#gael is having a Time

[buglaur]

ms macmahon you would have been the most beautiful mob wife

[gael-garcia]

Gael García Bernal in the trailer for Holland (2025), dir. Mimi Cave

[fritzes]

I love gael

[mousemannation]

x

[northern-passage]

Hello! I was curious... Do the coins in TNP have designs, or are they completely smooth? :0

they do! the gold Adranian coins (which is what Clementine has) have the symbol of the king/king's house which is the swooping hawk that we'll see Duncan wearing later. that's basically the royal sigil of Adrania, and we'll see wardens, soldiers, and other high-ranking politicians or wealthy Adranian families wearing it throughout the game.

silver coins have a merchant ship on them, and bronze coins have the moon on one side, and the sun on the other side (to represent the Wolfmother's children, but to avoid directly printing the image of a god on money). Gael is different in that their gold coin actually has a whale on it, since whaling and fishing is their main source of income (versus Adrania, which in the south has decent farming and functions as a massive trade hub between/with Gael and Yulan). their silver coins have a wolf on one side, sun and moon on the other (same reason as Adranian's have it on their bronze) and then Gaelish bronze coins just have a silhouette of the southern mountain range and sea stacks.

Gael also has whale bone coins and Yulan has shell coins, but those don't get traded with Adrania. only the metal coins, and that's just because gold is gold; it doesn't change much of the value, it's only aesthetics, and the flow of coins between Gael, Adrania, and Yulan (Adrania's main international trade partner) is vital for all three countries.

[partybarty]

at least one 37 year old legend was able to take out an abuser in the first round of the french open....

[abirdie]

Gael García Bernal in Sin noticias de Dios (2001, dir. Agustín Díaz Yanes)

(Released in Mexico as Bendito Infierno and in English as either No News from God or Don't Tempt Me depending on where you were)

(these gifs also feature Penélope Cruz and Fanny Ardant)

Gifs are all 540px wide so you can click to see larger.

[other gael filmography gifsets]

[gaelsstuffiehome]

Why, I'm sure there are thousands of 40 year old men who are gently annoyed that they don't have anything Paddington related that they can bring to the movie this month. But I'm not one of them. Nope. No way. Not a chance.

[luffysfakebeard]

girl you’re so right

[paceysjcrewsweater]

The way these past few months have been super hectic at work and in personal life but I somehow managed to binge watch La Máquina in 2 days after its release🕴️

[gael-garcia]

no tengo un hombre ni a gael garcía me siento tan vacía🗣️

[sadlazzle]

waterfowl dance is starting to piss me off majorly now ngl. real sick of that bullshit move

[ahmedfamily1]

Ahmed’s family is talking to you from Gaza.

I am a father of two children. My wife, my children and I used to live in a modest house in the north of Gaza until the war began. My family have been forcibly displaced multiple times; we now live in a tent that lacks the basic necessities of life.

I have two children. The first is 3 years old and needs a lot of care; the second is only 1 year old. He was born on October 20, during the first days of the war. He has witnessed the bitterness of bombing, the bitterness of displacement, the bitterness of the heat, and the torment of war in the first days of his life.

Now the borders are closed and famine is pressing in on Gaza. I ask you to help me protect my children from the pain of hunger and thirst.

I'm trying to scrape together the $400 monthly rent, that's all I need each month for my kids.

@gothhabiba @virovac @fordarkmornings @gael-garcia

[paucubarsisimp]

Can you please do more something for Gavi where everyone is at a team barbecue for dinner at raphas and Keyne, miles, Gael, Anna and Laura etc. are all there playing together and Gavi basically has major baby fever the whole time!

baby fever

pairing: pablo gavi x reader

summary: in which pablo gets baby fever watching you play with his teammate's kids

warnings: none!

a/n: i couldn't stop myself from writing the little bonus part and i also have baby fever now...

the sun melts like honey across the grass.

it’s late afternoon, the kind of lazy golden hour that makes everything feel slow and a little unreal. the sky is blushed with heat, music drips soft and low from the speaker tucked near the pool, and the air smells like sunscreen, charcoal, and someone’s cologne carried in the breeze.

you’re stretched across a blanket under a wide tree, warm skin pressed against the earth, surrounded by chaos in miniature form.

gael is curled against your hip like a sleepy kitten, sticky fingers wrapped tight around your dress. miles is in your lap, chewing on something that might’ve once been a cracker, humming a nonsense tune while you stroke his hair. keyne is spinning in circles just beside you, dizzy and giggling, arms outstretched like he’s about to fly.

you can feel the sun on your collarbone. your drink is sweating in your hand. mikky, taia, and laura are lounging beside you, soft and content, the kind of calm that only comes when the kids are entertained and no one’s currently crying.

"you’ve got a fan," mikky murmurs, glancing over the rim of her sunglasses.

you hum, not really listening.

"no," taia adds, grinning, "you’ve got a worshipper."

you follow their gaze across the yard, past the grill and the long table full of empty plates and laughter, to where pablo is standing with his beer half-forgotten in one hand, head tilted, eyes soft and full and stuck on you.

he’s not even pretending to be subtle.

he’s standing there, shirt a little wrinkled, curls slightly damp from the pool, sun touching the line of his jaw—and he’s looking at you like you’re something holy. like you hung the stars, then bent down and kissed the tops of three toddlers’ heads just for fun.

your lips curve. “he’s staring.”

“he’s in love,” laura sings, low and amused.

“he’s having a full mental breakdown,” mikky whispers, watching him blink slowly, totally unaware of the teasing happening in real time.

from across the yard, ferran catches pablo’s expression and nearly chokes on his drink.

“hermano, breathe.”

lamine’s already laughing. “he’s thinking of baby names already”

“he’s gone,” frenkie says, clapping him on the shoulder. “like… wedding ring in the pocket gone.”

pablo doesn’t say anything. he just keeps watching you, arms full of sunlight and someone else’s baby, laughing softly at something keyne said that made no sense at all. the kind of laugh that makes your shoulders shake gently, that makes miles look up at you with wide, adoring eyes.

it’s stupid. and simple. and it knocks the wind right out of his lungs.

he comes over eventually, barefoot and flustered and acting like he just happened to be passing by, even though everyone knows he’s been waiting for an excuse to get closer.

he drops down onto the blanket beside you, all warm limbs and quiet awe, and lets miles climb instantly into his lap like it’s muscle memory.

“hi,” you say, soft and teasing, brushing a leaf out of his hair.

“hi,” he breathes back, eyes locked on yours. “you’re gonna kill me.”

you raise a brow. “because i’m covered in applesauce?”

“because you look like this,” he says, voice like warm velvet. “like you were made for it.”

your fingers curl gently around his. “for what?”

“this,” he whispers, eyes flicking down to where miles is dozing against his chest. “you. little ones. sunshine. soft days. i want it all with you.”

your throat catches. the kids are babbling again. someone starts the playlist over. and still—his words sit heavy and sweet in your stomach like honey.

“you’ve got baby fever,” you say softly, biting back a smile.

“no,” he murmurs. “i’ve got you fever.”

you blink. then laugh, head tipped back, the sound like wind chimes in the summer.

pablo leans in, lazy and golden and glowing, his mouth brushing the curve of your shoulder. “say the word and i’ll build you a nursery tomorrow.”

you hum. “what if i just want a nap and a snack?”

“that can be step one,” he grins, nuzzling into your neck.

miles shifts slightly in his arms. keyne plops down beside you with a dramatic sigh. gael’s small hand finds yours and curls around it, sticky and warm.

and suddenly, the world feels a little slower. a little softer.

you look at pablo—so full of something tender you don’t have a name for—and press your forehead to his.

“you’d be a good dad,” you whisper.

his lashes flutter. “say it again.”

“you’d be a really good dad, pablo.”

he smiles then—crooked and glowing, like you just gave him the moon.

and somewhere across the yard, fermin yells, “you two making babies over there or just planning it?”

you don’t even flinch. pablo just kisses your cheek.

and you—cradling sunshine and chaos and a boy who’s already halfway yours—just smile.

bonus:

the house is quiet now.

not silent—never that, not with three under-fives asleep (or almost asleep) somewhere in the vicinity—but quiet in the way that feels full. like something soft breathing under your skin.

the team barbecue faded hours ago. the sun dipped behind the trees, and slowly the backyard laughter gave way to yawns, half-finished desserts, and sleepy kisses goodbye. the others left one by one, until it was just you, pablo, and three very overstimulated toddlers crashing from their sugar highs.

somehow, you offered to stay the night and babysit. somehow, pablo said yes before you even finished the sentence.

now you’re both sitting on the living room floor—barefoot and pajama-soft—amid a nest of pillows and crumpled blankets, half-buried in baby wipes, storybooks, and a plastic sippy cup that no one can seem to locate.

miles is curled against pablo’s chest, thumb in his mouth, breathing slow and heavy. pablo’s shirt is slightly damp from a bottle incident, but he doesn’t seem to care. he’s swaying gently, back pressed against the couch, whispering something low and sweet in spanish that you can’t quite make out.

“you’re doing so well,” you murmur, kneeling beside him, brushing curls off his forehead.

he looks up at you, and god—his eyes are sleepy, golden, full of something so tender it makes your throat ache.

“he’s perfect,” pablo whispers, like it’s a secret. “they all are.”

you glance over. keyne is finally asleep in the playpen you dragged into the room, one sock off, a toy car clutched in his fist. gael is draped across the loveseat, one leg hanging dramatically over the armrest like a tiny exhausted king.

you sink onto the floor beside pablo, leaning your head on his shoulder. his arm shifts, settles around you without needing to think. miles stirs, sighs, settles.

“i don’t know how mikky and taia do this every night,” you whisper.

pablo hums. “they’re superheroes.”

you’re quiet for a beat. the lamp in the corner casts everything in gold. the air smells like lavender bubble bath and faint traces of barbecue smoke from the open kitchen window.

“you think we could do it?” you ask, almost too soft to hear.

he doesn’t even hesitate. “yes.”

your breath catches. “you didn’t even let me finish the question.”

“didn’t have to.” he turns slightly, careful not to wake miles. “you mean us. this. babies and bottles and falling asleep in the middle of the living room.”

you nod, throat tight.

“yeah,” he says again, quieter now. “i want that with you.”

his fingers find yours under the blanket. slow. warm. familiar.

“you sure?” you tease gently. “what if they all end up like keyne? he made me eat a leaf this morning.”

pablo grins, lazy and full of adoration. “then we’ll eat leaves together.”

you laugh, muffled into his shoulder. “you’re ridiculous.”

“i’m yours,” he corrects, lips brushing your temple.

and it’s true. in every sleepy, sticky, love-drenched way that counts—he is. completely. without question.

outside, the wind shifts through the trees. inside, the soft sounds of breathing, the warmth of pablo’s hand, the steady weight of miles tucked between you like he belongs there.

maybe he does. maybe someday, a few more little ones that do belong there. that are part of you both.

but for now—just this.

just pablo’s heartbeat under your cheek, the quiet hum of the night, the almost-whispered promise in the way he holds you close.

like he already knows.

taglist: @barcapix, @universefcb, @nngkay, @joaosnovia, @ilovebarcaaaa, @levidazai, @hollyf1,@mxryxmfooty, @halfwayhearted lmk if you want to be added!

[abirdie]

Gael García Bernal in Werewolf by Night / Werewolf by Night in Color (2022 / 2023, dir. Michael Giacchino)

(these gifs also feature Laura Donnelly and an out-of-focus Eugenie Bondurant, plus Carey Jones was in the on-set suit for Ted)

Gifs are all 540px wide so you can click to see larger.

[other gael filmography gifsets]