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alyygx · 2 months

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Band of Brothers Easy Company Sorted Between Surviving and Not Surviving WWII: Part 1 of 2

Hey all! Here is part 1 of my big BoB post!!! I still have some work to do on part 2 but I will try to have it up as soon as I can. I hope you all find this useful and also a little bit interesting. I had so much fun doing the research for it. 🙂❤️

Enjoy!!! xoxo

Died During the War:

Company Commanders:

First Lieutenant Thomas Meehan III

Born: July 8th, 1921 (Philadelphia, PA)

Enlisted: March 16th, 1941 (Philadelphia, PA)

Died: June 6th, 1944/ D-Day (Normandy, France)

Age at Death: 22 years old

Cause of Death: Plane shot down and crashed after being hit by German anti-aircraft fire.

• His remains were finally returned to the U.S. in 1952 and he is currently buried at the Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery just south of St. Louis, Missouri

Awards/Medals:

• Parachutists Badge (aka Jump Wings)

• Combat Infantry Badge

• American Campaign Medal

• Purple Heart

• European-African-Middle Eastern Campaign Medal (with 2 service stars)

• World War II Victory Medal

• French Liberation Medal

• Croix de guerre with palm

Wounded?: No (died before seeing any combat)

Family:

• Thomas Meehan II (Father)

• Marion Opp Meehan (Mother)

• Anne Shore (Wife)

• Barrie Meehan Meller (Daughter)

Non-commissioned Officers:

Sergeant Warren Harold "Skip" Muck

Born: January 31st, 1922 (Tonawanda, NY)

Enlisted: August 17th, 1942 (Buffalo, NY)

Died: January 10th, 1945 (Foy, Bastogne, Belgium)

Age at Death: 22 years old

Cause of Death: Killed when an artillery round hit his foxhole, shared with Alex Penkala, and exploded.

• Skip Muck is buried at the Luxembourg American Cemetery in Hamm, Luxembourg City, Luxembourg.

Awards/Medals:

• Parachutists Badge (aka Jump Wings) with 2 combat stars

• Combat Infantryman Badge

• Bronze Star

• Purple Heart

• Presidential Unit Citation (with one Oak Leaf Cluster)

• European-African-Middle Eastern Campaign Medal (with 3 service stars and arrow device)

• World War II Victory Medal

• Army of Occupation Medal

• Croix de guerre with palm

• French Liberation Medal

• Belgian World War II Service Medal

Fought:

• D-Day/Battle of Normandy (Normandy, France)

• Operation Market Garden (Einhoven, Holland)

• Battle of the Bulge (Ardennes Forrest, Bastogne, Belgium)

Wounded?: Never wounded until KIA in Bastogne

Family:

• Elmer Julius Muck Sr. (Father)

• Loretta M. Muck (Mother)

• Elmer J. Muck Jr. (Older Brother)

• Ruth Muck (Younger Sister)

• Faye Tanner (Fiancée)

Enlisted Men:

Corporal Donald B. "Hoob" Hoobler

Born: June 28th, 1922 (Manchester, OH)

Enlisted: July 22nd, 1942 (Fort Thomas, KY)

• Joined the Ohio National Guard on October 15th, 1940 and served until October 1941.

Died: January 3rd, 1945 (Bastogne, Belgium)

• Don Hoobler is buried at Manchester IOOF Cemetery with his father (d. 1941), mother (d. 1976), and brother George (d. 1932).

Age at Death: 22 years old

Cause of Death: After acquiring a German Luger and placing the gun in his pocket the gun discharged due to the pressure of the multiple layers of clothing he was wearing and severed the femoral artery in his right leg. He bled out and died before he was able to be transported to an aid station.

Awards/Medals:

• Parachutists Badge (aka Jump Wings)

• Combat Infantryman Badge

• Purple Heart

• American Defense Medal

• European Theater of Operations Ribbon

Fought:

• Battle of Normandy/D-Day (Normandy, France)

• Operation Market Garden (Einhoven, Holland)

• Battle of the Bulge (Ardennes Forrest, Bastogne, Belgium)

Wounded?: No. Not until his fatal non-combat related gunshot wound to his leg in Bastogne.

Family:

• Sergeant Ralph Brenton Hoobler (Father)

• Kathryn Phyllis [Carrigan] Hoobler (Mother)

• John R. Hoobler (Brother)

• George B. Hoobler (Brother)

• Mary Kathryn [Hoobler] Lane (Sister)

Private First Class Alex Mike Penkala Jr.

Born: August 30th, 1924 (Niles, Michigan)

Drafted: February 27th, 1942 (Toledo, OH)

Died: January 10th, 1945 (Foy, Bastogne, Belgium)

Age at Death: 20 years old

Cause of Death: Killed when an artillery round hit his foxhole, shared with Skip Muck, and exploded.

• Alex Penkala is buried at the Luxembourg American Cemetery in Hamm, Luxembourg City, Luxembourg.

Awards/Medals:

• Parachutists Badge (aka Jump Wings)

• Combat Infantryman Badge

• Purple Heart

• Bronze Star

• American Campaign Medal

• European-African-Middle Eastern Campaign Medal (with 3 service stars and arrowhead)

• World War Two Victory Medal

• Reconnaissance de la France Libérée

• Croix de guerre with palm

• Médaille commémorative de la Guerre

• Good Conduct Medal

Fought:

• Battle of Normandy/D-Day (Normandy, France)

• Operation Market Garden (Einhoven, Holland)

• Battle of the Bulge (Ardennes Forrest, Bastogne, Belgium)

Wounded?: Wounded by a mortar explosion in the arm in Bastogne.

Family: Alex Penkala's parents emigrated from Poland in 1906 and his father barely spoke English. All the Penkala children (including Alex) were fluent in Polish.

• Alexander Penkala Sr. (Father)

• Mary [Kinski] Penkala (Mother) *died in childbirth in 1927 delivering her 13th child

• Angela M. [Penkala] Sobczyk (Oldest Sister)

• Mary [Penkala] Setlak (2nd Oldest Sister)

• Helen E. [Penkala] Hawblitzel (3rd Oldest Sister)

• Matilda V. [Penkala] Budney (4th Oldest Sister)

• Genevieve A. [Penkala] Glujas (5th Oldest Sister)

• Edward F. Penkala (Oldest Brother)

• Clem J. Penkala (2nd Oldest Brother)

• Evelyn A. [Penkala] Tatay (6th Oldest Sister)

• Irene [Penkala] Lichatowich (7th Oldest Sister)

• Rose L. [Penkala] Kaczmarczyk (2nd Youngest Sister)

• Gertrude E. [Penkala] Picking (Youngest Sister)

• Sylvia (Girlfriend)

Survived the War:

Company Commanders:

Captain Herbert Maxwell Sobel

Born: January 26th, 1912 (Chicago, IL)

Enlisted: March, 7th 1941

Died: September 30th, 1987 (Waukegan, IL)

Age at Death: 75 years old

Cause of Death: Malnutrition

• In 1970 Sobal shot himself in the head in an attempted suicide. The bullet entered his temple and severed his optic nerve rendering him blind for the rest of his life.

• He died a Lieutenant Colonel; serving in both WWII & Korea

• Sobel was cremated after his death

• Sobel is buried at Montrose Cemetery-Crematorium in Chicago, IL

• No one attended his funeral

Awards/Medals:

• Parachutists Badge (aka Jump Wings)

• Combat Infantryman Badge

• Bronze Star Medal

• American Campaign Medal

• European-African-Middle Eastern Campaign Medal

• World War II Victory Medal

• Croix de guerre (France)

Fought:

• Battle of Normandy/D-Day (Normandy, France)

• Operation Market Garden (Einhoven, Holland)

• Battle of the Bulge (Ardennes Forrest, Bastogne, Belgium)

Wounded?: No

After the War: Worked as a credit manager for a telephone equipment company in Chicago.

• Sobel was born into a Jewish family, his wife was devoutly Catholic. This was a major problem for his family.

• Sobel and his wife divorced sometime in the late 1960s and he became estranged from his family shortly after.

Family:

• Max H. Sobel (Father)

• Dora Friedman (Mother)

• Julian Sobel (Brother)

• Maxine Sobel (Brother)

• Ruth Sobel (Sister)

• Rose Sobel (Wife)

• Michael Sobel (Son)

• Herbert Sobel Jr. (Son)

• Rick Sobel (Son)

• 1 daughter (died a few days after birth)

Major Richard Davis "Dick" Winters

Born: January 21st, 1918 (New Holland, PA)

Enlisted: August 25th, 1941 (place unknown)

Died: January 2nd, 2011 (Campbelltown, PA)

Age at Death: 92 years old

Cause of Death: Parkinson's disease

• Dick is buried at Bergstrasse Evangelical Lutheran Church, Ephrata Township, PA and was laid to rest on January 8th, 2011.

Awards/Medals:

• Parachutists Badge (with 2 Combat Stars)

• Combat Infantryman Badge

• Medal of the City of Einhoven

• Distinguish Service Cross [The second highest medal awarded by the US Military]

• Bronze Star with one Oak Leaf Cluster

• Purple Heart

• Presidential Unit Citation with one Oak Leaf Cluster

• American Defense Medal

• National Defense Medal

• European-African-Middle Eastern Campaign Medal

• World War II Victory Medal

• Army of Occupation Medal

• Croix de guerre with palm

• French Liberation Medal

• War Cross (Belgium) with palm

• Belgian World War II Medal

Fought:

• Battle of Normandy/D-Day (Normandy, France)

• Operation Market Garden (Einhoven, Holland)

• Battle of the Bulge (Ardennes Forrest, Bastogne, Belgium)

• Western Allied invasion of Germany

Wounded?: Took a ricochet sniper bullet to the leg in Carentan.

After the War: Became a production assistant at Nixon Nitration Works, a plastics adhesive factory, in Raritan, NJ

Family:

• Richard Winters (Father)

• Edith Winters (Mother)

• Beatrice Winters (Sister)

• Ann Sheehan (Younger Sister)

• Ethel Estoppey Winters (Wife)

• Richard T. Winters (Son)

• Jill Peckelun (Daughter)

First Lieutenant Frederick Theodore "Moose" Heyliger

Born: June 23rd, 1916 (Acton, MA)

Enlisted: November 25th, 1940

Died: November 3rd, 2001 (Concord, MA)

• Moose is buried in Sleepy Hollow Cemetery

Age at Death: 85 years old

Cause of Death: Stroke

Awards/Medals:

• Parachutists Badge (aka Jump Wings)

• Bronze Star

• Purple Heart

• American Campaign Medal

• European-African-Middle Eastern Campaign Medal

• Military Cross

Fought:

• Battle of Normandy/D-Day (Normandy, France)

• Operation Market Garden (Einhoven, Holland)

Wounded?: Was accidentally shot by one of his own men (a replacement) on October 31st, 1944. His wounds caused him to need to undergo skin and nerve grafts. He was discharged from the army in February 1947 after being in military hospitals for nearly 3 years.

After the War: Worked as a salesman for landscape and agriculture chemical companies.

Family:

• Theodore Godet Heyliger (Father)

• Bertha Louise Heyliger (Mother)

• Johannes Almon Heyliger (Older Brother)

• Pauline Louise Heyliger (Older Sister)

• Howard Francis Heyliger (2nd Oldest Brother)

• Vic Heyliger (Younger Brother)

• Evelyn Davis (First Wife) [divorced early 1960s]

• Frederick Heyliger Jr. (Son)

• Diane Heyliger (Daughter)

• Mary Heyliger (Second Wife)

• Jon Heyliger (Son)

First Lieutenant Norman Staunton "Foxhole Norman" Dike Jr.

Born: May 19th, 1918 (Brooklyn, NY)

Enlisted: January 22nd, 1942

Died: June 23rd, 1989 (Rolle, Switzerland)

• Dike is buried at West Thompson Cemetery, Thompson Windham County, North Grosvenor Dale, Connecticut.

Age at Death: 71 years old

Cause of Death: "A long illness" is all the info I could find

Awards/Medals:

• Silver Star

• Bronze Star with Oak Leaf Cluster

• Purple Heart with Oak Leaf Cluster

• Order of Orange-Nassau Netherlands 2nd class

Fought:

• Operation Market Garden

• Battle of the Bulge

Wounded?: Shot in the right shoulder in Foy

After the War: Dike opened his own law practice in Switzerland

Family:

• Norman S. Dike Sr. (Father)

• Evelyn M. Biddle (Mother)

• Barbra Tredick Dimmick McIntire (Wife) (m. June 20th 1942 - divorced June 1946)

• Catherine Pochon (2nd Wife) (m. March 12th, 1957)

• Anthony Randolph Dike (Son)

• Robin Dike Auchincloss (Daughter)

• Barbra Matilda Dike (Daughter)

• Deborah Ann Dike (Daughter)

Captain Ronald Charles Speirs

Born: April 20th, 1920 (Edinburgh, United Kingdom)

Enlisted: April 11th 1942

Died: April 11th, 2007 (Saint Marie, Montana)

Age at Death: 86 years old

Cause of Death: Died suddenly; cause unknown

• Burial details unknown

Awards/Medals:

• Master Parachutist Badge with 4 combat jump devices (stars)

• Combat Infantry Badge 2nd Award

• Silver star

• Legion of Merit

• Bronze Star with 2 Oak Leaf Clusters

• Purple Heart with ne Oak Leaf Clusters

• Army Commendation Medal

• Presidential Unit Citation with one Oak Leaf Cluster

• American Campaign Medal

• European-African-Middle Eastern Campaign Medal with four Service Stars and Arrowhead Device

• World War II Victory Medal

• Army of Occupation Medal

• National Defense Service Medal with Service Star

• Korean Service Medal with four Service Stars and Arrowhead Device

• Croix de Guerre with palm

• French Liberation Medal

• Republic of Korea Presidential Unit Citation

• United Nations Korea Medal

• Korean War Service Medal

Fought:

• Battle of Normandy/DDay

• Operation Market Garden

• Battle of the Bulge

Wounded?: Wounded by fire from an enemy machine gun in Rendijk, Holland

After the War: After WWII Spiers stayed in the army for 22 years and served in both the Korean and Cold Wars. Once out of the army Speirs served as the Governor of Spandau Prison (where Nazi war criminals were held).

Family:

• Robert Spiers (Father)

• Martha McNeil (Mother)

• Margaret Griffiths (Wife) (m. May 20th, 1944 - 1946) * Divorced bc she was British and didnt't want to move to America with him.

• Leonie Gertrude Hume Fritz (2nd Wife) (m. 1958)

• Ramona Dolores Pujol Strumph (3rd Wife) (m. 1987)

• Robert (Son from 1st wife)

Junior Officers:

Captain Lewis Nixon

Born: September 30th, 1918 (New York, NY)

Enlisted: January 14th, 1941 (Trenton, NJ)

Died: January 11th, 1995 (Los Angeles, CA)

Age at Death: 76 years old

Cause of Death: Complications from diabetes

• Lew is buried at Forest Lawn Memorial Park in Hollywood Hills

Awards/Medals:

• Parachutist Badge (Jump Wings) with 3 combat stars

• Combat Infantyman Badge

• Purple Heart

• American Defense Medal

• European-African-Middle Eastern Campaign Ribbion with 3 Battle Stars and a Bronze Arrowhead

• World War Two Victory Medal

• World Was Two Army of Occupation Award with Germany Clasp

• French Criox de Guerre (Cross of Valor)

• Presidential Unit Citation with Bronze Oak Leaf

• 5 Overseas Service Stripes

• Ruptured Duck Patch (WWII Discharge Patch)

Fought:

• Battle of Normandy/DDay

• Operation Market Garden

• Battle of the Bulge

• Operation Varsity

Wounded?: In the Netherlands he was hit by a bullet from a German MG 42 machine gun. The bullet went through his helmet, grazed his forehead, and left a burn mark.

After the War: Nix worked at his family's Nixon Nitration Works in Edison, New Jersey alongside his father and friend Dick Winters.

Family:

• Stanhope Wood Nixon (father)

• Doris Ryer Nixon (mother)

• Fletcher Ryer Nixon (brother)

• Blanche Nixon (sister)

• Katharine Page (1st Wife) (m. December 20th, 1941 - 1944)

• Irene Miller (2nd Wife) (m. June 1946 - 1962)

• Grace Umezawa (3rd Wife) (m. 1962)

• Michael Nixon (Son with 1st Wife)

First Lieutenant Lynn Davis "Buck" Compton

Born: December 31st, 1921 (Los Angeles, CA)

Enlisted: Was already ROTC (started 1940) when the war broke out (graduated in 1943 and assigned to the 176th Infantry Regiment)

Died: February 25th, 2012 (Burlington, WA)

Age at Death: 90 years old

Cause of Death: Complications from a heart attack he had in January 2012

• Buck was cremated after his death and his ashes were given to his family

Awards/Medals:

• Parachutist Badge (Jump Wings) with 2 jump stars

• Combat Infantryman Badge

• Silver Star

• Bronze Star

• Purple Heart

• Presidential Unit Citation with one Oak Leaf Cluster

• American Defense Service Medal

• American Campaign Medal

• European-African-Middle Eastern Campaign Medal with arrow device (airborne assult) and 3 campaign stars

• World War II Victory Medal

• Army of Occupation Medal

• French Croix de guere with palm

• French Liberation Medal

Fought:

• Battle of Normandy/DDay

• Operation Market Garden

• Battle of the Bulge

Wounded?: In 1944, during Operation Market Garden, Buck was shot in the backside. Then, in January 1945, Buck suffered severe battle fatigue after witnessing two close friends (Joe Toye and Bill Guarnere) badly wounded by artillery fire.

After the War: He attended Loyola Law School in Los Angeles and joined the LA Police Department in 1946 becoming a detective in the Central Burglary Division. He left the LAPD for the District Attorney's office in 1951 as a deputy district attorney. He was promoted in 1964 to chief deputy district attorney. In 1970, Governor Ronald Reagan appointed him an Associate Justice of the California Court of Appeal. He retired in 1990.

• (Fun Fact/Before the War) Buck played as the catcher on his college baseball team his junior year. One of his teammates was Jackie Robinson. Also, Bucks mother worked on movies and Buck was present on set with his mother and met actor Charlie Chaplin. Buck, being a child at the time, was so rowdy and disruptive that Charlie Chaplin kicked him off set.

Family:

• Roby Franks Compton (Father)

• Ethel Camille Compton (Mother)

• Geraldine Compton (1st Wife)

• Donna Faye Newman Compton (2nd Wife)

• Tracy Compton (adopted daughter w/ 2nd wife)

• Syndee Compton (adopted daughter w/ 2nd wife)

#band of brothers #thomas meehan #skip muck #donald hoobler #alex penkala #herbert sobel #dick winters #moose heyliger #norman dike #ronald speirs #lewis nixon #buck compton #part 1 #alyygx

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loversj0y · 11 months

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'tis the damn season

chapter three - the road not taken looks real good now

swirling, bubbling anxieties grow as time begins to tick on winter break, you can only hold onto so much uncertainty before it starts to slip through your fingers.

tis the damn season masterlist

pairing: cc!wilbur soot x gn!reader

this chapter is more angst-focused, but there is fluff as well. consider it a hurt/comfort

trigger warnings: reader's mother is abusive (not physically) and father is emotionally absent. this will be talked about in extensive detail. alcohol, some suggestive themes, and a lot of anxiety, MAJOR TW FOR PANIC ATTACK

author's note: so listen. a lot of the original plot of the song 'tis the damn season relies on ye-olde miscommunication trope. i hate that trope because we are adults here who talk about our feelings! sometimes it doesnt help though! but we take what we can get! this chapter is a really long one as well because the communication is such a hefty bulk of it ao3 version is available here!

word count: 11.0k

The next four days remained like this; a calm domestic bliss. You did end up going on Wilbur’s stream, but you ended up being unseen in the background while he played Geoguessr. His chat was really nice though.

“Wilbur, I’m telling you, it’s Luxembourg.”

“I know you think that, but I’m like 99% certain it’s Belgium.” He checked the chat briefly, where everyone was agreeing with you. “Chat, shut up, you led me astray last time.” However, once he’d selected Belgium, he was quickly proven wrong, slamming a hand down on the table before placing his hand over his face. He slowly turned to where you were giving him a knowing look.

“What did I tell you?”

“That it was Luxembourg,” he mumbled meekly.

“And what did you select?”

“Belgium.”

“Mmhm. I told you so.”

He threw his head back with a groan while chat proceeded to make fun of him and praise you.

“I expect a full apology after stream.” You grinned at him, both of you knowing you were just asking for a kiss.

He grinned back at you, turning back to the stream where a few keen eyes noticed the faint flush on his cheeks. Most others in chat just made a comment about him being in trouble.

Every day was a good one with him, though. With your parents knowing that you were with Wilbur, they backed off far more, meaning you and him were able to stay in your little bubble together. You started freaking out by the 5th day though. You had two days - technically three, but you had to get the train to London around 9 pm, so it wasn’t exactly a whole day. You just kept thinking about when you’d get home to your shitty flat and your shitty roommates and that shitty fucking city. You felt yourself missing Wilbur’s arms the more you thought about it, even when he was right next to you. You were up for hours that night, riddled with fears and anxieties about the next weeks. Yes, you and Wilbur had a plan to just see how things go and figure it out as you went, but some part of you just could not accept it. For whatever reason, it actually filled you with more anxiety. Mainly because you know yourself better than Wilbur does now, you know your workload, everything that you do each day, and just how little time you have. If it weren’t for the fact that you knew you’d probably have an assignment due immediately the first week back, you could’ve at least consoled yourself with the idea of going down to visit him in Brighton. But you didn’t even have that.

Part of you wanted to fight with him. You wanted to nitpick and find some tiny detail you could start some stupid fight about. It would be so much easier to go back if he hated you again. You wouldn’t feel the ball of guilt in your chest growing in size every time he brought up the future. It would crush you, but at least then he wouldn’t wait for you. Maybe he could move on if you made him hate you again.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to really do that. As strongly as you refused to admit it, you love him. And maybe it was selfish of you to hold on. Regardless, it did not change how you felt.

The guilt grew in your chest as you continued down the mental rabbit hole. You thought about the first few weeks in London. The ache that lived in you now because of how much you missed him. While you got used to the ache, you knew that it would be bigger now once you returned to London. Even worse, you knew he felt it now too. Originally, you could hide your guilt in the farce that he hated you, but now, knowing the truth, you knew that he would share in that ache, the same ache that led you to accept his proposal of going back to his place two weeks ago.

In your head, you entertained an idea. This idea is that everything would be alright if you didn’t have your obligations in London. He would ask you to stay with him, and you would accept. He wouldn’t have to worry about waiting for you. You’d leave your shitty apartment and the so-called friends to move in with him in Brighton, where you’d be happy because you were with him. He’d introduce you to more of his friends until you were a naturally integrated part of their dynamic. You’d help him and his friends with making videos and writing scripts. And everything would be perfect. You’d be happy. You would’ve taken the road less traveled and it would’ve been just as good as you’d imagined it.

But it wasn’t real. You worked your ass off to get into a good school, and you continued to work your ass off to graduate. You, unfortunately, couldn’t just freely abandon everything you’d worked for just because you found happiness in him once again.

You don’t know when you started crying. Somewhere in the mess of thinking about the future and fearing that you’d lose Wilbur again. You didn’t want him to see you like this, let alone wake up to this. You unraveled yourself from his arms, quickly heading to his bathroom. You sat against the locked door, sobbing softly into your hands. You didn’t want to admit how terrified you were, you wanted to hate him, you wanted something that would make this easier and make the ache lessen. You were overwhelmed by the ball in your chest reminding you of every obligation and responsibility and fear that you had. You felt like you were crashing, but you didn’t know what towards. You felt yourself wishing you never showed up, wishing you never went to the pub that night, never had agreed to go back to his place, never spoken to him, never kissed him in the dark of his room, everything you regretted. Only because as happy as he made you, he made the thought of leaving that much more painful.

You heard footsteps and took a deep, shaky breath, trying to silence your own breakdown.

He knocked on the door, “Babe? You alright?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, scared to use your voice.

But you had to, regardless, “Uhm-“ your voice cracked meekly, “Yeah, I’m- I’m fine.” You very obviously were not, but you didn’t want him to know.

He wouldn’t let it go that easily though, “Can I come in?”

You didn’t give a response. You took another shaky breath, wiping at your eyes. You stood slowly, shaking far more than you’d realized. Your hand lay on the doorknob for a moment. He wouldn’t just walk away, you knew that. You were just hoping you could be more put together when he woke up.

You opened the door slowly, looking up to meet his eyes.

You recognized alarm flashing over his face before he opened his arms for you, “Come here love.”

You went into his arms, fighting the urge to cry even harder now.

“What’s going on?” He asked, speaking softly as if the world would crack.

“I’m just-“ a shaky sob broke your sentence, “I’m overwhelmed.”

He nodded, holding you closer. He wanted to ask more, but instead, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Let’s go lay down, you can cry it out, and then we can talk. Does that sound good?”

You didn’t want to talk about it, truthfully, but it was better than sitting on the cold bathroom floor at least. You nodded, and he pulled away to walk both of you back to bed. He laid down first, opening his arms for you once again, and you did not hesitate to pull yourself into him. You tried to hold back from breaking down completely again, but once you were in his arms, everything came back all at once. That overwhelming feeling took over once more, and you cried and sobbed like a child against him. He held you the whole time, which only made you cry harder as you thought of leaving him and this safe haven of his bedroom. If you had it your way, you’d never even leave this bed. Your own felt cold in comparison to his. He rubbed your back to console you, singing softly under his breath. Sobs eventually turned into sighs, and you came out from Will’s arms, rubbing at your eyes.

“‘M sorry. Just had a bad night.”

You sat on your heels in front of him, trying to avoid his eye line.

He placed his hands on your hips, rubbing your sides, “Don’t apologize. What’s on your mind?”

You ran a hand through your hair, “A lot.”

He was quiet for a moment, waiting for you to elaborate. When you didn’t, he spoke again, “Do you want to go for a walk? Maybe get some fresh air?”

Honestly, some air sounded fantastic. The cold seemed refreshing after the night you’d had. You nodded.

He rubbed your back and nodded, “Alright. Get dressed in something warmer. I’ll grab us something to snack on.”

You nodded once again. You dressed quickly, then sat on the edge of Wilbur’s bed. Everything felt so out of your control. You barely even noticed his return to the room, until he placed his hand on your back, causing you to jump.

“Sorry, sorry, should’ve said something. You ready?”

You nodded, standing with arms crossed and following him outside. When you stepped outside, the frigid air immediately gave a sense of relief. You took in a deep breath, air coming back out in a soft haze due to the temperature. The walk was quiet. The world seemed to be aware of the tenseness in your throat and matched key, everything around the two of you entranced in an overt stillness.

The silence was cut short by the stopping of feet and a hitch of breath as you stared in front of you at the field where you and Wilbur shared your first kiss. Wilbur didn’t notice you’d stopped at first, content to keep walking along the path. He turned to you.

“Is everything alright?”

You turned your head to look back at him, nodding, before looking back once again. He followed your gaze to the field, making a noise of understanding.

“Do you want to go sit? I brought a blanket.”

He did. You hadn’t even noticed the thing slung along his opposite shoulder until now.

“Yeah,” you nodded after a moment. You cautiously tried to ignore the fact that it was the same blanket he’d brought out here that same night as well. Everything was already overwhelming enough, you couldn’t add more nostalgia to the mess.

Gently taking your hand, he led you over to the field, putting down the blanket. He sat down, motioning for you to do the same. You sat next to him and placed your head against him lightly. He wrapped an arm around you, holding you close to him. You two sat there quietly for a few minutes.

As the ball in your chest collapsed further in on itself, you realized that you’d have to talk about it. Communication was key, and if you didn’t get at least some of it out, it would only get worse and more overwhelming. Despite your self-sabotaging tendencies, you didn’t want to ruin this.

“I’m scared,” you spoke timidly.

He looked down at you, almost shocked to hear you opening up, “What about?”

“Us. I… I know you have this plan where we sit it out and see what we can do, but I’m just- I’m scared because I know I won’t have time. I know my workload, I know how little time I have already, I can’t sustain a relationship like that. I want more than anything to be able to be with you, but the more I think, the more I know how implausible it is.”

“Darling, I told you, already, I don’t mind waiting for you.”

“No, Will, you don’t understand. After college, there’s no telling where I’d have to go for work. I can’t just go and work for you because that alone gives me more anxiety about my own work performance and if it would cause stress between us.”

“I know, but when you’re working, you’ll have more time, so again, I don’t mind waiting.”

“Wilbur, I cannot ask that of you.”

“You’re not, I’m offeri-“

“You didn’t ask me to stay.”

He was silent.

You continued. “You didn’t ask me to stay, and I didn’t offer. I cannot possibly ask you to wait, and I can’t know that you’re waiting without feeling like I’m holding you back. Because everything in my future is so uncertain that I can’t have you waiting without some sort of guarantee that I’d be able to get there eventually, and I do not have that guarantee. You telling me that you’d be willing to wait only makes me feel worse because, in that time, you could meet someone really good for you, who could give you everything I can’t, and I don’t want to hold you back from finding the love that you deserve.”

He was quiet, trying to find the words to respond. “There’s something I never told you.”

You looked at him, curious despite the tears in your eyes.

“After you moved to London, I followed you there. I lived there for… about six months. And I did meet someone, but it didn’t work out. It was hell and it broke my heart, but I knew that it didn’t work out because I was trying to fill a void that only you could fit into. Regardless of whether or not you’ve known it, I’ve been waiting for you since the day we met. What’s a bit longer?”

There was a lot of information to process in his statement. But none of it relieved you or made you feel better.

“So, if I let things continue, you’d wait for me. Til the rest of your life if you had to?”

“Forever.”

That did not relieve you at all. If anything, it worsened the guilt in your chest. There was one way to stop him from waiting for you, and you knew you had to, but it broke your heart. But if breaking your heart meant protecting Wilbur’s in the future, you’d take it.

“Wilbur,” you couldn’t meet his eyes, “we have to end this. Whatever this is, between us, we have to end it. I’m sorry.”

Wilbur was quiet. You went to stand, but he grabbed your wrist.

“What if I say no?”

“What? Will-“

“I don’t care what you say. I know how guilty it makes you feel, I understand that. But I’m willing to put the effort in to make us work. Are you?”

You were. You absolutely were. But you and he both knew your heart wasn’t quite in it - too overtaken by the guilt in your chest.

“I am. But at the risk of sounding drastic, Wilbur, it will crush me. I love you so much that it covers me, and I’d kill to be able to feel that forever. But I know the second I step on that train, I’m going to be filled with so much dread and guilt that it might consume me. I might spend the rest of my life wondering if I ruined yours.”

“So, you want to act like none of this ever happened?”

“No, Wil-“

“No, listen to me now. We have our last two days together. Then, what? We stop talking again? Because that would actually, truthfully, ruin my life. More than waiting ever would. Even staying friends would ruin my life. Because, for fucks sake, I love you too. Far more than you know, and I have for far longer than you know. I’m not giving up on us because your future is uncertain. I moved to London for you in the past, and while I cannot get up and move as freely as I used to, I would make every sacrifice, every dedication, every ounce of my being I’d put into making sure you know just how much I love you and how willing I am to make us work. I just need you to be able to do the same. You said that you’re willing to put in the effort. All I ask is that you actually do it. Don’t shut down again like you did in the past because that would ruin me. Even if all you can give me is a day, I would take that day over never having you in my life again. So, if you can make the dedication, even if it is not as strong as mine, then I know we can do this.”

You took a shaky breath, wiping at your eyes. You wanted to say yes, you really did. Your heart was still holding you back. But you didn’t listen this time.

“Can I think about it? It’s not a no, I just- I need to think.”

He took a breath of relief, parroting his words from a few days ago, “That’s all I ask.”

He pulled you back into his arms, where you fit perfectly. His arms felt like home. No. More aptly, he felt like home.

You buried your face against his chest, sighing softly, “How come every time we have some deep, serious conversation, it's always in this field?”

He laughed, leaning his head against yours. “Dunno. Maybe we should get married here.”

You chuckled, “Already thinking of marriage?”

“Don’t you remember our agreement from middle school? If neither of us are married by 35, we’re getting married.”

You snorted, laughing a bit harder, “Maybe waiting isn’t that much of a problem then, seems we’ve already got a potential wedding date set.”

“Darling, if it was my choice, we would’ve gotten married the moment you kissed me here for the first time.”

You flushed, hiding your face against him quietly. “I love you,” was your only reply.

He smiled giddily, holding you tighter, “I love you too.”

The world felt lighter after the exchanges of “I love you”s. It somehow helped ease the ache in your chest. If nothing else made you feel better, at least that did, despite how it felt like a brand across your chest.

You two still lay there for a while longer, despite the world beginning to move again. At least now, it didn’t feel like you were the only one who was aware you were leaving.

The walk back to his place was quiet, but a far more comfortable silence. While neither of you was perfectly happy with how that conversation had gone, you at least talked. That alone meant more than anything. When you walked back in from the cold, he pulled you in his arms again, holding you tighter.

“I didn’t say it before. But, I hope you know that you’re not the only one scared of losing this. I’m terrified. Not because of what you said, but because I’m scared I might fuck up. I have a busy life too, not as busy as yours I’m sure, but I’m scared of the same things. I’m even more scared because, the whole streamer thing, it makes this harder. Most people are respectful, but it puts you in danger, and I am terrified of you ever being in danger, especially because of me. If you’re willing to hold onto me and make those sacrifices for me, then I am more than willing to make these sacrifices for you. But don’t think for a second that I’m not just as scared as you are.”

You nodded. The foyer felt still around you both. You truthfully hadn’t considered the streamer thing. Or the fact that he might be scared too. You’d been so caught up in your head that you didn’t consider whether or not Wilbur would be feeling the same way. Granted, you didn’t even think he’d understand originally, concerned that you’d sound like a madman to him.

You hummed after a moment, “I dunno. Seems kind of cool to have a secret double life thing going on.”

His face split into a grin, holding your jaw in one hand and kissing you deeply. You wrapped your arms around his neck, smiling into the kiss.

“I haven’t fully agreed yet. Just think you should know that I’m willing. To make those sacrifices, I mean.”

He nodded, “Of course, right. Are you willing to do anything else?” He asked, rubbing your back gently.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Soot.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“You cheeky motherfucker. At least get me upstairs first,” you joked.

He laughed, picking you up and walking upstairs. You laughed, arms wrapped around him. Yeah, so maybe he can make you feel better.

The rest of the day was spent primarily cuddling and watching movies. You were both a bit emotionally exhausted, so it was nice to just sit there and watch something neither of you cared too much about. You ended up falling asleep a few times, exhausted from the sleepless night before. He didn’t mind though, never minded. He made dinner while you napped, bringing it up for you as well so you could eat in bed. He made sure more than anything that you were comfortable, and truthfully, you couldn’t ask for anything better. You felt as loved as he sought to make you feel.

The next day was New Year’s Eve. You didn’t usually care much for New Year’s, but Wilbur woke up that morning determined to make it a special occasion. Between shared uncertainty and fear, he wanted today to feel like a break from reality. You woke up slowly, one of his arms wrapped around you while the other played with your hair. He was humming softly, staring at the ceiling when you looked up at him.

“Morning,” you spoke groggily.

“Good morning,” he replied, fingertips dancing along the skin of your back, “How’d you sleep?”

“Wonderfully,” you answered, though that was an understatement. It was the best you’d slept in years.

“I’m glad,” he leaned down and pecked your lips. “What’s your plan for today?”

You shrugged, “I need to pack, but other than that, just relaxing. Spending our last moments together.” It almost sounded like you’d be dying, and honestly, you might as well be.

He nodded, brushing your hair back. “Well, I’ll help you pack, but if you do me a favour.”

You chuckled, “Sure, what favour?”

“Be my New Year's kiss?”

You laughed and nodded, “Alright. Done.”

He grinned and went to kiss you again, but you stopped him, “You only said New Year’s. You’ll have to wait.”

Even knowing you were joking, he had the most shocked and kicked-puppy look on his face. He snaked his arms around your waist, whining, “Darling, please, you can’t do this to me.”

“Hm, why should I kiss you early? Give me a good reason.”

“Because I love and adore you so much.”

You hummed, “That grants you a kiss for sure.”

He leaned down, pulling you in for a kiss. He wasted no time in deepening the kiss, clearly trying to keep the kiss going for as long as possible.

When he finally pulled away, both of your lips were slightly swollen and cheeks dusted in a rose blush.

“Had to make it last,” he chuckled softly.

You smiled, but part of you felt torn apart when he said that. Everything you two did today, you had to make last. It was the last full day before your night train tomorrow. You knew that the morning tomorrow would feel more like a death march, anyway. As usual, though, he saw right through you.

“Hey. It’s fine. Let’s just focus on today, alright?”

You nodded, holding onto him. You sat up, and you went to let go, but he kept your hold on him.

“Will, I need to start packing,” you chuckled.

He hummed, “I know. Just a few more minutes, love.”

You could use a few more minutes yourself, you decided, ultimately swayed by the way Wilbur kept his arms wrapped tightly around you. You got comfortable in his arms again, nodding softly, “Alright. Just a few.”

He grinned and kissed the top of your head, rubbing your back. You didn’t want to get up, honestly. You were incredibly comfortable, yet you knew the faster you got the packing done, the sooner you could get back to relaxing in your little bubble.

“Will,” you started. “What do you want to do more than anything right now?”

He looked down at you, thinking for a quiet moment, “Truthfully? Give you a proper date while I can.”

“Oh, yeah? What would we do?”

“Well, that ruins the surprise now, doesn’t it?”

You laughed, “What, are you planning to do it today or something?”

He grinned, pecking your lips, “I might have a plan.”

“And when were you going to tell me?”

“My original plan was to put on a nature documentary and wait for you to fall asleep so I could set everything up.”

“Mm, that definitely would work. But now, I’ll know what you’re trying to do.”

“I can think of other ways to distract you.”

You lightly smacked him and laughed, “You have been so… raunchy lately, what is up with you?”

“Just excited. You love me!” He grinned wider than you’d honestly ever seen from him before.

“Yes, I do!” You laughed, holding onto him tighter.

“That’s amazing! That’s wonderful, I mean, really, that… there are not enough words to describe how wonderful that is and how happy it makes me. And I love you too! We love each other!”

“Yes! We do!”

“That’s amazing!”

“It is!” You two grinned at each other like you were kids again, sixteen and wild without a care in the world. He pulled you forward, kissing you hard. Your hands went to the back of his neck, your fingers reaching up to brush through his hair. He kept a tight hold on your waist, trying to keep you as physically close to him as possible. Your kiss devolved into making out, and you found your motivation to leave the bed being whittled away slowly. Wilbur’s arms around you and his lips on your lips put you in a haze every time, and you’d give nothing more than to stay in it. But he always did a good job of grounding you, in a sense.

He eventually pulled away to stare at you lovingly.

“If we could just lay here forever, we’d inevitably die from many possible reasons, but it would be entirely worth it to be able to spend my last moments with you.”

You flushed, burying your face against him, “You can’t just say things like that, you poet.”

“Just wait until I show you some of the songs I’ve written about you.”

You were stunned, “You’ve written songs about me?”

“Enough to fill an entire discography. I’ve been writing them since I could.”

“Why’d you never show me?”

“How could I show you a million love songs about you when I thought you never wanted to see me again and didn’t know otherwise until a few days ago?”

“Touché.” You chuckled softly, pecking his lips gently.

He smiled, “We should probably go pack. We’ll have more time for better things the sooner we finish.”

You groaned, nodding, “I know.” You paused for a moment, trying to cherish the saccharine serenity for one last moment, before sitting up. He sat up with you, moving his arm from your shoulders to reach out and help you up, which you gladly accepted. Once you were both up, he pulled you into his arms, kissing you lovingly once again. You returned it, pulling away to grin at him. He looked overjoyed. For the first time in two weeks, it genuinely felt like you weren’t worried about… everything. Even if you weren’t happy with the way things went, at least for today, you were plainly happy.

You grabbed one of his jumpers to pull on, and he watched you for a moment.

“What is it?” You asked, chuckling lightly.

He flushed, but he didn’t look away. Instead, he grinned wider, “Just… you’re beautiful, especially in my clothes. You should take that one, actually.”

Your cheeks reddened to match his, “Really? You wear this one a lot though,” it was true. You’d grabbed one of his Los Campesinos! Jumpers, the maroon one.

He nodded, “Yeah, it looks far better on you.” He seemed to pause, processing your sentence in full now, “Wait, how did you know I wear it often?”

The blush on your face increased tenfold. “I- I just,” you immediately stuttered, unwilling to tell him just how many VODs and clips of him you’d seen, “it’s your favorite band. I-I figured you wear it often,” you lied, quite obviously.

He saw right through you, but he moved on, for your own embarrassment's sake, but he kept a grin like he knew a secret the whole time he continued, “Well, it is one of my favourites. But that’s exactly why I want you to keep it. Means more that way.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am sure. One condition, though.”

“Which is?”

“You text me every time you wear it.”

You looked up at him, and because of your years of learning how to read Wilbur Soot, you could see the sadness that shone in his eyes. He never gave much indication that he felt upset, most likely for your sake, but it was getting harder for him to hide it, it seemed. In a passing thought, it reminded you of grief.

You nodded, “I accept those terms,” and you both moved on. You finished getting dressed, and the two of you started the slow march to your place. You walked slower than usual, as if it would keep the time from passing. You wanted to ask him questions, to talk to him more, to listen to him, but your mouth couldn’t quite form the words.

He kept a warm grip on your hand, but he didn’t speak either.

Thankfully, since it was earlier in the day, it was just your parents at home. You opened the door, and Wilbur dropped your hand for a moment to close the door behind you both. You ushered Wilbur to your room while you went into the living room to speak to your parents.

“So, my train is at 9 P.M. tomorrow. Will’s gonna help me pack, and I think he was planning on taking me tomorrow night, so you lot won’t have to drive at night.” “Were you going to allow us to see you before you leave?”

“Well, once I finish packing, you can say bye to me then. Will has something planned for us for New Year’s tonight, and I imagine we’ll be preoccupied before the train cleaning up since his family is returning soon. So, yes, today will be the last day you see me for this trip.”

“So, what? You show up here, reconnect with your friend, and what? We just never get to see our child again?”

You sighed, “Mum, seriously, can we not have this conversation?”

“No, we should have this conversation. Ever since you’ve come home, you-”

“Dad, can you please stop her?”

Your father didn’t so much as look at you or your mother, staying out of this as he did everything.

Your mother continued her rant about your behavior, and you groaned into your hands, “I can’t fucking stand this, mum! Every fucking time I’m home, you find some niche reason to think I am the worst. Two weeks ago you were complaining that I hadn’t found anyone, and now what, you’re mad that I may have found someone?” You were angry now, but tearfully angry, the type of angry where your tears felt like lava burning red roads into cheeks. “You have spent my entire life picking apart everything I’ve done, while you sit there and act like you’re not a walking contradiction who always acts far worse than I ever have! I can’t stand constantly hearing you tell me I’m the worst!”

You went to continue, but a hand on your shoulder stopped you. You turned, and Wilbur was standing there behind you looking nothing but supportive. He pulled you into his side, starting to walk you back to your room. Your mother went to speak again, some snarky comment, no doubt, but Wilbur stopped her immediately.

“Respectfully, there is not a single thing you could say right now that would be beneficial. Now, if you’ll excuse us,” and he ushered you fully back into your room.

You were immediately in his arms, face buried against his chest as you sobbed. He rubbed your back, kissing the top of your head. He leaned his head down to whisper in your ear.

“Take a deep breath for me, love. You know I won’t let anything happen to you,” He started taking deep breaths, taking one of your hands and placing it on his chest, so you could feel the pattern of his breathing. You followed his breathing, slowly getting in control of yourself once again. You pulled away, wiping at your eyes, and he smiled down at you.

“You’re okay,” he nodded, and you nodded back, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Did you hear it?”

It took him a moment to respond, but eventually, he nodded.

You shook your head, “Nothing to talk about then. I just can’t deal with this anymore.” He brushed your hair back gently, a soft smile covering his face, “Well, let’s get packing then. The sooner we get that done, the faster we can get out of here and go watch movies in bed.”

You let out a shaky laugh, nodding and grinning, “Okay, yeah,” you pulled away, grabbing your suitcase. From there on, the two of you made careful work of packing up all your things. You hadn’t brought much in the first place, just enough to sustain you over the two-week trip. Wilbur was insistent on packing the items in your bag for you while you grabbed and folded items, and it worked well. You still had to account for the small pile of clothes that slowly was growing in his room, but aside from that, packing truthfully didn’t take long. Or maybe it just didn’t seem as long because Wilbur was with you the entire time.

The final item was cautiously packed away, and we moved to sit on your childhood bed, staring at a carved out version of your childhood room, and knowing that, regardless of whether or not you and he stayed together, you would never be those kids again. Something would always be different, now. He wrapped an arm around your waist, loosely holding you against his chest. It wouldn’t necessarily be bad, that things were different. He took your hand gently. Things would just be different, for better or for worse. He squeezed your hand three times. You squeezed his hand three times back.

“You know I’ll stick with you, no matter what. I don’t care how long the road is, I’ll be there,” he whispered against your ear, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

You nodded softly, “I know.”

“We’re not becoming strangers again. I won’t let it happen.”

You nodded again, leaning your head further into his chest, “I will try to silence every self-sabotaging voice and urge,” you chuckled softly, “just for you.”

“That’s major. Imagine telling school you that you just said that,” he laughed lightheartedly.

“Yeah, yeah. School me wouldn’t even want to admit to having self-sabotaging tendencies. At least now I’m far more self-aware.”

He nodded, “True, but neither of us were very self-aware back then,” he took a deep breath, sighing out slowly, “Genuinely, though, it does mean a lot. Just knowing that you’ll be trying.”

You nodded, pressing a kiss to his shoulder gently, “I want things to work. I do love you, after all. Even with my uncertainties, I am at least not uncertain about the love I feel for you.”

“I love you so much, darling. I hope you are serious about the amount of love you share for me, because trust me, I am going to be such a nuisance. The moment you get on that train, I won’t leave you alone. You may have to get a second phone because I’ll be constantly vying for your attention,” he shook with laughter, pulling you in.

“Oh, I hope for nothing more. However, I may just need to block you while I’m studying. I think asking you to stop while I study may be far too cruel.”

“If you block me, you won’t get to see all the texts once you’re done.”

“And what would I need to see so badly in those texts?”

“How proud I am of you.”

You chuckled, “What? Why that?”

“Because you’d be studying. I want you to feel encouraged because studying is hard, so you deserve the praise.”

“Thank you, darling,” you both shared a fond look, feeling some sense, somewhere, that you were on the same page for the future.

You were able to leave the house with no issues. Wilbur took your bag outside while you managed a stiff goodbye to your parents. You didn’t plan on coming back next holiday. With a quick hug and a few words that choked you just to say, you escaped out into the fresh air where Wilbur was waiting for you. He gave you a grin that warmed you despite the cold around you both, a small kindling fire placed in your chest every time he gave you that look so full of understanding. You walked right forward into him, colder hands touching cold cheeks but kissing him to spread the warmth from your chest. He chuckled into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist but holding you loosely. He knew you weren’t going anywhere right now, he didn’t need to hold you tight. He wasn’t afraid. You were aware of nothing else but him and his lips. Eventually, you both had to let the metaphorical smoke out of your lungs.

“You always seemed happier when you’d leave.” He said it simply as if it didn’t feel like a world-shattering admission. You knew he’d only meant leaving your parents, but in some way, it felt like understanding, understanding why you had to leave town, leave him behind.

And you replied simply, as if, again, you hadn’t felt incredibly taken in his words,

“I guess so.”

You walked back to Wilbur’s slowly, despite the snow starting to trickle around you faster and faster. You exchanged jokes as you walked, ranging from dad jokes to the dirtiest jokes you could imagine. It was peaceful. He opened the door for you, helping bring your things to his room.

“You know what we should do?” He hummed, kissing your cheeks all over.

You laughed, arms wrapped around him, “What?”

“I think we should play more Minecraft.”

You burst out laughing, “You could’ve suggested anything, but of course, Minecraft.” “What’s wrong with that?”

“No, nothing, I’m not complaining. Just think it’s funny. Most guys would’ve suggested sex or something lewd, but you went straight to gaming, and I… appreciate that more, I guess.”

“Well, darling, you should know by now I’m not like most guys. I am a gamer, it’s worse,” you both laughed at that, and you grabbed his hands, nodding.

“Alright, then. Let’s play.”

You both got set up to play together, hopping on the server and playing. You guys goofed around mostly, but after about twenty minutes, Tommy ended up joining the server.

Upon joining, he spammed in chat “VC” over and over again.

“Do you mind joining the VC?” Wilbur asked, “My mic isn’t working right now.”

You nodded, a bit nervous, but joining the voice channel in the Discord server Wilbur had added you to.

“Tommy?”

All you got was a yell as a response before Tommy started divulging some explanation of why he needed you to come to his base with “as much andesite you could find”.

You looked up at Wilbur, clearly confused. He shrugged, mouthing to you ‘Just go with it.’

“Alright, Tommy, I’ll help, but it’ll probably take a while to get the andesite.”

“That’s fine! I’ll help get it! I just need it incredibly badly!”

You chuckled softly. Tommy stayed on VC, chatting with you and Wilbur a bit while you went to help Tommy collect materials. After a few minutes, Wilbur stood, walking over to you.

He kissed your head, “I’m going to step downstairs for a moment, alright?”

You nodded, “Okay, yeah.” “Do not worry, Wilbur! I will keep them much company!” Tommy’s voice came through grainy on your laptop.

“Maybe I should stay,” Wilbur joked, which led to Tommy spluttering loudly in annoyance.

Eventually, Wilbur did walk out of the room, leaving you and Tommy alone. After a few minutes of joking around, you and Tommy both mining in-game, he spoke up, sounding a bit more serious this time.

“Wilbur’s my brother, you know. Did he tell you that?” You chuckled, “He didn’t mention it. Can’t say I remember you when he and I were in school together, but I’d take your word for it.”

“Good. You should always take my word for things. I am a great person to believe.”

You chuckled softly, “I will try to, as long as you tell the truth.”

“I make my own truth, so I am always telling the truth.” He chuckled himself. He spoke again after a brief pause, more serious this time, “Seriously, though. I care about Wilbur a lot, and I know how much he cares about you. He’s told me a bit about you, so I trust that you do love him like you say just… please, don’t give me a reason to break that trust, alright? You seem good to him. I want you to be good for him.”

You were quiet after his admission for a few moments. You wanted that too. You wanted to be good for Wilbur, and you wanted Tommy to be able to trust you. You wanted all the things that came with love, the struggles, the fights, the working through it all, everything. “I won’t,” you spoke softly, “I won’t give you a reason to break that trust. I don’t know exactly what he’s told you, but he really matters to me. I don’t want to lose him.”

“Good. ‘Cause I know he feels the same,” Tommy said, “So, when are you going to come to Brighton?”

“Truthfully, I’m not sure. I have my spring classes starting in a few days, and I won’t have a real break up until the summer. I may try to come around then, but it depends on if I have an internship or some classes, but-” you paused, letting out a breath, “Yeah, just… not sure, yet. Hopefully, I’ll have a free weekend, assuming I’m not working or studying.”

Tommy was silent for a moment, but when he spoke, his words came out quickly, “God! I would hate being that busy! How can you stand it? It must get frustrating, I’m busy a lot as well, but not that kind of busy, so it’s not like that I guess, but my god! I just- that sounds like so much! Do you ever-”

“Jesus, Tommy, you’re going to make them pass out, slow down, man,” Wilbur came back in, walking over to you. He placed his hands on your shoulders, kissing the top of your head.

“Sorry, sorry, just, wow! You sound so busy, must’ve been a nice break being back there.” “It was really nice, yeah,” you smiled, looking up at Wilbur.

“Right, well, Tommy, we’ve actually got to go.”

“We do?”

“Yep! Talk to you later, Tommy, thanks for the help.”

“No problem, Wilbur! Have a good night, you two!”

You spluttered a bit, feeling like the past two minutes took place in 20 seconds, feeling incredibly displaced.

Wilbur hung up the call on your laptop, logging you out of the game as well.

“Will, what’s going on?”

“Just, trust me, will you? I want to show you something.” He took your hand, pulling you up.

You followed him downstairs. You knew he had his New Year’s surprise, but you didn’t suspect it to be this early (granted it was around 5 P.M. at this point), hence why you were so taken aback. However, once he’d gotten you downstairs, you knew that’s exactly what it was.

“Did you enlist Tommy to distract me because you knew I’d be suspicious of you?” “Yep!” He admitted proudly.

The place looked beautiful. He’d hung string lights up all over the place, each light twinkling in the dark of the room (he’d kept all the big lights off - it was only the string lights and the lamp in the corner. He knew how you hated overhead lights). He put gold stars across the walls, and even scattered a few on the table as well. The best part, however, was the kitchen table. It’d been covered with a midnight blue tablecloth. There were two plates set out, and you couldn’t quite see what was on them from where you stood. What you could see however was the bottle of champagne on ice in the center of the table, along with the candles on either side.

“Will, this is incredible. How did you do all of this so fast?”

“I had everything ready, it was just a matter of putting it up. As for the food, what meal is more fitting than the first thing you taught me how to make?” With a flourish, Wilbur gestured to the dishes on the table, “Cheap ramen.”

You laughed, nodding, “That explains a lot. Did you make it fancy like I taught you, too?”

“Of course. I remember exactly how you made it.”

“Even the miso paste?” “Especially the miso paste. I always keep some in the house since you taught me.”

“Really?”

“Of course. It’s become a big comfort meal for me.”

You smiled up at him, “Well, I’m glad. It seems a bit early for a New Year's celebration, though.”

“Yes, but we have to eat first. Plus, I’ve decided since you don’t really love New Year's, we’re toasting something else first tonight.”

“Oh, yeah? What?” “Us. Being together again.”

“Cliche, but I’ll allow it,” you joked, and he pulled you over to the kitchen table.

“You love it, you’ve just always hated admitting how much you like cliches.”

“That is not true.” “Oh yeah? How many times did you watch 10 Things I Hate About You when you were sad in school?”

“Hey, Americans know how to revisit Shakespeare in the modern audience well, okay?”

“I know, and you adore the cliches in that movie, and it is so full of them.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile never left your face. You held his hand, gently rubbing your thumb over his knuckles.

“Thank you,” you murmured, “I just about think this is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

“For now it is. I’ll make sure something tops it.” He smiled, pulling out your chair for you. That combined with the warm look on his face sent a feeling akin to the flush of cheap whine across your chest. You smiled at him, reaching out to take his hand. You couldn’t speak — couldn’t find the words to reflect the love you felt for him. He took your hand, squeezing it gently. He spoke for you.

“For as shitty as your parents are, I’m glad you still decided to come this winter.”

You chuckled softly, and he continued. “I’m serious. I almost didn’t come this winter either. At the last minute, I said, why not, maybe it’ll be nice. And while I don’t believe much in fate, or the stars aligning, I think that something special happened to make you and I both, for whatever reason, think maybe something would be different. Because when you think about it, we both came here expecting something different, but it’s never been more similar. My parents are gone, yours are being shitheads, and we’re still confiding in each other. So I don’t know what it was, but I wish I did so I knew just exactly what force I had to thank for bringing us together again.

“We’ve spent so much time together here talking about what didn’t happen, you know. The fight, the four years we spent not talking, the missed time. But it would’ve continued, if neither of us made the choice to come here, or if neither of us decided to go to the pub that night. So while I don’t believe in fate, or the universe making our choices for us, every choice we made for the past four years would’ve always led us right back to each other.”

You don’t know at what point in his admission you started crying. He gave you a look of concern, and he was about to ask if you were alright. Before he could, you stood, and he did the same, meeting you in a tight embrace. You buried your face into his shoulder, and your grip was tight enough to turn your knuckles white. You sniffled quietly, voice quivering as you spoke.

“I don’t know what to say,” you admitted, laughing into his shoulder. “Two weeks ago, I never would’ve thought we’d see each other again. When I’d agreed to come here, I thought there might be a chance, but I didn’t let myself think about it, I- I couldn’t tell if the idea made me nervous or excited. But now, it feels like I can’t get rid of you,” I chuckled, “And I wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s like a little thread keeping us together.”

He smiled, kissing the top of your hair. “Good, because you truly will never get rid of me after this.” He pulled away to wipe the tears from your eyes.

You took a soft, shaky breath as you smiled up at him, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You both sat back down after that, eating quickly. The meal felt like home. As you and Wilbur finished eating, he stood once more to open the champagne. He popped the cork, thankfully not causing too much of a mess as he quickly poured the champagne into our two flute glasses. He picked his glass up, holding it up in a toast. You grabbed yours and did the same, smiling up at him as he spoke.

“To my best friend, my fire, and my lover. Here’s to reuniting and being allowed to find a home in each other.”

You grinned, lightly tapping your flute against his before taking a sip. He took a sip of his own drink, taking your hand and pulling you up. He turned on some music, and he pulled you into another embrace. He started swaying, and you joined him, neither one of you speaking as you held each other close. Even if the world ended at this moment, the room caught fire or even flooded, neither of you would leave this embrace. It essentially was the end of one world, you thought to yourself sardonically. You pushed those thoughts away, determined to have a good night with him. He pulled away to give you a warm smile, gently cupping your cheek,

“Get out of your head,” he chuckled softly, and you flushed.

“How can you always tell?”

“I’m not sure how to explain it exactly, but I know you. I know when you get that distant look in your eyes that you’re stressed out about something and trying to hide it. Or that when your breathing quickens just a bit it's because you thought of something you didn’t like. I told you, I’m memorizing you, and each tiny piece is important.”

You leaned your head against him gently. “You don’t know how nice that is,” You whispered. No one else ever notices

He wrapped his arms around you once more before pulling you over to the couch. You thought he was going to put on a movie or something, but instead, he just turned to you.

“Just, stay here a moment, alright?”

You nodded, and he returned within a moment, holding his guitar. He sat back down next to you, starting to strum a few chords. He didn’t say anything as the chords turned into a soft pattern. He started playing a song quietly, something soft and sweet, but he sang no words.

“I don’t know the words, yet,” he said softly, “But I know this is another one for you.”

You smiled up at him, watching him play. He looked gorgeous while he played, so clearly in his element. It was a funny contrast to two weeks ago. Two weeks ago you didn’t know where you and him stood as friends, and now, you were closer than before. It almost made you anxious to contrast those two points. Fast-moving things often crashed.

“It sounds beautiful.” He nodded before speaking again, “I didn’t want you to go back without hearing it first, even though it’s not done.”

“Why?” You asked quietly.

He smiled. “Giving you something to wait for. To hold onto. Can’t ignore me if you know you’re waiting for something.”

“You think I’d ignore you?”

“Not on purpose. I think I understand how important your future is, though, and how wrapped up you get in it. So I think you’ve been ignoring the world because you’ve forgotten it exists. But it’s harder to forget when you know you’re waiting on something out there.”

You gave a sad smile, looking away. “I guess you’re right. This’ll help though, definitely.”

He smiled, placing his guitar down. “I’m glad. Plus, I’ve still got a bunch of other songs about you that I can show you. But those can wait for the future, too.”

You took a sip of your champagne, just about downing the thing before setting your glass down.

You and Wilbur sat and talked for a long time, getting drunker as you did. Meaningless stories, sharing experiences you’d wished he’d been there for, and vice versa.

“I remember there was this guy in my English Lit class, and my god, Will, you would’ve hated him. I remember coming to class every day and thinking ‘if only Wilbur were here. He’d at least understand’ because every person in class acted like he was this genius! In reality, he was pulling his ‘ideas’ straight from other people, and no one said anything because his father paid for the class textbooks. It was infuriating!”

“God, was he a tory? He sounds like one.”

“Yes! He was a huge tory! I remember we read The Scarlet Letter and he went on this long rant about how he’d never be satisfied with a woman like Hester, completely missed the point of the book, and the majority of the class went ‘That’s a fantastic observation’ like, motherfuckers, no it is not! He’s just a dick!”

Wilbur laughed, leaning his head into the crux of his elbow. “God, I can just imagine. He sounds like a fucking dickhead, genuinely.”

“He was. Even worse, he’s dating my flatmate, so I can barely escape the asshole. I walk into the living room, and he’ll just be there,” You groaned, and Wilbur chuckled.

“You haven’t spoken much about your flatmates.”

You shrugged softly, “I’m not particularly close with any of them. We all grouped together for a project once, and we got close enough to trust that none of us would steal from or kill the other. I needed a better place to live because the school facilities just weren’t working for me anymore. They’re nice enough, but I don’t know if they actually like me or just like my convenience.”

“Your convenience?”

You nodded softly, “Yeah. I’m quiet, I don’t take up much space, and I keep to myself for the most part. I’m convenient.” He scoffed, “That is not you.” “What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on. Convenient? You’re a person, not a placeholder. You’ve always loved being loud and being more of an extrovert than you’d grant yourself.”

“Maybe you just bring out that side of me. Back there, I’m different.”

He hummed, his fingertips running along your back, “Guess I’ll have to change that once I visit.”

You chuckled, your increasing drunkenness making a red flush come up to your cheeks. “Wilbur, I’d rather not get kicked out of my place.”

“You deserve to feel like a person.” “I do!” “But not you. You’re being what they want you to be,” He sighed, “But don’t worry when you move to Brighton, I’ll make sure you always feel like you.” “Oh?” You hummed, “When I move to Brighton?”

He chuckled, clearly just as affected by the champagne as you had been. “Let me fantasize a bit, alright?”

You grinned, leaning your head against his shoulder, “Tell me about it. Your fantasy.”

He smiled, wrapping an arm around you. “Alright. In my fantasy, you’ve moved to Brighton. We have plans to live together, but we haven’t moved in together yet because we’re still trying to find a good place with three rooms. One room for us, an office, and a guest room or music room, depending on if we have guests or not. You’re working with my band to edit some of our lyrics and just things that we write. We go to the beach at night and have a good time, swimming or just goofing around. When I go on tour, you join me. Eventually, we move in together, and we take a year just traveling the world, going everywhere we can think, and then maybe choosing one of those places to settle down in. Then, we just live happily together, not worried about trivial things. Then, every decision, we make together from then on, as a pair.”

You smiled, hiding your face against his shoulder. It sounded lovely, though likely unviable, as much as you wished the opposite. “That sounds nice.”

He nodded softly, not saying more. He just held you close.

Neither of you spoke for a long while. His phone chimed after a while, and he stood, grabbing your hands and pulling you up.

“It’s almost midnight.” He smiled, and he walked you both outside. You were immediately met with the freezing cold, and he wrapped his arms around you to try and combat the frigid air. You leaned into his embrace, looking up at the stars.

He kissed your cheek gently, staring up with you, “Penny for your thoughts?”

You smiled softly, “I feel small. In the last two weeks, every tiny problem has felt overwhelming. But now, compared to everything, it feels insignificant. I feel insignificant. And not in a bad way, just more in a way that… I don’t know, maybe I should try and just live a little more.”

He hummed softly, “It is kind of a nice feeling. There’s an entire world around us that doesn’t care about a single thing we say or do. The way I see it, we should just do everything that makes us happy. None of it might matter, but at least we’ll be happy. That makes it matter.”

You nodded, “Yeah. That’s true. I suppose we have to find reasons to make this shit matter. In the philosophical sense, at least, life is meaningless until we choose what has meaning.”

“So what gives it meaning for you?”

You thought for a long moment. “A few things. Getting my degree. Finally feeling free,” you sighed. “Truthfully, a lot of them lead back to you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. I look forward to my future now, more than I ever have, because I know I’ll have my best friend with me. I look forward to moving on the off chance that we’ll be close to each other. Things that used to stress me out, you find a way to calm them. Like finding a job. Even if I don’t love the idea now of potentially working for you, maybe I will later on, and just knowing that I’d have a potential choice brings me hope. It’s choice, I think, that guides a lot of my meanings back to you. Before you walked back into my life, I didn’t feel like I had a choice for any of my future decisions. I was still pleased with the idea of working in English and such, but I just figured that I’d be forced to take the first job I found, relocate where they told me to, and spend the rest of my life living under the guise of another. But you’ve brought the idea of choice back to me. And that puts so much more meaning into life, and especially the future, even if I am still scared to death of it.”

As if on queue, the sky lit up with fireworks, shining over the overgrown backyard, casting your own private spotlight.

“Happy New Year’s, darling,” he whispered, turning to face you. He placed a hand on your cheek, gently pulling you in for a long, loving kiss that made your body match the fireworks in the sky. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and when you finally pulled away, you pressed your forehead against his gently. Your breath and his mixed in frosted puffs, but you felt warm despite the cold around you. Your nose and ears were tinged pink, your fingertips even paler at their home on Wilbur’s cheeks. You both pulled away to stare at the fireworks as they cascaded over the midnight stars.

Once the fireworks had ended, leaving a haze of smoke over the stars, Wilbur took your hand. He pulled you in for another kiss, shorter this time. You smiled into the kiss, knowing even as the cold set into your bones, that you’d be content to stay in this moment forever. He chuckled when he pulled away from the kiss, taking your hand and tugging you inside.

“C’mon. Let’s head up.”

You followed him inside, and while you went to go clean up, he kept your hand in his, not letting you move into the kitchen.

“It’s tomorrow’s problem. Seriously. Although, there is one more thing we should do.” You rolled your eyes at him with a fond smile, “What is that?”

“Give me a second, don’t move!” He ran out of the room, returning quickly with a Polaroid.

You chuckled softly when you saw the polaroid, turning towards him. He came to stand next to you again, pulling you into his side. He held the camera up, and you smiled up into the viewfinder. He waited for a moment, and right when you thought he was going to take the photo, he leaned over and kissed your cheek, snapping the photo the moment it happened. Your smile lit up when he kissed you, and you turned to him.

“What was that for?” You chuckled softly.

He smiled, grabbing the photo as it came out of the Polaroid. “Wanted to make sure it was the real you smiling.”

You flushed, looking down out of shyness for a moment. He shook the photo for a moment before setting it down to give it time to develop. He put his camera back away, came back, and picked up the photo. He smiled fondly at it, before turning the photo to you.

“I think it’s the best photo I’ve ever seen.” When he showed you the photo, it was like a gear turned. You finally saw what he meant when he spoke about your smile because you looked genuinely happy, a foreign thing for you to see.

“I agree,” you spoke softly, smiling up at him. “Can I take a photo of it?”

He nodded, and you took out your phone to take a photo of the Polaroid. “I’d let you keep it, but honestly, I’m feeling a bit selfish towards it. Plus, you get my jumpers, I get this. Even exchange.”

You laughed softly, giving him a quick kiss, grinning, and speaking through it, “I would say so.”

He chuckled, happily kissing you back and wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulled away, resting his hand against the small of your back as you both walked back upstairs. You both changed into pajamas, and you started packing up the rest of your clothes. You started pulling out your clothes for the next day when Wilbur came and wrapped his arms around your back.

“Will, what are you up to?” You chuckled softly.

He smiled, kissing the top of your head, “Nothing. Just reminding you how comfortable my arms are, and how nice it would be to leave this for tomorrow and head to bed.”

You smiled fondly, leaning back in his arms, “You feeling cuddly or something?”

He pulled you in tighter, chuckling, “Maybe. Now, c’mon. It’s late, and I know you’re tired.”

With a sigh, you relinquished. “Okay. We’ll have the time tomorrow anyway.”

He pulled away, but only so he could turn you around and pull you into bed with him. You moved into his arms, relaxing against him quietly. He smiled, leaning down to kiss you languidly. The kiss elevated to multiple, going into a full-on makeout, but it wasn’t fiery and fast, it was calm and loving. Each second made you yearn more and more for some timeline where you weren’t leaving tomorrow.

You pulled away after some time, and his hand met your cheek, thumb slowly rubbing over your skin in a soothing manner. You smiled in return, gently playing with his hair. He made a pleased noise when you did so, and you leaned forward to peck his lips gently.

“Goodnight, Wilbur.”

“Goodnight, darling.”

taglist: @shubblelive / @superioritycomplexes / @your-shifting-gurl (send an ask/dm me if you want to be added)

#wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot #mcyt x reader #dsmp x reader #mar writes #wilbur x reader #tis the damn season au #mcyt x you #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot fanfiction #mcytumblr #mcyt wilbur

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tiaramania · 11 months

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Crown Prince Hussein of Jordan & Rajwa Al Saif's Upcoming Wedding

Only one week day left until the wedding of Crown Prince Hussein of Jordan and Rajwa bint Khaled Al Saif! It will be held on June 1st at 4:00pm at Zahran Palace followed by a reception at Al Husseiniya Palace. The future Crown Princess Rajwa's engagement ring features a large pear shaped diamond but for her henna party she wore a different ring with tilted marquis cut diamonds.

If Rajwa chooses a tiara that already belongs to the JRF, my choice is Queen Rania's Arabic Scroll Tiara. She has already worn several pairs of earrings loaned by her future mother-in-law so wearing one of her tiaras is a strong possibility.

However, my prediction is for her getting a brand new tiara especially after Princess Iman debuted a new tiara at her wedding earlier this year. The tiara might be a gift from either from the JRF or from her own family, who are apparently quite wealthy, but I very much doubt that they will release any information about the tiara like they will for the gown.

Queen Rania hosted the henna party on May 22nd at Raghadan Palace (here's a longer video and the highlight video is below) and King Abdullah will host the sahra party on May 31st at the Bani Hashem Matharib. There's also a concert on the 29th and practices are underway for the parades and drone shows so I expect this to be a pretty big celebration.

youtube

The dress code for the guests will be long dresses but no tiaras. The Jordanian royals aren't very big on tiaras so I wasn't expecting the dress code to include them. Update: Saad Salman is now reporting that the guests will also be wearing tiaras most likely at the banquet following the wedding.

The foreign royals that have confirmed attendance so far are...

Belgium - King Philippe & Crown Princess Elisabeth

Bhutan - Queen Jetsun Pema & Princess Eeuphelma

Brunei - Sultan Hassanal Bolkiah & Prince Mateen

Denmark - Crown Prince Frederik & Crown Princess Mary

Japan - Princess Takamado & Princess Tsuguko

Kuwait - Sheikh Ahmad Al Abdullah Al Sabah

Liechtenstein - Hereditary Prince Alois & Hereditary Princess Sophie

Luxembourg - Prince Sebastien

Malaysia - King Abdullah & Queen Azizah

Netherlands - King Willem Alexander, Queen Maxima, & Crown Princess Catharina Amalia

Norway - Crown Prince Haakon

Oman - Crown Prince Theyazin bin Haitham

Qatar - Sheikha Moza bint Nasser & Sheikh Khalifa bin Hamad

Romania - Princess Margareta & Prince Radu

Saudi Arabia - Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman (he's the official representation but I expect more Saudi royals because Rajwa is related to a lot of them through her mother)

Spain - King Juan Carlos & Queen Sofia

Sweden - Crown Princess Victoria & Prince Daniel

United Kingdom - Prince of Wales, Princess of Wales, & Princess Beatrice of York

#Tiara Talk #Crown Princess Rajwa #Jordan #Jordanian Royal Family #Rajwa Al Saif #tiara #Queen Rania #Princess Iman #royalty #royal #diadem #bridal tiara #royaltyedit

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homomenhommes · 1 month

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THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … March 21

1804 – The Code Napoléon is introduced in France, Belgium, Luxembourg, and Monaco, maintaining the "hands-off" attitude of the government toward private, consensual sexual relations.

1901 – Gavin Arthur (d.1972) an astrologer and occultist, was born Chester Alan Arthur III, the grandson and namesake of the 21st President of the United States. He grew up in wealth, but did not pursue a career in the professions, choosing instead to join the Merchant Marines. He later panned for gold and sold newspapers.

In the 1930s he travelled widely and came to know many of the counterculture elite of his day. Among his acquaintances were pioneer sexologists Edward Carpenter, Havelock Ellis and Alfred Kinsey. He was unashamedly gay and a forerunner of gay activism. He helped Kinsey with his groundbreaking research into male sexuality.

In the 1950s he settled in San Francisco and devoted his time to astrology. He began to move in the alternative spirituality and sexuality community that first became known for its identification with beat Zen, and he became well-known as an astrological counsellor. He began to develop a perspective on astrology that, contrary to the mainstream of astrological writing, took account of homosexual and bisexual gender preferences. His ruminations culminated in 1966 with his major writing, The Circle of Sex.

Drawing on his reading of gay writers, Arthur concluded that sexuality needs to be separated from the single need to procreate.

1903 – Vadim Kozin (d.1994) was a Russian tenor, and an openly homosexual man until 1934 when male homosexuality became a crime in USSR.

Vadim Alekseyevich Kozin was born the son of a merchant in Saint Petersburg. His mother was a gypsy and often sang in the local gypsy choir. Their house was frequently full of musicians, exposing Vadim to tradition from an early age.

He began to sing professionally in the 1920s, and gained success almost immediately. In the 1930s he moved to Moscow and began playing with the accompanist David Ashkenazi.

During World War II he served in the entertainment brigade and sang for Soviet troops.

In 1944, shortly before the birthday of Josef Stalin, the police chief Lavrenty Beria called him up and asked why his songs didn't involve Stalin. Kozin famously replied that songs about Stalin were not suited for tenor voices. In late 1944, Kozin was sentenced to five years in jail as part of the repression campaign against prominent Soviet performers and was sent to the Magadan labour camps because of his alleged homosexuality.

He was initially released in 1950 and was able to return to his singing career. Though released once again several years later, he was never officially rehabilitated and remained in exile in Magadan until his death. Speaking to journalists in 1982, he explained how he had been forced to tour the Kolyma camps: "The Politburo formed brigades which would, under surveillance, go on tours of the concentration camps and perform for the prisoners and the guards, including those of the highest rank."

In 1993, being interviewed by Theo Uittenbogaard in the TV documentary Gold – Lost in Siberia, he recalled how he was released from exile temporarily and flown into Yalta for a few hours, because Winston Churchill, unaware of Kozin's forced exile, had asked Stalin for the famous singer Vadim Kozin to perform, during a break in the Yalta Conference, held February 4–11, 1945.

His prison sentence deeply traumatized Kozin, leading to the cessation of his singing career. He even began burning his own records, to the point where his friends were forced to hide their own copies from him in order to preserve them. The Soviet government never officially rehabilitated him and his 90th birthday was celebrated in private among friends in Magadan. He died at the age of 91 in 1994.

1961 – Greg Herren is an American writer and editor, who publishes work in a variety of genres, including mystery novels, young adult literature and erotica. He publishes work both as Greg Herren and under the pseudonym Todd Gregory.

New Orleans-based writer and journalist, Greg Herren has written extensively about the homosexual lifestyle, both in fiction and nonfiction. His work has appeared in a variety of periodicals and anthologies, and his fiction includes an array of horror stories and mysteries, all featuring homosexual characters.

His novel Murder in the Rue Chartres won a Lambda Literary Award in the Gay Mystery category at the 2008 Lambda Literary Awards, and his anthology Love, Bourbon Street: Reflections of New Orleans, co-edited with Paul J. Willis, won in the anthologies category at the 2007 Lambda Literary Awards.

He was also nominated in the mystery category in 2003 for Murder in the Rue Dauphine, in 2004 for Bourbon Street Blues, in 2005 for Jackson Square Jazz, in 2007 for Mardi Gras Mambo, in 2010 for Murder in the Garden District and in 2011 for Vieux Carré Voodoo, in the anthologies category in 2005 for Shadows of the Night: Queer Tales of the Uncanny and Unusual and in the science fiction, fantasy and horror category in 2013 for the anthology Night Shadows: Queer Horror, co-edited with J.M. Redmann. As Todd Gregory, he was also nominated in the Gay Erotica category in 2010 for the anthology Rough Trade: Dangerous Gay Erotica and in 2013 for the anthology Raising Hell: Demonic Gay Erotica.

Openly gay, Herren lives in New Orleans, Louisiana, where he also works as an HIV/AIDS counselor and educator. He was also a co-founder of the Saints and Sinners Literary Festival.

While not erotic, Herren's mystery novels feature homosexual characters and cater to that audience. His choices have proven controversial on occasion. In 2005, he was invited to speak to the Gay-Straight Alliance at Manchester High School in Chesterfield County, Virginia. However, the superintendent and the school board later canceled his appearance under pressure from the Virginia Family Policy Network, which had organized an e-mail campaign claiming that Herren wrote gay pornography and would not be an appropriate speaker. Herren commented that only a small portion of his writing has erotic overtones, and that, regardless, he hadn't planned to discuss his sexual orientation during his presentation. He said: "I was planning on talking about being a professional writer.… I was not planning on talking about sex." and was defended by the American Civil Liberties Union.

1962 – South African activist Zackie Achmat has been a pivotal figure in his country's response to AIDS. His refusal, from 1999 to 2003, to avail himself of anti-retroviral drugs until they became affordable for the poor brought him recognition from health and human rights advocates worldwide.

In a 1995 autobiographical essay, provocatively entitled "My Childhood as an Adult Molester," he describes the conditions of life for South Africa's "coloureds" during the apartheid era, when he suffered discrimination and poverty. Although of Malaysian extraction, he identified with the country's black population, who were subject to even worse treatment.

The essay also offers a rare portrait of gay male life in the colored community. By age ten, Achmat was aware of his homosexuality. An eager reader, he received a special pass to use a town library ordinarily reserved for whites. However, its restrooms were still off limits. While seeking available facilities, he discovered restroom sex with adult men and took up the life of a "moffie," South African slang for a gay man.

Achmat's political activism began with the 1976 student uprisings against apartheid. He organized youth resistance groups for the African National Congress (ANC) while it was still banned, and he was jailed several times.

In the 1990s apartheid was repealed. The ANC came to power under the charismatic leadership of Nelson Mandela in 1994. Achmat was one of the founders of the National Coalition for Gay and Lesbian Equality in 1994, which advocated for gay rights in the new constitution. In 1996 South Africa became the first nation to include protections against discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation in its Bill of Rights. In 1998 all remaining local sodomy laws were declared unconstitutional.

Achmat co-founded the Treatment Action Campaign (TAC) in 1998 to address the AIDS epidemic. South Africa then had the highest number of AIDS cases in the world, a figure that would eventually grow to over 5 million. To put a human face on the crisis, Achmat publicly announced his own HIV-positive status and vowed not to take anti-retroviral drugs until they were available to all South Africans. As he later told his group, "The majority of people with HIV—they don't have a face, they don't have a political understanding. They're desperate, they're poor, they're alone . . . I can't look them in the eye when I take medicines and I know they're going to die."

Enduring frequent bouts of illness, Achmat spearheaded TAC's civil disobedience campaign to force the government to promote the use of ARVs. TAC and other groups sued the government to provide Nevirapine to curb mother-to-newborn transmission of HIV. TAC won the support of former president Mandela, who met with Achmat and declared him a national hero.

In August 2003, anticipating a victory, Achmat resumed treatment in time to reverse his declining health. In November, South Africa's Ministry of Health finally agreed to a government-funded program to provide ARVs on a wide scale. Although there have been other obstacles to effective treatment for HIV infection in South Africa, TAC has made steady progress

On 5 January 2008, Achmat married his same-sex partner and fellow activist Dalli Weyers at a ceremony in the Cape Town suburb of Lakeside. The ceremony was attended by then Mayor Helen Zille and presided over by Supreme Court of Appeal judge Edwin Cameron. The couple divorced amicably in June 2011

1967 – Philippe Honoré is a French violinist who has been a regular recitalist in France and the United Kingdom. He was appointed Violin Professor at the Royal Academy of Music in London September 2012. He has performed widely in broadcast recitals on French radio and television.

Philippe Honoré divides his busy schedule between solo work, chamber music, as well as leading orchestras. He was a principal player with the Philharmonia Orchestra (from 2005 to 2011). After having received top honours from the Paris Conservatoire and the Royal Academy of Music in London, he was made Lauréat of the Yehudi Menuhin Foundation of France in 1992. He was awarded an Honorary Associateship by the Royal Academy of Music in 2001.

Honoré is a former member of the Vellinger Quartet and a founder member of the Mobius ensemble. As such, he has appeared in some of the most prestigious venues abroad (such as Amsterdam's Concertgebouw) and in the UK (such as the Wigmore Hall and the South Bank in London). He has appeared as a soloist performing Beethoven, Mozart, Bach and Vivaldi concerti, as well as Ravel's Tzigane.

Philippe regularly appears as guest leader with some of the UK's best orchestras. He has made numerous solo and chamber music recordings. His solo violin performances on the Decca album An Equal Music are regularly featured on both Classic FM and Radio 3. The novel of that name by the author Vikram Seth was inspired by and dedicated to him. Vikram Seth and he were at one time lovers in a ten-year relationship.

Philippe's collaboration with the composer Alec Roth over a recent four-year project earned him great critical acclaim. The performances took place at the Salisbury, Chelsea, and The Lichfield Festival. BBC Radio 3 recorded and broadcast these annual concerts, in which, in addition to the world premières of Roth's work, Philippe also played solo Bach and Ysaÿe sonatas. The Times described his account of Roth's solo work in 2007 as “magically played”. A studio recording of Alec Roth's Ponticelli for solo violin, played by Philippe, was released by Signum records in November 2011.

1981 – Brandon Scott Sessoms, best known as B. Scott, born in Franklin, Virginia, is an American television personality, radio show host and internet celebrity who is known for his YouTube videoblogs and website LoveBScott.com. He is also a contributing editor to The Glam Network, and an Ebony Magazine advice columnist.

Scott, who is a gender non-conforming androsexual, has become a popular internet personality through his video blogging and his website, LoveBScott.com. Scott's internet presence has contributed to his ability to interview celebrities such as Mariah Carey, Ne-Yo, Chaka Khan, Aubrey O'Day and Ashanti. Following his Internet-based success, he has appeared in mainstream media, making appearances on The Tyra Banks Show, and shows on Oxygen and BET.

Scott was born to parents of African-American, Irish, Jewish and Meherrin ancestry. As a teenager Scott was selected to attend the North Carolina School of Science and Mathematics (NCSSM), a two-year public residential high school.

After graduating from NCSSM in 1999, he attended University of North Carolina and came out as gay and transgender in his sophomore year. He said in a video blog that he had feelings and was questioning previously but when he was a sophomore pre-med, he got his first romantic kiss from a man and realized he was attracted to men, and that he was using the intense pre-med education to distract himself from his sexuality. He stopped efforts to become a physician from the realization that it was a self-invented distraction. Scott graduated in 2002 with a B.A. in Psychology

Scott moved to Washington, DC where he briefly practiced as a licensed realtor in the Capitol Hill area. In June 2005, Scott moved to Los Angeles, California where he continued his work in real estate and as an interior designer. It was during this time that he began his interest in the entertainment industry, while briefly working in print ads as a fashion model.

On January 1, 2007, Scott launched LoveBScott.com which primarily focuses on pop culture: celebrity news, fashion, music, nightlife, and miscellaneous entertainment. The name lovebscott.com was selected in an effort to give his website a readily-identifiable personality with the mission of conveying a positive outlook.

In May 2007, B. Scott started incorporating YouTube videos into his website to personally connect with readers. The videos include personal observations, celebrity news, musical performances, political commentary, interviews and messages of encouragement to the audience. The videos are produced out of his Los Angeles residence. His YouTube channel has over 90,000 subscribers, and has won numerous awards for viewership and subscriptions

1987 – Finland: Pekka Haavisto the first openly gay member of Finnish parliament, takes office. He is a Finnish politician and minister representing the Green League. He returned to the Finnish Parliament in the Finnish parliamentary election of March 2007 after an absence of 12 years and was re-elected again in 2011. In October 2013 he was appointed as the Minister for International Development after Heidi Hautala resigned from the job. He has also been a member of the Helsinki City Council.

2018 – San Francisco renames Terminal 1 at the San Francisco International Airport after slain LGBT supervisor Harvey Milk and installs artwork memorializing the civil rights icon. The name change was first introduced in 2013 by then-Supervisor David Campos who had initially hoped to name the entire airport after Milk but the proposal met with opposition. Instead, an airport naming committee was established, which recently recommended naming SFO’s Terminal 1 after Milk.

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polishdynasty · 1 year

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QUEEN ANNE OF CILLI (1386 — 21 may 1416)

Anne of Cilli was born probably in the 1386 as a daughter of William, Count of Cilli and Anne of Poland. Her father died when she was around ten years of age and her mother had remarried to Ulrich, Duke of Teck. Because of that, Anne was left under the care of her father's brother, Herman. According to the legend, in 1399 King Jadwiga of Poland on her deathbed told Władysław Jagiełło, her current husband, to marry Anne of Cilli so he could still rule Poland. Anne was a granddaughter of Casimir The Great, the last king from the Piast dynasty, so having a descendant of him as a wife would strengthen Władysław's position on the throne. One year later a delegation composed of Jan of Oblichów, Jan of Ostrowiec and Hinczka of Rogów came to Cilli with a proposition of marriage between King of Poland and Anne. Herman, Count of Cilli immediately agreed and in 16th July 1401 Countess come to Cracow. She was welcomed by Poles with joy, but according to the Jan Długosz her future husband wasn't that happy. The wedding was postponed and Anne sent to a convent to learn polish language. Finally in 29th January 1402, in the Wawel Cathedral, their wedding took place. There were many guests, including Vytautas, the Grand Duke of Lithuania. One year later Anne was crowned a Queen of Poland and was able meet her mother for the first time since the Duchess left Celje.

The marriage of Anne and Władysław was quite cold at the beginning. The king often left the capital, leaving his wife alone. He was also known to be suspicious, introverted person, so it took him a while to trust Anne. It also didn't help that the queen had been accused of marital infidelity several times. The first time was in 1407: Klemens of Moskorzew accused Anne of cheating on her husband with Jakub of Kobylan and Mikołaj Chrząstowski and the proof was supposed to be the sudden collapse of the floor in Queen's chamber. King at first believed in that and locked Jakub. Polish nobles during the convention in Niepołomice defended Anne and the woman was found innocent. But year later she was accused of having an affair with Andrzej of Tęczyn — this case did not reach a public hearing. In 1411 the Queen was accused of having the infidelity with archbishop Kurowski, but some sources says that actually Anne accused the man for a inappropriate attitude to her person. Kurowski died during a trip to the royal court to clear things up. For a first few years of marriage Anne of Cilli didn't give a birth to a child. It is known that she had several miscarriages. In the 1408 their first and only child, Princess Jadwiga, was born. Władysław was disappointed that the baby turned out to be a girl, but for a many years she was considered the heiress of the kingdom and a possible future king.

Anne hated the Teutonic Order as much as her husband and unlike her predecessor, urged Władysław to go to war with them. And he did that. In 1410 after the battle of Grunwald, Jagiełło sent two laters to inform about his victory: one of them was sent to Anne. It is the proof that their relationship develop during the years and Władysław started to like her and see as a friend and partner.

The Queen accompanied her husband during the trip to Hungary, where Jagiełło was negotiating with Sigismund of Luxembourg. There she met with her cousin, Barbara, who was the second wife of Sigismund. Thanks to Anne, the polish regalia, which King Louis The Great once brought with him to Buda, returned to Poland. Anne also visited Lithuania and observe the Christanisation of Samogitia. In early 1415 she travelled with her husband and even met Alexander of Moldavia in Sniatyn.

Anne came back to Cracow and Władysław travelled to Lithuania. Probably at the end of 1415, the queen got sick. In 1416 a special envoy was sent to king with a information that Anne was seriously ill. Despite the news, Jagiełło didn't hurry back to Cracow. He approached the capitol in May and few days later, 21th May 1416 the queen died. She was buried in the Wawel's Cathedral, near to altor of Saint Dorothy.

#historyedit #koronakrólówedit #korona królów #the crown of the kings #korona królów jagiellonowie #anne of cilli #anna cylejska

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zaevauhm · 1 year

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Barcelona 1/4

this was actually the first thing I ever wrote` + english is not my first language + mentions of anxiety + 2.4k word count

it’s the first part to a 4 chapter story

‘’Do we have everything?’’ Anxiously, you looked up at your friend Layla. ‘’Yes, let’s go, we will be late, babe.’’ She replied, looking back at you from your bed. You could tell she was really trying to get through to you by the way her big blue eyes were staring you down. The two of you were sat in your bedroom, busy packing two small bags.

You were in desperate need of any sort of escape, the stress about more than one thing was really getting to you by now. Uni, work, not to mention your terrible mental health that seemed to even escape the notice of your closest friends. You were an absolute pro at hiding how you were actually feeling; it was getting scary by now. You were always the person that others leaned on, that others came to for help and support. Always the giver, never the taker. Just the fact that you had friends to begin with, was enough for you. Grateful nature is how you justified your actions to yourself.

It was a no brainer that when your mother, who you rarely saw, called for you to visit her and some other family members during a business trip in Barcelona, you didn’t spend much time thinking about it. It meant a drive of approximately 12 hours, and a week of being away. Good timing, you figured.

You made a call to one of your closer friends, asking her to go with you. Of course, as expected, she was beyond excited. You packed for your little getaway in under a couple of hours, and were ready to leave during the early morning hours. The trip would give you two some much needed time together to catch up and you’d be able to do some much needed stress relief.

Liege, Luxembourg, Lyon, Montpellier…

You’d spend a lot of time behind the wheel naturally, as a 2nd year motorsport engineering student, but for some reason this drive was different. You didn't want to slow down, and didn’t necessarily want to arrive quickly either. Your first long stop to eat wasn’t until you arrived at the very south of the somewhat cold country of France. Carefully you parked at a big gas station, letting out a yawn and grabbing your phone from the console to check some notifications, right before your breath got stuck in your throat.

‘’Are you okay?’’ Layla asked you as she noticed you started to look pale in the face.

You opened your work group chat after hours, or better said probably days of leaving it muted. Your eyes immediately fell on the PDF document that was sent by your boss not long ago.

F1 Winter test in Barcelona 23-25 February, 2022. It is February 22nd today.

SHIT

‘’Uhm yes I’m fine, let’s go inside’’ you mumbled.

You ordered for both you and Layla. Somehow managing to speak a well-understandable French. The two of you ate, a pasta that felt like it was going to hurt your stomach later, but you two were never picky when it came to food, especially not during trips. Layla showing you the guy she was talking to this week, you laughed and finished up before you made your way down the stairs of the restaurant, walking back to the gas station.

Your car was filled up, your body stretched a little bit and your energy reloaded enough for the last push of the drive.

Before you got back into the car, you told Layla you’d go back inside the gas station to take an aspirin quickly. ‘’Just in case’’, you said.

Slightly worried, Layla nodded her head at you, while closing the passenger door of your car. She wasn’t stupid either. It was quite obvious something was going on in your head, even though you were laughing with her just a minute ago.

You left to the bathrooms that were located outside the building, opened WhatsApp again to be sure of what you just read. How could you be so stupid? You completely forgot about it. Was it a good or a bad thing, even?

It was only a while ago that you met the person who you’ve been trying to get out of your head ever since. You remember it so vividly, that one night.

You were sat inside of your car with your colleague and friend Alex. The drivers’ door open, looking down at your phone, waiting for the que that you two could go home. Meanwhile a lot of Marshalls were outside the gates of the Zandvoort circuit, waiting for everyone that was working on the track that day to exit safely.

Mechanics exited, team principals, trucks, engineers, marshalls, eventually drivers as well. A lot of men exiting would honk, wink, smile or try to get your attention in any other way. You remember how disgusting it made you feel. It was late, you were tired, most of the fans had already left. The cold Dutch air that kept flowing in your car was the only thing keeping you awake at that point. You saw fans screaming at Lando Norris, Carlos Sainz and Pierre Gasly. Some of them stopped to take pictures with them, you could see just outside the gates. Good for them, you thought.

You honestly didn’t bat an eye, you were never the type to care for famous people, even if they were F1 drivers. Even if your life constantly revolved around racing and working on the tracks. You figured it's nothing more than a nice feature on your student curriculum. Was that really the reason you started working there, though?

Your thoughts were irrupted when Alex smirked and poked your arm with his elbow. ‘’What?’’ You replied dryly, without bothering to look up from your phone, looking at a story Lewis Hamilton had posted hours prior. You were a complete mess when it came to him, you’d never dare to go near him in fear of literally fainting. That’s how big of a crush you had on him, he was your only idol, the only person you were looking up to. It felt like something completely childish to you, and besides, this was real life. Not some fairy-tale where everything would somehow be possible. He was nothing but a far, far away dream.

’’I think someone fancies you’’, he chuckles.

You look up to Alex and notice him looking past you, to your left. You turn, only to directly meet the eyes of Lewis Hamilton. There he was, in the actual flesh. He drove past you, as anyone else, on his way to the exit. The only difference is that he stopped. For a few seconds you exchanged the most electrifying eye contact you’d ever had in your life. He smiled at you, obviously knowing what he was doing.

‘’Get out and talk to him, this is your chance!’’ Alex shouted. You felt like your stomach had just dropped out of your body. You were perplexed, you couldn’t even think straight. Your mind going blank, and the only thing you could do out of shame, is looking away, you couldn’t afford him to see you while you didn’t even know what kind of facial expression to make. From the side of your eye, you noticed his smile disappearing, waiting for a few more seconds before finally driving off, leaving you behind. You never saw him again.

Even though it was an excuse to get some fresh air and think about what you’re going to do in Barcelona, you got some aspirins from the gas station and a bottle of water. Popped two and swallowed them quickly. You figured that remembering that night would eventually give you a headache anyway. You couldn’t quite believe what happened, even though it might have seemed like nothing to anyone else. That was a one in a million, gazillion chance that he would have been able to talk to you. There was no one around, except your colleague.

No cameras, no interviewers, nothing. Before you go all emotional you stop yourself there and man up. You exited the building to walk back to the car, figuring that you would see what to do with the information of you two being in the same place during the same time again once you get there. Knowing your friend all too well, though, you knew that she was just the right person to tell this to. But how? You were honestly ashamed for not being the strong, confident person everyone thought you were when it came to guys, especially in the eyes of your friends.

You lower yourself into the big, black leather seats of your white Mercedes, wanting them to swallow you whole at this point. Layla obviously looked right through your facade. ‘’You know you can tell me anything, right?’’

‘’Yes, I know’’ you replied. ‘’It’s just stupid, you’ll probably think I’m an idiot for even thinking about this’’. You sighed.

‘’I can literally tell something is bothering you, do I need to beat someone up?’’

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. You loved your friends; they would go to the ends of the earth for you. Sometimes you wonder what you did to deserve them, being so introverted in contrast to them.

‘’I think I might be in love with someone who is going to be in Barcelona, just like us’’. You spilled.

Layla looked at you more shocked than you’ve ever seen her before. With wide eyes, she couldn’t help but yell. ‘’YOU?!’’

‘’You’re in WHAT? HOW? WHO? How the hell am I just hearing about this now, you little….’’

‘’Well, obviously, you know, not in actual love, just-’’

‘’Hold on now.’’ Layla stopped you. ‘’Start from the beginning. Details.’’

She had every right to react like that, you were probably the last person to let out these words. You never had many crushes, or even boyfriends, despite all of the attention. The last time you were happily dating someone or being intimate must have been years ago. You usually kept to yourself when it came to these things anyway, but there simply hasn’t been much to tell.

‘’It’s nothing, it’s not going anywhere, it’s impossible…’’ you started, tone directly much lower, stopping when you noticed the crack in your voice. You felt so small all of a sudden, trying to push yourself back more in the seats of your car, as if you could somehow hide. You really didn’t want to admit to these feelings, not even to yourself.

‘’Who is it?’’

‘’Lewis.’’

‘’Lewis Hamilton?’’ Layla replied, looking at you, furrowing her eyebrows.

‘’Yeah.’’ You dragged the word out, making it almost questionable, while looking down at your fingers that were resting on the bottom of your steering wheel.

‘’Why wouldn’t that work?’’ She surprised you. ‘’Have you seen yourself?’’ You knew she wasn’t lying to you, you were undeniably beautiful, if you had to believe others. Always being mistaken for some model or some instagram celebrity, especially at tracks. In all honesty, you could have easily passed for one, anyways. Your mental health and self-image would always be your biggest enemy, because even with the daily compliments you got, even from strangers, you would never see yourself like they do.

‘’Obvious reasons.’’

Everything spilled, you told her about your feelings, especially since Zandvoort last year. Layla was carefully listening to you. Nodding here and there, processing everything in her head. You could tell she was going to come up with some crazy solution that only she could think of, you truly loved her for this.

‘’But he noticed you in Zandvoort?’’

‘’Yeah, I guess. He saw me and stopped before I saw him’’.

‘’My god.’’

‘’Lay, what do you want me to do? DM him and say ‘’hey, I’m that blonde girl you’ve exchanged eye contact with somewhere a year ago, remember me?’’ It would sound ridiculous. He gets attention from girls on the daily, there is no way he would even remember me’’. You let out a deep sigh. ‘’But it’s just... I can’t shake him either.’’

‘’Look, it’s not going to be that hard. You’re going to that winter testing, and you’ll get to see him again. I’m sure of it.’’ Layla firmly spoke. ‘’We should go, I feel like we’ve been sitting here for hours, and you have someone to reunite you with,'' she says while squeezing your cheek softly with her fingers, earning a smile from you.

You noticed from that moment her whole focus shifted to you; she would be super selfless for the rest of the trip. You trusted her, and trusted that whatever was going to happen, it would somehow work out. All you really wanted was to get rid of the knot in your stomach, and the best person to help you achieve that goal was Layla. She is the type of person that doesn’t let anything she wanted slip away from her. A quality you appreciated more than ever before now.

It’s 8 PM, you’re still in the south of France, about 5 hours removed from Barcelona.

The rest of the drive was a complete blur, you were tired both mentally and physically, but the first sign that showed ‘’Barcelona’’ in big letters gave you a little bit of energy, as well as terrible nerves flushing through your body, keeping you awake.

You were happy to finally arrive to the hotel, calling a receptionist to send someone to take your bags, stepping out of the car in the middle of the somewhat warm night. You had missed this, the lit- up palm trees, the smell of the salty sea hitting you like you were tens of thousands of miles away from home.

‘’I’m so happy our hotel is right by the beach, bless the wallets of that family of yours’’ Layla joked at you laughing, as she also got out of the car to the sights of the Arts Hotel.

You giggled back at her. ‘’You’re welcome.’’ You didn’t come from a rich family, but certainly a wealthy one. Whatever you would have, you were more than happy to share with your friends. If you could take them with you, you would.

7 AM

Sunrays started to heat your face, as you turned around trying to desperately fall back into sleep. You felt fussy, drenched from the drive as nerves starting to hit you. You hated these types of mornings when the first thing you would feel was anxiety. Slowly moving your arm around to find your phone somewhere between the sheets, trying not to wake Layla. 7:01 AM. Already? Really? You thought. After closing the curtains when you got up to get some water, you slowly let yourself sink back into the big bed. Luckily, the next time you opened your eyes and check your phone 3 hours had passed, and you felt ready to actually start your day.

#fanfic #formula1 #lewis hamilton #storytimeeee #idontknowwhatimdoingwiththesetagspleasedontaskme #iloveyouforreading #lovestories #lh #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #mercedes #feedback is welcome #writing #let me know what yall think #✌🏻💗

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anotherhumaninthisworld · 11 months

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I’ve seen on Tumblr that Camille wanted to marry Lucile’s mother, Annette Bosdeveix. Do you know what the source is for that and is there anything else we know about Camille and Annette’s relationship? Thank you!

We actually know quite a bit about the relationship between Camille and Annette. Not long ago, eight letters from the former to the latter written between the years 1784 - 1790 were published for everyone to read. I won’t translate them in their entirety here though, both because I think this would get way too long if I did, and because I sometimes honestly can’t fully make out what Camille is trying to say.

Camille and Annette’s first meeting dates back to the spring 1783, when the former is a 23 year old law student and the latter a 32 year old mother of two, married since 15 years back. Camille first spots Annette walking in the Luxembourg garden with her daughters, Lucile (13 years old) and Adèle (9 years old). He describes this meeting in the following verse, dedicated to ”Mme D, who always goes for a walk with her two demoiselles” and published in the l’Almanach littéraire in 1784 and the Affiches du Beauvaisis in 1785:

Everyone stops and says: ”how beautiful she is!” As for me, I’ve never seen her. But that doesn’t stop me from asking: ”is she a goddess or a mortal?” How can I hold myself back, seeing so many attractions, And two doves following her.

(Chacun s’arrête, et se dit, ”qu’elle est belle!” Pour moi, je ne la vis jamais . Sans demander: est-elle ou déesse ou mortelle? Pouvais-je m’y réprendre, en voyant tant d’attraits, Et deux colombes auprès d’elle.)

Camille eventually approaches Annette and the two start talking about poetry and Camille’s literary projets. Annette consults him to meet one M. Neveu, and even fixes and interview between the two. From a letter Camille writes her on July 10 1784 (the first of those recently published) we do however learn that he wants their relationship to go deeper than that:

It was doing you justice to believe that a musician presented to me by your hand could not fail to be preferred to all the ini [sic]. […]My job was to get acquainted with Madame Duplessis, and instead of taking me into her apartment, I was taken to the house of a musician. You will agree, Madame, that this is perfidy. Besides, it is up to you that tomorrow my work will be in the hands of Mr. Neveu, and since it costs you so little to procure it for him, if this little costs you still too much, I will see that you want me to renounce for ever sweeter hopes, and I will confine myself to admiring you from afar in the alleys of the Luxembourg.

The letter does however also make it clear that Camille only sees their relationship as platonic:

That among the authors, you choose the one whose poetry dates only from your walks in the Luxembourg and the day he saw you there, it is a very natural thing and I do not understand your excessive delicacy towards a young man who, for fifteen months, has given you such multiplied proofs that platonic love is not a chimera.

So no, the idea that Camille sought to marry Lucile’s mother would appear to be false. It can also be added that Annette wasn’t the only woman he wrote love verses to around this period, evidently a big interest of his. To a lady present for the divorce trial of one Maître Gerbier, Camille adressed the following verse:

De milles qualités nature te dota; Sexe charmante, sexe si tendre; Par un seul don le ciel nous consola. Il nous fit les plus forts; ce bien ce qu’il nous laissa, C’est le plaisir de te défendre.

In July 1783 he also assured one demoiselles de Compiègne that ”I owe the majority of verses I’ve written this year to you, it’s you who have inspired me.” The same year, the Journal de Paris published a poem he wrote for one Mme de Courve, and the year after that Camille published a similar verse adressed to Mme de La Lande in l’Almanach littéraire.

In 1786 Camille, sad over Annette having parted for her country house at Bourg-la-Reine for the summer, wrote her the following verse:

Me voilà donc après trois ans Toujours à la premiere page Du plus ennuyeux des romans; On m’eût fait languir moins longtemps Si j’avais été plus volage. Je le disais, et cependant, Pour vous voir encore un instant Je volais sur votre passage; Et quand vous fuyiez de ces lieux Les pleurs qui coulaient de mes yeux Soutanient bien mal ce langage Ce n’est point cette majesté Et cette taille de déesse Et cette grâce enchanteresse Et ces beaux yeux, quand la tendresse En adohcissait la fierté Que je vais regretter sans cesse. Mais que j’aime à vous voir sur le déclin du jour, Sous un ombrage solitaire À vos enfants souriant tour à tour Insensible au charme de plaire, Insensible aux plaisirs qu’offre l’amour, Ne goûter que ceux d’être mère Ah! Lorsque l’encens le plus duox Sur la terrasse vous appelle, Pourquoi vous éloigner de vingt cercles jaloux? D[uplessis], est-ce, dites-nous, Crainte d’alarmer un époux? Est-ce honte d’être la plus belle ? C’était ces regards si touchants, Ce son de voux si doux, cette mélancolie, Ces fleurs que vous jetait Julie; C’était ces deux boutons naissants Près d’une rose épanouie, Qui m’ont conduit à vos genoux Et m’auraient fait trouver si doux De passer près de vous ma vie. Il vous eût peu coûté de captiver mon cœur Vous voir est plus que posséder une autre, Et je pensais que faire mon bonheur Ce serait ajouter au vôtre.

One year later he asked Annette and her husband Claude if one day, when his financial situation had improved, he could marry their oldest daughter, a request that was rejected. Camille did however not give up so easily, in March the same year he wrote a letter to Claude refuting all of his charges as to why the idea was a bad one. When that didn’t bear any fruit he instead tried to influence Annette, which gives us the following letter from December 5 1787:

[…] Judge if the noise of this carriage pleases me, when it warns me that you are driving your daughter into the world where she is going to find so many admirers. Thus will all my dreams vanish. Do I dare, however, Madame, to remind you of what you told me, that you would put no ambition in the choice of son-in-law, and that my profession seemed to you quite honest and quite noble. This is what inspired me with some confidence. Must you take away from me today a hope so dear to the attachment that I have nurtured for so many years to come out of my heart with hope! […] I beg you, Madame, do not read this letter to your husband, with whom I would still pass for a madman, it is to you that I am writing it, to you who do not return my letters to me and that I I never left, without leaving your presence, if not full of contentment, at least full of patience. Shall I not have the pleasure of conversing with you at least sometimes? […] I found verses printed and maimed in provincial notices which I had addressed to you; I take the liberty of sending them to you and of renewing my homage to you. Will you do nothing for your poet?

On March 4 1788 he once again writes to Annette to inform her about his first real success as a lawyer, hoping that might persuade her to hand over her daugther:

[…] Once you have read my memoir, and compared it with the feeble consultation of Me Fournel who nevertheless enjoys such a great reputation, I dare to imagiene, Madame, that you will forgive me for having also hoped for some consideration; and that you will forgive me for having nourished another much more cherished hope, remembering that M. Duplessis, a year before yesterday, did not even demand that I should become a famous lawyer in order to obtain Mademoiselle Duplessis. Now this hope is weakening every day, I see that everyone has the same eyes for your daughter as I do, it seems to that in every moment someone comes to ask for her hand. I am waiting for my justificatory memorandum which will finally fix my fate and make access to you either open or closed forever. The encouragement that has sustained me most in this work to which I have sacrificed all my business has been the hope of presenting it to you. Is it possible, Madame, that when the image of happiness that I find with you detaches me from all societies and makes them bland and unbearable, you never tire of pushing me away from yours, which would take the place of the whole universe?

But twelve days later we find another letter from Camille, where we learn that Annette had once again responded with disapproval and even asked him to stop vistiting her house:

What harm have I done you for you to treat me so harshly? And how could a letter which I wrote only to persuade you offend you and draw such a bitter response from me? I don't want it to be your fault if I conceived a mad passion, but don't we owe anything to those who are made to suffer even without our fault? Could you not make me understand in a less mortifying way, that there was madness in my pursuit, that the disproportion of fortunes (which I only knew about yesterday) was an insurmountable obstacle; you would have seemed to pity me, and I could not have complained of you, on the contrary, I would have thanked you for the care you took to prevent a disastrous passion, I would have believed myself well treated; for you know better than anyone that it takes very little to make me believe it. Sometimes you have really put my self-esteem to severe trials! One does not die of spite, if so I would have already have died a thousand times. But all it would take is a glance, half a smile, to bring me back. Even today, at this moment, all my self-love is incurable! I am trying to reconcile the harshness of what you have just written to me, with the very different speech that you gave me, and I am trying to interpret it favorably. It seems to me that the remedy you employ is either too violent or too little. It's up to you to make yourself lovable anywhere other than at my place. Is it just a defence? Or is it not also a permission? Forbidden to make myself friendly in your eyes at your place, permission to make myself friendly, if possible, in the Luxembourg. This is what it means to be a lawyer. […] This leads me to believe that your answer does not carry a permanent banishment, that was what you repeated for me in the Luxembourg, not at the moment, and besides, it's still a letter that I received from you, which is something. You see Madame that I am laughing and crying at the same time. Thank you, one more word from you. Or, treat me so harshly that you force me to hate you and even your demoiselles; or, if your feelings have not changed since the conversation I had the honor of obtaining from you in the Luxembourg, refuse me permission to come to your house now, so as to give me the hope of one day obtaining it.

After this, it would appear the two cut contacts for a while. In a letter dated October 27 1788 to his best friend from school Pierre Jean André Grasset, Camille spoke disapprovingly of the whole family, even accusing Annette of wanting to seduce him:

I always continued to chase the same hare, the mother lured me into the house, the father promised me his daughter, gave me his word of honour; the girl made me think she wanted me; a few days later came a terrible storm which threw me far from the door, farther than ever. […] I could not imagine that by courting the girl I had pleased the mother, and that she wanted to take a chance on me; I could not trust the rascal of a servant who went home to me to invite me to take lodgings in the apartment next to theirs, that the girl was flirtatious, that it was was the mother who liked me, that I would succeed. Today the scales have fallen from my eyes; but then I thought they wanted to test me, a new promise to give her to me, a new rupture.

Camille and Annette picked up contacts again in 1790, with Camille sometimes even being invited into the apartment again. Camille was once again hoping to be able to marry Lucile, and this time he started using the contacts he’d gained as a journalist to impress her parents. On April 15 he writes ”It was M. Linguet I showed you this morning through my window,” and two weeks later he told her that Mirabeau and Emmery were coming to visit their country house at Bourg-la-Reine together with him. Annette was however still hesitant, causing Camille to grow desperate:

(April 14 1790) If you knew what trap has been laid for me, you would have compassion for me. I can clearly see that I am no happier in friendships than I am with love… It is not that I believed for a moment in calumnies; it is thus so, I said to myself, that they slandered me to Madame Duplessis, it is by these artifices that they closed their door to me. However, I was only asked to suspend my judgment, I was to have some clarification this morning for which I would be grateful. I went to look for it and saw only a gross conspiracy against my happiness. I don't know who to trust in the world anymore. Madame, you have sometimes shown interest in me, have pity on my situation; I no longer dare to come to your house, three times I have been refused entry, but deign to give me a moment's interview to unravel this riddle for you, and don't think that I could ever believe that Mademoiselle Lucile and M. Duplessis deceived me so cruelly. Virtue and sensibility have a physiognomy that art does not counterfeit. I distrust all men now, but something tells me that my trust would not be betrayed if I place it in you without reserve. […]This number which belonged to you, since you had it made for me in such a short time, you had the cruelty to send it back to me without wanting to read it.

(April 15 1790) Your note would be an answer to my letter, if it was to alarm you that I had asked you for an interview. I read there this answer: of such kind as the calumnies of which you speak, they are so devoid of verisimilitude that it is impossible for them to shake my security, and yet it is useless to grant you the interview that you ask for. But, Madame, it was for me that I requested this interview. It is for me alone that I beg you to have compassion. After seven years of the most constant and most unfortunate passion, at least leave me the sweetness of thinking that the beauty I loved was worthy of being so idolized, that I only have myself to blame, and not nature, which has not made me the one who was to touch her heart. I can no longer be happy, but to be less miserable I need someone to convince me that I was not used as a toy... […] Madame, you have given me marks of interest which I oppose in the bottom of my heart to all these thoughts which sometimes arise there, according to which you amuse yourself by tormenting my life. Add this new brand of benevolence. Grant me an interview, I beg you. Despite all the harm you have done me, I believe that Mademoiselle Lucile's heart is modeled after yours; I think they are both excellent. You don't want to remember that day when you promised me the hand of your dear daughter, or when you assured me that you could dispose of her heart. Why did you promise me what was not in your power? For what? […] What have I done that could have made me be refused three times at your door? If only you knew how much these refusals humiliate me, drive me to despair. I felt terrible last Saturday night. I implore you, Madame, to at least grant me an extraordinary interview today.

(May 10 1790) […] Did you notice how Mademoiselle Lucile sent me away cruelly yesterday? But you must always admire her more and more and she must be allowed to have a little pride. I really hope that now at least, I have no more new talents to discover in her, if she has any that I still don't know about, please hide them from me. I kiss your hands; for Mademoiselle Lucile there is no way to kiss hers even with gloves on. However, Madame, you are so much loved. What hurt you yesterday has hurt your celestial Lucile so much that if you wanted to take my interests to heart, I would hope for everything. Forget what she forbade you.

But on December 11 Annette and Claude finally agreed to let Camille marry Lucile (I’ve not been able to discover he exact reasons for their change of heart), and as can be seen through the following letterCamille sent his father the same day, Annette was happy with the decision:

This charming Lucile, whom I have talked to you so much about, whom I have loved for the past eight years, at last her parents give her to me and she does not refuse me. Her mother just came to tell me the news, crying of joy. […] When her mother told me a moment ago, she brought me to her room; I threw myself on Lucile’s lap; surprised at hearing her laugh I open my eyes, hers were in no better state than mine, she was all in tears, she was even crying profusely and yet she was still laughing. I have never seen such a delightful spectacle, and I would not have imagined that nature and sensibility could unite these two contrasts to such an extent.

Eightteen days later Annette and the rest of the family attended the couple’s wedding.

After Camille had gotten his Lucile, no more letters from him to Annette are conserved. We do however know through several other pieces that they remained close afterwards regardless. After their marriage, Camille and Lucile moved to 1 Rue de Théatre Francais (today 22 Rue de l’Odéon), just a two minute walk from Lucile’s childhood home on 22 Rue de Condé. From the diary Lucile kept 1792-1793 we see that Annette was a frequent visitor to the house. Annette also got to know some of Camille’s collegues, such as Danton, who Lucile asks her to give her news about in a letter dated February 16 1792, Fréron, who nicknamed her Melpomène and came to visit their country house, and Robespierre, who she might have planned to marry off her second daughter to. When Annette’s husband was arrested as suspect in January 1794, Camille protested against it both at the Convention and in the Vieux Cordelier.

Once Camille himself was arrested, Annette was reportedly in despair. In his third and final prison letterto Lucile, Camille reports the following:

Last evening my heart broke when I saw your mother in the garden. A mechanical movement threw me on my knees against the bars; I clasped my hands as if imploring her pity, she who moans, I am sure of it, in your bosom. Yesterday I saw her pain, in her handkerchief and her veil which she lowered, unable to bear this spectacle. When you come, let her sit a little closer with you, so that I can see you better.

Camille thought about Annette too, in the same letter he reports about this dream he’s just had:

Heaven took pity on me. Only a moment ago, I saw you in a dream, I embraced you in turn, you, Horace and Daronne (nickname for Annette) who was at our house. […] Farewell Lucile, my Lucile! My dear Lucile! Farewell Horace, Annette, Adèle, farewell my father!

After the death of Camille and Lucile, Annette worked together with Camille’s old friends and collegues Brune, Duplain, Panis and Fréron to get back Camille and Lucile’s confiscated effects and make sure their son Horace, who she adopted, got a good education. She evidently didn’t blame Camille for her daughter’s death, as she in 1800, when writing to Lucien Bonaparte to ask for the disbursement of the pension for Horace, voted through four years earlier by the Conseil de Cinq-Cents, said that his father was ”Camille-Desmoulins, this hero of republican humanity.”

That it was a glorified image of his father Annette provided her grandson with is also proven through a letter Horace wrote in 1822 to the editor Barrière, claiming that his father had never written anything called l’Histoire des Brissotins, in reality a pamphlet essential in the purge of the girondins…

Sources for everything that doesn’t have a link to it: Camille et Lucile Desmoulins: un rêve de république (2019)

#desmoulins #camille desmoulins #lucile desmoulins #annette duplessis #ask #frev #frev friendships

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