons to lecture students on advancements in Herbology. Antony has been rather clingy too, insisting on sleeping between his mummy and duddy every evening.

Suffice it to say, Sebastian is eager to spend some time alone with his beloved wife. Very eager. With their wedding anniversary on the horizon, it is the perfect opportunity for Antony to stay with Grandpa Sloane in Nottingham for the weekend. His son barely mumbles a goodbye, too distracted by the barn cats and the promise of a sweet treat to notice his father apparating away.

The sun is setting by the time Sebastian returns to the seaside cottage, the chilly salt air tousling his dark hair as he makes his way up the stone pathway. Smoke billows from the chimney and he can smell the Shepard’s pie Sloane is cooking as he approaches the front door.

“Sweetheart, I’m home!”

Sloane doesn’t seem to register his return, continuing her idle humming in the kitchen. Sebastian quickly shucks his boots, hanging his cap and coat on the nearby rack before moving closer to where she’s standing in front of the largest counter, diligently kneading a large mass of dough. He watches her as he rolls up his sleeves, a content smile on his face as he wonders for the millionth time what luck or divine intervention led her to him, made her stay. There’s a nervous flutter in his gut when she peeks over her shoulder and greets him with a bright smile.

“Welcome home, dear.”

Is it possible to fall more in love every day? They’ve grown up together, matured from the fire of youthful love to the deep, abiding connection of a shared life. Well, mostly matured. That passion is still present, a burning flame ignited each time their eyes meet. Sebastian struggles to tamper it down as he closes the distance, resting his hands on her hips, leaning over her shoulder to kiss her cheek.

“How was the trip?” she asks. He can feel the muscles in her back and shoulders flexing as she continues working the dough. “Is Ant alright?”

“He’s fine,” Sebastian murmurs, already distracted by his racing thoughts and the anticipation of what the evening might bring. “I think Ant loves his Daideo more than us.”

“I think Ant loves ice cream,” Sloane suggests, plopping the rolled dough into a large baking dish and setting it aside. She dusts the countertop with more flour, white specks sticking to her fingers and apron. “That’s at the top of every toddler’s hierarchy.”

Sebastian hums in response, unable to resist the urge to kiss her exposed neck. He smirks when she sucks in a sharp breath, the subtle tilt of her head inviting him to continue. Still, she squirms when he wraps his arms snug around her waist, pressing himself close and trapping her between his body and the countertop.

“Seb!” she playfully scolds as he nips the soft skin, kissing a trail up to the shell of her ear. “You can’t wait a few more hours?” she asks. “Aren’t you hungry?”

He slides one of his hands up to fondle a clothed breast. “Starved.”

“Sebastian!”

“Can you blame me?” he softly chuckles, not-so-subtly rolling his hips so she can feel how impatient he really is. “How long has it been since we’ve had the house to ourselves, hmm?”

Sloane sighs, melting under his touch. Too easy. “At least let me wash up, first. I smell like…mashed potatoes, hardly an aphrodisiac.”

“You don’t know that,” he jokes, barely pausing in his lavishing of her neck. He undoes the first few buttons on the back of her blouse so he can kiss her shoulder, too. “Sweetheart, you could be covered in troll guts, and I’d still devour you.”

Sloane’s laugh melts into a delighted moan as Sebastian continues, bunching the fabric of her skirt up until he can snake an eager hand beneath. He strokes her thigh before squeezing the flesh of her bottom, grinning at the silky feel of her underwear.

“These are new,” he comments, appreciatively.

“From my last trip to Paris,” she explains with bated breath.

“Bénis soient les français.”

He slides his fingers between her clenched thighs and groans at the warm slick he finds, the thin fabric saturated with her arousal. Slipping past the barrier, he rubs two fingers through her folds and up to circle her clit with a featherlight touch, one that makes her buck against his palm. Sloane’s head lulls even more to the side as she whimpers and rocks her hips, seeking friction.

“That,” he whispers against her ear as he slowly sinks his fingers inside her heat. She clenches around him and moans as he drags his digits back before plunging back in. “That is my favorite sound in the world, love. The sound of you falling apart under my touch.”

“I’ve been dreaming about tonight, Sloane, of having you all to myself,” Sebastian is reminded of just how long it’s been since they had the freedom to be loud, how long it’s been since she’s screamed his name in ecstasy. “Do you still want to wait?” he teases, darkly chuckling when she quickly shakes her head.

He crooks his fingers, expertly finding the sweet spot that makes her gasp and knees tremble. Sloane grips the edge of the counter as if it is the only thing anchoring her to the earth, and Sebastian presses his weight against her to keep her upright.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he coaxes, lips trailing down the slope of her shoulder. “Be a good girl and come on my fingers. I want you drenched before I take you properly.”

Sloane’s core is a vice as she unravels, the back of her head resting against his shoulder as her mouth falls open in a silent scream. A surge of possessive pride courses through him—he is the only man who can gift her this pleasure, he is the only man with the honor of seeing such vulnerability. She is still shaking when he retracts his fingers, bringing them to his lips to taste her sweet nectar.

She slumps forward a little, breathless. “Jesus—”

Sebastian knows he’s done a good job when she gets sacrilegious. He doesn’t offer much of a respite before spinning her around, swallowing her surprised shriek of laughter with a hungry kiss that is all teeth and tongue. He effortlessly lifts her by the waist, perching her on the edge of the flour-dusted countertop. Sloane senses the urgency, humming against his lips as her hands drift from his messy hair down to the clasps of his trousers. He leans away for a gulp of air and to watch as she tugs at the fabric, bunching up his shirt and pushing his pants down just enough to expose his cock.

“Fuck,” he hisses as soon as her delicate fingers wrap around him, the softness of her palm threatening to make him come right then. He blinks hard—he won’t last, but they have all evening, all weekend, to be slow. Right now, he’s desperate, needy for the feel of her cunt around his throbbing shaft. Her name comes out as a deep grumble, “Sloane.”

When he snaps his eyes open, her stormy gaze is already locked with his, pupils blown and expression just as wild as his. Sebastian doesn’t mean to be so rough when he yanks her hips to the edge of the counter, but her breathy laughter and sound of approval as she falls back is enough encouragement to spur him on. He bunches her dress up again, scooping her legs up so her ankles rest on the width of his shoulders.

With one hand he grips himself, pumping his length with a few strokes as he presses against the crux of her thighs. He pulls the soiled band of her panties to the side and drags the swollen tip of his cock against her entrance. If it were any other time, Sebastian might tease her more, edge both of their pleasure until it is too much to bear. But he is already hanging by a thread, the friction of silk and the tight, velvet heat of her encompassing him, welcoming him home.

He grips her thighs tight, pulling her closer as he slides halfway before snapping his hips forward to fill her completely. Sloane’s sharp gasp morphs into a deep moan and he repeats the motion over and over again. The recoil of his frenzied pace rattles through her body and she grips the edge of the counter, knuckles white as the flour that dusts the air and their bodies.

The kitchen is filled with the sounds of their labored breathing and slapping flesh, names murmured between pleading whimpers and desperate moans. Sebastian is unyielding, transfixed by the sight of his wife spread out beneath him, so beautifully undone as the pleasure he gives pushes her ever closer towards another release. As glorious as the image is, he can’t wait to shed their clothes and have his way with her more thoroughly, to worship every inch of her skin with his tongue and hands until she’s a writhing mess, begging for more.

He can feel the tight coil of his own release winding in his gut, his movements erratic as he pushes them both over the edge. With one hand braced on the countertop, he leans forward, almost folding her petite body in half as he loses the tempo and ruts against her like the uncaged animal he is. Sloane grips his forearm, nails biting into his flesh as her inner walls flutter and her body seizes. She cries out in blissful agony, and Sebastian echoes the mind-blowing sentiment, collapsing against her after spilling himself deep.

When there’s enough energy for their eyes to meet, they share a knowing grin—the night has only just begun.

After taking some time to satisfy their more practical hunger, the two eventually make their way to the bath, leaving the kitchen a mess to be cleaned up in the morning…or perhaps the morning after that. If Sebastian has it his way, they aren’t going to be leaving the bedroom any time soon.

For now, however, the two lay comfortably in the large, claw-footed bathtub of their ensuite, the heated water relaxing their aching muscles and washing the day away. Sebastian rests his head back against the porcelain rim, eyes closed as the steam soothes his body and soul. Sloane is settled against him, her back flush with his chest, their arms resting across her waist beneath the bubbly surface.

Silence used to be unnerving until he met her, learning that two people could simply exist. Sloane is the only person who understands him without the need for words, interpreting his moods and emotions with a simple glance or touch. To think only ten years have passed when it already feels like a lifetime—he hopes the love between them lasts for an eternity.

She lets out a contented sigh, her pinned up hair tickling his chin as she adjusts. He peeks open an eye, letting out his own cozy hum. His words are heavy and mumbled against her temple, “dun wunna get out.”

“Me either,” she whispers with a breathy chuckle. “Are we losing our youthful energy?”

“I certainly hope not,” Sebastian huffs, tightening his hold around her. He and Sloane have always had a very active sex life—fervent, wild passion, unable to keep their hands off one another. “The day I can’t pleasure you with my body is the day you take me to St. Mungos to be put out of my misery.”

“So, in ten years?”

Sebastian pinches her thigh in response to her tease, causing her to yelp and squirm with laughter. “At least we’ll have more privacy by then, to experience embarrassing sex injuries without traumatizing our son.”

“Ant will be off to Hogwarts, and we’ll have an empty house.”

He smiles at the shared assumption Antony will inherit magic. It’s not always a forgone conclusion with wizarding parents, but he doubts their inquisitive son is a squib. Another thought crosses his mind, and he shifts to sit up a little, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“Would we really be on our own?” he asks.

“What do you mean?” Sloane is momentarily puzzled. “Oh, well…I suppose father will still visit, though as he gets older it’ll be best if we go to him—”

Sebastian traces his fingers across her abdomen until his palm is flush against her skin. “I’m not talking about Daideo.”

Judging by her soft inhale, she realizes her husband’s meaning. The thought of growing their little family has been tickling at the edges of his mind, the idea of Sloane growing round with another child and glowing with maternal beauty—it is a vision that makes his heart swell and his loins ache with excitement.

“You know…” he drawls out his words, carefully pressing his lips against her damp skin. “I always thought we’d have more. A whole brood to envy the Weasley’s. Mornings filled with the patter of tiny footsteps and laughter…a house full of so much love.”

She doesn’t respond at first, her body somewhat tense beneath his touch. He glances up at her profile to see a hesitation in her expression he didn’t expect. As long as he knew Sloane, he thought she wanted the same—a large family to call their own. Had something changed?

“You don’t—”

“I do,” she quickly affirms, turning sideways in his embrace to look at him. “Perhaps I’ve been selfish in wanting to keep things the way they are. We’ve been so blessed with Ant…a part of me is…a little scared of changing that.”

Sebastian’s gaze softens and he dips his face closer to kiss her mouth. “There’s nothing wrong with that,” he whispers, smiling against her lips. “I’m scared too. What if…our baby is a dark wizard, or worse, a Gryffindor?”

“Be serious!” she chides through her snickering, playfully smacking his chest.

“I am!” Sebastian is equally amused, snatching her hand to lace their fingers together. She studies him, as if trying to determine how sincere he is about expanding their family. He brings her hand up to kiss her knuckles, the cold metal of her wedding band against his lips. “I want another child, Siobhan.”

The silver flecks in her storm-colored eyes shimmer as Sloane realizes immediately this isn’t some flippant suggestion, but a genuine choice, a heartfelt desire for their future. He studies her face, watching as she thickly swallows and slowly exhales, processing his words. The corner of her lip twitches as her cheeks flush with a brighter shade of pink, and not from the steam.

Sebastian takes that as a good sign.

“Even if I were to agree,” she eventually replies, not quite conceding to the idea, even as she bites back a smile. “It wouldn’t happen as soon as you say. I’d have to stop taking my contraceptives, not to mention the herbal tea you think smells like feet.”

“Because it does smell like feet,” he mutters, leaning forward to pick up the slow trail of kisses along her neck and collarbone. “Doesn’t mean we can’t…practice in the meantime.”

His grin widens into something wicked as he thinks to himself; “aren’t those the same precautionary potions you were taking when you fell pregnant with Antony?”

“That’s…beside the point.”

“Is it?” he hums. “That just means…well, I managed to beat the odds before, so who says I can’t do it again?”

Before Sloane can respond, Sebastian is lifting her from the tub as he stands, the soapy water splashing over the edge and onto the oakwood floor. She clings to him, a surprised shriek quickly turning into laughter as he carries her from the bathroom to their marital bed. He places her carefully across the fluffy duvet, her blonde hair spreading out across the pillows like a golden halo.

He covers her body with his own, hips slotted between her legs as he kisses her, their breaths hitching as his arousal presses against her belly. The levity fades as Sebastian’s hands smooth over her body, slow caresses pulling little sighs from her lips. It’s a struggle to hold back from ravishing her like he did before, his movements measured as he places kisses across her chest, balancing his weight on one arm so he can cup a breast in his hand.

Sloane arches into the sensation, her craned back as his lips wrap around a nipple, sucking it into a pebbled peak. He repeats the action with her other breast, spurred on by her labored breath and tiny moans. Her skin is still rosy from the heat of the bath, flecked with droplets of water that he laps up on his slow descent to the apex of her thighs. Sebastian spreads her a little wider, fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs as he settles before her bared sex.

“So beautiful,” he whispers, hot breath fanning across her sensitive skin. He glances up to lock onto her gaze. “The mother of our child—our children.”

Sloane’s only response is a strangled moan as he drags his tongue along the seam of her folds, licking up from her entrance to her clit. He wraps his lips around the bud, alternating between gentle sucks and flicks of his tongue. Her hips twitch up against Sebastian as he expertly coaxes out her pleasure, quickly bringing her to the edge of ecstasy.

Her breath hitches again as he moves one hand to assist, spreading her arousal with his tongue before plunging two fingers past her slick petals. Her core clenches and flutters around his invading fingers, a sharp whimper escaping her throat with each thrust and curl within her core.

“Right—right there,” she rasps, her words dissolving into another shaky moan as he strokes deep, fingertips rubbing against the spongy spot within her that sparks a tidal wave. Sloane trembles, hands snapping to clasp at Sebastian’s hair as her body tenses. “Ahh—Seb—Sebastian!”

He lets out an appreciative groan against her, lapping up her sweet release like a man starved. He’s consumed, rocking his hips against the sheets to give his aching cock some temporary relief. The exquisite sight of Sloane writing under his touch is something he’ll never tire of. Sebastian keeps his fingers wedged inside of her, gently coaxing her through the sensations as her walls flutter with the aftershocks of her climax.

“Mmm…” Sloane sighs as he gradually pulls away, giving her sensitive folds one last pass with his tongue before kissing her quivering thighs. He eventually pushes himself so he’s kneeling before her, one hand caressing her leg while he strokes his length with the other.

“Sloane,” her name comes out as a husky sound, a plea and a question all in one. He lowers himself, teasing the tip of cock against her, ready to plunge into her depths. “I need you to say it. Tell me you want—” he darts his tongue out to lick his lips, prodding against her entrance. “Tell me you want another child with me.”

“Yes,” she pants, eyes wide as she stares up at him. Sloane reaches for him and begins to loop her legs up around his waist, guiding him to her heat. She manages a reply between gulping gasps. “Sebastian, yes. I want—I need you to—” a moan interrupts her train of thought, and she presses her hips up, needy as ever for him to take her. “Mmm…please, please—f—fuck—a baby into me…”

Not expecting such filthy words from his wife’s mouth, something wild takes a hold of Sebastian’s mind. He lets out a gruff sound, something between a deep growl and rumbling moan.

“Roll over,” he grunts, not bothering to wait before leaning back on his knees to help flip her onto her stomach. Sloane lets out a surprised squeak as he yanks her up by the waist so she’s on her hands and knees.

He traces over each knob of her spine with his thumbs, squeezing the flesh of her arse as he widens his stance behind her, spreading her legs further apart with his own. She pushes back against him, seeking his touch where she needs it most.

“Please,” she whimpers, looking over her shoulder at him with a half-lidded gaze.

Sebastian struggles to maintain his composure, steadying himself as unfiltered desire spills from her lips. Her plea, laced with the promise of creating new life, stokes the fire within him into a blazing inferno. With a less than gentle grip on her hips, he positions himself once more, pushing the crown of him just past her entrance before pulling her back to fill her in one powerful stroke.

“Fucking hell,” he groans, the hot stretch of her around his girth wiping his brain of any coherent thought. All that is left is the primal need to claim what is already his, mark Sloane from the inside and plant his seed deep within her fertile ground. It’s an overwhelming feeling, all encompassing, and one that surges through him with every thrust.

At first his movements are slow and deliberate, eyes locked on the lewd sight of his cock pulling out of her before driving back in. But it doesn’t take long before Sebastian picks up the pace, his pelvis slapping against her thighs as she rocks back to meet him. Every sound that escapes Sloane’s mouth is pure sin—sweet, high-pitched cries intermixed with the most ragged moans he’s ever heard.

He can feel the tension of her body as it responds to his unrelenting force, his rhythm faltering as her core clenches tightly around him. Sloane’s orgasm shakes through her entire body, her limbs spasming as she cries out, her back a beautiful arch. Sebastian control frays at the edges and he spirals, falling over the edge after her with one last surge of his hips. With a loud, guttural roar, he comes, the intensity of his release blurring his vison.

Sloane’s arms wobble until her front half collapses onto the mattress. Sebastian keeps her propped up as he gasps for breath, clutching her waist and hips as his cock continues to twitch inside her. The overstimulation causes her to shiver, and she whines into the pillow as he lets out a litany of curses and incoherent praise.

When he finally, painstakingly pulls away, his eyes snap down to the pearlescent evidence of his release trickling out of her and staining her thighs. By some miracle, Sebastian is able to stay upright, swaying a little as he rests on his heels and tries to blink the haze from his vision. Sloane slumps and he catches her boneless form, easing her down against the sheets where she practically melts with a sated sigh.

As soon as she is splayed out on her back again, Sebastian collapses across her petite form, barely keeping his weight from suffocating her as he nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling the aroma of her sweat-slick skin. Her arms lazily encircle his neck, and he grins as a raspy laugh falls from her lips.

“Oh my God,” she softly exclaims, her hands smoothing across his shoulders, one threading through the hair at the back of his neck. “What was that?”

“Dunno,” is all he can say with equally breathless amusement.

Perhaps of his own volition, or because he’s still burning with a longing to see her fat with his child, he lowers his groin down to drag against her mons. They both hiss at the contact, Sloane’s nails biting into his skin. Sebastian lifts himself up just enough so he can glance down between their bodies.

“Is it too much?” he whispers, wondering if he’d even be able to stop if she says it is.

But Sloane shakes her head and arches against him, silently pleading for more, as if she is also being driven by some unseen force. He shifts his balance, lifting one of her legs to slip around his waist before guiding himself back to her awaiting centre. It might be his imagination, but he can almost feel his cock pushing his come back into the depths of her channel. Sebastian bites down on his bottom lip until the taste of copper hits his tongue.

He stays close, their chests pressed against each other as he rolls his hips, keeping a languid pace for both their sakes. Sloane sighs, hitching her other leg up to ensure he strokes deep, and rests her head against his as he pants against her shoulder.

“I love you,” she declares, and it doesn’t matter that it’s the thousandth time she’s said it, the words encompass Sebastian in a warmth he never wants to leave.

He finds the strength to lift his head so their lips can crash together, matching the fervor below. He reaches to grab one of her arms, interlocking their fingers before pressing her hand into the mattress near her their heads. “I love you.”

Sebastian slips his other hand under her and lifts her hips, supporting her lower back as he grinds down, straining to keep himself balanced so he doesn’t crush her. It’s a gradual build this time, but the lingering sensitivity brings about their shared climax much sooner. Sloane’s breath hitches and her thighs tighten around his waist, her barely audible whimper preceding more whispered declarations of love. He spills again with a strained grunt and remains nestled against her as they gradually float down from a kind of bliss they write stories about.

Sebastian could drown in the storm of her eyes and the way she looks at him with all the affection in the world. He slides his hand across her waist to splay his fingers across her belly, the two sharing a quiet, knowing look. Realistically, he knew it was unlikely anything would come from their union—unions—this anniversary weekend. But that didn’t mean Sebastian couldn’t hope or pray that he and Sloane would be blessed with a child once again.

Little does he know.

Five years later

“Pancakes!”

“Oatmeal!”

“PANCAKES!”

“OATMEAL!”

Sebastian flicks his gaze from one child to the next, feeling a little more than frazzled as his twin boys argued, Cailean and Finlay debating as fiercely as any four-year-olds can. Their shouting turns into menacing glares, prompting Sebastian to glance at his eldest who was sitting at the table watching his siblings with an annoyed expression.

“What do you want, Ant?”

“To be excused,” the eight-year-old mumbles in reply.

Sebastian frowns, still unsure of how to deal with Antony’s sullen mood-swings. He looks at his youngest, Ewan, who was sitting in the highchair with a cheeky, toothless grin. At least he hasn't started talking in complete sentences—yet.

“PANCAKES!”

“OATMEAL!”

Cailean and Finlay start shouting again, this time chasing one another around the kitchen, prompting Ewan to erupt into a fit of giggles. Antony rolls his eyes and shakes his head, letting out an exasperated sigh that sounds well beyond his young years.

Sebastian never thought in a million years that at the age of thirty he would have four sons, his genetics wreaking havoc on his peaceful life and blessing him with nearly identical copies of himself. With the exception of the twin’s blonde locks and Ewan’s grey eyes, most days it feels like he is surrounded by children under the guise of Polyjuice. And they don't just look like him, either. They all have some aspect of his wild personality, making him mumble apologies to the afterlife—was he this much of a handful for his mother and father?

Maintaining his patience, Sebastian manages to stop the toddlers in their tracks, trying not to laugh at their scrunched-up faces when they attempt to protest.

“Hey now, remember we’re supposed to be quiet so mummy can sleep,” he explains in a gentle tone, thinking of his wife who has been plagued with a cold for the last few days. “Why don’t you all go outside and play—”

“NO!” the twins shout simultaneously, and Sebastian really considers he’s been cursed, the universe delivering him his karma in the form of two rambunctious offspring.

Cailean and Finlay wiggle out of their father’s grasp and attempt to run out of the kitchen, only to skid to a halt when they see their mother standing in the archway. She’s a little bleary from a restless sleep, but as beautiful as ever. The two flash sweet smiles, folding their hands behind their backs.

“Now you’ve done it,” Antony mutters, scooting his chair up to stand. He plucks Ewan from the highchair, the babe reaching out to squish his older brother’s cheeks. They exit through the nearby door to the garden.

Sloane tilts her head as she observes the remaining two, who are trying their best to appear innocent. She tuts, shaking her head. “You heard your father.”

They are out of the house as if they’ve apparated, dashing through the kitchen door. “Yes, mother!”

With all four children outside, Sebastian sighs, welcoming Sloane’s embrace as she comes to stand next to him. He greets her with a soft peck, “sorry if we woke you.”

“It’s alright,” she says softly, plucking a stuck piece of parchment from his back that reads, dummy. Sloane stifles her laughter as Sebastian groans. “I’m saving this for later.”

He smirks, wrapping his arms around her waist as he rests his chin on her shoulder, the two glancing out the kitchen window to watch their children play. Antony is sitting in the grass with Ewan in his lap, chatting to his babbling baby brother about the plants and flowers that surround them as Cailean and Finlay run themselves ragged, screaming incoherent, toddler obscenities.

As hectic as the days are, Sebastian enjoys his life as a busy father and husband, finding comfort in the chaos. He kisses Sloane’s cheek, smiling against her skin. “I love you.”

She tilts her head back to look up at him and he raises a curious eyebrow at her devious expression. He nervously chuckles, “what is it?”

Sloane grins.

“I’m pregnant.”

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