#Places to stay in Zurich

[adalindofcabinsix]

that kind of love never dies | chapter one

summary: the one where barbara thinks about an act of rebellion.

pairing: jake x mc

word count: 1.3K

warnings: tkolnd takes place after the events of episode 10; cover images found on pinterest; english is not my first language.

author’s note: even though she lives in the usa, my main character, barbara, is brazilian. i added terms and expressions that we use in our country, as well as cultural elements, to this fanfic. the words that appear in portuguese are highlighted and you can contact me if you have any questions.

masterlist

Barbara was sprawled out on the dorm carpet, reading a Lucy Maud Montgomery novel she found by chance in the university library, when her cell phone began vibrating on the nightstand. Without wasting time, she closed the book and got up, waiting to hear from her roommate, Meera, but, when Barbara swiped her finger across the lock screen, she found some text messages from an unknown number.

i would like to invite you again to eat something at that chinese restaurant

if you want to meet me, just show up there tomorrow

i'll be waiting for you :)

Her head started to throb just at the possibility of it being who she was imagining, but she quickly pushed the thought away.

Jake wouldn't put himself in danger like that.

After everything that happened in Grimrock, Duskwood's chief of police, Alan Bloomgate, personally went after her to conduct the interrogation, and, more than once, made it very clear that it was best for her to stay away from her new friends for a while. He didn't go into detail when he told her about what happened at the Ironsplinter Mine, but he confirmed that Richy was alive — despite having some serious injuries — and that Jake had fled from the FBI agents during the confusion caused by the explosion.

All the messages she sent and received during that time became evidence. Barbara had what it took to close Hannah Donfort's case literally in the palm of her hand, including the kidnapper's confession.

Consequently, she also had the means that could lead the people who were after Jake straight to him.

She was interrogated by the FBI countless times for months, until Alan decided to intervene and convinced her to hand over her cell phone to them in exchange for her old life. Since then, Barbara has not been part of the joint investigation. Or at least that's what they say — she's too smart to really believe that.

For a few seconds, she considered the chance that it was someone trying to play a trick on her. The video Lilly Donfort posted accusing her of kidnapping had gone viral across the Columbia University campus. Even her grandmother, who lived in the interior of Brazil, found out about her involvement with a hacker wanted by the North American government. However, no one else knew about the brief conversation they had about the chinese restaurant.

Except, of course, the FBI.

Without a doubt, it was a trap. Barbara felt her face turn red. It seemed that solving an old international murder case, giving up her privacy, being forced to abandon her group of friends and possibly cheating on the guy she was in love with was not enough. She also needed to act as bait when it was convenient.

Barbara huffed, irritated. Little did they know that Jake had no contact. Their partnership in crime had ended almost a year ago.

Still, there was no reason to decline the invitation. She could very well take advantage of the opportunity to tell some truths to those nosy agents, and as a bonus she would have an excuse to go to Germany without Alan being able to question her too openly.

Her lips lifted into a smile as the plan emerged in her mind.

After going through customs at Zurich Airport, picking up luggage and going to an exchange office to exchange some notes, only an hour and fifteen minutes by car separated Barbara from Duskwood. Luckily, there were several yellow taxis forming a line next to the sidewalk, because it would be a nightmare to have to deal with someone trying to compete for the same vehicle as her.

She walked out of the lounge, pulling her hot pink rolling suitcase, and turned on her smartphone to announce on the family's group chat that she had arrived safely. But before she could check her contact list to see if her parents were online, she collided with a young man's broad chest.

She jumped away from him, apologizing — or at least trying to — in german. He laughed softly, grabbing her arm to stop her from tripping over herself, and for a moment, Barbara forgot to even breathe. The young man seemed to be a few years older than her, he was tall, had dark hair and prominent round eyes that resembled the curve of a teardrop, he was wearing a white sweatshirt with a hood and black jeans.

“I'm sorry, I didn't see you.” He spoke in english, with a slight accent.

“No problem, it was my fault.” Barbara quickly straightened up, realizing that she had somehow stared too long.

The young man analyzed her from head to toe with amusement before bending down and picking up the cell phone that had flown out of her hand during the impact.

“I believe this is yours.” He joked, handing the device to her.

“Thank you.”

He nodded curtly and turned, making his way through the travelers entering and exiting the airport, as silent as a wraith.

She was inexplicably disappointed to see him leave, however she had more important things to deal with. Then, she handed the luggage to the driver to put in the trunk and got into the taxi, giving the address of the Gates Hotel, on the outskirts of Duskwood.

Barbara ran across the room, feeling the cold floor beneath her feet. She was considerably late, but as far as she remembered, she had never arrived on time to participate in the interrogations, so whoever was waiting for her at the restaurant wouldn't mind too much. She put on a black strapless dress, put on her highest heels and curled her wet hair with her fingers, leaving a small trail of water on the floor.

Through an opening in the peach curtains, she noticed that the rain had picked up outside, beating violently against the window pane. She cursed under her breath, hoping someone at the front desk could lend her an umbrella, and before Barbara could procrastinate her meeting with the FBI Special Agent any further, she took one last look at the floor mirror near the entrance hall, realizing that she was dressed for revenge.

“Someone would definitely approve of that.”

Smiling to herself, she went down a small flight of stairs to the ground floor, where the girl at the reception was reading a magazine with Nicholas Galitzine's photo on the cover.

“How can I help you?” She asked in english, without taking her eyes off the celebrity gossip.

“Hey, how you doin'? Could you lend me an umbrella, please?”

“Of course.” She said, reaching for the object under the counter and handing it to her. “A fee of two euros will be added to your room bill.” Barbara sighed, surprised, as she mentally converted the currency. “What?” The receptionist looked up, frowning. “Did you think it would be free?”

“No, obviously not.” Barbara lied, smiling politely.

“Return it by midnight or I will have to charge the full value of the item.” The girl announced, turning her attention to the magazine. Then she added: “Nice dress.”

“Okay, I'll pay when I check out.” She assured, walking towards the glass doors while opening her rented umbrella. “And thank you.”

“Have fun, Cinderella!”

Barbara regretted walking out the door as soon as she set foot on the sidewalk. Not just because of the rain, but because of the wind blowing your hair back. In any case, she had come too far to give up, and despite the storm, she could see the lights of the chinese restaurant through the blue haze a few meters ahead, on the other side of the street.

Before she could take another step, someone grabbed her arm and turned her around.

“What?” She blinked in amazement at the handsome young man she had met at the airport.

“Come with me.” He said, pulling her away from the hotel entrance.

“You are crazy? I do not know you!” Barbara shouted, dropping the umbrella near her feet. The rain completely drenched them both in moments. “Me solta!”

“Barbara, please.” He asked, breathing short.

The sadness in his voice stopped her struggling.

“How do you…?” She gasped, eyes wide. “Jake?”

taglist: @daniiiworlds; @labemquarts; @deinily

[laurenairay]

felt like magic - N. Hischier

Summary: Nico has been pining for years – maybe this summer is a chance to finally do something about his feelings for you.

I’m jumping in as a pinch-hitter as part of @wyattjohnston's summer fic exchange 2k24, with a Nico Hischier story for @selfindulgentpoorlywritten! I really hope you enjoy this – I had a lot of fun creating something from the prompts you gave me. And who doesn’t love Summer Nico?

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: pining, childhood friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, some bad language

Title (and song lyrics) from Caffeine, by Jack Kays

~

Stay with me, If it’s not our time then will you wait for me? I know that we’re young, but this is destiny I couldn’t be me without you, without you

~

Travelling from Bern to Zurich wasn’t something you’d do for just anyone. An hour and a half driving across the country, surrounded by drivers who were just as impatient to get through their journeys as you were? Not your idea of fun. At least the destination was more than worth it.

“Happy birthday Jonas!”

The man in question turned around at the sound of your voice, a big grin sliding onto his face.

“You made it, liebling! Thanks for coming!” Jonas said happily.

It wasn’t every year that you got to celebrate the birthday of one of your favourite people – early May wasn’t exactly the most consistent time of year for hockey players after all. And the last thing you wanted to do was remind him of the early end to his season. So when Jonas had called you to say that he was hosting a birthday party at his house in Zurich and invited you to spend the weekend, there was no way you were saying no.

“As if I’d miss the event of the summer,” you teased.

Jonas just beamed at you.

“Schatzi! You survived the A1!”

You peered around Jonas’s broad shoulders to see another one of your favourite people – Nico. It was through Nico, one of your childhood best friends – that you’d met Jonas in the first place so you should’ve guessed that he wouldn’t be too far away. Usually you would’ve made the journey with Nico, both of you coming from Bern after all, but he’d already been visiting in Zurich so you’d been stuck with a solo trip this time.

And damn did he look good. It wasn’t something that you let yourself think about often, being just his friend, but Nico was genuinely one of the most handsome people you’d ever seen, let alone become good friends with. It wouldn’t do you any good to travel down that road of thoughts though, so you were always careful to nip those feelings in the bud. You were friends. Great friends. Incredible friends, and that’s how it was always going to be.

“I’m here,” you mused, “had to greet the birthday boy before anyone else.”

“Yeah don’t be jealous,” Jonas teased.

Interestingly, Nico blushed slightly and glared at the taller man, before clearing his throat. “Can I get you a drink?”

“I’ll grab something myself in a minute, but thank you,” you said, smiling sweetly, “Let me just give Jonas his birthday present first.”

You handed over the thick envelope, Jonas eagerly ripping into it, making you laugh softly.

“Oh shit, you’re the best,” Jonas gasped.

“And don’t you forget it,” you teased.

“What did you get?” Nico asked, curious.

“A tattoo voucher. Far more than enough to cover the gap fillers I’ve been looking at getting. This is amazing, thank you, this is way too generous,” Jonas explained, looking gratefully at you.

“You’re welcome. I know you’ve been talking about filling the spaces for a while,” you shrugged.

While you didn’t have any tattoos of your own, you knew how Nico and Jonas felt about their own tattoos, and how much they meant to them – it was an easy decision.

“Are we ever going to get you into a tattoo chair, hm?” Nico teased.

“Maybe if I have someone holding my hand,” you teased back, trying to fight the giddy heat rising to your cheeks.

His lips parted slightly in shock, speechless for once, Jonas just cackling at his response.

“And on that note, I’m going to go say hi to Andreas and Julia. See you both later?” you grinned.

“Yeah, see you liebling,” Jonas nodded.

Nico just nodded, cheeks aflame. His silence was a bit concerning – he wasn’t exactly one to be shy or awkward, especially not around you – but you knew Jonas would figure out whatever was going on with him. Hopefully.

~

“So that was smooth,” Jonas mused.

“Shut up,” Nico groaned.

“No really, that was one of your best efforts,” Jonas snickered.

“You’re the worst,” Nico shot back.

He ran a hand through his hair, watching you walk across the backyard with a confidence he wished he had. There was just something about you that had always reduced him to feeling like a hapless fool, ever since he’d first moved to Bern as a teenager and met you within the first few weeks of living there. You’d been a constant feature in his life for 10 years now, always there with a wide smile and open arms whether it was in Bern, Zurich, or New Jersey, and he didn’t know what he would do with his life if you weren’t in it.

Nico was head over heels in love with you, and you had no idea.

Everyone else in his life knew how he felt for you, obviously, not just Jonas. His parents, his siblings, even Jack had figured it out within an hour of your first visit to New Jersey all those years ago. If Jack Hughes of all people could read it off his face then he didn’t know how much more obvious he could be – other than actually telling you with words, of course.

But how could he say anything to you, when he knew for certain that you didn’t feel the same way?

~

“Are you sure your billet family don’t mind us being down here?”

Nico smiled down at you, shaking his head. The two of you were down in the basement where his billet family’s entertainment room was, the rest of the house having gone out for the night, and Nico had invited you round for a movie night. He’d only been in Bern for a few weeks, and you were the only non-hockey friend he’d made so far, so he hadn’t hesitated to invite you over to get to know you better.

There was just something about you that made him want to put in the effort

“They really don’t mind. They even left us money for takeout,” he insisted.

“Oh, well alright then. What are we watching first?”

The evening flew by, pizza ravenously consumed between movies, the two of you shifting closer and closer on the sofa until you were fully leaning up against each other, Nico’s hockey bulk giving you a solid pillow to rest on. He didn’t mind it at all, if he was being honest with himself, although he wasn’t quite sure what that meant.

“That was so terrible though! They had no chemistry at all!” you giggled as the credits rolled.

“I guess not all actors are going to like kissing everyone they work with,” Nico snickered.

Even in the dim light of the room, he noticed the heat that rushed to your cheeks.

“What?” Nico frowned.

“It’s nothing,” you said, shaking your head quickly.

He might not know you that well yet, but he knew that was a lie.

“Come on, tell me what’s wrong?” he prompted.

“You’re going to think I’m stupid.”

“We’re 15 years old – everything we do is stupid,” Nico pointed out.

You huffed out a laugh, breath a little shaky. “I was just thinking about the fact that I wouldn’t know what it was like.”

“What what was like?” Nico asked, confused.

“To kiss someone,” you all but whispered.

His lips parted in surprise, not expecting those words to fall from your lips, and you immediately grimaced.

“See I told you it was stupid,” you groaned.

As you shifted to move away from him, Nico instinctively gripped your shoulder, not letting you go. You startled but looked up at him, staying silent in confusion.

“It’s not stupid. Not everyone has had their first kiss. You’re only 15,” he murmured.

“You’ve kissed someone though?”

Nico bit his bottom lip but nodded. He’d had multiple kisses, all harmless, all essentially meaningless, he wasn’t ashamed to admit it. Kissing was fun – he always liked the way it made his heart race with adrenaline.

And it was the memory of that feeling that fuelled his bravery.

“I could kiss you, if you want?”

“What?”

He took a steadying breath, before nodding. “I could kiss you. So you have a good first kiss, with a friend.”

There was nothing worse than doing something scary for the first time only to have someone make you feel like an idiot. If Nico could stop that feeling for you, then he absolutely would.

“Are you sure?” you said hesitantly, “You really don’t have to.”

“Of course I am,” he said, smiling to reassure you.

He could feel how fast your heart was beating as he rested a hand on the side of your neck, echoing the beating of his own heart. You closed your eyes as he leaned down towards you, making him smile slightly before he pressed his lips to yours. As he slowly kissed you, he could feel how hesitant and nervous you were, but as you continued to kiss him back he didn’t regret his offer for a moment. Nico kissed you over and over and over again, almost feeling dizzy with how the embrace was consuming him, his thumb stroking over your jaw as you melted into his arms. This was heaven. This was bliss. This was everything he didn’t realise he’d wanted.

After what felt like hours, but could only have been a few moments, you pulled away from the kiss. Nico made a soft noise of protest, opening his eyes to see you looking stunned, lips as swollen as his felt.

“Schatzi,” he managed to murmur.

You just bit your bottom lip, smiling softly, before leaning backwards out of his hands. He tried not to frown, not understanding why his heart was pounding, even though you didn’t look mad.

“I should probably get home. My parents will be wondering where I am by now,” you said, voice quiet, almost as if you were still a little in shock.

Nico glanced at the clock on the wall, grimacing at the late hour. Where had the time gone? Did you really have to leave, after a kiss like that?

“O-Okay, if you’re sure. Text me when you get back safe?”

“I will. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, tomorrow.”

~

After that kiss 10 years ago, the two of you had never spoken about it again. The morning after you’d acted like nothing had ever happened, and Nico had been too nervous to say anything to risk losing the blossoming friendship. He knew now that it was his first experience of heartbreak, as youthful and innocent as that had been – and he also knew that’s when he’d first started having feelings for you. What was meant to have been a friend helping out another friend had started a decade of unrequited feelings, and it was far too late for him to say anything now.

He could only hold on to the incredible friendship that had grown between the two of you with both hands. If this was all he could ever have then he was going to cherish it, no matter how what Jonas said.

“Come on bud, let’s get you a drink,” Jonas said, smiling sadly.

Nico huffed out a laugh but nodded. “Yeah, I think I’m going to need one.”

~

Hours passed by, drinking, eating, catching up with friends and making new ones, until the evening was late and only the last few straggling partygoers were making their way out of the house. You’d volunteered to start cleaning up while Jonas said goodbye to his guests, needing something to do after a long day of socialising. You were making good progress on cleaning up the empty food containers and empty drink bottles when Nico wandered into the living room, holding out a bottle of water for you.

“Looks like thirsty work,” he grinned, leaning against the arm of the sofa.

“Thanks, you should try it some time,” you teased, taking the bottle from him.

You unscrewed the cap and took a couple of long gulps with your head tilted back, needing the refreshment more than you thought, but when you put the cap back on the bottle, you noticed Nico staring at you transfixed.

“What?” you frowned, “Did I spill some water?”

“No, no, it isn’t that,” he said quickly, cheeks heating.

Why was he blushing? What was going through his mind?

“Then what is it?” you prompted, putting the bottle down on the table.

“It’s just…I was thinking about…well…”

“Yes?” you prompted again, a soft smile on your face at his awkwardness.

“It wouldn’t take a tattoo for me to hold your hand,” he blurted out.

“What?”

What was he talking about…oh. Oh. What?

“Wait, shit, no, that came out wrong…”

Nico trailed off with a groan, punctuated only by the sound of a snort. You whirled around to see Jonas standing in the doorway, and he cackled at the look on both your faces.

“Yeah I’m going upstairs. Have fun dealing with your years of feelings,” Jonas grinned, shaking his head.

Oh damn. Jonas knew?

Wait, years of feelings?

With that he left you and Nico alone, a murmur suspiciously sounding like ���lovestruck idiots’ lingering behind him. Hesitantly you looked back at Nico to see his face full of embarrassment, cheeks tinged with red.

“What was Jonas talking about?” you asked, voice a little shaky.

Because you were damn sure that Jonas didn’t know a thing about how you felt for Nico. So he had to be talking about Nico…which only succeeded in sending your heart into a flutter.

“This was not how I wanted it all to come out,” he murmured.

“Nico, please. No more talking in circles,” you all but begged.

He inhaled shakily but nodded, finally looking you in the eyes once more. “I’ve loved you ever since the movie night where we kissed.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “That was 10 years ago, Nico. We were 15! You’ve loved me since then?”

Ten long years.

“I know,” he winced, “But yes, since then.”

“You never said anything?” you said hesitantly.

Not about the kiss, and not about his feelings.

“You didn’t either? I mean, like, we never talked about the kiss. At all. I just assumed you didn’t say anything because you regretted it, and there was no way I wanted to lose you as a friend,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Of all the things he could’ve said.

“I thought you regretted it,” you admitted, “You were this up-and-coming hockey star, and I was just the neighbour down the street.”

Nico burst out laughing, hands rising to cover his face briefly.

“We’re both idiots,” he managed to choke out between laughs, “maybe me more than you.”

Maybe.

Maybe you both were idiots, but that didn’t mean you had to waste any more time. If Nico really wanted to try being more than friends, you weren’t about to stop him.

“Hey Nico?” you said, reaching forward to place a hand on his chest.

You could feel the heat of his skin through his shirt, the rapid beat of his heart, but it was the hope in his eyes that gave you courage.

“Yes, schatzi?”

“It’s been a long ten years…kiss me again?”

Nico’s only response was to do as you’d asked.

~

I’m sitting patiently, Hoping for the day to come where you can see, All the stars, they fall in line for you and me, I can’t wait for you to see too, yes, you’ll do.

[bellysoupset]

Hey soup. Can I get a sick Leo caretaker Luke. Maybe he has a very upset stomach and he gets sick from both ends if that’s ok. And him being embarrassed but Luke comforting him.

Despite the fact that he didn't get airsick, Leo chalked it up to that when he started feeling queasy an hour out of San Francisco's airport. It was probably nerves, he missed Jonah already.

True to their agreement, Jonah had stayed behind with Angie so they could live their two weeks of exploring Europe together and Leo had gone back home. Part of Leo was proud of their relationship, but a smaller, meaner part was simply jealous. He squashed those feelings down, Jon was over the moon hanging out with his sister and that was what mattered most.

There was a young lady sitting to his side, knocked out, and Leo pressed his forehead to the plane's wall, looking out of the window and trying to ignore the uneasy feeling in his stomach and how suffocated he felt. He wanted out of this sardine's can, but the thought of landing wasn't as reassuring as one would think. Landing meant having to stay up and in line, then wait to get his luggage, finding Luke... It just sounded tiring.

Leo's belly let out a loud, whiny noise and his cheeks turned red as he instinctively wrapped an arm around it, glancing nervously to the girl sitting next to him. She didn't even stir.

He leaned forward, leg bouncing up and down as a cramp squeezed his lower tummy and caused cold sweat to spring up. Another angry gurgle and Leo hastily undid his seatbelt, then glanced worriedly at the woman, trying to sneak past her knees without waking her up.

It was a bigger hassle than needed, but he felt a victorious rush when he managed to squeeze and jump over her, only for his middle to remind him why he was standing in the first place by letting out another disgusting whine.

Leo shuffled down the hallway to the bathroom in the back, mentally cursing his luck. The flight from Zurich had been 15 hours long, with a small stop in San Francisco and Leo couldn't believe he had survived 14 hours, only to succumb to illness in the last stretch of the trip.

His intestines seized and he rocked while sitting on the toilet, gulping down the sticky saliva and bouncing his leg in a nervous, crampy way. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the burning on them and feeling ridiculous for wanting to cry over something so silly as an upset stomach.

Once he felt more of less done, intestines not cramping as much, but definitely much more nauseous than before, Leo took his time washing his hands and face and crawling back to his seat. The woman was now awake and she threw him a startled look, but said nothing about Leo's paleness.

Lucas was standing at the end of the disembark area, holding a cardboard sign that said "Mr. Wagner" in bold, ridiculous letters and Leo could've cried from relief as he saw his friend. He was sure his mental and physical state showed on his face, because Luke's million bucks smile slipped and he frowned, lowering the sign.

"Hey- Everything o-OH okay, okay," Luke interrupted himself as Leo promptly tackled him with a hug. Lucas' was a good handful of inches taller than the blonde and Leo melted against him without a thought.

Unlike Jonah or Leo himself would've done, Luke didn't pull back at all, happy to just hug for however long Leo needed him to, but unlike Vince who'd have read him immediately, Luke still had to ask "did you and Jon fight? What's going on?"

"No," Leo shook his head, pulling back, "no, we're fine. In fact I should text him, let him know I landed."

"Good idea," Luke nodded sagely, "before he calls Interpol thinking your plane got kidnapped or something."

Leo offered him a small smile at the joke, leaning forward to he could press his forehead to Luke's shoulder as he got his phone out of his dark crossbody bag, "I feel like crap."

"Airsick?" Luke asked, sympathy coloring his words and Leo shook his head, wiping his sweaty fingers on his pants.

"No," his stomach let out a gurgle, but the airport noise drowned it out, "either I got food poisoning in San Francisco or I caught a bug, but my tummy feels gross."

Over his head, Luke let out a little amused huff at his wording, "do you need to use the bathroom? I can go ahead and take your luggage to the car, I'm in the parking lot."

"Already did," Leo's cheeks were burning with embarrassment, he had no idea how Lucas talked so openly about things, "I really just wanna go home. See my cat."

Leo texted Jonah a quick, "at the airport, call u when I get home. Love you" and pocketed his phone, rubbing his hands over his face tiredly as Luke said:

"JD has been an angel," he grabbed Leo's bag and turned it to the side to carry it, despite the thing having wheels, starting to lead their way, "I got a bunch of videos and pictures, Bella really didn't want to give her back."

"I wanna see the videos," Leo opened a genuine smile, "and why don't you and Bell get a pet anyway? It's not like you don't like animals. If Jon can do it, you can do it."

Luke snorted at the line, before shrugging, "no space, our place is too cramped."

"Oh yeah, forgot you're roleplaying as poor," Leo needled, rolling his eyes and causing Luke to wrinkle his nose at him, green eyes sparkling as if he was considering between a nice or a mean response.

He clearly settled for the former, "it's what Bell's paycheck can comfortably afford and she doesn't want my name on the lease, man. Happy wife, happy life."

"That was nearly two years ago," Leo vouched, happy to have anything but the gross feeling in his stomach to focus on. He could feel the churning inside picking up and his arms were covered with goosebumps, "she was rightfully paranoid thanks to the break up. You guys are married now, have you talked with her about it?"

Luke chewed on his bottom lip, in that way he did when he knew he had oversighted something but wasn't ready to admit it, "No? Whatever, it's not that big of a deal."

Leo let out a scoff, then groaned as they stepped out of the airport and he realized it was a chilly night, the cold breeze causing him to shudder.

Lucas paused, not commenting, but side stepping so they weren't right in front of the exit. He waited patiently as Leo took a measured breath, blowing it out through his mouth and wiped the sweat collecting over his lip.

After a minute, Leo nodded, so Luke raised a thumbs up, "you good?"

"Yeah," Leo started to walk, although he had no idea where Luke had parked, but soon the other man followed him and started to guide the way, "talk to me, take my mind off of this."

"What exactly is this?" Lucas squinted at him, all but bouncing on his feet, fiddling with his car keys. Leo never ceased to be amused by his friend's inability to stand still.

"I feel like I'm gonna barf," Leo cleared up, now that they were out of people's earshot, "and I might have a fever? Can't tell."

Without any hesitation, Luke smacked his hand against Leo's forehead, nearly hitting him with the keys. He tsked, "I don't think so, you're just clammy."

"Great," Leo grimaced as another cramp hit him, "so it's just food poisoning," he should be thankful, food poisoning meant it'd be over sooner rather than later, but Leo wasn't feeling very positive at the moment and his words came out covered in sarcasm.

Lucas snorted at Leo's clear bitterness and grabbed his shoulder, pushing him ahead and soon enough they reached Luke's dark green jeep. He put Leo's luggage in the trunk, then hesitated, chewing on his lip, "Do you want to drive? So you don't get carsick on top of it?"

"No," Leo shook his head, already walking towards the passenger side, "I'm too queasy to pay attention to the road."

"Alright, just let me know when to pull over," Luke shrugged, bouncing to his side. Not if, but when, Leo noted, entering the car and tipping his head back with a groan.

"Tell me about Europe," Lucas asked, starting to drive out, "how was everything? Jackie? Matteo?"

"It was lovely," Leo lowered his window despite the chilly night, "Matteo is super nice, I really liked him."

"He is, isn't he?" Luke smiled brightly, "too nice for Jackie."

"Nah," Leo shook his head, smiling to himself, "I love Jackie, she's so unapologetic snotty. She's herself in every occasion, I never feel like she's being nice to me just because it's polite."

Luke let out a humm and Leo squinted at him in the dark car, "What?"

"Nothing!" Luke's voice was teasing, he was clearly smiling, "nothing, nothing- Just makes you wonder why you're head over heels with Jon, uh?"

"Oh, shut up," Leo scoffed, shoving Luke's arm and then staring ahead, to the cars coming the opposite way in the two way, "Jonah was so relaxed in Switzerland..."

Before he could further elaborate in this insecurity, Luke flicked at his ear, not taking his eyes from the road, "don't go there, Leo. The guy is on vacation, of course he's relaxed. But no one can live on vacation mode, you're not being fair to yourself or with him either."

"Yeah, I guess..." Leo rubbed at his chest, uneasily and startled himself when it brought up a sudden burp. He rushed up his hand to muffle it, a second too late, but Luke didn't seem bothered in the least.

Lucas kept his eyes on the road, so Leo leaned slightly forward, wrapping his arms around his belly and rocking on his seat as a new wave of nausea washed over him. He felt so warm. He gulped down nervously and jerked as he felt a gentle touch to his elbow. Luke was holding out a bottle of water.

"Thanks..." Leo mumbled, taking a small sip and forcing himself to swallow it. It rid his mouth of the sickening sweet saliva, but did nothing to the sloshy feeling inside his belly.

"Do I need to pull over?" Luke asked, reaching blindly so he could plant a hand on Leo's trembling back. The blonde hesitated, then nodded.

"Yeah, think so..." he grimaced as his belly churned once again and he could just taste the small snack - cookies! - he had had in the San Francisco airport, "I'm sorry, I'm being such a hassle."

"You're not a hassle, you're sick, it happens," Lucas' voice was dripping with understanding, but it only made Leo want Jonah more. He hated being sick, but it was particularly bad when he was missing his fiancé.

Luke turned up the warning lights and it took a while more before he was able to safely pull over. As soon as he did, Leo unbuckled the seatbelt and leaned out the passenger side, not even making it fully out before he retched.

He didn't bring up anything, but his whole body convulsed and the blonde let out a pained moan, clutching the door as a new wave of repulsion washed over him. His stomach squeezed once more and Leo let out a groan in the back of his throat, spitting in the dust shoulder and breathing heavily against the ill feeling.

"Leo?"

He didn't answer, only shook his head no, as if to say he wasn't nowhere near done. That seemed to do the trick, because halfway through the gesture another burp snuck up on him and he coughed up a mouthful of foul vomit.

Leo felt Luke's hand in the middle of his back, not rubbing, more like a steadying weight and he tried to focus on it, but it was to no avail. His stomach rolled once more and Leo would've fallen out of the door with a heave, wasn't it for Luke clutching the back of his shirt.

He coughed and spat, letting out a groan when finally the pain in his belly seemed to diminish.

"Leo, kid, you alright?" Lucas asked, squeezing his nape gently and Leo nodded, using the door to sit back in his seat.

"That sucked," he grumbled, his voice shot and Luke chuckled softly, passing him the water bottle.

"You feel better, though?"

"A bit," Leo swished the water around, spitting it out and then taking a tentative little sip. When his belly didn't immediately fight it, he shut the door and leaned his head back, hearing as Luke started the car back up.

In truth, Luke really didn't need Leo's input in order to have a conversation and Leo opened a small smile as he was able to clam up and just listen as his best friend started to talk to fill in the silence. It was so funny to him how Luke's track of thinking worked, how he jumped from one subject to the other and then to another without finishing either.

"You have ADHD," Leo yawned, as he saw the Welton sign appear in the horizon. He felt dizzy and clammy and desperately wanted a shower and his bed.

Luke let out a small offended noise, "no, I don't!"

"Did you get tested for it?" Leo turned slightly to look at him and saw Luke do that lip chewing thing he did, "thought so. I bet you fifty."

"Fuck off," Lucas grumbled, drumming his finger against the steering wheel, "do you want me to stop at a pharmacy first?"

"No," Leo curled up, wincing as his belly let out a growl loud enough that even Luke heard, judging by the way his eyebrows went up, "you're staying the night, right?"

He felt incredibly childish even asking that and it went against everything in him. Every molecule in Leo's body told him not to ask for company or help, but this was Luke... And Leo really didn't want to be all alone in his and Jonah's apartment for the first night, however ridiculous that seemed.

"Yeah, Bell's at Wendy's, I'm all yours," Luke shrugged, not bothered in the least, "she said they're doing something with her hair, which is always a terrible idea and means she's going to ruin her beautiful curls-"

Leo dozed off as he heard his best friend continue to ramble on.

He woke up in the parking lot of his building, with Luke shaking him awake gently. The blonde let out a groan, then opened a small, secret smile as he felt Luke wrapping his arm around his shoulder and hugging him by the waist, all but pulling him up.

He sunk against Luke's side and pressed his face to the man's arm, knees feeling weak and stomach far from settled, embarrassment causing his face to burn as they entered the elevator and his belly let out an upset growl.

"Leo?"

"I'm fine," he yawned, not opening his eye and then sighing happily as he felt Luke hug him slightly, "you're comfy."

"Oh yeah?" Lucas sounded smug as hell and Leo scoffed, but didn't move away, too comfortable to care.

[ladylooch]

Bones - Part 5 - [Mack x David]

A/N: I want to say big, huge thank you to @wardlow and @casualhilarity for being so supportive and kind when I asked them if they would read the first 5 chapters of the series for me. I was really struggling on if this was good, flowing, made sense etc. Both of you showed up for me, even though you're so busy, and gave great feedback! I love you soooo much! A million forehead smooches to you! I could not have gotten through these first few parts without you both 💜

& I have to shout out my favorite little sister, @missjomarch. Part of this angst was your idea in the making. You little writer you 😘 I love you! Thank you for dreaming about these two with me.

Okay, now, without further ado.... let's get into it 🔥

Word Count: 5.0k

Silence.

Not even the hum of the refrigerator or a chirping bird to break it. It’s too heavy, blanketed in fresh snow and the stillness of the morning after a big storm. 

Inside her family’s cabin, Mack slowly brings a cup of fresh, hot coffee to her lips. She stares out the window, ignoring her blurry reflection in the glass. The pines are practically bent in half from all the snow the area has seen this winter. Normally, she may have been hesitant about driving into the Alps alone in these conditions, but nothing about now is normal. 

Mack shakes her head, trying not to think about the circumstances that brought her here. Or how she walked into JFK three days ago with a ticket bound for Ireland, but didn’t get on that plane. Instead she transferred it to a one way ticket to Zurich then rented a car to get up here without disturbing her parents. Although with the security cameras on the cabin, they know she is here. 

Everything okay? Her mom had texted her.

Yeah. Just need a break and some solitude. 

Okay. Love you 😘 

One corner of the blanket across her shoulders falls down to her elbow. Mack grabs it, putting it back into place and curling more into herself. Nothing about the cabin is cold. It’s modern and fancy with high end heating elements, but it is no match for the chill of a broken heart. 

A lump forms in Mack’s throat.

What the hell did she do?

She should call him. She should apologize immediately, but her limbs and fingers won’t move. They won’t grab the phone to her left and press his name to ring across the world. The muscles of her face can’t possibly move her mouth, and her brain is blank for the words she should say to him. 

But Mack knows exactly what happened, an 8 hour plane ride helped her quickly realize it.

She got scared. Plain and simple.

It was too good. All of it. To the point that the darkness in the corners of her brain lured her into the comforting old habit of being the one who cares less. Her deep seeded beliefs that she doesn’t need anyone to live on this earth. Survival depends on your ability to exist alone and she could feel herself depending on him.

She broke all of her rules for him- she dated him, fell in love with him, spent weeks on his farm, turned down assignments. Then the trade rumors swirled and he acted like they didn’t exist when her whole world was turned upside down with the what ifs. What if he left New York? What would she do? But David's silence made it seem so simple. She would go with him. And when it came to the next steps he was starting to talk about, and want, Mack couldn’t do it. She liked the way things were and him wanting more is a need Mack doesn’t believe she can provide for him.

Because he deserves so much better than this. Wasn’t that what she was trying to show him by leaving? Look at how much better your life is when I’m not in it. Simple. No one running across the world, chasing after who knows what. He deserved someone who would follow him anywhere and put roots down. That’s not her.

It can’t be her. 

But when he came barreling into his apartment, looking at her like she was shredding his hearts to pieces, she almost faltered. She almost stayed. And that reaction scared her more than anything else did. It was a blimp, but she could see herself in Seattle or fucking Dallas. For him. But what is in those cities for her? Is that who she is now? 

No. 

No matter how much she loves him, she can’t do it this way.

Mack jolts up from the chair, shaking away these thoughts. She is done with this merry-go-round of nothing. She has work to do.

Later in the morning, Mack is deep in rewriting her next piece for the magazine when a loud pop jolts her away from her computer screen. She smacks her ankle on the leg of the table, yowling out in pain. Then she whips her head towards the front door where the sound came from. She glares in frustration until the reality of how alone she really is out here settles in. What was that? She gets up, tiptoeing over towards the door with her blanket flowing like a cape behind her. She looks out at the U shaped drive way, seeing her dad pulling out a Louis Vuitton duffle bag from his shiny Mercedes. 

Mack’s grip on the blanket tightens.

Her mom did not believe her. If she did, she wouldn’t have sent in the big guns.

Mack sighs, then unlocks the door, opening it for her dad as he steps on the porch.

“Mom sent me.” He shrugs then greets her with a hug. “But also I wanted to come. Lucie called.”

Lucie. Fuck. In Mack’s haste to leave New York, and David, she didn’t think about her older sister. David must have told her. Guilt pierces her thoughts again. Lucie is going to be so angry with her. Connor too. This is why she should have never started down this road to begin with.

“Oh.” Mack responds blankly to her dad.

“We don’t have to talk about it.” Her dad assures her. Mack nods in agreement, looking down as a sting fills her eyes. 

Nico walks into the cabin behind her, setting his duffle bag on the couch. Mack touches two fingers to the corners of her eyes, collecting the wetness there discreetly.

“Um, there is still coffee in the carafe over there.”

“No, thanks. I got some on the drive up.”

Mack nods, then pads over to the chair in the living room. Her dad takes the couch, stretching out his long legs onto the coffee table. He crosses his feet at his ankles, then laces his fingers at the back of his head. 

“How is work?” Mack shrugs. Probably not good considering she didn’t get onto the flight she agreed to be on. She did text Sonja that a family emergency was calling her home to Switzerland and received an instant response for her to take all the time she needed. “Lucie seemed to think you were going to Ireland?”

“I was.” Mack acknowledges. She reaches up to her nose, scratching a non-existent itch to avoid his gaze.

“Ah, she is a true Swiss girl. She traded luck for snow.” He chuckles. Mack smiles at his corny attempt to make her laugh, then curls her legs tighter up onto the chair. She swallows hard, looking at the fireplace embers blackened from last night's fire.

“I just… couldn’t go.” She whispers. Her bottom lip is scraped into her mouth by her top teeth before she sighs. She meets his patient gaze again. “What did Lucie tell you?” Mack asks. His arms cross over his chest.

“That you left for Ireland on an assignment after breaking things off with David.” Mack drops her gaze back to the cream carpet. “Is that true?” Mack nods. “I’m sorry, sweets.” He murmurs. “Will you tell me what happened?”

Shame fills Mack’s throat as she assumes her dad means ‘what did David do?' Because nothing. All he did was fall in love with a scared and timid woman, who ran at the first real sign of trouble. How can she tell her dad the truth? How could he not be extremely disappointed in her?

“I fucked up.” She chokes through a sob. Her bottom lip trembles like the breath she sucks in. This admission surprises her as much as her father who raises his thick eyebrows. She begins to pant heavily, trying to suck in big breaths to stop crying. “He is perfect and I am a mess.” 

“Mack, you are the furthest thing from a mess.” He assures her. He opens his right arm out towards the empty couch cushion next to him. Mack gets up and folds herself into his body, sighing into his chest as more tears fall down her face.

“He’s never going to forgive me for this. He shouldn’t. I deserve whatever happens after this.” Mack closes her eyes, letting herself be comforted by her dad’s hands wrapping around her back. She sniffs. “I got scared. It all felt so good. So perfect. And this monster inside of me flipped the table when rumors started about him being traded. He never told me anything about them, but kept like making plans for us and this wasn’t supposed to be anything like what it was. We were just supposed to…” She trails off. 

“Hang out?” Her dad fills in. 

“Yeah.” 

“Baby, nothing about what mama and I saw when we were in New York was hanging out.” He rubs her back comfortingly. “You are in love with each other. I can’t imagine that all could have blown up in a few weeks, or because of some rumors.”

“No, it didn’t.” She shakes her head. “I wrapped dynamite around it and blew it up instead because I don’t know how to be in love like that. And I don’t think I wanna be.” 

“You don’t want to be with someone who loves you? Mack?”

Mack pauses, then pulls away to look at his face.

“What?”

“You don’t know how to be in love like that, so you blew it up because you don’t want to be in love?” He rephrases. Mack still looks confused. Is her reasoning that wild or does she not understand what he is saying? “Did you talk to David about any of this before you strapped the dynamite to it?” 

“No.” She shakes her head. Bigger tears fill her eyes. “Why do you make it sound so simple?”

“Because I’ve been in love with your mom for almost 30 years. I’ve had some practice.” He removes a slice of hair from her wet cheek. “Don’t beat yourself up. You’ll figure out more of this as you go through life with him.” Mack’s bottom lip wobbles.

“No. He’s… never going to forgive me. You didn’t see his face. He tried to talk to me. He tried to save us and I wouldn’t let him.”

“Sweets, this all comes down to a simple conversation. Get on the same page. If you don’t want to move if he gets traded, say that. Or if you want to go with him, say that. Give him the opportunity to meet you where you are, so you can grow together into the next stage.”

“He deserves better than someone who is unsure.”

“You don’t get to decide that for him.” His reminder is gentle but deeply true. “He does.” Mack nods, looking down at where her tears have splotched into his gray sweatshirt. “You do get to decide for yourself if this is what you need though. It’s okay if he is perfect, and loves you the way that you deserve, and you still don’t want it right now.” Mack starts to cry again, shaking her head no.

“No I really, really, really want it. I love him and all I did was hurt us both.”

Nico pulls her back into his chest again becoming the safe space she needs to feel everything catch up with her. It’s long, painful sobs that threaten the collapse of her chest. When her tears dry on her cheeks, and her body stops quivering from emotion, her and Nico sit in the same silence that was here before he arrived. Light snow begins to fall outside again and they both watch the flakes settle into the white ground from their perch. 

The only thing Mack can think about is how badly she wishes David was the one holding her right now.

Mack sniffs, wiping at her nose with her thumb.

“I’m going to go back.” She nods. “Face whatever is waiting for me there.” 

If she doesn’t try to fix this, she’ll never have him again. She owes it to herself, and to him, to try.

“I like that choice.” Her dad smiles gently, squeezing her tighter to his chest for a moment. It’s almost like he is trying to imprint this moment into his skin. “Maybe we could go back home though? Spend some time with mama? I know she would love to get her hands on you too.”

Mack smiles through her leftover tears and nods. 

Going home is exactly what she needs.

- - - & - - -

Back in New York 10 days later, Mack sits on the familiar espresso brown couch in David’s living room. The leather is cool beneath her leggings as falling snow drifts down in icy, zigzag swirls through the black night.

20 minutes.

In 20 minutes, David should walk through that apartment door.

Butterflies dive in Mack’s stomach, threatening to send her to the bathroom to spill the contents of her light dinner. She ate a salad from the market down the street, but half of it is discarded in the kitchen trash. Every time she started to chew the limp greens, her mouth filled with saliva while her stomach twisted painfully. She can’t remember a time she was this nervous, especially about David.

Mack brings her hands up to her hair, collecting the long brown strands into a pony tail at the top of her head. She sighs heavily, checking her phone again. Only a minute has passed. She calculates the exact timing she thinks she can expect David from the airport. The team has been on a road trip since right after she fled the city. His plane already touched down from what Mack could track off the itinerary he had forwarded to her before their demise. 

Her arrival in New York is planned, though later than she really wanted it to be. David left not long after she did for a road trip. The thought of returning home and him not being here made it too painful. So Mack hung around Switzerland with her parents. She visited Sophie at school, who clearly knew not to ask about David. She drank way too much German beer and ate too many baked goods. In the midst of all that, she thought about David the entire time. During those long days, Mack had held her phone in her hand so many times to call him, but each time doubt had her closing out the phone app before she could, especially when he never called her. Silly of her to expect that, she knows, but it felt like more confirmation of her consequences.

Mack inhales nervously when she hears the key in the lock. She looks towards the door, watching the lock flip, then the door handle turn. She stays sitting cross legged on the couch as he opens the door. He walks in wearing black dress pants and coat, a white shirt and a dark gray tie loosened from around his throat. He wheels in his black, hard cover luggage with his duffle bag on top.

He is looking down at his hand where he juggles his keys, wallet and phone. The phone screen has lit up against his fingers and she can see it’s the same picture of them from Christmas morning a few weeks ago. She is silent as he walks over to the bowl on the skinny entry room table that collects his things. There, he sees her purse resting too. Next to it, he finds her corn cob key chain in the bowl. He stares at it, then looks over his shoulder to where she is on the couch. 

Tears blur him as her throat swells with a lump. She practiced this moment at least fifty times on the long plane ride over here. But now that he is in front of her, Mack can’t find the will to speak. He looks tired and worn out- exhausted even- as his green eyes soak her in like dry land after a steady rain. And the words that Mack came up with on the plane don’t seem like enough. There is nothing she can say to him to make up for what she’s done to them. 

“Hi baby.” He greets her tenderly. 

“Oh.” She croaks out.

Mack covers her face with her hands and collapses forward, immediately sobbing. She hears the clattering of items into porcelain and the roll of a bag being placed off to the side. Then she feels the big hands of her man wrap around her body. They lift her easily into his lap as David settles himself into the couch cushion behind him. One hand is wrapped around her hips, pressing her into him while the other cradles her head to his chest.

“I’m so sorry.” She sobs. 

“It’s okay.” 

“It’s not okay!!!” She wails. 

“It is. Because you’re here now. You came home to me. Nothing else matters.” Mack fists the lapels of his coat, breathing him in, letting him take over her senses. She has been back in New York for hours, but now she is home.

“I’m so sorry.” She whispers again, shaking in his embrace from both remorse and relief.

"I know. You got scared."

“Damn it, don’t be so understanding.” He’s totally already forgiven her. Mack can feel it in his touch that the second he saw her it was all resolved. 

"We're okay, honey.” Mack winds her fingers up his chest to his neck, tangling in the hair at the base. David turns, kissing her forehead. Mack focuses on his lips plumped on her skin, willing herself to say some of the words she thought of on the plane.

“You’re right. I was really scared and I freaked out.” She inhales deeply, trying to stop the croaking of her voice so she can speak clearly. “I should have told you that. You would have understood.”

“Yeah.” He acknowledges then grabs her chin so her face is primed for him to kiss. It’s achingly beautiful and brimmed with love. Their greedy lips soak up the taste of their lovers without the desire to pull apart for air. Mack’s tongue laps at David’s as she hoists herself closer to him. His palms press harder into her until not even lint could slide between their bodies. When they pull apart, David groans in relief.

“I went home.” Mack blurts, suddenly finding her voice. 

“I know. Lucie told me.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t.” His lips purse and he laughs a bit.

“I knew you wouldn’t. You were long gone the second that door shut behind you.” 

“I-"

“Baby, we can talk in the morning, but I am dead tired right now. Just come to bed with me.”

Mack would do anything he asked of her right now, as long as they are doing it together.

In bed, after stripping naked and collapsing into each other’s arms, David’s hands run down her back to her ass. He pulls her flush with him then uses her cheeks to raise her left breast to his lips. He sucks her deep into his mouth as a few fingers slide against her entrance from behind. 

Too tired to talk, but never too tired to make love to her. 

His lips work them both up into a state of arousal that needs to be cured. Between their bodies, Mack reaches for his thick cock, rubbing it through her slit as he continues to play with her nipples- one in his mouth and the other pinched by two fingers. 

“Mmm.” She grunts, then bites her lip as she pushes just his swollen head inside of her. David breaks away, needing to see her face as she fills herself with him. 

“Perfect.” He compliments her quietly as she takes him without resistance. “My perfect fucking girl.” He nips at her breast, then maneuvers himself into place. His hips give her slow, deep thrusts. 

His mouth collects her moans as he makes her come undone on his cock, like it’s like the first time all over again.

He spills into her greedily, marking her neck when he does.

Then they fall asleep curled deeper into each other than they’ve ever been before.

- - - & - - -

The next morning, a car alarm jolts Mack and David awake at the same time. David squeezes Mack tighter to him, lifting his head to pinpoint the noise. When he registers the alarm, he loosens his grip. Mack slowly opens her eyes, glancing up at him. All she can see is the underside of his chin. She runs her eyes along the waves of his growing out stubble, then tilts up to kiss along a particularly swirly patch. David hums beneath her lips. It isn’t long before David’s fingers running along her back have her falling back to sleep. When she wakes again, David is gone but the sounds of him rummaging in the kitchen float into the bedroom.

Mack pads out to join him after doing her morning routine of skin care and brushing her teeth. She stretches her arms above her head, swaying left and right to force the stretch further down her back. David looks over his shoulder, smiling at her. Mack bites her lip, taking in the deep groves of his muscular shoulders as his arms filter through his pantry. 

“We should talk.” Mack murmurs, tucking her hair behind her ear. She puts her forearms on the counter, folding her hands together.

“About what?” He asks, taking out a box of pre-made mix for waffles or pancakes. Mack stills. Is he serious?

“About me… leaving.”

“You’re back though?” He scratches at his nose, flipping the box to the back and reading the directions. “Do I have eggs?” He murmurs to himself, moving towards the fridge. He pops the doors open. “I do.” He grins back at her, wiggling his eyebrows. “Do you want waffles or pancakes?”

Mack sucks her cheeks in as he begins to bring out bowls, a whisk and measuring cups. With intention, she pushes off from the counter and comes to intercept him before he can get to the fridge for water. 

“What?” He chuckles as she weaves her arms around his waist.

“I don’t want waffles or pancakes. I want us to talk about me leaving.” David stills, eyes finding hers and tracing the brown irises. 

“Okay.” He sets the measuring cups behind her on the counter. His hands collect on her lower back and he waits expectantly. 

“I feel like you don’t want to?”

“No, not really. It’s over, ya know? You’re here.”

“Right but…” Mack trails off, staring at him, trying to find the words. She inhales to start, then stops again, clearing her throat. “I left you…” Surprisingly, David chuckles genuinely.

“Baby, you ran away from a lot of things, but you came back for me.” She stares at him. “Right?” Mack nods. “Then, again, I don’t know what else we have to talk about here.”

“I’m scared if we don’t talk more about this that it’s going to leave a big crack in our foundation.” She shakes her head slightly, looking away. 

“If you’ve got things you feel you need to say to me, go ahead. I just want you to know, before you even start, that from my perspective, everything is okay. Now and in the future.” Mack pauses, considering, then she nervously chews on her bottom lip. She swallows hard, tilting her head down to look at the hairs in the middle of his chest. He trimmed them recently, probably right after she left. She brings a hand up, stroking his pecs.

“I got scared.” She mumbles then forces her teeth into her bottom lip again to stop from crying. “I got scared that some organization’s decision could wreck my whole life. I still don’t think I’m cut out for relationships, but I love you so much, it’s like there is nothing I wouldn’t try for you. That scared me too. That I want to be here in New York. That I don’t want to go on long assignments that take me away from here for weeks at a time. That I feel this pull to come home when New York was never supposed to be home for me.” 

“You’ve changed everything for me.” She continues. “Not because you asked for it to change or forced me into anything. It’s just happened. And I woke up a few weeks ago with all this news and chatter and you wouldn’t talk to me and…” He brushes his thumbs under her eyes to collect her tears. “That wasn’t wrong of you, but suddenly I was thinking about moving to Dallas with you. And getting a place together because that makes more sense than having two places, if I was going to move to another state with you. And do they have an international airport close by? Or do I have to do multiple flights and it was too much. My life no longer was mine. It was completely consumed by someone else.” 

David says nothing, but his eyebrows pull tight together. His hands grip her hips harder, pulling her in more so they’re completely pressed together.

“I was in fight or flight. And I told myself that you deserved so much better than this. So much better than someone who had one foot out the door the first time something goes wrong. So the old habits that die hard, hit harder than ever before, and I was packing my bag the second you left for lunch with Connor. I felt like I was drowning and exploding all at the same time. I couldn’t stop the spiral to think about who that person was that had filled my life up. Or rationalize with myself about how lonely and unhappy I was before you. You have changed everything, but it’s been for the better.” She closes her eyes, letting the tears stream down for him to catch again. 

“When you came home while I was packing…” She shudders, trying not to sob. “I anticipated you would do so many things, but not that you would tell me to go. It was like I wanted you to tell me to stay, but then you told me to go. And I’m stubborn as hell so I did.”

“Mack, I couldn’t ask you to stay. I need things too and I needed you to stay without me telling you to. I won’t hold you back. I won’t tether you down or clip your wings. You are free to choose. And when you came back last night, you choose me. That’s all I need to move past all this. I just hope you keep choosing me… Forever.”

It’s the boldest David has ever been with his plans for them. Forever. Mack gnaws her bottom lip, causing it to plump and redden. 

“Forever?” She repeats. 

“Mhm.” He mumbles into her lips. He kisses her deeply, fusing her lips with his until she has to gasp for another breath. “You gonna run if I let go of you?” The deep smirk on his lips makes her understand he is joking.

“No!” She laughs, slapping his chest. “God, of course you’re already joking about this.” He runs a hand down her hip to her ass, giving it a healthy squeeze. He levels her with a serious stare, then kisses her again.

“Waffles or pancakes?” 

“Waffles.” She decides immediately. 

“Chocolate chips or strawberries?”

“Both?”

“Yessss. I was hoping you would say that.” He kisses her nose, then releases her to grab the other two ingredients. “Hey, we are going to Connor and Lucie’s tonight for dinner.” Mack stares back at David with an anxious, wide-eyed expression.

“I haven’t talked to Lucie yet.” She admits. That is definitely a conversation she is still avoiding.

“Nice.” David chuckles. “What could possibly go wrong?”

- - - & - - -

“Heeeee-YAH! MACK!” Lucie’s smile fades instantly when she sees her younger sister. “Nice.” She snaps at her, crossing her arms and blocking the doorway.

“I saw mom and dad in Switzerland. They say hi… I-I have chocolate for Stell!” Mack tries to smooth her sister’s angry scowl immediately.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Lucie snarls in Swiss German. “Get in here.” She wraps a hand around her wrist then tugs her into a hug. “You scared the shit out of me and I’m fucking pregnant!”

“I’m sorry, Luc.” Mack closes her eyes, squeezing her older sister tightly. The pregnancy is not a surprise at all to her considering last time she saw Lucie. “Congratulations. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You hurt him.” Mack nods then steps out from their hug. 

“I know.” Mack whispers back. Lucie sighs, then steps around her to hug David.

“Go easy on my girl, Luc.” David murmurs to Lucie but looks at Mack while he says it. 

“Welcome home, Mack.” Connor murmurs from behind her. He tosses an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side. Mack looks up at him. “You two good?” He motions between her and David. They both nod. “Then this group is good too.” He says decidedly. “Now tell me about this chocolate you brought for Stell. She has a dad tax to pay, even on gifts.”

They all laugh then move further into the apartment. Lucie and Connor go back into the kitchen together. Mack knows her and Lucie will discuss more later, when it's just the two of them. She'll cross that bridge when they get there.

David puts a hand on the small of Mack’s back to guide her into the living room. Stella is bouncing between various activities in the living room, but stops everything and dives at Mack for a hug. Mack smooches her cheeks, then allows her past to David. 

“What are we playing tonight, Stelly?” He asks her. 

Mack knows exactly why she ran. 

But this right here, is exactly why she never will again.

Read more Mack and David here.

[blackswaneuroparedux]

So recently I was listening to one of my favourite podcasts while on a business trip by train through the Swiss Alps to Zurich. 'The Rest Is History' hosted historians Dominic Sandbrook and Tom Holland were quite topical talking about France under de Gaulle and the student riots of 1968 as well as its legacy towards France’s current troubles with civil disorder.

The recent riots starting in Nanterre and beyond were troubling and significant. However outsiders not knowing the French or their culture and history thought it was either the fall of the Fifth Republic or start of the collapse of Western civilisation itself. It was nothing of the sort. For the most part the French think it healthy to blow off steam and have a jolly good riot in the same way people in England blow off steam by writing an angry letter to the editor of the Times. It’s just how things are. As predicted, things have gotten quiet now.

In their podcast Sandbrook and Holland cheekily suggested that the fizzling out of les evénéments – the student protests of 1968, during which it seemed that another of France’s periodic revolutions might ignite - had something to do with the Whitsun holidays. Realising that their Parisian parents were setting off for their holiday homes in the French countryside or the southern coast, the elitist student leaders put down their high minded revolutionary leftist philosophical slogans aside for the bourgeois comfort of vacances en famille. There is a lot of truth to that.

All this is to say les grandes vacancies have already begun in France. The grand vacation of July and August is an entrenched tradition in the French psyche. So ingrained is this tradition that until 2015 there were regulations still in place dating back to the French revolution that governed when bakers in Paris could take their holidays, so as not to deprive the city’s populace of their daily bread (not quite baguette, because that was invented later by the Austrians camped out in the Champs de Mars after the fall of Napoleon - but that’s another story).  

That France is in the middle of les grandes vacances can be seen here in Paris. Parisians are leaving their apartments and heading out to the countryside or down south to the Med - to be offfeeling handedly rude and entitled towards the locals. Schools have been closed since June. Many shops are closed or not nearly as crowded as usual, most of the people wandering the streets have cameras around their necks. Of course not everyone goes and those that stay can feel freer until the first glut of tourists arrive.

For many France in August is definitely their favourite time of the year. And every summer I’m reminded just how much French language and culture are inseparable by the fact that there are words for people who take their annual vacation in July, les juillettistes, or in August, les aoûtiens.

Most French people have 5 weeks of paid vacation per year, and some have even more time off with the inclusion of their RTTs (essentially, personal days) for those who work more than 35 hours per week. I work close to 80 hours a week, so I'm ready for my break from the corporate treadmill.

So my blog will be shut down for the rest of the summer as I go away on vacation. I’ll be back in early September.

I use this time to switch off my phone and strictly no social media as I go off grid. It's a question of valuing one's mental health. I hope you can do the same.

Thank you for following my blog and appreciating my eclectic posts.

I wish you all the best.

Have a great summer!

[wildissylupus]

Ok concept kind of based off of how easily Cassidy moved around Cairo in New Blood. When Cassidy was old enough and trusted enough (because he was a criminal and likely would have needed to be trusted enough to do this) to live off base he lived in Egypt close by to Ana and Pharah.

Do I have evidence for this? No, I just thought it would be a neat little HC, also I do think Fareeha would spend a lot of her time at Cassidy's place. Especially later in her teens/early 20s when her relationship with Ana was at his most rocky.

Also the reason I say he lived close to the Amari's and not the Reyes's is because my other HC is that while Cassidy mainly stayed at Zurich, the other main base he stayed on was in Mexico. Mainly cause I don't see Reyes working too far away from Martina and RJ. Talk shit on Gabriel Reyes I might but I refuse to make him a neglectful father.

That and I choose to believe Cassidy would absolutely not want to live near Gabe, he already has to deal with him every day when staying on base.

[mybeingthere]

Paul Camenisch (1893 - 1970) was a Swiss architect, draftsman and painter. He was a co-founder of the expressionist artist groups «Rot-Blau» (also of "Rot-Blau II") and the «Gruppe 33».

Camenisch studied architecture at the ETH Zurich under Karl Moser. From 1916 to 1919 he was a construction manager in East Prussia, Danzig and Berlin. From 1921 to 1924 he painted his first watercolors with fantastic architectural landscapes. In 1924 he moved to the "Villa Loverciano" in Castel San Pietro in Mendrisiotto. There his friends Hermann Scherer and Albert Müller encouraged him to paint and from 1925 he turned away from architecture completely and became a full time artist.

On New Year’s Eve 1924/1925, Paul Camenisch, Hermann Scherer and Albert Müller founded the Group "Rot-Blau”, an artists’ association modeled on “Die Brücke”, which made the most important contribution to Swiss Expressionism.

In the summer of 1926, Camenisch and his future wife Martha Hörler spent three months with Ernst Ludwig Kirchner in Frauenkirch for the first time ; further stays followed. In the same year, the third and final exhibition of the artist group "Rot-Blau" took place in the Kunsthalle Basel, organized by the sponsor and curator Wilhelm Barth. Kirchner acquired the portrait of the sculptor Hermann Scherer from Camenisch and shortly afterwards donated it to the Museum Folkwang in Essen. There it was confiscated in 1937 in the Nazi campaign " Degenerate Art ". It was shown in 1937 in the Nazi exhibition " Degenerate Art " in the Haus der Kunst in Munich and has been considered lost ever since.

Camenisch initially based his work on Ernst Ludwig Kirchner in terms of color and form. At the beginning of the 1930s, his style moved away from expressionism.

After the deaths of Scherer and Müller, the "Rot-Blau", also known as "Rot-Blau" II", was re-founded in 1928 with Hans Stocker , Coghuf (Ernst Stocker), Otto Staiger, Charles Hindenlang and Max Sulzbachner.

In 1933 he married Martha Hörler and in the same year he was one of the co-founders of the Basel artists' association " Group 33 "; he was its president from 1937 to 1952. In 1953 he was expelled from the group because of alleged political activities on a cultural trip to Russi. In fact, alongside his painting, Camenisch was intensively involved in political work, initially in various aid committees such as the founding of the "Aid Organization for Women and Children in Germany" and in aid for emigrants, supported by his wife who was also a politically active member of the PdA . Due to the predominantly politically motivated artistic and social isolation, galleries in Basel were put under pressure by the Hypothekarbank to stop exhibiting Camenisch.

In 1959, Camenisch was able to present his work in a major solo exhibition at the Musée de l'Athénée in Geneva and in 1962 in Prague. He was involved in the preparations for a comprehensive exhibition of his work in August/September 1970 at the Kunsthalle Basel, but died on February 13 of the same year. He was buried in a grave in the Hörnli cemetery .

[sgiandubh]

Please excuse if I’m missing something but I don’t understand why he couldn’t be in Malibu on Tuesday and Los Feliz on Thursday they are only around 35miles apart . Los Feliz is also only 6miles from Burbank where the Saturn awards he is nominated in will take place on Sunday .

Dear Missing Something Anon,

It is technically possible. Wouldn't he be staying near the awards' venue, then - Los Feliz?

I think that would be the most logical option. Plus 35 miles in LAX traffic terms means a 1 hour commute, at an average (see the map I posted). Why would he complicate his life like that? And please, don't give me the helicopter argument, I don't think he is JR Ewing.

Let's try something, and suppose Tuesday Anon was correct:

His earliest flight option to LA left Paris on Tuesday at 10:15 AM. To be able to catch it, he would have to leave the hotel at around 07:15 AM local time, at the latest.

Arrival in LAX at 1 PM at the earliest. Allow for about 1 hour border and luggage formalities. Leaving the Airport by taxi/limo to Los Feliz, transfer takes between 40 and 90 minutes, depending on traffic, for an ETA around 4 PM:

All this, after a 12 hour flight. Even in First/Business class, you are still a zombie, but sure - believe what you want. Last time I traveled to DC from Bucharest, via Zurich (16 hours, 1 stop) I wanted to kill someone or pee near the luggage belt at a minimum, etc. And I traveled Business.

With what energy would he gleefully be in Malibu the same 'night' is beyond me. Perhaps I am a fool to assume people (even athletes like S, not overweight diplomats, like me!) are not machines - jet lag, anyone? But this is my take on things and I take full responsibility for it, along with the risk of being ridiculed or wrong.

All of this time, you comfortably remain Anon, presuming I know everything. I don't. I just reasonably speculate, in this case in point.

I am not the damn Oracle of Delphi! But I still think he did not leave Paris on Tuesday.

[my-deer-history]

Francis Kinloch in the Müller-Bonstetten letters: Part 1

Here is the first batch of translated instances where Francis Kinloch is mentioned in letters written to Karl Viktor von Bonstetten by Johannes von Müller, a gay Swiss historian who Kinloch lived with while studying in Geneva. Throughout this period (early 1775 onwards), Müller is attempting to write his history of Switzerland, and the American colonies are starting to actively rebel against England.

The original letters were mostly written in German (source), with some translated later into French (source). I have transcribed and translated most of the mentions, but there's quite a lot, so I'm going to divide this into several posts. (@john-laurens - enjoy!)

My translations below, with the German and/or French transcripts under the cut. As always, corrections and improvements are greatly appreciated!

10 March 1775

I advance in the sciences; you love me, because I do you; Kinloch, who gives away his heart so sparingly, addresses his letters to the beloved of my heart,* and we see each other daily [...] When I am by Kinloch’s side at Bonnet’s, and spend an hour talking with him, I am happy and cheerful; thus, says the Quran, does a lightning bolt suddenly illuminate the darkest of nights, but the shadow becomes darker after him.

*This follows a mention in an earlier undated 1775 letter that Kinloch asserted he needed at least one year before he could call anyone "friend". Clearly it happened in a matter of weeks here.

18 Aug 1775

…and Kinloch’s questions made me more aware of many points of our constitutions, especially our lack of political arithmeticians. […] Keep well. Kinloch will write to you soon.

21 Aug 1775

If cruel fate separates Kinloch from me, I will hope to have 25 to 30 louis more per year, with which I will be able to carry out this plan of study by spending the summer months in some of the cantons.

23 Aug 1775

I also do not have time [in this letter] to continue my observations along the mark, the Zurich lake, into the drawing rooms of Füsslin, Heidegger, Gessner, Hirzel, Bodmer, etc., nor to assure you sufficiently of Gessner’s friendship; nor to tell you how much I augment my knowledge of Helvetia [Switzerland], and with what pleasure I read Livius with Kinloch; nor to paint Kinloch’s enthusiasm* for you, and his anger with me because it has been so long since I wrote to you; nor my irreconcilable hatred for you, B. To declare to you in very thunderous and defeating expressions that, contrary to your word and honour, despite my repeated requests in the name of the holiest friendship, you have committed the atrocious crime of not writing me any letters to this day. Write to me today, therefore!

*The archaic meaning of the German Enthusiasmus is more along the lines of fervour, inspiration, or passionate feeling than the modern “enthusiasm” suggests.

“Thursday” [1775]*

We are waiting at present for a letter from Mr Boone, which will inform us whether we, Kinloch and I, may travel together in France, or if I must stay where I am. In the latter case, I will quietly await some opportunity to travel with an Englishman, which would let me see Europe and fix me some income. If Mr Boone and other friends do not find anyone, I will go to England with K at around the end of next year and I will not leave him even if he goes to America.

*The exact dating of this letter is unclear, but it is placed here in the source. 

Wednesday, Dec 1775

At this very moment, Kinloch is writing a letter to Mr Boone, which might influence my future destination. If I cannot live as I had hoped, according to what I have told you, I would hope that in the case that I must spend my life in solitude, that I may share yours; but that is the way to live!

26 Dec 1775

I find myself in the midst of great doubts. Kinloch cannot stay here past the end of March; we are waiting for letters from England to inform us whether we have enough money to travel together. The American matters make it very uncertain. And even when this journey is over, this unrest will hinder us from carrying out many projects. And now also comes the newly confirmed expedition against Carolina. In this land, so say the letters, is everything in such disarray, that reason has completely lost its power, all courts have decided that no law shall be enforced anymore, all the stations have mixed together, and the clergy preach nothing but rebellion. And the rebellious faction is so powerful that they have decided to send all women and children into the interior of the country, to burn the whole city of Charlestown to ash, and to fight the English over its ruins. Imagine Kinloch’s heart, and his noble mother in this horrid land, fleeing, exposed to all the malice of the soldiers, all the bouts of depredation, hunger and shortages of all kinds. It is very possible that Kinloch himself will lose everything, that his plantations will be laid waste. Imagine for yourself what we must think and feel about all of this. 

9 Jan 1776

We have letters from England that confirm the degree to which the entire coast of the North American sea is given to flames and devastation; they also state that the fleet against Carolina has already sailed. Kinloch and I have developed a project for our destination, which will, in all likelihood, be carried out for our shared benefit. At the beginning of April, my friend will go to France to a provincial town; I will go to Genthod to the wise men (these we, i.e. those from Genthod and I, are still keeping a secret at this time on account of certain people). Towards autumn, I will go to Marseille or Lyon, find Kinloch there, go with him to Rome and from there through Tyrol and Bavaria down into the Netherlands, right to the sea. In this way, I will be able to complete most of my material collecting in the summer and have an educational and enjoyable winter. And beyond that? you will ask me. Within one year, it will become clear if America is still inhabitable, if Lord North is still prime minister, if Kinloch will settle in England or America. We will decide accordingly.

19 Feb 1776

Your letters always bring me great pleasure, but it has been a long time since any letter or occurrence has caused me as much pleasure as your second-to-last one did. Your eloquence is Demosthenic when friendship has inspired you, but your heart is full of the greatest and noblest virtues. Bonnet and Kinloch felt a real enthusiasm for you. I however am more determined than ever to follow your advice. [Lists several of his good fortunes.] Mr Bonnet, Mrs Bonnet and Kinloch and all my best friends, besides philosophy and politics - to whom do I owe all of these? Ask yourself!

10 March 1775

In den Wissenschaften schreite ich fort; Sie lieben mich, wie ich Sie; Kinloch, der so karg sein Herz versschenkt, addressirt seine Billets to the beloved of my heart, und wir sehen uns täglich [...]  An der Seite Kinlochs bei Bonnet, und nun ich eine Stunde mich mit Ihnen unterhalten, bin ich glücklich und heiter; so, sagt der Koran, erleuchtet ein Blitzstrahl plötzlich die dickste der Nächte, aber die Finsfterniß wird dicker nach ihm.

18 Aug 1775

Les questions de Kinloch ont fixé plus particulièrement mon attention sur plusieurs points de nos constitutions, et m'ont fait sentir surtout combien nous manquons d'habiles calculateurs politiques. […] Adieu, mon ami: Kinloch vous écrira bientôt.

…auch haben Kinlochs Fragen mich auf eine Menge Punkte unserer Verfassungen, besonders auf unsre Armuth an politischen Arithmetikern aufmerksamer gemacht [...]  Gehab dich wohl. Kinloch 

21 Aug 1775

Si mon mauvais sort me sépare de Kinloch, je souhaiterais avoir par an 25 à 30 louis de plus pour me mettre à portée de réaliser ce plan d'étude en passant l'été dans quelques Cantons.

Wenn das harte Schicksal Kinloch von mir trennt, so wünsche ich mir jährlich 25—30 Louis d'ors, mit denselben würde ich in einigen Kantonen in den Sommermonaten diesen Plan ausführen können

23 Aug 1775

Je n'ai pas le temps non plus dé vous mener avec moi le long du lac de Zurich, dans les cabinets de Füsslin, de Heidegger, de Gessner, de Hirzel, de Bodmer, etc, ni de vous assurer tout au long de l'amitié de Gessner; ni de vous dire combien j'augmente mes connaissances sur l'Helvétie, et avec quel plaisir je lis Tite-Live avec Kinloch; ni de vous peindre l'enthousiasme de Kinloch pour vous, et sa colère contre moi parce que j'ai été si longtemps sans vous écrire; ni enfin de vous déclarer dans les termes les plus foudroyants une haîne irréconciliable, parce qu'au mépris de votre parole d'honneur, de mes prières et de notre amitié, vous ne m'avez point encore écrit. Ecrivez-moi donc aujourd'hui même!

Aber die Zeit erlaubt mir nicht, meine Observationen durch die Mark, den Zürichersee hinunter, durch Füßlins, Heideggers, Geßners, Hirzels, Bodmers &c. &c. Zimmer fortzusetzen, noch Ihnen Geßners Freundschaft für Sie genug zu vermelden, oder meine Zunahme an helvetischen Kenntnissen oder mein Vergnügen über meine Lectur des Livius mit Kinloch, und Kinlochs Enthusiasmus für Sie und Zorn über mich, der ich Ihnen so lang nicht geschrieben, noch meinen unversöhnlichen Haß gegen Euch, B. Euch in recht donnernden und niederschlagenden Ausdrücken anzukündigen, da` Sie wider Wort und Ehre ungeachtet meiner wiederholten Bitten gegen die allerheiligste Freundschaft das gräuliche Verbrechen begangen haben, bis auf diesen Tag mir keinen Brief zu schreiben. So schreiben Sie mir dann heut noch!

“Thursday” [1775]

Nous attendons à présent une lettre de Mr. Boone qui nous apprendra si nous pouvons, Kinloch et moi, voyager ensemble en France, ou si je dois rester où je suis. Dans ce dernier cas j'attendrai paisiblement quelque occasion de voyager avec un Anglois, qui me feroit voir l'Europe et qui me fixeroit quelque rente. Si Mr. Boone et d'autres amis n'en trouvent point, j'irai en Angleterre avec K. sur la fin de l'année prochaine et je ne le quitterai pas même, quand it va en Amérique.

*written in French

Wednesday, Dec 1775

Dans ce moment même Kinloch écrit à Mr. Boone une lettre, qui influera peut-être sur ma destination future. Si je ne peux pas vivre comme je le souhaiterois, d'après ce que je Vous ai dit, je souhaiterois, que dans le cas, qu'il me fallut passer ma vie dans la solitude, je puisse partager la votre; mais le moyen de vivre!

26 Dec 1775

Gegenwärtig befinde ich mich in sehr großen Zweifeln. Länger als bis im Märzen kann Kinloch nicht hier bleiben; wir erwarten aus England Briefe, ob wir Geldes genug haben, mit einander zu reisen. Die amerikanischen Sachen machen es sehr ungewiß. Und wenn auch diese Reisen zu Ende find, so werden diese Unruhen uns an der Ausführung vieler Projekte hindern. Nun kommt noch die neulich beschlossene Expedition gegen Karolina. In diesem Land, wir haben Briefe, ist alles in solcher Unordnung, daß der Rath vollkommen seine Gewalt verloren, alle Gerichte beschlossen sind, kein Gesetz mehr vollstreckt wird, alle Stände sich vermengt haben, und die Geistlichen nichts als Aufruhr predigen. Auch ist die rebellische Faction so muthig, daß sie beschlossen haben, alle Weiber und Kinder ins innere Land zu versenden, die ganze Stadt Karlstown in Asche zu verwandeln, und über den Ruinen derselben sich mit den Engländern zu schlagen. Stellen Sie sich Kinlochs Herz vor, und seine edle Mutter in diesem fürchterlichen Land, in der Flucht, ausgesetzt allem Muthwillen der Soldaten, allen Anfällen der Verwüstung, dem Hunger und dem Mangel. Es ist sehr möglich, daß Kinloch selbst alles verliert, daß seine Pflanzungen verwüstet werden. Stellen Sie sich vor, was wir bei alledem denken und fühlen müssen.

9 Jan 1776

 Aus England haben wir Briefe, welche bestätigen, wasmaßen das ganze Ufer der nordamerikanischen See den Flammen und der Verwüstung gewidmet sey; auch sagen Sie, die Flotte gegen Karolina sey bereits abgesegelt. Kinloch und ich haben über unsre Bestimmung ein Project entworfen, welches allem Ansehen nach zu unserm gemeinschaftlichen Nutzen ausgeführt werden wird. Anfangs Aprillens geht mein Freund nach Frankreich in eine Provinzialstadt; ich nach Genthod zu den Weisen (dieses halten wir, d. i. die von Genthod und ich gewisser Leute wegen noch zur Zeit geheim). Gegen den Herbst gehe ich nach Marseille oder Lyon, finde daselbst Kinloch, gehe mit ihm nach Rom und von da durchs Tirol und Bayern hinunter in die Niederlande bis ans Meer. So werde ich diesen Sommer meine meisten Materialiensammlungen vollenden können und einen lehrreichen und `vergnügten Winter haben. Und was ferner? werden Sie mich fragen. In Jahresfrist wird es sich zeigen, ob Amerika noch wohnbar, ob Lord North noch Staatsminister sey, ob Kinloch sich in England oder in Amerika niederlassen werde. Accordingly werden wir uns entschließen.

19 Feb 1776

Vos lettres me font toujours grand plaisir mais aucune d'elles et en général, aucun événement ne m'a causé, depuis longtemps, un plaisir aussi vif que votre avant-dernière. Vous avez l'éloquence de Demosthène quand l'amitié vous inspire, et votre cœur est ce qu'il y a au monde de plus noble et de meilleur. Bonnet et Kinloch vous aiment avec enthousiasme, et moi, je suis plus déterminé que jamais à suivré en tout vos conseils. […] Mais, et Bonnet, et Mad. Bonnet, et Kinloch, et mes meilleurs amis, et les lumières que j'ai acquises en philosophie et en politique, à qui dois-je tout cela, mon ami? vous le savez.

Ihre Briefe machen mir immer sehr viel Vergnügen, aber seit langer Zeit hat kein Brief und keine Begebenheit mir so viel Freude verschafft, als Ihr vorletzter. Ihre Beredsamkeit ist Demosthenisch, wenn Sie von der Freundschaft begeistert sind, Ihr Herz aber der größten und edelsten Tugenden voll. Bonnet und Kinloch haben einen wahren Enthusiasmus für Sie gefühlt. Ich aber bin entschlossener, als noch Ihrem Rath zu folgen. [...] Hrn. Bonnet, Md. Bonnet und Kinloch und alle meine besten Freunde, nebst der Philosophie und Politik, wem bin ich alles schuldig? fragen Sie sich!

[kisskisstine]

It’s my BIRTHDAY 🎂 and I’ll draw myself all BLONDE if I want to! (Tbf drawing my actual two tone hair is a lot rn bro lol I’d like to get on with my day 🫠💕✌️)

Over the years after staying in many different cities, I’ve styled myself differently in each place. Here’s a summary:

❣️Barcelona - light tops, hair down, slip dresses, airy skirts, espadrille heels

❣️San Francisco - baby bangs, puffer jackets, knitted crop, gold accent accessories, cut off straight jeans, western boots

❣️New York - black boots, fur coats, pleated long skirts, slicked back hair, polarised sunglasses

❣️Paris - decorated western boots, wool barret, alpaca jacket with detailed hems

❣️London - warm long puffer, western style chelsea boots, knit pull, fluffy fringes

❣️Zurich - structured overcoat, clean straight jeans, black Chelsea boots, mock wool sweater.

So low key… I’m obsessed with drawing Western boots after Dale Dimmadome’s goddamn boots that he loves more than his son from Fairly Odd Parents: A New Wish 🤪

[bitchinbarzal]

surprise | timo x singer!reader blurb

summary: when you’re sick and in the hospital good news is not the expected outcome

-

You were on the European leg of your world tour, having just finished a show in Germany you headed to Switzerland to chill before your show in Zurich in a couple days time.

Back home Timo was preparing for the first round of playoffs. You would be home for the first game, you structured your tour around it — you wouldn’t miss it.

Timo’s family had come to stay with you for the few days off you had. Unfortunately though you had been sick the whole time.

On day three over the toilet Claudia sat holding your hair while you retched

“Oh Sternli, maybe it’s time you see a doctor” she suggests, rubbing your back.

You nod “I think so”

She made the phone calls for you, scheduling the appointment for you and coming with you for support.

You hadn’t had to chance to call Timo, with the time change and told him you were at the hospital but it appeared his dad had beat you to it because while you were in the waiting room your phone began buzzing with his name.

“Hi, my love”

“Why are You at the hospital? What’s wrong? Do I need to come?”

You chuckled at his overprotectiveness “No, it’s ok your mom is with me” Claudia squeezed your hand and spoke into the phone too “I’ve got her don’t you worry!”

He sighs “well phone me once you know what’s wrong, please?”

“Of course, i love you”

“I love you sweetheart”

In the appointment the doctor ran through tests with you, all the regular stuff and came back a little over twenty minutes later with results.

He only spoke in his native language, one you weren’t fluent in yet outside basic conversation with your husband and in-laws.

So he spoke to Claudia and when he told her she gasped, squeezing your hand

“What? What’s wrong?” You Ask, trying to sit up higher on the exam table.

Claudia turns to you, tears in her eyes “You’re having a baby, Sternli”

Your mouth drops open “I’m what? are you serious?”

She nods and stands up to hug you “Oh my girl! You’re having a baby!”

You hold her arm, squeezing it tight and crying softly. Part of you wishes Timo was here in his mothers place to experience this first time moment together.

After the appointment and in the car park you called him, he picked up after the first ring.

“Are you ok?” He immediately asks and you hum

“I’m more than ok, love. It’s good news!”

On the other end of the line, he frowned “Good news?”

Through your silent tears you said “I’m pregnant, T. We’re having a baby”

He was silent, alarming you slightly “T?”

Then he sniffled “We’re having a baby?”

You smiled, nodding “Yeah, we’re having a baby”

“I love you, I love you so much! Oh my god you have to come home!”

“One more show then I’ll be home, in your arms — you, me and baby”

[bbobpul]

hell of an oddball

NOTE. fifth email 🤧 reblog, like, and follow @medyowriter

PAIRING. hoshi x you

GENRE. angst, hurt/comfort

WARNINGS. language alluding to death, mention of unnamed chronic illness

list of emails i can't send

masterlist

if you want to be a part of this series' taglist, like this post

from. you@svtmail.com

to. kwonsy@svtmail.com

subject. emails i can't send 5/13

hoshi kwon, thank you

the drought was the very worst. even before you became a part of my life, it felt as though every gentle breeze that graced my face carried an unseen layer of grime, imperceptible to my eyes. i felt as if every person i passed by could somehow discern my age and recognize the lack of achievement by the time i reached 27.

high school marked a period when i held a specific disdain for you. you were the peculiar individual who boldly challenged teachers to dance, as if you were close to their age. you were an unusual presence, appearing only at special school events. but despite my hatred, i couldn't resist sneaking glances in your direction. maybe because it was your unyielding nonconformity, causing disruption every semester we shared. you were a hell of an oddball.

then, more than a decade later, i saw you again on my third day in switzerland.

it was like meeting an entirely different person with the same face and name as you. you changed a lot, or should i say, you had matured.

honestly, when you greeted me, i half-expected you to challenge me to dance in the middle of zurich's streets. jokes aside, you had evolved far beyond the quirky high school kid i once knew. you had become a psychologist, a revelation that took me by surprise, but you had always been unpredictable.

you mentioned your plans to embark on a global exploration journey, ticking off every location on your bucket list before your special day. however, the nature of that special day remained unclear until now.

we explored every corner of the country, often without a specific destination in mind. during our journey, we learned more about each other. you learned that i quit my job because it starts to feel unfulfilling and you were the first person to congratulate me for doing so. to my astonishment, i discovered that, despite your profession as a psychologist, you had defied your parents' protest to build your own dance studio.

we openly shared the changes that had unfolded in our lives over the past decade, a time during which we hadn't crossed paths. it felt as though i had known you for two decades, even though it had only been two weeks.

throughout our trip, i had been your designated driver since you still hadn't learned to drive. however, on our final day in switzerland, you made an unusual request, asking me to drive you to a specific place - dignitas house.

and in that moment, everything became clear.

the drive to dignitas house was marked by an eerie silence. you decided to break it, revealing your chronic illness that has been giving you hell. that was the moment i knew.

just hours before your scheduled passing, i had been holding your hand, begging you to come home with me. i couldn't summon any more tears, and i didn't want to be selfish, so i simply stayed there by your side. in the end, i went home alone.

hoshi, you truly are a hell of an oddball.

you needed company, and i'm grateful to have been the one to provide it.

so, from the depths of my heart, thank you.

those days in switzerland were a great realization that life just happens, just like that, and it's inevitable.

 

thank you for spending two weeks in switzerland with me. in those two weeks, we slowly let go of all the hurdles in our lives, and by morning, gone was any trace of blues, and we could, after the long run, say that we were finally clean.

sincerely,

your travel buddy

TAGLIST. @matchahyuck @minhui896 @hongmingoo @strawberryshortcakes-blog @lleercy @wonwooz1 @mhlsymlysn

[estersky]

AU: It's been a couple of years since Zurich. Annie and Eyal are at the safe house with the only bed again.

"I'll sleep on the couch in the living room."

Eyal took one of the pillows and he was heading out of the bedroom when Annie called out to him.

"Eyal... The couch is too narrow. You can hardly get enough sleep on it," she didn't believe she was saying it herself, but that was what she wanted to do then. "The bed is wide enough, and... there are two blankets, so... Maybe we won't interfere much with each other."

Eyal got stuck in the doorway, dumbfounded. It was obvious that he was hesitating. Of course, he really wanted to stay in the bedroom. And not only because the bed was really more comfortable. Finally he spoke.

"Annie, I don't want you or both of us to feel uncomfortable. I had to sleep in different places or not sleep at all. This couch is not the worst option."

"Yes, I understand. At our first meeting, it would never have occurred to me to suggest such a thing, but now... You can stay here if you want."

He hesitated as if thinking and doubting the correctness of the decision he had already made, but then he returned and put the pillow back in its original place.

[jordanandegypt]

Hello Jordan.

September 13, 2024

(Warning - this is a little map-heavy! Y'all know how I LOVE maps!!)

Greetings from Amman, Jordan!!  Salam! We have connected with our friends and met our delightful guide, Nader.  Let the trip begin!!!!

We escaped Zürich without eating cheese fondu, buying chocolate or a Swiss watch.  Yes, we have NO proof that we were ever there. Well. we did buy some grandkid stuff and we had a lovely visit, albeit much too short.   And before we leave that topic, I have a correction.  As we walked about this lovely town of Zurich we encountered some super busy multi lane roads and there, my friends, we found the walk/don’t walk signs.  So they do indeed have them despite my reporting that they did not. But they appear to be few and far between.

On Thursday, Sept 12, we flew from Zürich Switzerland to Athen, Greece. 

This morning we flew from Athens to here.  WHY? - you ask.  Money my friends - Money.  Getting to Amman from a lot of places is not easy and not cheap.  I was looking for non-stop flights that were reasonable priced and had the timing I could work with and after much research - (OMG - you cannot believe how much time to put into this silly endeavor) I landed on taking two days and doing these short flights with an overnight in Athens.  Now - the flights were on small planes - and one option I had was to pay an additional $7.00 as insurance against the airlines going bankrupt.🥴. I took that option FYI!

But it all worked out perfectly.  We left Zürich in the AM and arrived in Athens in the early afternoon. The little place we stayed picked us up then arranged for us to be picked up for dinner on the beach.  SWEET!!!!

And MAYBE the Greek Salad and grilled fish was delicious because we were in Greece or because we could hear the Mediterranean lapping right there  - but whatever the reason, dinner was delicious. (Our younger son, Logan, BTW - pointed out that all salads in Greece would be technically Greek salads - but this is not going to bring me down!)

Today we got to Athen’s airport WAY TOO early but so what.  We had a coffee and before we knew it we boarded our flight on Royal Jordanian.  Now - let me say - WOW!!  The cleanest roomiest seats ever and we were traveling coach.  With the exception of one little issue - my gluten free meal was absent - but they scrounged around and I did not go hungry.  “Come ON!” To quote my youngest granddaughter.   I will say not exactly gourmet - but you be the judge.

But would I fly Royal Jordanian again?  Why, yes I would.  A crappy lunch on this lovely airplane with attentive flight attendants was just a little blip.

Another reason I wanted to go through Greece was to adjust myself to being completely unable to read signs.  While in Greece there were somethings I could make a guess on and somethings I could not  - like the sign below.

But once we got to Amman I figured I wouldn’t have a clue about anything - and it appears I am correct.

So, somehow I thought easing myself into that would be a good idea.  BUT clearly the answer is NOPE!  So really the reason for Athen was money...

Anyway - Jordan:

Michigan is about 2.5 times bigger than Jordan but Jordan has more than 11 million+ people, about  1 million more than live in Michigan.  And of that 11 million people 5 million live in Amman - the capital of Jordan.  A peek out of our hotel window lets you know this is a HUGE city!

A quick review on the location of Jordan.

Jordan is bordered by Syria to the north, Iraq to the east, Saudi Arabia to the south, and Israel and the occupied Palestinian territories to the west.   For those of you who were flipping out about us coming here (MOM!), we are indeed close to the Israel/Hamas conflict.  Amman and Jerusalem are just a little more than 60 miles apart.  

But we are visiting this beautiful city and then going north to Jerash.  After Jerash we will be heading south to Petra and we will certainly be close to Israel - but no worries.  You wouldn’t want us to come this far and not get to see Mujib Valley , the Grand Canyon of Jordan.  Hopefully, we will get a look at the Dead Sea as well.

When we arrived we had to buy a Visa and it was exactly as we had been told - EASY- PEASY!!  We stood in a short line - forked over our passports and 40 Jordanian dinars (that I got before we left Saline) and we got a single entry Visa and a welcome to “The Hashemitec Kingdom of Jordan.”  “Enjoy your time here!”

I’m so excited to learn about Jordan, the people, the geography, the history, their politics and more.  Already I learned that 85% of the land is desert and that water is scarce and they have NO OIL.  I admit I was surprised!  I discovered that it is a Sunni Muslim majority religion country (95% according to Wiki)  and I expect to learn more about this.

So the learning begins in earnest tomorrow and I’m going to bed.  We are now in Arabic Standard Time and we are 7 hours ahead of Michigan.  This adjustment is - like the VISA procurement - EASY-PEASY!

Tesbah ala khir. (Good Night in Arabic - and this is NOT easy-peasy). Also just for a little smile - my autocorrect changed that Arabic phrase to "Teabag la Kir" - which I'm pretty sure means nothing.

Salam

[isabelldrabbles]

Dani Miranda x Reader

Imagine: You wake up in the middle of the night, a bruised Dani Miranda in front of your door.

warnings: fluff, black eyes and bruises

———

Awakened by a loud thunder, you wake up. The temperature in your room is muggy and oppressive, you can hardly breathe. The window panes reflect the lightning over the city. You sigh.

You turn to your bedside table and take a sip of water from your glass. As you put it down, you glance at the neon numbers on your alarm clock. 11.38 p.m. It's going to be a long night.

You wake up again. This time it is not because of the thunderstorm, which has turned into a soothing downpour over the hours, but because of a distant ringing. Maybe it was just a bell in your dream. Ring. Ring. Nope, real life. Who else is awake at this hour? You sigh again and straighten up. As you put your feet on the floor and search for your slippers, you glance at the clock. 2.56 a.m.

On your way out of your bedroom, you put on your dressing gown as you walk and run your fingers dreamily along the wall of the room until you finally hit the switch for the light. As the lamps for the corridor and the living area switch on, you are dazzled and curse softly. You check again that the bucket for all emergencies is next to the pull-out couch before you take the last steps to the door. It wouldn't be the first time that former school friends and family members stayed at your place after partying at the club nearby.

Ring. Ring.

"Jesus Christ." You roll your eyes aggressively. "Sorry I‘m not faster at this hour!" You unlock the locks and turn the doorknob. As you carefully open the door and look up from below, you are surprised.

"Dani?!"

The brunette stands in front of you in a fancy black designer dress. And she's bleeding.

"Shit Dani, what have they done to you?" You look in shock at her black eye and the wounds on her face.

"I didn't know exactly where to go and then I remembered you live in Vienna ... and now I'm here. I shouldn't have come here, sorry. It was stupid."

"Well, you're already here and you've already woken me up. Now come in, knowing you, you have no time to waste." You pull her into the flat by one hand and close the door. Dani looks at you nervously. "I was going to check in with you after what happened in Zurich, but-" "How bad from one to five is it? Are you being followed, are you in bad trouble or 'just' an unpleasant confrontation?" You interrupt her as you walk towards the bathroom. She follows you and looks down at the floor in shame. "An unpleasant confrontation."

You open the medical kit in the mirror and take out bandages, plasters, alcohol to disinfect and painkillers. "Here, sit down." You flip the lid on the toilet and point to it as you soak a pad with alcohol.

"You-you don't have to do this." Dani's tired voice rings out in the sound of the bathroom.

"I know I'm not a super agent. But even kids in kindergarten have scrapes that need to be treated all the time." Dani smiles gratefully and then winces in pain as she moves her face too much. "Hold still." You step closer to her and place the bandages against the windowsill. In one hand you hold the cotton wool to disinfect, with the other you brush her messy hair out of her face and gently turn her head. She puts her hand on the wrist of your hand. After a short silence and the occasional hiss of pain, you clear your throat.

"What happened?" You ask quietly, as if that would cause her to tell you more.

Dani helplessly whispers your name. "You know I can't tell you that."

"CIA business, I see." You twist the bottle of alcohol shut and throw the used cotton bits into the bin. You now stick plasters on her wounds and have to concentrate very hard on them so as not to get lost in her eyes.

"You know what, actually I don't understand anything. I hate it. I hate that I don't get to see you much. I hate that most of the time I can only see you when you're hurting and need help. I hate that every time I hear the news, I'm scared that I'm going to hear that CIA agents have been killed. That I can't even hear once in a while if you're still alive and how you're doing. I hate that I can't call you when I've had a bad day. I hate that I can never celebrate good news with you. I hate that I can't forget you. But most of all, I hate that I can't hate you for it."

Dani looks at you with an open mouth, tears beginning to form in her eyes. She straightens up as you frantically pack the medical supplies. "I- I-" She whimpers and looks ashamed at the floor. "Um," she gulps, "I'm losing blood." "Damn it!" You immediately drop everything and catch her as you notice her collapse.

———

"That beautiful dress." You whine softly, preparing it for a wash. You haven't been able to sleep yet - after the first aid, cleaning blood and all the adrenaline, you've lost all sense of tiredness...or at least suppressed it.

"It was Louis Vuitton." You turn quickly to the voice and look at Dani in surprise. "Oh god, my heart!." You blurt, reaching for your heart. You take a couple of steps towards the bed. "How are you?"

"I've been better-" you take a breath to say something "but I've also been worse." You nod, half-convinced, and sit down on the edge of the bed. "I should hope so, this is my bed you're lying in after all." You joke.

"And I'm extremely grateful to you for that." Dani takes your hand. "I mean it. Thank you." Her black eye and wounds - now covered with zoo animal plasters - mark her otherwise elegant and soft face.

"You're welcome." You squeeze her hand and notice a loose plaster. You gently run your hand over it, then stroke her chin with your hand. You've really memorised the feel of her skin. You slide a little closer.

"I don't work for the CIA anymore. Today was my last assignment." Dani whispers, still holding your hand, trying to control her breathing while you are so close.

"What?" You look at her in disbelief. "No more being an agent?"

"Kind of. I'm not incredibly popular there at the moment. So we have a deal. And-" She closes her eyes briefly for courage. "It's getting time to settle down and, who knows, I might want to start a family."

You grin uncontrollably and slowly but surely brush against Dani's lips. "I'm sorry about that, for you and your career." Dani laughs and shakes her head carefully. "No you're not."

You bite your lips lightly as you practically hover over her lips. "No, I'm not. I'm done hating. Today is love." Dani pushes you away and holds her hands over her face as she laughs heartily. "Did you just recite a Tiktok sound? You're crazy."

"And how I am." You fling yourself onto the bed and turn your head in her direction.

"How lucky I was to never forget you." Dani pulls your face towards her with both hands and kisses you passionately.

You break your kiss and stroke her cheek with your thumb. "No unannounced departures?"

[josefavomjaaga]

Elie Baudus about Masséna and Bessières

In volume 2 of his memoirs, Elie Baudus adds a long note about what went on between Masséna and Bessières at the battle of Fuentès de Onoro – the occasion at which Masséna is said to have remarked that, on seeing Bessières arrive at the head of his troops, he had hoped for "a bit more men and a bit less Bessières" - , and about his mission to report to the emperor about that failed battle. Unsurprisingly, Baudus, being an ADC to Bessières, relates the events quite differently to others, writers close to Masséna. As I have not seen Bessières’ side of the story so far, I thought it might be interesting to some.

Be warned though, it’s really very long.

I will place here some memories about the different missions that were entrusted to me at that time, first in contact with this illustrious warrior [Masséna], and in the end with the emperor, after the battle of Fuentès de Onoro. These memories can serve to make known the character of Napoleon, and to demonstrate that, as great as was his firmness, he nevertheless never managed to impose from afar to his generals to be united; they will also show that, despite his willingness to never be in ignorance of anything that was important for him to know, the truth nevertheless had some difficulty getting through to him. In this respect the details that one will read may appear worthy of interest.

In March 1811, Marshal Masséna left Santarem to bring his army back to the Spanish borders. As soon as Marshal Bessières learned about this movement, he gave orders to make the necessary preparations in the provinces of Salamanca and Ciudad-Rodrigo to provide these troops, exhausted by a long and difficult campaign, all that they might need. I was charged with transmitting to the generals in command there the instructions related to what had to be taken care of. On top of that I had orders to visit the place of Almeida, to inform myself about the state of its supplies, so that I could give to Marshal Masséna all the information he might want, as it was also part of my mission to go to his headquarters, in order to offer him from the Duc d'Istrie all support in infantry, artillery and cavalry that he needed. I joined the Prince of Essling between Sabugal and Alfayatès; he answered to the offers I made to him “that he only demanded food.’ I returned to Valladolid, headquarter of the Armée du Nord de l'Espagne, and a couple of days later the army of Portugal arrived under the cannons of Ciudad Rodrigo. Marshal Masséna moved his headquarters to Salamanca, and his troops entered into cantonments.

This rest however would not last much longer than a month, because at the end of April it became necessary to occupy ourselves either with throwing provisions into Almeida, or with lifting the blockade from the English who had tightly surrounded this place from the moment our last columns had crossed the Portuguese border back. Marshal Masséna having informed Marshal Bessières about his plans with regards to this point, the latter sent me to Salamanca to come to an understanding with his colleague about the support the Army of Northern Spain could be called upon to provide for this operation.

Marshal Masséna, to whom I was authorised to promise the cooperation of a large corps of all arms which the Duke of Istria intended to lead in person, told me ‘that he had enough infantry, that the equipment and personnel of his artillery were sufficient; that he only lacked horses’. He therefore asked only for teams for his artillery and as much cavalry as the Duke of Istria could muster in the short time between now and the time when the food situation of the Almeida garrison would force him to begin his movement.

The illustrious victor of Zurich treated me with a kindness and distinction that flattered me infinitely. During my stay at his headquarters, I had the honour of dining tête-à-tête with him several times. The Marshal was so preoccupied with the sad results of his campaign in Portugal that he was willing to talk to me about the causes he attributed to its lack of success. He complained mainly, and with great bitterness, of the inadequacy of the means which the emperor had placed at his disposal, and told me, with a frankness beyond all praise, that in putting him in charge of this difficult operation he had been given a task beyond the strength left to him by so many labours of war. He added that he felt perfectly well that the time had come for him to retire from active service; that after thirteen years as commander-in-chief, it was time to leave this responsibility to officers younger than himself. His exasperation with his master was such that he seemed to have the deep conviction that the Emperor had only employed him in this circumstance in order to make him lose the beautiful name of Cherished Child of Victory which Bonaparte, as General-in-Chief, had bestowed on him on the glorious battlefields of Italy. The vivid complaints of this Nestor of our modern military glory, even more laden with laurels and fatigue than with years, awakened in me the memory of the great things he had done, and caused me an emotion that it would be difficult for me to express. A few days later I was destined to hear, from Napoleon himself, the counterpart to these warm recriminations. On the day of my return to Valladolid, orders were given to assemble all the cavalry available, and Marshal Bessières left the following day at the head of two thousand horses, made up of General Wathier's brigade and eight hundred cavalrymen of the guard, followed by the quantity of horses necessary to harness six batteries of artillery.

When we arrived in Salamanca we no longer found Marshal Masséna; he had left the day before to establish his headquarters in Ciudad-Rodrigo, where we joined him on 1 May. On the 3rd the army marched on Fuentès de Onoro, a large town in a good position on one of the affluents of the Coa. The enemy occupied it with considerable forces; we immediately took steps to dislodge them, but as our attacks were carried out without coordination, this post was taken and retaken several times without result, since after this bloody affair the English still retained part of it. On the 4th we remained in presence; this day passed in the most complete calm. The two Marshals went to reconnoitre carefully the position of the English, and it was decided that the army would make a change of front during the night of the 4th to the 5th, the left wing forward. The preparatory movements for this manoeuvre, which should have been carried out from the outset, took place in the greatest silence. At daylight, we approached the enemy with the advantage given to us, in the first moment, by the sort of confusion in which he was thrown by the execution of this new plan of attack, knowledge of which had been skilfully concealed from him; so we obtained brilliant successes at the beginning of the action. Several fine cavalry charges, led by Marshal Bessières and General Montbrun, overthrew the English corps of all arms that tried to oppose our progress; twelve hundred prisoners were taken, and they withdrew in extraordinary disorder and confusion; for a moment, cavalry, infantry and artillery were all mixed up. Nothing was able to stop the daring march of our squadrons; the enemy was driven hard beyond the position of Fuentès de Onoro where we had needlessly lost so many men on the 3rd, a position which, having been turned and overrun, was then occupied without a fight by one of the divisions of the comte d'Erlon.

Never had a battle been heralded under happier auspices for the French army, and our adversaries would have been infallibly defeated if care had been taken to coordinate the movements of our infantry with those already so decisive of the cavalry. Unfortunately this was not the case; the troops of the Sixth Corps, deprived of their former general, the fiery Marshal Ney, who had just left them, commanded by the leader that the caprice of seniority had imposed on them, were the first to give the example of a disastrous inaction which, first of all, prevented us from taking prisoner two regiments of English infantry whose squares our brave cavalrymen had sabred and broken into; Secondly, this huge mistake also gave Wellington time to make his mark, to restore order in the ranks of his army and to reinforce his lines. So we let slip the moment of victory, that decisive and rapid moment that must be seized as soon as it arises. We stayed in our positions, and the rest of the day was spent in useless skirmishing.

Instead of arriving victorious at the walls of Almeida to rescue the garrison, we had to find a way to get General Brénier de Montmoran, who commanded the place, to blow up the fortifications and try to reach us by passing over the bellies of the troops blockading it. [...] The fortifications were blown up, and the garrison, led by its general, overthrew the English troops who were trying to stop it, and joined our first positions.

It was certainly something to have been able to achieve the double aim of saving the garrison of Almeida and destroying this place by abandoning it; but it would have been better to owe these advantages to a victory over the English. Napoleon could not be unaware for long, as was well known, that serious mistakes had led to the loss of the great opportunities which had arisen to beat them; so efforts were made to bring down upon anyone other than Marshal Masséna and his advisers the anger with which the Emperor was going to be moved when he was informed of what had happened. Marshal Bessières was chosen as the scapegoat; as always happens, the men who had been most at fault in this affair were also the most determined to blame it all on the Marshal Duke of Istria.

The first attempt was made to give credence to the opinion that, in order to be more successful in this operation, it would have been necessary to have more infantry than was available. ‘Marshal Bessières could, it was said, have given this advantage to the army of Portugal by placing at the disposal of Marshal Masséna a detachment from that of the army of the North; but, it was added, he had shown no inclination to do so.’ These rumours were quickly brought to my attention; no one could have been more indignant than I, for I knew how ill-founded they were. It was easy to see why they were being propagated; I warned Marshal Bessières, urging him to take immediate steps to foil this plot; he felt the need to parry the blow that was about to be dealt him. He would certainly have found among my comrades a man whose experience and means, far superior to mine, would have been better suited to fulfilling his aim, but he thought that, having been his sole intermediary in the relations which had been established on this subject between Marshal Masséna and himself, no one better than I could render him this service; I was therefore charged with bringing Napoleon his particular report on this unfortunate affair. This mission was bound to provide me with an opportunity to go into details likely to vindicate the Duke of Istria victoriously against the slanderous accusations that seemed to have been levelled at his conduct.

As luck would have it, Emmanuel Lecouteux, aide-de-camp to the Prince of Neufchatel, who had fought in the Portuguese campaign, was my travelling companion to Paris. The comments made in the army had given him such prejudices against Marshal Bessières that I soon had to give up completely destroying them in his mind; but I at least gained the certainty of a fact which was very important for the success of my mission: It was that if Lecouteux intended to attack the conduct of Marshal Bessières in the account he was going to give of the events of 5 May, he was just as determined not to spare that of his colleague, especially as regards the inexplicable apathy of the general commanding the Sixth Corps.

At Bayonne we passed the aide-de-camp that the Prince of Essling had sent to the Emperor after the affair of 5 May. This officer, we were told, was so seriously ill on arriving in this town that he had been unable to proceed, and had been forced to entrust the letters he was carrying to the estafette, so that they would not be delayed.

When we arrived in Paris, the emperor had just left to visit Normandy. The major general was at Grosbois. Lecouteux joined him before me; he was aide-de-camp to this prince, who moreover did not like Marshal Bessières; the special favour with which he was treated therefore did not surprise me. He was sent straight away to Cherbourg, while I waited eight hours for orders to take the same route.

When I got out of the carriage at Cherbourg, I went to the palace; there I learned that Lecouteux had already had his audience; the one I was granted had hardly begun when it was easy for me to recognise, from the vivacity with which Napoleon spoke, that he was under the influence of the reports which had already reached him and of the conversation which he had just had with the officer who had preceded me; but I must do justice to the loyal Lecouteux that, in his indignation, he did not spare any of those whom he judged guilty of having caused so great an affair to fail. I was therefore prepared for it; nevertheless, I was far from expecting all the violence that the emperor brought to this discussion; it surprised me all the more because before starting it His Majesty had been friendly to me in a way that I was not accustomed to from him.

‘That Marshal Masséna has made great mistakes, that he has failed in this campaign,’ he told me, ‘I am not surprised about that; he is, I see, a very worn-out man; he is not now capable of commanding four men and a corporal! I had given him a great opportunity to end his career gloriously; he didn't take advantage of it! But Bessières! Bessières is in the prime of life, Bessières is totally devoted to me! How did he manage my affairs so badly? What reason could have prevented him from joining the army of Portugal with a large part of his infantry, etc., etc.?’ To combat Napoleon's ideas, all I had to do was to report exactly the terms in which, during my second trip to Salamanca, I had been asked to offer the Marshal Prince of Essling all kinds of assistance in the name of Marshal Bessières; this is what I did, while also reporting the response which had been made to my proposal. It was not part of my mission, it could not suit my character to cast blame on anyone in Napoleon's mind, without being forced to do so; but my duty was to defend the Marshal, and, from the moment when the expressions used by the Emperor, the details into which he went, as well as the violence of the reproaches which he made of the conduct of the Duke of Istria in this whole affair, offered me convincing proof that one had had the indignity to leave no stone unturned to destroy him, by presenting him as solely guilty of the faults which had been committed, I no longer had anything to spare. So I did not hesitate to declare to the Emperor that he had been deceived as to the real causes to which the sad results of this operation were to be attributed; that a more natural explanation could be found in the sort of apathy with which the chief of the Sixth Corps had been struck, and in the inconceivable inaction in which his troops had remained, to the point that he had had them arrested, in order to let them eat, at the very moment when the cavalry was covering itself with glory by the most important successes, and consequently at the moment when it would have been necessary to follow its movements in order to take advantage of them. I assured him that the general opinion in the army was that, if our infantry had been led with as much vigour as our cavalry had been, the English army would have been defeated in a position where it would have suffered immense losses, since it would then have found itself cornered by the Coa, a river deeply embanked and difficult to cross.

The thought that his troops had held the fate of the English army in their hands, and that his generals had let slip this opportunity, the best one yet presented to destroy it, irritated Napoleon to a point difficult to express. He exclaimed several times in reference to them: ‘They don't want it any more! They don't want to fight any more!’. It is certain that, from this time onwards, we could already see some general officers showing this disgust, this weariness for this permanent state of war, which, increasing all the time, bore such deplorable fruit in the last campaigns of the Empire, and especially in the catastrophe which ended them in 1815. This is hardly surprising, since many of these officers had grown old and could therefore no longer muster the ardour which in their youth had led them to perform such fine feats of arms. There were also some who, having obtained more advancement and fortune than they could reasonably flatter themselves with, were less inclined then to throw themselves headlong into the hazards than they did when they had their way and their fortune to make. Such was the opinion of many people at the time; it was also mine. So, urged on by the sharp question that Napoleon had addressed to me several times in succession, coming back to me quickly and pressing the tips of two of his fingers on my chest: ‘But explain to me why they don't fight any more’, I ended up telling him frankly: ‘You have made them too rich, Sire; they still fight well, but they no longer have the same desire to be killed, to do more than their duty’. - You are right,’ he replied.

The outburst of this imposing man would probably have intimidated me if I had only had to deal with him on an entirely personal matter; but here it was a question of my general, a man to whom I was attached by the feeling of the most intense gratitude. The injustice with which Napoleon, forewarned as he was, expressed himself on the Marshal's account, outraged me and saved me from this danger. I replied to this prince with warmth and firmness; I disputed what was exaggerated or completely false in the reproaches he addressed to him; I proved to him as best I could that he had been deceived. The weapon of calumny had been used to ruin the marshal, and I had to tell the whole truth to repel it. I spared nothing, I called men and things by their names. Napoleon's lively and pressing questions led me to let my soul overflow with the disgust I felt at the pillage, excesses and disorders of all kinds that had unfortunately marked the presence of his troops in Spain, but especially in Portugal. In this respect, I could attack without fear of reprisals; for in this respect, as in all that was in the domain of honour and delicacy, the Duke of Istria was admirably pure. Perhaps the details I gave the emperor reached his ear for the first time in their awful nakedness; at least I must have thought so, for they moved him to such an extent that, striding around his flat with the appearance of the greatest agitation, he interrupted me several times, coming back to me, to say: ‘It's impossible; you're deceiving me; you're not telling me the truth’. - ‘All that I have the honour of telling Your Majesty,’ I replied, ‘is correct, and the reproach that Your Majesty addresses to me would lead me to believe that Your Majesty has never really known the truth about his affairs in Spain; besides, they would have gone better if Your Majesty had known everything that was going on there.’’

All my efforts were in vain; I did not obtain, or at least I was forced to believe that I had not obtained the result I sought above all else, that of destroying the prejudices of this prince against Marshal Bessières. In the irritation caused by the mere thought of this missed opportunity, he needed not a culprit, but culprits against whom he could lash out. The Emperor therefore examined the Marshal's conduct once again and attacked him on new points. It is well known what jealous care Napoleon took in the campaign to preserve the guard, what self-love he put into writing in his bulletins: ‘La garde n'a pas donné’. Well! he reproached the marshal for not having charged with what he had on hand of the different cavalry regiments of this elite corps. All I had to do to destroy it was to give the Emperor, in even greater detail, the account of what the cavalry had done admirably, and to remind him how useless its efforts had been, thanks to the inaction of the infantry. I added that the Marshal was so far from believing that the movement of the Sixth Corps would be stopped at such a decisive moment, that he had sent for the guard with orders to place them in a position where they would be able to immediately complement the successes of their brothers in arms.

It often happened to Napoleon to criticise the conduct of his generals by comparing it with that which he had successfully carried out in circumstances more or less similar to those of the affair whose details he was discussing; almost always the comparison was damning, so great was the distance between his genius for war and their military talents; but sometimes this comparison lacked fairness; thus when, putting himself by thought in the situation where Marshal Bessières had found himself, he said to me, recalling the prodigies of activity to which he had owed the brilliant results of one of the most beautiful affairs of his Italian campaigns, that Napoleon would have gathered such a number of regiments, joined the army of Portugal and beaten Wellington. ‘Oh, without doubt, if you had been present, Sire, the English would have been defeated; for you would have been the master, whereas the Marshal was not, and in this position Your Majesty himself could not have done better; he will allow me to tell him so.’ Indeed, knowing, with the greatest accuracy, the location of the bodies and the distances they would have had to travel to reach a general meeting point on the road from Valladolid to Salamanca; knowing, moreover, the extreme difficulty that it would have been to have them prepare supplies on this line, I demonstrated to him on his maps the impossibility of executing the movements that he reproached Marshal Bessières for not having made, circumscribed as he was, in the short space of time left to him by the time fixed by Marshal Masséna for the beginning of his operations; a time so irrevocably fixed that the Prince of Essling had not even waited for us to set himself in motion. ‘I cannot repeat to you too often, Sire,’ I said in conclusion, ‘that the position of Marshal Bessières was entirely secondary; that his conduct in this affair was entirely subordinate to that of Marshal Masséna, since to the latter belonged exclusively the initiative of the decision in all that related to this expedition’. There was probably nothing to oppose to these objections; perhaps also, in the state of irritation in which I was, I had made the mistake of expressing myself too strongly; in any case, Napoleon only replied by saying to me: ‘Get out, get out; you are too young to reason about these things’.

The way in which I had just been dismissed did not please me, as one can easily believe. I could only be surprised to a certain extent, however, when I considered that in this conference, which had lasted more than an hour, I had been forced to contradict the emperor in almost all his assertions.

Before the singular exaltation to which my head had risen had subsided, one of Napoleon's aides-de-camp called me into the garden of the hotel where the emperor had stayed, and told me sternly: ‘The emperor is very displeased with the tone you have taken in answering the questions he has put to you; he is above all quite convinced that you have not told him the truth’. This persistence in such an insulting opinion brought tears of rage to my eyes, and my desire to serve the Marshal was the only thing that kept me calm enough to endure this new discussion, in which I repeated with less gentleness, and even more forcefully if possible, what I had already said to the Emperor.

On leaving this aide-de-camp I went to see Marshal Duroc, a close friend of the Duc d'Istrie; I told him what had just happened, and, making complete abnegation of what was personal to me, I asked him to guide me, to tell me what was best to do in the interests of Monsieur le Maréchal, and whether he thought my presence in Cherbourg could still be useful to the affairs of my patron. The Duke of Frioul had already heard about what had happened to me; he invited me to dinner, promised me to go and get information and to work towards making the emperor reconsider his prejudices. The Duke of Frioul did not fail in the duties of friendship, but the approach he made to Napoleon was probably badly received; at least it was fruitless for the moment, for, on leaving the table, he took me aside, told me that the Emperor was excessively upset with the Marshal, and that, as it was not to be presumed, from the state of irritation in which he had found the Prince, that the latter would have me recalled, I would do well to return to Paris to take orders from the Major General. That very evening I sadly took the road back to the capital, well convinced that the Duke of Istria was a man lost in the mind of his master.

Madame la maréchale, who was quite seriously ill at the time, was with her father at Croissy; after changing horses at Saint-Germain, I arranged to be taken to her; but not wishing to distress her, and fearing above all that I might aggravate her unfortunate condition if I gave her some details of my mission, I did not say a word to her about the sad state of her husband's affairs; I spoke only to her father. A few days later, Prince Eugène, who had accompanied the Emperor to Cherbourg, went to visit her and surprised her greatly when he said: ‘Well, Madame la Maréchale, your aide-de-camp was really scared! The Emperor was terribly angry with him; but this officer was very wrong to leave so quickly, because, while lunching with His Majesty the next day, I heard him give the order to send for him, saying to me: "I lost my temper with Bessières’ aide-de-camp; he is a good man, he defended his general well."' It is easy to get an idea of the regret I felt when these details became known to me. I had the honour of seeing Prince Eugène, who was so kind as to repeat them to me, and to put my mind at rest about my fear that my too hasty departure would have been detrimental to the interests I was charged with defending. I had proof that he had not been mistaken, for from that time onwards the marshal was treated by the emperor with a favour similar to that which he had already enjoyed before his dispute with Fouché over the divorce.

What I find most interesting is the "race" of the three aides to reach Napoleon first, and how people in key positions, like Berthier, on purpose or not could influence what information would reach Napoleon, and when. This echoes what Brun relates about his time in Vienna, where he had gone to explain the "roi Nicolas" incident to Napoleon. There, too, Napoleon was already taken in favour of one side before even getting to hear the other.

And of course the trio of regular guys at Napoleon's court, Bessières, Duroc and Eugène, trying to work together and to help each other out.