an in depth oc about page for anyone who wants to use it. feel free to reblog / edit blah blah.
full name. pronunciation. meaning of name. aliases. age. date of birth. place of birth. zodiac sign. species. race. nationality. gender. sexuality. profession.
A lot of characters grow up having lost parents - typically because it’s plot convenient and makes for great emotional backstory.
As someone who actually grew up without my parents in real life, though, I know from firsthand experience that a lot of writers have a difficult time getting it right with characters, and simply don’t understand how to go about this process.
I remember one time in a discussion about Harry Potter, someone said that it was “ridiculous” that Harry would be so attached to the memory of his mother and father considering that he never knew them, and that he would mourn their loss. This was the silliest thing that I had ever heard!
I never knew my mother. She passed away when I was four months old, but I’ve mourned her loss throughout my life. I’m twenty-eight years old now, and it still pains me to think about what I missed out on because of her death.
I’ve lost others, like the grandmother who raised me. It’s not the same kind of loss. The sense of loss that you feel is the loss of potential.
When Harry Potter is staring into the Mirror of Erised, he’s mourning the family that he’ll never have the chance to experience. He’s mourning the fact that he’ll never have a mother and father to welcome him home, to celebrate his accomplishments, or to scold him when he gets into trouble.
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Another very common emotion for children who are left behind when their parents dies is guilt, especially when the people around them are still mourning the loss of the parent. This is something that I experienced a lot as a child, especially since my mother was very young when she passed away. (I’ve seen this discussed a lot in connection with the Steven Universe fandom, though I haven’t actually seen the show myself - sorry I can’t discuss that in more detail!)
Guilt in connection with a parent’s death can be a powerful feeling for a young child, and can lead to a lot of anxiety. It can make a child or young adult feel anxious about the fact that they were “left behind” and they may worry that they’re not “good enough,” especially if they’re subjected to a lot of discussion about how great their deceased parent was (which is common when people are still in mourning for the deceased parent).
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Another important thing to talk about is the fact that a child who has lost a parent can have extreme difficulty when it comes to separation anxiety. Even if the loss occurs very young, they will typically have strong feelings of anxiety when it comes to thinking about any kind of separation from an adult figure they have an attachment to.
They may worry more about the death of the adult figures in their life, especially if those adult figures are older (as may happen if they’re being raised by a grandparent). I was very worried about my grandmother and great-grandmother and wouldn’t participate in sleepovers because I couldn’t deal with separation, for example.
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And finally, as was already mentioned, a child who has lost parents at a young age has been exposed to death earlier than most children and, as such, may have a bit of a preoccupation with the idea of death that other children won’t. This could give them anxiety, or even a “morbid” outlook. They may be more “mature” than other children.
They may worry about being hurt or killed themselves. They may be in need of reassurance from the adults in their life that they’re safe and nothing bad will happen to them. (Take into account the way their parent died especially when it comes to the source of the child’s anxiety - I had a big hangup when it came to cars and driving as a child).
If your child is in a religious environment, they may think more about religion than other children, or even have anxiety surrounding their religion. They may worry more about whether religion is real or not - or, conversely, religion may be a big source of comfort for them because it means their parent is watching over them (if this is the sort of religion they believe in).
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Ultimately, just remember that a child who has lost a parent is going to have a lot of complicated emotions to deal with. If they don’t have a strong and supportive adult figure in their life to help them out, then they are likely to be a little bit emotionally damaged by the time they reach adolescence, and you’re going to need to deal with that as a writer.
Some of the things that you might need to work out include how they’ve dealt with their feelings of loss, how they’ve dealt with feeling “different” from their peers, and how they cope without strong parental figures if they don’t have them.
→ D’ANGELO LEE JORDAN 29 // ether// half-blood // gryffindor alum
midnight marauder tour guide - a tribe called quest // spirit in the dark - aretha franklin // blackman’s word (black man’s pride) -alton ellis // deep in a dream - hank mobley, sonny clark // baltimore - nina simone // lips of wine -dennis brown // a sign of the ages - gil scott-heron // burning of the midnight lamp - jimi hendrix // midnight - a tribe called quest // mood indigo - louis armstrong, duke ellington //here on spotify
iris is not sure who she is, torn between the morals her mother taught her and the lifestyle her grandparents gave her. she’s ashamed to admit she wants it. that she’s taunted by the manors of old money which hardly seems an appropriate term, with how ancient it all goes back. opulence runs deep, tempting her to sell her soul to have it all.
aesthetics: light reflecting off sea water, glistening // the sound of rain beating through an open window // diamonds sparkling in candle light // the rising sun during golden hour // chapped lips peeled raw // lucid daydreams that turn into deja vu // teeth grazing bruising skin // an ancient chateau gathering dust // the weight of a family legacy in the palm of a long thin hand // the tinkle of crystal cups smashing against a white wall // the shadow that catches in the corner of your eye making mistrust your aloneness // the pleasant burn of attention // the insatiable pit of hunger, mouth watering for more.
first impressions:like a midsummer’s day, she warms the room as she walks in— heel first, then calves to long thighs that walk with the grace of a swan, to hips that sway in a way that makes any good moral man turn away with a blush, to long torso holding long arms and delicate hands, with narrow shoulders and blonde head. makes you quiver in your skin trying to guess what the mischievous smirk on her lips could mean. an easy warm smile is never too far away from a face so sharp and angular. crystal blue eyes dance wild like a storm rattled sea, there is an unwavering self confidence and certainty that emanates, almost intimidatingly so, from her glowing skin. she is a wild fire waiting to happen, waiting to engulf you whole.
lose you now; lindsey stirling & mako | unstoppable; sia | give it all back; noah and the whale | family; mother mother | you can’t stop the girl; bebe rexha | glorius; macklemore | new americana; halsey
(theme) once upon a time - donna summer // once upon a time - donna summer // the witching hour - psychic mirros // figure it out (night edit) - ekkah // under the milky way - say lou lou // poor fake - kelsey lu // spring rounds from rite of spring - alice coltrane // summer - angel olsen // past, present & future - the shangri-las // sing swan song - can // here on spotify
full name sonia roxanna san domingo navarro • the “demeter” from the request found here • puts the “pro” in overprotective • puerto rican native • castelobruxo alumna • mother of plants • specialist in the dangerous, poisonous • mom friend • always available for a firm lecture • never met a grudge she couldn’t hold • in the UK in search of a cure for her sister’s lycanthropy, and unfortunately getting caught up in quite a bit of ruckus
D’Angelo (Angel) Lee Jordan / 29 / Author + Self Published Journalist
[ APP EXCERPT (tw// mentions of police and allusions to racism). ]
The rift between worlds is palpable.
He was late again. And when he was late it made D’angelo nervous. Standing there, he shifted uneasy wanting to put his hands in his pockets. To slouch against his primary school fence. There was a flat oval rock, medium in size, that was sitting within kicking distance of his foot tempting him to kick it, or worse, throw it.
Just as he makes his decision a flash of red, white, and blue catch at the corner of his eye and instinctually he stands up straighter, the grip of his back pack encloses tighter.
He tries his best to appear unassuming. There is a small beat up watch on his left wrist that he checks (though it has long since worked) in attempt to appear innocent as possible. Looking up and down the street for his father’s car which he prays will show itself. Where is he. The white police vehicle slows to a crawling speed. A threatening ‘whoop’ of a sound bouncing from it to let the young boy know that he is seen. That he’s being watched.
D’angelo holds his breath and looks down at the street. Desperate not to make eye contact. To show that he is submissive, the of his father echoing in his ears, “you mind your own business and never give them a reason to suspect you. To stop and talk to you. Even if that means your tie is straighter and tighter than anyone else,” which is hard to do when you’re so young and already know the effort is feeble at best.
They come to a complete stop and it nearly sends his heart through his chest but still, D’angelo keeps his eyes down on the pavement in front of him. His grip on his backpack growing ever tighter still. The police officers only pause for a second to peer at him before the wheels start rolling again but their intimidation works and the mere seconds felt like an eternity of excruciating torture. He hated them.
And for a moment he almost hates himself for being black as he is.
“Pigs,” he whispers underneath his breath, vehemently, like it’s a dirty swear word he’s saying behind his parents back. The force of emotion he suddenly feels is so strong and uncontrollable that before he can take a deep calming breath, the rock at his feet is sent flying to the back windshield of the police car, leaving a big crack as it bounces off with a bang.
From then on every day after school, he waits by the fence with his teacher but his father is never late again.
aes:a quickly snuffed out cigarette // lips pursed in disapproval // tightly closed doors // a perfectly aligned row of buttons // a grand piano that never gets played // little girls that are told to be seen and not heard // the layer of ice that forms atop fresh snowfall // cracked porcelain
needed:a perfectly-matched husband of twenty-two years // a brother who knows only cruelty // nieces and nephews // a sister and brother in law who she could never quite impress
