#a little bit of french when i was in primary school

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

déjà vu

déjà vu : a french term that translates to "already seen." It is a phenomenon where an individual feels a strong sense of familiarity or recognition with a current situation.

bnha chap. 362 n 403 spoilers ! childhood friends to lovers can you tell i'm inlove with this trope oooorrr…, angsty?? bittersweet hurt/comfort ?? fem reader, reader's height isn't specified but is shorter than katsuki's, reader gets a bit insecure but katsuki fixes that up rq, reader is very mushy n inlove with katsuki, (but aren't we all) katsuki loves reader very much in return

in his final moments, katsuki thinks of you.

he thinks about primary school. you’re both ten, double digits. foolishly believing you were all grown up. katsuki’s fingers are white and dry from cleaning up the chalkboard, since you guys were tasked for clean up duty today.

or at least, you were. but your classmate suddenly vanished without a word and katsuki, as nice and helpful as he was (to you, at least) decided to stay behind to help you, don’t ask him where your cleaning buddy went, he has absolutely no idea and has absolutely nothing to do with it. at all.

“ y’know—” he starts, soaking the soggy sponge into the water bucket next to him, then squeezing it out. “when we’re done with this stupid school stuff, i’ll go pro.” he states, slapping the sponge onto the board, creating a loud splat noise.

you, having heard this time and time before, simply look at him and smile, placing your classmates chairs on top of their desks row by row “mhm, i know !” you grin “ 'n you’ll be number one, right ?” you’re standing in between two desks, hands playing with your uniform skirt behind your back.

“hell yeah i will !” katsuki boasts, smirking. he scrubs at the board a little more vigorously.

“bad word !” you tease, giggling as you point at him “ 'm gonna tell miss you said a cuss word again !”

he huffs, turning around to scrunch his nose up and stick his tongue out at you, you stick yours out back playfully. “as if i care ! yer too much of a wuss to snitch on me anyways.”

“no I’m not, i’ll do it right now !” katsuki rolls his red eyes at you, returning to his task and wiping the board down in a zig zag motion. “ i don’t care” he reiterates.

you pout at his back and just then get an idea you’re sure will piss him off, a cat like grin pulls at your lips.

“okaaayy … then i’ll just tell your mom !” you sing, bursting into giggles when he swiftly turns around and waves the wet sponge in your direction. he’s too far to reach you but you dodge anyway, just to mess with him.

“no you won’t.”

“yeah, i will !” you counter, blowing a raspberry at him. you both break out into a fit of giggles when he aggressively dips the sponge into the water and flicks the droplets at you once more, before he decides to close the distance and chase you around your cramped little classroom growling and screaming, threatening you with the dirty sponge.

you’re squealing and giggling and laughing, trying to fend him off with a broom and even then, at ten. then when the concept of cherishing memories of the time you spend together wasn’t even an afterthought in his mind, katsuki remembers wishing he could stay with you like this forever.

when you’re both out of breath the classroom is just as messy—if not messier than it usually is. you give eachother a look then belly laugh some more.

you’re picking up chairs again and katsuki’s helping you, so it goes even faster. you don’t wanna go home because you won’t be seeing him anymore, but you have to admit your eager to finish and leave school.

katsuki’s back is to you on the second row and he can’t see you looking at him from the back row, he decides it’s time he says what he wanted to say before you got distracted. he clutches the legs of the chair he’s holding a little tighter.

“hey,” his voice comes suddenly in the quiet, it surprises you a little, you hum in response “ 'm really gonna go pro when we’re done with school, y’know.” he insisted.

you tilt your head wearily, looking at him with his back still turned to you. “yeah, i know.” you respond “you said that already.” you’re confused, he can’t hear the scrapping noise of the wooden chairs anymore, it’s annoyingly too quiet now.

“ you’re coming with me” he pauses, turning to you a little so you catch a peak of his quickly reddening face. it sounds like a statement but even then you know better. you don’t miss a beat, nodding furiously “uhuh, always !” his cheeks flare up more as he turns fully towards you. he walks over until the only thing separating you is the desk in between. he turns his back to you again to lean against the desk seperating you both.

“you’ll be with me, and we’ll be pro's together” he maintained. he feels his chest tighten when you offer him more of your pretty bright smiles and nods, you smile at him the way he knows you don’t with the other boys in class who are stupid enough to think they deserve even a second of your time and it makes him feel a little bit more confident as he speaks more clearly “a-and I’ll be number one, and you’ll be number two. but not behind me, with me, yknow ?” he feels stupid for having to explain himself but you don’t mind, as long as you can stay with katsuki you don’t mind which number you are. you move across the table so you can stand next to him. you nod and he let's out a little huff and a smile starts pulling at his mouth.

"a-and" he gulps " 'n then—i'll marry you."

it's quiet for just moment.

and then you register what he said and feel your entire body heat up.

"w-wha ?! " you sputter "marry me ?!" your wide eyes startle him as he glances at you but refuses to look over again. he's red to the tips of his ears, pulling at the bottom of his now longer tucked in shirt. despite the growing lump in his throat, he nods.

"mhm," he kicks at an eraser laying on the floor, the only noise heard coming from it hitting a wall a little further. you don't see where, you're still looking at him. " my ma says i can't do it now, since it's...illegal, or something." he scoffs dissaprovingly "b-but..when 'm older," he sucks in a breath, then suddenly turns to you causing you to sit up straighter in suprise, you feel your hands gripping the desk tighter and tighter as your face feels more and more on fire. "when i'm older—i'll do it. that way, none of those other losers will look at you."

he looks way more flustered than you but he's sitting up straight still, eyes determined and unwavering and it knocks the wind out of you, because for as long as you can remember katsuki's been the coolest.

there's absolutely no doubt in your mind he's embarrassed. if his face wasn't a dead give away, his posture and demeanor give it away just as much. you've known him for a long time now, since you were 6 years old and he had walked up to you. little newbie you, who had transferred in the middle of the school year and with nobody to play with. he was there, head held high with his friends in tow behind him, demanding to know what your quirk was and the rest was history.

katsuki persists even when he knows the odds are low, he perseveres and keeps kicking and punching and blowing up everything in his path where anyone else would've given up while they had the chance. like when he fought against those 4th graders while you were all still only in 2nd grade. his face was all messed up and he had a nosebleed, but he ended up winning. because he swore he would keep winning.

'cus that's what heroes do.'

katsuki fights and keeps fighting even if you think the odds are low, because he doesn't. to him, there's absolutely no doubt in his mind he'd win. even here, when he isn't fighting, instead confessing to you. he's red-faced, embarrassed out of his mind and nervous, but his shoulders are squared and there's no doubt in his eyes after he had just told you he would marry you. when he thought about being older, he thought about you being there with him.

and even after what you'd heard all you can think is that your katsuki is so cool.

so with a bright smile, bright eyes and the summer sun slowly setting in your empty little cramped classroom, you give him your response.

"mhm ! "

katsuki thinks about his last year of middle school.

today's the last day of your middle school life before you go off to high school and katsuki couldn't be happier to leave this shitty school. he's 15 now. older, but besides his features, remained the same (to you, at least) .

it's your last day and you finish it off with cleaning duty, ironically, and he remembers that day back in elementary. then proceeds to shake it off, hoping to shake off the embarrassing memories. but it doesn't seem to work because it feels like the universe is seriously fucking with him.

you're the one tasked with cleaning duty again and with your cleaning buddy, yet again, being nowhere to be found. katsuki yet again staying behind to help you out. and again, katsuki has absolutely no idea where your buddy went and has absolutely nothing to do with it. at all.

it shouldn't be anything new, he stays and helps, albeit begrudingly, every time you have cleaning duty. but it feels different somehow. katsuki chalks it up to it being the end of the year.

the only difference from last time is you actually finish in record time. usually, that would've been great news, less time at school and even more free time katsuki can spend with you.

but you're quiet today.

you usually chat his ear off, and just because it's you, he chat's right back. wether you're messing around teasing each other or just talking about your day at school or who's house you're staying over at for the afternoon and which movie you're watching, you're always talking about something. it's comforting where he'd usually think it to be annoying with anyone else. but they aren't you.

and he doesn't like it.

when you finish you reach for your bag sitting neatly on top of your desk but katsuki stops you, grabbing your wrist. the feel of your soft skin has him involentarily flushing lightly, he ignores it in favor of squeezing your wrist when you don't immediately look back at him.

"what's up with you ?" he questioned gruffly. it comes out harsh, but that's not what you hear. you've known katsuki for a long time, after all. he's worried, you can tell. his words are rough around the edges but his eyes are soft, filled with care and the soft stroke of his thumb against you skin sends slight shivers down your spine when you turn to look at him shyly.

you open your mouth to deny him, but he can practically read your mind "don't give me that 'nothinngg' bullshit" your nose scrunches at the way his voice raises in pitch as he crudely mimicks you and a little smirk pulls at his face for only a moment before it falls again " don't go lyin' to me. know i hate that shit" he rasped.

you sigh, he's known you just as long as you'd known him after all.

you lean against your desk and he copies you, your shoulders brushing as he scoots himself a little closer to you. you jump up a little to sit on your desk, you're the same height as him like this. he scoots a little closer and turns to look at you, placing his hands on your desk to lean on it, fingers inches away from yours.

"i just—" you faltered "this our last day of school. when the day is over we'll be high schoolers." you stated. katsuki scoffs jokingly and leans a bit closer to you "what ? you tellin' me youre gonna miss this dump ? last i heard, you were the first one who wanted to leave so you wouldn't have to deal with mr. nakamura anymore." he jests, trying to lighten the mood as best he could, the worry in his eyes still shining bright. a smile pulls at the corner of his lips when you huff out a little giggle.

"yeah well, i won't be missing mr. nakamura. or his stupid tests" you pretend to shiver as you cringe "at all." katsuki let's out a cute chuckle. he's like a magnet, you feel yourself scooting closer to where he's leaning next to you, like you're being pulled closer to him, you don't mind. you never mind being close to katsuki.

"but..?" he coaxed, knowing that wasn't all you wanted to say.

"but.." you continue "but i'll miss this, yknow ? like—the school itself wasn't..the best" katsuki scoffs in response but doesn't interrupt "the teachers weren't either. but—i dunno—this. being here." you confess, you stare down at your shoes as you kicks your legs aimlessly into the air " we've spent such a long time here, and now we're leaving. we went from being the youngest—to the oldest, to going back to being the youngest again, and that in itself isn't the problem.."

"then what is ?" he raises a brow.

"we're gonna be in a completely different school, with completely different people—"

"but we'll be together." he interrupts "you said you wanted to go to ua too" you said you were gonna stay with me is what he wants to say, but it's childish and that wouldn't be fair to you.

"of course, i still do !" you reassure "but—there'll be tons of new, strong, cool people at ua.."

"maybe even stronger and cooler than me.." you trail off. you don't need to say more for katsuki to understand what you mean and it pissed him off.

"shut up." he growls.

"katsuki—"

"no. shut the fuck up." he's right in front of you before you can blink. you reflexively part your legs and he takes the opportunity to stand even closer to you, right in your space. you feels your cheeks warm at the proximity, your close enough to see it's apparently affecting him too, his cheeks turning a cute pink but as stubborn as your katsuki is he doesn't budge. as usual.

you don't exactly know what you and katsuki are. you know you like him, you know you have for a long time. and you'd like to believe he likes you too. he doesn't act the way he does with you the way he does with his other friends (or his lackeys as he calls them, you're the only one he openly calls his friend) but he doesn't really have anyone close to him besides you, so you don't know if he'd act this way with someone else.

the thought leaves a nasty taste in your mouth, so you decide to focus on something else. something else being katsuki, of course, he's all up in your space. his gaze not allowing you to look or even think about anything else but him.

"who i meet at ua doesn't fuckin' matter, they'll all be weaksauce compared to me anyway" he states smugly, causing you to huff out a laugh again " i don't care if theyre cool, or strong" his nose scrunches up in disgust as he quips venomously "i don't care about any of that—and i don't hang out with you because of that either—i fuckin' care about you because you're you."

your heart stutters.

" what, you think i hang out witcha because of superficial shit like that ? you mockin' me or something ?"

"no, no course not !" you insist, shaking your head.

" exactly, so don't..." he huffs, looking away from you towards the ground, there's a random eraser lying on the ground and he kicks it "don't go saying dumb shit like that."

"i don't waste my time with just anyone, 's why i'm wastin' it with your ass" he jokes, chuckling when you squeeze his nose in response. supressing a smile you whine at him when he leans forward to bite yours.

"katsuki, you're gross !" you giggle as you push at his face, he smiles lightly at the sound of your laughter, one of his favorite sounds. "ya started it." he disputes weakly, his smile turning into a smirk when you groan and then it falls again as he looks at you seriously.

" but seriously" he starts "i mean it, y'know. don't just say shit to say it"

"i know" you smile. he grunts in acknowledgement then continues.

"i don't care about how cool those future ua asshats are gonna be. you're different, you're not like that—i mean—that's not what i look at—what i see with you" he fumbles around for his words and groans, slamming his forehead against your shoulder. you're used to katsuki being physical, but that was usually when he was being annoying, pinching and prodding and biting at you. he's rarely ever this affectionate. it's different, but nice..really nice, so you savor it while you can. your fingers twitch a little closer to his and you decide to take a leap of faith, placing your hands ontop of his. he flinches and you're about to pull back when he grips your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours. you feel him huff into your uniform. his hair tickles as he shuffles his head deeper inside your shoulder.

"you're not like those other losers, y'not like anyone" he explains "you're—when you're around it's like you're glowing. you're bright and when you talk, everyone sorta—gets pulled towards you like you're some typa magnet" his hands get warmer against yours as he speaks. you're surprised that he sees you this way, when that's practically the same way you see him.

" you pull people in so easily, and it pisses me off that you don't realise it. you are strong, and cool and everything else but that's not all you are. s'not all i care about."

"you're annoying. and whiney. extremely annoying, actually" he chuckles, and you pull at his ear "but—" he continues "but you're..fun to be around or whatever, wouldn't be around you otherwise. you're too fuckin' nice and your taste in music isn't bad" katsuki grumbles.

he wants to say more, so much more. he wants to say he thinks the way you immerse yourself when you're watching a movie together is adorable. the way you hold yourself back from commenting during the movie so as not to be annoying, even thought he could listen to you naming street signs and never get bored. the way your eyes light up when you get your grade back for a test you had studied your ass off for, when you come to him showing off your hard work it makes him want to hold you and never let go. he wants to say the way you're not scared to banter and bicker with him, the way your nose scrunches up when you try to hold in your laughter when he passes you a crudely drawn picture of your homeroom teacher, the way you smile at him whenever you see him, whenever he shares his umbrella or your lunches even though you have your own and he has his, makes him want to kiss you silly.

he wants to say all this and more, but he knows the words won't come out right, they never do. but somehow you understand and it's another thing he admires—that he loves about you.

"i...didn't know you felt that way" is all you can quietly muster up. you're cute, he feels you squeezing his hands a little tighter " yeah you didn't, cus i didn't tell you" he ribbed. you huff out a 'dont be annoying" gruffly and he chuckles. the asshole.

your asshole, though, your heart decides.

you're both quiet, everything is quiet and you're happy, reassured. you'd be happy if this is where the conversation ended but katsuki never fails to surprise you today it seemed.

" 'sides" he squeezes your hands tighter "i promised you i'd marry you didn't i ? how can i do that if i'm not around you, hah ?"

you're heart skips approximately three beats at the memory of his promise and you lean back to look at his fully red cheeks and his fleeing eyes.

"you still remember that ?" you ask incredulously. he rolls his eyes but you can tell it's simply to save face as he responds " of course i do. wasn't that long ago."

"but—we were like—ten when that happened. "

"so ?" he responds simply "doesn't change nothin'. i told you, i don't say shit to just say it."

you're flustered and so utterly confused, but there's a happy feeling bubbling in your stomach at his words " but we're not even dating !"

"we're not ?" of course not , he knows he hadn't properly asked you to be his girlfriend. but he figured if he talked about the memory that seemed to refuse being pushed aside, he could casually sneak by what he was too embarrassed to ask. but of course, you never make it easy for him.

"no, we aren't" you pout, crossing your arms at him. he grumbles, reaching to pull your arms away from your chest but you're stubborn, he was right about you being extremely annoying. "cut that out," he hissed.

"mm-mm ! " you shake your head "you can't just decide we're together. i didn't even know you liked me like that.." you trail off shyly. katsuki looks utterly baffled "hah?! whaddya mean you didn't know ? you don't see me actin' like this with anyone else do you ?"

"that's cus you're mean to everyone else !" you choked out, puffing your cheeks out at him.

"well yeah ! but—that's the thing, i'm not mean to you !" he defends, faltering when you raise a brow at him "fuck off, m'not that mean ! i'm just messing with you !" he rebutted. you simply roll your eyes at him and after a moment he sighs.

"fine" he concedes "i should've told you i liked you, i don't just decide that i want you to be my girlfriend when it's convenient for me or something" he keeps quiet about how you could of also told him you liked him as well for now, for fear of you getting moody at him again.

you still look away from him and he groans "hey c'mon, look at me." he utters sincerely. after a minute, you offer him a glance and he takes his opportunity, turning your face towards him, holding back a grin when he feels how warm your cheeks are.

"do you...wanna be my girlfriend ?" he stammers, looking at you with his red cheeks and bashful red eyes, and yet his gaze doesn't falter.

so cool.

it's your last day of middle school, your last day before you go off to a different school with different people. but with your katsuki by your side, and that's all that matters to you.

and with a bright smile, bright eyes and the summer sun slowly setting in your empty classroom, you give him your response by pressing your lips to his softly.

katsuki thinks about the night before today, when you'd knocked at his door in the dead of night.

usually, on any other day, he'd have scolded you for being up so late but would've ended up letting you in anyway. but lately, things hadn't been as they had been before..everything happened. and he could tell you were upset, so he simply let you in without a word.

you take the liberty of laying down in his bed like you used to back at his house and back at the dorms. he doesn't mind. it feels familiar, comforting.

he lies down next to you and you immediately latch onto him, seeking his warmth. with your head in his chest, you hold onto him tightly, like he'll dissapear if you don't. he clings to you just as tightly.

"what's up with you ?" he mumbles sleepily, softer than when he would've if he were more awake, but still focusing all of his attention onto you.

he feels you shake against his chest "jus' wanted to be wif you" he hears you mumbles. he presses his lips to the top of your head, pressing a sweet little kiss onto it as you breathe "you know that's bullshit." he reprimands, he feels you squeeze him tighter. he squeezes your waist twice, his warm hands running up and down your sides "c'mon, talk to me" he prodded

you look up at him and he looks down at you. your eyes are glossy, he can tell even in the dark and he's sure you were crying a little. his theory is confirmed when he hears you let out a little sniffle, his heart breaks at the sound. his heart breaks even more when you squeeze your eyes shut, gripping at the front of his shirt.

"baby," he pleads softly, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, mouth and cheeks when you whine. "tell me what's bothering you, yeah ?"

"m'just—you're gonna be fighting tomorrow, and we all are and i know you're strong but you'll be in the front lines against him" you blubbered, you hiccup as tears roll down your cheeks " and i know you're strong. but katsu, i can't—" you gasp. he shushes you softly, pressing kiss after kiss to your lips. he knows what you're gonna say, he knows you're worried. he's known you for so long after all.

he hated himself the day he woke up after the first war. when he woke up to you crying at his side, with you yourself still being injured. he hates how much he worried you that day and he knows that the fleeting glances you give him whenever you have a briefing with the pro's, the way you stare off at nothing whenever you catch a glimpse of his scars, are all out of worry for him. he did the same after he had found out you had also been heavily injured during the brawl, so he can't say he wouldn't do the same way.

"baby, babe—look at me" he intones softly, grabbing onto your tear stained cheeks to get you to look at him, he's close so he's sure you can see him despite the darkness. he can't help pressing another kiss to your lips " nothing's gonna happen, okay ?" he reassures, rubbing your cheek softly.

"i can't see you like that again, katsuki. i just can't" you whimper, leaning into his hand.

"you won't, promise you won't." he vows. he knows you're even more worried because you'll both be in different areas and he hates he won't be able to keep his eye on you. but you're strong and cool and everything else, so he trusts you'll be okay "i need you to trust me"

"i do" you sniffle, taking a deep breath "i do trust you, but i just—don't wanna see you get hurt, kacchan"

he sighs softly, staring at you lovingly as he pulls you towards his chest. you nuzzle against him and he presses his mouth to the side of your head. "i can't promise i won't be gettin' hurt, s'gonna happen on the job" he says carefully, rubbing your back "but i promise i'll always come back to you. no matter how fucked up i get, i'll win. for you." he declares, feeling you shove your head deeper against his shoulder.

you remember how despite getting extremely injured by shigaraki, he recovered in record time. it seemed nothing could stop your boyfriend from proving to the world he was the best. because katsuki fights and keeps fighting even if you think the odds are low, because he doesn't. because to him, there's absolutely no doubt in his mind he'll win.

and despite the worry and the fear gnawing at you, you can't help but think your katsuki is so fucking cool.

so you nod against his shoulder and he feels the collar of his shirt grow wet, but he doesn't mind as your grip on him loosens lightly until you can feel yourself falling asleep.

before you fall though, you hear katsuki speak.

"besides, i promised you i'd marry you didn't i ?"

he feels you smile into his neck, and you give him your response by happily nodding into his shoulder with a hum.

in his final moments, katsuki thinks of you.

he thinks of the promises he's made. he thinks of the promise he made to his old hag to not cause you, such a sweet girl, too much trouble. he remembers the promise he made to his old man to stay safe while he went out on patrol and when he'd fight against shigaraki for the second time. he remembers the promise he made to himself to get his limited edition all might card signed one day. and he remembers the promise he'd made when he said he'd always, always come back to you.

and he remembers the promise he'd made to marry you. the promise that you both would be together and none of the other losers would look at you.

so when he awakens, katsuki doesn't bother to ask why or how.

he simply fights and keeps fighting, so he can win, no matter how fucked up he gets.

and always, always come back to you.

#eeeeeeee this ones a lil long #idk how to feel i like it but idkkkkk #i love my boyfriend tho i know that much #idrk what to do with that ending lol #but i think it came out okay ! #this ended up being rlly long i got in my feels a little LMFAOO #hope yall enjoy tho !! #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo fluff #bakugou imagine #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo fluff #bakugou drabble #kacchan #katsuki x y/n #katsuki x you

[professorcalculusstanaccount]

Bro I love you so much /p as someone who read the whole Tintin's comics multiple times as a child, saw the different movies and related smh sometimes to this wild lil belgian/french dude, seing your stuff makes me so goddamn happy.

I'm not at a super good time in my life rn. But seeing that some people still love those comics to the point of being hella creative about it reminds me how happy I was, at the time, when I was reading those on my mom's old ass MacBook in primary/elementary school, or on the floor of the living room with my dad's comics that were a bit falling apart becausd he had them for so long ; and then I was joyfully doing stories about it by myself too ! I now remember how badly I wanted to be like Tintin growing up ! Wow ! My trans ass just realised that !

I'll probably start to read them again tonight, you smh woke up my actual first hyperfixation of all time I think. Also I spent maybe one full hour sending all your stuff to my gf tonight because I was so happy and my connection sucks ah-

Have a good time in life, honestly you're amazing ! (and sorry for the grammar/syntax/spelling mistakes ! My french ADHD ass can't write anymore in english)

Oh wow. oh man. Thank you so much for sending this to me, I know you sent it some time ago and I'm sorry I took a long time to respond, but this really means a lot to me!

I'm also transmasc and can relate to fictional characters being formative in childhood (though for some reason I never related to Tintin? he was just Too Perfect for me. I definitely related to Haddock as a kid. maybe i had Issues lol).

The way Tintin performs gender is super appealing, I genuinely believe his unique way of presenting gender was a large factor in his global popularity - he was a total badass without alienating people who don't relate to "traditional" Western forms of masculinity! A petite androgynous guy who loved musical theatre and dressed his little dog in ribbons and was never mocked for it. Really makes him stand out from a lot of male action heroes of the time.

I hope you're in a better place now, it's been a rough couple of years recently. Thank you so much for taking the time to write to me, especially in English!

#this ask reached directly into my soul #fanart #animation #2d animation #tintin #adventures of tintin #gif #asks #trans #i have So Many messages in my inbox and i am definitely working to answer as many as i can #you guys have sent me some incredibly thoughtful stuff #lgbt

[dailysimoneashley]

Actress Simone Ashley, 27, grew up in Surrey before moving to Los Angeles alone at 17. She found fame starring in Netflix’s Sex Education, watched by 40 million in its first month. She starred in season two of Bridgerton, which became Netflix’s most watched show in English in its first week. She lives in London ~ Times UK

Teachers called me “the brown girl” at school. I remember if I ever failed a test or misbehaved, the teachers would say, “Which one? Oh, the brown girl.” My first kiss was with a really popular boy in primary school but he denied it to our friends and said, “I would never kiss the brown girl.” I don’t speak about it much because I don’t want it to sound like trauma porn, but it is very real.

I didn’t grow up in a world where people would say, “You’re brown and beautiful.” I have always loved the colour of my skin. But the more I work in this industry, I look back and think no young person should ever feel discriminated against like I was.

We had champagne after we finished the sex scenes in Bridgerton. It felt like we’d done the hardest bit of the whole 11-month shoot. We did all of our intimacy scenes in one week. It’s a lot, gearing up for that every day and making sure you have enough sleep, doing whatever you have to do to make you feel ready. I am confident in myself and my body.

Therapy helps me clear my head. It can be a bit of a circus in this industry. There have been times when it was overwhelming, lonely and all a little bit crazy. The worst thing to do is to feel like the world is against you. Therapy has helped me learn how to communicate better, control my emotions and find useful skills for when things feel overwhelming. It means I can not take life so seriously and just enjoy it. If you can afford therapy, it’s an interesting way to learn more about yourself. Taking responsibility for yourself and who you are as an adult is important.

Corsets push everything down to the bottom of your stomach. That means when you take them off, you’ve got a little bump. I hated wearing those corsets filming Bridgerton. They’re so beautiful, but I hate them – never again! Luckily, we’re allowed to wear bras now instead and that has changed everything for me. I can do a 12-hour day and feel comfortable.

Going to an all-girls’ school made me grow up late. I was late to the part where I was interested in boys, and other parts of being a teenage girl. I was very much still a child when I was 14 or 15.

My mum tried to teach us Hindi and Tamil, but we grew up watching Lindsay Lohan in The Parent Trap. Growing up between England and California, it was hard for me to tap into that. My mum would speak on the phone in Hindi, or talk to us in it, and I understood it. That ability has gone now, but I feel at home when I hear other people speaking it. Because I left home so young, I didn’t have the means or freedom to spend much time with my family in India. My mum also made me play French video games, so I learnt bits of French.

I wasn’t happy in England as a teenager. All of us have had a bit of a rough time at school. But I felt happy in California, where I spent a lot of time as a kid.

I want to give more people tattoos. When I was bored in Los Angeles in lockdown, I did lots of stuff like tie-dying and learning a language. Then I realised how easy it was to get a rotary tattoo pen, found a nice design and gave myself a tattoo. On some sets that I work on, people are like, “Cool, when we wrap, give me a tattoo.”

My white male counterparts have had it very differently from me. They have more of a voice. I have had to work harder to have that kind of equality. I have learnt to have my own power. I might be different, but if I respect myself and use my voice, eventually the people around me will give me that same treatment.

Empowering a minority shouldn’t be taboo. Especially in the UK, we love Indian food, we watch so many movies inspired by Bollywood music. The people from that community deserve to be empowered and loved. It shouldn’t be a taboo thing to say, you’re brown and amazing.

Simone Ashley stars in a short film for Johnnie Walker’s Bold Steps campaign with Diet Paratha

#simone ashley #dailywoc #dailywomen #actresscentral #interviews #johnnie walker x diet paratha

[bisexualseraphim]

15 questions

Tagged by the lovely @butmakeitgayblog cheers love ☺️

Were you named after anyone?

Nope! My mum just liked the meaning of my birth name and had an interest in name meanings. All my new names (yes I have several) have just been because I thought they sounded cool.

Do you have kids?

HA! No. And definitely never will. I’d be the worst dad 🥴

When was the last time you cried?

Yesterday lol, I started my first ever proper job and was shitting myself with anxiety. It went well though!

What sports have you played/do you play?

I was a dodgeball champion in primary school before I got chronically ill! Played a bit of football too (real football not that poundshop rugby Americans play 😒) and I do miss it a little but not much to be done about it I suppose. I had fun while it lasted!

Do you use sarcasm?

Nah I’ve been around over 2 decades and have never been sarcastic in my life

First thing you notice about people?

This sounds faggy as fuck but their smile 😅 Where I live people are so miserable that when someone has a lovely smile it’s so noticeable to me haha

Scary movies or happy endings?

Ooh cheeky question! I looove horror movies and they’ve been a huge special interest of mine since I was probably too young to be watching them 🤭 BUT I do love a happy ending IF it feels earned. So I guess it depends! But scary movies overall I think.

What are your hobbies?

Reading, writing, playing instruments, video games, watching movies, just chatting with friends.

What is your eye colour?

Fuck knows genuinely, I had a friend whom after years of knowing me one day suddenly screamed OH MY GOD YOUR EYES ARE BLUE WHAT THE FUCK on a sunny day so. Call me Alycia Debnam Carey cos my eye colour changes with the weather apparently 🧿🧿

Any talents?

Ummm I mean I guess I technically class as a multi-instrumentalist but I don’t think I’m that great at any of them 😅 The one thing I know for certain I’m good at is writing but I hardly bloody do it 🥴

Where were you born?

I have dual citizenship because I was born outside the EU and that’s all I’ll say 😌

Do you have any pets?

I did have a lovely sweet kitty whom I had since I was little and she was a kitten, meaning we literally grew up together, but she sadly passed away in January and it’s hit me harder than anything else in my life 😞 I think I’m finally ready to accept another baby into my life though so we’ll see if that works out!

How tall are you?

Just under 5’7 when the weight of being a trans disabled queer man in the UK isn’t compressing my spine

Favourite subject in school?

Definitely Film Studies and Media Studies! I also loved French (still do!) and Religious Studies was the highlight of my day because my teacher was a fuckin legend. Miss that fella every day honestly

Dream job?

I want to be a published author that has a semi-decent fanbase. I don’t need to be on Neil Gaiman levels of fame, I just want more than like 20 people to read and enjoy my stories 😊

I’ll go ahead and tag @lexa-griffins @dysphoria-things @northern-punk-lad @sadiewayne @reallygroovyninja @dreamsaremywords and anyone else who’d like to do it! Just make sure you tag me 😘

#personal #tag game #ask #questions #about me

[gelarshiesprofruitboarder]

haedcanoms ..... fro anyome yuo can thimkdj of 🙏🙏🙏🙏💥💯💯

this is gonna be. a big block of text. uve enabled me and now im gonna talk for forever. uh. :3333 (also a shit ton of my hcs are just me projecring shjt so.)

okayyyy uh. dave went to private school for like. 4 years. he didnt follow any rules and wouldve definitly gotten expelled ljke 2 weeks in but bro strider is. so fucking rich so he just payed to keep him kn. he still had to wear those stupid ass uniforms tho and now he absolutely hates wearing polo shirts. fuckinf despises them.

sollux??? massive h*r fan he makes a shit ton of uber obscure references that like no one gets but him and he makes liek anyone hes ever had a positive interaction with watch it. aradia also likes it bc he made it like impossible not to if youre close enough to him. he kinda got terezi in2 it and she really likes trogdor.ike REALLY likes trogdor.

speaking of aradia and sollux aradias like a massive goth music fan and they listen to that stuff together like all the time. he listens to more,,, mainstream ig stuff regularly but then aradia makes him listen to her entire collection whenever theyre together

Jane can speak french,,, shes not french or anything in thr SLIGHTEST but she learned it bc like. idk desserts are french sometimes. and she just randomly starts speaking french to be annoying n fuck with ppl. roxys learned a little bit from her so sometimes she does too but. rarely.

terezi sollux and feferi friendship 🙏🙏 thsyre so. important to me. i dont remember how much they imteract all together in canom ik jts at least once but... theyre literally a version of the primary colors please thsyrs so friedn group that youd think would hate eachother but they surprisingly dont

jane crochets also alongside baking. she makes people shit like. all the time and probably spends way too much on yarn. she does it while watching all those dumb sitcoms??? whatever theyte called (like parks and rec and arrwsted development and the good place. that stuff). she also sometimes hamgs out with rose and they crochet/knit together

dirk and roxy make like the most shitpost stupid meme references (more often roxy) and like no one else gets them or rreally finds them funny bc theyre all from like. 2009. or ehatever while roxy n dirk are from. the future (i forgot when and no im not lokking jt up) roxy especially has like. dumb tumblr humor and will say the weirdest shit and no one will get it except dirk

feferi sends sollux videos like "t)(is reely reminds me of you ♥️" and then its a 5 minute jerma laighing at car crashes compilation or some shit.

dave makes that type of music that either sounds like actual shit or really good depending on the person. like uber expirimental fucked up random sfx dumbest lyrics ever etc etc (idk how to describe it but like. if uve listened to like.... queef jerkey thats what im imagining)

if were imagining that quest for the missing spoon exists in homestuck (since the comics do, plus theres other stuff like movies and plushes) dirk definityly had the pepsi blue chilis centerfold cutout on his wall. i also think him and maybe roxy??? quote that shit like not even on purpose CONSTANTLY since it was such a big franchise. also i think itd be funny if people talked ab it like how they talk ab harry potter and shit like "oh my god im SUCH a geromy."

aradia plays cello. like this absolutely fucking massive one too thats like deep reddish wood and its heavy as hell and it shouldnt be feesibly possible for her to carry it around but she can skmehos??? and shes really fucking good too. she likes 2 play for fer friends n partners

feferi adores tmbg esp their earlier stuff but she likes it all. shes got a playlist of every single one of their songs she could get ahold of and badically only listesns to that one playlist. she also knows a shit ton about the band itself and knows fun facts about like every song and will NOT hesitate to infodump whenever something slightly related comes up in conversation.

sollux LOVES classic tetris hes extremely fucking good at it and knows how to do all the weird shit w/ the controller like hypertapping and rolling and honestly probably made up something new. he basically only plays past killscreen (he found an nes somehow and hacked jt to let him start anywhere) and is the type of guy to be like "Oh yeah thii2 2hiit2 ea2y here II'll giive you a begiinner level two." and then. start you at level 29.

i have more i think but i cant remember any besides like "__ is a fan of "__ !!!!!" bc i just live projecting my interests onto characters. again sorry for so many words um. 💔

#you can tell who i spend thd most time thinking about bc i actually have headcanons for them. oops #sorry if theres like an incomprehensible amount of typos i dropped my phone on the curb and half my screen is cracked so i physically cant #tell if like. a quarter of my screen has any typos. um #i say as if i care much ab typos. anyways #homestuck #headcanons #dave strider #sollux captor #aradia megido #terezi pyrope #jane crocker #roxy lalonde #feferi peixes #rose lalonde #dirk strider

[cobblestonevoid]

I’ll preface this by saying that I hope and pray that this post reaches its extremely niche target audience (people that like Oscar Wilde, Good Omens, and paranormal/dark history Quite A Bit), as it’ll not be nearly as fun to people that don’t enjoy all three. That said,

I was going through the Wikipedia page for Eccles Cakes, because my brain had gotten stuck on the line and I’d been repeating “Eccles Cake?” to myself all day. Anyways, the point is, I’d gotten to the part about similar cakes they periodically get mixed up with when I spotted THIS:

This, in and of itself, is unremarkable. However, me being an Oscar Wilde fan first and reasonable second, I noticed a striking resemblance to the name for the ailing fictional character invented by Algernon Moncrieff in The Importance of Being Earnest (who conveniently suffers bouts of exceptionally bad health whenever Algy’s relations invite him to something dull.)

While this may seem like a stretch to the untrained eye, it is a well documented historical fact that Jack Worthing, the play’s protagonist, is named for the seaside town in the south of England where Oscar Wilde wrote the play. As such, it is not an unnatural conclusion that he would do something similar with Bunbury’s name.

So, naturally, I went to the Wikipedia page for the Importance of Being Earnest. While I did not find anything in the page’s primary text, I did find this in the notes:

According to a Wikipedia note, I’d been corroborated by noted spiritualist and occult researcher Aleister Crowley (who, as an aside, Neil Gaiman has confirmed on tumblr that Our Crowley is named after, along with the town of Crawley). It is well documented that Aleister (as this is tumblr, and referring to him by his surname would inevitably lead to confusion) knew Wilde, which would hypothetically give him authority on the matter. Now, as much as I’d love to say that I’m the type of person to see that their theory has been corroborated and be happy and done with it, the American school system has done nothing if not engender an inherent distrust of Wikipedia in me. As such, I did some digging around the internet, and what I wound up finding was that every single site making this claim traced its evidence back to this book:

The book is $50. The author, Timothy D’Arch Smith, has a bio describing him as a “bibliographer, antiquarian bookseller (author’s note: oh my god he’s an antiquarian bookseller), and author, whose wit and scholarly predilections – Montague Summers (see Bibliographies), Aleister Crowley, rock 'n' roll, and cricket (see Games and Sports) – inform his contribution to the genre.” My question is,

Regardless, I think it’s really fun how all of my silly little interests intersected here and I needed to yell about it

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #victorian history #aleister crowley #spiritualism #paranormal history #dark history #oscar wilde #the importance of being earnest #bunbury #bunburying #bunburyism #algernon moncrieff #algy moncrieff #az fell and co #tagging this as the bookshop to make sure this reaches the literature girlies #literary history #classic literature #victorian literature #Oscar Wilde plays #eccles cakes

[balladofthewhitehorse]

14, 19, 28, and 46 for whomever you'd like!

Thank you for your ask! I appreciate it, I’ll answer these with England (and others, depending on my muse which is- fickle. Love how my brain can spend an hour and a half researching a singular event in Irish history, but not even lift a neuron to glance at my still unfinished fics).

Were they involved at school? Sports? Clubs? Debate? Were they unconnected?

This is a kind of hard one to answer given the lack of a curriculum or even any formal schooling outside of the clergy in the Anglo-Saxon era (the era I consider England to be spawned into like some shrub come to life); He would’ve mostly learned hands on from his father and his brother, learning how to defend himself and speak latin (Wessex would’ve most likely taught how to write in runic, with England learning how to write latin later on during Alfred the Great’s reign, who’s known for promoting education during the Saxon times and proposing for primary education to be conducted in English - making it more accessible to the those that weren’t just clergy or nobility, most likely).

The same would go for Scotland and Wales (in their own respective languages too, with Wales obviously learning Cymraeg while Scotland learned Gaelic and later on Scots as the language developed); All three of them are more familiar with learning skills as they go, far better with their hands than anything else. England even had a short while with Normandy learning French (and of all things, embroidery, mostly from sitting with France who acted as a bit of an impromptu babysitter whenever Normandy was away or too busy to focus on this new territory he’d gained).

The idea of sitting at a desk, listening to the teacher tell you things is a bit of a Victorian thing.

That. Is exactly what Northern Ireland is very familiar with: The poor mite was often a bit of an odd-one-out, initially homeschooled until Ireland decided it might be better for him to interact with people…more his age (or at least looking more his age). He did find it hard to connect, it is not uncommon for England, Scotland and Wales to forget that Northern Ireland at his core, no matter how youthful, that he is a nation. Northern Ireland had a bit of a tendency to flare up or argue with others, known to the teachers as a bit of a trouble-maker - which, of course: Scotland, Wales, England and Ireland all simultaneously gave one another the side-eye, wondering just where that came from.

The reality of it is that Northern Ireland is a deeply empathetic individual - and he’s very aware of all the little things that stop him from being allowed to simply exist. He takes part in the football club (but of course,) and the rugby club - as well as Irish hurling, mostly because it’s something he and Ireland can do together (like it or lump it, Ireland is probably the closest to understanding N. Ireland than anyone else here). Northern Ireland is prone to thinking his problems are very, very small compared to the others - it is hard to get a word in edgewise when they won’t stop talking about this or that battle (England, in particular, seems to have zero remorse about casually remarking on his father’s death occuring right in front of him).

But, nations have a way of feeling the impact of things on their land; Physical, Mental…it’s all the same to them, and Northern Ireland is a student throughout all of this…sucks, innit?

What were your character’s deepest disillusions? In life? What are they now?

England? England? England hasn’t even begun to crawl entirely from his disillusions.

The first one is the fact Wales doesn’t consider him a brother anymore. It was quite the shock when he realized, and initially England was very defensive; He was quick to push the blame onto her and spew vitriol. In recent years, it’s…better between them, but England always feels subtly disappointed that they’re not as close as they used to be - and well, all signs point to England as the main reason why, which…

Is the second disillusion. England is not a pleasant person to know; His actions have reasons, they’re guided by (twisted) morality and it’s not surprising that he’s like this. Yet, it must be said that England does not recognise himself as the villain, does not immediately connect the dots that all the things that have happened between then and now with Scotland and Wales, are entirely because of him. Spite, bitterness, loss…certainly, Scotland and Wales had their moments (Wales did ambush England in the midst of a forest and nearly decapitate him, but to be fair, England was invading her), but England was slow on the uptake to say the least and extremely arrogant, with…quite frankly alarming conceptions of what family and protection were - Normandy wasn’t exactly the grandest role model, but it’s not enough to wash England of the blood. He realizes this now, of course, and it’s a great shame - but perhaps the next disillusion is most likely…

The idea that he can never get better. It seems foreign to him that he could get better; He seems almost content to stew and it’s…tiring, frustrating trying to change when you know things are never going to go back to before. England struggles with the concept, with the satisfaction of retribution denied; Scotland and Wales are not going to retaliate, they are not going to seek revenge on him - nor is anyone else, and this deeply unsettles England who is all too familiar with the old adage of an eye for an eye, and a knife for the ribs.

As for the disillusions of the past, I will quickly two below:

The idea that Normandy cared for him as more than a vassal: England took a long time to come to terms with the fact his brotherhood was less than ideal and it was unfair of Normandy to have just left him with France, though at this point England was already winding up to fight with her, vicious and dog-toothed.

The idea that France was little more than a villain; For a long time, he tucked away any pleasant memories that had been shared between them - England had a tendency to think in shades of black and white back then, viewing France as an oppressor in its entirety. To him, she seemed to be a grown-up - but now, England views such a time as the feuding between two children; One of which was only a little older than the other.

Who is your character’s mate? How do they relate to him or her? How did they make their choice?

Hmm, I’ll answer this one for Scotland because I think it’s a tad easier with Scotland in comparison to Wales and England; He’s quite introverted for the most part, preferring peace and quiet in comparison to more social pursuits, but Scotland does have one close friend: Ireland. Obvious answer, but it just makes so much sense. While certainly they’ve had their ups and downs, with Scotland not always seeing eye to eye with Ireland (they are two individuals after-all, and there are plenty of situations where Scotland did not always do right by her - do please remember Scotland’s role in the Ulster Plantations/British Empire), but fundamentally they have each others back these days.

Scotland and Ireland have almost the same neuroses; Scotland doesn’t like insects while Ireland feels queasy about the prospect of mould, and so they tend to be very clean about their spaces around them. They’re also quite similar in humour, being very dry and quick-witted, with Ireland often affectionately teasing Scotland (‘’William Wallace wasn’t a drag queen-’’ ‘’He’s wearing a skirt and has a full face of foundation, Scotland’’ - Derry Girls, 2022). It’s not uncommon for some people to assume they’re dating, but Scotland is an AroAce icon and Ireland is just not into Scotland in that way.

I am not…really sure what the question means by ‘how did they make their choice’ mostly because it was more of a natural conclusion to them. Something that just happened naturally over time, through periods of ups and downs, finally settling into something comfortable. A good friendship, one that got them through periods of time, and perhaps the one that makes them feel the most close to human.

Is your character tall? Short? What about size? Weight? Posture? How do they feel about their physical body?

This is going to make the England-Stan Anon (pspspsps) very annoyed, but England is fat, always was to varying degrees. He did have an awkward growth spurt from chubby little rosy-cheeked infant to some sort of lanky teenager, but filled out quickly; Lanky teenagers have no place on a battlefield and England had to get used to wearing suits of armour…especially given his weapon of a choice was a fucking war-hammer, is anyone surprised to find him quite thick-set? As he grew up, he rounded out - and these days, England is more a little soft than solid due to a lifetime now mostly sedentary - and in his opinion, much more happy. Gone are aching muscles and hunger pangs, gone was the constant need to be on-guard, and now he can just enjoy the sweet treats he desires.

(Sweets back then were far, far less affordable.)

England is about 5’’9, just shy of beating Wales’ height; And yet, he still seems to tower over others, in part due to how he carries himself - constantly a brooding expression on his face, thick (one scarred and the other a prosthetic) arms crossed over his chest, big round belly only making him seem that much more formidable. Yet, one can recognise that England feels more at ease - He doesn’t walk so fast anymore, far less in a hurry, and he seems to genuinely for the first time take care of his appearance; England’s hair was a bird’s nest of greasy hair, England going in spirals and just simply hacking it off, too frustrated to do anything with it and just…generally feeling terrible about how he looked. He rarely thought about what he wore, mostly utilizing whatever fit the standards of the time - and now those expectations, those weighty standards are gone and England is much more satisfied now.

For a start, he’s not hiding his scars so much - he used to be ashamed of his missing arm, but these days, England recognises it as another part of himself; He’s more accepting of his disability and much more attentive about how he dresses and whether or not it makes him happy. Good lord, England absolutely went mad for the punk scene when it swept through England, I’ll tell you that much. He still has the studded leather jacket in his closet and wears it on occasion - and his hair is longer now, more brushed and genuinely healthier.

So in short, England’s in a much better place about his physical body.

#hws england #hws scotland #hws wales #hws france #hws ireland #hws northern ireland #aph england #aph scotland #aph wales #aph france #aph ireland #aph northern ireland

[chaotic-dumbass-witch]

hey besties. just remembered its canada day

so this year, let’s not forget that quebec is putting law 96 into effect. this will make access to post secondary schooling in english much more difficult and force people to learn french, which is a lot more complicated than english is. let’s remember that this not only affects those who have english as a primary language, but also those who have other maternal languages: this will massively affect immigrants, poc, indigenous peoples, and other at risk communities. protecting languages is important, but french is neither endangered nor disappearing, while indigenous languages aren’t the least bit protected - or even acknowledged - as languages in this country. not only will this make studying in english a lot more difficult, but it may also prohibit doctors from speaking to patients in english, it will add a mandatory “french exit exam” on top of the already present “english exit exam” for every college level student, it will put a lot of teachers out of a job, and force students to take a minimal number of courses in french every single semester. up until this law, you need to pass 2 french classes during college/cegep. as someone whose second language is french, and whose third language is english, i am very aware that french tends to be harder, and this will affect a lot of people.

here's resources to learn about this law: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20

let’s not forget how canada’s hidden its horrible history in terms of missing and murdered indigenous women and girls along the years. let’s not forget about the hiding of all the indigenous kids who never got to go home from residential schools, and all the parents who never got to see their kids again. let’s not forget that a large percentage of reservations don’t have potable water and are under advisories. let’s not forget how canada fucked over the Inuit some decades ago. let’s also not forget that food is extremely expensive in remote areas and around reserves, and because of this, many indigenous communities struggle with food insecurity. let’s also keep in mind that housing for indigenous peoples is often very inadequate, with rodent and insect infestations, mold problems, etc. let’s not forget how indigenous peoples have disproportionately high rates of mental health issues such as anxiety, depression, PTSD, general suicidality, as well as the fact that those communities face substance abuse issues.

here's resources to learn about this: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20

let’s not forget that indigenous peoples and poc are also more likely to be discriminated against in the medical community. there have been many cases of indigenous people going to the hospital and being insulted, mocked, etc. by medical personnel. there have been many cases of medical personnel disregarding their indigenous patients concerns and directly causing said patients death or harm because of the doctors disregard for their health. many indigenous people have actually said that they are less likely to seek medical help for fear of being discriminated against or even forcibly sterilized without consent.

here's a few more resources: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20

let’s also remember that racism, classism, ableism, etc. is extremely real in canadian society. this is especially true when it comes to cops. let’s remember that canadian society is heavily dependent on capitalism. let’s remember that canada is an extremely flawed and fucked up country, it’s just a little better at hiding things than other places may be.

let’s remember that the fact that the us gov is going back on roe v wade makes it more likely that, in the case of a conservative government being elected in canada, the government here may also take away abortion rights, which are also extremely necessary for at risk communities and especially poc.

i love poutine as much as the next guy, but this canada day, let’s not forget all the people that canada fucked over and will keep fucking over in the future. this canada day, if you can, give money or offer help to an indigenous person, an immigrant, a poc.

educate yourself through online textbook pdfs, lectures by indigenous people, learn about indigenous communities, about the names of different tribes, about the housing issues both on reserve and off, the complications they face in the medical field, about the likelihood of health issues, read about the effects of substance abuse on their communities, learn about how their right to bodily autonomy has been fucked over time and time again. learn about whose land you live on, because unless you're indigenous, it isn't your land. learn everything you can and do what you can about it. educate others. it shouldnt only be up to indigenous influencers to educate you, but you should follow indigenous people on instagram, twitter, tumblr, tiktok, etc. if you have access to academic sources, read them. go to the local library. open up the search bar of your schools online database and look through it. talk to indigenous people.

hold this country responsible for its actions and decisions.

#canada day #fuck canada day

[honeybeecomebuzzingme]

Grr why am I worried about him???

All my online friends are saying I need to reaffirm my boundaries and not let myself fall into bad habits. But damn there's this annoying dysphoria when I think about this whole process and I wish I could have the energy to turn it around and be mad.

But I'm not angry. I'm concerned because he's my friend and I want him to be ok.

I don't understand why I need to be angry and turn off that worry I have for someone who I will always consider my best friend.

My brain can't compute these emotions.

It's easier if I compartmentalize and make a list as follows:

1- I appreciate any friends I have who have taken me to hospital or helped me in a time of need deserve equal in return.

2- I understand that my friends all have mental health issues and such things I cannot do anything other than listen and give moral support for them to seek help.

3- I see now that it is not my responsibility to keep bugging my friends to seek help for themselves. They need to do that for themselves when they are ready.

I'm not sure what else to say.

I'll leave with the promise that I am working on myself. I'm learning to be me.

I'm learning to accept myself.

I am an amazing person.

I can sorta play the guitar, some harmonica from primary school, and I'm learning the violin. (I also want to learn to play bass guitar and eventually the harp).

I can speak German, some Dutch, and French, Gaelic from living in Scotland, a tiny bit of Welsh from when I lived in Wales, and I picked up a little bit of Japanese from anime. Also, I have basic knowledge of asl and bsl from classes, I was working on how to write in kanji/hiragana and in Arabic in the past.

I've studied many things over the past ten years. I'm a highly accomplished student despite my shortcomings and absences.

I really enjoy photography and painting.

I can design video games, phone apps, and flash animations. I can make jewelry from precious metals. I can make clothing from scratch, and I understand how the fashion industry operates, how much of what we wear in our every day life has been informed by history and culture.

I can also wire a plug, fix a leaky sink, and install internet in businesses and homes.

I am also experienced and trained in both the care of children and vulnerable adults.

I have first aid training and I am an eagerly experienced archery instructor. I love it!

And I've studied cyber security of course!

Also I know how Trump expects his drink served from my training in bartending and hospitality - our field trips were amazing - I wanted to be a bartender from that course but I prefer cooking.

I've also worked in kitchens in 3/4 parts of the UK. I just need to go to N. Ireland now.

I've had jobs like retail, call centres, but I enjoy cleaning because it's therapeutic!

And most importantly I am a writer! 💯🔥

I have self published the first trilogy of my 12 part book series set in Scotland. I've also self published the first book of my second trilogy. And it all started with a poetry book I also self published! 💪💜

I wrote mostly by myself at first but over time I have built up my supporters and I have a pretty awesome fanbase! ☺️❣️🥰

My profits are small but I love writing!

I love all my friends and family so much!

I love al my Nakama!

#deep thoughts #ramblings #sleep deprivation #lovestruck #self deprecating humor #depression and anxiety #self healing #self love #love

[stonesynumber5]

thanks for the tag @mcity-xe & @faye01mcfc 💙💙

Tea, Coffee or Soda?

coke 100%. never drink tea or coffee

Dogs or Cats?

dogs have my heart. but i like all animals so i’m not one of those dog lovers that hates cats

Can you play any instrument?

i used to play the flute for a little bit around 9/10, which isn’t cool at all but basically this music teacher came to our primary school and showed us all the instruments he could teach us to play and my lazy ass was like “that one seems the easiest”. when i got into my pre teens i saved up and brought myself a guitar and teach yourself kit but i failed miserably at that.

update: still very much wish i could play guitar (and piano). maybe i’ll get round to it one day

What’s your zodiac sign?

cancer 🦀

First song lyrics that pops to your mind?

this was hard……and all at once, you were the one, that i’d been waiting for, king of my heart, body and soul

Do you have any tattoos?

yes and i need way more

Favourite place you travelled?

New York Citaaaayyyyyy, the city that never sleeps 🖤

What’s the last movie you watched?

Scream 🔪🩸

Do you have any hobbies?

i like to be creative so i like to make things. i’ve gotten into building lego sets, diamond paintings…

i don’t know really know what classes as a hobby and what doesn’t?

What languages can you speak?

just English. i learnt French and German in school but def am not fluent. I started learning Portuguese at the end of last year/start of this year but fucked up my streak and got out of the habit of learning everyday. I was enjoying being able to understand some things so i should start it back up again

You can hang out with a fictional character for one hour, who do you choose?

probably Iron Man? he seems fun and i would get to try out the suit

Compliment yourself!

oh god………i guess i’m into a lot of different things in different aspects of my life, that don’t make sense or go together when you view it from an outside perspective, and i’m glad i don’t try and fit myself into a box and try and make sense to people? i allow myself to be all over the place and be into different shit? i think some people don’t allow them self to be like that. especially our generation where we’re obsessed with perfection and “aesthetics”

i tag @stonesyy @lc-fics @johnstonessss @johnstonesfc , probably already been tagged but whatever

[volucerrubidus]

Earth-11′s very own Red Robin joins the blog!

Quick Facts:

She was the third Robin for Batwoman, but eventually “graduated” and took on the role of Red Robin, in order to avoid confusion with the new Robin, Talia Kane

Despite this, there isn’t much resentment between the daughters of the Bat, at least not the way there was between their Earth-0 counterparts 

In fact, Thea tends to get along fairly well with her family (though this can be changed if other Earth-11 rp’ers would like something different)

However, where Tim Drake started Young Justice, and boasted more than a few civilian friends, Thea did not create a team of her own, nor did she have many friends outside of her allies in the hero community

She’d like to get to know more of her fellow heroes, especially the ones in her generation/age, but she tends to work in Gotham exclusively, and so rarely sees them

She still favors the bo staff, and her primary patrol area of Gotham is near to Gotham Heights, where she (and Tim) grew up

She leans extremely heavily into her hero work and neglects her life as Thea Drake even moreso than Tim does

She is still plenty witty/sassy, however, and her personality matches fairly closely with Tim’s

She still prefers energy drinks to coffee, her favorite color is still green, and she still listens to the same music as Tim (Depeche Mode and Enya being high up on the list, though Thea also likes Melissa Etheridge and The Cranberries more than Tim does)

(She will be pleased to know that they have the same bands on Earth-11 as they do on Earth-0, in fact)

(She will, conversely, however, be very upset when it turns out Earth-0 has songs that Earth-11 does not, and vice versa)

While Tim exclusively wears contacts, sometimes Thea favors glasses, though it entirely depends on whether or not she felt like putting in contacts that day

She is still a high school dropout

She did still train with Earth-11′s Lady Shiva equivalent

Her parental arc remains largely the same, though where Janet died first for Tim, Jack died first for Thea, and she and her mother had to navigate living without him instead

Because I can’t resist the chance to add more queerness into my stories, Janet did date Dana Winters before she was killed by Earth-11′s Capt. Boomerang

Unlike Tim, Thea has a few small tattoos, which she only got on places where they wouldn’t be visible as identifiers

In that vein, she also has piercings all up her right ear

Thea is still trans and bisexual, like my canon Tim

Thea trains often, but one of her favorite ways to train is by swimming, where Tim’s is form drills; of course, she’ll do those same form drills, but she likes to mix it up a bit more than Tim does

While Tim speaks/reads Latin, French, some Arabic, a little German, Mandarin, and ASL, Thea speaks/reads ASL, Latin, Russian, Japanese, full German, and full Arabic

Tim isn’t a half-bad cook, but Thea is a better cook than he is; their combined favorite meal, though, is Dana’s Italian Wedding Soup, which she taught them both how to make

#[okay i gotta stop adding more facts lsjdfkls this is getting long and some of these are no longer 'quick' facts lmao] #[if anyone ever wants more hcs for both tim and thea tho.... lemme know 👀] #[also the red r.obin name might be more temporary for thea than for tim] #[she might end up with a totally new name lsjdfks] #[we'll see] #{earth-11 tag pending} #{headcanons}

[survey--s]

501.

What does the shirt you are wearing look like?   It’s just a plain pale grey knitted jumper. What was the last thing that stressed you out or upset you?   I was really worried about walking two dogs together last Wednesday as the first time I did it, they didn’t get along - but they were perfect and there were no issues lol.

How do you stay positive with all that life throws at you?   Medication and therapy when I was younger, and now I use the techniques I learnt in therapy to help me manage the worst of it. What is the highest level of physical pain you have ever been in? rate 1-10  I can never answer questions like this - for me, expected pain (like for piercings and tattoos) is much more tolerable than unexpected pain, even if the unexpected pain is much more manageable lol. ...same question, but with emotional pain?   I honestly couldn’t tell you. What is your most prized possession?   My car. Which youtuber do you feel like you could be friends with easily?   I don’t watch any YouTubers. Do you like your natural hair color?   More now that I’m older - when I was younger I always wanted to be blonde. Do you think you will dye your hair when you start going gray?   Yes, most likely, but both sides of my family don’t seem to go grey until their late forties, so I’m hoping I don’t need to worry about it for a while yet.   Are you pale right now, or do you have a tan?   I’ve actually got a bit of a tan as the weather was surprisingly sunny this week. Do you think you look best with a tan?   Yes. I feel like I look healthier and happier. What is your favorite app on your phone?   Instagram or Reddit. How old were you when you got your first smartphone?   They weren’t really a thing until I was in my late teens - I think I was probably seventeen or so when I got one.  Do you ever meditate on Scripture?   No. Are you living a life you want to escape from? or do you love your life?   For the most part, I love my life. There are bits I would change if I could, but unless I win the lottery, that’s not gonna happen. When was the last time you felt that life was good?   Yesterday when I was out walking Oakley - the weather was gorgeous and he was just being perfectly behaved and having a great time lol. Do you have one big mistake that you've made that you want to fix?   No. Do you wish people would forgive you for your past so you could move on? I don’t need anyone to forgive me for anything. Do you wear green on St. Patrick's day?   No. St. Patrick’s Day isn’t a “thing” here at all. Are you Irish at all?   No. Do you pray to God every day?   No. I’m not even a little bit religious. What are three things you are currently looking forward to doing soon?   Having a full day off tomorrow, my last riding lesson Monday (bittersweet but it will save me a fortune, lol) and...Bank Holiday in a week or so. Do you ever dance in the rain?   I have done in the past. Have you ever sat on a rooftop?   Yeah, but only on like, a proper rooftop terrace. Who is that last good musician or band you discovered?   Morgan Wallen. Do you like to watch talent shows like America's Got Talent and X Factor? Nope, they’ve never appealed to me. Have you ever tried avocado toast?   I love it but it doesn’t seem to be that popular anymore - I guess because avocados are ridiculousdly expensive now lol. Are you more talented musically or artistically or neither?   Neither lol. Are you better at English or math?   English.  What were your best subjects in school?   French, English and History. What was your favorite subject in school?   History.   Have you ever visited a teacher at their home?   Yeah, our primary school was really small and our head-teacher used to have an annual BBQ at her house. We even slept over once lol. I can’t imagine that ever being allowed now. I remember she had terrapins and we all though they were really cool. How many windows are in your bedroom?   One. Who was your first roommate?   A girl named Kirsty. Who was your first best friend (besides a sibling)?   Lucy. Do you have a sibling who looks like you?   I don’t have any siblings. I look a LOT like my dad’s half-sister, though. Name three women you know who have lost a child.   Talk about an insensitive question, lol. Whose was the last funeral you attended or watched?   I’ve never attended or watched a funeral. What types of cancer are in your family, if any?   Prostate and bowel cancer. Do you have big dreams for your future?   Not really. I’m content living a pretty small life. Do you feel alone?   No. What is this month's calendar picture?   I don’t have a physical calendar, I just use my phone. What is the theme of your wall calendar for this year?   -- Have you ever seen a double rainbow?   Sure, loads of times.

#survey #surveys

[dxppercxdxver]

stopsign junction 🥀

time to synopsize this Wack Ass Dream i had and am now trying to turn into a story

picture mid 70s small town americana. well, small-ish, all the main characters attend this weird private school and shit. ANYWAY. late autumn air, golden glows, lots of brick and sweater vests, you get the drill

our protagonist is a boy named theo. he's super smart, got into this private school based on test scores rather than money, and has a sort of. bootleg eddie munson vibe going on. i know in my heart he would be a he/they in modern times. long hair, bassist, nail polish when he can get away with it, bit of the town freak (affectionate)

his best friend and other primary protagonist is a boy named ben. super rich family, has a bit of a reputation for being an asshole, but mostly he's just. very smart and bad at social cues. he may also be a bit hoh but honestly i can't decide with him yet. he's got a very. detached and ethereal thing going on? he always looks like he's thinking about something more important than you (he's not, he just looks like it). you read the raven cycle? gansey vibes

and they're best friends!! they live next door and have little secret codes they share with each other and know all the hidey holes and passages in each other's houses and can sneak between their yards and into their bedrooms easier than breathing. also, theo is Catastrophically in love with ben. oops

crux of the plot is that ben discovers something about their little town. any four way stopsign junction can be used to make minor wishes. they use it mostly for goofs at first? changing all the text in the neighborhood to french, fudging their class attendance records, etc. but then they realize something Weird is going on. someone else is using this stopsign trick for Nefarious Purposes

and now they have a mystery to solve that ties into the school and their families and really the town's history as a whole

i literally cannot synopsize all of it without taking Eight Years but the primary crux of the story is that ben Does realize his feelings for theo. and it's great. but then the antagonist makes a wish and erases their entire history together. and so theo must partner up with ben's girlfriend and the other local weirdo to undo it and solve the mystery before the town's temporal fabric unwinds for good

it was so vivid. i miss ben sometimes

#there's Way More to it but i don't want to be here all night shjshjs #my writing #radio free junebug #venomroses #ask game

[forestnumen]

Could you please answer Questions: 1, 8, 11, 12, 13, 14, 21, 22, 26, 31, 33, 34, 36, 41, 42, 44, & 48.

Thanks. 😊

1. Who is/are your comfort character(s)?

Ok don't laugh but for a very long time it was discord from my little pony...nowadays it's Klaus from the umbrella academy, Sydney from I am not okay with this (I can't believe they canceled season 2) and catra from the new She-ra. Probably a few more but those are at the top of my head.

8. How many waterbottles are in your room right now?

A normal waterbottle and one for tea.

11. Favorite extracurricular activity?

I never was one who did a lot of those. I was forced to go to ballet classes which I hated and once I dropped out I didn't get into anything new. Mostly just spend my time drawing at home. I loved the writing class we had in primary school though. I also did archery for a bit.

12. What kind of day is it?

Sunny autumn day with a few dusty clouds hanging in the distance. It's 20 degrees Celsius for some reason. Monday 10 am on a public holiday, so everything is really quiet.

13. When was the last time you ate?

About an hour ago... Dark dry bread with hummus for breakfast.

14. Do you love the smell of earth after it rains?

What kind of person doesn't like that smell? It's the best after a long summer day or on a cool autumn morning.

21. Something you've kept since childhood?

The pig plushy my mom got me when I was a baby. A really old book of Grimms fairytales, my dad got it as a kid and everything is written in old German letters. There are also 2 Russian dolls that I got from my great uncle. They are part of my favorite childhood memory of my cousin and I visiting him in his atelier. He put together a game for us and in the end we found a buried treasure.... We each got a fossil root (I lost mine and I will be angry about this for the rest of my life) and two Russian dolls. My cousin got the bigger two in blue and I got the smaller ones in red. He still has them aswell.

22. What type of person are you?

I honestly have no idea how to answer this. Most people describe me as quiet but tough. I'm definitely more on the shy and introverted side. I'm often a bit to harsh on myself as I'm quite perfectionistic and have a lot of expectations for myself which lead to me being quite indecisive and procrastinating a lot. I'm someone who's still trying to figure out where my place in this world is, who I am and what I want. I'm not one who judges people easily, I keep an open mind and rather see their perspective. At the same time I'm a terrible communicator, I struggle with intimacy a lot of the time, not great at letting people know what I think or feel. Terrible hugger, you could hug a cactus instead of me and it wouldn't make much of a difference. I know some people like my stoic way of handling things but I do feel like I should be more emotional a lot of the time. Often it seems to me like I'm a cat amongst overly excited golden retrievers, if that makes sense.

26. A scenario that you've replayed multiple times?

A conversation I had with someone in a hostel in Sydney 3 years ago.

31. What type of music keeps you grounded?

Mostly Rock music. It sometimes switches to kontra k if I'm in a really bad mood.

33. The last adventure you've been on?

The vacation trip to Marseille with one of my best friends. It got quite adventurous when we found out that the train we wanted to take on our way back was completely booked out...and we don't speak a word French. We made it home though.

34. Is there a song where you know every word by heart?

There are definitely a few where I might now everything but won't admit it. Probably hura die Welt geht unter by K.I.Z or Altes Fieber by die toten hosen except that I keep forgetting the first few lines.

36. How many times have you changed your URL?

One time I think. This is the first URL i actually use.

41. How do you take your coffee?

I rarely have (selfmade) coffee. I usually go for latte macchiato with oatmilk whenever I can.

42. An app you frequently use besides this godforsaken site?

I spend way to much time on YouTube, which is why I decided to not allow myself any social media until the end of the week.

44. You get a free pass to kill anyone, who is it?

Honestly no idea. Also depends if killing them would actually make a difference.

48. When did you first try an alcohol beverage?

Probably Carneval when I was 13 or 14? Just a sib from my dad's beer... Thought it was gross.

Thank you for all the questions :)

#asks

[stabbedinthenameofscience]

At the small elementary school in Jouy-sous-les-Côtes, in northeastern France, Gisèle Marc knew the rumor about her: that her parents were not her real parents, and her real mother must have been a whore. It was the late 1940s, just after the war, a time when whispered stories like this one passed from parents to children. Women who were said to have slept with occupying soldiers—“horizontal collaborators”—had their heads shaved and were publicly shamed by angry crowds. In the schoolyard, children jeered at those who were said to be born of “unknown fathers.”

The idea that Gisèle might have been abandoned by someone of ill repute made her terribly ashamed. At the age of 10, she gathered her courage and confronted her mother, who told her the truth: We adopted you when you were 4 years old; you spoke German, but now you are French. Gisèle and her mother hardly ever talked about it again.

Gisèle found her adoption file, hidden in a drawer in her parents’ room, and from time to time she snuck a look at it. It contained little information. When she was 18, she burned it on the stove. “I said to myself, If I want to live, I have to get rid of all this,” she told me.

Gisèle is 79 now, and she does not regret burning the papers. For a time, she was able to put aside questions about her origins. At 17, she took a job in a children’s home and hospital and realized she had found her calling. She spent her career working mainly in day-care centers, and eventually founded her own.In 1972, she married Justin Niango, a chemistry student from the Ivory Coast. They bought an old hotel just behind Stanislas Square in Nancy and turned it into a house.

Gisèle held off on telling her children that she had been adopted, because she was worried that the revelation might weaken their bonds with her parents. Sometimes, though, the secret “burned a bit.” She knew she would share it eventually.

When her mother died, in 2004, she gathered her children and told them. They were shocked, and asked questions whose answers she did not know.

After years of denial, Gisèle longed to find those answers. She remembered the name and place of birth that had been listed in her burned adoption file: Gisela Magula, born in Bar-le-Duc, in northeastern France. She started her research there,and went on to writeto the Arolsen Archives, the international center on Nazi persecution, in Germany, to ask if there was any mention of her in the organization’s extensive records.

In March 2005, Gisèle received a reply: She had not been born in Bar-le-Duc after all, but near Liège, Belgium, in a Nazi maternity home at the Château de Wégimont. That home and others like it had been set up by the SS, an elite corps of Nazi soldiers, under the umbrella of the Lebensborn association, through which the regime sought to encourage the birth of babies of “good blood” in order to hasten its ultimate goal of Aryan racial purity.

Everything Gisèle believed about herself wavered. The family she’d spent her adult life defending against racism, she realized, descended from one of history’s darkest racial projects.

Nazism was an ideology of destruction, one that held as its primary aim the elimination of “inferior races.” But another, equally fervent aspect of the Nazi credo was focused on an imagined form of restoration: As soon as they came to power, the Nazis set out to produce a new generation of pure-blooded Germans. The Lebensborn association was a key part of this plan. Established in 1935 under the auspices of the SS, it was intended to encourage procreation among members of the Aryan race by providing birthing mothers with comfort, financial support, and, when necessary, secrecy. The association’s headquarters were in Munich, in the former villa of the writer Thomas Mann, who had left Germany in 1933. In 1936, it opened its first maternity home, in nearby Steinhöring.

The SS was overseen by Heinrich Himmler, who hoped that its elite soldiers would serve as a racial vanguard for a revitalized Germanity. “As far as the value of our blood and the numbers of our population are concerned, we are dying out,” he said in a 1931 address to the SS. “We are called upon to establish foundations so that the next generation can make history.” An agronomist by training, Himmler supervised this undertaking with a level of attention that bordered on voyeurism; initially, all SS leaders’ marriage applications had to be referred to him. All were expected to reproduce: Four children was considered “the minimum amount … for a good sound marriage.” Himmler had no problem with childbearing outside marriage, and criticized the Catholic Church’s hostility toward illegitimate births. Raising “illegitimate or orphaned children of good blood” should be an “accepted custom,” Himmler wrote. In 1939, he issued an order that called on members of the SS to procreate wherever they could, including with women to whom they were not married.

According to Himmler, the Lebensborn homes were intended “primarily for the brides and wives of our young SS men, and secondarily for illegitimate mothers of good blood.” But the latter were, in practice, a majority. Far from the eyes of the world, single mothers could give birth in Lebensborn homes and, if they wanted to, abandon their babies, who would receive the best care before being placed in an adoptive family—so long as the biological parents met the racial criteria (photos of both were required). Early applicants had to meet a height requirement, and had to prove their racial and medical fitness going back two generations. The German historian Georg Lilienthal found that initially, fewer than half of the women who applied were accepted.

The women also received a daily “ideological education,” according to the historian Lisa Pine. Some of the babies were given a non-Christian first name by Lebensborn staff in a ceremony inspired by old Nordic customs. Under a Nazi flag and a portrait of the führer, in front of a congregation, the master of ceremonies would hold an SS dagger over the newborn and recite this creed: “We take you into our community as a limb of our body. You shall grow up in our protection and bring honor to your name, pride to your brotherhood, and inextinguishable glory to your race.” Through this ceremony, they believed, the child became a member of the SS clan, forever linked to the Reich.

By October 11, 1943, when Gisèle was born, there were about 16 Lebensborn facilities throughout Nazi-occupied Europe. She arrived four days too late to have Himmler as her godfather; the Reichsführer personally sponsored the children who shared his birthday, October 7.

Gisèle rejects the idea that there’s a connection between her career and her early years spent in a very different kind of day care—she chose her path, after all, long before she knew where she had really come from.

Still, she doesn’t minimize the fact that her life story is inextricable from the history of Nazism. She has often wondered how her origins might shape what she calls her “internal memory”: She has always been terribly afraid of military trucks, trains, and leather boots. She cannot bear to hear babies crying; at her day care, she would often leave her office to comfort the little ones. She worries, too, that she somehow passed something evil on to her children through her genes.

A chance encounter helped Gisèle trace her origins. A few months after her mother’s death, just as she began her research, her cousin went to a funeral where a tall man with blond hair gave a eulogy for the departed, a teacher who had believed in him. The man, Walter Beausert, talked about his arrival in France as a child, in a convoy from Germany. Gisèle’s cousin, who was old enough to remember Gisèle’s adoption and knew that she’d come from Germany, struck up a conversation with Beausert after the funeral. Her cousin wondered whether Gisèle might have been in the same convoy.

The story that Gisèle has pieced together is still full of holes, but she now knows the identity of her biological mother. Marguerite Magula was a Hungarian woman who immigrated to Brussels with her parents and sister in 1926. Marguerite eventually went to Germany to work, with her mother and sister, in a garment factory in Saarbrücken. When she got pregnant, in 1943, she ran away and returned to Brussels. Dorothee Schmitz-Köster, the author of Lifelong Lebensborn: The Desired Children of the SS and What Became of Them, told me thatby then, the Lebensborn program had somewhat loosened its criteria: A fervent belief in National Socialism could make up for being short, as Marguerite was, though an Aryan certificate, a health certificate, and a certificate of hereditary health were still mandatory for both parents.

Gisèle’s feelings toward Marguerite have changed over time. When she learned from the Steinhöring archives that some mothers had searched for their children after the war, trying to get them back, Gisèle came to hate her. “She never sought me out,” Gisèle said. “I have no compassion, nothing; quite the opposite. That’s not a mother.” A postwar document denying Marguerite’s request for Hungarian citizenship (she and her sister were then stateless) mentions her “bad life.” Had Gisèle and Marguerite met, maybe she could have explained. But Marguerite died in 2001, just a few years before Gisèle began her search.

Gisèle has been less curious about the identity of her father; she imagines him as the stereotype of an SS officer—undoubtedly “a bastard.”

In 2009, Gisèle met a half brother, Claude, born after the war, who was raised by Marguerite. They still visit each other from time to time. Claude, she said, describes their mother as having mistreated him. He once told Gisèle she was lucky not to have grown up with their mother.

Like Gisèle, Walter Beausert owed the discovery of his origins to chance. At the birth of his first daughter, Valérie, in 1966, the midwife stared at Beausert, then 22 years old. Behind his helmet of straight blond hair, she noticed his light-blue eyes—one of them was a glass eye that never closed—and remembered the 17 small children who had arrived by train at the hospital in Commercy in 1946. “I think you come from Germany,” she said to him. It confirmed something Walter had always suspected.

In 1994, while filming the television report about the Lebensborn, Walter traveled to the site of the former Lebensborn home at the Château de Wégimont, where he heard from locals about a woman named Rita, a Lebensborn cook, who had had a baby boy named Walter. As German soldiers tried to take Walter away from Rita, the story went, he was dropped and his left eye was injured. This was the lead the grown-up Walter had been waiting for—Rita, he came to believe, was his mother.

“Except that’s not true,” Valérie said. “We met this Rita; we know who this Walter is. He’s not my father. But he didn’t want to hear anything about it. He said Rita had a second child who was also named Walter. I told him, ‘This doesn’t make any sense.’ His denial was pathological.”

Their son, Lâm, was born with one brown eye and one blue eye. One eye—the blue one—presented with a deficiency. The doctor identified a congenital abnormality that could cause blindness, which Valérie also carried and had passed on to him. Her father’s glass eye, she realized, was not the result of an injury at all. “When my son had to undergo an operation, I told my father, ‘You see, it is congenital.’” Her father was outraged, Valérie recalled: “Nonsense! You can’t say that!”

It wasn’t just that Walter wanted to believe that his glass eye was the result of his biological mother’s struggle to protect him from German soldiers; he was also terrified of disease, of being “a carrier of defects,” Valérie said, and went to great lengths to prove his superior strength and stoicism. One day, while he was chopping wood, his friend’s chainsaw ripped through a trunk, cutting both of Walter’s calves to the bone. Walter made himself two tourniquets and drove home. Valérie remembers him walking up the stairs as if nothing had happened, both legs bloody, and calmly asking her to call an ambulance.

Walter found others’ fragility unbearable. When his wife, Valérie’s mother, was diagnosed with cancer, Valérie sometimes kept him out of her room. “He would tell her, ‘You have to fight; you must eat; that’s how you get better.’ It was a form of psychological abuse.”

To Valérie, this trait in her father was a troubling echo of the Nazi emphasis on physical superiority. “A young German must be as swift as a greyhound, as tough as leather, and as hard as Krupp steel,” Hitler proclaimed in 1935. Lebensborn children born with conditions such as Down syndrome, cleft lip, or clubfoot were thrown out of the homes, or killed.

Sometimes Valérie worries about what she, and her son, might have inherited from her father. “When I see some of my son’s character traits—a little tough, a little authoritarian—which could belong to my father but also to me, I always have this fleeting anxiety: Did we pass along something of the Lebensborn?”

In the summer of 1945, Life magazine published a report, with pictures by the photographer Robert Capa, on the “super babies” of a Lebensborn home. “The Hohenhorst bastards of Himmler’s men are blue-eyed, flaxen-haired and pig fat,” one caption read. “Too much porridge, plenty of sunlight have made this Nazi baby in hand-knitted suit and bootees so fat and healthy that he completely fills his over-sized carriage,” read another. “Grown pig fat under care and overstuffing Nazi nurses, they now pose to the Allies a problem yet to be solved.” The tone gives an idea of the level of resentment that Americans and Europeans felt in 1945 toward those who were spared the war’s horrors—even toddlers.

But not all Lebensborn babies were blue-eyed, flaxen haired, or even, for that matter, “pig fat.” Likely because of the lack of bonding with a single caregiver, some children were developmentally delayed. Medical exams performed after the war indicate that Walter was underweight. A document from French social workers describes Gisèle as having had tantrums upon her arrival in France.

For Gisèle and her fellow Lebensborn children, the Allies’ liberation of Belgium marked the beginning of a journey—in wicker cradles wedged in the back of military trucks—through a devastated Europe. In The Factory of Perfect Children, the French journalist Boris Thiolay recounts thatGerman soldiers in retreat left the Lebensborn home near Liège on September 1, 1944, with about 20 toddlers. After several stops in Germany and Poland, the children found themselves at the very first Lebensborn, in Steinhöring. Walter Beausert had ended up there too.

In Steinhöring, SS officials were crammed together with children and pregnant women from other institutions that were now closed. Boxes of documents cluttered the corridors of the maternity ward, where women continued to give birth.

When the news of Hitler’s death broke, officials burned as many documents as they could. Thiolay describes the goals of this purge: “The birth registers, the identity of the children, the fathers, the organization chart, the names of the people in charge: everything must disappear. The evidence of the Lebensborn’s very existence must be removed.”But the Nazis’ obsession with documents made fully expunging the records an impossible task—there were too many.

A few days after Hitler’s death, a small detachment of U.S. soldiers arrived in Steinhöring, and the children changed hands: The Americans were responsible for them now.

The older children were encouraged to help the younger ones. A picture shows three small blond girls gently combing babies’ hair and spoon-feeding them as if they were playing with dolls. Another photo shows a group of babies on a checkered comforter under the watch of the American social worker Lillian Robbins and a Sister of Mercy. In the corner, sitting on the floor away from the other toddlers, is little Walter, one eye closed, smiling at the photographer.

The UNRRA staff tried to find the children’s surviving family members, if there were any, though some children had no recorded identity. Some were given an approximate birth date. This was perhaps what happened with Walter Beausert, whose official date of birth falls on a suspicious, though of course possible, date: January 1, 1944. His birthplace was unknown, but, likely because he was believed to have previously lived at a Lebensborn home in France, UNRRA staff decided to send him there from Indersdorf.

As for young Gisela, her file showed that she was born in “Wégimont” (omitting the château’s full name), which staff believed to be a French town. She joined Walter in the convoy bound for the Meuse region of France, whose population had never recovered from World War I. Gisela became Gisèle, and her life as a French child began.

Were they “survivors,” these toddlers who owed their existence to Nazi birth policy, who ate fresh fruit and porridge while other babies were gassed or starved to death?

On October 10, 1947, in Nuremberg, four Lebensborn leaders appeared before a special American military tribunal as part of the Subsequent Nuremberg Trials, which prosecuted ancillary Nazi leaders. Three charges were brought against them: crimes against humanity, war crimes, and membership in a criminal organization. Three out of the four leaders were found guilty of the third charge. But the tribunal established that the Lebensborn had been only a “welfare institution.” The children, therefore, were not considered victims.

Until the 1970s, Lebensborn homes were treated as a rumor, or described as stud farms where SS men mated with racially selected women. The first book to be published about Lebensborn came out in France in 1975 and contributed to this misunderstanding by suggesting that the “nurses” were in fact selected to be breeding mothers. Georg Lilienthal wrote the first academic work on the program, in 1986.

In the nine years the program lasted, at least 9,200 children were born in the homes. Some 1,200 were born in Norway, which had the most SS maternity homes outside Germany. After the war, these children, along with women who were suspected of having had affairs with German soldiers, were ostracized. Some of these women were even interned in camps. France had only one Lebensborn home, which operated for less than a year, so Lebensborn children there were far less likely to be recognized as such.

In 2011, Gisèle and Walter traveled to Indersdorf to join the annual commemoration held there by former residents of UNRRA’s reception center; Gisèle described the organizers as “Jewish children,” just as she still refers to herself as a “child of the Lebensborn.” “It was extraordinary” tobe included in the ceremony, she told me. While she was in Indersdorf, she went to visit Dachau twice. She felt she needed to confront what she might have believed in had she been raised in an SS family.

Together, Gisèle and Walter started the Association for the Memory of Child Victims of the Lebensborn in 2016, an effort to encourage public recognition of Lebensborn children as victims of war.

Walter, for his part, became obsessed with gaining acceptance from the Jewish community. He studied the Torah and identified as a Zionist. “He used to celebrate Jewish holidays,” Valérie remembers. “His Jewish friends were a great help to my father. To tell him, ‘You are also a victim, Walter’ was the greatest gift.”

He died in 2021, wearing a Star of David around his neck. He had been in poor health, and living in a retirement home. A few days earlier, for the first time in his life, he had admitted that maybe Rita was not his mother.

Valérie has kept a comb that still contains her father’s hair. One day, she hopes to find out what secrets his DNA might contain.

Gisèle’s husband, Justin, died 15 years ago, but she still spends nearly every winter in Africa, in his village, where she is “famous,” she said, in part because residents saw her on TV, in a segment about the Lebensborn.

At home in Nancy, she keeps a photograph of her biological mother on display, though she doesn’t look at it much anymore. “It’s my heritage. I don’t want to forget that I was born from this woman,” she told me. All she wants now is for her story to be told. “I’m modest,” she joked. “I want the whole world to know about it.”

Her son Gabriel married a German woman, and her grandchildren speak German, a language she has completely forgotten. “It shows that history goes on,” she said. Her son Matthieu is working on a book about the Lebensborn, and with his wife, Camille, he wrote a play about the children’s story. Recently, I attended a reading at a small theater in Paris. I watched Gisèle, seated next to her daughter Virginie, as she watched her own story acted out.

“They say history is written by the victors,” one actor said. “But most of all, it’s written by the adults.” Gisèle discreetly dried her tears behind her glasses.

[welsh98groth]

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