#Charles makes it seem easy <33< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[mudstoneabyss]

my brains ping-ponging between thinking about kevlos and thinking about charlevin at rapid speeds

[cheesec4kee]

hi lovely !! i loved your angsty fic with charles. i wondering if you could write a charles x reader based off the the song casual by chappell roan xx

much love

Is it casual now? ⸺ CL¹⁶ ୨୧

you’ve always wanted for it to be more, for it to be a serious relationship. you’ve dreamt of it, but it may be far from ever being serious. it seems like it’ll always just be labeled as ‘casual’.

[ warnings ! ] : gn reader, angst-ish ??, use of y/n like once not proofread

[ a/n ] : words cannot describe how HAPPY I was when I got this req omg, I was giggling n kicking my feet !! thank u sm for this req, I had so much fun writing this !! I hope you like it <33 I’m so sorry if it’s too short (reblogs very much appreciated !!)

⸺ angst under the cut

“remember baby, no attachment.”

his words would ring in your head, loud and clear. and you’d prefer to forget them, you’d very much prefer so. you would’ve much preferred that he never said those words at all, even.

you thought you’ve hit the jackpot, managing to even befriend the monegasque. he was a popular man, a good looking one at that— surrounded with women everywhere he went.

you felt foolish for thinking that the relationship would last, you felt foolish for thinking that he would think of you better. for thinking that he’d consider you as someone he couldn’t lose.

forming a relationship with Charles wasn’t exactly easy. you didn’t know what the two of you were. friends? partners? you were confused, to say the least. you’re still holding onto the relationship, despite hearing so many rumors— that you were just a ‘friend that he bangs on the couch’.

you’d remind yourself every day, every night that the two of you were never together, and never will be. we’re not together, you tried to remind yourself whenever you two kissed, and it hurt, it hurt knowing you weren’t his first priority. you would let the words bounce in your mind as he kissed your cheek, and your forehead occasionally— we’re not together, you’d remind.

and yet, he’ll still brag you to his friends at the pier, he’ll still take care of your needs, eating you out like a starved man in the passenger seat. is it really casual now?

he talks about you to his mom, and you would’ve taken that as a good sign, as his mom invited you to her house on Long Beach— but it pains you knowing that he’s not even committed to the relationship, that’s he’s not even seeking for it. he knows that he’s just using you, and he expects you to do the same— but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. it pains you knowing that he’s talking about you to his mom only for the sake of keeping her happy that her son finally ‘found’ someone.

you’d find yourself dreaming about the two of you, thinking that maybe, just maybe, the two of you would have a shared apartment, decorating it accordingly together— make it feel like home.

and now the two of you are making out on the couch, your arms looped around his neck— his lips pressing onto yours, but his lips tasted bitter. feeling his body pressed against yours made you feel uncomfortable.

he trails down sloppy kisses to your neck, his hands roaming all over your body, finding their way to your hips.

you knew what would happen. the two of you would share an intimate moment, but as soon as it’s over— the two of you a panting and sweaty mess, it always will be “no attachment”.

and so before this would escalate any further, before you would be left with your heart aching— you mustered up the courage to ask him the question.

“..what are we?” you whispered, watching nervously as he lifts his head from your neck to look at you, his eyebrows raised in confusion and surprise on the sudden question.

“what?”

“you heard me.” you sighed, pulling your arms away from his neck, shifting slightly on the couch. the silence was deafening, you needed a answer.

“please. what’s our relationship?”

“you know what it is, y/n.” he sighs quietly, his hand cupping your face— his thumb caressing your cheek, a weak and bitter attempt to comfort you.

“no attachment, baby. it’s casual.”

“then get off of me.”

[pursuedbyamemoryy]

could we do; cupid’s arrow ? [rdr2 + masc preference] a few things about myself: - infp-t - i love love love animals, writing, drawing, and baking - i love studying culture, astronomy, and history - i express love with all love languages - i hate the dark. i really don't like it. like i really don't. - i love taylor swift!! okay that's it! thank you pooksie 🤍🤍

author’s note : ofc pookie 😙 ty for requesting!! this was so fun to write i had to physically restrain myself from just going on and on writing all of my little thoughts about this man... ft. one of the many charles picture from my own play through!! <33 my fav

i match you with… charles!!

i know you really love him so it seems like the obvious and easy answer, but i genuinely think you two would get along very well!

charles is very in tune with nature, and it shows in his hunting and tracking abilities. he's also very respectful of it, and i can see you bonding over your mutual love for animals! he'd take you out hunting with him if that's something you're interested in, and would share all these little fun facts about animals - their own hunting habits, migration patterns, how they are with other animals alike and different, etc.

your hobbies, specifically writing and drawing are quieter ones, ones you could work on next to charles as he does his own little tasks. i feel like he really enjoys quiet quality time, so it works out perfectly. this man would also try everything you bake and would love all of it! he told me so...

as someone who doesn't know much about his own culture, and your curiosity towards others', i think this is another subject that you guys would have in common. he'd tell you everything he knows about his mother's culture and all the stories she told him ☹️ maybe you guys even talk to rains fall and the other wapiti tribe members and learn about their culture and practices. it would interest you as well as make charles feel closer to his mother, and it would definitely be a talking point and a bonding experience for the two of you.

i can see him also being somewhat interested in different histories. maybe not as much as you, but he'd always listen and show genuine interest if you ever told him something new you learned. and as for astronomy... laying under the stars at night with him... away from camp just the two of you... maybe you point out different constellations and stars you know and he's just holding you looking at you with so much love because he just loves listening to you talk about the things you're passionate about AAAAH

anyways... as i mentioned before, i think charles is a quality time as well as an acts of service kind of guy when it comes to giving. and when it comes to receiving i think he also favors quality time but he wouldn't shy away from every other way you offer your love to him!

you hate the dark (me too and this next part is totally not self indulgent.. omg no way, i would never)? don't worry, you have your big strong man to comfort and hold you!! he would understand your dislike towards it, and he would never make fun of you for it. i feel like a lot of people think of being afraid of the dark as "childish" but he disagrees, and understands your feelings. when it gets dark out he'd always be sure to stick close to you, a reminder that he's always there for you.

i love charles smith 🗣️!!

[hedonisticdevil]

[  charles melton,  33,  cisgender man,  he/him  ]  and  now  walking  on  the  red  carpet  is  DANIEL JONG,  we’re  honored  to  be  in  the  presents  of  a  world  class  FOOD AND TRAVEL BLOGGER.  they  say  that  they’re  the  embodiment  of  BAD HABITS  by  ED SHEERAN,  we  can’t  argue  with  that  one  !  rumor  has  it  that  they’re  HEDONISTIC  and  CHARISMATIC.  we  often  hear  fans  online  compare  them  to THE TASTE OF CHAMPAGNE ON LIPS, NOTES QUICKLY SCRIBBLED IN MOLESKINS, WAKING UP IN A STRANGER’S BED.  we  heard  that  there’s  this  one  thing  they  don’t  wish  anybody  to  know;  WORRIES THAT WITHOUT THE FAMILY CONNECTION HE’D BE A NOBODY,  let’s  hope  it’s  not  true  ! 

details:

all daniel jong has known is his own importance. born into a family that was determined to cement their legacy in the world, daniel was raised to believe that he was important, and believe it he did. at least for a little while.

it was difficult not to believe in your own importance when you were surrounded by cameras that seemed interested in your every move, and so, daniel did everything he could to remain relevant, even if those things were not necessarily healthy.

then his family fell apart. his parents got divorced, and the spotlight shifted. he tried to make the switch from reality star to actor, thinking that it would be easy enough, but fame never came knocking. so, daniel did what he did best -- indulged life and found the cameras.

he's working now as a travel and food blogger, if what he does could be considered work. he spends most days traveling, eating at restaurants, and telling the world about it. so far it's been going well, but there's a part of him that can't help but think that without his family's name, he'd be just another nobody screaming into a void, and the idea of that is terrifying.

potential connections:

friends

enemies

hookups, flings, fwbs... you know the like

maybe someone he had significant feelings for but ran away from

any and everything

[3nchantedoll]

It's kinda tragic that Sergio still holds hope on winning a championship. But in my opinion, that will take a while or will never happen. Because Lando, Oscar, Lewis, Charles, Fernando and George have a higher chance of being championship winners over Sergio. I Max for some reason can't win the championship/championships. Who knows how long the Red Bull domination will last? The other teams are starting to catch up. Especially McLaren at the moment.

I believe that there's a chance McLaren will be able to challenge Red Bull next season. Either before or after Mercedes. Of course there is also Ferrari buuut I don't have strong guess on them. So having a strong number two might be VITAL! On one hand I think Daniel might be that. (Let's see how he does on the AT).

Turning this back to Sergio, I think he should retire. Not because he's "washed" but because it might be better option for him. He seems to want to be want with his family and that's completely okay. But if he tries to compete for the championship, instead of focusing on being a reliable number two driver. It will break him again and he might have a worse season than now. At this moment Lewis is 33 points behind him. Fernando 49 points. And we still have six rounds. Fernando might not pass him unless by some miracle Fernando picks some serious points. I can also imagine even Carlos passing him if he doesn't stop messing up.

Red Bull wants a strong second driver. Someone who can either challenge Max and stabily be in the top two or even three or just be his numbertwo. Not sure if Daniel is able to be this.

Being in Sergio's position is not easy. But Sergio still should be proud of what he has achieved. There might be a future Mexican driver who was inspired by him and is a better driver and even might be in a championship level. Sergio is the most successful Mexican driver so far in F1.

If he keeps having bad races. I truly believe RB might drop him by the end of this season. So might not make it to next season in RB. Yes, I know he has a contract until the end of 2024 but F1 contracts aren't set in stone. Just literally look at AT. RB has broken contracts before it was supposed to in the past.

But honestly the rest of the season will be interesting. I hope the best for him. And I also hope him good mental well being.

Long text but these are my thoughts.

[angryhausfrau-writes]

I Travel Troubled Oceans - Chapter 33: In Which We Reach the Tipping Point

Charles walks. Nowhere in particular, really it's just that he can't fucking stand to be in that house right now. Walks long enough and far enough he goes from the broad straight pavement of the wealthy neighborhoods to the grey cracked narrow pavement of the slummier places. Places like where Jack's going to stash all his seamstresses in some sorta company town.

Charles had been all on board for some aspects of domesticity, once he'd got used to the idea. Having a roof over your head without squatting. Having working plumbing, that was nice. He even has his own personal favorite mug in the cupboard of the kitchen.

He's gone soft, is what he's saying. Been domesticated from the days when he'd squat in whatever filthy abandoned hole would put some walls between him and the elements. And the walls were optional.

But some things about domesticity don't sit easy in him. Like having cleaners come and dust all the huge empty rooms they never use.

He knows they're being paid well – he'd insisted on that. But having to buy a house so huge you never use half of it just to look good to the sorts of people they're trying to con seems like a waste. Sure, they've thrown a few parties for Jack's collections, but those could have been hosted elsewhere, surely. And buying up the remnants of Hamilton's real estate empire and using his methods to turn a profit was always the plan. But now Jack's diversifying. Running businesses and brothels and buying up blocks of warehouses to turn into flats for his employees.

Flats he's charging rent for. Flats who's rental is contingent on working for Jack in some capacity. All while he's making enough money he could just give them away.

It feels like the sort of operation Albinus was running. Getting kids young, desperate. Tying them to you with the pipe or with the money or with knowing that if you tried to run, you'd be killed by the latest kid he'd pulled up from the gutter. Knowing that sticking with Albinus was better than trying to make it on your own, unprotected. He fed you, after all. Clothed you. Put a roof over your head. And all you owed him was your undying loyalty. Your loyalty until death.

And now what's Jack running? The same damn thing.

No drugs, but the same binding shackles of debt and ownership. The same debt of providing for someone who you pulled from nothing, from the gutter, from death. Raised up into new life.

It's absolute shite. Living free, living comfortable, has taught him that. Albinus didn't free him or any of the other kids he'd taken in. He'd enslaved them.

And Jack might be a nicer master, but he's becoming a master all the same. And he doesn't know if he can stay with a man like that.

We are making progress. I say to all of you, we are making progress. Those who would consider themselves our betters are frightened, like little children, as we destroy the pillars of their society. Their bankers, their managers, their bosses who hold the whip. Who use that whip against us. To keep us down. To keep us hidden in the shadows while they stand in the light of what? Of progress.

Of money and of health and of freedom and self determination. A freedom and a wealth that is built on the backs of our work. Of our lives.

Who cleans their streets and homes? Who cooks their food? Who collects their rubbish and takes it far away so they do not have to see it or think about it?

Who ensures their lives keep turning? Us. It is us.

Our mothers and fathers, sisters, brothers, cousins, our nieces and nephews. Our sons and daughters are born into a world of shadow. A world where even the benevolent Master binds us in chains. Where even the good man refuses to see us as he goes about his day.

The whole world refuses to recognize us, the people of the shadows. Unless it is to crack the whip. Unless it is to squeeze the living blood from our bodies. To fertilize their fields with our blood and with our sweat and with our very lives, if needed. If profit demands.

And why do they ignore us so? Because they are afraid.

Afraid that if they don't pretend that we are invisible, inhuman, that we will somehow infect them with our otherness, our unworthyness. Afraid that they will slip down into the shadows themselves. Slip down to where we are. Hidden. Inhuman. The chattel that makes this city, this Empire, run.

But mostly, they are afraid of us. Of us. Because they know how many of us there are. How few of them, really, there are.

Because they know that if we were to stand as one and say NO. I will not suffer this any longer. They would lose.

They are already losing.

We are washing the streets in their blood. We are making their lives s precarious as they have always made ours. We are changing the world.

They know it. They feel it in their bones. And so they cling harder to the edifice of gold and marble they have constructed atop our shoulders. They crack the whip harder. They bleed us dry.

But we are at a tipping point. I say again, we are at the precipice. And we will move the balance of history.

I say take heart, brothers and sisters, as we rise out of the shadows and into a new world. A world of our own making.

And like anything, it is a world born in blood. But it is a world that will triumph. I say it is a world that will survive. And it is a world that we build together.

Idelle is conflicted. One of the brothel girls, an old friend from the streets, has heard whispers. Just whispers beneath whispers, really, of an investigation surrounding Jack. A Police investigation.

Some crooked bobby looking for whoever's trying for Flint's old territory.

Some Bahaman gang, which is why they think Jack's involved. All those Visas, all those seamstresses and house cleaners and suchlike. Well, they've all got families. Husbands and brothers and sons.

Who may or may not be going around beheading people.

Idelle should really tell Max. But Max has been ignoring the problem. Keeps saying her official (and illegal) informants haven't heard anything, so of course it's nothing to worry about.

But Idelle has heard.

And Augustus will believe her. Cut ties with Jack, if that's what it takes. Make it look like all the off the books consulting never took place. It is all off the books for a reason, after all.

He's a respected pillar of the community, after all. And maybe he was considering investing in – in the fashion house, yes. No conflict of interest there. Because Idelle so loved modeling for Jack that first season, and it's how they met, after all.

Yes, it's time to rewrite history. Augustus is an important man, after all. He weathered his tenuous connection to Hamilton, didn't he? He can certainly weather his connection to Jack. And Idelle will be by his side to ensure it.

[haloxsaisha]

Like To Be You.

Chapter 1: Flicker.

[Charles Leclerc x Singer!OC]

Summary: Charles Leclerc and Advika Hira seemed to have it all- their dream jobs, love and support from millions around the globe and trust worthy friends. What if life gave them a chance to go back to something that had been missing in their lives?

Warnings: mentions of anxiety and death, cringey fluff with a shit ton of cheesiness (because I'm covering the honeymoon phase please forgive me), Google translated French.

Word count: 2.2K words.

A/N: I have no clue how the Prologue is longer than this lmao, do read the prologue incase you missed it though. Nevertheless I hope y'all like the first chapter and do let me know if you want to be added to the tag list <33

Italicized font: flashbacks.

Small Italicized font in brackets: translations.

December 2023.

People bustling down in the streets below, the homely cafés, white and sparkly snow cascading down from sky which had orange, pink and blue scattered over it with the CN tower piercing through the sky. Toronto had always been one of Advika's favourite places in the world, the place always helped her relax and destress. 

The sound of the front door shutting breaks her subconscious state and she turns back to look at her Canadian best friend, who was joining her in the balcony with two paper cups in his hand.

"I got us some hot chocolate." Shawn said, handing her one of the cups and she muttered a small thank you. She'd never been used to the snow and chillness since it never snowed at most of India, especially where she lived, which was in the South of the country.

Shawn Mendes had been Advika's first friend from the music industry and was also one of the most important people in her life. She'd been signed to Island Records a year after him and he always guided her through work, since he'd got his big break even before Advika joined and knew how hard it was for a newcomer to settle into the fast moving world of music.

The curly haired duo got along well instantly, their love for acoustic music, Harry Potter, romantic clichés and their struggle with anxiety creating a trusting bond very soon. Many rumours of them dating had come up but it never changed a thing between them or made it awkward. They always had each other's backs on both professional and personal fronts- album releases and tours, award functions and galas, crushes and heartbreaks too.

Which is why as soon as Advika's tour ended, she took refuge at his Toronto condo without hesitation, needing some space from the brain clogging tour stress and her break-up with the green eyed Formula 1 driver.

“How’s the tune coming up?” he asks referring to the hour she spent, trying to make a tune for a song she'd been working on for a while.

“Like shit, it feels like my creative energy has been burnt out” she groans, staring at her guitar as if a miracle would occur and finish the song she was working on.

“You need to give yourself a break Advi, all you keep doing is making songs, releasing them and then touring all over the world non stop ever since you’ve come into the industry." he sighs, giving her a concerned look "You didn’t even stop working during the pandemic while everybody was giving themselves a break because of the lockdown. And for god's sake speak to your team about making your tour a little less congested, it's clearly making your health or your personal life worse. ”

"I couldn't help doing that. Try having to be alone in your home for months without being able to step out because the entire world is shut. It's not at all lonely Mendes." she responds sarcastically.

"You need to lighten the weight in your head, what's going on in there?" he asks as they both sit on the couch and look at the view in front of them.

"You worry too much Shawn, I'm alright" she shakes her head, giving a weak chuckle.

"Don't give me that bullshit, you're very easy to read." he gives her a pointed glare "Not to mention, all you've done ever since you came back is sleep and you still look like a train wreck."

"I'm just tired." she sighs "Both physically and mentally. The tour drained all my energy out and things with Charles really hit the rock bottom. I don't know why, but it hurts so much. Which feels so ridiculous because even though we were dating, it wasn't for too long and it didn't make much progress either because we weren't able to spend much time with each other."

"Your mom wasn't wrong you know, you do get really attached to people very soon." he tells her and she leans her head backwards on the wall, feeling exasperated.

Advika would've felt so much better right now if her parents were around. Her appa (father) wouldn't have been happy about her being in a relationship, because he was rather narrow minded, but nevertheless would've helped her reduce her overthinking whereas her amma (mother) wouldn't have minded the relationship and would've given her some relationship advice too. She cursed fate for messing life up like that, all she had was her parents and the accident took them away six years ago.

Her parents had always been supportive about her passion for music, but convincing her amma to agree for signing to Island Records definitely wasn't easy because she stated that her daughter was too naive and trusted people easily, which could cause a lot of trouble in the entertainment industry. after a lot of convincing from the head of Island Records, promising that they'd make sure they would take care of a fifteen year old Advika, her singing career took off.

Naysha, Ria and Shawn's families did treat her like their own, but nothing replaces the void that the loss of parents leaves in a person.

"Please don't tell me you both never had a heart to heart conversation atleast once." he tells her, looking bewildered.

"Of course we did. We've spoken about how exhausting travelling for our career gets but then it doesn't matter because we're lucky enough to get to do what we're doing. We've also spoken about losing important people and the healing process, he's lost people who were very close to him and I've lost my parents. Yeah, there have been heavy conversations. What I meant was that long distance relationships progress really slow and the both of us wanted more than that." Advika explained, taking a sip of the warm beverage in her hand.

"Do you think wanting to keep the relationship on the private side was a bad idea?" Advika pondered.

"Not at all." he nodded his head "Especially with the way people were taking pictures and videos of the both of you when spend the summer break together this year, it's okay that you wanted to keep it away from the public eye until it became a very stable relationship."

The media and fans adored Charles and Advika. The pair first met at Paris to work on a photoshoot for Giorgio Armani, since both of them were the brand ambassadors and a connection sparked instantly. Advika being a huge Formula 1 fan and Charles being quite fluent in music helped them bonded over both the topics and time flew very quickly in those two days, his charm and her compassion blending together effortlessly.

They had also done a few interviews together and attended fashion weeks hosted by the brand, which brought in a lot of public attention towards them. Everybody could see the spark between them.

Advika shook the thoughts away from her head. There was no point reminiscing about the past anymore, she reminded herself. What was the point of a flickering spark when they couldn't even be around each other?

Shawn was probably right, she really needed to take a break.

August 2022.

"So, what do you think of Monaco?" Charles asked Advika, who had her back leaning against the railing of his Yacht.

"It's such a beautiful place." she tells, a happy glint in her eyes "I'll be honest, I normally don't like places which are sunny but I've actually fallen in love with the places here. And I think the beaches here are definitely making me want to stay here."

"I don't think I've been more grateful for paparazzi not being allowed without a permit here, the people aren't making you uncomfortable no?" he asks, referring to how people around them were constantly taking pictures of them.

"That's alright, it's nothing new. Something that we get to experience all the time we're at a public place." she nods her head in understanding" Plus, Formula 1 is a very loved sport at Monaco, so it's understandable that you get a lot of attention here. They love you."

Always so emphatic and sweet, he thought as her words brought a smile on Charles face.

"You look really pretty today." he tells her, admiring how her dusky skin shined under the Monacan sun.

"Says you." she retorts and he gives her a playful look.

"I know you're modest but you can admit that you look good, it's totally alright." he tells her and she rolls her eyes at him.

"Was your plan to make me blush the entire time because it's actually going really great." she tells him, her cheeks getting redder.

"Your cheeks are more red than my sun burn so yes, I think my plan is going really well." he continued teasing her.

"You really need to apply your sunscreen, love." she tried, knowing that he won't listen because she'd been trying to convince him into applying it.

"It's not a big deal Vika, I'll be fine." he shrugs it off lightly and she glares at him in response.

"Alright, I'll do it but only if you ask me to do it in French." he completes with a small smirk.

"Maybe you could teach me how to."

"Pouvez-vous appliquer un peu de crème solaire, mon amour." he tells it slowly with gaps so that she could slowly repeat it after him. (Can you apply some sunscreen, love)

"Je vais le faire, chérie" he replied, wrapping his arms around her waist and placing a kiss on her forehead, noticing the usual red tint that formed on her cheeks whenever he called her "chérie". (I'll do it, darling.)

"You really know how to charm me with your cheesiness Leclerc." she tells, looking up at him.

"You can't blame me for doing that, I've missed you." he chided light heartedly.

"I missed you too, I wish my team kept a longer break in the middle." she sighed, a small frown making it's way onto her face.

"It's alright, you can do it for the next one." he said, rubbing small circles on her waist to calm her down. He noticed during their video calls that tour stressed her out and drained a lot of energy, although she'd never admit it because she loved meeting her fans and singing for them.

When they started dating, she'd been touring for two months and half a year into their relationship now, she'd been done with only three-fourths of it which Charles found really ridiculous because she had to travel every three days and then sink into lots of practice and with breaks of a week's duration coming up once in three months. He had no idea how she managed all the stress that came with a schedule like that, the last thing he wanted was for her to feel more stressed about the fact that they barely got to meet because of their very active work schedules.

"Shall we have food now, des gamins?" Pascale approached them, smiling and they nodded their heads in agreement. (kids)

"I'll help your mum with arranging everything." she told him, slightly tip toeing to place a peck on his cheek "You still haven't applied your sunscreen."

December 2023.

Charles had been a wreck of mixed emotions and he honestly had no clue about how to sort it out.

He missed Advika. He missed everything about her, even those video calls which he thought he hated. He missed the gleam in her eyes, the way her curls were a tangled mess every morning, the blush that appeared on her cheeks every time he said something cheesy and would call her "chérie", he missed the sound of her laugh which ringed even at the smallest jokes and her voice, god that was the one thing that had him holding on despite the long distance. Her voice and the smile that she always had on, no matter how shitty things were for her.

He got tired of the fact that they couldn't be around each other and instead of figuring out a way to be around each other more or at least wait until her tour ended, he just cut it off.

That was a decision worse than the ones his team made last year.

"Tu vas bien, mon fils?" the sound of his mother's voice breaks his chain of thoughts, bringing him back to the moment. (Are you alright, son?)

"Yeah I'm just thinking, nothing much really." he nodded his head at her.

"Sure, the look on your face is definitely saying it's much." she replies sarcastically "Do you want to talk about it."

"I was just thinking about everything that happened with Advika." he sighed and a look of concern appeared on her face.

"Well, do you feel guilty about breaking up with her on a day which was very important to you?"

Damn, what was it with mothers and being so blunt.

"No maman" he whined at her "I feel guilty for letting her go so soon, elle me manque déjà tellement." (I miss her so much.)

"Then talk to her about it. From what I've noticed about her, she's been the most understanding out of all the girlfriends you've had so far. I'm sure she'll at least listen about what you feel."

"She definitely will Maman" he agreed with her "But if we do decide to get together again it won't work out, especially with the way our schedules are set up."

"I think that's ridiculous. When two people really want to be with each other, no matter what comes in between they'll give their best to make sure they stay together despite all of it."

Charles could only accept those words in silence as a response, flying into deep thoughts again.

•••••

Taglist: @crueloveascities

[lxclerc]

𝐥𝐞𝐱'𝐬 𝟐𝐤 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲

hello! hi! it's all thanks to you guys i reached this milestone and i'm so happy that there's a platform i can share my work with and even happier that you all seem to like it. so in celebration, you guys can request for whatever from the prompt that you want!

the prompts will be listed below along with the drivers i'll be writing for. you guys can request as much as you want. this celebration will be open till november 18th.

requests are now CLOSE.

PROMPTS

✦ send me an f1 driver and a trope. (ex. charles leclerc + single mom)

✦ send me an f1 driver and a song and i'll write something based on the song. (ex. charles leclerc + easy for you to say by 5sos)

✦ send me an f1 driver and a random dialogue. (ex. charles leclerc + "you know you're in love with her, right?")

✦ send me an f1 driver and a scenario. (ex. charles leclerc + kissing under the rain)

✦ instagram aus! send a driver and the scenario you want and i'll make an instagram post for them. (ex. instagram au - charles leclerc + announcing your relationship)

✦ - ask me anything! anything under the sun rises, you can ask me and i'll make sure to answer it honestly. just use this emoji 🤍 so i know it's regards to my 2k celebration. (ex. 🤍 - fuck marry kill)

DRIVERS

charles leclerc

carlos sainz

daniel ricciardo

lewis hamilton

george russell

pierre gasly

lance stroll

mick schumacher

nyck de vries

oscar piastri

arthur leclerc

happy requesting!! and thank you guys so much for 2000 followers &lt;;33

[its-deputy-caleb]

How do you think the gang would be like with a s/o who’s a vampire? (especially micah, javier and charles please!!)

okayy these are super rushed and i didn't do all of them bc i want to get into the habit of not guilt tripping myself into thinking i have to do every character every time and that its okay to pick some and not all. so I didn't do everyone (but i def included everyone you asked for anon!! <33) and for anyone waiting for a fic, they're coming soon but i'm so stressed with work that i can only manage hc's atm.

side note: i know literally nothing about vampires and i'm just going off what the internet says vampires can do. enjoy <33

Dutch Van Der Linde

Despite the fact that you’re already Dutch’s favourite because of your significance as his partner, he ends up loving you even more because you’re a vampire.

Your strength means that you’re able to complete almost any job successfully and he won’t stop praising you both privately and to the rest of the gang in his speeches.

Dutch actually goes out on a few jobs with you because he knows he will be safe under you watchful eye and he never fails to smile at the sight of heavily armed gunmen quivering with fear because you’ve scared them.

Your ability to sense other peoples thought’s and feelings can sometimes be a curse but your power is super handy when you need information for jobs like finding out bank codes or when a stagecoach is coming in.

However your telepathy can leave you with headaches or can make you tired and overwhelmed so Dutch always lets you lie down on his bed in his tent.

Your head will be in his lap and he will rub slow circles on your forehead or lightly scratch your hair to help in whatever way he can so you can sleep and get some much needed rest.

Charles Smith

Charles is the supportive boyfriend through and through, so learning you’re a vampire definitely doesn’t change the way he sees you.

He will always offer for you to drink from him despite the pain it seems to bring because he loves you that much but you’re always going to worry about hurting him.

You’re always flattered to see Charles running around trying to bring you back something extra from his hunting trips because he wants to see you happy and healthy.

Your vampirism allows you to control or connect to animals and knowing how much nature means to both you and Charles you’ve never used your power to hurt any of them.

Instead you help Charles when he comes to you about the bison that have been killed mercilessly and for sport.

While Charles goes after the horrid poachers who did this, you use your powers to herd the remaining bison to a more protected area in the heartlands to see that they’re all safe.

Arthur Morgan

You and Arhtur have always been easy going and lighthearted with everything you do, so learning you’re a vampire is nothing new.

Arthur always jokes around whenever you sneak up on him because you can teleport and the fact that you’re a vampire doesn’t change much in your relationship.

Sometimes Arthur will flex his strength and throw you over his shoulder and carry you around camp but you simply teleport out of his grasp and pick him up instead.

All jokes aside Arhtur is still a gentle soul and worries about you all the time.

He will make sure there is nothing around camp that could harm you like your typical garlic, metals and religious symbols.

Arthur makes an effort to keep some areas of the camp shaded so you can sit and be with everyone on really sunny days.

His heart always skips a beat whenever he sees you hurt on jobs but he soon realises you have extremely fast healing but that doesn’t stop him worrying about you.

Javier Escuella

Javier loves you regardless of the news that you’re a vampire and he won’t hesitate to keep your secret safe if that’s what you want or he will totally boast about it and encourage you if you want to tell the gang.

The fact that you’re a vampire actually brings you two closer together.

Your senses were heightened the minute you turned and you can pick up on all the little changes that he feels.

Sometimes when you’re on a job or when there’s tension at the saloon you can sense when Javier gets edgy and you never fail to slide your hand in his and hold it.

If you’re tired from being in the sun for too long, or you got too close to reverend’s bible Javier won’t hesitate to pull you into your shared tent and lay down with you till you feel better.

He’ll cuddle up to you and do whatever you need until your strength is back, oh and there is lots of kisses.

Micah Bell

Micah probably has no idea what you’re talking about until he comes back from a job all bloodied and you see the effect it has on you. He’s never seen you look so intensely at him before, never seen you look at him with that wild look.

When he finally figures it all out that you’re a vampire he’s super cool with it and loves how badass you can be on jobs.

You’re one hundred percent stronger than him and he’s in absolute awe of how you take out enemies.

He’s super jealous of your strength and your speed, not only are you stronger than him but your speed means he has no chance at winning five finger fillet. But despite how grouchy he is, whenever you bet against him you always let him off easy and just ask for hugs and kisses instead.

If Micah ever acts up or is an asshole just bite him and put him in his place.

You totally notice him deliberately antagonising Arthur and Bill more in camp so you can bite him more often.

He won’t openly admit it but he loves when you drink from him. You warned that it would be painful but its Micah for fucks sake he’ll probably moan from it.

[juneisafantasyaddict]

I posted 1,774 times in 2021

101 posts created (6%)

1673 posts reblogged (94%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 16.6 posts.

I added 586 tags in 2021

#darklina - 124 posts

#shadow and bone - 105 posts

#alina starkov - 76 posts

#aleksander morozova - 69 posts

#the darkling - 54 posts

#darklina fic - 48 posts

#aleksander morovoza - 39 posts

#grishaverse - 31 posts

#darklina fic rec - 22 posts

#anti mal - 18 posts

Longest Tag: 110 characters

#anyway its official my favorite genre is 'books that are wildly different than what the author meant to write'

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

I still can’t believe LB described Aleksander Morozova’s backstory as a “shitty childhood” in that tik tok thing.

You know, just a regular shitty childhood where you and your immortal mother are constantly on the run, you mum told you never to let anyone touch you, your friends tried to murder you and wear your bones, people like you are hunted, kidnapped, and killed just for existing, you know a shitty childhood just like any other shitty childhood in the world.

I can’t take her seriously at this point because she clearly doesn’t even know what is in her books.

189 notes • Posted 2021-06-19 06:37:33 GMT

#4

The fact that Aleksander only ever thought of the Sun Summoner as his equal, his balance, and his eternal partner says a lot about the kind of person he is.

Because you have this all powerful immortal dark prince who is basically going to bed everyday dreaming about his forever partner and I honestly think that’s very beautiful of him. It could have been easy for him to spend centuries thinking about the Sun Summoner as a threat that needs to be gotten rid off because as far as I know, evil villains generally don’t like the idea of having anyone around who is as powerful as they are. They certainly don’t spend time constantly encouraging them to embrace their power.

Darkles and Sparkles deserve to be end game so much, and they deserve to have all the love and epic soulmate romance things they want forever, and I will never not be salty about it.

230 notes • Posted 2021-07-11 07:49:01 GMT

#3

If LB wanted The Darkling to be pure evil, there are literally a lot of things she could have done. But giving him a sympathetic backstory that is actually a legitimate reason for him to turn out the way he did was definitely not the way to do it. If she wanted pure evil, she could’ve given him a backstory that’s just a ridiculous sob story, not “for hundreds of years my people have been hunted and killed because of prejudice and no one did anything about it until I had enough power to.” Do you even realize how easy it is to get people to be on your side when what you want more than anything is for your people to be safe from harm?? That’s literally why we don’t get mad at heroes for killing people, it’s because we know they are protecting vulnerable people.

I’ve seen people say The Darkling is like Magneto (re: his fight against what was happening to mutants), and while that comes close, I think The Darkling is even more sympathetic because at least the XMen had the good sense to have Charles Xavier there to provide a more humane/viable alternative to Magneto’s solutions, and we got to see the difference between their methods. But, in the Grishaverse, we have a monarchy in Ravka that only sees the Grisha as useful for war but also doesn’t let them own property, we have a heroine who doesn’t seem to care about anything except meadows and her childhood crush, we have the entire country of Ravka that seems to only like dead Grisha because “new saint to build a cult over,” then we have the only person who seems to prioritize the protection of these people who have no one and we’re supposed to care that he’s ruthless with anyone he perceives as a threat to his people? When you haven’t given us a viable alternative to his methods? To make matters even worse, he’s not even imagining these threats, he is literally reacting to their aggression, e.g Fjerdans come for Alina, he uses the cut, Zlatan sends an assassin to infiltrate his secure building and kill Alina, but ends up killing another Grisha under his care, he kills the assassin and does Novikribirsk, etc.

This is not a justification of his ruthless methods of punishment for those who are threats to him and his people, this is a “you cannot expect me to focus entirely on his methods when he’s literally the only reason why his people have any semblance of protection” rant. The heroine who we think is going to save the day is basically dragged through her character development and all her progress is destroyed very quickly because of this ridiculous need to pretend that the underdog is always right (Mal, power is evil, blah blah blah).

Somehow, we’re supposed to just be ok with the fact that a group of people who haven’t exactly showed that they care about Grisha suffering are going to save them from prosecution? I mean, let’s not forget that this group includes: Mal who we already know is prejudiced against Grisha, Alina who *sigh* so much potential wasted there, Nikolai who I have decided exists for comic relief because I will not be convinced that a “maybe prince who is also a Jack sparrow type pirate should be king of a country with very complex social and political situations.” Like, I’m looking at this group of supposed saviors and honestly, I would rather take my chances with the 500 year old extremely powerful Grisha who scares everyone. Let’s not even forget that we’re somehow supposed to consider Baghra one of the good guys for “warning Alina,” even though 2 episodes later, we basically see that Baghra doesn’t exactly care about the survival of the Grisha.

Give people a truly evil villain and we will act accordingly. Don’t give us a Magneto type villain with legitimate points and then expect us to treat him like Voldermot or something. You can even decide to not understand Magneto because hello, we are given real alternatives to his problem solving skills right away. But with The Darkling it’s just “he’s pure evil because I said so, but like also this is how he got here, but also he’s super evil, but like do you understand where he’s coming from? but also he’s super evil even though he has points.” That’s not a villain dear, that’s a good person doing bad things and needs to be shown a better way.

You can’t give me an antagonist with a compelling, truly tragic backstory and then be like “now that you understand why and how this character ended up in this dark place and you can see that all this was probably avoidable if so and so did/didn’t happen, let’s totally blow up their life because so what if they’ve deeply suffered?” Especially when there’s a path to redemption right there in the protagonist who you have made sure to establish has a deep bond/connection with this person.

You want to write pure evil? Give me a character that has no remorse, no capacity to care for anyone or anything else, no reason for his cruelty, etc. Don’t give me guy who uses his power to keep his people safe and then falls in love with his soulmate so deeply he can’t stop looking at her and holding her hand in front of the whole country.

Also, can we like actually address the issue that got Nina kidnapped, made the Darkling who he is, and forces all Grisha to basically only have one life plan?

It would be so much easier to believe that The Darkling is a villain if there was an actual alternative to him, but there isn’t.

And btw, in this age of social justice, the fact that LB didn’t think people will see the value in a person from a marginalized community doing whatever is necessary to free his people from oppression is just LOL.

Ok, incoherent rant over.

233 notes • Posted 2021-06-06 01:26:29 GMT

#2

The level of internalized misogyny it takes to look at Mal and be like “yeah, that’s the kinda guy women should want” is insane.

Mal is like a character from a bygone era, the era of films/shows where the female character’s only purpose was to get the guy to notice her. Like, I can’t count how many films or tv shows have that shitty “girl pines endlessly for guy she’s known forever who doesn’t notice her, then she transforms into someone ‘special’ and suddenly guy who has never noticed her pining suddenly sees it and gets possessive, and they live happily ever after” 🤮 story. That’s basically Mal.

Mal as he exists in the Grishaverse is a toxic fuckboy who feels entitled to Alina because she’s suddenly special. She has been his “best friend” since they were children, yet he has ignored her feelings for ages. He has also ignored their friendship for years, and yet I’m supposed to be happy that he suddenly likes her now that she’s getting attention from the rest of the world? He even had the balls to be resentful of her powers, the fact that she was thriving without him, just like his fellow fuckboys would do, and yet LB and self righteous antis on the internet want me to root for this guy? Let’s not forget the giant red flag that is his disdain for Grisha and their powers.

If your ‘friend’ has been taking your relationship for granted for years and they suddenly start to be extra attentive/possessive/resentful when you become famous and powerful and start hanging out with other famous and powerful people, they are literally not good friends.

If the guy you’ve have been pining for forever only starts to notice you when a better guy starts to notice you, and then chooses to shame you about your relationship with the other guy, slap him. That’s literally the only option. Slap him to make sure he’s listening when you tell him to fuck off.

Anyway, Mal is shit for so many reasons, but the ultimate one for me is that he’s the kinda supreme fuckboy that wants to be the center of your universe without actually doing anything to deserve that. That’s basically what he does to Alina in TGT. He tells her she’s “just Alina” and then we the audience have to suffer through Alina the Sun Summoner spending her entire journey trying to be “just Alina.” Then she accomplishes nothing, kills her soulmate, makes her country/people (Grisha) worse, looses her powers, and fully becomes “just Alina.” 🙄

Again, I want to know what LB expected the young women she’s so concerned about to learn from this. You know, us young women she’s protecting from falling for 500 year old immortal men with sharp jawlines.

296 notes • Posted 2021-06-23 01:38:49 GMT

#1

I don’t know if this is an unpopular opinion, but I don’t actually need Aleksander Morozova to become an “good” guy because of Alina. Morally grey at best or willing to consider the consequences of his actions more, that’s the best we can get from Aleksander because:

1. He’s at least 500 years old. Try changing a regular human older person, tell me how that works out for you. I sure as hell haven’t succeeded with my 64 year old dad.

2. He doesn’t need to. Yes he got more ruthless over the years because all of his pain and suffering made him jaded AF. But he managed to maintain his love for his people, his need to protect them no matter what, the ability to be a tough but fair leader to his people, his love for Ravka, and the ability to fall in love so deeply. He may have gotten ruthless over the years, but it was a ruthless that came from being in survival mode for centuries. That’s something Alina could have controlled because she’s literally the only one that can.

3. Alina is super morally grey and does not need a pure guy as a love interest. She’s an incredibly powerful immortal, what she needs is an equal. Because she’s still growing into her power and immortality and will definitely make a mistake at some point, Alina needed a partner that was just as powerful, and honestly more experienced. Someone who understands her exact unique situation, someone who won’t shame her for changing, someone who can recognize the dark parts of her and won’t judge her for them, someone who won’t make her feel like her power is an evil thing. Someone who actually wants her to discover the full extent of her power and learn to control it. Someone who can challenge her. My Sun Queen deserved a powerful, hot, judgement free partner that would literally worship the ground she walked on, but LB said no.

Alina and Aleksander don’t actually need to completely change who they are to be together, they just need to do what we all do when we’re in relationships, figure shit out together. And I can’t think of two people more destined to be together, than these two people who perfectly compliment/complete each other.

324 notes • Posted 2021-06-23 06:43:27 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Tuesday 24 July 1838

4 ¾

9

Charles called us – fine morning – ready in ¾ hour – I had ordered breakfast (café au lait) for A- only .:. I merely took a mouthful or 2 of bread and drank a little water meaning to breakfast on the mountain chez le beau frère de Charles – thankful afterwards that A- had breakfasted odd at 6 10 all clear – the views of this valleys and mountains charming – but in about ½ hour some little clouds passing before us that we should probably come into by and by – in the skirts of them for ¼ hour or 20 minutes and no view till they began to clear off just on our reaching the Plateau de [Marborisa] at 7 33 where we found the man from Gèdre who is to be my guide to the Vignemale waiting for us – a gentleman a few years ago employed him to find the way to the top of this mountain inaccessible on this (the French) side – whether the gentleman was killed in the revolution or what has become of him, the man does not know but he paid him 125fr. on his having discovered the way in doing which the man and his companion who crossed a glacier in the ascent were very nearly lost in a crevasse – the man shewed a little mark or 2 on his hand of hurts then received – but the way he discovered is easy – no glacier to cross, and very little snow to cross – not more difficult than the ascent of Mt. Perdu – 8 hours walking from the last cabane but on Charles’ telling him I was a good walker the man said it would take 6 hours from the last cabane which cabane is 4 hours ride from Gavarnie in the vallée d’Ossonne – the descent upon Boucheron 6 hours – and 6 hours de marche from Boucheron to Penticouse – the descent upon Penticouse 6 hours – For taking us (myself and Charles) to the top of the pic the man asked 30fr. – I said I had been thinking of 20/. to which the man agreed at once I being to find his nourriture  (not much) and give him something on reaching the top, to drink my health with – agreed – (said nothing but mean to give him 5fr. piece) – the man to meet us at Gavarnie this evening and all 3 to sleep at the Cabane leaving A- to sleep at Gavarnie and meet me and Charles at Bouchero at 3pm tomorrow – all settling took about 10 minutes or more .:. it was about 7 ¾ when we were off again – had had a steepish ascent so far ‘une montée rude’ said Charles – 2 hours more of ascent before we reached the cabane at [Poyerabie] at 9 ¾ but it had been clear since leaving the Plateau de Marborisa, and sunny, and the morning delightful – en passant, had had a moments’ peep at the Chapelle de Héas – but we left the cascade de Gloriette at a little distance (left) saw nothing of it – or the pretty wooded slope down into the valley de Héas and this upper part of the valley d’Estaubé, after reading of M. Chausenques’ preferring the valley d’ Estaubé to every other valley of the Pyrenees to pass 2 or 3 weeks in disappoints me? I observed to A- that the meadows looked like English grass plots – the hay just what would come off an English grass plot after 2 or 3 weeks from the last mowing – several peasants mowing and busy in their hay – but very few granges – 2 fine large flocks of sheep on the opposite side the valley farther on – the pasturage let to strangers to people from near Tarbes – Thankful again and again that A- had breakfasted – I began to feel the want of mine – the cabane here (at [Poyerabie]) in the style of that at [Golles]  (on the ascent to Mt. Perdu) – but instead of being roofed by impending rock, all built up with stone and roofed with wooded spars and sods – about 4ft. high within, and long enough and broad enough for the five bergers to sit and churn in (shake their sheep-skin-bags with the milk in them till the butter forms) and to lie down in – perhaps 9 or 10 ft. long and 6ft. bread within § - Charles asked if I would have pâte – yes! would taste it – a little of dead dried grass gathered from the mountain side served to light the little fire of jumper roots and branches which smelt quite fragrant while burning – a largeish pan full of crème (it seemed like one butter milk) with [Q.S.] of Indian corn flour and a little salt was set to boil slowly, and in an hour the pâte was ready – a thick porridge – I should have thought they had put some grease (as in the Gollis soup) in it, if they had not assured me to the contrary – it tasted strong – but really very tolerable – A-liked it – I cautioned her not to eat much saying it was strong – Charles thought it could not hurt anybody – the bergers have no meat – but bread and milk for breakfast and supper and pâte at noon – I did not take much but more as I found afterwards than my stomach would bear – had before eaten some bread (which had luckily been put into A-‘s basket at home to fill up with) and drunk a little old milk (skimmed – petit lait) and I now ate up the bread with butter just fresh churned from the sheep-skin bag, and had also some of the shepherd s’ bread (wheat ½ rue) and made a good breakfast at 11 – having had plenty of time to look about me – the entrance

§ to the cabane about 3ft. high and 2ft. or not so much wide the little fire-place close to it in the south end of the place towards les murailles d’Estaubé

SH:7/ML/E/21/0151

opposite the little fireplace at the south end a little open hole in the north end wall perhaps about a foot square or not so much for the light let in by it and by the door hole or rather entrance hole for no door not enough to shew the countenances of the 2 bergers sitting at a. and b. churning – the middle part the hollow between the 2 bancs was covered with the capes of the bergers and so dark I could distinguish nothing even after I had sat a minute or 2 in the cabin shewing the men my clasp knife which interested them much – but the smoke affected my eyes and sent me out to A- sitting on the sunny walled up (stones and mud) banc at the south outside end of the cabane in which the present 5 bergers had lived 3 seasons – but would be away on the mont de Bergons on the 1st of next month the pacage ici being let aux étrangers from that day – Mt. Perdu from here like a little mammelon [mamelon] on the top of the Marboré – can go by the valley de Cambiel to the vale d’Aure on horseback (Charles’s beau frère, married his wifes’ sister, would be our guide with Charles) but not by the pont de Canaa could only go on foot by the Pont de Canaa – cannot see this port from here – it is at the extremity of the valley de Héas, and hid from here by the mass of mountain parting the 2 valleys (of Héas and Estaubé) could go from here on horseback by the Pont de Pinède, but could not get the horses down on the Spanish side – From the P. de Pinède, Port Vieux, and P. de la Canaa one descends upon Notre dame de Pinède (chapel) – sitting on the outside banc of the cabane, en face des murailles d’Estaubé, le cylindre forms the right end of the cirque; about 1/3 from that a brêche laisse voir la neige sur le versant Septentrionale du Mt. P- and a glacier reaching down to the bottom of the brêche § (i.e. about midway the whole height of the cirque or murailles and about the level of the Pont de Pinède) and Mt. Perdu itself does not appear from here higher than the rest of the cirque, or murailles – glittering cone of snow a mere filling up the end of the brêche – at 1/3 farther the Pont de Pinède, a brêche seeming about twice the breadth of the other brêche – and at 1/3 farther the cirque or murailles terminates in a 2 pointed (rather obtuse-pointed) conical mass of rock and another brêche seeming about ½ the depth of the other brêches, wider than the 1st and less wide than the 2nd, and this last forms the Port Vieux – the left side of this last brêche being formed by the rocky mountain (not lower than the right side 2 pointed mass) that in a long line of mountain which almost immediately from the Port Vieux becomes more or less striped with lines of green – separates our valley of Estaubé from that of the Héas -                       §Ramond escaladé (got up) this glacier steep as it is, but his trouble in vain, Mt. P- being quite inaccessible de ce côté – Spanish smugglers have come along the foot Mt. P- and have descended this glacier –

sometime before arriving at the cabane (from the plateau de Marborisa) perhaps about ½ way Charles pointed out the place near the gave where the man was shot by a Spaniard during the 1st French revolution in the evening of the same day, and with a ball in the forehead in the same place respectfully in which he the man had shot a ball into the forehead of the virgin Notre dame at Héas, in the morning! –

Delighted with our view from the cabane of the murailles (or cirque) d’Estaubé – off from the cabane at 11 50 – our views of Mt. P- now clear, now tipped or streaked with cloud, very fine – to me very interesting, as we climbed up from the cabane higher and higher over l’herbe glissante, or rough slippery rock on which my own feet were scarcely much more those of my little horse (mare) but Charles would make me ride as well as A- who said nothing but went on very quietly – for said Charles you will have plenty to do yet – it was always agreed to take Charles’ beau frère as guide from the cabane but Charles had luckily taken also another of the bergers who, as he said at 1st, had merely gone because he chose to walk a little of the way with us – but a la suite, I know not what we should have done without him – at 12 ¾ stopped 10 minutes for the 2 guides and our 2 bergers to sit down, and wet their lips – (no wonder – la montée était bien rude) – and here the Marboré just in sight – several specimens of contorted rock here – and on the side of the Piméné up to the green just under the Pic – after a desperately hard [?] of it for the horses, alighted at 1 – my horse turned loose and A-‘s and the baggage given in charge of the berger and Charles’s beau frère mounting with us to carry A-‘s basket and cloak and my light tartan ditto and the 2 guides, one on each side of A-, got her on very nicely, I following – we had walked or climbed about 10 minutes or ¼ before and were halting on a little bit of level when my horse cam frisking up to us having scrambled up somehow – the opportunity too good to be lost – A- was mounted – the bridle had been taken off to let the animal graze but the halter was round its neck – and A- literally rode to within a very short distance of the Petite Pic – for we arrived there at 1 48 and out of the 48 minutes from the time of alighting at 1 she had only walked 18 minutes a few stone rudely piled together to mark the Petit to which we had had about ¼ hour of scramble up the bare, scaly (argillo [argile] schisteuse) rock with here and there little while saxifrage and a very pretty little pink flower and pencil geranium etc. growing on the little hedges – very fine, magnificent view from the petite pic of the Marboré, the cirque de Gavarnie and all the sea snow-spotted of mountain tops around, and here we sat down -   I saw that A-‘s head would not, even if her legs would, carry her much higher; for the crête was indeed a crête a giddy narrow ridge along which I felt that my own head in its then aching state would not be trop forte – my breakfast had disagreed with me and I had had more or less of bilious head-ache for the last couple of hours – advised A-‘s not going higher and she willingly took my advice, and we left Pierre with her, and in seven minutes at 1 58 had reached the smutty – it was a glorious sight to look upon – a noble congregation of mountain tops – Vignemale and its glacier the largest in the Pyrenees – the Marboré and its cirque, and its cascade – but the pic d’Astazou hid the glacier-vallon of its source, and thus shut out 1/3 (400ft.) of its fall – Mt. Perdu shewed his head quite clear and towering Spanish mountains formed a fine background on each side the Marboré – the Pont de Bouchero seemed easy – snow lying near the top; but Charles said it did reach the road and A- would get on well tomorrow – the higher valley of Las Espessières seemed parallel with the valley of the P. de Bouchero – Charles pointed out the spot where lay the Cabane at which we were to sleep

SH:7/ML/E/21/0152

tonight, and the 2 pointed hill or lower mountain at the foot of which we were gain the Spanish side of the Vignemale evidently inaccessible from the French side – the 2 men lost 2 years, were lost near the foot of the Glacier (on their way from Cautertz [Cauterets]) – Poor Charles he seems not particularly anxious for the montée – sure we shall have plenty to do – and not sure of the weather – began to doubt what the Gèdre said about the facility of getting up – would like to consult the other man – thought we could hardly get to the cabane tonight– I merely said nous verrons – clouds were already in the distance over Tarbes and the mountains beyond Argeles [Argèles] – the fine clear on the summit had rather relived my head, so that I got down again in 7 minutes better than I had got up – not difficult climbing but so precipitous my head would scarcely carry me – Charles walked down and bade me to do the same which I did in fact he taking hold of my hand saying n’ayez pas peur – marches hardiement [hardiment] – as we stopt cautiously from ledge to ledge – but on getting back to A-, and looking up again, I felt as if I could not tell how we had managed to get up – the crête is so narrow one cannot go along it without seeing down the precipice on each side – poor A- turned her head away and could not bear to see us come down – the grand pic seems a cone with just one ridgy line 4 or 5 ft. or less broad so ledgy that one get up – the area at the top is very small indeed rather oval – perhaps 6 or 7 yards the smaller diameter and 10 or 11 the larger – if so much – the whole of the cone or pic quite bare –

on the Piméné up to the little pic

Thrift

pencil geranium

Daisies

Gentinella

centaury? or a little saxifrage?

little pink flowers the whole plant not growing on the little narrow ledges of the grand pic

Azalea procumbus Wednesday 12 September (vide 4 September)

on the [Coumélie]

lis Martagon

Iris

jumper

rhododendron ferrugineum

aconite

garance sauvage? the root good for toothache

anisette in the wood  close above the road from Gèdre to St. Sauveur  

Left the high pic at 2 25 Friday 27 July back again to A- at 2 32 she had the yolk of a hardboiled egg and we sat looking about us till 3 – the princess! de la Moscowa had been got up to the grand pic – but A-‘s head could hardly bear the petit pic – and indeed the little ridge or crête we sat upon was not more than a few feet (5 or 6ft.) board but the grand pic above the mass of mountain we had ascended below, and the 3 men standing on one side a lower ledge towards the cirque de Gavarnie (west) and on the other the precipice being rather less perpendicular, we sat comfortably – off on our way down again at 3 A- between the 2 guides and getting on very slowly, her head evidently not stronger than the occasion required – at 3 18 reached the place where A- had dismounted we had sent one of the bergers round with the horses to meet us down below on the montagne d’allanz and we had a steep, rough, shingly rocky, untracked scramble down A- getting on slowly till about 3 ¾ when after a scramble down an arête of rock (a wall) we were obliged to cross a piece of steep slippery snow which took us 10 minutes or ¼ hour A- still between her 2 guides and apparently hardly able, from fright or fatigue or both, to drag one foot after the other, or I think we should have passed this only bit of snow in 5 or 6 minutes – dragged on poor A- about ¼ hour farther to warm her feet till 4 20 and she then sat down on a piece of rock, and had a couple of little humps of sugar steeped in brandy which seemed to refresh her – we sat down again at 4 40 but here we had l’herbe glissante – my sick headache which had latterly been very bad here relived itself and as I lay down at a yard or 2 distance from A- my stomach rid itself of the pâte without anybodys’ knowing anything about it till I told A- I felt relived – it was 5 10 before we got to the horses and then a good deal of cloudiness striped (in striped) across the pic d’Astazou and towards the cirque de Gavarnie – we were only just up in time – A- mounted but got off two or 3 times afterwards and walked very well – I walked all the way back till about 10 minutes from the Inn at Gavarnie where we arrived at 7 I more tired from sickness and headache than anything else – the Inn full – but on my saying we must go to Gèdre, the people seemed determined to exert themselves – we dined as I proposed in the garret, and I proposed sleeping there but A- thought it would be close, and some country people turned out of the 4 bedded room over the kitchen and I was comfortable enough tho’ there was about a board-floor between the kitchen and us and every sound was heard – dinner about 7 ½ - A- had a veal cutlet and bread and butter and cheese – I a little weak brandy and water and then a basin of boiled milk and dry bread with a little butter – Charles came at 7 ¼ to say the Vignemale guide was come – Charles afraid of the cloudiness and advised waiting for moonlight – so did A- too late at any rate to go to the cabin tonight and without sleeping there could not possibly reach the summit of the Vignemale in time -  .:. sent word by Charles that I should probably go to the Vignemale a few days hence, 10 days or a week, sooner or later and would let the man know – considering the terms and all that to be fixed – but that if it should happen that I did not go at all, I would give the man a 5fr. piece for the trouble he had already had – this last part of the story Charles thought very handsome, and seemed pleased saying that by this means I was sure of always being attended to – came to our room at 8 ½ - very fine day

[ingek73]

Feb. 27, 2020

A Royal Instagram Mystery

Image

Credit...Photo Illustration by The New York Times; Getty Images (royals), Shutterstock (stool)

Two royal couples, two Instagram accounts, one conspiracy theory.

By Caity Weaver

Of all the tricks humankind employs to concoct the illusion of security, the most vital to the British royal family is hierarchy.

Hierarchy is what makes an elder brother more important than a younger one, a newborn more powerful than his 33-year-old uncle. A minor tweak to the laws of succession requires the consent not only of British Parliament, but of 15 other nations.

While sovereignty operates under hierarchy, it survives by public support. What happens, then, when monarchical order is pitted against social popularity?

On Instagram: a mystery.

This is a tale of two social media accounts, both alike in dignity, yet cast as star-cross’d competitors on Instagram, where we lay our scene.

@KensingtonRoyal was established in January 2015. Crucial to our saga, it was a shared account for Prince William, his wife, Catherine (formerly known as Kate Middleton), and his younger brother, Harry. (William and Harry are the only children of Prince Charles and Diana, Princess of Wales; Charles is first in line for the British throne, making Prince William second in line.)

When the younger Prince Harry became engaged to the American actress Meghan Markle in 2017, @KensingtonRoyal began functioning as a shared account for the two couples. It remained as such through Harry and Meghan’s wedding in spring 2018 (when they were formally given the titles of Duke and Duchess of Sussex), and for several months beyond.

Until April 2, 2019.

That date marked the appearance of a newer, more sprightly Instagram account called @SussexRoyal. This was a new official handle for Prince Harry and Meghan alone.

It has served ever since as their base of social media operations, and as a channel for direct communication with the world. It was where, at the start of this year, Harry and Meghan posted their surprise announcement they intended to “step back” from the British royal family. It was where, in the wake of the hectic negotiations that followed, they posted a screenshotted statement from Harry’s grandmother, Queen Elizabeth II, to show that she expressed support for their decision.

In the latest development, the couple will be required to relinquish use of the word “royal” in their branding, commercial and charitable activities, and presumably, Instagram handle; that change in status is scheduled to take effect on April 1.

But let us back up a year, to when one royal brand was cleaved into two. That’s when things got weird.

From the outset, @SussexRoyal was runaway popular. It set a Guinness world record for reaching 1 million faster than any account in Instagram history — in 5 hours and 45 minutes. (Only Jennifer Aniston has improved on that time, when she created an Instagram account later in 2019.)

Tabloid writers and royal reporters began to forecast the moment that @SussexRoyal’s follower count would overtake @KensingtonRoyal’s, thus crowning Harry and Meghan the definitive winners of an unofficial couples’ popularity contest.

It seemed inevitable; already, when it came to Google search interest, Harry and Meghan towered over William and Kate. (From November 2017 until the end of January 2020, Harry-and-Meghan-related searches accounted for 83 percent of the world’s curiosity in the two couples.)

The Instagram eclipse would happen in April or perhaps May, with the birth of the couple’s first child, royal watchers speculated.

It happened in neither, it turned out. Nor in June. Nor July.

Every day, without exception, from April 2, 2019, until Jan. 21, 2020 — through Guinness world record growth, the birth of Harry and Meghan’s baby Archie, and the seismic rupture that was their public departure from royal life — the size of Harry and Meghan’s Instagram audience failed to exceed that of William and Kate’s.

Was it coincidence that Instagram popularity appeared to align so unwaveringly with monarchical hierarchy? Or was there invisible mischief afoot?

A conspiracy was at play, conspiracy-minded corners of the Internet murmured.

A cross section of social media analysts, researchers and product developers disagreed about the degree to which the British royal family’s two most prominent Instagram accounts invite suspicion.

Some felt the growth and engagement patterns between the accounts could be explained by the unknowable workings of Instagram, which regulates the spread of content with the invisible force of a deep ocean current. Others saw in the data a possible shadow campaign, perhaps intended to inflate the appearance of one couple’s popularity over the other.

Representatives for both royal houses denied strenuously any suggestion that their social media teams had manipulated follower numbers.

Here is what we know:

April 2019, the month @SussexRoyal announced itself on Instagram, marked eight years since the first royal wedding of this generation: that of the first brother Prince William, to Kate Middleton. In those eight years, a trio of births had knocked the second son, Prince Harry, down the ladder of succession to his current spot, sixth in line to the throne. But the public’s longstanding affection for Harry (as indicated in public polls) remained. It — combined with the sparkling addition of his new romantic partner — meant that, since their engagement, Harry and Meghan, whom the younger prince met in 2016, had been channeling public energy and enthusiasm like palms on a plasma ball.

To wit, the day before Meghan first appeared on @KensingtonRoyal in November 2017, the account gained 981 followers, bringing its audience to just under 2.27 million. The day Meghan’s engagement was announced (her debut appearance on the account), it gained 104,092.

It kept gaining, steadily and in occasional frenzied bursts. Over the three-day period that consisted of Meghan and Harry’s wedding weekend in May 2018, plus the Monday morning release of their nuptial portraits, @KensingtonRoyal acquired more than 1.5 million new followers. In the period after Meghan was effectively incorporated into @KensingtonRoyal, that account’s following more than tripled in size.

For the remainder of 2018, the two couples surfaced on their single account smiling radiantly — or, on the prescribed days, staring off in solemn remembrance — in an easy rhythm. The impression was of companions casually interspersed throughout one another’s lives, locked in a perpetual couple’s staycation behind the walls of their shared palace, with participants slipping out now and then to pursue their philanthropic passions.

In 2019, however, Harry and Meghan began a process of gradual separation.

They extricated themselves from their joint “royal household” arrangement with William and Kate, moving their administrative offices out of Kensington Palace, and hiring new staff. They formed a charitable foundation separate from the one William and Harry had founded in 2009, which had been the locus of both couples’ philanthropic efforts. And, most visibly, on April 2, they introduced a stand-alone Instagram account.

Though Meghan was by no means a global star before her marriage, she had maintained an active and successful personal Instagram account, its profile buoyed by her regular role on a moderately popular American cable legal drama. That account boasted around 2 million followers before its deletion following her engagement (not far from the approximately 2.27 million followers @KensingtonRoyal had when the engagement was announced).

From its very first post, Harry and Meghan’s new Sussex account was distinct from @KensingtonRoyal — and seemed unmistakably the work of an Instagram veteran. It established a signature color palette (royal blue) and typography (a hybrid of caps-locked roman and lowercase italics). These kinds of personalized elements were absent from @KensingtonRoyal.

Over the next several months, the two accounts would diverge even further in style and tone.

According to data provided by CrowdTangle, a social media analytics tool that, like Instagram, is owned by Facebook, nine of the 10 most-liked posts ever shared by either @KensingtonRoyal or @SussexRoyal showcase some combination of Harry and Meghan (and/or their son). The single outlier is an image of William and Kate’s two eldest children taken on Princess Charlotte’s first day of school in 2019. (It came in eighth.)

Data generated by the media monitoring software Cision, which tracks online media mentions, found that, from the date of the announcement of Harry and Meghan’s engagement in November 2017 to January 2020, Harry and Meghan received vastly more global online attention than did William and Kate. (Recall, too: They crushed them in Google searches.)

(William and/or Kate did receive more online attention than Harry and/or Meghan on a handful of dates, such as: the day Kate wore a green gown to the BAFTA awards ceremony, out of step with the event’s unofficial all-black dress code to express solidarity with victims of sexual misconduct; the period immediately before and after the birth of William and Kate’s third child; and their daughter’s first day of school.)

Thus it is perhaps not surprising that, from the date of the @SussexRoyal debut until Harry and Meghan’s bombshell announcement this past January, @SussexRoyal’s Meghan-and-Harry-centric posts received more total likes than @KensingtonRoyal posts centered on Kate and William. According to CrowdTangle data, the Sussexes came out around 13.5 million likes ahead.

Of course, on Instagram, likes are only one measure of engagement. Another is comments.

Harry and Meghan won that by an even bigger margin: In the same time frame, their account received more than double the number of comments that @KensingtonRoyal did, despite @KensingtonRoyal laying claim, perpetually, to hundreds of thousands more followers.

Likes and comments are a quick way to eyeball an account’s success. Divide that combined figure by an account’s number of followers, and you can calculate an interaction rate. A high interaction rate suggests a highly engaged following, which suggests high popularity — or at least a lot of interest.

@SussexRoyal’s interaction rate was nearly twice that of @KensingtonRoyal’s. Its audience was rapt, active and, within a month and a half of the account’s creation, numbered more than 8 million users — a figure it had taken @KensingtonRoyal more than four years to amass.

With good reason, perhaps. Unlike @KensingtonRoyal, @SussexRoyal established early that it operated largely independently of the British press. While @KensingtonRoyal released coveted family images in concert with members of the media, @SussexRoyal surprised its followers with images royal reporters could not get. From time to time, it even broke news.

Yet it seemed, from the outside, that no matter how many followers @SussexRoyal gained, it could never quite catch up; rather, it appeared eternally on the cusp of doing so.

On the date @SussexRoyal was created, @KensingtonRoyal had an audience of about 7.3 million. But the older account’s prolonged dominance cannot be attributed to its head start. Accounts created later often overtake popular “partners.”

For instance, Michelle Obama surpassed her husband’s Instagram account within months of him leaving office. Kaia Gerber, 18, overtook her supermodel mother, Cindy Crawford, within months of her own runway debut.

Furthermore, follower growth for one account does not necessarily portend a comparable increase for a similar one.

Few accounts are as closely related as those of Jonathan and Drew Scott, the identical twin brothers who jointly star in their own home real estate television franchise, “The Property Brothers.”

CrowdTangle data indicates that, after years of virtually complete growth overlap, one Property Brother’s account began blazing an upward trail at the end of last year. Its associated Property Brother (Jonathan) had recently revealed he was dating the actress Zooey Deschanel.

It is a quirk of digital popularity that social media accounts with large followings can reasonably expect to lose a very small percentage of followers immediately after sharing new content. The appearance of said new content, regardless of format or platform, will inevitably lead some portion of followers to conclude they don’t care about it. It will inspire decisive action — to unfollow.

It is therefore not unusual that, when @SussexRoyal posts a photo of Prince Harry, a typically well-performing subject — on horseback at about 2:40 p.m., London time, on a Friday — it will lead to a brief exodus of followers. In this case, of something like 420 accounts in the first hour, according to timestamped data.

A successful post will quickly make up this difference as new users discover it and elect to follow the account. In this case, the horse post resulted in a net gain of about 1,200 new followers in the first five hours, plus over 420,000 likes.

It is less explicable that when, for instance, @KensingtonRoyal shares a low-resolution image of a painted portrait of the late Queen Victoria — who is neither a common nor immediately recognizable subject for the account — at 6:47 a.m. the same day, it should immediately gain over 730 followers in the first hour.

It is even less explicable that it should experience a net gain of roughly 3,500 new followers in the first five hours, especially considering it garnered only around 283,000 likes total.

That means that although the somewhat obscure portrait of Queen Victoria was apparently enchanting enough to draw droves of new followers to @KensingtonRoyal, it received far fewer likes than a photo of Harry on @SussexRoyal — a photo that, paradoxically, despite receiving hundreds of thousands more likes than Queen Victoria, enticed far fewer people to follow the account.

Curious!

Before Harry and Meghan’s account existed, @KensingtonRoyal might gain something like 1,000 followers on an average good (but not astronomically good) day. But between Jan. 1 and March 31 of last year, its following shrank by nearly 10,000 accounts.

The creation of @SussexRoyal seemed to reinvigorate it — and then some.

On May 12, the day @SussexRoyal posted a photo of Meghan’s hands holding newborn Archie’s cute tiny baby feet, the account of Archie’s aunt and uncle, @KensingtonRoyal, gained more than 42,000 followers. This despite the fact @KensingtonRoyal had posted no content, as well as the fact that the Sussex post was in honor of a holiday few in Britain were observing: U.S. Mother’s Day.

For comparison, the day @KensingtonRoyal shared its hugely popular — for it — first day of school post, which featured Charlotte and George hugging adorably in impeccably clean uniforms, it gained slightly over 40,000 followers. (@SussexRoyal, which shared no post that day, gained about 10,400.)

May 21 marked the first time @KensingtonRoyal’s growth rate began regularly outpacing @SussexRoyal’s. The differences were slight — often hundredths of one percent — but they appeared to manifest irrespective of the content posted.

On back-to-back dates when neither account posted anything, Kate and William’s account growth rate might inexplicably increase from 0.06 to 0.11 percent. Or, on a date when @SussexRoyal content received roughly 10 times the number of likes and comments as @KensingtonRoyal content, Kensington’s growth rate might still outpace it by 0.01 percent. From May 21 on, CrowdTangle data showed the accounts’ followings growing in lock step — with @KensingtonRoyal permanently ahead.

Matt Navarra, a British social media consultant, was unconvinced that either account exhibited suspicious follower activity. “I don’t think there’s anything in it,” he said — but added, “I wouldn’t put my life on it.”

Samuel Woolley, a professor at the University of Texas at Austin whose research focuses on social media political propaganda, said that while manipulation was impossible to confirm without more account information than is publicly available, the CrowdTangle data is “pretty damning if we are looking for inauthentic activity.”

Others consulted were in agreement that several scenarios could explain the follower gap:

Scenario 1

Despite @KensingtonRoyal’s prior lackluster performance and oddly low engagement rate relative to @SussexRoyal, it maintained its follower advantage with no manipulation. More real people simply elected to follow William and Kate over Harry and Meghan.

Scenario 2

@KensingtonRoyal was given better placement on Instagram’s “Who To Follow” list, a curated selection of accounts presented to new users — a variable known to drive tremendous numbers to specific accounts with virtually no effort from account owners.

Scenario 3

@KensingtonRoyal was the beneficiary of a concentrated fan-driven campaign to keep its numbers high. (No evidence of such an effort could be found.)

Scenario 4

@SussexRoyal’s initial follower takeoff was supplemented by bot followers, and its growth slowed when no new bots were bought to replace them. (This would not seem to explain Kensington’s sudden and sustained increase in popularity relative to Sussex — unless, perhaps, Kensington began acquiring followers at the same time as Sussex, and for several months after.)

Scenario 5

@KensingtonRoyal was receiving follower boosts in the form of bots.

Several researchers observed that some inauthentic activity is bound to plague any prominent social media account: Following popular users is one tactic bots use to mimic humans.

While no one consulted knew of a reliable way to keep numbers artificially low by suppressing genuine follower activity, all agreed that it’s easy to make them appear artificially high with bots. As part of a recent NATO study, researchers acquired more than 3,500 comments, 25,000 likes and 5,000 followers, all for roughly $330.

It is also possible to use bots to inflate social media accounts even if you are not the owner. Anyone can buy bots on behalf of anyone else, or send them to an account with which they have no affiliation.

But inauthentic activity is somewhat unverifiable. One of the biggest challenges of unearthing fake followers, for the layman, is that many of the tools for doing so have disappeared.

Alex Taub, a founder and the former C.E.O. of the social media analytics company SocialRank, described the current social media landscape as “like a black box.”

It stems from the spring of 2018, when TechCrunch reported that Instagram had abruptly limited the amount of user data developers outside the company could access. (Mark Zuckerberg was about to testify before Congress regarding the Cambridge Analytica scandal, in which a political consulting firm collected and sold the personal data of nonconsenting Facebook users.)

The move impaired the ability of third parties to perform widespread data analysis. In so doing, it granted all Facebook and Instagram users more privacy — including those accounts operating as bots.

“Overnight, almost all audience tools were killed,” Mr. Taub said of the Cambridge Analytica fallout. “It’s very hard to see who follows who, on the granular level, unless you manually go into the account and click on followers.”

Mr. Taub sold his analytics company in December — a development he said allows him to “talk more freely” without worry of “Facebook or Instagram taking away” access to the interface that, in its original form, enabled independent developers to collect user profile data for audience analysis en masse. (A spokesperson for Facebook said: “We revoke access for third parties when they abuse our terms of service.”)

Mr. Taub said: “If it was 2016 and you said, ‘Hey, Alex, I want to analyze the Duchess in Essex and all this whatever,’ it would take probably a day or two, and I could come back to you and show ‘These are the followers they share in common. This is the percentage of fake followers this one has. This is the breakdown of locations. This is the amount of fake followers in a location.’”

Now, the only people with access to such information work inside Instagram.

Mr. Woolley, the professor at the University of Texas at Austin, echoed Mr. Taub’s sentiments. “It’s so frustrating to not have better access to the data” of public figures, he said. “Especially in an era when social media, particularly Twitter, is the favorite mode of communication for some politicians. It’s not just Trump. It’s people like Modi in India and Bolsonaro in Brazil.”

“What it comes down to is manipulation of public opinion,” Mr. Woolley said.

Yes, but back to Kate Middleton.

Jay Owens, a social media researcher in London who evaluated the CrowdTangle data, said she was “certain to a 95 percent confidence interval” that there was no mass follower purchase on behalf of @KensingtonRoyal since April 2019 — in part because a graph of its follower counts did not feature hallmarks of bot acquisition. (Those hallmarks include large, inexplicable surges of thousands of followers, and plateaus of growth that suddenly drop off.)

Mr. Woolley was less deterred by the lack of obvious indicators of bot activity.

“Most people leveraging fake followers these days — especially at the behest of well-resourced groups or individuals — are being very careful to avoid suspicion, detection and deletion,” he said.

The new goal is not sudden popularity, but mathematical untraceability: In a sophisticated campaign, fake followers are more likely to be added more frequently, in smaller quantities.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve seen accounts gain 50,000 followers overnight,” said Mr. Woolley. “That doesn’t really happen anymore unless it’s organic.”

To him, @SussexRoyal’s initial explosive growth seemed genuine. But the fact that @KensingtonRoyal’s follower count grew by large numbers on days of popular @SussexRoyal posts — the day @SussexRoyal shared the shot of their baby son’s feet, for instance — made him suspicious of the older account.

Then there was the matter of the fans. Anna Gebremedhin, a data analyst specializing in Instagram commerce, found that, when William, Kate, Meghan and Harry shared one Instagram handle, their respective Instagram fan accounts grew in ways that largely mirrored @KensingtonRoyal. But after @SussexRoyal was created, that pattern collapsed.

“Major fan Instagram accounts for William and Kate, which previously corresponded to the popularity of their official page, did not see growth aligned with their official account,” Ms. Gebremedhin said. Followings of Meghan and Harry fan accounts rose in proportion to @SussexRoyal’s following, but @KensingtonRoyal’s numbers grew faster than William and Kate’s fan pages.

Ms. Gebremedhin called this “a deviation from historical growth.”

On Jan. 21, 2020, there was a breakthrough:@SussexRoyal, at last, surpassed @KensingtonRoyal’s follower lead — two weeks after the Sussexes’ semi-departure from the royal family.

Direct comparison of the accounts is hindered by a final peculiar fact.

@SussexRoyal is classified as an Instagram “creator account” — a free designation that grants owners (and, to a more limited extent, other users) the ability to view some account metrics.

@KensingtonRoyal, on the other hand, is designated a “personal account” — a setting a celebrity digital media strategist who was granted anonymity by The Times to protect client accounts called “bizarre.” These accounts do not have access to advanced publishing capabilities and other account management tools.

“Why would the most prominent figures in the world, basically — or among the most popular and prominent — not have that? With dedicated social media teams, it doesn’t make sense,” the strategist said.

The mystery remains; the parties of suspicion, neither condemned nor excus’d.

Of course, any bots present could have come from anywhere. They could have been purchased by someone in another country, with no connection to the royal family.

We cannot even assume that bots added to one account were intended to make that account look good, or enforce a hierarchy of any kind. Perhaps, an account was receiving bot infusions, only so that its growth would fall off a cliff if (when?) they stopped being added.

“If you really want to be in a position of power and just mess with people’s social media presence, you spend a while intentionally inflating another’s presence, and being a kind of puppet master,” said David Berkowitz, a marketing consultant for technology companies. “Then, you just start taking this stuff away.”

Over the last two months, with media glare bright upon the Sussexes, @KensingtonRoyal continued its usual drip of tasteful, anodyne photos of William and Kate.

Yet on Feb. 17, it regained its follower lead, propelling itself past @SussexRoyal. As our tale draws to a close, the accounts are neck and neck.

Correction: Feb. 28, 2020

An earlier version of this article, using information from Instagram, referred imprecisely to the data that is available to “personal” Instagram accounts. Verified “personal” accounts created before January 2020 have access to data profiles; it is not the case that all personal accounts lack access to their data.

[wasalwaysagreatpickle]

Friday 21 May 1830

5 1/2

11 20/..

Fahrenheit 62˚ at 5 3/4 a.m. – fine morning – streets dry after all the rain last night – off at 6 35/.. – (without breakfast) took fiacre on the boulevard to my apartment rue Saint Victor – Monsieur de Mèrbel’s 2nd lecture from 7 33/.. to 8 1/2 – took a little ink stand this morning (1st time and found I could very comfortably take my notes in ink – much better than pencil – lecture on the internal structure of plants as seen with the naked eye and with a loupe – breakfasted very comfortably on my brown bread and 4 sols worth of good milk at the laiterie in about 10 minutes, and home at 8 3/4 – 

At my desk at 9 – I find this French ink so bad I really must write to Miss Maclean to bring me a bottle in addition to the 2 bottles sent by Sowerby with the books – read over what I wrote yesterday to Mariana mention the talk between Lady Stuart de Rothesay and me about going to the Pyrenees in July, and had very kind letter from Lady Gordon last week, and if I go from home at all this summer and not with the Stuart de Rothesays shall probably go with her – ‘she asks if I will go to Spain next – what I shall do, of course, I cannot tell so long beforehand – But all this is quite between ourselves – I never name any of my maybes to anybody but you – I shall, I hope, see you again one of these days; and you may be quite at ease, whatever I determine on’ –

Wish her not to forget, when she has time to remember, French and the use of her pencil – mention Amici’s camera lucida – and Miss Maclean’s intention of being off from London on the 27th – then wrote a little more mention my good breakfast for 7 sols – (milk 4 sols – bread suppose 3 sols) – ‘the luxury of life is independence with a competence – I often enjoy leaving at home carriage and servants, and stealing in among the petit monde, and seeing how it is, that some can live where others would starve – In fact the carriage is at the coach makers again, for the present – Do for pity’s sake believe, that a certain portion of the ‘mammon of unrighteousness’ is absolutely necessary; and let us all do the best we can for living not starving – Let us have the option of having carriages and horses, and all that the world deems comme il faut – we can leave them at home as often as we like – I should be thankful to get you into this way of thinking – If Charles thought as I do, I should not trouble myself about your opinions; for he would take care to provide for you to the utmost of his ability – he would move heaven and earth, and leave brick and mortar forever as they are at Lawton, to leave you not induced to less than five hundreds a year after having shared with him more than as many thousands – How times are changed! I, who never cared for money till you taught me, am now to teach my teacher! well! do what you think best, - but remember that living where others would starve might be even to you less easy, and less comfortable than you may have sometimes imagined, were you obliged to try it – Do not, I beseech you, mistake me – I mean nothing which ought to annoy or disquiet you for a moment – all I ever ask myself is this – How is that she who, in early days when life, and hope, and friendship, all were young, could do so much – how is it that she should seem so careless now? Charles pays all now; and you are rich – Have you misunderstood me? tell me honestly – if you have, I never dare let another word upon the subject escape me in joke or earnest’ – 

Had written the last 1/2 page 3 and 1 1/2 end of my letter to Mariana very small and close, and so far of today at 10 3/4 – at which hour and before this Fahrenheit 70˚ - then wrote a full 1/2 sheet and 2 1/2 pp. of another 1/2 sheet to Miss Maclean exceedingly kind letter – long to see her but not impatient – beg her do what she is persuaded is best, and take her own time, and rest a day or 2 at Boulogne set her at ease about having so long prevented my asking anybody – ‘making always such exceptions, including yourself, as you perfectly well understand, I care less and less about having anybody with me – I am never at home till evening, and then my aunt, and dinner, and going to bed, are quite enough – It was from last August to October that so unsettled me – you were my physician and balm of gilead, in that case – I am well enough now, and could go on long enough in this way, if nothing occurred to rouse my memory from her slumbers – you do me the greatest kindness to come – the next greatest to leave me the power of saying I can ask no one so long as I am expecting Miss Maclean you always miscalculate your usefulness – Do set your mind at ease on this point – were it not for you, I might feel some obligation to do one or two things I escape now – Besides, if I take it into my head to wish to go from home while you are with us, I shall make no scruple…….It will amuse you to find how I consume my time, and how immeasurably little I trouble myself about anyone for whom I do not feel some interest at heart’ –

Then read over what I wrote yesterday to Miss Hobart dated Friday (today) but mentioning its being a fête day, just wrote over the sentence’ ascension day Thursday not Friday’ – ‘Have you got any more stories lately? the cuisinère of an English family that was here in the winter went the other day to Madame Galvani, to entreat her to try and get her a place – ‘Oh! mon dieu! Madame! Madame sait bien que quant ou sort d’une maison anglaise, ou a bien de la peine à en trouver – personne ne vous vent, parci qu ou a tout de suite la main rouiellée Madame Galvani Et pourquoi ça dout? mais madame [suit] bien que ces anglais ça ne fait pas comme tout le monde – ça mange des radis et du beurre aprés l’entremet!’ I hope that inimitable ça ne fait pas – ça mange – is not lost upon you – Ever affectionately yours AL’ – 

Had just done all and written so far of today at 1 1/4 – at 1 1/2 letter from Mariana (Lawton) 3pp. ends and under the seal – she and Mr Charles Lawton had a most providential escape from a thunder storm – the horses took fright and ran away – luckily ran into a hedge – narrowly missed throwing them into a horse-pond where Mariana would have been undermost, and where, if not water enough to drown them, they would have been very seriously inconvenienced – she glad I have not ordered the gowns – my explanation of the modes so clear, Watson can do all that is required –

Explains about money matters if I had only myself in view I do not hesitate to say I should think very little of the subject with regard to you I know your habits are yearly becoming more expensive therefore I should be glad to feel that I was likely to bring more to the exchequer than was sufficient to cover my own expenses of dress and maintenance and those who have hitherto benefited by any over plus in my income must of course be minus any future advantage now bearing in mind that these were the thoughts that dictated the sentence in my last which you have transcribed I am quite at a loss to guess what idea presented itself to you when you wrote immediately after it –

‘I shall not comment much upon this paragraph – it must surely be unnecessary; for you yourself on reading it over, cannot fail to be struck with much that cannot fail to have occurred to me’ – now, my darling if you wish me to know what did occur to you, you must explain, for in truth I cannot guess for in my conscience nothing ought to have occurred but a very satisfied feeling that at least I was not mercenary, and should not cost more than my own means would provide. In as much as I cannot bring myself to say more than I have already done on money matters you may perhaps think I am still unconcerned but I do not mean to say, that I would throw away any just or fair way of improving my pecuniary advantages’ – August cottage given up – Charles could not get the money without a mortgage, and would not (could not)’ give that – filled the other end of my letter in answer to Mariana saying I was satisfied – had I had her letter the 1st thing this morning, should not have written what I did some hours ago – all I meant was one could not prudentially be indifferent on the subject of money matters – 

Mariana’s argumentation not very logically deducible from the paragraph in question she writes heavily and formally and I like not her style she may well talk nowadays of not being mercenary when she will have her jointure and my fortune to come to she could be mercenary for herself when she married Charles but she cannot now be mercenary for me? the fact is I had better see her again and see how she pleases me nowadays I have my doubts [I] not she is changed? 

Sealed up the envelope containing my letter in envelope to ‘Miss Maclean 1 half sheet full and 2 1/2pp. of another 1/2 sheet unluckily not sealed, and this and 1/4 sheet letter full to Miss Hobart in envelope to ‘Miss Hobart Honourable Lady Stuart’s Whitehall’, and at 2 5/.. gave this to George for the Embassy, and gave him for the great post my letter (3pp. and long ends small and close) to ‘Mrs Lawton, Lawton Hall, Lawton, Cheshire, Angleterre’ – 

Somehow I knew of leaving the letter to Miss Maclean unsealed but unluckily did not think of it might be disagreeable if Miss Hobart saw line seven from the bottom of page last but one – 

Had just written so far of today at 2 55/.. – then till 4 3/4 reading over Mariana’s letter, and writing her 1 page and 4 lines very small and close – 

In answer to the crypt on the other side – 

A useless day this for science – I will take care to have less to explain with Mariana in future – 

Lovely day – I read last night while undressing and this morning in the fiacre [Δcɑλojos] à, my school edition nonnulli è Luciani Dialogis (London 1726), and brought the book and my Greek grammar here with me this morning – off at 5 1/4 – sauntered along the quais – home at 6 25/.. – dressed – dinner at 6 3/4 – came to my room at 8 1/2 – settled with George – said I was much annoyed at the answer he gave me yesterday – he said he was very low – very well, said I, you have been in the family almost 10 years you ought to have known me better but the next time it occurs I shall take it as a warning – now take notice if I say I will do a thing no entreaty can prevail – 

On coming home this afternoon found on my desk long rigmarole note from Monsieur Saint Romain explaining who he is, fancying from my asking on Wednesday at Daly C’s why he adopted the name of Saint Romain that he ought to give me a long explanation for fear I should think him wishing to make himself greater than he really is – nonsense – sat musing – violent thunder storm between 7 and 8 – very heavy rain and loud thunder and lightning even till now after 9 – coffee at 9 5/.. – came to my room at 10 25/.. at which hour Fahrenheit 65 1/2 – fair, but raining heavily till about 10.

[corinthbayrpg]

NAME. Leonidas Karatasos AGE & BIRTH DATE. Currently 33, reincarnated on August 11th, 1986 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male & He/Him SPECIES. Kobalos OCCUPATION. Owner of Hypnos FACE CLAIM. Scott Eastwood

BIOGRAPHY

( tw: war, death, violence, drinking, assault, homophobia, fire, madness ) When Leonidas was born in a small village on the outskirts of Thebes in ancient Greece, he never would have imagined to still be alive an eternity later. He was a lively child, with a knack for games and jokes, a huge smile on his face and a devilish glint in his eyes. He was born into a family that had partaken in the village’s belief in Dionysus for years before he was born. They praised the god of madness and ecstasy day and night and constantly celebrated him. They were known to be just as ecstatic as their god was supposed to be, leading ritualistic dances and sing songs through nights and days. While they thought they believed in the only true religion, and praised the best god there was, outside of their little world many frowned upon them. They were belittled, as well as beaten and laughed at. Other people around Thebes watched them with both worry and disgust. And despite that, Leonidas never wavered in the strong belief that had been burnt into his mind from the moment he was born. It did not matter that the rest of the world thought he was one with a group of crazy people. He would still whisper about it into the ears of those who would listen once he was old enough, ready to spread the belief to anyone who had an open ear for him. He would still take a beating, and rise from it to celebrate another feast for Dionysus.

Though even within the group of the small village, Leonidas was often the one who didn’t like to be in the middle of it all. He liked being just outside of the light, dancing in shadows, and observing some of the more extreme rituals the others partook in. While he was a fan of a life with no boundaries, he sometimes felt bad for the fact that they would plug people from their own lives as if they were no longer needed. He would have gladly stolen a loaf of bread from them, but their entire life? It did not stop him from having fun, of indulging in those aspects of the belief that especially appealed to him. For Leonidas, there was no way he would ever leave them, and so he was still in the only space he thought he belonged when Dionysus finally listened to their prayers. Being granted powers by the god they had prayed to for so long now seemed almost like a surreal dream – but who would say no to the gift of immortality?

The villagers were gifted not only that but also the ability to trick whoever they wanted and conjure illusions by looking into another pair of eyes. The man who was in his mid-twenties at the time couldn’t quite believe his luck. Finally, he had an easy time paying back those that wronged him and those he held close to his heart. He reveled in getting to trick them, in driving them mad when he thought they deserved it. In the end, his first mortal life was still ended by another human who despised the villagers, and beat him until no life was left in his body. He was reincarnated into the village that had always been his home and would be his home once again. While living there, Leonidas loved to connect to the plants around him, learning about their healing abilities and how to use them, while still using his trickster abilities to their fullest. He was hardly seen without an amused sparkle in his eyes or a laugh on his lips. He was good at spreading joy, even better at masking his feelings when he didn’t feel it for once. Back in those days, he thought life could go on like this forever and ever. But of course, it did not. It was between 339 and 338 BC that his life was turned upside down by the war against Philip II of Macedon. Leonidas did not care much about the politics behind the war, though that changed once Thebes was overrun, his family of villagers ripped apart, and most of them sold into slavery. He had a burning hatred for what had happened to the perfect life he lived, and he swore he would never turn a blind eye to politics again. Rich men with great monologues should not rule over those less fortunate.

Leonidas was bought by a young man who was rich and striving to rise up in power to impress his father and his wife-to-be. Little did he know who he had let into his home, for Leonidas hardly wasted any time in using his powers to get himself out of slavery. He used mostly his glamour, but also his silk tongue to whisper promises and stories into his owner’s ears until he no longer believed him to be a slave, but an equal. It was by his side that he managed to get a foot in the door of the regime of Alexander The Great. However, the Kobaloi didn’t make it very far in his quest to undermine the regime, as he found his fate once more by a blade cutting his neck when the man who originally bought him was attacked.

Being reincarnated into the life of a man who became a soldier before he remembered his wish to drive anyone mad who let others fight for them, he once again found himself in the middle of a war. Despite using whatever trick he had up his sleeve, Leonidas didn’t make it far while Alexander The Great was fighting his wars. He fought and fell, just another soldier who died. By the time Alexander died, Leonidas had been reincarnated once more, already irritated with the sensation. He found himself still sticking in Greece, though no longer near his home that Thebes had once been. Now he found himself as part of the Aetolian League, residing in Athens. But the young Kobaloi never actually felt an alliance with anyone. Over time, he slipped from the Aetolian League to the Achaean league, changing his home and supposed alliance to be able to drive the conquering groups mad. He managed to make his way towards those leading wars and fights, giving suggestions on their strategies, while doing the same to the other side not long after. Leonidas, who had originally intended to help out those who were less fortunate, got lost in the pleasure of fueling chaos and madness. He would whisper his way into beds of important people, create illusions to get them to do what he wanted. He enjoyed it, and every death he died throughout the years was worth it. Soldier, advisor, lover, trickster.

But there was one thing that truly messed up his plans and his will to only live for the chaos he could create: finding his soulmate. It was the last thing he had expected to ever happen to him, someone who had very much enjoyed sexual freedom up until that moment, but it took only one look at the man’s face and his heart was captured in an instant – and would never let go of this feeling for the rest of his lives. While Leonidas was gifted an immortal life and reincarnation, the one he chose to fall for lived a very different timeline. The time they got to spend together was never enough before his beloved was called into a veil Leonidas could not quite fathom with his thoughts, forced to stay away from him. Sometimes they got to spend more years together, sometimes barely any time at all. It always seemed to take an excruciatingly long time before they got to reunite, and it drove Leonidas mad. They were apart more than they were together it seemed, and that was unfair in the eyes of the furious Kobaloi. Every time they got separated over the years, he would unleash his emotions in the form of more madness. He made his way through Europe but always made his way back to Greece as if feeling its call. He slipped from court to court, from regime to regime, often masking himself as a charming young man who only had everyone else’s best interest at heart. The reality was, he thrived on making everyone else suffer when his own heart was burning. He loved ruining lives because his own seemed so very broken. When he didn’t find himself among those more fortunate, he was often reincarnated into the life of a man who was fighting yet another war, the pain in his heart overshadowed by that of the violence real life had to offer.

That was his routine for too many centuries. Die painful deaths at war, see excruciating pain, find himself in slavery – or celebrate debaucherous feasts full of ecstasy and madness while driving the rich and influential against one another, and in between that, meet the love of his life only to lose him over and over again. From extreme high to extreme lows, it shouldn’t have been surprising that he suffered. Leonidas mind sometimes didn’t differ so much from those he had driven mad with his own powers. He was angry at the world and angry at the god who had given him these powers – apparently to do nothing more but suffer and see others suffer.

The Kobaloi was the reason for quite a few monarchs going mad over the centuries. Those who loved to torture and throw great feasts often found Leonidas in their court. None of them would have said phrases like “Qu'ils mangent de la brioche” or refer to choices that were sure to make people hate them. He was one of the people King Charles VI of France listened to when enough alcohol was coursing through his system, plenty of his more bizarre moments stemming from conversations with Leonidas. He left the court of King Charles VI in 1393 after a celebration later on known as “ball of the burning men”. Leonidas had fueled the idea of the king to show up to a wedding with some of his men dressed as wildlings, covered in pitch. Four of them ended up burning to death. Leonidas couldn’t have cared less.

Two centuries later, Leonidas was also the reason why Emperor Rudolf II developed a severe case of paranoia. The Kobaloi found it delighting to tell the man that everyone wanted to overthrow and kill him – while his words partly held truth, they were also partly an illusion to make the emperor insecure. And it worked. Leonidas watched from the sidelines as Rudolf II was called unstable and unpredictable. He helped the emperor find people to fuel his love for the occult, watching with glee how he threw himself into false information about the supernatural world, while the real problem was sitting right next to him. Leonidas left the man shortly before he was overthrown by his brother, having lost interest in the man once more. His next life he spent at the court of Queen Christina of Sweden, finding joy in a woman who so clearly held no interest in what was expected of her as a Queen. He helped her dress up in men’s clothing and covered for her when she led women into her bedrooms. It was her who brought him back to Greece eventually, where he settled in Rome until he was hunted and his life ended because some of his neighbors suspected him to be a witch.

With every death, with every monarch driven mad, with every war fought, and with every separation from the love of his life, his sanity seemed to wear thinner. Not many of his deaths were caused by his lack of carelessness when it came to his sexual desires, his celebrations, or his madness. While death had lost all meaning to him over the centuries, dying still didn’t become any easier. Leonidas absolutely hated it, and once again wondered why a god would have given him this sort of gift only to suffer.

Despite his despair, he mostly stuck to Greece since the late 19th century, noticing the call of the veil in Corinth Bay. He lived in the town for some years, before moving elsewhere, feeling unsettled and bored quickly. But he had seen so much of the world already, he didn’t know what else would be able to impress him. From time to time his old love for tricking people around him would burn up with a newfound, undying passion, and it was in those moments that Leonidas would often say he could never get tired of playing games.

But during this time period, he eventually completely lost that spark. Nowadays, he would say that a soul simply is not made to survive forever, and be reborn over and over again. He had seen too much sorrow, and no matter how much he held onto the side of him that was careless and fun-loving, seeing plenty of people he liked die didn’t help either. One could say he suffered through quite a few mid-life crises, those highs, and lows of his never easy to watch. When he lost his lover to death once more, cursed to spend another 100 years without him in the early 20th century, he was simply tired of it all. With no real meaning in life anymore, it sometimes felt like a nuisance to have to go on. Days seemed grey, and any joy of tricking people was lost on him all over again. Leonidas still did it, but it seemed to be as much of a nuisance as everything else. He had lost his fire and passion for life, and a part of him wished that he could just get rid of his reincarnation.

The last time Leonidas died, it was one of his more heroic deaths. He had saved a young woman from a group of men assaulting her, and was stabbed to death on his way home when they recognized him as someone who had kissed a man in the same bar as them not too long ago. Leonidas died, and his gloomy mind stayed with him when he was reincarnated in August 1986. While an older version of himself would have been ecstatic to see the way the world changed, became more open-minded, celebrated festivals and parties, he now attended without seeing any real meaning to it. Where was the point when he had done all of it over and over again? He was missing a part of himself and missing a life that wasmeaningful.

He did not think that Dionysus would ever come into play again. He had given up on his god forever ago, when he stayed silent through too much suffering and too many prayers. Therefore, being called to Corinth Bay where he had lived several times in the past with the promise of a war between Gods, he didn’t know what to expect. He wanted to be mad at Dionysus, mad at these gods fighting each other at the hands of others. While it’s not his first time in the city, he can’t remember ever seeing it crowded by so many supernatural creatures, or with so much brewing underneath the surface. He took over a place he had owned in the past, now a cocktail bar named Hypnos. It was no big trick for him to get the lease signed over to him once more, using the place to judge people, trick them, and figure out which side he really wanted to be on. He is ready to fight – whether he has done more than enough of that in his lifetime or not.

PERSONALITY

+ playful, open-minded, loyal - vengeful, irresponsible, cynical

PLAYED BY LISA. GMT+1. She/Her.

[the-darklings]

—the space between fingers;

pairing: arthur morgan x female!reader

summary: What brings you back to life also gives you the means to destroy yourself.

word count: 5.3k+

warnings: a poor attempt at arthur’s pov RIP

notes: I would have had this out sooner tbh but you know ~life~ and ~drama~. Thank you for your insane support on my first two fics. You guys are amazing <33

tagging: the usual suspects: @ilikecheesecakeforbreakfast & @deviantramblings 

. . .

What brings you back to life also gives you the means to destroy yourself.

It’s a simple truth he has known for many years now. He has gone through phases of it—his parents, Mary, Eliza and Isaac. Fragments of his life he can neatly order into moments that are almost happy, and moments that don’t resemble anything close to happiness. 

There is good in those memories but the good always gets vastly outweighed by the memories seeping with bloodshed, bullets and dynamite. Some nights he’s surprised he manages to sleep at all. Even something as simple as sleep feels like a commodity he’s undeserving of. 

He has learned his lesson a long time ago though—was taught it time and time again—to stop caring, to not get attached, that the only thing that matters is the Gang and the job. Sometimes his thoughts bleed with Dutch’s voice and he wonders if it’s his own conviction anymore or if the only truth he knows is the one Dutch tells him. He’s his own man, always has been, but sometimes—lately—it’s been harder to tell the difference anymore. 

Blackwater has changed something in them. All of them. It’s the kind of fundamental change no one acknowledges but Arthur can see and feel it everywhere he looks. 

Some things, it seems, never change though. 

Javier’s music still has a way to gather everyone in the camp together. 

The people he considers his own are gathered in a merry circle of happiness and laughter. A bottle of whiskey is being passed around but it’s not necessary, considering the state Uncle and Pearson are already in. That, however, doesn’t stop everyone from indulging. 

Javier’s music has always been vivid, exciting and full of life; the type of music that makes you want to sing and dance on instinct. On this warm summer night, Charles has also joined in with his harmonica, creating a completely new and exciting set of melodies. 

Little Jack is a bustling ball of limbs as he leads Mary-Beth and Karen in a wild dance, much to the amusement of the two young women. Dutch is leading Molly in a more elegant but no less energetic dance that has the redhead blushing bright pink. As always, Dutch and his damn charms are irresistible.  

And there, just behind grinning Lenny and Tilly, is you. 

He hasn’t seen you smile or laugh since Blackwater. 

But your grin is warm and genuine as Hosea spins you in a circle. 

Arthur knows you are fond of the man, much like the man is fond of you. Hosea was the first to see more in you than a simple street urchin who decided to steal from Micah—much to the latter's embarrassment and irritation.

Hosea was the one to convince Dutch to take you with them, who taught you how to read and write. Much to his delight, you took to it like a duck to water too. Hosea often brought up—with a not-so-subtle stare in his and John's direction—how much he wishes his old students have been as adept as you are. You’ve become a bit of protege of his. 

Arthur sometimes finds himself wondering if it’s simply an old man’s sentimentality, or if you are genuinely two people who have found deeper kinship in one another. 

Hosea says something and your expression crumbles before delighted laugh slips out of your mouth, your head slanting back for a moment. The sound is rich and loud, slicing through the heavy, energetic beat of the music.

He feels the sound of it wash over him, and remembers once again why he hasn’t sought you out since Blackwater. Why he has been keeping his distance even more so than usual, why he’s been accepting jobs that take him out of camp for days at the time. He convinces himself it’s because they need the money—and they do—but there is also you.

You make it hard to remember why he stays away, why he avoids connections, why he focuses only on getting the job done and nothing else.

You make a lot of things hard for him.

A part of him wants to look away from you and never look your way again. Because really, he will be doing you a favour if he does. He sure as hell isn’t a nice man to be around, and despite your quick fingers and even quicker tongue, you are a good person. At the core of you is warmth and life—so bright and vivid you practically bleed with it.

That liveliness is also what makes it so hard for him to just look away. Because it’s so very easy to get addicted to gentleness and kindness. Genuine interest and care. So easy to look forward to those things and start to treasure them.

Kindness, he finds out after meeting you, can be a very dangerous thing indeed.

He feels the sting of tobacco on his tongue but doesn’t look away from you, despite the hard voice deep inside him telling him that he should. He isn’t much of a man for festivities, although a free drink is always welcomed. He’s happy to watch over others though, watch the tension and the doubts melt away from their shoulders. That mountain was hard on everyone, and Arthur wonders if things will go back to how they were used to be any time soon. 

Dutch shouts something and everyone else cheers in reply, Javier promptly changing the tune to match the uplifted mood. 

“Pretty little morsel, ain’t she, cowpoke? Won’t mind a little tussle in the hay with the likes of her.”

Smoke escapes his lips and Arthur grits his teeth for a second, throwing his cigarette to the ground and stomping on it. He digs his boot into the dirt, imagining it's the head of the man who decided to bother him. 

"Now I don't know if yer brave or just stupid," he begins almost jovially as he glances at Micah from under the brim of his hat. "Because unless you fancy losin’ all of your teeth I would keep your mouth shut. Think before you speak."

A snake. That's the only way he can describe Micah—the only way he can ever describe the man that feels right. He slinks around the camp, leering and watching, muttering in Dutch's ear far too often for Arthur's taste. But Dutch is a stubborn fool, and whatever he wants to do, he will. When an idea enters his mind, not much can change it. He admired that, once. Now that stubbornness is starting to become a burden, is starting to make him near unreasonable to deal with.  

But that doesn’t wipe out twenty years of loyalty. Twenty years of bleeding, fighting and running together. And Micah should know better than to slither his way in and hope he will ever be able to match up to what he, Dutch and Hosea have gone through together. 

"Now, I don't mean no harm, Arthur," the man replies easily but there is a sliver of greed, of lust, when his eyes flicker in your direction once more, and Arthur feels something in his gut burn. "We all know you have yer eye on that one. It just surprisin', that's all. The great Arthur Morgan brought down to our level by a pretty face."

Arthur’s lips curl upwards as he glances down, his fingers latching onto his belt buckle as he chuckles under his breath. The sound clearly confuses the blonde man in front of him because after a tense moment he joins in unsurely, the sound more anxious and wheezy than he probably would have liked.

When he looks up at Micah, there is a tense sort of air around him, and it’s obvious where his confusion stems from. Arthur rarely engages him, and if he does, it’s seldom with a kind tone, much less a smile.

He takes his time in approaching the man, the half-grin still lingering on his lips as he looks up at him. There is a very particular kind of joy to be found in the way Micah flinches when Arthur lays his hand heavily on the blonde’s shoulder, squeezing tightly.

“I’ve been runnin’ with Dutch for odd twenty years now,” he says conversationally, patting Micah’s shoulder heavily. “And you wanna know what’s the one thing that always happens?”

Micah remains tense and silent, a disgruntled sort of scowl twisting his expression and Arthur grins wider, fingers sinking deeper into his shoulder for a moment, “When it comes down to it, every man eventually shows what he’s really made of. I’ve seen it time and time again. Those who think they can trick and weasel their way outta of things...well those poor fellows don’t do so well with us. And they sure as hell don’t last long either. So a little respect towards your fellow gang members might do ya some good in the long run. Now you think on that, hm?”   

Micah’s expression grows taunt, and his scowl only deepens with every word, but he keeps quiet and Arthur is grateful for it because he’s not in the mood to hear the snake run his mouth again.

After another stretch of strained silence, Micah finally opens his mouth to say something but he never gets to finish.

“Well, well, ain’t this a blessed sight,” Dutch’s voice slices through the night, and Arthur glances to his right to see the older man approaching them with a deceivingly calm expression. “My two best men in one place. Glad to see you two gettin’ on for once,” he adds with an underlying bite in his voice that doesn’t go unnoticed by Arthur.

A slice of anger rips through him at the comparison, but he only dips his chin to not let it show. Whatever opinions he has of Micah are for Dutch’s ears alone, and he sure as hell isn’t going to give the snake the satisfaction of knowing that his presence often causes friction between them. There's no love lost between him and Micah, that much is true, and the whole camp is more than aware of it even if they don’t voice it. He’s glad that he’s not the only one who feels like something is wrong with the blonde though, even if most excuse it due to his impressive skills with a gun.

And no matter how much Arthur wishes he could say otherwise, he has to agree with others. Despite his less than savoury attitude, Micah is a good gun to have in a fight.

“Oh, nothin’ much, Dutch,” he replies, patting Micah on the shoulder a few more times before letting go. He notices how Dutch’s eyes track the misleadingly harsh motion as he turns to face the older man. “Micah and I was just discussin’ the values of respect.”

“That so?” Dutch drawls slowly, eyes fixing on Micah, “Good discussion?”

Micah shoots a harsh glare his way, and Arthur feels his fingers clench around his belt buckle. It will not do him any good to start throwing punches now, no matter how much he wants to.

“It wasn’t anythin’, boss,” Micah bits out, his voice laced with irritation as he rotates his shoulder as if aggrieved. “See ya in the mornin’.”

Dutch does not stop him and Micah walks away without a backwards glance, though the silence he leaves behind is something Arthur would much rather not deal with right now. Dutch pulls out a cigar, still looking in the direction Micah has disappeared in.

“Must you always do this?” he asks at last, his voice pitched low and Arthur can feel his anger spike at the near disappointed edge in Dutch’s voice.

“Oh, I’m sorry, next time I’ll be sure to go and sing him a nice lullaby, Dutch,” he snaps back, motioning in the direction Micah has walked off in. “I’m not startin’ a damn thing and you know it.”

Dutch’s eyebrows rise and he nods his head slightly, a thoughtful hum thrumming at the back of his throat, “I see. And what about how you treat him?”

“How I treat him? And how exactly do I treat him, Dutch?”

His gaze is dark when he answers, “Like he ain’t one of us.”

Arthur scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief, “That’s probably ‘cause he ain’t,” he replies, words heavy with frustration. “Loyalty. Respect. We might be a bunch of crooks but I always thought that was at the core of our people. He has none of those things. Bell is the last man on this godforsaken patch of dirt that I would trust to ‘ave my back.”

“Enough, Arthur,” Dutch cut off sharply, taking a forceful drag of his cigar before he addresses him once more. “Micah has proven himself to be a fine fellow and valuable addition to our ranks, so I will hear no more of this, is that clear? It’s been a long day, son. You oughta get some rest. Wherever this animosity between you two comes from, I want it dealt with as soon as possible. We can’t be fightin’ amongst ourselves.”

“Yeah,” Arthur intones quietly in reply, bitterness welling in his chest. Besides Hosea, Dutch is the smartest man he knows, and yet when it comes to Micah, he refuses to budge. “Yeah, whatever you say, Dutch.”

He grits his teeth and turns to leave but a hand on his shoulder stops him, and he glances sideways towards the man who looks at him calmly but flatly.

“Son, you must understand,” Dutch begins softly, “I can’t have pointless fightin’ in the camp. I need ya with me, Arthur. I know I’m askin’ much but can you at least try?”

Once, it would have been so easy to turn a blind eye to it all, to simply trust Dutch’s judgement and let him handle everything. Now, Arthur is no longer sure what to make of any of this. Perhaps Blackwater shook his own faith more than he cares to admit.

“Sure thing,” he says at last, still torn, still unsure what the hell has happened to them. Who is responsible for this tension between them. “I’m always with ya, Dutch. But you better have a word with that fool because next time he runs his mouth, it will not end so well for him.”

He pulls back, stricken with the realisation that he can’t stand the thought of lingering here, that for some reason Dutch’s request feels almost like a stab of betrayal. Something in his gut twists at the thought and he tries to push it back as swiftly as he can. Dutch asking him to try and get on with Micah doesn’t mean he’s choosing favourites. They’re not kids for crying out loud. And yet—

His feet start carrying away before he even realises fully what he’s doing. But he doesn’t feel bad about leaving Dutch with those words because he means them and he needs to think, he needs—

“Arthur?”

He freezes.

It takes few blinks to slip out of his daze as he looks over his shoulder to see you standing there, your lips parted and a worried frown twisting the planes of your face. He hasn’t realized he’s stormed past the campfire till that exact moment, the lack of music leaving a near tranquil quiet in its place. Most of the camp has cleared out already, leaving only passed out Uncle and Sean by the fire. Hosea sits beside them, smoking his pipe as he gazes thoughtfully into the flames. You both stand just far enough to be covered by shadows but close enough to still see the glow of embers in the distance.  

“Arthur?” you repeat softly, more worried this time as you take a step closer towards him.

You rarely speak his name. Usually, it’s ‘Mr. Morgan’ or some other version of identification that did not require his name. It’s only during rarest, most private moments that you forget yourself enough to use his first name. It warms something in his chest when you do; the worry and concern you so clearly feel towards him, even more so. It’s just another reminder that he has no business involving you in any of this though. It’s true you confide in him but he’s unsure if, just this once, he can return the favour.

“You ought to get some rest Miss (Name). Tomorrow—”

“Are you alright?” your question is brimming with genuine concern as you approach him, and it stops whatever words he’s about to say. “You look...upset.”

He wants to dismiss it but there is something disarming about the look on your face as you gaze up at him.

“It’s nothin’, don’t you worry…” he trails off before something catches his eye, and for a brief moment he forgets Dutch, forgets Micah and focuses only on you, his lips twitching upwards slightly. “Your Highness.”

He bows his head briefly, and his grin widens at your confused frown. There is a moment of suspended silence before your expression clears and you laugh, your hand flying to the top of your head where a freshly woven flower crown sits. Your expression is one of pure delight and he almost sighs at the feeling of lightness that blooms in his chest with it.

“Oh! Um—little Jack made it for me this morning,” you tell him with an affectionate grin, and he turns to face you fully as you come to stop right in front of him. “It was awfully nice of him, and he didn’t ‘ave to but he still—sorry, you’re probably busy! I don’t mean to waste your time Mr Morgan, just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

He watches you from under the brim of his hat, tracking the nervous twist of your fingers and wonders if you realise how endearing this nervous habit of yours has become. Except he shouldn't really care, certainly shouldn't notice it. And most certainly not feel better with you near. Like it’s easier to see things clearly, like your mere presence is enough to calm the simmering anger burning away in him.

But the thought of Dutch and Micah brings back the bitter sting and he feels his small smile wilt. He trusts Dutch, he does but—

“Mr Morgan?” your voice sounds again, and suddenly you’re close enough to touch, to smell, to feel the subtle heat coming from your body. He tells himself that the shiver that races down his spine is from the night chill and not your closeness. “Are you sure you’re fine? I’ve been tryin’ to ask you somethin’ but...I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t wanna,” you trail off, but he notices the sad break in your voice, and there is a part of him that tells him that he’s better off not knowing.

But.

“Apologies, Miss (Name), my head is all over the place today,” he says carefully, noting the way your eyes flicker back to rest on him. He knows that due to the dark and the angle his head is slanted in, you can’t really tell he’s looking right at you. “What was you sayin’?”

“Would you care for a dance, Mr Morgan?”

“Excuse me?”

From everything—anything—he might have expected to hear from you, that most certainly hasn’t been it. For a moment he’s uprooted and unsure because that cold, logical part of him is already rebelling, spitting how not only will this be improper but it will also be dangerous.

You are dangerous.

With your easy smiles, gentle yet understanding eyes and a sense of humour that would make most nuns blush with shame.

He’s been a fool for a woman’s love once.

A love that he has never managed to live up to, never managed to make his own. With Mary it’s always been a race to change himself, to shift his very being into something that will suit her and her high society life.

With Mary, it has always been take, take, take.

With you…

He hasn’t even notice when or how you managed to crawl your way behind the walls he kept so tightly around himself. Not only because he’s undeserving of such happiness but also because after Eliza and Isaac—

His heart—whatever little he ever did have of it—has been destroyed too many time to let another in. To risk the pain and agony of another loss.

But you stand there, looking up at him hopefully, shyly, and he feels so goddamn helpless at the sight of your unguarded expression.

With Mary, it has always been take, take, take.

With you, it has always been give, give, give.

Undoubtedly ironic, considering that from you two, Mary is the elite lady and you are nothing more than another runaway with little to no money to your name.

“There’s—er—no music Miss (Name),” he says finally, his throat dry because this is not the turn he ever expected his night to take. “It’s kinda hard to dance without it, ain’t it? Besides, I ain’t much of a dancer.”

A slight smile curls your lips, and he wonders why for a moment you look so relieved.

“Why Mr Morgan, there’s always music,” you tell him seriously and he feels his eyebrows rise, head tilting so you can see his dubious expression. “You just gotta know how to listen.”

You raise your hand to him, palm outstretched as you wiggle your fingers a little, “May I have this dance?”

Tell her no. Push her away now to spare her the pain later.

He wants to push you away—he really does—but as if in a daze, he cautiously takes your hand in his. Your fingers are so much smaller than his. He hasn’t realised until this moment just how small when in comparison to his. He feels you move them till your hands rest securely against each other, and he allows himself the foolishly indulgent moment of feeling the simple warmth of your skin.

It feels much nicer than he would care to admit.

“Now, just listen.”

His eyebrows knit together in confusion and he glances around, “To what?”

You chuckle under your breath, the sound warm and breathless as you look up at him and he wishes you haven’t. Suddenly he’s painfully aware of your hand in his, of your closeness, of his other hand resting on the curve of your back.

“—relax and listen to everythin’ around you, of course,” you tell him, almost teasingly, and he blinks, realising too late that he is so focused on your nearness he failed to hear you. “Nature is the best provider of natural music. Mr Morgan—Arthur—just relax.”

He clears his throat uncomfortably, and shifts on his feet, “Like I was sayin’ not much of a dancer, that’s all.”

Your head tilts and after a moment of silence, you start humming under your breath, drawing his straying gaze back to you. It’s hard to look at you. It’s still even harder to look away. His fingers itch with a sudden urge to pull out his journal and sketch the visage of you. He wants to remember this moment; the slopes of your face, the curve of your lips and the ghost of a smile on your mouth as your eyes remain shut. You look peaceful. So peaceful, he feels like he’s intruding on the moment even though he’s in the moment with you.

It’s then that he realises that your hums are matching the sound of crickets and owls, of a whisper of leaves caught in the wind, of nature itself. You’re swaying side to side unhurriedly, clearly lost in the moment and Arthur feels his breath seize in his lungs.

Is this his punishment then?

To be given a chance to meet someone as wonderful, as fiercely alive as you, and know he has no right to your heart. Because what could he possibly give you? You deserve someone better than him. Not an old, ugly, bitter outlaw with a bounty on his head, and a past soaked in the blood of the innocent.

You deserve some handsome city dweller who can buy you a pretty house with a picket fence and a dog. Someone who can give you kids who will adore you, and a garden where you can grow flowers when you grow old.  

The pang of longing that cuts through his chest is sharp, near acidic, and his grip on you tightens just slightly. Your eyes flutter open and you blink up at him, lips curving down.

“Mr Morgan?”

Your voice is a mere breath that fills the space between you, and suddenly a thousand different things burn at the back of his throat. He wants to say so much and yet—

What can he possibly say? What words can possibly do this—do you—justice? What can he say to you that will not make him appear like a complete, smitten fool? Can he really look you in the eye and tell you how he thinks you’re lovely and kind, and better than anything he could ever deserve? How he could spend the rest of his life doing nothing but good and still be unworthy of you.

“Don’t you worry yourself, ya hear?” he answers with forced calmness, and reads your doubt in the subtle narrowing of your eyes. “Just an old man reminiscing, this is quite the relaxin’ end to my night, believe it or not.”

You’re silent for a long moment, the two of you still swaying side to side leisurely as you continue peering at him.

He’s always liked that about you too. That no matter what people tell you about him, what you hear or see, you always look directly at him. Like you can see him, like he’s real and doesn’t need to hide away or pretend. No fear, no resentment; not even after your less than friendly first meeting.

Something about the knowing, gentle scrutiny of your gaze makes him feel alive.

“I know...I mean, I understand that you don’t owe me nothin’ Mr Morgan but…” your breath catches, eyes slipping away for a moment and he wonders what, exactly, is the source of your internal struggle. You swallow audibly before looking back up at him. “I know you may not trust me but—”

“I do,” he utters before he can stop himself, and he can feel danger crowd him. Having you so near is clearly clouding his sense of reason, and he doesn't want to dig his grave any deeper than it already is. Your expression is frozen with shock, lips slightly parted in disbelief and this time it’s his turn to swallow heavily. “I do trust you,” he adds, ignoring the unfamiliar taste of those words in his mouth.

How many people have ever warranted his complete trust? He can count them on one hand.

Trust is not a currency he deals out freely or often.

“Oh,” you breathe, your eyes wide and he feels the tremble of your fingers in his hand. “I—oh. I’m glad.”

And damn it all. Damn that beautiful, soft smile that lifts your lips into a sight that etches itself into his mind, right into his heart too. Damn it all to hell.     

This whole thing is becoming a goddamn mess. He knows he shouldn't have done this, knows that this level closeness to you was going to affect him. There is a reason he always opts to stay away. It’s better this way. For both of you.

But this—you—

He lets his hand drop from your back before taking a small step back, and lifting your other hand above your head. You let out another chuckle, seemingly even happier than earlier and it feels worryingly nice to know he’s the source of that joy.

You turn slowly as if savouring the moment, and for one, irrational second he doesn’t want to let you go at all. He wants to stay suspended in this moment of peace, cocooned by your warmth and shadows of the night, with nothing but a song of nature for company.

But all things come to an end, including your spin. Your fingers are still interlaced when you come to a stop right in front of him, grinning down towards the ground. You glance up, moonlight dully illuminating the flower crown sitting on your head.

There is a lull of silence, your fingers still entwined together, and the beat of his heart is the only thing he can focus on at that moment.

He’s about to pull away reluctantly but before he can, you move first by letting go of his hand. You step closer and he feels himself still when you duck your head down to not disturb his hat. The feeling of your soft lips against his cheek is the last thing he expects. It’s brief; nothing more than a fluttering brush of softness and warmth against his ragged skin, but everything about that moment—about the heat of your lips, the smell of your skin mixed with flowers, and the gentleness of your movement—gets committed to memory.

All things end, and you pull back so quickly, he knows the moment only lasted a few seconds. His skin burns, he burns with it, and his fingers clench into fists in an effort to keep himself...calm. He needs to control himself before he does something he will regret later. Like kiss you.

“Thank you, Mr Morgan, for the dance.”

He says nothing but that has never deterred you before—if anything, you understand better than most his need for quiet, and have always been respectful of it.

He finally nods his head, realises that he already misses the heat of your palm in his but refuses to voice his thoughts.

“I’ll oughta let you rest now, I’ve already held you up enough,” you note quietly, that faint smile still lingering in the corners of your mouth. “Goodnight, Mr Morgan.”  

With another nod, you turn to go but he reaches out first, his fingertips brushing against your hand and you stop dead in your tracks. He pulls back like your skin has burned him, and it might as well has. He feels the heat of you sink into the very marrow of him, and it makes him grit his teeth briefly.

“Do me a favour, will ya?” he begins, his tone raspy and he forcefully clears his throat before continuing, “If Micah Bell ever so much as looks in your direction, you go straight to Hosea or Charles, alright? Or...me. Whichever you prefer.”

Your shoulders curve slightly and you look positively troubled. “Is there somethin’ wrong?”

He shakes his head sharply because the last thing he wants is to worry you with this. But the memory of the leering look Micah shot you earlier lingers in Arthur’s memory, and he finds that he can’t quite let it go.

“Nah, still, you never know,” he retorts calmly but you don’t look convinced, so he adds, “Don’t forget your shootin’ lessons tomorrow. Better get some rest, or I will be frightened for my own life come next sunrise.”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head but the mock irritated look on your face is brimming with tender affection that feels like a kick right in his heart.

“Goodnight, Arthur,” you call with a slight laugh, waving over your shoulder. “See ya tomorrow!”

He watches you walk away and every step feels painful, leaves him feeling bruised and raw even though it shouldn't.

Let her go you fool, let her go. Let her be happy.

He wants to. He really does. He wants to look away and do you that favour in return.

But he hears the thud of his own heart, feels the electrified buzz of his blood rushing through his veins, and finds that he can’t.    

What brings you back to life also gives you the means to destroy yourself.       

And perhaps you’re the kind of destruction he doesn’t mind.

. . .

an: Mr Morgan is fascinating to write. I truly hope I did him some justice with this fic. He feels things so deeply (based on his actions and journal entries) but rarely, if ever, voices his inner feelings. It’s interesting to try and realistically look at how he might handle having feelings for someone, but still being plagued by his self-hatred, doubt and overall insecurities. 

This fic is very much a test run for something much larger and elaborate I have cooking in my head. So any feedback on how I handled his character (and others) and how I can improve would be greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading guys <33

[thefallons]

Origins --> Scotia&Charlie

Discord Transcript Timeline Points:

- Charlie finds out Scotia has a son (Charlie is 33, Scotia is 34, Jensen is 2) - Charlie confides in Dex about how to proceed - Charlie breaks up with Scotia, believing he doesn’t fit into his life - Dex confronts Charlie about how miserable he’s been - Charlie tries to win Scotia back, but first, be honest with him about wizardry - Scotia and Charlie agree to spend the night together, but in Scotia’s home - Charlie meets Jensen for the first time

It's been 10 months since they started seeing each other, Charlie is a regular at Scotia's bar and then one day Scotia’s babysitter doesn't show up. Scotia brings a two-year-old Jensen to the bar with him because his boss truly does not give a fuck. As long as the place isn't on fire the owner hardly cares and the staff basically runs it. But Scotia puts Jensen high chair at the end of the bar and lets him color some pictures. And then Charlie walks in and Scotia's heart skips a beat, his ears go red.

SCOTIA:

Scotia says nothing until Charlie notices the child and brings it up and even then, he hesitantly says, "That's uh...my son. Jensen. He- his babysitter had something come up so...he's with me today." Looking at Charlie like ...this is a bombshell...I know...think about it while I get you wine to process better. Jensen is just at the end of the bar, scribbling with some crayons, a sippy cup nearby. He's a child who isn't even fully aware he's in a bar because dad's in a rough spot.

CHARLIE: Charlie would be so confused. He would drink a glass or two, way faster than normal, and keeps throwing glances from Scotia to the boy. He thinks to himself, "Of course he has a son, he could even have a wife or a husband, who knows! You don't know him, what you have with him is just for fun, right? It's not like they're in a serious relationship so yeah, it shouldn't matter if he has one or ten kids hiding behind the bar, right. Right? So this is just an affair, I hope he isn't cheating anyone, though because I do not want to get involved with drama.”

SCOTIA: Scotia definitely notices that Charlie downs his drinks way too fast and as soon as Scotia can get away from his customers for a minute he comes up by Charlie with a third glass of wine for him. But Scotia takes a big sip of the wine before setting it down in front of Charlie and asking him, "Are you freaking out a bit?"

Charlie: Charlie literally just gives him a wide-eyed look because it's better than saying "YA THINK??"

SCOTIA: He's trying to keep his own cool and smile a little bit on the inside, he's like this is it this was good while it lasted.

"I-" he licks his lips when he sees the look like ok that was a dumb question, "There didn't seem like an appropriate time to go hey, by the way, I gotta run, I only have the babysitter till midnight. Would it have made it any better if I told you earlier?"

CHARLIE: "Yeah... That would've. Been... huh. For once I have no words."

Charlie gets up and grabs his jacket, trying very hard to remain cool and looking at the kid and then Scotia. "Listen– I think I need some time to-" gestures towards his head and sighs. "We can talk about this some other day?" he offers while asking himself the same, was that a good idea?

“For what it’s worth, he seems like a nice kid." And then he leaves.

SCOTIA: Scotia's face gets a little red at how Charlie is shutting down. He's literally already so stressed out, is at work, and now his object of feelings is making THAT face. He runs a hand through his hair and goes, "This doesn't change anything between us. You don't /have/ to go."

Charlie blasts through Dex's door and pacing from one corner to the other, trying to think about what just happened. Charlie had previously downplayed how involved he was with Scotia, only mentioning that he'd met this guy at a Muggle bar and that was where he vanished to some days of the week. And how Scotia was able to keep Charlie's attention because they both know how impersonal Charlie can be with some of his hookups, but no, this guy was actually interesting.

CHARLIE: "He has a kid, Dex." and just that throwing his arms up

DEX: Dex is wide-eyed. It takes him time to put 2 and 2 together that Charlie is talking about his hook up cause he's not sure why Charlie is so worked up about it. "O...kay? What's he, trying to get you to pay child support? Oh. Oh is he fucking married, Charlie, are you back to your homewrecking ways?"

CHARLIE: Charlie just being like this and he has to laugh, of course even when he isn't trying to do anything stupid, he still does it. "Dunno, Dex. All I know is that I walked into the bar and his son was there because the babysitter left."

"I wonder if that didn't happen, would I even find out? Who knows. Guess it really was supposed to be just a fling."

DEX: Dex's brows are still raised bc he can't believe. "Uh...what did he have to say about it?"

And then sits up suddenly and is like, "Wait, was this not a fling? Is this- did we shift gears somewhere there, Charles, do you have something to tell me?"

CHARLIE: Charlie stares at his friend for a full minute because hello can you please join my meltdown? Screw you, Dex. "Maybe. But I don't think there's any future for that now, so forget it."

DEX: "Wait, wait, wait, wait- back up. Did you want to know sooner? Did you want him to like you enough to tell you sooner?" Dex looks surprised as hell because does his friend have feelings? Charlie never has feelings this is absurd and he's not going to let it go, Charlie can hit him if he wants to. "Charlie, I am clutching my chest, I cannot believe you."

CHARLIE: "Yeah well. I can't believe some of the information I've been given tonight either so."

DEX: "What the hell's the story? What's his deal, why didn't he tell you about the kid??"

CHARLIE: "I know it's hard for you but shut up Dex. It doesn't matter anymore, okay? So pour me a drink. I've been vulnerable enough for one evening. Time to get hammered"

DEX: Dex sighs and lets it go for now. He pours Charlie a stiff drink and then pours himself one and lets loose, fully intending to circle back to this once they're plastered.

Meanwhile, Scotia types out about 7 different versions of a text to Charlie over the course of several hours but deletes all of them. It's probably late at night and Charlie is probably super drunk when his phone goes off and it's a text that just says, "Can we talk?" And Dex certainly snoops over his shoulder.H e's not subtle about the snooping, he never is, he and Charlie have so few boundaries.

CHARLIE: Charlie and Dex lie on Dex's bed but Dex is facing one way and Charlie is another. They're both drunk and Charlie feels tired, he needs the rest but he's still kinda upset. Then he sees the text Scotia sends him and oh. He lets the phone drop on his chest and finally says, "I like him. I think I have for a while but. I don't know. We don't really know each other, we fuck at a hotel and sometimes we have breakfast together before he has to go."

"And it was easy and fun, I wasn't paying attention to how long has it since we started or even how he kinda became part of my routine but today... Going to the bar and he seemed scared when I asked him about the little boy. I don't think he wanted to tell me."

"I don't think he wants more than what we have right now. And I respect that, I actually wished I felt the same, but still. Realizing there's a possibility that he actually has a whole family out there and I'm the dirty little secret– That's not. I don't want to get involved in that..."

"I've had enough of romantic drama for the rest of my life. I should break this off before it gets more complicated."

DEX: Dex is quiet for a few beats even after Charlie finishes speaking. He blinks a few times because his heart literally hurts for his friend, he'd go to the ends of the earth for Charlie and this is him in rare form. "Do you think he's this sad too?" He whispers finally. "Like right now, in this moment?"

CHARLIE: Charlie shrugs and says "Can't say, I don't think I know him as well as I thought. Perhaps he's just embarrassed to be caught in that situation where his lover and his son are in the same room."

DEX: Dex finally shifts to he can turn to his side and lean on his elbow and actually look at Charlie. "You don't want to know for sure? You'd just be content accepting your place as the dirty little secret forever? What if he has some kind of crazy story to explain and you just never know about it? Would you really just be okay drifting into the night forever and never finding out?"

CHARLIE: Charlie mirrors the movement to look at his friend, "Crazy story? That's what you're trying to convince me? I don't think I'm betting on that and even if it turns out to be true, it's better if I leave him alone. Could you imagine me being a stepdad? Because I can't."

DEX: Dex definitely talks about it with Charlie for a little while longer and tries to convince him to at least get closure for the sake of his own sanity. Tells him to not ghost Scotia solely to put a cap on his own feelings and deal with the heartbreak in a slightly more productive way. He doesn't care how convincing he is, just says his piece, and pats his friend on the shoulder like sleep it off, buddy. We can debate more in the morning if you need to.

Charlie agrees to meet Scotia again, even if he thinks he's going there to end things. He'll text him back and try to meet Scotia the following day, he wouldn't want to drag anything. He still likes Scotia enough that he wouldn't want to leave him hanging.

SCOTIA: Scotia feels lighter but also burdened all at once when Charlie texts him back. He'll want to meet at the bar because it's common ground but not when he's working because he doesn't want their conversation to get interrupted. He likes Charlie and he wants to set this right, he doesn’t feel good when they’re not talking.

Scotia probably tells Charlie to come in towards the end of his workday so he can get off the clock and give him his undivided attention. His heart literally skips a beat when he sees Charlie and it shows in his face. But when he finally gets out from behind the bar and finds a table for them to sit at, it's with a glass of wine for Charlie as a gesture of peace. "I missed you last night," he'll tell him quietly but then shakes his head a little because he knows that was stupid. He knows Charlie doesn't want to hear that right now, he just couldn't help himself. He takes a deep breath before Charlie can respond and add, "I didn't tell you I had a kid because that's not sexy. It's not sexy being a single dad who has to carve 2 hours out of the day for himself to do one thing that he enjoys. It's messy, a lot of what I have going on outside of us is messy but things are real good when it's just us and I think you think so too so I...didn't want just us to get messy too. Okay? God's honest truth. I just didn't want you to feel like you had to shoulder my burdens...." He hesitates, looks like he might say something else but he doesn't. Just licks his lips and sips at his water cause he's nervous and rambled. He didn't have to explain himself but it all just tumbled out.

CHARLIE: Charlie feels so conflicted, he understands Scotia's reason but he still stands by the idea that it's better for them to break up now. Charlie thinks their relationship ending is inevitable, also because of the whole secret wizard world he's hiding from Scotia.

"I'm a mess too, I get it. Ask anyone that knows me. Ask my brother, he'll hand you a list of all my major fuck ups so far and it would all be true." He pulls his hands back to his lap, clasps them together to keep them out of Scotia's reach, "But I don't wanna screw this up as well... I'm not ready for this, I'm sorry. I'm- I'm really sorry, Scotia."

SCOTIA: Scotia’s face falls when he realizes he’s being broken up with. This is hard and the opposite of what he wanted, the precise reason he hid his child, to begin with. His face shows his heartbreak and he can’t even hide it. Scotia has feelings for this man who is literally rejecting his child; his son is such a big part of his life. How is he supposed to beg for someone who can't handle his life in the long term?

"You're not gonna screw this up unless you do exactly the thing you're trying to do to not screw this up," Scotia tells him hoarsely. He literally cannot contain the crumbling in his eyes, "Right now, my son doesn't have a bearing on what we have. If you want it to stay that way it...it can stay that way." He says the words but they hurt because he wants more. If he didn't know it before, he knows it now that he wants more with Charlie.

CHARLIE: Charlie getting up too fast, knocking his chair behind him and moving to the other side of the table to reach Scotia. He's kissing the side of his face, his forehead, his neck and whispering he's sorry and that he hates to see Scotia crying. "I wish I was better for you."

SCOTIA: Scotia is so startled by the movement but when Charlie comes close to him he moves a hand to touch the younger man- to grip on to whatever part of him he can. It crushes him to hear the words but Charlie seems so sure and Scotia is a man of pride. He feels as though he's already begged and he's not going to grovel to someone who is determined not to be with him. He just bows his head to his chest and takes a shaky breath and takes in the closeness for as long as he can have it before Charlie leaves him.

Charlie tells Dex he went there to the bar to talk to Scotia and they're over now and it fucking sucks but Charlie believes it's better this way. So he'll just have to deal with it, it was his choice.

Dex waits for Charlie to show any signs of improvement but Dex doesn't enjoy it when Charlie acts fake with him. He calls Charlie out on his bullshit a few weeks later. He's like okay drop the act because you know this Charlie isn't for me. It's for the rest of the world. Try again.

CHARLIE: "I'm angry. I'm so angry, Dex, I don't know how to suppress this, I want- I hate feeling this, I hate how much I still think about him, I hate how attached I've gotten without noticing. I fucking hate it."

DEX: "Angry at what?" Dex looks so concerned because honestly, he wouldn't have called his friend out if he couldn't tell that he was about to blow. "Dude, you didn't even give yourself a chance," he continues the casual calling out. "If you're frustrated it's cause you quit without trying. And normally, in day to day...you're not a fuckin quitter, Charlie. You're a damn Ravenclaw, you see things through." Dex had observed how fast Charlie went from finding out something he didn't like to cutting and running and already was like uh oh, this is gonna hurt and be bad

Narrator's voice: Dexter was correct.

CHARLIE: "I fucking know, Dex, and that's why it feels so... Stupid! I am so convinced I'm not the type of person he needs I already bailed out! He doesn't need me not knowing what the fuck I want and risk getting his kid involved with someone like me." Charlie wants to punch something and given their history there's a chance he'll punch Dex just because he's the only one there. It's not the first time it happened and he knows Dex will forgive him or maybe punch him back if necessary, "He's... Just a guy I met at a bar." he tells himself, "He doesn't even know that my means of transport from here to his bar is my mind and my wand. He thinks I'm a Muggle... We don't know each other, so why is this so hard?"

DEX: "Someone like you? What the fuck does that even mean Charlie? Have you murdered someone lately? Punched a kid? Tossed someone off a building? You tried to break up with him because you thought he was married, you didn't even want to homewreck his imaginary relationships! What does someone like me even mean? You gonna talk down to Scotia's kid like your dad did to you? You gonna tell that kid he can do better no matter how hard he tries? You gonna shut him out, kick him around, break his ability to talk about literally anything?" Dex is nearly huffing at this point, he's so mad because Charlie is mad. They're just feeding off each other's energy. "Because unless that's your plan, I don't think your someone like me is valid. You're you, Charlie. You're not half fuckin bad, actually." He certainly looks and sounds angry despite his complimentary words.

CHARLIE: Charlie still looks crazy but he stays silent before saying, "You're so embarrassing, Dexter, did you just hear what you said?" Because he has to deflect, he doesn't want to admit what Dex said is true. There is a lot of self-loathing within Charlie but he wouldn't admit it or carry it as a flaw.

"Do you think- Should I call him? Will he even pick up?"

DEX: "You could sit here and wonder for another three weeks. Or you can just follow your gut and do it and see where you land. How much sadder can you possibly get at this point, right?"

Dex is still pretty hopped up on adrenaline from their level of emotions. He’s struggling to even be supportive without being aggressive.

CHARLIE: Charlie sits down and just breathes for a few minutes. He knows what he has to do, as painfully awkward as it will be. On his way out he hugs Dex from the back and tells him "What would I be without you, Dexter D'Angelo! Wish me good luck."

DEX: Dex definitely enjoys the love and tells Charlie he'd be a sad loser but not to worry because he'll never leave him so they'll never see that fate.

Charlie lands on the spot he always used to and feels like he fucked up the apparition because he feels so nauseous out of the blue. He knows it's still working hours at the bar, so he stays there thinking of what he wants to say until there are only 5 minutes until closing time. Only then does he walk in, slowly making his way to the bar and waiting for Scotia to notice him.

SCOTIA: Scotia damn near drops the three drinks in his hands when he sees Charlie's face. His mouth goes dry and he delivers the drinks. He almost tells the bartender he's working with to cover him the last few minutes but he takes a deep breath and tells himself to maintain his cool. He has the other person he's with bring Charlie a wine though while he waits. Just the dumb, cheap kind that Charlie likes.

CHARLIE: Charlie thanks the other bartender and tips but he doesn't drink any of it this time, just let it rest in front of him while he waits for Scotia

SCOTIA: Scotia's coworker is so up in his business too, like isn’t that the guy who used to just hang out during your shift all the time? Where has he been? Look at him, is he okay? And Scotia is like shut up and let me finish chasing these drunks out so I can take care of some business.

Scotia's al nerves though, he literally cannot imagine what Charlie wants with him all these weeks later. But he cleans up a little bit and then walks over to Charlie's table, face neutral but heart thundering in his chest. He literally cried in front of Charlie last time and that's so out of the ordinary for him, he's pushing himself so hard not to seem weak, not to seem like he can be taken advantage of. "Hi," he just says, sitting down across from him. He notices the untouched wine and gestures to it, "Not your brand anymore?"

CHARLIE: Charlie watches Scotia approaching him and part of him feels excited to be there, but his pessimist side reminds him there's a good chance they won't get back together.

"I wanted to make sure you knew that I was completely sober," he answers knowing Scotia didn't expect a real answer for that, but it was true, he needed Scotia to believe what he was about to say.

He pulls his wand from the inner pocket in his jacket and places on the table in front of them, taking a deep breath he speaks, "I haven't been honest with you either, Scotia. This," he nods at the piece of wood in front of them, "Is my wand. My wand that I use.... For magic." he's probably trying very hard not to come out as funny although it sounds ridiculous.

"I'm a wizard, Scotia. A real one."

SCOTIA: Scotia shrugs when Charlie turns down the drink and pulls it towards himself to take a big sip. He raises a brow at the item that's placed between them, dismissing it as a tree branch at best. "Excuse me?" He damn near chokes on the wine. "Charlie, honestly, of all the excuses to come back here after getting spooked from meeting my kid- no, you didn't really even meet him, actually. You glanced at him. From a distance. And then ran. And you never really came back. So for this to be your reasoning behind it. It- it's not amusing." He grows increasingly red in the face, leaning back in his chair to run both hands through his hair. He lets out a deep breath, eyes darting back and forth as he looks at the ceiling for a moment because he can't believe he let himself think or have hope that Charlie had really come back for him. Don't fucking cry again he tells himself. Do not

CHARLIE: Charlie isn't sure if Scotia is mad at him for not coming right out of the gate telling he wants to get back together or if he truly thinks Charlie is making a very convoluted excuse to explain why they broke up. He squints his eyes, trying to figure out if he ever made a joke so absurd that it would be possible for Scotia to believe he is lying about that.

"It's not- That's not why I walked away that day. But you heard me right? I'm a wizard, I'm really not fucking around. I'm actually a professor at a school of witchcraft," it does sound like crazy talk, "Scotia, listen, please." Charlie wants to calm him down so bad so he can just see he's telling the truth. "You're right, okay? About me getting spooked seeing your kid, I was terrified and I still am! I still... Believe it's not a good idea for you to add me to your personal life, because I am good at screwing things up and I know you'd never forgive me if I hurt your son."

"That's why it's so scary, that's why it feels like this is beyond what I can take. But I've spent the last weeks trying to move on but turns out I can't get over it. I can't get over you and I... I don't know when it happened, but I like you. I like you a lot. So. I wanted to tell you the truth of my identity as well and see if. If even with that added to the list of weird shit we'd have to deal with if you still... Wanted to be with me."

SCOTIA: "My kid, whose name you don't even know, Charlie, you didn't even bother. You-you just left. I get it, you were scared but..." Scotia narrows his eyes, "You could have at least tried to ask? You saw him and I was suddenly not good enough for you anymore and that-" He takes a deep breath, realizing he's getting louder and riled up. "Charlie, in my pants is in my fuckin person life. Too late, you were already there. You could've stayed on the other side of the bar from me forever and saved yourself the trouble of all this that way. But you already crossed that line, you were already in my personal life." Scotia clears his throat, unable to even focus on the crazy wizardry part anymore past his intense emotions related to their relationship- or lack thereof. "You cannot just walk in here and tell me that you want to be with me but that you won't be good for me if we're together. You cannot be unwilling to change to be better and stronger if you don't think you are those things now. If you don't feel like I'm worth at least trying to be good for then you have no place here tonight, Charlie."

CHARLIE: "I'm sorry for not asking your kid's name right then and there if it wasn't clear I was panicking beyond reasoning, Scotia. You say now that I was already in your personal life, but that's not how it felt. Up until a few weeks ago, I thought you still saw me as a good fuck and costumer. And I thought the same, as cruel as it sounds but it's true. For all I know, if it wasn't for your babysitter failing that day, you wouldn't have told me about your son at all. And it hit me that... I didn't know you. You could've been married with kids and having an affair with me just because.

I wouldn't even have the right to be upset, because we never talked about us. I didn't think there was an us to even talk about... So it took me all of that shit happening to see how much I wanted you, yes, is that fucked up? Maybe but that's how I realized.

And if me changing or becoming someone better suited for your life is what you need from me, then you're right, I don't think I'll have to be better, so why waste both of our times.

I guess I really have no place being here tonight."

SCOTIA: Scotia's shoulders deflate with the way Charlie comes at him. The longer the man goes on the more his desperation becomes clear and suddenly, when Charlie finishes rambling his thoughts, Scotia simply blurts out, "Thank you...for telling me all that." He licks his lips and takes a deep breath, not a panicked, and frustrated one this time. His voice is quieter when he speaks, trying to make Charlie actually listen to him instead of just hearing his words, "I didn't tell you about my son because I thought you thought this was just a good fuck, Charlie. You're right, we didn't talk about this but we should've. I don't just have breakfast in the morning with everybody- actually nobody, I haven't had breakfast the morning after with anybody since my kid was born and you can hear that whole story, plain and true if you want to. But I'm willing to bet you don't just come and sit in bars waiting for people's shifts to be over so you can get a good lay either. So...we should've talked about it."

Scotia shakes his head, his fingers fiddling with the wine glass in front of him but he doesn't take a drink, he can't bring himself to stomach a thing. "I don't want you to change to be suited for my life. I don't know who's asked you to do that in the past but it's not me. I want the exact opposite, I want you to realize you don't have to change to be with me. You keep telling me you're no good and you're gonna be bad for me but I haven't seen any of that in the last year." His last words are nearly a whisper because he can't fathom how else to make Charlie understand, "The only time you hurt me is when you tell me you're going to."

CHARLIE: Charlie hates every second of the honesty they threw at each other's face. It was necessary but it hurt and chances are it will hurt for a while before it gets better.

But he wants the other man so bad. Was it always like this? He knows he's always been attracted to Scotia from the start, but this ache of being apart... When did it become so real? Charlie didn't allow himself to get involved with anyone like this since he was young, engaged and so naive.

He also knew that like Dexter, Scotia didn't seem to be able to see all the ways Charlie was flawed beyond repair. Maybe they had a point, Charlie wanted to believe, maybe he isn't the bad guy he thinks he is.

Or maybe that's exactly who he is and that's why despite it being selfish, knowing only their determination to be together won't be enough, he wants to be with Scotia. He wants him, even if he believes it will end terribly.

"Stay with me tonight, please. We don't have to fuck or anything, I just. Don't wanna be away from you anymore."

SCOTIA: "Okay, yeah," Scotia nods instantly, "Just- let me make a few calls, I'm sure I can get a hold of someone-" He hesitates and then, "Unless...you want to come home with me?" Scotia clears his throat, "He'll be asleep by now. You don't have to talk to him, be with him unless you want to. It can still be just us."

He licks his lips and then adds as an afterthought, in the interest of them talking about things now, "This isn't a test, you can say no if you want to."

CHARLIE: Charlie doesn't hesitate, just nods and reaches out to grab Scotia's hands. "Let's go."

SCOTIA: As they walk out of the bar, Scotia tells Charlie to prove he’s a wizard, circling back to the untouched matter at hand that he certainly had not forgotten, simply prioritized under the well being of their relationship.

CHARLIE: Charlie doesn't say it out loud but he's definitely thinking "How the fuck am I supposed to apparate us safely when I feel like I can't even stand right now?"

"I... I've never been there, so I can't take us there but. Is there like ah famous monument or street near your home?"

SCOTIA: Scotia is so blown away thinking to himself, there's no way this is a thing so why not play along right? He tells Charlie the name of the main road that's a five-minute walk from his house looks at Charlie like he’s nuts.

CHARLIE: Charlie thinks hard if he's ever been there and knows the place well enough, before pulling Scotia close and saying, "Hold on and don't let go. Really. Don't let go."

SCOTIA: Scotia puts his arms around Charlie tightly and hides his face into the crook of Charlie's neck, thinking, I'm taking a leap of faith with you, you crazy son of a bitch. And a snap, crackle, and pop later, he’s doubled over on the sidewalk, throwing up all he’s got onto the street. Now he’s hoping Charlie still thinks he’s cute after this new milestone.

CHARLIE: "The first time is always rough, isn't it?" Charlie laughs when Scotia's face goes green, "You said you wanted me to prove it." He shrugs

SCOTIA: Hearing Charlie’s laughter and teasing, Scotia shoves Charlie’s side despite being kneeled over. “Don’t make fun of me, you’re the one who did this! My God...you did this…”

CHARLIE: "You look like you're about to pass out, we need to get you to your house. Which direction, honey?"

SCOTIA: Scotia does not answer him, wipes his mouth, stands up, and just goes, "What the fuck was that? Is that how you-" He steps back. "Charlie, what?"

But then has to step towards Charlie again anyway to put a hand on his shoulder because he needs to steady himself.

CHARLIE: Charlie holds back his laugh, he doesn't wanna get shoved again. "So pet names are your weakness, huh. I'd so kiss you right now if your mouth didn't smell so bad, ugh, let's go, Scosh."

SCOTIA: It's hard not to believe Charlie after that so Scotia asks a hundred questions on the five-minute walk back to his place. 

"What the hell else can you do?" "What...happened to you?? Or are there more people like this" "I'm not gonna wake up and this is going to be an elaborate prank, is it?" "Charlie, did you fucking do that every time you wanted to see me?? That's absurd."

CHARLIE: "Yep, I literally bent myself in time and space just to see your cute face."

SCOTIA: Scotia stops to grin when Charlie says that. It brings him back to earth a little bit after the wild experience of apparating but as he finally finds his legs to walk again, to lead Charlie towards his home, he slips a hand into the younger man's. They rarely hold hands outside of the bedroom, let alone in the streets so it's new but Scotia doesn't want to make Charlie nervous by drawing attention to it. "Charlie, whatever you do- magic- whatever...it's never dangerous...right?" He asks hesitantly, still feeling crazy just saying it out loud.

CHARLIE: Charlie takes a quick glance at their hands together and the image of the last time their hands were like that flashed for a moment.

Scotia on top of him with his hand tight around Charlie's, pressing him into the mattress, kissing his collarbones, making him feel amazing–

Scotia's sad expression telling him "I missed you last night–

Charlie, you didn't even bother, you just left–

If you don't feel like I'm worth at least trying to be good for then you have no place here tonight–

"Right?" he heard and came back to reality. What did Scotia ask him just now? Danger in magic, okay.

"Hm, I think it's much like your type of society. We are capable of being dangerous, but we have rules, penalties, and conscience to know we shouldn't act or have those types of desires."

Charlie holds Scotia's hand tighter in his hand, wanting to reassure him it wasn't something he should worry about. "I've got an easy life, very privileged, even by wizards' standards. So I'm safe. I'm very safe here right now actually, with you holding my hand." he says, giving Scotia a wink and a smile.

SCOTIA: It's hard for Scotia not to be soothed by Charlie's smile and his easy words, the charming demeanor he presents despite himself. "Don't be upset if I ask you all of this again in the morning," He takes a deep breath, "You'll have to forgive me for wondering if I dreamt up most of it..." He gives a dry chuckle hearing about this side of Charlie's life he never knew about. "Charlie, the fact that you're here, right now...when you can do that and whatever else you can do..." He takes a breath, "It's kind of unbelievable. What I mean is that it means a lot to me. You are safe with me. You've always been."

When they get back to his place Charlie will get to watch Scotia let his babysitter go, give her a chunk of the tips he got from the night out of his pocket because she had to watch his kid for so long. But he'll show Charlie to the bedroom and tell him to make himself comfortable while he checks on Jensen real quick. Charlie will get to look around the small room that's so different from how he lives. It's an intimate look into Scotia's life but when Scotia does come back Charlie gets cuddled so hard. He'll hold him like he used to weeks ago when they were still doing this regularly. Kiss the back of his neck and try to relax him because Scotia knows even if Charlie isn't showing it, he has to be wound up about this to some extent.

CHARLIE: Charlie definitely reciprocates, even with all the things hovering in his head, reacting to Scotia's body still wins over everything He'll kiss Scotia until their lips hurt, fit his legs between Scotia's and smell his skin and let himself do what he's wanted for weeks.

SCOTIA: He loses himself in that touch, he revels in it. He missed him so much and between their kisses, Charlie will hear it. Breathlessly candid. But Scotia can lose himself in the moment and in the way they literally hold each other all he wants. He can escape their reality for a few hours and a blissful night's sleep. But the fact of the matter is he'll have to untangle himself from Charlie early in the morning because his toddler wakes up early. He'll have to tend to obligations of his life that he wants Charlie to be a part of so bad but without overwhelming him.

CHARLIE: But for once, Charlie wakes up first because he kept waking up in the night.  And one of those times, he gets thirsty and goes to the kitchen to grab some water. He basically wakes everyone up in the neighborhood almost screaming when he feels something touch his leg… And it's just Jensen

"Oh... Hi?"

Charlie's first interaction with the kid is almost him swearing and yelling. He stands there and the kid is looking at him with a tilted head clearly confused. Charlie is so awkward and scared. He'll do a childish wave with his hand and say, "I'm Charlie. You're Jensen, right?"

They end up hanging out on the couch between the kitchen and the rooms. Jensen clearly still sleepy but he was the one that climbed that first, Charlie just followed him. Charlie grabs the remote control and almost turns the TV on but Jensen's eyes went a bit wide when he touched that so Charlie felt like maybe he should not do that.

Charlie grabs one of the books on the coffee table and it's Jensen's and has thick pages filled with animals and simple scenarios. So he brings it and starts flipping through it. Not that he's interested but he has no idea what else he can do, he can't just go back to Scotia's room and leave the kid there right?

Jensen gets closer to look at it together and sometimes points and says a word, usually the names of the animals. They make their way through that book and two others before Charlie sees that Jensen isn't pointing or babbling anything more because he's basically asleep.

And now he panics again because what does one do now? He calls Jensen’s name a few times and pokes his cheek, making the boy frown, "Don't you want to sleep on your bed?"

And instead of getting up and walking back to his room, the boy raises his arms expecting Charlie to take him. He awkwardly takes Jensen back to his room and breathes relieved. F

Charlie goes to drink another cup of water and goes back to bed, close to Scotia.

SCOTIA: When Charlie comes back to bed Scotia is a sleepy bear who puts his arms around him and just tugs him close, just assuming he went to the bathroom or something. When they do get up for good Charlie will get to watch this little boy climb into his dad's arms like they are each other's worlds and that's so obvious in the way Jensen says dad and the way Scotia literally looks at his son while brushing back his hair. The way he talks to him and holds him.

Scotia literally chokes when he's talking to Jensen, trying to make introductions, "This is my b-" before aggressively clearing his throat.  "This is daddy's really good friend, okay?" Mostly because he doesn’t want to alarm Charlie, but. But the moment Jensen lays eyes on him, he shouts “Charlie!!" And Scotia is thrown off by his son knowing the name already.

CHARLIE: Charlie makes fun of Scotia for that one, "You can call me your boyfriend, you know. I think it's better than being daddy's good friend. I'd never want to be just friends with you." He leans to give Scotia a quick kiss.

When Jensen calls his name all excited, Charlie just nods like "Yep. That is... My name." He’s still getting used to this interaction with a child thing.

SCOTIA: Scotia gets all red in the face for being called out about that. Licks his lips after the little kiss he's given and tells his little son this is his boyfriend. And Jensen doesn't care because he's tiny but it means a lot to Scotia, his heart is racing.

Honestly, Scotia is just glad that Charlie didn't freak having to interact with Jensen in the morning. He doesn't question it too much. He'll put Jensen down at one point and Jensen brings that book from the coffee table to Charlie and Scotia chuckles and tells his son, "Maybe Charlie can read to you a different time, buddy. We've gotta have breakfast so Charlie doesn't run late for the day okay?" And Jensen just looks between the two of them like ...but

Scotia tries to talk a little more over breakfast but he treads lightly because he doesn't want to overwhelm Charlie first thing in the morning.

CHARLIE: Charlie pulls him by his waist and tells him quietly, "We're okay, right? I thought I could go to the bar tonight."

SCOTIA: Scotia easily moves to Charlie and holds him. He doesn't answer the question directly, rather touches his forehead to Charlie's and tells him, "I love that you're here right now. Right here, in my shitty apartment, with my decent kid. I love that. I..." He swallows as a lump of emotions seizes his throat for a moment. "I really wanted that for a while. I just didn't know how to ask for it. It'll be so much easier for you to see me now that you've been here- now that you're okay being here. I'd love to see you at the bar tonight."

CHARLIE: Charlie wants to ask why didn't he say something sooner but knows that it will lead to a whole different discussion that doesn't matter anymore. Scotia seems happy and that's what's important to Charlie. He gives Scotia a not so innocent kiss and takes a few steps back, "See you later, honey.”

He winks and apparates right there out of Scotia's house.

-FIN