#or... whatever nicolas calls his house

[gavisuntiedboot]

Cherry on Top

Gavi X Physiotherapist! reader (birthday special!)

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: suggestive content!

A/N: I am back once again with more self indulgent fics for my baby boo thang's birthday !!!

~~~

"Doctoraaa! When are you coming home? I'm withering away from boredom and loneliness."

You could practically hear his pout through the phone, imagining him sprawled out on the couch with his feet in the air.

"Gaviraaa I am studying so that I can graduate on time! Or do you want me to keep making a student salary forever?" You held the phone between your ear and your shoulder, still furiously typing away at your sample notes for your advisor.

"What are you even studying? You basically run our whole club's rehab program by yourself. What else do they need to test you on?"

That was actually an excellent question. It was coming up on the two year anniversary since you had become a Barca employee, and you had almost fully taken the reigns. Dr. Gonzalez had checked out, waiting for you to get your degree so that he could finally retire. Nicolas was a good assistant, but was still heavily lacking in his ability to make quick decisions, so he was stuck doing basic PT most of the time. The show was essentially yours to run.

"This last year is testing my leadership ability and teaching skills. When I graduate, I will start running the intern program at the club, and so they have to make sure I can correct staff mistakes."

Your typing was getting progressively louder as you continued angrily editing the note in front of you.

"Take this idiot Aaron. He has not written a single coherent note since he got assigned as my mentoring project. If he were an employee he would have been fired weeks ago. But since this is a "training and learning" opportunity or whatever, I have to fix all his notes and send him the edits so he can learn."

You heard shifting on the other end of the line, and then a soft thud followed by some whispered profanity.

"Pablo please don't injure yourself."

"Maybe it will bring you home faster. Oh no my other ACL!"

Despite his giggle, you went quite on the other side of the line. The day of Pablo's injury had been one of the worst of your life. He had been playing for the national team, so you had no choice but to stare at your TV through glassy eyes, utterly and completely helpless. One of your friends literally had to prevent you from collapsing (though to this day you maintain that it was dehydration, not hysteria). He had called you from the sideline, and the pain in his voice just made you break further.

"I need you."

You had been waiting at the airport to receive him, official team gear on in an attempt to distract fans from the fact that you were fully embracing him and crying into his shoulder. You had almost gone insane in the lead up to his surgery, triple checking the credentials of everyone involved. You stayed by his bed for his entire stay, spending most days and night making sure he wore his brace and didn't make any stupid decisions. It was on one of these nights, when you were once again complaining about not having your favorite undereye cream at his house, that he once again asked you his favorite question.

"Why don't you just move in?"

As usual, you brushed the comment off. Gavi had been asking you to move in weekly for over a year now, always unfortunately dead serious. There was an innocence and simplicity in the way Pablo say the world that you wished you could emulate. He liked you, he was comfortable around you, and he wanted you to live with him. Simple, right?

But it terrified you. You loved Gavi, probably more than anything else in your life. But long withstanding trauma lives up to its name of being long withstanding. That feeling that the expiration date of your perfect relationship was approaching? That never went away. It was like the more time you spent with Gavi, the more you were terrified that he was going to figure out what was wrong with you, why no one could love you until this point in time, and run for the hills. Your apartment was the one space you still had to be irate and disgusting and genuinely yourself without being afraid of scaring him. And it would make it much easier when he eventually broke up with you to date a pop star or a model or Pedri.

"I'm being serious, princesa. You're here every night. You spend more time here than at your own place. You barely sleep in your own bed because you're just obsessed with me and want to take care of me all the time."

"Pablo, we've talked about this..."

"Yes," he said, sitting up and opening his arms in a gesture for you to come cuddle with him. "We have. Back when we had only been together for only three months and we didn't know if you would be able to put up with me."

"Hey!"

"Let me finish." He hugged you closer to his chest, resting his chin on your head and rubbing slow circles into your skin. It was hard to maintain your composure when you were like this, feeling the warmth radiating off his skin and the pressure of his lips kissing your crown every so often.

"We've been together for a year and a half now. I've seen you in bad moods, heard your yelling, plucked your chin hairs-"

He restrained you from getting up, giggling at your embarrassment. He really was the most adorable little thing on the planet.

"I've seen you at your lowest points. Which, admittedly mi amor, were not that low. I saw a tiktok of this guy who had to pull out his girlfriend's tampon. This could be much worse. Hey, look at me."

You turned over, your chest pressed to Pablo's as he brought his hands up to cup your cheeks. You had learned how to do this in the last year, how to steel yourself under his intense gaze. Pablo Gavi looked at you like he was in the presence of a divine being, eyes big and soft and filled to the brim with adoration. He looked at you like just your image was all he needed to keep breathing.

"I love you. So much that sometimes I don't know what to do with it. I want you to move in so I can take care of you, and so that it's easier to let you take care of me. I want to annoy you with my morning training alarm and make you coffee and maybe mess up your laundry when I try to do the washing."

"This is not a convincing argument so far, baby."

"I just want to live with you. And be around you. And hold you like a weighted teddy bear while I sleep."

"What if you get tired of me being around all the time?" You asked between smooshed cheeks, finally losing your ability to maintain his stare.

Gavi refused to even dignify the question with a verbal response, instead letting go of your face to lift the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it over your head. Your cheek was practically burning up pressed against his abs, still defined and solid despite days of immobility.

"Doctora, this is how close I want you to be. At all times. I am about to sew you to my torso. So will you please move in?"

And it was then that you agreed to it. Now the house was littered with so much merch on the walls and shelves it looked like a sports store, but it was yours. A home. You spent months taking care of Gavi, from driving him to appointments to at-home physiotherapy sessions. You took every opportunity to place a gentle kiss on the scar on his knee (ya know, when you were down there ;) ) and avoided all clips that showed him in pain.

"Come on, Doctora. I'm okay."

"I know, I know... it's just not a memory I can bring myself to joke about. Not while you're still in recovery."

"I'm sorry, amor. Can you come home and scold me about it?"

You groaned again, resisting the urge to slam your head into your keyboard. The progress notes were really terrible.

"And besides, you need to finish packing."

This was true. In about 6 hours, you and Gavi would be on a plane for his birthday trip to Ibiza. He had been buzzing with excitement about his birthday trip for months now, eager to take you someplace where there would be nothing to distract the two of you. Just perfect sand and perfect sea for a perfect weekend. He had talked about going farther than Spain this year, maybe Italy or at least Portugal, but injuries have a great way of canceling travel plans.

You reluctantly agreed, telling Pablo you would be home in about 30 minutes, before you began to tidy your workspace. You sent a polite yet pointed email to Aaron (with the head of department CC'ed) explaining that the work was too terrible to be corrected, and he should clear up some time in September to train with you before the season began in earnest and you would be too busy to teach him how to spell "bradycardia".

It was always a humbling experience to pull into the driveway and park your beat up little car next to Gavi's team-sponsored beauty. You were dreading the day he upgraded to something nicer - the neighbors would start thinking that someone was there to rob him. He was already standing at the door smiling wide when you pulled in. He walked up to your door, grabbing all your bags and ushering you inside away from the heat. This had become a regular for Gavi - tracking your location to greet you the second you arrived - so there was really no need to question it anymore. You leaned over and kissed his cheek, eternally grateful for the gentleness he showed you. After a quick yet heated rant about the incompetence of some of the students in your program, you headed upstairs to continue packing.

"Pablo, you think I need to pack more than two dresses?" You asked, looking over the satins and crocheted pieces that your friend ensured you was "totally in".

"I don't think you need to pack any dresses. Or even clothes for that matter."

You raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend, who was leaning casually against the doorframe.

"Am I supposed to be naked for the whole trip?"

"Not the whole trip. Just pack some bikinis for during the day and some cute underwear for the night. The outfit you wear to the airport should be more than enough incase we ever need to leave." He walked over to where you stood in contemplation, arms wrapping tightly around your waist, and his head resting on your shoulder in the perfect position to kiss your neck.

"Be serious, Pablo. What if we want to go for a nice dinner for your birthday? I can't go in a thong or in my plane sweats."

He didn't stop his attack on your neck for an instant, addicted to the warmth and taste of your skin on his tongue.

"Mi amor, mi sol, mi vida - at the risk of being vulgar, I have to say that you will be the nice dinner on my birthday."

Your eyes went wide at this statement, and suddenly you were glad for his arms there to keep you upright.

"I don't even think I have more than one bikini that still fits."

At this, Gavi released you, running to the closet with your yells to slow down behind him (if you had a euro for every time you told him not to run in socks, you could pay off the club's debt). He came shuffling back out with a large black bag, which he promptly dumped out onto the comforter. There were at least ten swimwear sets in various colors and prints, ranging from polka dots to stripes to... was that cheetah print?

"I picked these out the other day. Well, actually, that's a lie. I sent your size to Aurora, and she placed the order online and I just picked up the bag at the store. Can you imagine what Instagram would do with pictures of me buying lingerie?"

"But there's no lingerie here?"

"Fuck." He scampered off once again, returning with another bag to repeat his previous actions. This time the contents were much more sultry, with dark silks and satins staring back up at you. Mainly reds and blacks littered the pale covers.

"Pablo, you shouldn't have. This is too sweet! But we are only going for three days. There's like a month worth of stuff here."

"Are you planning on never going out again after this trip? Just pick your favorites for this weekend. The rest will be waiting for you when you get back, just in case we ever go to the pool or you want to surprise your football star boyfriend by wearing these to work."

You couldn't even be mad at his words when your heart was so full from his gesture. Pablo was always buying you things - that was nothing new. But you had been worrying for days about not looking good on this trip, not having anything new to wear, and he took that burden off your shoulders.

"So I can pick any of these? They look expensive."

"Ay Doctora, don't upset me. Nothing is worth more than your happiness. I do have one request though."

"Yes, mi amor?"

"You have to wear this one on my birthday," he said while reaching past you to pick up a white bikini with red cherries printed all over.

"Why is that?"

"Because you're like the cherry on top of my birthday cake. You always look good, but I want you to look irresistible."

"Okay, let's relax that's a lot of talk for a- oh my God." Your eyes widened, and you grabbed Pablo's face with a dropped jaw.

"Are you okay?"

"Oh my God."

"You said that already."

"Pablo!"

"Yes, princesa?"

"An adult. You're going to be an adult tomorrow. As in not a teenager."

"We arrive at like 11pm so it's more like I won't be a teenager anymore tonig- are you crying?"

"I'm not going to have a teenage boyfriend anymore!" You threw your arms around him, hugging him so tightly there was a fear of his ribs cracking.

"I feel like I should be offended by this statement."

~

"3...2...1... Happy 20th birthday Pablito!" You said softly, a single cupcake with a lit candle on the top held before the birthday boy. It was the same as the previous year (iykyk), but this time with a red and yellow swirl to match the Spanish national team.

"Thank you, mi vida." He closed his eyes, deep in thought regarding his wish, and blew out the candle. He scooped up a dollop of frosting, placing it on your lips before kissing it gently away.

"I can't believe I get to spend another birthday with you," he whispered out, scared that anything louder would destroy the gentle atmosphere around the two of you.

After sharing more sugary kisses, you fell asleep on Pablo's chest, soothed to sleep by his slow heart beat and rhythmic breathing. You woke before him, placing a kiss on his forehead before getting up to dress, snickering quietly at his snoring. The poor boy was so exhausted. You put on the swimsuit he had picked for you, the material fitting you stunningly. You looked at yourself in the mirror and couldn't help but smile. The white and red complemented your skin, your hair framing your face still bare and slightly puffed with the remnants of sleep. Gavi's necklace dangled between your collar bones, the metal cool on your skin. Everything on your body was an expression of love.

Stepping out of the bathroom in your bikini and wrap around skirt, you found the bed suspiciously empty. There was a light breeze coming from the terrace, where you found your boyfriend leaning shirtless on the railing. As if sensing your stare, he turned over his shoulder and wave you to join him. The sun was starting to shine in earnest, the smell of the ocean filling your senses. There was no place you would rather be.

"Good morning, beautiful. I know I asked you to wear that, but I almost want you to take it off. You look too good - I'm scared I'll have to beat every other man away with a stick."

He took a seat on one of the deck chairs, and you took your rightful place on his lap, arms around his neck.

"Good thing this strip of beach is private then."

Your lips found his in a deep kiss, fingers traveling to play with the short strands at the nape of his neck. It was an intoxicating thing to kiss Pablo Gavi. His plush lips molded perfectly to yours, bringing you in impossibly closer. He was always so eager, gently nibbling on your bottom lip whenever he could catch it, soft breaths and little whines spurring you on. Neither of you could bring yourselves to stop, tongues tangled like high schoolers as you made out in the early August sun. His hands were firm on your hips, more for his benefit than yours. He was eager to drag you to the sand, but knew neither of you would leave the room if he allowed your hips to act on their own accord. He relaxed back, allowing you to take the lead, and whimpered a little louder when you bit his lip. It was your giggling that broke the kiss, and you rested your forehead against his, breathless and chest heaving.

"Big Bad Gavi likes having his lip bit. Who would've thought?"

He whined again, finding the column of your neck and to town, nipping and sucking, unwilling to not have his lips and tongue occupied by you just yet. When you started digging into his biceps, he released you, admiring his handy work.

"Pablo people are going to see." You said, pout on your lips and big eyes trained on your boyfriend. He kissed your jutting bottom lip and lifted you off him.

"Like you said - good thing this beach is private."

~

Pablo had so many moments with you where he thought "she could never be more beautiful than this". The first was the first night you fell asleep on his couch, face peaceful with sleep. The next was under the stadium lights, as he thrust a trophy in your hands and lifted you above his shoulders. Then it was in some French hallway, in a ballgown with no heels as he kissed you senseless, finally brave enough to take what he wanted. In coffee shops and grocery store aisles and on his mattress, he always thought there was no possibility for you to be more stunning. But as you lay stretched out on the sand, eyes closed and muscles relaxed, he had the thought again. The sun tinted your skin slightly, making you gleam like a goddess that had just emerged from the sea. The bright white against your skin had Gavi tingling, wanting to remove the pure material and access what it was protecting.

Your hair was soaked, and you laid on your stomach in the sand to gain some color and dry off after the exertion of swimming with Gavi. The sun was phenomenal on your damp skin, and you had never been more at piece. You felt a hand creep up your back, and suddenly your chest wasn't as supported as it should have been.

"Pablo! Did you just undo my top?"

"I'm just unwrapping my present."

He brought you to sit on his lap once again, your loose top fighting to remain around your neck.

"How private is this beach?"

"You think I would let you go topless if there was a chance another soul would see?"

You felt like a teenager again, embarrassed and looking around frantically for someone who would catch you in such an act with your boyfriend.

"I heard beach sex sucks and I'm not eager to get sand in my vagina."

"We're not going to have sex on the beach. I may be more grown up, but I still like seeing boobs every once in a while."

"So you just want to look at them?"

"Among other things. You want to see my checklist?"

You wrapped your arms around his neck once again, kissing him deeply as he fully removed the fabric from your chest. He brought a hand to your back, pressing you against him, your breasts flush against his chest. It was a thrilling sensation, being topless and against your boyfriend with the sun beating down against you both.

Gavi laid back on the sound with you atop him, unclipping you hair to allow it to fall down your back. In your current situation, you were still covered enough to not face public indecency charges. He played with the strands of hair, weaving his fingers into the locks as his teeth caught your bottom lip and sucked on it like his favorite hard candy.

"I'm going to have sand in my hair."

"Guess we'll just have to take a bath together so I can wash it for you."

You kissed him again, his fingers trailing up your torso and brushing the sides of your boobs, sparking electricity in their path. It was so high school: topless on a beach, making out with your boyfriend. But made you stir low in your stomach, a mix of desire and the deepest form of love. You loved Pablo Gavi. You loved his little antics, you loved the pleasure he brought to every aspect of your life.

"Enjoying your birthday so far?" You asked, reluctantly pulling away from his lips, chest heaving against his. Gavi took the opportunity to grab your breasts and squeeze lightly, playing with them like it was his favorite activity in the world.

"More than I can even express."

He brought you against him, arms around you and bodied pressed together, and laid back down.

"So you just wanted to feel me up while we make out?"

"I want to feel you against me, mi amor. I want you to feel how hard my heart beats when I'm around you. I want to do everything that comes to my mind with you. Being topless on the beach. Ordering everything on the hotel menu. Skinny dipping at midnight. Every experience in my life is better when you're in it. I want to make every memory with you, so that when we're old and hold hands in our matching wheelchairs, I can say "Hey remember when we were hot and young and topless making out in Ibiza?" I want to do everything in the world with you."

You pressed your lips to his again, a deep kiss that winded the both of you.

"I love you, Pablo. Happy birthday."

"I love you more, Doctora."

~~~

Okay here it is!! Happy birthday to the love of my life, the light of my soul, Pablo Gavi. I love this boy more than I can express, and he represents so much good in my life. I hope his 20th year is filled with every happiness in the world.

As usual, please like, comment, reblog - all the good stuff. If you like this dynamic, I have a full 10 part series of these two idiots in my masterlist. I also have an ongoing Pedri series! Check that out if it's more your speed.

Please also take a moment to check out the links on my pinned post to help families in Palestine. If you don't have the money to donate but still want to help, every comment with a watermelon emoji under my pedri posts = $1 I donate on your behalf. I think that's all I have to say. Love y'all <3

xoxo, GUB

[biancasaidstfu]

I love when other anons or trolls whatever you want to call them want to bring out stuff from the past to prove that Nic and Luke are in these relationships, yet the don’t mention how Antonia was clearly in the Maldives looking happy and affectionate with her dance squad (including a male dancer) during NYE where it was obvious Luke was not there.

Then we also have Jake who also was spending NYE looking happy with his own friend group where it was obvious Nicola was not there despite them being in her house.

So please can they explain why if these two are dating these other people why they were not with them for NYE? If Luke was with this girl, why didn’t he go support her during her big performance in a tropical place when he’s off for the holidays… yet according to the other anons he has nothing better else to do in London but sit and wait for her outside the dance studio.

Come on now.

Look we need to get through today without any pics before we can say this for sure because other anons kindly let me know the pics were coming on Tuesday.

These two are doing the most right now for no reason so everybody remain vigilant.

[nicola-fiore]

A selection of the daily letters (sent but undelivered) to Gio Fiore:

26 August 2017

Dear Gio, I'm writing you this letter because even as summer's ended, my father has yet to give me back my phone and laptop. So I hope that, somehow, this gets to you. Papa, Enzo and I are back in Milan. It's only an hour's drive away from Laglio, but it felt like it went on forever. The whole ride over, I couldn't stop thinking about you, and why you didn't show. You promised last night you'd come see me off but there was no sign of you at all. No call, no text, not even a note. Have I said something last night that's offended you? Or maybe done something to push you away? Whatever it is, please tell me, so I can make things right. I miss you so much already, but love you even more. I hope to hear from you soon. Yours always, Nicola xo

01 September 2017

My dearest Gio, It's been a week since I've seen or heard from you, and every day, I miss you more and more. It's another few days until school starts, but my father's announced at dinner tonight that we'll be moving all the way to the other end of the country — far, far away from you, to his hometown in Palermo, Sicily. At first I didn't understand why he would be pulling me out of school my senior year, but eventually, he came clean. It's to protect the baby, he said. But I don't know if I can fully believe him. Something in me feels like it might have more to do with not letting anyone in Milan know that his teenage daughter is with child. I wish you were here. More than anything. Love always, Nicola xo

08 September 2017

Tesoro mio, Palermo is beautiful, not unlike Laglio. It's sunny here most of the time, and I spend my days taking walks. My doctor here said it's good for both me and the baby. But I get tired often. That's to be expected, she said and I just nod along. I don't tell her that I don't really sleep well at night. I'd hate for it to somehow reach my father's ears. Everyone here knows everybody. But it's okay, I don't really mind the walks. I don't know anyone else here so walking passes the time. I've attached our address at the back of this letter, in case you can come and visit. I hope you do. I miss you terribly. Until then, Nicola xo

15 September 2017

My darling Gio, I had an ultrasound appointment this morning. Our baby's heartbeat is getting stronger with each visit. I wish I could somehow send you a snippet of it but I've no way to send it to you. My father has given me back my laptop, for school, but there's no internet in the house. We should appreciate nature more, he said. As if me taking my daily walks isn't enough. Still, I'll keep the audio file for when I can send you things online again. Thinking about you Nicola xo

03 October 2017

Cuore mio, This letter's a little bulkier than usual. I found this cute birthday card the other day and thought you might find it funny. I've also attached a photo of me and baby. As you can see, my bump's more noticeable now. I hope you're celebrating your special day as wonderfully as we had planned it should be. I'm sorry I'm not there to personally wish you a happy birthday. But please know that I'm thinking of you always. Happy birthday, my love. May you have many, many more to come. Love you forever, Nicola xo

16 October 2017

My love! We're having a boy! I just got back from another ultrasound check and was told that we're having a boy! I've included a snapshot of him in the envelope. It's a little hard to see but I promise, it's there! Haha! I know it's late but perhaps this can serve as my late birthday present. :) Wish you were here, Nicola xo

28 November 2017

Dear Gio, Felt our son kick for the very first time just now, and the first thing I thought of was to tell you so you could feel it, too. That is, until I remembered that you're not here. Oh well, at least you'll know when this gets to you. Better late than never, I guess. Goodnight for now, Nicola xo

25 December 2017

Dearest darling, I hope you're keeping warm there in Laglio. When my mother was still alive, she used to tell me of how the winters there can get quite cold. So, please don't forget to wear your jacket. And gloves. And a hat! I'd hate for you to ever get sick, especially during the holidays. I wish we were spending Christmas together but hearing from you would be more than enough for me. Either way, I wish you and your family a very happy holiday season. And I hope you receive everything you've wished for. Merry Christmas, amore mio. I love you. Forever yours, Nicola xo

27 December 2017

Love of my life, I hope that by the time this reaches you, it'd be New Year's Eve, so that in a way, I'm there with you when the new year rolls around. As the year slowly comes to a close, I find myself torn. Saying goodbye to this year feels like bidding you — and our memory together — a final farewell. But as much as it pains me that we won't be starting 2018 like we wanted to, in three months' time, our son will be here. And I can only pray that you will be with us by then, too. Please never forget how much I love you. Until my last breath, I am forever yours. Your Nicola xo

[giovanni-fiore]

The house was quiet, save for the occasional creak of the old wooden floors and the soft rustling of leaves outside. Giovanni sat in the dimly lit parlor, a glass of scotch in hand, the amber liquid catching the faint glow of the single lamp he had left on. Antonio and Nicola had gone to bed hours ago, but sleep felt like a distant concept to him tonight.

He stared at the untouched book on the side table, its pages closed as if mocking his inability to focus. The weight of the past had wrapped itself around his thoughts, pulling him deeper into memories he usually tried to avoid.

The scotch burned as it slid down his throat, but he welcomed the distraction. It didn’t last long. His mind drifted to Giovanni Jr., as it always did when the night grew still and his defenses were at their weakest. He could still hear Nicola’s laughter when they first talked about baby names, the way her hand would rest instinctively on her belly. They were too young, too reckless, but their love had felt indestructible. Until it wasn’t.

Her father had seen to that.

The memory of that confrontation was burned into Giovanni’s mind. The man’s voice had been cold, his threats sharper than any knife. You’ll leave her. Leave this country. Or you’ll regret the consequences.  Giovanni had believed him. He didn’t doubt for a second that the man would follow through, and the thought of anything happening to his unsuspecting parents and siblings had been enough to drive him out of Italy. He hadn’t even been able to say goodbye.

Nicola’s tears haunted him for years. She thought he’d abandoned her. How could she not? He had disappeared without a word, just like her father demanded. He carried the guilt like a second skin, but it was nothing compared to the pain of losing his son.

Now, Giovanni couldn’t shake the questions that had begun to surface — questions he hadn’t allowed himself to consider for years. What if Giovanni Jr. wasn’t gone? It was a dangerous thread to pull on, but the doubt was insidious, spreading through his mind until it was all he could think about.

Giovanni reached for his phone, staring at the contact information for an own private investigator he’d been researching for weeks. He desperately wanted to call but controlled himself for the sake of his wife. She wanted to start with her father, to believe that the man who had wronged them so deeply could somehow help.

But Giovanni didn’t share her faith.

His hands clenched into fists on the table, the weight of it all pressing down on him. He had failed once — failed to protect Nicola, failed to protect their son. How could he take that chance again?

The door creaked open behind him, and he turned to see Nicola standing there, Antonio still nestled in her arms. Her eyes softened as she looked at him, but there was a trace of worry there too.

“You’re still up?” she asked softly, stepping into the parlor.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Giovanni admitted, his voice hoarse.

Nicola sat beside him, the baby stirring faintly before settling again. “You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”

Giovanni nodded, unable to lie to her.

“We’ll find the truth,” Nicola said firmly. “I know it’s not easy, but we’ll figure it out. Together.”

Her words were a balm, but the doubt lingered. Could they really trust the man who had caused them so much pain? Giovanni didn’t know. But as he looked at Nicola and Antonio, he realized he would do whatever it took to bring their family some closure — even if it meant revisiting the darkest parts of his past.

[whoisneo404]

Hey when you get some free time i would love another part of Proud of you, buddy if you are feeling up to it

Proud of you, buddy. Part 3.

Summary: introduce Jackson to your family.

Tw: cursing?

‘’You told your brothers?!?’’ Jackson is standing on the front door; I nod and he starts to panic. ‘’Oh shit, I’m about to meet them and they know we kissed.’’

‘’They don’t know that; they know you are my boyfriend.’’ He lets out a sigh.

‘’This is fine, I’m fine, I’m cool. I’m a cool guy…’’

‘’Yes, you are.’’ I grab his hand and pull him inside the house. ‘’I’ll call them.’’

‘’WAIT. Give me a second.’’ He rests his head on my shoulder and let’s out a sigh. ‘’Okay, I can do this. I’m so cool and collected, I’m not nervous at all.’’ I laugh at this and kiss his cheek.

‘’Nick! Matt! Chris!’’ they are in the kitchen, wrapping mom’s gifts, talking about mom, she is outside shopping with dad for the dinner, so it’s just us for a bit. I see my brothers entering the living room with a serious face, Chris has his arms crossed over his chest, oh god, this will be funny.

‘’I see, you are the young man that stole my brothers’ heart.’’ Chris talks. ‘’I’m Christopher, sit down.’’ Jackson sits down on the couch immediately.

‘’Jackson, nice to meet you… sir?’’ Chris almost breaks up laughing, I can see it in his face.

‘’Yeah, that sounds right.’’

‘’He is Matthew and he is Nicolas.’’ They nod along as Chris introduces them.

‘’And just so you know, we played lacrosse and hockey when we were in high school so we can pretty much beat you ass.’’ Jackson gulps and nods, Matt was serious, that was not part of the joke.

‘’So…’’ I clap my hands, now that we all know each other, we can go back to what we were doing.’’ I practically shove the 3 of them into the kitchen. ‘’What is wrong with you?? Christopher, Matthew and Nicolas, are you serious? He is scared.’’

Matt smiles and nods. ‘’yeah, that’s the point.’’

‘’Too much point Matt.’’

‘’Whatever.’’ He mutters.

‘’It was not my idea.’’ Nick says raising his hands. ‘’I just played along.’’

‘’Whatever, we will be on the living room.’’ I turn around and start walking out of the kitchen.

‘’Cool, and just so you know we can see you from here, no smoochies or kisses and remember to leave room for Trevor.’’ Chris says laughing.

‘’I’m so sorry, they are not like that, they were just traying to scare you.’’ I sit down besides him.

‘’And they did an amazing job. Jesus, I was shitting my pants.’’ He laughs and hugs me. ‘’Do you think they’ll like me?’’

‘’Nick does, he was just playing along, Chris will eventually and Matt… well, it’s a bit hard to get on his good side, but once you get there, he’ll be the nicest person ever.’’ I smile warmly at him and wrap my arms around him.

---

It passed like 2 hours when I hear the car park outside the house, I jump up from Jacksons arms and pause the movie.

‘’I’m gonna help them with the bags.’’ I whisper to him.

‘’Okay, me too.’’ He stands up and I open the door.

‘’Hi honey.’’ Mom looks at me with bags on her arms. ‘’Oh god, hi Jackson, I thought you were coming for the dinner.’’ Mom gives him a quick hug.

‘’Well, I wanted to spend the day with my friend here. Hope it’s not a problem.’’ He smiles shyly at her. It sounds weird for him to call me that.

‘’Of course, not sweetheart.’’ Matt comes out of the kitchen helping mom with her bags and purse, while telling her about the blue macaw and why is no longer in danger, I see Nick and Chris snacking away with her gifts wrapped up behind Matt. They are so dumb…

‘’Hi Jackson.’’ Dad enter the house and gives me a pat on the back. Jackson smiles and greets him. ‘’Hey kiddo, help me with the other bags.’’ I nod and walk to the car with Jackson.

‘’Okay, I’m more nervous now.’’

‘’It’s okay, my parents are very chill about this.’’

‘’I know. I know. Its just… they’ll see me differently; I’m scared that they won’t think I’m good enough for you.’’ He grabs two bags, and looks at me.

‘’That won’t happen, ever. They don’t think that and they will not think that.’’ I grab the last bag and kiss his cheek. He nods and starts walking inside the house, I close the car door and walk inside too.

----

We are preparing the dinner. Chris, Matt, Dad and Jackson are outside preparing the barbecue, Nick, mom and I were inside the preparing the salad and rice, I look over and Nick and then at the door, he nods and leaves the kitchen.

‘’Hey, mom.’’ I go beside her in the sink.

‘’Yes, honey.’’

‘’Do you think I’m too young to be in love…?’’

‘’Oh no, I don’t think there is an age restriction to fall in love sweety, why? You like someone?’’ I let out a sigh.

‘’Yeah, I really do. And I’m kind of like… dating that person.’’ Mom gasps and turns around.

‘’Really? That’s amazing.’’ She smiles at me and hugs me.

‘’Yeah, the thing is… that person is Jackson.’’

‘’WHAT?!’’ she smiles widely and hugs me tighter. ‘’Your dad owes me money.’’

‘’What?’’

‘’Yeah, I told him you guys would date eventually, he told me you liked girls. Guess the mother instinct never fails.’’ She smiles warmly at me. ‘’thank you for telling me sweetheart. When are you planning to tell dad?’’

‘’How do you know I haven’t told him yet?’’

‘’I know you too well.’’ She messes my hair and I smile at her.

‘’You do.’’ I kiss her cheek and go outside. My brothers sitting on the grass fighting with each other as Nick tries to decorate the garden. ‘’Hey dad.’’ I get closer to the barbecue; Jackson is there helping him. ‘’you know how Jackson and I are like… really close and stuff.’’ Dad nods, Jackson looks at me with wide eyes. ‘’Well, he’s kind of my boyfriend.’’ I smile and hide my hands behind my back. Dad look at me with a surprised face.

‘’Oh, don’t tell me that… shit, I owe your mother money.’’

‘’I know.’’ He smiles at me and pats my back.

‘’That’s good kid, he’s a great guy.’’ He then looks at Jackson. ‘’You know, those 3 crazy guys over there used to play hockey and lacrosse, so be careful.’’

‘’THAT’S WHAT WE TOLD HIM!’’ Matt said from the other side of the garden.

‘’That’s what YOU told him.’’ Nick rolls his eyes at them.

[badbirep]

okay i couldn't wait and started reading the little family info dump before i finished my own research and lol i was missing a brother sorry archibald!!!!! for anyone interested in the little family, plz plz go look at the cold boys research central :D

i can't overstate how happy i am to be reading this, it's like getting a present! not only i feel self satisfied bc all things considered i did a pretty good job :) but i get more info!!!! like ohhhhhh that's where the children's names come from! also it took me until today that literally THREE of edward's relatives are called "cornelius hater" this is hilarious. I also didn't find the James C fleeing on horseback element in my own research and frankly? truly a mad lad this one

a couple things that i found interesting in my own search, but full disclaimer i didn't crosscheck this stuff nearly enough, so there's always the risk that it's just someone of the same name and similar enough location/dates.

The UK Poll Books and Electoral Register for 1834 lists Simon Little as owner of Fleetland Farm and a Mr. Edwards as his tenant, if i understood properly!

now the whole reason why i looked into this is blantantly to imagine more of my blorbo's life so here's stuff that made me go :'o

Edward starts as an officer on the HMS Donegal, in 1837. He's 26 yo! and his younger siblings are 22 (Charlotte), 20 (Archibald), 18 (Richard), 15 (Ridley) and just 13 for Janet! Jane Elizabeth, the eldest, is 35 for comparison.

So in the 1841 census, listed as living in the same house are both parents, Jane Elizabeth, Sarah Magdalen, Margaret Anne, Charlotte and Louisa. Like the info dump points out, none of sons are listed as living with them. What were they doing at the time?

Eldest son James Cornelius enlisted on the HMS Asia in 1828 (at 21), but by 1841 he's on the HMS Beacon as Paymaster just like dad. He also signed up for the freemasons in 1943 in malta! Very exotic

i didn't look up archibald bc i didn't know he existed at the time!

Couldn't find anything on Cornelius Hayter, Edward's closest in age brother, except birth and death dates unfortunately, and he's listed as living on Ker Street in Devonport, (same place as his family in 1941) on his burial record the very next year :(

His death was listed in april may or june of 1842 (i did find his burial records but i can't read the month listed as his death :/).

That's during Edwards' time as a lieutenant on the Vindictive (1 year 6 month and 1 day!). I found (with difficulty like damn) the following info on whatever the fuck the vindictive was up to during this time :

"[NICOLAS, JOHN TOUP (1788–1851) commanded] the Vindictive, on the East India station, from 1841 to 1844, returning to England by Tahiti, where he was sent to protect English interests during the arbitrary proceedings of the French (Ann. Reg. pt. i. p. 256)."

However Edward, who finished his posting on the Vindictive on the 20th of oct 1843, might have not seen tahiti!

[nevermind all that about the vindictive, i found a very thorough source thanks to the cold boys research center HOWEVER edward isn't nominatively mentioned as one of her officers so maybe i got his posting wrong?]

Richard John Strachan, his first little brother, is listed as living in the St Helier District General Hospital and Workhouse in the 1851 census when he's 31 yo. His family lives in the same town, so that means that he was ill enough to stay at the hospital full time.

He's listed as a "boarder" and his profession as "annuitant", which is understand as meaning that he recieves money each year, and which is the same thing several of his unmarried sisters are listed as in censuses. on that same page of the hospital census, several people are listed either as "pauper lunatic" and "pauper idiot" (compared to his "boarder") which makes think he was a long term (pure speculation) resident, but for a physical illness? i should look at the 1861 St Hélier Hospital census to see if he's still listed as a resident there, and if i don't find him, try to find his burial because i never found any death info for him, nor a naval career of any sort. mystery!

and lastly, the babiest brother Simon Ridley was a 2nd lieutenant in the royal navy but posted at the Plymouth Headquarters in 1841.

another thing of interest is that out of his 6 sisters (six!!!!), only 2 married :o

As the info dump details, Margaret Ann married a commander who later made captain. she's listed as 28 on her marriage certificate but she was actually 34 lol

and the babiest sister Janet married a commander also, at the respectable age of 51 and the guy got promoted up to vice admiral :o in 1881 when they were living with his adult son from a previous marriage, they had both a cook and housemaid! when she died at 85 yo, she left part of her effects to Alice Maud, her spinster niece (one of margaret's daughters!)

both married sisters had navy husbands, and it made me wonder how they met, like was margaret's husband serving with her older brother? or they were introduced at a navy function while her baby brother was trying to get a good commission? very jane austen

anyway thank you to the person who compiled all this neat info on the little family AND thank you to tumblr user noughticalcrossings who replied to my post with the cold boys research center!!!

[danieyells]

Hello there! Not an anon that you know, but someone with something to share or ask.

After seeing some things about Yuri from Tokyo debunker, a part of me can’t stop but think about one quote from Princess Caroline:

“You just want a ‘Mommy’ you can slide your d*** in and out of!”

I don’t know why this keeps popping up in my head every time I see Yuri and the mama situation. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. I am a bit concerned about the story in that dorm specifically. 😅

Hello new anon! o/

OH BOY I LOVE EXPLAINING THINS lmao /sincere) So to be extremely fair. The degree to which the mommy thing is gonna happen is entirely unknown lol SO FAR IT'S HAPPENED TWICE AND NEITHER WAS REALLY IN THE STORY ITSELF. We're just having fun goofing, Yuri's main notable trait is largely "haughty doctor performs questionable experiments on dubiously willing participants". We're just having a little fun with the mama thing. U: It's 98% fanon.

The canon bit we're playing off of is that he accidentally almost calls the player 'mama' once in a non-story line of dialogue at high enough affection, and says goodbye to 'mama'(the pc is the only one present but it isn't necessarily directed at them so much as his real mother) in a pre-prologue part of the game that's implied to be the end of the game, and you only get this line of dialogue if you choose him(which gives you his SR for you to start the game with.)" WE REALLY DON'T EVEN KNOW WHY HE SAYS IT. HE'S BEEN IN THE MAIN STORY LIKE ONCE SO FAR AND IT DOESN'T HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH ANYTHING WE'VE EXPERIENCED OF HIM SO FAR.

As for a mommy he can put his dick in. . .well, we don't kinkshame here :3c and I mean if his actual mommy isn't available he can make find a new one! No problems with that!! But that is an accurate statement for the mama thing, anon lmaooooo

I think Mortkranken's chapter will probably be a bit more focused on the pc's curse and learning about curses and anomalous illnesses. Maybe some views into Jiro's history and whether or not Zenji turns out to be his brother, and maybe learning a little about The Clash. . .and obviously we might hear a little about Yuri's history at some point, since I imagine he's going to be unhappy about the progress that isn't being made on the PC's curse and he hates/is afraid to have his patients die I think. The 'mama' thing is definitely going to come up, I think. That or it's gonna be a long time before we learn what's going on there lmao.

However we haven't seen the story of Mortkranken's dorm at all yet, so we don't know the story there either haha. Assuming we don't get a break between Obscuary and Mortkranken, we'll see the Mortkranken chapter July 25th?

I can try and go over what little we do know about Mortkranken though!

Mortkranken is essentially the medical house in Darkwick. Everyone there studies and works in varying kinds of medical specialties, particularly anomalous medicine. (If you don't know at all, "anomalies" are anything considered outside the realm of common sense--so anything from ghosts to curses to demons to monsters and whatever else. Anomalous medicine focuses on the healing of illnesses caused by anomalies or using anomalous sources for medical purposes, as far as we can tell.)

Mortkranken's dorm advisor is professor Nicolas! He makes many of the medicines used on campus and available in the campus store himself. He makes all manner of remedies(including a dry skin remedy that Romeo uses.) According to Professor Hyde, he's great with a mortar and pestle, but terrible in a fight. Romeo(a greedy, perfectionist mafioso who's obsessed with his own apperance) calls him a "smiley old prude." He's been very nice so far!

The Dorm Captain of Mortkranken is Doctor Yuri Isami! Yes, the guy we gave a mommy kink.

So far what we know about Yuri for certain is that people find him pretty terrifying because he frequently experiments on anomalies and anyone he can get into his lab, especially other ghouls. He's excited by the ghouls being injured on missions. He loves classical music and constantly hums and sings loudly to whatever he's listening to. He's extremely self-assured and demands respect. He hates Frostheim(the dorm largely full of rich, powerful, influential people.) He attends all of his classes despite his self proclaimed genius. He claims he's the only legitimate doctor on campus, and thus that the health checks he and Jiro have to run on students are not worth his time when he should be doing more important things(but he does them anyway.) His sense of direction may be questionable? He frequently pulls all-nighters and sleeps on his operating table. He personally administers the treatments Jiro needs every day and stitches Jiro up himself. He's the only one who knows how to administer Jiro's treatments, so Jiro has to protect him on missions. He is terrible in a fight, so Jiro fights for him. His artifact appears to be a giant needle. His patients always keep their lives, although he can't promise nothing else about them won't be changed or lost.

Speculation: something happened to his mother, or she's in critical condition, and he somehow relates this to the player character, hence slipping up and calling her 'mama'.

Jiro Kirisaki is the Vice Captain of Mortkranken! If you follow me you may have seen the Jiro dub/noncon and force impregnation posts. . .not in character, just fun.

What we know for certain: was in an extended coma and thus no longer eats solids. His body is constantly in delicate condition and Yuri uses him as a test subject and bodyguard. He'll die without Yuri and needs four treatments from Yuri a day. He has wounds on his stomach that are stitched closed and occasionally bleed if a stitch breaks. He doesn't remember why he started studying anomalous medicine, just that he realized he had a knack for it and kept going one day. He likes reading medical journals. He makes confectionaries now and then because he finds the process of following exact measurements and recipes similar to making medicine. He didn't have attachment to food, clothing, or shelter as a child and he doesn't think much of them now either. Working with Yuri in Mortkranken is the only work environment he's ever been in so it hadn't occurred to him that staying up for multiple nights in a row for work was abnormal. He doesn't have the best understanding of normal social customs. He doesn't remember what having a family is like. He's extremely intelligent and humble. His artifact is a chainsaw, but it's shit at cutting stuff.

Speculation: Zenji Kotodama(a ghoul from the house of Hotarubi who died during The Clash but lingers as a ghost unaware to most) might be his brother.

All in all we don't know a ton about them at the moment besides what we've gleaned from the non-story things available to us atm. 99% of what you've seen has been fanon inspired by something unexpected lol sorry if it's been confusing for you!

[decadentpandawasteland]

Hi, here is the next part of my Revenge Series. Please feel free to leave any and all feedback, and as always, thanks for reading :)

---------------------------------------------------

Everything was dark. Everything hurt. It felt like he'd been run over by a caravan.

“What… what happened?” Nicolas thought to himself. He opened his eyes only to be met with the exact same darkness as when they were closed. He could tell he was on a bed. Nicolas moved his arms and legs. They weren't shackled, but they hurt a lot. The last thing he remembered was, what? Arguing with Master Quin. Following that pull that took him…

Nicolas shot up in bed. Every muscle in his body tensed, and he immediately regretted the sudden motion. Ragnar. The chalice. The pulses. Suddenly a ring of light appeared around him, rushing out on all sides of him. It created a wave of light, giving him a few precious seconds to take in his surroundings. He was in an old section of whatever place the pull had taken him to, maybe a dungeon that had been converted into living quarters?

Nicolas tried to send out another pulse of light. It came and went more quickly than the last one. He tried again and again, each time slowly getting pieces of the puzzle together. A thought occurred to him. The ring of light always came out through his torso, spreading outward in all directions. Instead of pushing it through, he tried to hold the light in place. To his utter astonishment, it had worked.

“Good…” an ominous voice called in his mind. It was deep and gravely, like how a mountain would sound if it could speak. It was an alien thought.

“Who are you?” Nicolas asked out loud. His voice was so harsh it almost didn't sound human. The voice gave no reply. The only door in the room opened, someone drawn to the noise.

A man entered the room. He was dressed in crimson robes with a long hat that almost caught the on the door frame. There was a familiar crest on his robes. A black dragon with a person in one claw and grains of wheat in the other. The Brood.

“Finally, you've awoken,” the man said through red stained lips. Ragnar.

“What did you do to me?” Nicolas asked. He remembered pieces of it, but couldn't put them together. It was as if the memories themselves had been cut and mixed together.

“Me? I did nothing to you child. You chose of your own volition to partake in the drinking of the holy relic. A gift for us mortals by our Great One,” Ragnar said simply.

“And what exactly was this holy relic?” Nicolas asked, frustration in his voice. It reminded him of Master Quin. Always beating around the bush. Always hedging or even just flat out ignoring him. He wanted the power to make them listen. No, he needed it.

Power. That's right. That's what he had been searching for.

“Child, it is a gift for us. From hi-” Ragnar was cut off. The light encircling Nicolas shot outward, passing through Ragnar. Suddenly, Nicolas could feel it. A feeling that he had only felt within himself before, but thanks to his study of astral magic he knew exactly what this was, Ragnar's soul.

“The soul is like water. It takes the shape of whatever vessel it is housed in. The concentration of where the soul mostly resides will tell you your magic affinity. In theory, if the soul takes on a human form, pieces may be torn from the whole…” Nicolas remembered from his studies.

“So you're going to do this too?” He asked, suddenly seething. “You're all the same, thinking only about yourselves, never daning to teach, just barking orders and expecting me to follow. No. Not anymore,” he said, lifting his arm up, palm towards Ragnar.

“Do it. Strike back against those who hold you back. They are afraid of you. They will stop at nothing to keep you from your goal,” the Voice said. It was stoking the flames of violence.

“I'll make them all listen,” he thought. He closed his hand into a tight fist. He could feel it now, Ragnar's soul. It was old and tainted, almost feeling greasy. Nicolas pulled hard, feeling the tension of Ragnar's soul attempting to stay attached to his left arm.

“Do it.”

He pulled harder, his muscles felt shredded, his joints filled with glass. He didn't care.

“Take what's yours.”

Niclas used his other hand now, too. Pulling desperately as Ragnar screamed.

“Make them suffer.”

Nicolas felt part of Ragnar's soul rip. An inhuman screech filled the dank dungeon, echoing off of the stone walls. It was something so horrendous it would stay within the stone walls until the end of time.

Grunting with effort and through clenched teeth, Nicolas grunted out the words.

“You! Will! Listen!”

Just like that the soul residing within Ragnar's left arm was torn away at the shoulder. Nicolas was screaming. Ragnar was screaming. The Voice roared. Something within Nicolas came forth. A carnal hunger for power. He felt the presence greedily devour the segment of soul, savoring it. The pain within his body lessened. He could feel it now. Power flowed through him, an unstoppable wave rushing through his very existence.

Nicolas stood and walked over to the whimpering man who laid on the ground. Nicolas created light again and was surprised. He could move it now from his torso to his left hand. Nicolas could only see part of Ragnar's left hand. It was shriveled and blackened.

“Now I'm going to ask again. What did I drink?”

[zumpietoo]

Part Deux...

No, dude, you WISH PP was "a part of that family".....kinda obvious....especially given how PP's own family (who she ignores) is legit rustbelt trash....

Mark was on a much bigger show than CB is on and clearly revels, daily, in how he got Cari together. He's also been friends with/known Cole since they were tweens.....PLUS....he isn't an actual Sprouse so WTF does it even have to do with PP "being part of that family"?

Oh and, lastly? Not only is PP, herself, ofc, a colossal attention whore, but her mom (speaking of thirsty) remains the woman who doled out info to her faithful tweens, including "speshul" pictures....

Dude....have you looked at your kween (and her man and her family) EVERRRRR????

This was a very lowkey, casual but classy event....

Once again, have you looked at your kween? Also....Cole and Dylan are both close to Ari's and Babs's large families....plus it's called integrating and creating a life together....

So deep, so klasseee.....and (sing along with me) have you looked at your kween recently? BTW....Ari looked lovely.

How are ANY of "these weddings" remotely "dirty looking"? This was casual and lowkeyish, but they're older, both previously divorced, etc....however, I thought it looked absolutely splendid! And let's not even get started on the weddings this part summer or Babs in couture, etc....

"Dirty looking" would be whatever the fuck Mommeee went to awhile back and shared pics of her arm flab for the world, prior to the bride posting....and while Fancee Nicola's wedding itself certainly wasn't, PP's conduct there most assuredly WAS....

Again, Cabana Boi isn't remotely hot or funny and I really question the "trust fund" (tho I do get you like to pretend, Silly/janASS)...and I don't think scabbing for less than scale on a cult/student/one and done project, while scrambling to make her next mortgage payment is "on top professionally", either....

Ummm....have you looked at your kween??? Also, with Cole iz fatty, ummm....A) no and B) have you looked at your kween?

Oh hai, Liareyes----I remember when you searched that out over 6 years ago. Next time, try updating yourself.....I think Matt sold the house over a year ago and bought a place with Lindsey. He also (clearly) has plenty of his own $$$.....my guess is that was some sort of tax shelter or trust fund....(you know, like you guys pretend CB has!)

Oh wow....how far off the map is this?

Yes, PP never "fit in" because she didn't want to bother herself/was still under mommeee's pull at that point. However, noooo.....other than Chrissy (sad girl mutuals), I don't think any of the Sprouses liked her one bit. Including Babs....

It's long been really obvious Dylan couldn't stand her and it seems like she and Matt, past a few meetings, only got along for Cole's sake. I'd even point out they all liked BREETCH better than they liked PP....and, albeit for entirely selfish, gold digging reasons, Breetch DID make an effort (for awhile, at least).

And by "fans" do they mean "close family friends"? Dude, you're so pressed and it's so fucking funny!

[skarsgardsnark]

I’ve enjoyed all the bill content so I hope no one takes this the wrong way.

I think Bill has kind of put himself in the position of not doing a lot press for this film. It may be on purpose because of the hiding of orlock or whatever. UnLike Nicolas hoult who also had a few movies come out and is really doing the press stuff and doing it well. I never really considered Nicolas as a leading actor until this year and his catalog is pretty extensive. He had another movie recently out that I went and saw called the order because I saw a cool interview he did. But it’s BECAUSE HE DOES PRESS he’s is capable of gaining new fans. Nicolas has really done well.

I think Bill could maybe learn from that. This movie is massive and he has such an important role and he’s kind of coasting on the press. It’s disappointing. Oh and before anyone says I’m being insensitive, Nicolas has young children too and somehow he’s out here doing press and the grueling hours.

It's become a running gag in the fandom that Bill never promotes his films 🥴. Everyone acknowledges he doesn't do much press and barely leaves his house. Nick has been doing a lot of promo and Emma and ATJ recently did a fun interview with Who What Wear. I don't know how much screen time Bill has but he's basically the focal point of the film so you would think he'd be doing more. Maybe it's an anxiety nervous thing with him, idk. 🤷‍♀️

[celestialmazer]

The return of Ryan Gosling

Starring as Ken in ‘Barbie’, Ryan Gosling talks candidly about the new kind of films he wants to make – and the offscreen roles he’s prioritising in real life

https://www.gq-magazine.co.uk/article/ryan-gosling-interview-2023

Full interview below for posterity ✌️

Ryan Gosling subscribes to what he calls an escape-room style of acting. This is a little theoretical, because he’s never actually been to an escape room, and he’s not totally sure what happens inside them. “Maybe I should do one,” he says, “to see if this really works.” But the general idea is this: you’re thrown into a particular set of circumstances and you’ve got to find your way out. Maybe you show up on set one day and it’s raining when it’s not supposed to be raining, Gosling says, “or this person doesn’t want to say any of that dialogue, or the neighbour’s got a leaf blower and they’re not turning it off.” What do you do next?

Over time, Gosling has discovered that this approach might apply to more than just acting. Maybe, for instance, you’re a kid growing up in a town you don’t want to be in and you’re trying to locate an exit. Maybe you’re looking for something you can’t put into words and you make movies to try to pin down whatever it is you’re looking for. Maybe you’re a person who never envisioned raising a family and then you meet the person who, in some radical way, changes how you see yourself and your future. Life comes at you, in all its unanticipated and startling particulars; the thing that makes you an artist is the way you respond.

And being open to the unexpected has served Gosling well. When he was young, his first real breakthrough came in a movie (2001’s The Believer) about a Jewish kid from New York who becomes a neo-Nazi. Gosling was none of these things, which the director, Henry Bean, turned out to like. “The fact that I wasn’t really right for it was exactly why he thought I was right for it,” Gosling says. A few years later, when Gosling was auditioning for The Notebook, he says, director Nick Cassavetes “straight up told me: ‘The fact that you have no natural leading-man qualities is why I want you to be my leading man.’ ” Gosling got the part; he’s been a leading man ever since.

In his youth, Gosling treated acting a little bit like therapy, or an opportunity “to teach myself about myself.” He was in search of experiences – films that could capture a mood, or a feeling. Sometimes what he was doing barely looked like acting at all. “Even though I think Ryan has watched a lot of movies, the way he acts is as if he hasn’t watched that many movies,” says Emily Blunt, who got to know Gosling on the set of David Leitch’s forthcoming film The Fall Guy. For 2010’s Blue Valentine, Gosling lived for a time with his co-star, Michelle Williams, in the house where they shot the film, playing the part of parents with the young actor who played their daughter. For 2011’s Drive, he and the film’s director, Nicolas Winding Refn, spent days driving across Los Angeles, listening to music and whittling away dialogue from their script until the film was purely about the unnameable sensation the two of them shared in the car. “I was trying to find a place to put all these things that were happening to me,” Gosling says. “And these films became ways to do that, like time capsules.” For Refn’s next film, Only God Forgives, Gosling spent months in Thailand before shooting began, training in Muay Thai camps, learning to fight. “And I don’t think I did Muay Thai once in that film,” he says. Refn changed plans. Gosling was okay with it: “I didn’t do the film to do Muay Thai.”

And then something interesting happened, or maybe – in the manner of life – a few things happened, and the way Gosling worked began to change. He and his partner, Eva Mendes, with whom he starred in The Place Beyond the Pines, had their first child in 2014 and their second in 2016, both daughters. Gosling started to act in fewer independent movies and more studio films, like La La Land and Blade Runner 2049. These were movies, as Gosling describes them to me, “for an audience.” And then, for four years, he didn’t appear in anything at all.

Gosling’s explanation for his absence from Hollywood is straightforward: he and Mendes had their second child, and he “wanted to spend as much time as I could with them.” Gosling is not one of those people who picture themselves as a parent – the moment he first imagined himself as a father, he says, was the moment immediately before he became one: “Eva said she was pregnant.” But, he adds, “I would never want to go back, you know? I’m glad I didn’t have control over my destiny in that way, because it was so much better than I ever had dreamed for myself.”

When Gosling finally came back to work, it was for last year’s The Gray Man, an action spectacle directed by the Russo brothers for Netflix, and then this year’s Barbie, directed by Greta Gerwig. He says the time away solidified certain changes in his attitude toward his job. “I treat it more like work now, and not like it’s, you know, therapy,” he says. “It’s a job, and I think in a way that allows me to be better at it because there’s less interference.”

Perhaps not coincidentally, the projects he’s gravitating towards now, which include The Fall Guy – another giant action film, which Leitch describes as “a love letter to big movies,” and which Gosling has just finished shooting in Australia – seem to have larger and more crowd-pleasing aspirations. “I’ve always wanted to do it,” Gosling says. “I just never really had the opportunity like this, or it never kind of worked itself out this way. It took me a long time to get into bigger, more commercial films. I had to kind of take the back entrance.”

When Gosling was younger, making independent movies, it was often with the unspoken expectation that not many people would see them. “So you kinda make the movie for yourselves,” he says. Somebody once gave him the advice, “Your job is just to feel it.” “Doesn’t matter if anyone else does, you know?” Gosling says. “But I think, having done a lot of that, I realise that I kind of feel like my job is for other people to feel it. And it’s cool if I do, but that’s really not the point. The point is that other people do.”

From Cornwall, Ontario, where Gosling grew up, to Toronto, where he began attending auditions as a child actor, was “like, a five-hour train ride,” Gosling says. He shares this, in part, because the two of us are on a train right now: the Pacific Surfliner, winding out of Los Angeles and along the coast. Just something he had never done and wanted to do. We walked through Union Station to the platform together and I watched a bunch of afternoon commuters, families surrounded by luggage, people with nowhere else to go just killing time, and kids in jaunty outfits like La La Land extras doing cartoon double takes, despite the white hat Gosling wore pulled down low.

Actually: “Let me make sure it’s five hours from Cornwall,” Gosling says, putting down the Starbucks cup that says “Freddie” on it and pulling out his phone. “Don’t wanna start self-mythologising. ‘It was a hundred hours on a train.’” He puts the phone away. “Four hours and 15 minutes.” Margot Robbie, who produced and stars in Barbie, calls Gosling “an overthinker.” He’ll say something, she says, “and then 40 minutes later, he’ll come up to me and be like, ‘You know when I said that? I’m just clarifying that what I meant was, blah blah.’ And I’m like, ‘Why are you still thinking about that?’ ”

Gosling is wearing boots and a workwear jacket and, at 42, has merry little creases around the eyes. You can sort of see what Nick Cassavetes was saying when he gave him a hard time about being a leading man: his features, broad and more than a little mischievous, are just unconventional enough to remind you that the matinee idol thing wasn’t foretold. Despite having played any number of violent men in movies, in person he reads as somewhere between reserved and simply shy. “He’s very gentle,” Blunt says. “He likes to kind of sleuth around. He’s more sleuth-y than macho, you know?” But these days people just sort of bend toward him. On the train, phones protrude from other rows at unnatural angles, and the ticket taker in our car keeps coming by to offer him snacks.

In Barbie – a massively ambitious summer blockbuster that attempts to both honour the generations of children who played with the doll and introduce new and sophisticated gender politics, the concept of mortality, and an ironic opening homage to Kubrick’s 2001 – Gosling plays Ken, the adoring doll that orbits Barbie, who is played by Robbie. There was not a lot to Ken before Gosling and the filmmakers got to him. “Ken,” Gosling says, “his job is beach. For 60 years, his job has been beach. What the fuck does that even mean?”

Gerwig, who also co-wrote the film with her partner, Noah Baumbach, says that they were trying to strike a delicate tonal balance with Ken, as they were with the whole film: it’s supposed to be funny, because it’s a film about dolls, but it’s also supposed to be full of suffering and pathos, because, well… it’s a film about dolls. And Ken, forever an afterthought, is perhaps the funniest and saddest of them all. Gerwig says she cast Gosling because “there is a quality to Ryan’s acting – even when he is hilarious, it’s never the actor standing outside of the role commenting on or judging this person. He doesn’t try and make you know that Ryan Gosling knows that this is silly. He does it in a way that takes on all of the potential humiliations of the character as his own.”

Some people I have spoken to, including, at times, Gosling himself, have expressed not mystification but a curiosity about how Gosling ended up in a Mattel-produced movie about a kids’ toy. (Even Robbie jokes about this when we speak: “We were like, ‘He’s just done a movie called First Man… And then he’s done a  movie called The Gray Man… Maybe he’s ready to do Barbie! Maybe he wants to do the total opposite!’ ”) Part of it, Gosling tells me, actually relates to the kids’ toy thing: his daughters play with Barbies and Ken, sort of. “I did see him, like, face down in the mud outside one day, next to a squished lemon,” he says, “and it was like, this guy’s story does need to be told, you know?”

But another reason Gosling was drawn to the movie relates, in a way, to the four-hour-and-15-minute train ride he used to undertake, by himself, to and from auditions. He returns frequently in conversation to this particular period of his life. The story, briefly: Cornwall smelled like rotten eggs, because of its paper mill, where Gosling’s father and some of his uncles worked. His parents split up. He was raised in the Mormon church. He did not have a lot of friends, or an easy time with school. He had an uncle who was an Elvis impersonator, and there was something about the shows he did that made Gosling want to perform as well. “Here was this kind of bedazzled door number three with question marks on it,” he says, “and I went in.”

Gosling says it was this uncle who first gave him a glimpse of how art can transform both the people who make it and those who observe it – Gosling would help him with his shows, and watch him turn into someone else when he performed, someone different and more full of life. The uncle bolstered his act with talent shows featuring people from the local community. “Everyone had this secret talent,” Gosling says. “You’d see the guy that bags groceries, and he has some version of ‘Black Velvet’ that’ll bring the house down, you know? And then you realise that that’s really him, and the performance is the guy he’s playing who packs bags.”

Gosling started asking himself, “What is my talent?” He began auditioning, and the auditions he was travelling to led to his being cast, aged 12, in Disney’s The All-New Mickey Mouse Club, alongside Justin Timberlake, Christina Aguilera and Britney Spears. Unlike his peers, he did not make much of a mark there. “Everybody was at, like, prodigy level,” he says. “I certainly wasn’t a child prodigy. I didn’t know why I was there. And I think that was the consensus. It’s why I didn’t work – it was like, they dressed me up as a hamster or put me in the background of someone’s song. But it was all a great experience in a way because it helped me figure out what I wasn’t going to be good at, which is important to learn too.”

What Gosling turned out to be good at, in the long run, was playing a certain kind of brooding, intense young man in an independent film, and so for years, he did that. But inside him, always, lived the spirit of a kid dressed up like a hamster in Orlando, performing for anyone who would watch. And I share this next part of our conversation more or less verbatim, because I think there’s, well, a lot of Ryan Gosling in it – the scepticism of the ersatz therapy that a magazine interview can become; the instinct to protect himself; the heartfelt honesty that is nevertheless his mode; and the comic timing, which is uncannily similar to that of any number of characters we’ve seen him play onscreen.

It begins, as these things often do, with a somewhat overwrought interview question:

What do you think the young Ryan would make of where you’ve ended up?

“Um, what would young Ryan say? First of all, I’d be like, ‘Hey, young Ryan, calm down. This dude Zach asked me to come back and talk to you.’ ”

[Helpless laughter.]

“ ‘Don’t ask how. Don’t ask why; I don’t have time. We’re on a train, and the train’s gonna end, so we only have so much time. [Pause.] You’re gonna be in a Barbie movie.’ ”

He continues, no longer playing a scene: “Look, the irony is that the movies that I’ve made so many of – I didn’t grow up watching independent films. We didn’t have an arthouse cinema. I didn’t know anything about the kinds of films that I was in, you know? I didn’t have any real frame of reference. All I had was, like, my Blockbuster knowledge.”

In the video store he’d go to in Cornwall, “it was all bigger films, and most of them were action films or comedies,” Gosling says. “That’s why I loved movies. It’s those films that made me want to do this. Like, obviously I learned more about film, and I feel very lucky to have been able to make the movies that I’ve made. But it’s cool to be in a phase of my life where I’m getting to make the kinds of things that inspired me to make film in general.”

So, “kid me, this kid you want me to go and talk to?” Gosling says. “He would like Barbie more than The Believer, you know?”

And as for Ken, the no-thoughts-just-vibes character he plays in the film: “There’s something about this Ken that really, I think, relates to that version of myself. Just, like, the guy that was putting on Hammer pants and dancing at the mall and smelling like Drakkar Noir and Aqua Net-ing bangs. I owe that kid a lot. I feel like I was very quick to distance myself from him when I started making more serious films. But the reality is that, like, he’s the reason I have everything I have.”

Gosling’s been thinking about that kid a lot recently. “He didn’t know what he was doing or why he was doing it, he was just doing it, and it’s like, I owe my whole life to him,” he says. “And I wish I had been more grateful at the time, you know?” He tells me he spent a lot of time on the Barbie set communing with this younger version of himself, who didn’t have a clue, but who did everything in total earnestness.

“I really had to go back and touch base with that little dude,” Gosling says, “and say thank you, and ask for his help.”

These days Gosling lives in a quiet town in the southern half of California. Because he brings his family to the location of each movie he shoots, he aims to do only one or so per year. Most of the time, he’s simply at home. Relatives come around, Gosling says, but he and Mendes don’t have a nanny; whatever they do, they do it themselves. Gosling is frankly romantic about his life with his daughters and Mendes. He says things were one way, then they were another. “I was looking for her, you know?”

Were you conscious of that?

“No. But it all makes sense now.”

He tells me that as a parent, whenever he doesn’t know what to do, “I just lean on Eva. She knows what’s important, always. She just somehow knows. So if ever I’m in my head about it, I just ask her.”

In the past, Gosling sought life, and creative inspiration, in extreme places. In 2014, he wrote and directed a film, Lost River, that grew out of a regular trip he’d been making to Detroit with a camera, just to film decaying buildings. The movie is a fever dream: violent, paranoid, surreal. Gosling remains proud of it. But these days, he says, “all the things that are happening right now at home I just find funnier and more inspiring than any of the stuff I came across when I was out there in abandoned buildings looking for it.”

Because Gosling hasn’t worked much since 2018, he has been mostly out of the public eye, but that will soon change with Barbie. Anyone who has ever seen Gosling on a talk show knows that he tends to be a charismatic and genial ambassador for whatever project he’s out there promoting. But he does not particularly enjoy talking about himself, something I know because he tells me, multiple times, as our train makes its way along the coast.

“I mean, you know how it is; you do this,” he says, when I ask him what the source of his discomfort is. “It hasn’t been useful for me personally to start self-pathologising or, um, telling a story about why or pretending to even understand all the machinations of why. A lot of it was just operating on instinct. It was escape room, you know?”

To that end, he deluges me with a slew of questions of his own – I think partly because he’s a genuinely nice guy, or at least a polite one, and somewhat interested, and a lot to avoid being asked questions himself. He asks about my 14-month-old son and how having a kid has or has not changed me. (“Do you find it’s affected your work, or the way that you work, or why you’re doing it?”) For a while, he asks about my mum, because I tell him she used to play the guitar, and Gosling suddenly needs to know everything. (“Moms that play guitar, that’s so cool. Kind of like Liona Boyd, Liona Boyd style? Or like classical? Folky? That’s cool. You don’t hear a lot about a mom guitarist.”)

“I feel like he watches everyone and everyone’s nuances so acutely,” says Blunt, “that at some point, I think everyone will be sucked up and put in a movie, into a character.” She had the same suspicion I’m having now. “I’m sure it’s a deflection strategy,” she says, laughing. “I’m sure I told him many more intimate secrets than he told me. He’s quite gifted at that.”

It’s charming; it’s also understandable. If you are a certain age, you will well remember the frenzy in the early part of the past decade around Gosling, and particularly around his appearance, which was the subject of endless Tumblr posts and thirsty bar conversations. “I think it embarrasses him in some ways,” says Blunt, about the public perception of him as some sort of cross between the perfect boyfriend and the coolest man around, “because it’s not what he feels. I got the sense it wasn’t really what he felt about himself.”

Earlier in his career, Gosling used to talk about being raised by a single mother who was attractive, and how frightening he found the predatory energy that came from the men they’d encounter, how uneasy he was made by the way people related to her. (Gosling says that Lost River, with its portrait of a searching boy and his struggling mother, played by Christina Hendricks, is explicitly about this feeling he had as a child.) He tells me now, flatly, that he never made the connection between his mother and himself and the attention his own appearance began to garner as he became famous. He did his best to depersonalise the attention he was getting. But the whole experience, he admits, was “confusing.”

And now, to some extent, it seems to be happening again. After a Barbie trailer was released, fans on social media began arguing whether or not Gosling was, in fact, too weathered and grown-up now to play Ken, a debate that, in time, made its way onto the pages of the New York Post (“Gen Z Barbie Fans Slammed for Calling Ryan Gosling Too ‘Old’ to Play Ken”) and a number of other tabloids. Gosling’s response to this is, at least initially, diplomatic and a little amused: “I would say, you know, if people don’t want to play with my Ken, there are many other Kens to play with.”

Later, though, he brings it up again, unprompted. “It is funny,” he says, “this kind of clutching-your-pearls idea of, like,#notmyKen. Like you ever thought about Ken before this?” As he said earlier, this is a guy whose job is beach.

“And everyone was fine with that, for him to have a job that is nothing. But suddenly, it’s like, ‘No, we’ve cared about Ken this whole time.’ No, you didn’t. You never did. You never cared. Barbie never fucked with Ken. That’s the point. If you ever really cared about Ken, you would know that nobody cared about Ken. So your hypocrisy is exposed. This is why his story must be told.”

Gosling catches himself and laughs. “I care about this dude now. I’m like his representative. ‘Ken couldn’t show up to receive this award, so I’m here to accept it for him.’ ”

On the phone one day, Greta Gerwig tells me a story. It takes place before Barbie begins shooting, when she and Robbie are hosting a sleepover for the actors who play the different Barbies in the cast. The Kens are also invited to stop by, but Gosling can’t make it. Midway through, there’s a knock at the door. “And this man, this Scottish man in a full kilt, showed up and played the bagpipes,” Gerwig says. The man tells them that Gosling sent him. “Then he read a speech from Braveheart. And then he left.”

When I ask Gosling why Braveheart, and specifically why the moment when Mel Gibson tells a bunch of sons of Scotland that the English may take our lives but they’ll never take our freedom, he says, “Well, sometimes, you just need to hear it.” Gerwig says that Gosling “always can sense very quickly what would be the most delightfully funny thing to do next. And then he does it.”

This is the kind of thing a director says about an actor when he’s starring in her comedy, but, for whatever it’s worth, here is a more or less total summary of what happens later. Gosling and I depart the train, talking about nothing in particular: childhood, Starter jackets, the way that playing cool can skew into a fear of playing at all. “Like, you thought you were winning by not trying,” he says. “Or at least showing that you weren’t trying. But it kind of backfires a little later, when you start actually not trying in order to win.”

I’m nodding at the profundity of what Gosling is saying, and he keeps going: “And then you realise that that’s actually what losing is. Just not trying.”

“Yes!” I say.

Then he says, because he knows he has me now, “And all you had to do was watch Rocky to realise that just trying is winning.”

And I start laughing, because what has me so inspired is a light paraphrase of the speech that Sylvester Stallone gives in more or less every Rocky movie.

We go into a restaurant not far from the station, with comfy booths and not a lot of people around, and split a bunch of food as the sun begins to set outside. It’s quiet, and calmer than the train, and as our dishes arrive and the server comes around a few more times to check on him, Gosling talks a little more about why he’s wary of these conversations, ones that “can border into therapy, which is bad for obvious reasons.”

Sometimes, he says, “it can feel like, you know, you go in wearing jeans, and you come out wearing cutoffs. And the pocket’s not the only thing that’s showing, you know what I mean?”

I’m laughing again, and we start negotiating the length of the metaphorical jeans he’s going to leave with this time.

“What about a capri?” he proposes.

Just the ankle?

“Yeah. A tiny bit of ankle. Deal?”

And I grin and say, “Deal,” though I don’t mean it, and excuse myself to use the restroom, and when I return, he’s already made arrangements to break free. As I sit back down in the now empty booth, our server comes over, somewhat apologetically, with every dessert on the menu, plus a few they don’t advertise, courtesy of Gosling. He places plates of ice cream down one by one by one by one by one as I watch the actor himself escape out the front door.

“I’m having a little train regret,” Gosling says, a few weeks later. “I think just the nostalgic nature of it and the hypnotic rocking motion got me musing and self-mythologising more than I intended to.”

On my computer screen, his Ken-blond hair is covered up by a hat advertising the Caterpillar construction equipment company. There are wooden panels behind him and sunlight coming from somewhere I can’t see. It’s Sunday, and Gosling is recovering from yesterday, the birthday of one of his daughters. A bunch of family flew in. “I think I made over 30 pizzas and over 40 espresso drinks,” Gosling says. “And since my stepdad is Roman, I think all of those things might put me  aligned to apply for my Italian citizenship.”

Today, he’s about to get into a car to drive to an advance screening of Barbie and sneak in to watch the film for the first time with an audience. But first, well, he has some thoughts about his earlier thoughts. “I think I was going on about abandoned buildings and, uh, time capsules and some bullshit like that,” he says. “That is fine, I think, between two guys dad-ing out on a train. But if you put that stuff in quotes on top of a guy in a pink duster with, like, a ripped shirt, the, uh, needle on the bullshit meter starts to break off.”

He also wants to apologise. “Sorry about all the ice cream,” he says. “I thought it’d be stuff you could take home, you know?”

He pauses. “What else was I thinking of?” And then remembers. “When you asked me about Eva and kids, I think I said I didn’t think about kids until she told me she was pregnant. That’s not really true. I didn’t want to overshare, but now I also don’t want to misrepresent. I mean, it’s true that I wasn’t thinking about kids before I met her, but after I met Eva, I realised that I just didn’t want to have kids without her. And there were moments on The Place Beyond the Pines where we were pretending to be a family, and I didn’t really want it to be pretend anymore. I realised that this would be a life I would be really lucky to have.”

I ask Gosling why he didn’t just say that the first time, given how nice and how genuine the sentiment is.

“I didn’t really want to get into it,” he says. “But I realised that I was misrepresenting the reality of it.”

In the weeks since Gosling and I had last spoken, I’d spent some time on the phone with people who know him, including, memorably, Harrison Ford, who starred with Gosling in Blade Runner 2049. Ford, who is himself well-known in Hollywood for his no-nonsense approach to the business, describes a man he admires but has never really got to know. “I think we went out to dinner one time,” he says. “But on the set, he’s just a joy to work with. We both don’t like to talk about acting as much as we like to just get it done. And he’s one of those guys who just comes and does it.” They filmed the movie together, promoted it, and then, according to Ford, haven’t spoken once since. Gosling confirms this: “The last time I saw him, we were eating hamburgers in the parking lot of The Apple Pan after a screening of Blade Runner.”

The idea, Gosling says, is to do it and be gone and leave no record of what or why beyond that. Talk about the new movie, get in and get out. He looks at me and sighs, like he didn’t mean for any of the rest of this to happen. “I mean, I just wanted to ride the Surfliner and talk about Barbie, you know?”

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

I found the following reported in Jules Claretie’s Camille Desmoulins and his wife (1876):

At the close of the night-sitting, which decided the arrest of Danton and his friends, Robert Lindet and the aged Ruhl — who moreover had not signed the decree for the arrest — warned him, through Panis. ”Danton,” said Doctor Robinet (Comment se tuent les Republiques, articles on La Politique positive), ”Danton had not gone out of his house. Sitting at the fireside in his study, leaning over the hearth lost in thought, from time to time he roused himself from his immobility to poke the fire violently; then he would heave deep sighs and utter broken sentences. At other times he rose abruptly, and walked with long strides through the room; then throwing his arms round his nephew, from whom we have this account, he embraced him with emotion.” Panis' visit, although he was agitated and troubled, and besought Danton to fly, did not move Danton. Yet the danger was urgent.

Unfortunately, I have not yet been able to track down this Comment se tuent les Republiques by Doctor Robinet. But judging by this, it would at least appear the story is indeed backed up by some kind of source… Interestingly though, I found a very similar story being told in Histoire de la Révolution française: 1789-1796 (1851) by Nicolas Villiaumé, but without any mention being made of Lindet… :

One morning Panis entered [Danton’s] office and found him warming himself by the fire and playing with his nephew, who was still a child. Here, read your proscription and mine! [he said]. And he presents him with a draft of an arrest warrant, written by a member of the government committees. Danton, having read it, replied coldly: They will not dare!... Panis, in despair, withdrew. (M. Menuel, this nephew of Danton, told me about this meeting. Panis had also told it to a few people who confirmed it to me).

Anecdotes about Danton being warned about his arrest warrant having been signed is certainly not something we’re otherwise lacking. These are the other ones I’ve found (so far):

The day before the arrest of Danton and Camille Desmoulins, he (Rousselin de Saint-Albin) ran panting to both of them several times, he engaged them, begged them to be on guard at a time when Robespierre and Billaud were plotting their downfall. But Danton thought he was too strong to listen to a warning that would have saved him. “They will not dare,” he said; then, looking at himself in a mirror:“Let us not fear anything, children that you are! See my head, doesn't it sit well on my shoulders? And why would they want to kill me? What's the point? Among some friends who were present at this interview, one said: ”There are many proscribed deputies who fortunately escaped. Dulaure, Doulcet, Louvet retired to Switzerland. What prevents you from absenting yourself for at least some time?” Danton replied: “What does it mean to absent yourself? Isn’t that emigrating? Do we take our homeland with the sole of our shoe?” Camille shared this opinion. Alas! It was blind security. ”I want,” he said, as he repeated going to the scaffold, ”I want to share the fate of Danton, whatever it may be.” Œuvres de Camille Desmoulins (1874) by Jules Claretie, volume 2, page 393. Claretie claims this anecdote originates from the mouth of Desmoulins’ mother-in-law.

The two committees signed arrest warrants against Danton, Desmoulins, Philippeaux and Lacroix for the following night. In the morning, Marat's sister, having learned about it through the indiscretion of an employee of the Committee of Public Safety, who had heard a few words, ran to warn Danton. As he had already left for the Assembly, she went there and called out for him. “Mount the rostrum,” she said to him. ”You have no time to lose, because the rumor is that you have already been arrested: the opportunity is favorable: Tallien presides: your friends are numerous, and your eloquence will crush the committees. In circumstances such as these, it is the one who attacks who wins.” ”I would have to proscribe them, replied Danton; because I know Billaud and Robespierre: they are relentless.” ”But since they want your head, take, if necessary, theirs, remember that, without you, Robespierre will very quickly be swallowed up himself. My brother told me the day before his death that he was only good at making speeches, that he understood nothing about government, and that he would lose his head at the first crisis. If he abandons you, his friend, you, the man of August 10, he is only a villain; he must perish. Collect your thoughts for an hour, and mount the rostrum: change the committees; proscribe them if necessary. "Well! Once they have me arrested, would I not be acquitted by the revolutionary tribunal and brought back in triumph, to the Convention, like the Friend of the People was? Then my enemies will be confounded and order will be restored without bloodshed.” ”Don't be fooled: last year the tribunal was impartial; now it is only the slave of the committees, which after having hindered the defense of the Girondins and that of Vincent, will prevent you from speaking.” Danton fell into reverie.  “Above all, remember,” added Mademoiselle Marat, “that you must neither flee nor hide. Several patriots, in their friendship, have proposed it to you; you were even offered asylum. Danton has no other place than the rostrum. Get up there without delay; this is not just about your salvation, but of that of all of your friends, but of the salvation of the republic. Farewell." Danton shook her hand and left her, promising to not lose time. Histoire de la Révolution française: 1789-1796 (1851) by Nicolas Villiaumé, page 279. Villiaumé had gotten in contact with Albertine Marat before her death, so it’s most likely she herself this anecdote originates from.

”Oh! If I had known that they would arrest me,” cried Lacroix [at the Luxembourg prison]. ”I knew it,” Danton replied, people came and warned me, and I couldn’t believe it.” ”Trois mémoires de la collection de Nougatet” cited in Histoire parlementaire de la Révolution Française, volume 32

Danton, placed in a cell next to Westermann [in the Conciergerie], didn’t stop talking, less to be heard by Westermann than by us. […] Here are some phrases I retained: […] ”I knew I would get arrested.” Mémoires d’un detenu pour servir à l’histoire de la tyrannie de Robespierre(1795) by Honoré Riouffe

if all these reports are legit, danton is literally this guy:

The other day I rewatched La Terreur et la Vertu part 1 and I was wondering whether Lindet really went to warn Danton about his imminent arrest or whether it was just the directors' artistic freedom.

Does someone know anything?

[ourloveisforthelovely]

Black Heart Part 9

Regulus Black AU 

Request: Will you write a Regulus x Reader fic where Regulus is older than the reader? She comes to help the Order and Regulus falls in love with her. The relationship isn’t easy because of the war and Regulus’ denial that he would be a good boyfriend.

Summary: Admitting that he was in love had never been something that Regulus wanted to do. Now that you were in his life, Regulus didn’t know how to react. Should he love you or push you away just like he had everyone else?

Rating: M

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader

Link to Part 8

_____

Going back downstairs, you entered the kitchen while Regulus went off to find Sirius. You had a feeling that he was going off to figure out what “laying low” truly meant. Did that mean that the two of you weren’t allowed to leave the house? What about your doctor appointments or when both Regulus and yourself were so sick of being stuck in the house that it was necessary to go out? You also made a mental note about how Regulus would get extra moody if he spent too much time in the house. Talking to Kreacher and moving from room to room only relieved so much.

“Hey.”

You were pulled from your thoughts by Nicolas’ voice. Looking up, you forced a smile as you noticed Nicolas standing there.

“Hey, why are you just standing there?

Nicolas rolled his eyes.

“I would rather be in her by myself than in that dining room while your psycho boyfriend and his brother whisper to each other about me.”

Here we go…

You thought before taking a deep breath. Nicolas was picking a pretty crap day to continue his “I hate Regulus Black” crusade.

“Nicolas, if you just ignore them and not…get them going they may just leave you alone. Also, Regulus is my fiancé, not my boyfriend…I thought that you should know.”

Nicolas’ mouth dropped. Had he heard you correctly? Did you really just say… fiancé? Nicolas nearly fainted the moment that he saw the ring on your hand.

The bastard actually did it.

“Please tell me that you didn’t say yes?”

You tilted your head in slight confusion.

“I don’t think that I would be wearing an engagement ring if I said no. Of course, I said yes. I love Regulus and besides our…”

Nicolas held a hand up a little over dramatically than needed.

“I know your babies will be here soon. Just because he got you pregnant doesn’t mean that you have to marry him. Call me old fashioned but what’s wrong with living in sin? Y/n, you are too good for him. I know that you are not going to be working for a while. Is this Regulus’ way of keeping you barefoot and pregnant…keeping you locked in this haunted house?”

You gripped the counter in front of you as Kreacher hobbled in. He glared at Nicolas.

“Mistress Y/n, would you like Kreacher to toss the trash out?”

You patted Kreacher on the head before turning back to Nicolas.

“Not at the moment, Kreacher. Nicolas, who actually says barefoot and pregnant? That sounds absolutely cliche and disgusting. I am stopping working because I have to lay low for a bit. Sirius and Remus probably told you that. Furthermore, it was always the plan for me to back off of work a bit once the babies were born. I want to experience my children’s lives. You just can’t accept that I don’t want you. You need to move on, Nicolas, before Regulus makes a pinata out of you.”

You turned to leave the room but stopped when Nicolas grabbed your arm. Spinning around, you punched him in the stomach. Maybe it was the hormones? Maybe it was the pending feelings of distress…whatever it was finally snapped. All that you knew was you were tired of Nicolas interfering. He wasn’t going to interfere in your upcoming marriage or anything else for that matter. He could continue to work for the order but that didn’t mean that you HAD to deal with him.

The moment that Nicolas hit the floor you turned and walked out of the room. Kreacher watched you go before glaring back at Nicolas.

“Kreacher suggests that you leave my mistress alone. Master Regulus has killed people before and he can do it again. The door is over there…you can crawl out it.”

Kreacher turned and walked from the room to go and let Regulus know exactly what was happening. He was not about to sit back and watch his favorite human lose the one woman that he loved the most in the world.

Nicolas was barely on his feet when Regulus stormed in with Sirius and Remus behind him. Sirius was muttering to Remus about wishing that he had a muggle video camera and Remus calling him “Grandpa Sirius” because the muggle cell phone had one. Regulus meanwhile, was totally ready to take Nicolas off of the planet.

“You made her upset? You fucking tosspot I’m going to kill you!”

Nicolas sighed. He had no idea that you would hit so hard. Nicolas saw you as some gentle, kind, motherly woman…boy was he wrong.

“I’ll apologize! I wasn’t intending on upsetting her…for what its worth…”

Regulus’ angry grey eyes were locked on Nicolas’ face as he thought about every “dark” torturous spell that he knew. It would be so easy to make Nicolas’ life miserable and now Regulus had every excuse to do it. If the other man thought for one moment that Regulus would hang back and let him ruin the relationship that the two of you had…old Nicky boy had another thing coming.

“Yeah, you’ll apologize right after I give you a carpet burn on your face and toss you down the stairs headfirst!”

Nicolas blinked.

“Are you going to hit me too? I said I would apologize”

Regulus and Sirius both quickly had the same look of confusion on their faces. Who exactly got to Nicolas first? Who beat them to the “grand prize?”

“Wait, who hit you?”

Regulus asked, clearly thrown off of his guard. Nicolas motioned to his stomach, which was still aching.

“Y/n! Look I will apologize I really don’t want to tangle with you. I don’t think I can really compete with this. What more do you people want from me?”

Sirius and Remus both instantly snorted with laughter. Regulus raised an eyebrow before looking extremely proud.

“Y/n hit you?”

Sirius questioned. He HAD to make damn sure that he heard all of this correctly. Nicolas nodded, hanging his head.

“Yeah…in my stomach. Again, what do you people want from me?”

Regulus turned to walk out of the room. At the moment, he had to find you.

“I’ll get back to you”

Regulus replied before walking out of the room and to the dining room where you stood looking out the window.

You looked up when Regulus stepped in with a smirk on his face.

“I heard that you laid down the law. It's truly regretful that I missed it because I would have loved to have had a ringside seat to that.”

A small smile played on your lips.

“He had what was coming to him. I think that it's safe to say that he won’t be trying to gain my love anytime soon.”

Regulus came over to join you at the window.

“I have to know, was it glorious to slug that creep? Did he puke?”

You rolled your eyes and moved to wrap your arms around Regulus’ shoulders. Enjoying the quiet “close” time was just what you needed in order to calm down.

“No, but I could tell that he wanted to. Did you hit him?”

Regulus chuckled and kissed your forehead.

“I was too stunned when he said that you hit him. That is one problem down.”

Indeed it was one problem down. However, as the following few months passed…you slightly wished that Nicolas was all that the two of you had to worry about. After “lying low” for a while, you felt as if you were getting cabin fever with being stuck in the house most of the time.

Sure, Regulus would take you out on dates from time to time but both of you felt “on guard” the whole time. Regulus would be constantly looking around the room for any potential threat. Always being on the lookout for death eaters or any other “undesirable” that would want either of you dead killed the mood

Regulus was still going to work to keep up appearances while you stayed at home. Never in a million years (and sometimes on a daily basis) did you expect to be a housewife yet here you were. You actually didn’t mind it was much as you thought that you would. It would probably have been more enjoyable if some madman that was causing havoc on the wizarding world wasn’t aware of your fiancé's betrayal.

Does Voldemort really care about me? I mean, the man has a lot more important things to worry about than a pregnant fiancé of one of his former death eaters.

This had been one of your thoughts over the whole Regulus vs Voldemort topic. Another part of you knew that Voldemort would seek any chance to “deal with” someone that had wronged him. Killing the twins and yourself, would be one hell of a way for Voldemort to get back at Regulus.

…and that is why I am stuck in the house.

You thought before going downstairs where Regulus sat on the couch with a book on his lap.

“Reggie?”

Regulus looked up with a small smile. He knew that the past few months had started to wear on you. You never complained or fussed but Regulus could see it in your eyes. Between being stuck in the house and being nearly “ready to pop” you were miserable.

“Yes, love?”

You sat down and struggled to get comfortable. For the last month, it felt as if nothing that you did eased the pain in your back or the “little feet” cramming in your ribs.

“I was thinking that I liked the nursery the way it was.”

The smile on Regulus’ face faded. He had rearranged the nursery at least four times this past week. Every day when he came home, you were wanting to move all of the furniture around.

“Love, this is the fourth time this week. I was thinking does it really matter? I mean, aren’t the babies going to be in the room with us for a while…which I also have questions about…how are we supposed to have sex with them lying in the cots beside us? Won’t that be…weird?”

You took a breath.

“I won’t be able to have sex for at 6 weeks afterward by that time I’m hoping to have them in their nursery…which is why I want the furniture moved.”

Regulus stared at you only blinking.

“Y/n…you’ll want me to switch it all back tomorrow. That’s a lot of stuff.”

You crossed your arms over your chest.

“Fine!”

Regulus sighed before standing up. He was quietly muttering to himself that there was just a little bit longer and he would have his normal fiancé back. Regulus was trying his best to deal with your mood swings and random crying fits but it was difficult…especially for someone who was crap at dealing with emotions anyway.

“Okay, how do you want it?”

He replied, softly. The last thing that Regulus wanted to do was make you cry again. After he made you cry over cozy wool socks and pancakes, he mentally swore to never do that again. Even if he had to do the most insane things to make you happy (for example, going to find you chocolate pudding with crushed-up cookies at 3 am) he would suffer through it.

You perked up, knowing that you were getting your way. Regulus held his hand out to help you stand up.

“Well, let me show you.”

You replied, following Regulus up the stairs. You made a mental note to thank Regulus for putting up with your crazy moods. Regulus never complained or made a fuss (even if his face told another story) and you had to give him credit for that.

“Okay, so I was thinking of the cribs over there and the other stuff on that side.”

Regulus blinked a few times fighting the urge to say “That’s literally how we had it last night.”

“If that’s what you want, darling.”

Regulus moved to start moving some of the stuff but stopped when you made a small squeak. He didn’t look up at first as you started looking around.

“Regulus?”

“Mhm? Did you change your mind already?”

Regulus questioned, hoping that you decided that the current room layout was the best.

“No, my water just broke.”

Regulus stood instantly up and looked at you with wide eyes before looking at the puddle around your feet. The panic instantly went through him as he mentally started doing math. It was still a few weeks early. He never expected the babies coming that day! Another day but not that day!

“Oh…fuck.”

Regulus murmured as you put a hand on your stomach wincing.

“Are you in pain?”

He asked quickly, trying to remember what exactly was supposed to happen. The two of you had talked this out several times but suddenly Regulus was clueless and not sure what to do.

“I have been having back pain all day but that isn’t anything weird…maybe it was contractions.”

You commented before moving to sit down. Regulus moved to the door and turned around to stare at you with wide eyes.

“Why are you sitting down? We need to go to the hospital.”

You took a few more deep breaths.

“I don’t think that I’m going to do this, Regulus.”

Regulus looked totally confused.

“Uh, I don’t think that it works that way…”

You held a hand up.

“This world is bad! There is too much bad to bring babies into. What the hell were we thinking?”

Regulus was nervously rubbing the back of his neck. He was supposed to be the certified basket case in this. You were the doctor, the logical one…the calm one…he was just some guy that got totally thrown into something that he never planned.

“We were thinking that vodka made our clothes fall off. “

You gave him a glare.

“You aren’t funny!”

Regulus moved to kneel down in front of you. He took your hands in his.

“Love, everything is going to be okay. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but all of this mess will get straightened out somehow. We probably could have planned kids at a better time but maybe having them not makes this the right time. Things happen when they are supposed to. You may not have chosen me if it happened another time.”

Your eyes softened and the panic vanished. Reaching out, you stroked your hand over Regulus’ cheek.

“I would always choose you. It looks like our babies will be at our wedding after all.”

Regulus chuckled.

“They’re already dramatic, like their uncle.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread to your face as nodded as Regulus stood up.

“Now can we please get you to the hospital before we have the kids here…with no help?"

____

@amelie-black @jessyballet @knreidy1 @justfinishthis @georgeweasleydumbhoe @acciosiriusblack @siriuslyceleste @mimisparkle12 @teletubiswszpilkach @criminalyetminimal @livshifts @stelleduarte @ell0ra-br3kk3r @millies0bsimp @coffeeaddictednymph @readtomeregulus @rogue-nyx88 @panpride @saramaple @missgorldafirst @i-love-scott-mccall @s-we-e-t-t-ea @f4iryluvy @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @gugggu6gvai @jag9000 @quinis @yousmellllikecaca @mentally-unstable-hoe @haroldpotterson @buttercup-beeee @goldensunshineshit @aurorasnape12 @ad-astra-again @padf00ts-l0ver @rubyroscoe1 @spideyxalmighty @lucasfilms77 @marichromatic @ravenhood2792 @play-morezeppelin @dumybitch @lostarc24 @un-lovesherself @melaninnbarbie @brokencasbutt67-writer @authoressskr @hankypranky @moldy-old-boot @summer-novak @emiwrites3reads @shaylybaby2032 @knight-of-gleefulness @deanwherescas @shitfaceddaniel-blog @untoldshortsofthefandoms @li0nh34rt @tas898 @sprnaturallover @wontlookaway @mycuddlycorner

[shuxiii]

Everyday pt. 8

Hanni Pham x reader pt1, pt2, pt3, pt4, pt5, pt6, pt7, pt8, pt9, pt10, pt11, pt12, pt13

a/n i am dying, credits ''every day'' david levithan

TW: homophobia

a/n me messing i saw hanni in edits today and pictures I had to make chapter 8, still credits all to ''every day'' by David levithan, edit: I'm losing my sanity

Day 6006

The phone rings.

I reach for it, thinking it’s Hanni.

Even though it can’t be.

I look at the name on the screen. Austin.

My boyfriend.

“Hello?” I answer.

“Hugo! This is your nine a.m. wake-up call. I will be there in an hour. Go make yourself purdy.”

“Whatever you say,” I mumble.

There’s a lot I have to do in an hour.

First, there’s the usual getting up, getting showered, and getting dressed. In the kitchen, I can hear my parents talking loudly in a language I don’t know. It sounds like Spanish but isn’t Spanish, so I’m guessing it’s Portuguese. Foreign languages throw me—I have a beginner’s grasp of a few of them, but I can’t really access a person’s memory fast enough to pretend to be fluent in any of them. I access and find that Hugo’s parents are from Brazil. But that’s not going to help me understand them better. So I steer clear of the kitchen.

Austin is picking Hugo up to go to a gay pride parade in Annapolis. Two of their friends, William and Nicolas, will be coming along. It’s marked on Hugo’s calendar as well as his mind.

Luckily, Hugo has a laptop in his room—since it’s the weekend and a school computer isn’t an option, I am going to risk checking in. I quickly open my email and find something that Hanni sent only ten minutes ago.

Yn,

I hope it went well yesterday. I called her house just now and no one was home—do you think they’re getting help? I’m trying to take it as a good sign.

Meanwhile, here’s a link you need to see. It’s out of control.

Where are you today?

H

I click on the link beneath her initial and am taken to the home page of a big Baltimore tabloid website. The headline blares:

THE DEVIL AMONG US!

It’s Haruto’s story, but it’s not only Haruto’s story. This time there are five or six other people from the area claiming to have been possessed by the devil. Much to my relief, none of them besides Haruto are familiar to me. All of them are older than I am. Most claim to have been possessed for a time much longer than a single day.

I would think the reporter would have been more skeptical, but she buys the stories uncritically. She even links to other stories of demonic possession—death-row criminals who claimed they were under the influence of satanic forces, politicians and preachers who were caught in compromising positions and said that something very uncharacteristic had come over them. It all sounds very convenient.

I quickly run Haruto through a search engine and find more coverage. The story, it seems, is going wide.

In article after article, there is one person quoted. Essentially, he says the same thing every time:

“I have no doubt that these are cases of demonic possession,” says Rev. Anderson Poole, who has been counseling Watanabe. “These are textbook examples. The devil is nothing if not predictable.”

“These possessions should come as no surprise,” says Poole. “We as a society have been leaving the door wide open. Why wouldn’t the devil walk right in?”

People are believing this. The articles and posts in the comments sections are legion—all from people who see the devil’s work in everything.

Even though I should know better, I shoot off a quick email to Haruto.

I am not the devil.

I hit send, but I don’t feel any better.

I email Hanni, telling her how it went with Jiwon's father. I also let her know that I’m going to be in Annapolis for the day, and tell her what T-shirt I’m wearing and what I look like.

There’s a honk outside, and I see a car that must be Austin’s. I race through the kitchen and say a hurried goodbye to Hugo’s parents. Then I pile into the car—the boy in the passenger seat (William) moves into the back with the other boy (Nicolas) so I can sit next to my boyfriend. For his part, Austin takes one look at my outfit and tsk-tsks, “You’re wearing that to Pride?” But he’s joking. I think.

There is conversation around me the whole car ride, but I’m not really a part of it. My mind is completely elsewhere.

I shouldn’t have sent Haruto that email.

One simple line, but it admits too much.

From the moment we hit Annapolis, Austin is in his element.

“Isn’t this fun?” he keeps asking.

William, Nicolas, and I nod, agree. In truth, the Annapolis Pride events aren’t that elaborate—in many ways it feels like the navy has turned gay and lesbian for the day, and a ragtag assortment of people have come along to cheer it on. The weather is sunny and cool, and that seems to cheer everyone further. Austin likes to hold my hand and swing it like we’re walking down the yellow brick road. Ordinarily, I’d be charmed. He has every right to be proud, to enjoy this day. It’s not his fault I’m so distracted.

I’m looking for Hanni in the crowd. I can’t help it. Every now and then, Austin catches me.

“See someone you know?” he asks.

“No,” I say truthfully.

She’s not here. She hasn’t made it. And I feel foolish for expecting her to. She can’t just drop her life every time I’m available. Her day is no less important than mine.

We come to a corner where there are a few people protesting the festivities. I don’t understand this at all. It’s like protesting the fact that some people are red-haired.

In my experience, desire is desire, love is love. I have never fallen in love with a gender. I have fallen for individuals. I know this is hard for people to do, but I don’t understand why it’s so hard, when it’s so obvious.

One of the protestor’s signs catches my eye. HOMOSEXUALITY IS THE DEVIL’S WORK, it says. And once again I think about how people use the devil as an alias for the things they fear. The cause and effect is backward. The devil doesn’t make anyone do anything. People just do things and blame the devil after.

Predictably, Austin stops to kiss me in front of the protestors. I try to oblige. Philosophically, I am with him. But I’m not inside the kiss. I cannot manufacture the intensity.

He notices. He doesn’t say anything, but he notices.

I want to check my email on Hugo’s phone, but Austin isn’t letting me out of his sight. When William and Nicolas make a move to get some lunch, Austin says he and I are going to go our own way for a little while.

I assume we’re going to get lunch, too, but instead he pulls me into a hip clothing store and spends the next hour trying things on, with me giving my outside-the-changing-room opinion. At one point, he pulls me into the changing room to steal some kisses, and I oblige. But at the same time, I’m thinking that if we’re inside, there’s no way Hanni is going to find me.

While Austin debates whether the skinny jeans are skinny enough, I find myself wondering what Jiwon is doing at this moment. Is she unburdening herself, going along with it, or is she defiant, denying that she ever wanted help in the first place? I picture Beomgyu and Soobin in their rec room, playing video games, not having any sense that their week was disrupted. I think of Keeho later tonight, preparing his clothes for church tomorrow morning.

“What do you think?” Austin asks.

“They’re great,” I say.

“You didn’t even look.”

I can’t argue this. He’s right. I didn’t.

I look at him now. I need to pay more attention.

“I like them,” I tell him.

“Well, I don’t,” he says. Then he storms back into the changing room.

I haven’t been a good guest in Hugo’s life. I access his memories and discover that he and Austin first became boyfriends at this very celebration, a year ago this weekend. They’d been friends for a little while, but they’d never talked about how they felt. They were each afraid of ruining the friendship, and instead of making it better, their caution made everything awkward. So finally, as a pair of twentysomething men passed by holding hands, Austin said, “Hey, that could be us in ten years.”

And Hugo said, “Or ten months.”

And Austin said, “Or ten days.”

And Hugo said, “Or ten minutes.”

And Austin said, “Or ten seconds.”

Then they each counted to ten, and held hands for the rest of the day.

The start of it.

Hugo would have remembered this.

But I didn’t.

Austin senses something has changed. He comes back from the dressing room without any clothes in his arms, looks at me, and makes a decision.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says. “I don’t want to have this particular conversation in this particular store.”

He leads me down to the water, away from the celebration, away from the crowds. He finds a somewhat secluded bench and I follow him there. Once we sit down, it all comes out.

“You haven’t been with me once this whole day,” he says. “You aren’t listening to a word I say. You keep looking around for someone else. And kissing you is like kissing a block of wood. And today, of all days. I thought you said you were going to give it a chance. I thought you said you were snapping out of whatever it is that’s been afflicting you the past couple of weeks. I am sure I recall you saying there wasn’t anyone else. But maybe I’m mistaken. I was willing to bend over backward, Hugo. But I can’t bend over backward and walk around at the same time. I can’t bend over backward and have a conversation. I guess when it all comes down to it, I’m just not that damn flexible.”

“Austin, I’m sorry,” I say.

“Do you even love me?”

I have no idea if Hugo loves him or not. If I tried, I’m sure I could access moments when he loved him and moments when he didn’t. But I can’t answer the question and be sure I’m being truthful. I’m caught.

“My feelings haven’t changed,” I say. “I’m just a little off today. It has nothing to do with you.”

Austin laughs. “Our anniversary has nothing to do with me?”

“That’s not what I said. I mean my mood.”

Now Austin is shaking his head.

“I can’t do this, Hugo. You know I can’t do this.”

“Are you breaking up with me?” I ask, genuine fear in my voice. I can’t believe I’m doing this to both of them.

Austin hears the fear, looks at me and maybe sees something worth keeping.

“This isn’t the way I want today to go,” he says. “But I have to believe that it isn’t the way you want it to go, either.”

I can’t imagine that Hugo was planning to break up with Austin today. And if he was, he can always do it tomorrow.

“Come here,” I say. Austin moves in to me and I lean into his shoulder. We sit like that for a moment, looking at the ships on the bay. I take his hand. When I turn to look at him, he’s blinking back tears.

This time when I kiss him, I know there’s something in it. When he feels it, it may come across as love. It is my thanks to him for not ending it. It is my thanks to him for giving it at least one day more.

We stay out until late, and I am a good boyfriend the whole time. Eventually I lose myself a little in his life, dancing along with Austin, William, Nicolas, and a few hundred other gays and lesbians when the parade organizers blast the Village People’s “In the Navy.”

&n

bsp; I keep looking for Hanni, but only when Austin is distracted. And, at a certain point, I give up.

When I get home, there’s an email from her:

Yn,

Sorry I couldn’t make it to Annapolis—there were some things I had to do.

Maybe tomorrow?

H

I wonder what the “things I had to do” were. I have to assume they involve Minji, because otherwise, wouldn’t she have told me what they were?

I’m pondering this when Austin texts me to say he ended up having a great day. I text him back and say I had a great day, too. I can only hope that’s the way Hugo remembers it, because now Austin has proof if he denies it.

Hugo’s mother comes in and says something to me in Portuguese. I only get about half of it.

“I’m tired,” I tell her in English. “I think it’s time for bed.”

I don’t think I’ve addressed her questions, but she just shakes her head—I am a typical, unforthcoming teenager—and heads back to her room.

Before I go to sleep, I decide to see if Haruto has written me back.

He has.

Two words.

Prove it.

[neonlight2]

*Nyx Flamel Backstory*

Warning: blood (nothing to graphic) and pregnancy

Masterlist

It was raining…

So hard, that each drop that hit the glass of the many window mimicked that of pebbles falling on steel. The wind had grew ravenous as a starved dog, howling and thrashing against any surface that came within its path. All other life had grown silent, hiding in hopes that the weather would soon pass and leave their homes in some reasonable form.

A man, frail in stature and pale in color, however, was up and about as ever. He had little worry, lost to his youth which had left him many decades ago. Now, with his mostly white, frizzled hair decorated with thin lines of brown, his mind raced faster than his feet. Bare as the day he was born, they touched the cold stone floor in order to keep him awake, for it had been days since he’d slept.

Grabbing the fourth—and seemingly the last— bottle of crushed gold he had in his possession, the man poured the remainder of the shiny dust into the cauldron frothing with fog. There was an intense aroma about the room; one he had become immune to. The smell had numbed his nose the fifth time he’d come across it, yet he knew that all was right just based upon the liquid’s complexion. Rich, and thick— the mixture moved smoothly and gave off a purple hue until faced with natural light. In the suns rays, or in this case, lightening’s flash, it glistened a deep scarlet.

For a moment he could feel his knees buckle; he had been too indecisive with this batch. The alchemist knew he should have made it a week earlier, but he had truly thought of letting go this time. And no matter how much his conscious scolded him, calling out his cowardice to face death, Nicholas Flamel could not help his instincts. Nor could he stop the giddiness bubbling in his stomach as he imagined that same flavor on his tongue. The taste of life.

Moreover, when he went to scoop up the first vial— he’d only made enough for two this time due to his negligence toward his ingredients— he was started by an abnormal banging on his door. At first he merely flinched, believing it to be the storms’ rage, but he could not ignore it after noticing a pattern.

The moment his mind registered the sequence within the dulling taps, he realized what they truly were…

Tap. tap. tap.

Tap. tap. tap.

Tap. tap. tap.

Someone was knocking.

He hissed as he felt immeasurable heat seeping into his hand. It would seem the vial was full, now overflowing. Dealing with the feeling a little longer, he sealed the vile tight with a charmed cork to which only he could remove, before he finally set it on his working bench.

Rushing over to the various plants growing in the open, cracked floor in the left corner of the room, he plucked a ripe bud from a vine and squashed its insides onto the inevitable burn. It’s sure to leave a scar, Nicholas thought as he rushed to the door.

Taking a deep breath, the man yanked it open to reveal something— someone he would have never conjured up in his millennia of thoughts.

A woman was crouched against the steps of his home, holding herself up only by the frame. She was wheezing, and soaked in rain and sweat— no doubt from a ruthlessly growing fever—

“Please, help us.” She pleaded, her eyes finally meeting his as she struggled to stand, making Nicolas scramble to her side in order to help. “We have nowhere to go.”

Looking all around them, the awkward man couldn’t help as his voice wavered. “W-we? Is t-there s-someone ac-accompanying you?”

It was only until he had gotten her into the safety of his house that he noticed the way she was still hunched over, and the specks of blood tracing the end of her skirt.

“Have you been h-harmed? Are you injured?”

He was quick to lead her to a chair, ready to access whatever injuries she may have had. Yet, all he found was her belly swollen round and blood trailing down her legs.

“You’re pregnant— I-I mean of course you know that— I meant you’re in labor!” He said with encompassing worry.

“I’m sorry,” the woman whispered before letting out a pained groaned. “No one else would answer and you’re lamp was on—,”

Her words were cut off by her own screams. She gripped the chair arms tightly, clenching her teeth as more color drained from her face and water fell from her eyes.

“No, no, no,” the man repeated before standing up swiftly and moving around his home as fast as he could. “Don’t apologize! Just make sure to breathe! And I’ll…,” his voice trailed as he gathered as much as he could hold, “I’ll try to do my best in taking care of you.”

It’s not like I haven’t done this in a century, he thought to himself as he grabbed more blankets and water.

Flinging the pieces of cloth onto the floor he placed the buckets of water next to where they ended, before going back to the still weeping woman.

“I’m really sorry Mrs— Miss?? Ma’am you have to stand, it will be easier that way, I promise”

The woman nodded, taking his hands in hers in order to leverage herself up. They both took slow, heaved steps until finally reaching the covered ground, giving no thought to the trail she’s left behind. As he got a closer look at her, the woman could only be with the first years of her adulthood. Which only made the wizard’s heart ache more, for she had still not regained any color in her face, and after pressing a hand to her forehead— neither had her fever broke.

Although, he noticed that before he could say a word about remaining on her feet during the process, she had already squatted down as he would have instructed.

“Are you comfortable— I mean of course you’re not, what I mean is—,”

“I’m not laying on my back!” She wailed as more blood pooled below her. “It was a cruel custom made by a king who only wished women to suffer! And I will have no part in it.”

She breathed steadily after feeling the cool water against her temple, looking over to see the man dabbing her face with a cloth.

“Thank you,” she whimpered.

“You’re losing a lot of blood Miss.” Nicholas stated, knowing very well that the woman knew.

Her lip shook as she nodded, getting herself ready to push again. “She can’t die. She can’t—,”

“Okay, okay,” he soothed, “do what feels right, I’ll get something to help the pain alright? Or would you rather I stay here?”

Shaking her head, she pulled away from his grasp and leaned forward. “No, I’m okay!”

He wasted no time, scatting numerous bags, baskets, and vials. Until his eyes spotted that familiar sparkle, lit by the crackle of a fresh lightening bolt. Without a second thought, he grabbed it, yanked out the cork, and placed it inches from her face so she could see it clearly.

“It should save you both,” he said, words honestly unsure.

“Should?” She asked with a small scoff.

Letting a small smile adorn his face he nodded. “You’ll just have to trust me…more.”

Her eyes flickered, blinking instinctively as another bolt hit the ground not too far from the pair. And for a moment, she swore it changed into a color she had seen only once before; it’s complexion reminding her of something magical.

“Brilliant,” she simply said with a short nod, opening her mouth in compliance.

In any other instance, the alchemist would have wavered in his decision. Normally he’d be particular, perhaps even greedy with his creation, but this time… it was as if he need not think at all.

He simply watched as it poured into her mouth until gone, and then as a smile prickled at the woman’s now, red cheeks.

She let out a small laugh, taking Nicolas aback.

“It tastes of chocolate.”

Tilting his head to the side, he stared at her with confusion and amazement. If it weren’t for her swift change in composure, returning to a pained cry, he would have corrected her. For that was nowhere close to what he had tasted over the centuries of curating it.

They would stay in that position for what felt like hours, truly only being thirty minutes. The man did what he could, trying to ease her pain by whispering incantations under his breath, while holding his hands under in order to catch the precious cargo the woman held so dear. Just enough to give her strength. Just enough to help. Just till she arrived.

Surely enough, the moment the woman’s arms went limp, letting her body fall back with no care, the baby had come. Laying in the wizard’s hands, quiet as the night had become.

The storm had passed. And the baby wasn’t crying.

This cause the mother to spout more tears of her own, sobbing and reaching out for her child. He did not deny her, delicately placing the newborn into its mother’s hands.

Everything suddenly became so dark. The night outside was chilling and bare of light. And the mothers rejuvenation seemed to grow weaker by the second. Her dark hair now dry and dull with sullen cheeks accompanied by pail skin. She’d looked like a corpse if it weren’t for those purple hued eyes, which were brown at first if Nicolas’ memory ran true.

“Oh please baby, you have to live. Please.please.please.please. Merlin let her live.”

Eyes practically popping out of his scull, he stared at her in disbelief and sympathies. “Are you..?”

Shaking her head vigorously, the woman’s gaze flickered about the room, landing on a pair of scissors on the floor. “Could you please..?” She asked, a small sob leaving her lips as she caressed her child’s stomach.

Furrowing his eyebrows, he follows her gaze before understanding. “Oh! Oh, yes of course.” He scampered over, retrieving the tool.

He glanced over at her tired figure, treading lightly toward her. “Would you like to, or would you rather I?”

All she said in return was please. And the alchemist couldn’t help but feel his heart drop. Gently, he pulled on the cord and cut it clean.

At that very moment, he watched as light peered through his window, and he saw a twinkle of red flicker below him. The babies eyes fluttered open, and in the light of an unveiled moon, one shined a bright red while the other a deep brown.

He had grown absolutely elated in those few seconds. Laughing out loud to himself in disbelief, as he stared at the child who still refused to cry. He felt as if he had just witnessed a real miracle. Real magic.

But all magic has a price.

“Look! Look! She’s awake—,” he throat got tight as he choked on his words, seeing that now the woman’s eyes were indeed brown, staring right back at him as her head laid limp from her body. It was a wonder that the child hadn’t slipped off her breast, yet there she lay. Totally unaware. And so quiet.

Suddenly, Nicholas could not see, for water had purged his eyes. Welling up until a flood of tears streamed down his face, the man felt a wave of sorrow overcome him.

“Oh, you poor thing.” He whimpered, closing the woman’s eyes, and picking up the child who was staring at him with curiosity beyond any of his comprehension. “I’ll take it from here, you can rest.”

Sniffling, he cradled the child to his chest with one arm as he used the other to cast a spell— cleaning both the baby and the woman’s body before wrapping it in fresh linen. He had no idea what he should do with the body. Bury it? Burn it? What would she have preferred? Did she have family? Likely not the good kind.

Should he call the minister of magic? Definitely not.

The baby cooed, apparently entertained by something behind him. When he turned he practically jumped at the sight. Her hand was stretched out, and everything in front of them now that the moons light touch was dancing through the air.

He marveled at the child’s abilities, watching as she twirled her fingers in order to make the plants he had grow and dance with one another.

That very moment, as he stared at her, and she stared at the moon, Nicholas Flamel made a decision he would never regret.

He took the ladle resting in his cauldron, not bothering with the manners of a vial and drank from it. He felt as his joints loosened, how strength returned to his arms and legs, and new warmth was brought to his body.

And sure enough, it still tasted of lemons.

***

The girl know as abnormal in every sense would grow, learn, and adapt faster than any child Flamel had ever know. For a moment he worried that putting her in Hogwarts when she came of age would bore her, for she had practically learned everything on her own, or through his stories of history, and the never ending amount of books he had in his possession. But he gave in quickly after she begged him to allow her to go.

He never denied her.

So she went to Hogwarts, in 1892, for the first time, and made friends that would go down in history. Two of which she thought to be her kindred spirits.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

And

Gellert Grindelwald

But that was before they grew up, and she stopped.

Her soul and mind may have changed, but her body stayed for same. Trapped in time. In youth…

Until 1976 that is.

[monsieur-nicolas-de-lenfent]

The breeze was freezing cold but never cared to fly to that location. It is middle winter in this part of the world and I just went without an invitation. I didn’t care but I followed my instincts, my feelings, my gut. I wanted to see him to what invisible force calling me to do so. Will he accept to see me again? It was ok for me to go? I didn’t know the answer, I didn’t know the outcome, but I went either way.

It was still early when I have arrived, the house was quiet, I could not read his mind but I could sense his presence. His heartbeat. His always warm heartbeat even if he always said he had a dark heart. It was never dark to me.

Entering the room, he laid sleeping still. As I looked at him, as I approached carefully without making any sounds, my eyes fixed on him, memories rapidly passed by my mind but I had to erased them. The moment was now.

I stood by him contemplating him while was still asleep. His hair messy, his eyelashes dark, his eyes perfectly closed, his lips, no expression but yet giving so much strong power coming from his soul. All his has suffered , oh I knew , he was strong, strong at heart and soul. And why did I felt my heart racing? Why it still seemed like if we were two young men back in Auvergne at that single moment. I felt myself leaning forward and kissing his temple so gently that it was barely a touch. Cold lips against cold skin but i felt that connecting that never ceased in me.

I didn’t know if he would just get up suddenly and strangle me or threw me to the other side of the room or how he will react to my presence but i just did it no matter what. Bold move Lestat but the hell, I was listening to my gut. I was there because I still cared no matter the outcome. With his approval or not with his rage or not. I cared, I will always care.

I moved back up slowly waiting on his move, ready but not ready to whatever he will do, say or do to me now…

Always work. Keep himself useful, create, do something with his time, with his mind. There was a hollowness he couldn’t fill. An ache that threatened to cripple him constantly. Former demons had become new demons he had fashioned. Surrounded by souls but alone and that loneliness was becoming unbearable. Old and wise words echoed in his mind and Nicolas chose to close his soul and his mind because that ache that almost cost him his life could be light again. Aching and shielding that ache with fine Armani suits, poise and elegance. Musician, producer, it spilled effortlessly.

He forgot for a moment in which part of the world he chose to stay this time of years. Cold. Cold like those nights long ago. Only this time there weren’t warm arms wrapped around him, that laughter that could break the dark clouds and made him smile. Sun kissed kiss and the sun captured in those golden, silk locks.

He wrote, he pondered over sheets that needed to be attended to, urgent emails and more work he had laid on top of more work. The cold light of the laptop screen made the talon shape ring shine. A trinket saved from long ago, from a theatre and a life that seemed so long ago. Helping him dress and laugh about tiny details, looking around until that trinket rose to light and Nicolas put it on Lelio’s finger. The ring became his own, spilling blood until his hands had been taken and the ring seemed forever lost. Until, one day, it made its way back to him.

Nicolas didn’t realise he had fallen asleep. He had postponed going out and feeding until the dawn’s early light. The hunger cooked inside him as he stirred and kept his eyes closed, letting his dreams take him back to something that felt out of his reach.

Loneliness was their kind’s curse. He thought he could face loneliness. What a fool he had been.

Something…someone… Nicolas felt a press of gentle yet bold lips. A familiar smell and taste. A pull in his heart and veins and something in his soul beating faster. His eyes fluttered, hair he kept styled after the latest fashion, falling on his face.

“You’re here?” It might be the hunger. He idiotically let himself starve too focused in work and after so many years, he was imagining like in those dark years that Lestat was there. That he hadn’t head to his venomous words, that he had stayed and they eventually left that tomb in which he allowed himself to stay.

Dark eyes slowly opened to grasp the man before him. Dark blood flowing into his veins as well. He couldn’t read his mind, it didn’t matter. What human bond had been forged between their souls, the blood they now shared had broken.

“How?” Why, perhaps. After all this time, Nicolas thought Lestat had finally embraced hating him. He was too dark and he never wanted that darkness to spill into Lestat. That darkness always flew through him and he wouldn’t let Lestat be tainted by his darkness. And yet his soul yearned. Yearned the softness, the warmth, the touch, wrap his arms around him and let that fire take him.

Nicolas rubbed his face, trying to force back the ebbs of sleep and tiredness. He felt too human. Too weak “What time is it?” Lestat was before him, his kiss still burning on his temple. Like before. After all this time. His heart pounded in his chest, aching and yearning.