There’s a post going around about pretty much how the marauders would be homophobic back in their hogwarts years and I want to put my opinion out there real quick
okay. So… We’re talking about the 70s, there was indeed a lot of prejudice back then and it wasn’t easy to come out.
With that said, we’re talking about four boys in which:
Boy #1 is a half-blood wizard and werewolf. Also not heterosexual. As any young person growing in a poorly informed environment regarding sexuality (let’s be real, I don’t think the school library would have a lot of books explaining puberty at all, maybe Troll’s Puberty For Dummies, but that isn’t really helpful) he would be scared and it would take time for him to come terms with who he is and who he loves, this taking in account older Remus as we know him. I have made a previous post about this matter, in which, in my HEADcanon I say that I think Lily would be the first person Remus would turn to only because in my HEADcanon they are really close friends and well, Remus needed a female touch in the matter But, ultimately, he would come out to his friends and everything would have worked alright because they all love each other and Remus, slowly but steady, also learns to love himself. Werewolf and all.
Boy #2 is also a half-blood who gets to see what prejudice does in the muggle world and how it grows into hatred and violence all these nasty problems. As a eleven, twelve, thirteen, etc year old, he doesn’t get why people would have these kinds of reactions towards people who don’t share the same romantic interests as themselves. He doesn’t get either why the colour of the skin is something of a big deal to muggles or why the purity of one’s blood is a big deal to wizards. Peter is a boy who watched the muggle and the wizard world grow in hate over matters that shouldn’t be problems and he would not question nor hate his friends over any of it because he doesn’t want to be like that. He’s very naive as child and that helps him in a path to acceptance rather than hate.
Boy #3 is a pure blood born and raised to be part of the wizard high society but with loving and understanding parents who didn’t blink twice over accepting his son’s best friend into their home to step in as the parents the boy didn’t have. The Potters raised James to be a good, understanding person. He was cocky, yes. But he was not a bad person, he was not a bigot. He helped the 1st years that were being bullied by the group of blood purists that were in Hogwarts at the same time as he was, and he didn’t even blink when one of his best friends told him he was a werewolf. James Potter believed in loyalty above all, he would have opened his arms towards his pan/bi/demi/ace/homo-sexual friends and even throw some playful jokes in about how he always knew Sirius liked to stare at his awesome arse. He would not turn his back to his friends for something as shallow as one’s sexuality.
Boy #4 is also a pure blood but from a very traditional family in every aspect of the word. Sirius Black grew in a toxic environment but he knew those weren’t the right ideals to have. He knew it and he fought against it to the point he had to run away from home. Sirius was a rebel and he knew what he was and was perfectly fine with it and he knew his friends would too because in them he found family, in his friends he found home.
Besides all this, don’t forget that the boys accepted Remus lycanthropy to the point they turned themselves into illegal animagi to be able to help his friend who every month would turn into a raging, murder-y, furry creature. If you think for one second that they accepted all that but had problems if any of them stuck their d*cks in arseh*les instead of v*gina, I don’t even know what else I can tell you
A/N: First of all, be safe kids, remember, abstinence. Anyways, let’s say Peter is in Senior year here. I made him a little older because, I didn’t want to make him a dad at 15 (: And, I didn’t really end it end it, but you guys could let me know if you want a Part two on how it ends, if not, it ends like this.
You paced back and forth.
How were you going to tell your boyfriend, Peter, that he, a 17 year old boy, is going to be a dad?
You two are currently in the middle of Senior year. Almost about to start the rest of your lives.
I guess it’s going to start sooner.
There’s already so many things going on in Peter’s life, you don’t want to add any more complications.
He’s living a double life as Peter Parker, a normal teen in high school, and Spider-Man, your friendly neighborhood spider-man.
You thought Hannah Montana had it hard, but Peter’s Aunt May doesn’t even know his secret.
Oh my gosh, AuntMay.
What are you going to do about Aunt May?
She’ll kill Peter! Heck, she’ll kill you too!
So many thoughts ran through your mind, you felt– you felt like– you felt like you would–
Bam! You fell dramatically, almost in slow motion, but not quite, on the floor. Unconscious.
Your eyes fluttered open.
“What time is it?”
You looked around. It seems dark already, “I guess Peter’s not home yet.”
You get up, walking to the kitchen to get a glass of water.
You can see Aunt May from the living room. She’s reading a book, unaware that you’re in the kitchen.
You grab a glass and almost dropped it. You were still a bit dizzy.
“(Y/n)? Did you wake up from your little nap?”
“Huh?– Oh– I didn’t take a nap?”
“Really? I saw you asleep on the floor of Peter’s room?”
You shake your head ‘no’, she just shrugs it off and goes back to her book.
After drinking some water and eating some crackers, you go back to wait for Peter in his room.
You lay on the bed, hugging the pillow tight to your chest. The scent of Peter making you smile.
“I really have to tell him today,” you said to yourself. It’s been a few weeks since you found out and so far the only one that knows is your mom, who I should say, is very supportive and excited to have a grandchild. Your family was always chill with anything, so you weren’t afraid of them. You were afraid of what Peter might say, and what Aunt May would do. Aunt May is the sweetest but, when it comes to Peter’s safety, well, let’s just say her mom’s instinct kicks in.
You though for quite a while, it’s now or never.
You got up, throwing the pillow into his bunk. You were on your way to confess to Aunt May.
Aunt May has always loved you, ever since you and Peter got together at homecoming. You know, before he stormed off and left you. But before that, we were best friends. So of course, you knew it was for Spider-Man duties that he left you in a middle of a dance.
“Hey, Aunt May. Ca– Can I talk t– to you?”
She looks up at you and smile, putting her book down on the coffee table, she took her legs off of the couch patting it for you to sit down.
“What’s up honey bun?”
“Can– can you keep a secret? As of right now at least..”
“Sure thing. What is it?”
“Pr– omise not to get mad?”
She smiles, holding out her pinky.
You let out a sigh, hooking your pinky onto hers.
“Promise,” she says.
You clear your throat, taking your phone case off of your phone. There was three small pieces of the same sized paper inside.
You grab one of them and hand it to her.
“Here, I– I think you should have this.”
She lets out an airy laugh, “what is it?”
You tilt your head up, motioning for her to flip the white paper over.
She does it, speechless when she sees the image.
“Congratulations, o– on being a Grandma…”
She smiles, slowly bringing her hand up to cover her mouth. Muffling a sob.
Tears formed in her eyes as she looks at you.
“You’re not mad, right?”
She takes her hand off of her mouth, looking at you, laughing with joy.
“Oh my– (Y/n)! I– I– don’t know what to say!”
You can hear the joy in her voice. You let out a sigh of relief, knowing she’s happy for you and not mad whatsoever.
“Does Peter know?”
You were about to answer her question but is interrupted.
“Does Peter know what?”
You both turn to the door, Peter staring at you two crying messes confusedly.
“What’s going on?”
Aunt May, with tears down her face, walks up to Peter, grabbing his face and giving him a big kiss on the cheek.
“I’m happy for you,” she turns to look at you, “for the both of you.”
Then, she was gone, off to her room.
Peter watch her leave, then looks at you confused.
“What the heck is going on?”
“H– how was the training?” You said the last part quietly, Aunt May thought he was at a study group with some classmates.
“It was alright, now what’s going on?”
“Let’s go to your room. Go change and stuff first. You stink.”
Peter lets out an amused laugh, hugging you, “here, now you’ll smell as stinky as me!”
After Peter got out of the shower, he walked up to you, wearing nothing but a towel, while drying his hair with another towel.
You lay sideways on the bed, “hurry up and put some clothes on, I’m gonna end up falling asleep before I even get to tell you what happened.”
By knowing how fast you can fall asleep, Peter puts his pajamas on in a snap.
You felt more confident in telling Peter after you told Aunt May, since she was extra super duper happy about it. You thought Peter would be happier than her, if it was even possible.
He jumps on the bed, on top of you. You grunt once his body hits you.
“Owwwww, get off! You’re too heavy,” you laugh.
He shifts to a more comfortable position next to you, hugging you close.
“Wait, I should take a video of this,” you say standing up, getting out of his hold. Peter lays there sad and confused.
“I didn’t get to take a video when I told Aunt May.” you ran around, getting your camera and tripod.
“Told her what?”
“Be patient, hold on,” you say, struggling to put your camera on the new tripod you bought.
You click the recording button once you got it to a good angle, jumping back on the bed, sitting in front of Peter.
“Wh– what’s going on? Why are you filming this?”
“You know,” you said, ignoring him and saying what’s currently on your mind, “if someone was to walk in, this would totally be embarrassing.”
He laughs, but you were serious.
Grabbing your phone again, doing the same thing you did before, you turn to Pete.
“This is what I showed Aunt May.”
He grabs the small sheet of paper.
At first he doesn’t know what it is but he soon gets it.
“Wait… are you?”
You nod, pointing to the small circle on the picture.
“See that little Pea? That smol little bean?”
“That’s our little baby.”
“You mean? You’re pregnant? Wi– with my child?”
You smack his shoulder, “Duh! Who else’s baby would it be!”
“I know I know, I’m just–.”
Before he could say anything else, the door burst open.
“Did you tell him!”
Aunt May stood at the door, jumping up and down.
“Yes May, I told him.”
“Are you as excited as I am?” Aunt May tells Peter.
“You’re okay with it?”
“Heck yeah! I’m gonna be a Grandma!”
“That is so weird for you to say,” Peter says, calmly.
You turn to him, with a sad voice you say, “are you not excited? Or happy? I thought you would be…”
Tears began to form in your eyes as Peter looks at you with a worried expression.
May’s enthusiasm disappeared as well, she crossed her arms over her chest as she look at Peter, waiting for him to say something.
“I– I’m just worried. That’s all.”
“About a baby. We’re on our last year of high school. We have more important things to do. I still have that Stark Internship after all.”
prompt: Harry as a child walking out of his primary school but Dudley & co start harassing him. Draco is a child that is passing, and he defends Harry and they become friends skip a few years n they're admitting that they like each other
“Hey, four eyes!” Harry heard the familiar voice of his cousin Dudley call out to him. Harry turned around to face him and his cronies. Even though he was only a few month older than him, Dudley’s large figure made him appear older and stronger. “I didn’t know losers were allowed in this park.”
“Why not? They seem to make an exception for morons.” He retorted. Dudley and the other nine year olds standing beside him advanced on Harry who ran as quickly as he could to get away from them. Unfortunately, not all of them were as big and slow as Dudley. One of the skinnier boys caught him by his oversized t-shirt. He spun Harry around and pinned him up against the fence where they punched, kicked, and scratched at him.
“Hey!” He heard another boy yell. The gang of boys turned around. Harry could just make out the blurry outline of a thin, blonde boy. “Leave him alone!”
“Or what?” Said Dudley menacingly. Though the blonde kid did not back down, his stood as if he was superior to everyone around him.
“Or my father will hear about this.” He said snootily.
Dudley laughed darkly. “You’re going to tell on us? Yes, why don’t you run to your daddy, coward.” He then proceeded to push the boy down.
While the others were distracted, Harry had just enough time to put his glasses back on his face before one of Dudley’s cronies noticed and slammed him back into the fence. He could see the other boy more clearly now. His blonde hair was slicked back out of his grey eyes. He had blood running down his elbow, standing out against the incredibly pale skin. The next thing he knew was the boy, who couldn’t be much older than Harry, had stood up and punched Dudley square in the nose.
He stumbled back, his friends rushing up to him to make sure he was okay. In all the commotion, Harry didn’t notice the pale boy make his way next to him. He only realized when he started to drag him away.
Once they were at a safe distance, both panting from running and adrenaline, Harry spoke. “Thanks. For sticking up for me.” The boy nodded. “I’m Harry Potter.”
“I’m Draco Malfoy.” The boy, Draco, told him. “Do you want to be friends?”
Harry was taken aback. No one had ever asked to be friends with him before. Nevertheless, Harry accepted his proposal.
From that day forward, Harry and Draco were inseparable. They hung out at each other’s houses all the time, did their homework together, and, once they got a bit older, talked about girls together. Well, Harry talked about girls to Draco. Whenever the subject of crushes came up, he seemed to avoid it entirely. Harry never questioned it though. He just suspected his best friend was embarrassed about who he liked and never wanted to push him.
I really like his character in general, which mostly goes to the fact that I relate to him a lot in Tallstar’s Revenge.
But as a leader I always loved how calm he could be and how he rather wanted to value the Clans’ unity rather than their differences, which in general is a characteristic I like in a leader -type character. While I think he made a horrible choice with appointing Onewhisker as the new leader instead of Mudclaw, I still respect the intention and vision he had behind it.
13. Least favourite leader
I mean, this guy is just an asshole, and not in an entertaining or interesting way like some characters. He literally has 0 redeeming qualities. He was a horrible, abusive mate to Yellowfang who abandoned her to deal with her trauma alone and afterwards never had the courtesy to even respect her as the Medicine Cat, and he was a terrible role model to Brokenkit and only ever cared about his son as a status symbol rather than actually being concerned of his well-being (like u know, actually talk to him about how he doesn’t get along with the other kits or how Lizardstripe is being an abusive foster mother. Actual dad stuff u know?).
And on the top of that, he wasn’t even a good leader. He wasn’t loved by his clanmates, he didn’t accomplish anything to benefit his Clan and he just let Brokentail do whathever he wanted even when the Clan’s Medicine Cat and elders (basically the most experienced and smartest members in Clan) were telling him it’s not a good idea.
Imagine if Jamie travelled through the stones, but instead of finding Claire in Boston he found himself having arrived years too early, when the War was still happening and Claire had yet to meet him... What would he do?
Notes from Mod Bonnie
Trying something a bit new as a palate-cleanser, lads and lasses!
Please do note that I am blissfully, unapologetically putting next-to-no effort into making this historically accurate. Soooo, if you’re in a military history/fact-checking/date-referencing mood… best take those efforts elsewhere ;D
Hope you enjoy!
The Last All-Clear
September 17, 1942: A Rusty Nail
C. E. B. Randall
Camp Nightwing, France
Daytime rotation today.
No new battle casualties & all quiet in the distance, thank God.
Did tend M. Danton (scored on the arm w/ rusted nail; antibiotics & sterile bandage to finish; strict instructions to report in 3 days for follow-up).
A strange sort, and no two ways about it.
“Claire—darling—dearest—You know how much I ADORE you, don’t you?”
I was already smirking—fondly, but smirking nonetheless—by the time I turned from restocking the supply cabinets for tomorrow. “How much do you adore me, Nance?”
“So much that I’ll do absolutely any of your chores—ALL your chores!!—for a week if you’ll go tend Danton??”
“Danton? The frenchman?” A glance revealed a familiar set of hunched shoulders (spilled over with filthy black hair) just visible through the cracked partition of the infirmary tent. “What’s happened to him?”
“Nothing serious. Says he got scraped by a nail or screw or something this morning and needs to be cleaned up a bit, but oh, please, Claire??” Nancy whined, grabbing both my hands in hers. “I know you were supposed to go off-duty at eight and it’s nine-thirty already but puh-LEASE will you take ten minutes before you go and be the one to tend him?? Please-please-pl—”
“Good Lord, no need to go into a tizzy about it,” I laughed, a bit taken aback by how truly distraught she seemed. “Surely the man doesn’t bite!” Though in truth, I didn’t know that for certain.
I’d never spoken to him, nor even so much as looked him in the eye, but Danton—was his first name even known?— was a legend in camp. He’d joined the company a month or two ago, they said, one of the men-of-all-work that alternately served as laborer, orderly, handyman, gravedigger, or any other role requiring a strong back. Though I’d always gotten the sense he was past his prime, from the state of his clothing and posture and hygiene, a strong back Danton did have, and whatever his age might be, he was indispensable. The camp always had to be ready to go into action, or even pick up and move entirely at a moment’s notice. In this chaotic wartime reality, with life and death so often on the line, a spare set of hands was always needful.
There were a dozen such men in camp, all of them civilian frenchmen, but Danton was the only one people seemed to talk about; which was quite the irony, given that he was a man of notoriouslyfew words. He kept always to himself, speaking only when directly addressed, gruffly and shortly when he was, crossing the verge of sheer bad-temperedness more often than not. Rooms tended to shift to low whispers when Danton entered, if not empty entirely.
It didn’t seem to bother him. The entirety of my experience with the man consisted of glimpses from across the camp or mess-hall. Yet, even that barest of acquaintance was enough to have convinced me that the unsmiling, grubby Danton—with his hunched shoulders, with that profoundly-unkempt black hair and drooping cap that together hid his eyes—wished to be left alone.
My skin had prickled, though, whenever I had studied him, crawling with something I couldn’t quite put into words or even—
“He gives me the absolute heebie-jeebies!!” Nancy summarized neatly in a whisper. “I can’t do it, I just can’t! Anything you ask, Claire, and it’s done, but PLEASE be a brick and get me out of this??”
I would have agreed in any case—if for nothing more than to satisfy my own slightly-morbid curiosity— but I had absolutely no qualms over letting Nancy take my bedpan duties for a week out of the bargain.
….and surely the man DIDN’T bite?
He JUMPED as though shot, and I startled so violently (absurdly searching for elongated canines in the momentary panic) that I swore and dropped my tray, the bowl, cloth, and other impedimenta clattering and scattering all over the floor with great metallic crashes.
I was utterly mortified, positively dove to my hands and knees to gather the scattered supplies and hide my face, and then the sensation doubled to realize that the frenchman was on the ground beside me. I had only enough time to notice the juxtaposition of the fine leather glove on his left hand with the wretched filth of his clothing before he was placing the last item on the tray. “Thank you,” I mumbled awkwardly, glancing up to smile in thanks, and caught a momentary glimpse of vivid blue eyes before he recoiled, leaping to his feet and busying himself with getting the tray on the table.
Shy, whatever else he might be.
“Well, we’re off to a bumpy start, sol—Sir,” I managed with a weak laugh as I got to my feet, throwing myself fully into that ‘jovial commanding-officer’ character that had weathered many an awkward encounter in my career to-date. My usual script felt a little bereft without the useful address of ’soldier.’ “I’m Nurse Randall,” I said more briskly, clearing my throat with a smile. “I’m told you need medical attention for your arm?”
He rolled up his sleeve without so much as a word. Very well, down to busin—
“Good LORD!” I gasped, stepping forward and reaching for the arm, then pushing him down into the chair. Not merely a scrape: it was a slash, a wicked, deep one, about two inches long, just below the right elbow. “This needs stitches! What the bloody hell happened?”
Giving him the benefit of the doubt, I said more kindly in French, “Monsieur, will you tell me what happened to your arm?”
No nod. No grunt. The brute didn’t bother even to raise his chin from his chest.
No language barrier, then: just an arse.
I reached for the antiseptic, my nostrils flaring. “Will you look at the state of this?” The blood had long since clotted, but the wound clearly hadn’t been washed, let alone sterilized. “Why in God’s name didn’t you come and get help for it right away?”
“Excuse me, I am TALKING to you,” I snapped, choosing to stick with French for castigation as I prepared the suturing supplies. “Why didn’t you bother coming for help unt—?”
“Do what’s-must to prevent the festering and I’ll be going, yes?” he snapped back with such venom that I would have gasped if I weren’t so grounded in pique.
So: he was both capable of speech and every bit as ill-tempered for it. Lord, give me the strength not to SLAP this man. I bit my tongue and cleansed the wound in icy silence.
“Far from home?” I blurted testily, when the tension became too insufferable even for me.
His head snapped up.
“Your accent,” I clarified as I reached for a clean cloth, genuinely curious despite my ire, “—your syntax. It’s not a standard dialect…nor like the other frenchmen in camp, I think?”
I had about an ounce of pleasantness left in me and I scraped it up to force a smile. “Grow up in the country, eh?”
“…Care to share where?”
“Well, you’re just a blooming basket of violet-scented rainbows, aren’t you?” I snapped in English. “Hold bloody still, this will hurt and you’ll deserve every blasted bit of it.” I gritted my teeth and swore under my breath as I began stitching, in absolutely no mood for grumpy man-children. “Jesus H. Roosevelt CHRIST.”
By complete chance, standing bent over his arm as I began to stitch, I happened to be looking down at his mouth as I said it. To my absolute gobsmacked surprise, I saw a smile twitching at the corners, small and restrained, as though he were trying very much not to show it, but clear as day: a tiny smile verging on a grin.
Well…! Not a *complete* automaton, then.
I was taken still further aback when the mouth opened and said quietly in French without looking up, “Forgive me, please, Madame. I do not mean you ill.” The tone told me he was being genuine. “It is only that I do not very much like—speaking.”
“It’s good to work at things you don’t like doing,” I said, fixing what I could see of his face with a sardonic glare between stitches, but trying not to smile. “Builds character.”
Another infinitesimal twitch of the lips before he dropped his head, strings of wavy black hair hiding his features entirely. “It is—a small bit more easy to manage, in French.”
“We’ll stick with the Français then,” I said, letting a smile show in my voice.
I finished the stitching and sterilization in a more comfortable silence. He took the hypodermic needle without so much as a wince, though I could see him watching it intently, sternly almost, as though not entirely sure what to make of it. From the country, indeed.
“You’re so much younger than I would have supposed.”
“…I beg your pardon, Madame?”
I could hardly fault him for being taken aback, as I had blurted it with absolutely no thought for context, let alone grace. I recovered as best I could, all things considered, focusing over-intently on wrapping the bandage around his forearm. “From a distance, I had assumed you to be far older.”
Honestly, for a man with such a beard and posture, that default manner that could charitably be described as cantankerous, it was alarming to find that not only was he not middle-aged,but hecouldn’t possibly be older than—
“Thirty? At most?”
“Thereabouts.” After a pause, he added with a shrug. “I am far older in spirit, Madame.”
I made him promise to come see me in a few days so I could see how the healing was progressing and give him more antibiotic if need be. He nodded, then stood and shrugged back into his coat (Lord, was he huge), and was just beginning to move toward the doorway, when—
“Are you well-treated here, M. Danton?” Why could I not keep my bloody mouth shut tonight??
“Why is it that you ask such a question of me, Madame?” Though I still could barely see his face through the hair, I could hear the wariness in his voice.
“You just seem…” I struggled to find the word in French, to express my concern without giving offense. “…..hunted.”
Yes, a beast at bay. That’s what I had discerned and yet been unable to name in those vague, distant glances across camp: the utter wrongness in the sight of a man so tall and strong keeping his head low, avoiding eye contact, as though cowering before an invisible blow. Then there was this slash to the arm…
He caught me looking at the bandage, so I summoned my courage enough to ask directly, “Is someone bothering you? Hurting you?”
“No.” He relaxed, and I saw his throat muscles working. “No, it truly was a rusted nail; an accident, entirely my own.” He inclined his head in acknowledgment of the first statement. “And my manners and ways are mine as well, Madame. Of my own choosing, I mean to say.Better, it is, that I keep to myself.”
There was nothing morose in the way he said it, nothing maudlin or self-pitying.
….but it still was so very sad.
“Nonetheless,”he added quite suddenly, one hand on the tent flap, “I thank you for having asked.” He gave a graceful bow and said in heavily-accented English before vanishing off into the night: “You ‘ave a kind ‘eart, Nurse Randall.”
Strange, yes. But not as bad as all that.
5 1 9
Ye touched me, today, mo nighean donn.
Spoke to me. Looked at me. Stopped my beating heart.
You were supposed to go off-duty at eight. I let that damned wound go untended all the day because I was waiting for when I kent you’d be away and abed. I couldn’t take the chance of it being you. God above knows I meant for us never once to come face-to-face in this camp.
More than a year since I ran up the hill after ye and the world went black; more than a year of trying to find my way in your world; of trying to find you; these last months of staying hidden in plain sight that ye never should see my face…. All undone by a rusted nail and your damned heedless self working at all hours instead of taking to your damned bed. And yet…. ye always did see fit to undermine my plans, my wife. Mo ghraidh.
….Lord, and you’re so young, Sorcha; so heartbreakingly young, and it makes me want to weep. And yet I weep still more to have witnessed with my own eyes and ears that you’re exactly the same. Even now, at three-and-twenty, you’ve the same fire that I myself have known in you, that same brilliance and compassion and—
Oh, God, Claire.
From a distance, keeping to my duties, I have been able to separate myself from it all; keep myself and my thoughts in check by mere will, knowing that it is my place only to watch over you, never in any circumstance to know you or seek you out. But so close to ye today, mo chridhe, SO CLOSE with you touching me, that deepest part of yourself reaching out to heal and care for me, even in disguise, even though ye dinna yet know me— It took all my strength not to take ye in my arms and crush you to my heart.
I long for you, mo nighean donn. I long for my wife; to hold ye again; to speak all my heart to ye. My truest friend.
And yet, beyond longing, there is that uttermost of terrors that fills me day and night.
I wait for this war to end—this war of unspeakable horrors, the like of which I could never have fathomed—and still I dread the sounding of that last all-clear. At least here, now (and for three years more, at the least) I have a place in your world. I can watch over ye, see your face each and every day, if only for a moment from afar, and be able to close my eyes at night only because I ken that you are safe.
But when the fighting has ceased, when ye leave France, I shall have to bid you yet another farewell….silently, this time, unseen….and hope that in April of 1948—
…Pray with all my soul that you and the bairn make it to April of 1948.
That you won’t be— That you haven’t already been—? or that you aren’t now—?
I wanna hear about the confession! It sounds like a cute story!!
ALRIGHT THEN HERE I GO FROM THE VERY BEGINNING BUT IT’LL BE LONG SO I APOLOGIZE FOR THAT
Let‘s go back in time, about 3 years ago, where I joined a new group of friends I don’t wanna name anyone and since I like distributing an animal to my close friends, let’s call them this
Pinguin <- pretty pale, used to look like he’s never gotten any warmth on his skin ever, the soon to be significant otter (at that time) Frog <- always jumping around, annoying but tolerable, Pinguin’s best friend Hamster <- my friend, cinnamon roll but can actually kill you, independent and badass as heck Panda <- actually a unsocial turd who spent most time eating and doing weird but lovable shit, the victim, me
there were actually two more dudes in the group (Koala & Fisch), but they don’t really contributed much to this weird love story HAHA
Anyway, like I said, I joined this group with Hamster when we changed schools together. I’ve pretty much only talked to Koala in the beginning, bc we used to go to the same elementary school, and I felt like the other douches weren’t much amused by the “newbies”. With time, Frog started to warm up to me and we were soon good friends. But Fish and Pinguin were always pretty quiet and barely said a thing to me. (Fish was kind of worse he only nodded, but never answered when I asked sth lol). So a year passed with me hardly knowing anything about Pinguin. In the next year, we got some classes where we were sitting pretty close together and we gradually came on better terms. But it was all just friendly chit chat and nothing more, except some group projects n’ other school stuff we worked together for. But there were already rumors amongst the others, saying that we were “so into eachother” n’ shit and I was like YEAH RIGHT I WOULDN’T DATE THAT IMMATURE MIDGET and Pinguin would be like shUT UP (btw he was about 6″ at that time and I was like 5,3″ LMAO) Even though I was only a year older than him, I definitely felt more mature (although I kept doing shit, like doodling piles and piles of poop with arms and legs everywhere while calling them Mr/Mrs Plop- do not judge me ok)
I honestly don’t know what the FRICK happened then (maybe puberty hit late), but there was a year where we HATED each other and I literally wanted to stab him every day I saw him bc he’s been so pissy and rude towards me. ANd I’m sure he wished nothing more than to throw me off the building sometimes. And of course, since I am the older one, I made the wise decision to annoy him even more. (looking back at it i still think that I was a dumb thing to do but it was hella funny ok)
Even the others where like YOOOOOO WTF CHILL U 2 and we both just continued fighting day after day lol
After this pretty everyone stopped making comments about our “love”, even after we both calmed down again and acted as if it never even happened HAHA
AND SUDDENLY PINGUIN STARTED TO BEHAVE REALLY DIFFERENT TOWARDS ME. He kept asking me to meet up with him and was rlly persistent about it. The abrupt change was kind of awkward af for me bc all we talked about before, was star wars, school and more star wars. XD So I always kind of avoided it and dodged his questions. I kind of assumed that he wanted me to be like his best friend so I was really confused and insecure lmao. That went on for quite a time, and I started to grumble about it almost every day. In April I got the possibility to enter an 1 week exchange programm to france, bc someone else bailed out and I joined. But guess who was also already taking part? Frog and friggin’ Pinguin. So of course i started to worry, that it could get awkward between us but in the end went the drive pretty well since another friend asked me to sit by her (faaaar away from Frog and Pinguin lol). On the 3rd or 4th day my mind was almost bursting so I couldn’t hold back and asked for the favor, if Frog couldn’t ask Pinguin if he actually had something for me when they are alone, bc i was way too scared to do it. Little did i know that Frog actually CANNOT KEEP A SINGLE SECRET TO HIMSELF. So he RAN to PINGUIN and YELLED REALLY LOUD the question if he has a crush on Panda aka me.
He got startled, looked at me, then back at Frog and said No.
I got really angry, embarrassed, ashamed and sad at the same time. Maybe because Frog did that, or maybe because of sth else.. We stopped talking much after that, and he started always being with another girl from the other school. As if that wasn’t the worst, on our drive home, I had to sit next to him bc everyone started switching seats. so ofc I was like -_____________- I swore to myself not to sleep but after 3h or so I started to nod off. I kind of woke up and found myself leaning my head against Pinguin’s shoulder and his head on top. I was like !!!!! and wanted to get up quick but he put a jacket over us both and he TOOK MY HAND UNDER THE JACKET. Now I was like ?????????? bOI. So I couldn’t bring myself to say anything nor get away from him. I had to admit, even if I didn’t want to, that I liked his warmth. So we stayed the whole 10h drive like that, basically cuddling. (I got kind of embarrassed writing this part omg)
After this trip we never mentioned it again and went back to our old antics. But I have never stopped thinking about it, no it just made me think even more and harder.
Winter, in the following year, Hamster started to get more aggressive, pushing me to ask me about all this stuff that happened. (she knew ofc lol) I always rejected this bc HOW WAS I EVEN SUPPOSED TO DO IT. In the end I gave in when she said, she would beat my whiny ass, and finally chose a day where we could meet up and “TALK”. It was on a November day, and we met up at a bus stop, where he picked me up. (He was at his dad’s place and I was unfamiliar with the village) He was being very cute, showing me his room, where he spent most of his childhood, and pictures of him. I couldn’t concentrate though. Ofc he asked me then what exactly I wanted to talk about.
I was SO ANXIOUS, I BARELY got any words out until I forced myself to ask, while throwing his pillows around x’D: SO UM- PLEASE ANSWER TRUTHFULLY. DO YOU OR DO YOU NOT HAVE A THING FOR ME?! (yes I legit asked like this lmfao).
He looked at me like this
And I was like ( ⚆ _ ⚆ )
then he answered WELL- and started talking about how he used to be in love with me but it has gotten “less” with the time. I got kind of disappointed when he said that. But we discussed about other things openly by then, and cleared everything up.I still asked him if he intended to enter a relationship with me. And he thought a bit and said: Maybe. But now’s not the time. Sooo no one actually really confessed but I think we both knew that this was the first stone set for our future together. We talked longer than I expected and he also said a lot of cute shit which made me hella shy and blablabla, I was a emotioal mess (*/ω＼*)
We started having dates for a while, and after we finished watching a movie at my place, it went:
“Can I ask you sth?”
“Ya sure, what’s up.” “Err if I kissed you now…would you kiss me back?” (HE LEGIT ASKED LIKE THIS)
Inside I was like ASDGGJLSIJIUDHIUHWUHIFIUFH)O but outside I was, again, like: ( ⚆ _ ⚆ ) umm-
SO HE DID IT AND WE TOTALLY MADE OUT I STILL CANNOT BELIEVE THIS OMFG
/realizes how much I already wrote
oh gosh and w-well we kind of continued doing this for a month after he asked me out officially in december. Also, he admitted that he was lying about loving me “less” at that time, bc he was anxious. He even said that he has been in love with me for more than 2 YEARS and I went W H A T but anyway, that’s how the Panda ended up with the annoying Pinguin.
And they all lived happily even after.
(also I realized soon after that he is not immature at all and has his life more together than I do btw /cries).
@goalie28girl ~Can you do a Jerome valeska imagine where the reader is Jim Gordon’s daughter and is really close friends w/ Bruce. Jerome gets jealous and idk fluff… maybe a little smutty?
Oh I like the idea😊 sorry it took so long, I’m breaking it up into parts because it was turning out to be a really long story! Hope you like it!!
“Honey, could you come here for a second?” Jim asked. I grabbed his coffee and came running up to his desk.
“Sorry, sorry I know I’m late.” I set down his coffee and brushed a stray piece of hair out of my face. I had been late to the police station nearly every day this week, I guess I just liked my sleep more than documenting papers.
“I don’t know Jim. I don’t think she’s cut out for the job.” Harvey argued. I shot him a glare, and he just smirked back in my direction and looked back down at Jim. “I mean come on Jim, look at her.”
Jim looked up at me. My brown hair was thrown up into a bun, and my shirt was untucked and wrinkled. “Thanks, Harvey.” I rolled my eyes, tucking my shirt in trying to smooth out the wrinkles.
“Hey, I’m just messing with ya kid.” He turned to walk away, patting me on the shoulder in the process.
“He’s right (y/n), you’ve been late every day this week.” He scolded, handing me a stack of papers. I walked over to my desk, that was right next to Jim’s. I set down the papers and files that he had handed me and they started to spill out all over my desk. I groaned, raking my fingers through my hair.
I picked up the coffee and walked back over to him. “But hey, I brought coffee.” I gave him a little smile setting the coffee down on his desk. He looked up at me, giving me a half-smile back.
“So what’s all that paperwork?” I asked walking back to my desk, picking up a file. I flipped through it until I found a picture, the guy was wearing a bright blue sparkly leotard, with his face painted like a clown. I stifled a laugh as my dad starting talking again.
“A fight broke out at the circus Lee and I attended last night. They told us to find a lady named Lila. Then when we went around searching for Lila we found her dead, chopped up and hidden under a carpet.” He finished glancing up to see my reaction.
“Wow. Sounds like you two had an eventful evening.” I laughed setting the file back down, crossing my arms over my chest. So that explained the clown get up. “So how’d you find the body?”
“Well, when we went to Lila’s trailer we found her son. She was a snake charmer so when we let her snake out it lead us right to her dead body.” He took a sip of the coffee I had given him. “Start filing the circus should be here any second, and we need to interrogate all of them.” He leaned back in his chair taking in a deep breath. I guess he just realized how much work had to be done.
I started to walk back to my desk but stopped when I heard a commotion coming from the entrance of the police station. A heard of circus people all still in their show getups came through the door. I laughed, turning back to my dad to see his widened eyes. “Good luck!”
“Yo, (y/n)!” Harvey yelled, hitting the side of my desk.
I shot up, suddenly jolted out of my sleep. I rubbed my eyes, I was still seated at my desk. “What time is it?” I asked, groggily.
“You still have five hours left.” I let my head fall back onto the desk, groaning in annoyance. “Here,” Harvey began, setting what seemed like a packet of papers on my head. “Jim needs these, ASAP.”
“Where is he?” I murmured, grabbing the papers, flipping through them.
“Interrogation room 2.” He answered then left.
“And why exactly can’t you give them to him?” I yelled across the station.
“Too busy!” He yelled back then pushed open the doors, leaving.
“Yea too busy my ass,” I rolled my eyes, pushing myself out of my desk.
I walked across the main floor, muttering hellos to the people that passed. “Hey, Ed.” I waved across the room, grabbing his attention.
“Oh, hello (y/n). You taking those somewhere?” He questioned, gesturing to the files I was holding.
“Oh these,” I shook the papers. “Yea my dad needs em.” I smiled.
“What is it that no man wants to have, but no man wants to lose?” Ed questioned smiling at me. He always had riddles for me, it was almost like a game we played with each other.
“Hmmm,” I sighed raking my brain for the answer. “A lawsuit.“
“Correct!” He responded, clearly impressed. “You never fail to amaze me (y/n). You’re the only one who can answer my riddles.”
“Well, I gotta get going, Ed. Dad needs these files.” I said, lifting the files I held heading toward the interrogation room.
I looked through the glass of the interrogation room. A red headed boy was sitting there, eyes red and puffy looking as if he was about to cry. Lee was standing in the corner, while my dad was sitting at the table, across from the red headed boy and an old man.
I pushed open the doors and walked in, earning the attention of everyone in the room. “Hey, I got the files that you wanted.” I handed him the files and stood back in the corner by Lee.
“Thanks,” He responded, turning his attention back on the pair.
The red-headed boy’s eyes were trained on me, analyzing my every move. He cracked a little smile in my direction. I smiled back, trying to encourage him. I can’t imagine what it’d be like to have your mother murdered and chopped into pieces.
“Jerome. I know you did it. Why’d you kill your mother?” Jim asked. I gasped looking at him wide eyed.
Jerome started laughing manically, causing the whole room to shake with the power. His eyes looked as if they’d darkened, a dark look crossing his face. It was as if he’d just snapped.
“Hey doll, what’s your name?” He asked purring. He leaned across the table and I stood there in disbelief. “Yes you, in the corner.”
I furrowed my eyebrows looking at him shocked. I back up into Lee. She held me in a comforting hug.
“Ah! You’re good ol’ Jimbo’s daughter. Eh?” He asked giddily.
Police soon started flooding the room, placing handcuffs on Jerome. The whole time he was laughing looking at me. Jim’s jaw was locked and his eyes were fixated on Jerome. He was standing in front of Lee and me so Jerome couldn’t see us.
“Don’t worry doll! I’ll get out, and when I do I’ll come back for you!” Jerome yelled as he was dragged down the hallway, pulling against the police. I shivered, looking down the hallway as he cackled maniacally.
“Don’t worry (y/n), it’ll be alright. He’s heading to Arkham and won’t be out for a long time.” Jim said encouragingly as he pulled me into his arms, crushing me in a tight hug.
I just nodded in return, unable to think of anything other than that laugh and smile.
—–(A couple months later)—–
“Hi Alfred, how are you?” I asked. I had just arrived at Wayne Manor. Bruce and I had been good friends ever since his parent’s death. He was always in and out of the precinct being asked questions about his mother and father’s death. I was always there, talking to him, eating with him, or sometimes just sitting there comforting him. I was a few years older than him but that made no difference we were as close as could be.
“Ah miss (L/n), what a delight.” Alfred greeted, slightly bowing.
“So what’s up? Anything new happening around here?” I smiled, as he invited me inside.
“Well, Master Wayne has decided to take an interest in fighting.” He explained as I nodded in response. He took my coat from me, setting it down on a chair. “Shall I call him down for you?”
“Yes, thank you, Alfred.”
As I waited for Bruce to come down I decided to explore the house a bit. I picked up a picture framed, dusting off the sides of it and setting it back down. It was a portrait of their family, everyone, happy and smiling. I smiled sadly, I can’t imagine how it would feel to lose both your parents and actually witness them dying together. Now on the other hand that Jerome boy murdered his mother, and yes she didn’t sound like the nicest lady but still it was terrible.
“(Y/n)?” Bruce asked from behind me.
“Hey, Bruce!” I walked over to him, giving him a hug. “How’s everything? Alfred told me you’re taking fighting lessons now?”
He nodded walking me over to the couch where we talked about everything that had been happening recently. I told him about my job at the police station and how I may be fired because I’d been late nearly every day this past week. He told me about this new girl he met, Selina, and how he didn’t know how to talk to her. Our talk was interrupted by my phone going off. It was my dad.
“(Y/n)!” He sounded frantic as he continued. “Where are you?”
I furrowed my eyebrows, “Wayne Manor, why?”
“You need to get home now.” He ordered. Bruce gave me a questioning look as he sat on the couch, I just shrugged in response. “Jerome escaped Arkham last night.”
I gasped, putting my hand over my mouth. “What?” I whispered in disbelief.
“Yes, come home now!” He finished, hanging up the phone.
“What’s wrong?” Bruce asked walking over to me.
“Dad wants me to go home, family emergency.” I lied walking up to him, hugging him. I grabbed my coat, waved goodbye to Alfred and hopped in my car.
Thanks many of you for the love you all give to my latest post. I was like wow when I see there are more than 200+ notes. My followers increased like a rocket 🚀 😂. many many thanks.
I got asked a lot of questions about how to free styling. To be honest, sorry I met Arab in a very random situation, I wasn’t free-styling so I’m not an expert to ask. Please prefer to those SB blogs who are free-styling for advice.
On the other hand, Arab went back from UK. He brought me a lot of jewelries but those are not my style because I prefer simple designed jewelries but it’s still money anyways. He texted me to get ready he will pick me up for breakfast. Okay daddy !!!! When I walked to his RR, the other girls sat under dorm’s porch looked at me like “gross you are having sex with an old man for money” but I give no shit. I even looked at them and smiled while he was closing the car door for me 😂
I spent last whole week with him. Someday we stayed at his place in Highland Parks, someday he drove us to Houston so he can checkup his company. I even helped him arrange his office based on my understanding of geomancy, organized his papers and fix his frozen wins 7 computer (unbelievable!!!) 😂 he was impressed but he kept forgetting I’m an engineering student fixing those are easy.
Last Saturday morning he told me my 2005 Honda looks so old now I need a new car. To be honest, I’m not a car person. I just need a vehicle to get me from point to point. I don’t have the idea of “I need to drive a fancy car because i’m a sugar baby”. Of course I’m expecting him to get me one if he said that, but how to sound not so much gold-digging? I told him “I will get a new car eventually, but only after I work and get my parents a new car first”. He knows and admires that I’m family-oriented so he looked at me in awe for few seconds, then later that afternoon
He took me to Audi showroom and got me an A4. strategy WIN !!! Now I’m driving a brand new Audi without even have to ask for one. He added me to his insurance and said I can drive his RR if he isn’t in TX. He said if I spend this whole summer with him I can keep the car forever so I’m not taking any summer classes 😂 I need a break from those cancer cells anyways.
We are going to NYC next week because he wants some new clothes from Thom Browne, and wants to see Broadway ( I’m not a big fan but okay). Guess I will see if his cards get blocked from my shopping hahahaha.
I got lucky because this man is obsessed with Asian women. I still havent got used to this 46-yrs-old man who throw money like trash but I’m not complaining 😂 ps: he trimmed his hair and beard because I complained it made him look much older. I found his action is kinda cute 😂
Anyways, thanks for your support/cheering/loving messages and comments. I will try to get on Tumblr more frequent. Feel free to ask me any random questions from sugar advice to photography to biomedical stuffs to engineering. I hope all SBs have been great with their sugar life ❤️ ❤️ ❤️