#charles is a spineless person

[blackswan8043]

Damn

King Charles and his … consort (abridged version)

[verdemoun]

because i like to pretend every single character was as devastated by kieran's death as i was, i would like to take this opportunity to remind people that if you rescue tilly from the foremans after jack's party, miss grimshaw will mention kieran being missing and that she's going to send some boys out looking for him (screaming crying they DID look for him). but that leaves the question of who. based on who goes looking for arthur when he's away from camp too long, our choices are bill, charles or javier.

obviously, i think miss grimshaw is acutely aware of how much bill torments the poor boy and wouldn't send bill after him

if charles was sent looking for him he would've fucking found him.

so that leaves javier. i think he would've ridden out 2-3 times looking for kieran. first time he was just annoyed, annoyed he was right: said it himself 'once an o'driscoll, always an o'driscoll'. the spineless little man had finally gone running back to colm the second the gang faced a real threat.

second time he had to stop early because boaz got a stone properly wedged in his shoe, and javier realizes he'd gotten so used to the o'driscoll taking care of the horses he had actually neglected to check himself. it feels wrong seeing charles being the one to cart haybales over to the horses, and lenny being the one trying to brush sweat out of their coats before tacking them up. makes a passing comment that the o'driscoll would've had them all done by now, and the saddles would've been clean enough to see their faces in. without kieran, it'll go back to being a three-person chore tending to the herd. he had to admit the kid did a lot of work around camp.

third time he looked along the river, because the few things he knew about the boy was that he liked horses, and fishing. remembers how disappointed the o'driscoll was when javier said there was no way he'd go fishing with him - he was preparing lures for arthur (and how the kid looked that much like a sad, wet cat javier had tossed a bag of crickets at him (was it an apology?), and kieran was happy again because it was much better bait for the local bluegill population than the worms he picked out of the dirt) it became another thing to tease him over, maybe they'd go fishing together.

post horsemen, apocalypses, javier is angry. he's ready to ride out and hunt down the o'driscolls himself, to hit them back even though it's the wrong move. because damnit, kieran was one of them. that meant even if he was a damned o'driscoll, he was part of the gang: the closest thing to family javier had. and no one mentions that javier was the one who went looking for him. no one says he failed. he doesn't need them to point out that he's more angry at himself for not looking hard enough, for not doing enough, not being enough to find the damned kid before that happened to him than he is mad at the o'driscolls.

on nights when he's on guard, and his brain is swimming in the whiskey that he was drinking to stay warm (poor excuse, everything in lemonye is sticky and hot), he catches himself staring over to a wooden marker standing alone in the middle of a clearing, buried facing away from them. feels himself getting angry again, because if he didn't get angry he'd start blaming himself and apologies never solved anything. instead he simmers in his rage, glowering into the night because damnit they were meant to go fishing together.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

A certain mega-narc was noticeably absent from Victoria’s big 50th birthday bash here in London. I wonder if this was a bruise to M’s ego… Any thoughts on this? She basically has paid PR friends who are d-list actresses like herself and its pretty pathetic. I bet Meghan envisioned her life being very different than the sad reality it actually is, as she’s still a massive fraud and a failure, but now on a global scale. I don’t think she will ever get to the crème de la crème of elites that she craves to be like and obsesses over. Even Misha Nonoo married better than poor old Meg. I think Harry is well and truly stuck with her because she will never find anyone as weak or as spineless or as stupid as him. He’s not wealthy enough for her lazy good for nothing ass, but beggars can’t be choosers - and she has been a desperate grifter and beggar all her life. I truly believe this toxic marriage is her ultimate karma and it couldn’t happen to a nicer person.

The Beckhams put a stop to Meghan's PR shenanigans with their family in 2021. The cracks have been there since 2018.

Sometime in late 2017/early 2018, Meghan accused Victoria of leaking about her to the tabloids. Harry called David to confront them about it and there was a row. Supposedly they patched things up and the Beckhams were invited to the wedding. (Revealed in 2022)

Harry asked David to be an ambassador for the Sydney Invictus Games and David agreed. But when the Games were actually taking place, Harry refused to meet, see, or speak to David. It pissed David off and he soured on Harry.

Meghan asked Victoria for free clothes. Victoria declined; she doesn't give freebies. (First revealed in 2019, resurfaced again in 2023.)

Fast forward to 2021 when the Beckhams' son has gotten engaged and they're planning the wedding. Meghan issued several PR stories and a blind item about how the Beckhams are scheduling their son's wedding around the Sussexes' availability.

The 2021 PR manifestation for invites to the Beckham wedding seems to have been the final straw that broke the Beckhams' back. It's pretty plausible, IMO; there haven't been any articles, stories, or blind items about the Sussexes and Beckhams hanging out. In fact, the Beckhams have been pretty solidly aligned with the Waleses since early 2022 and appear to have cut all ties with the Sussexes.

July 2022. David and William do a mental health thing together.

December 2022. David leaves the FIFA Qatar World Cup for a whirlwind trip to Boston to present at Earthshot 2022.

May 2023. David gives King Charles a jar of honey from his bees. (Becks got into beekeeping during the pandemic. It's covered in their documentary.)

July 2023. David and Victoria throw a huge party in Miami to celebrate Messi's first game with the team. All the celebs from LA attend. No Sussexes.

April 2024. Sussexes are in Miami for polo party. No Beckhams. Not even a hint or trace of PR - in the olden days, Meghan would've at least tried to manifest a lunch or cocktails.

And of course, we can't forget David queueing for 12+ hours to pay his respects to The Queen. If that's not a sign to the rest of us that he's exclusively TeamBRF, then I don't know what is.

[valyrfia]

Ferarri isnt winning shit lmao. The bald man is just as spineless as his predecessor and I personally think charles should just start ripping people's throats out with his teeth

guys love you but I'm not going to entertain anti-Fred takes just because he's not explicitly taking Charles' side in every interview. I think we all underestimate just how much he had to gut that team and rebuild it anew just to clear out the Binotto rot. He's building that team around Charles, he wants a Charles WDC MORE than most of us, dare I say.

[when-we-drive-away-in-secret]

“But even if the meal had featured a variety of foods, all cooked deliciously and brought by a waiter dressed in a simple, comfortable outfit, the Baudelaires would not have enjoyed their dinner, because the thought of Gunther spending the evening alone with their guardian made them lose their appetite far more than too much pink, flavourful fish, and Jerome was simply not willing to discuss the matter any further.” - The Ersatz Elevator, Chapter Five

Do you ever think about how the Baudelaires were genuinely terrified that Olaf was going to murder Esmé? How experience had taught them that it was their responsibility to protect their guardians, and not the other way around, because time and again the adult in charge would be left alone with Olaf and would end up dead

Monty, Josephine, (almost) Charles, even Georgina's death will have left a(n understandably) massive impact despite her villainy. And they always tried to warn the adults and they were never believed. And then the Quagmires were taken when they were left alone with Olaf and once again, the Baudelaires blame themselves for the kidnapping

And then they meet Esmé and Jerome—a shallow woman married to a kind but spineless man—and despite her faults, despite her supposed indifference to them or their well-being, the children are terrified that she's going to die

And I just think about it a lot. How they were so worried, and then she was fine, the how that relief overshadowed any of them asking why Olaf didn't hurt her until it was too late for asking to make any difference. How they still trusted her completely—enough to try and get her on side by telling her Olaf's plan. And how Esmé was the last adult that the Baudelaires completely trusted for a long time—because later, they always wondered if this person might be working with Olaf, too. They always had to second guess themselves, and they were so young, and had already seen far too much, but despite that they always tried to see the good in people

And I don't really know where I'm going with this but I've made myself sad

[pinkheart22]

LETS DISCUSS THE ALBATROSS

heres the albatross poem by  Charles Baudelaire translated to English

Often, for fun, the crewmen Take albatrosses, vast birds of the seas, Who follow, indolent traveling companions, The ship sliding across bitter chasms. As soon as they placed them on the boards, May these kings of the azure, clumsy and ashamed, Pitifully leave their large white wings Like oars dragging next to them. This winged traveler, how clumsy and spineless he is! He, once so handsome, how comical and ugly he is! One teases its beak with a burner, The other mimes, while limping, the cripple who was flying! The Poet is like the prince of the clouds Who haunts the storm and laughs at the archer; Exiled to the ground amid boos, His giant wings prevent him from walking.

It's like she says in Anti hero shes too big to hang out slowly lurking to your favorite city -- Shes Dragging her large white wings because shes been "caught"

She might be talking about during reputation, how she used to be handsome (loved by everyone)-- and how people betrayed her and the media calling her a liar "being comical and ugly" ( the butt of the joke, daylight) or maybe from the rumours of him cheating she felt so beautiful with him but then he made her feel "comical and ugly"

"one teases, the other mimes" - in reference to how he had that secret text message tortured club. hes miming and teasing her for being who she is, a poet, a songwriter a genius

"the poet" - TAYLOR

"who haunts the storm" - Every mornin', I glared at you with storms in my eyes

"laughs at the archer" - is she laughing at herself for her own archer song on lover thinking that he could stay, now she laughs because he couldn't??

"Exiled to the ground" - she cant spread her wings and fly and be herself when shes been shot out of the sky by this person. Shes Exiled to being in hiding, wishing she hadnt lost those years

"his giant wings prevent him from walking" - because shes so famous and so well loved, it prevents her from going outside otherwise they will be seen together, she will be in the public eye , again "TOO BIG TO HANG OUT" from anti hero

ALSO, Exile from Folklore - Laughin', but the joke's not funny at all. You're not my homeland anymore. So what am I defending now?

This is all a theory, not based on any facts, just rumours. I dot not claim to know about their relationship.

feb 23 2024

[vicsy]

what's your favourite metaphor for each of your favourite characters? the one that you always want to include when writing, or if you read someone else including, you're like 'you know your shit'?

I've been sitting on this ask for over a MONTH but I do believe I have an answer now.

If anyone read my writing (thank you....), you'd maybe notice that I loooove my metaphors. I even overuse them sometimes. Among my fave ones are the metaphors for devotion, loyalty and, of course, emotional pain.

But nothing, nothing gets me going like writing about anger.

An oh boy. Do I got a shitload of it.

But that is beside the point. Anger, to me, is an endless well of possibilities. Where did it come from, how did it develop? How much of it is justified and how much of it is punishable by consequences?

To answer your question, Sol, exploring the anger of some of my fave characters is something that excites me. And coming up with metaphors that have to do with anger is a challenge I always willingly accept.

My beloved headcanons in regards to anger:

We have Charles and all of his righteous anger always turned inwards and it's so poisonous; Charles never lets it boil over and gets burned in the end. Rinse and repeat. His anger washes him over like ocean waves and like a high tide going to low, it disappears only to reappear again. Charles would rather choke on his own emotions than be truly out with his anger. Those occasions we saw him give way to some of his anger were heartbreaking and I can only imagine what he continues to keep inside.

There is Pierre and his anger is explosive like a volcano and it doesn't matter if he's at fault or not. His anger is outspoken and as much as it pulls him back, it always propels him forward. It's fuel to his fire as much as it is gasoline poured over his head. Some of the anger he can't let go of to this day and Pierre holds grudges expertly. There is little to nothing that can truly extinguish it, so it's usually up to Pierre to reign it in.

Alex, by far, is the most interesting case. His anger is subdued but not like Charles' – Alex's anger is angled outward and he knows where to point it t but himself in check. So much so you can see it in his face rather clearly. He's funny and goofy, sure, but his anger is humongous. Rightfully so, if you ask me.

There is Max, of course, by far one of the best examples of when the anger is borrowed. Like someone (his dad, the public etc) stuck it to him and let it grow along with him. And so it did, to some disastrous proportions, but I never saw an inherently angry person behind Max. Again, it's like a costume a couple of sizes wrong. Bet he'll get rid of it completely some day.

My most fave Danny boy, oh, I could write essays. He does this incredibly good people pleaser bit where you won't regard him as someone who's naturally angry but my god. His anger simmers so dangerously close to the surface but you'd have to look very close to see even a hint of it. Behind that smile or a stupid joke or, frankly, Daniel being very spineless at times (I say that with love) hides a huge storm. You don't people like Daniel properly pissed off and you shouldn't. I think people had forgotten with time but there were several occasions we saw Daniel succumb to that anger. But that could be just me talking about the good old days.

Lance is a peculiar case. He's the one to bottle up and keep quiet until one day he explodes. Or he might not do that at all. I feel like his anger is an entity that exist by his side and Lance rarely give it the attention it desperately asks of him. Unfortunately, people being very mean to him made Lance be more private and retract into himself. He knows a price he'd pay for a show of his true anger (we've seen it), even justified. And I am personally still not sure what to make of it.

Fernando is somewhat easier to comprehend when it comes to anger because of how disciplined he is. His anger obeys him with rather rare exceptions when it gets better of him. And I believe it comes with years in the sport that quite literally tried to kill him several times. His anger reminds me more of resentment than a full blown rage. I feel like he'd be angry at himself and others in equal measure. Fernando is a realist, not a dreamer and he knows when his anger might come in handy, as a tool to help him with good results or dealing with anything else. He's a wildcard for a reason.

All of this above is my personal view on some of my most fave characters. I do have opinions on others but they are not as extensive, of course.

And again, to me, anger is an emotion that is ruinous and helpful at the same time, depending on how you approach it. I like to write my characters sharing anger, I like to write them understanding it and fighting against it. Anger can blossom into something wonderful or something incredibly ugly. The duality of it shows the best angles of a character, especially mixed with competitiveness, discipline and respect; the way they were brought up in family and in society.

The best thing about anger is that it's a great teacher. But only if you're willing to take that lesson. And that lesson might make you worse but I guess we always tend to hope for the better.

[purplebass]

Ooh okay CONGRATS ON THE MILESTONE GIRL you deserve it! If you're still taking requests, might I ask for a Matthew + Alastair friendship fic of some kind? ❤️

Thanks 💜 I really tried to make it cool and funny and there is also Thomastair at the end. I hope you like it ✨

Read on A03

Desperate Times Call for Desperate Measures

Alastair knew he shouldn’t have asked for Matthew’s help, but he was desperate. As the second anniversary with his beloved Thomas was close, he was out of ideas, something he did not like nor wished on his worst enemy or least favorable acquaintance. Not even on Matthew, decidedly, who he had never once thought as a foe but not as a friend either. 

He checked his pocket watch. The clock had just struck seven in the morning, and he was by the gate of the house he and Thomas had been sharing for five months. He knew that he was the one who was early, and not the other one who was late. 

The evening before they both were at an event at the Townsends, only because their parents had forced them to attend. Matthew’s mother, the Consul, rendered it imperative to go, and so did Gideon Lightwood, who was not blood related to Alastair in any way, yet had been a more fatherly figure to him in the last two years than his father had ever been. Alastair’s heart warmed at the thought, and although he and Thomas hated the Townsends and found them annoying, he convinced him to go for their father’s sake. 

Catherine, whom Alastair concluded was indeed on the list of those he would call boring, spineless and least favorable to become one of his friends, was getting into shadowhunters politics. Charlotte Fairchild was to be her mentor, something she did not enjoy and of which Alastair knew because of his dinners at the Lightwoods. He swore he had never seen Matthew’s mother sigh and shake her head so much during dinner, but he knew her hands were tied. 

After Bridgestock was kicked out as Inquisitor of the London Enclave, all the members decided that it was mandatory to mentor the new shadowhunters who wanted to get into their politics. To train them for their role so they would not resort into threatening other members of their society in order to get what they wanted. Charlotte herself proposed it, and Alastair thought it was a good idea. He knew that the woman was disheartened that her older son Bridgestock treated him as a bargain chip, and she didn’t want that to happen again to someone else with good intentions. As much as Alastair despised Charles Fairchild, he could understand his mother’s worries. 

The other members of the Enclave, including himself and Thomas, voted in favor of this measure, which ended up being approved. Charlotte, Gideon, Will and Tessa, all offered their help as mentors along with some of the other representatives. 

There were two people along with Charles – who wanted to try to get into shadowhunter politics again, much to everyone’s dismay – who wanted to train for shadowhunter roles in London. One of them was the aforementioned boring Catherine Townsend, while the other was a person he had learned to know well during the last few years, Thomas’ cousin Jesse Blackthorn. Catherine expressed her desire to become Consul a few months prior, along with Charles. Meanwhile, Jesse, much to no one’s surprise, wanted to train to become the next head of the London Institute. 

Charlotte chose not to mentor her son because it would have looked like nepotism – wasn’t it, though?. She would’ve gladly trained Jesse along with Gideon, but in hindsight, it was more fitting for him to be mentored by Will and Tessa, with whom he already worked everyday. In the end, it was Gideon who got Charles. Thomas patted his father’s shoulder once he knew, and offered him a genuine smile of understanding. Alastair wasn’t sure which of them had it worse, but probably both. 

This party was to celebrate Catherine’s first six months of training, and of course, they needed to attend to show that the Consul’s family and acquaintances were supporting. Alastair would have rather stayed home with Thomas, but he had a mission to accomplish, and he knew only Matthew could help him. 

He wished to talk to Fairchild directly at the event. It wasn’t like they never talked during events, but it was suspicious. He tried to intercept him when he went to the bathroom at some point, but believed it would be too awkward and stayed rooted to his place, hearing his sister Cordelia drone on the last addition to her and her husband’s house in Curzon Street. He rolled his eyes at that. Who cared about a statue made by a mundane artist when his mind was blank? He needed to find Matthew as soon as possible.

He had no way of tracking him – that would’ve been too much – if not through fire messages. And that also posed to be quite a difficult task. Thomas, who had been incredibly bored by the event, said that he wanted to do something exciting. Thus, even though it wasn’t their night duty to go on patrol, he agreed to go out with him until he had enough. Well, until Thomas, who had been yawning for the whole night, had finally given up on staying outside. If it were for him, he would’ve been in bed two hours prior, and he would’ve asked for Fairchild’s help way earlier. He waited for Thomas to doze off peacefully and sent the message. 

Fairchild. I know you must be surprised by this message, and by the hour on which it finds you, you must think I am either drunk or crazy – or both. Fret not with your speculations, as I will cut to the reason why I willed myself with the task of writing to you this late, and this unexpectedly. I found myself consumed by despair. And by shame. But I know that you are the only one who can help me. It’s been two years since I and Thomas started our relationship. The date is upcoming – in three days – but I still can’t find the perfect gift. I wanted to surprise him with something he may like, and I thought that you – nevermind. Perhaps this is uncharacteristically strange coming from me, but you do understand that desperate times call for desperate measures (and desperate requests for help). Feel free to ignore.

Alastair found himself sighing numerous times as he mulled over the words of the message, but he still sent it. To his shock, the Fairchild boy had replied to him.

Carstairs. You’re right, I’m appalled. It was the last thing I expected to happen on this day. Catherine Townsend sucking  up to my mother at the dinner didn’t faze me one bit, I know the woman is vile and I – I’m sorry, I was just rambling. I just thought of the perfect place where you can go with Thomas. We can go there by car tomorrow morning, but we need to meet up early. I can’t come before 7am, as I need my beauty sleep. You woke me up, but I’m willing to forgive you just because I care for Thomas’ happiness and I think he will be enthusiastically taken aback by where I thought you could take him.

Alastair confirmed that the time was perfect and he would wait outside his house in Cornwall Gardens. All the while he was hiding in the bathroom, because fire messages made too much noise and he didn’t want Thomas to wake. He wondered about the place he wanted to take him but decided he wanted to be surprised. Matthew didn't reply anymore, and he hoped that they had an agreement. Yet, it was half past seven and he couldn't see a hint of the blonde bohemian, and he started thinking that he had stood him up.

Alastair didn’t even know why he was annoyed by Matthew’s tardiness. Was he late? He just said not before seven, he didn't – He saw the Ford Model A approach and he massaged his temples. Calm down, Alastair. Do not lose your cool, he repeated to himself. 

“About time,” Alastair said gruffly, but at least he uncrossed his arms off his chest. 

“Good morning to you too, Alastair,” Matthew cheered from behind the wheel. “Bad night?”

Alastair rolled his eyes. In another time, he would have told him to mind his business. But he wasn’t the same person as he was years ago, nor was Matthew. “I could not sleep,” he sighed, remembering all the tossing and turning about last night. 

Matthew, who Alastair wasn't surprised to see wore a golden waistcoat and jacket that matched the details of his car, simply shrugged. “Yesterday's event at the Townsends upset your stomach too?”

He felt like rolling his eyes again. “If Catherine ever becomes Consul, I hope I'm not in London anymore,” he scoffed. 

“The feeling is mu –” Fairchild stopped abruptly and looked up, and Alastair dreaded that Matthew had seen Thomas through one of the lowest windows of the house. 

He turned quickly, relieved that was not the case, and realized what distracted the other from finishing his sentence. “Something is meowing at your feet,” he commented sourly with a frown. Knowing Matthew, it could have been some new customization of his Ford.

“Yes, I haven't forgotten about you, kitties,” Matthew said instead, and he lowered to pick up a box from the floor of his car. “There, there, here we are,” he cooed. He got out of the vehicle and started walking toward the door of Alastair's house.

“What are you doing?” Alastair frowned, glancing at the kitties before Matthew could advance closer and ring the doorbell. There were two of them: one was a tortoiseshell, while the other was a brown tabby. They were probably strays and not older than a few days. 

“We are going to the countryside, Alastair. As much as they would keep us company and stop us from tearing each other's hair with their fluffy cuteness, I think they should stay home.”

“In case you forgot, this is my home.”

“And it can be a temporary home for the kitties,” he said excitedly, offering Alastair his megawatt smile, even though he knew it wouldn’t help matters. “In case you forgot, I do have a massive and lovely dog in my home.”

“Since he is lovely, surely, he must love cats,” he asserted.

“Absolutely, he does. But you understand that I can't leave Oscar alone with them,” Matthew tried to plead his case. He looked down at the kittens mournfully, and they meowed at him. “They’re tiny little things and they’re defenseless. They’re the equivalent of a newborn baby,” he argued. “Would you leave a newborn baby alone?”

“That’s beside the point,” Alastair objected, but the meowing of the kittens alone was tugging at his heartstrings and he didn’t want to admit it to Fairchild. “There would still be no one to attend to the kitties.”

Matthew shook his head as he stroked one of the kitties’ heads. “They wouldn't be alone. Thomas is inside, I assume.”

“Where do you think –” Alastair closed his eyes for a moment out of exasperation. “We're losing precious time. Moreover, in case you forgot, Thomas must not know of my encounter with you.”

“You're wasting time by dragging the issue out! Just leave the box in a room and close the door. I'll get them when we get back and I'll see if I can find them a house.”

“What if Thomas finds them?” Alastair wondered. “You do know that this house is his as much as it’s mine –”

“You think too much, Alastair,” he raised his eyebrows disapprovingly. “Just leave them in a room that Thomas doesn’t like, then. That’s it, I resolved the problem for you.”

Alastair wanted to argue with Matthew, but he was right. Again. He was dragging the discussion out and he was concerned that Thomas would wake up soon and he would look for him, even though he left him a note apologizing. He needed to do this quickly. He took the box away from Matthew’s hands and he made a mental note of the house. 

He realized that the room Thomas never seemed to enter was Cordelia’s old room. It made sense. Even though Cordelia moved out of the house several years prior, Alastair and Thomas thought that for the moment they wouldn’t turn it into something else. Cordelia (and James) used the room when they stayed there when one of their parties went too far into the night and they didn’t want to walk back home. Lazy, if anyone asked Alastair, but convenient for his immediate scope. He left the box on the other side of her bed, and bolted the door. He then ran out of the house as if it were on fire to meet an excited Matthew already waiting in the driver’s seat.

“You know, it would be ideal to keep conversation while we drive,” Matthew quipped a while after they left London behind. “The road is long.”

Alastair barely glanced at him, his hands gripped the side of his seat tightly. “I have nothing to say,” he retorted, trying not to sound too blunt. 

“You didn’t even ask me where we’re going,” Matthew observed, raising an eyebrow at how his traveling companion sat. “You are not going to fall, trust me.”

“What?” he wondered louder than it was appropriate. “Mind the driving, Fairchild. I don’t want to die young and above all, I’d regret perishing in the countryside.”

Matthew replied with a mirthful laugh, and Alastair glared at him this time. “I apologize, I didn’t mean to taunt you, but you make it so easy,” he shrugged. “What did the countryside ever do to you?”

Alastair managed a smile. He remembered another time, another himself. A younger self who was less carefree than he is now. A young boy who could only find solace in going horse riding in Dartmoor and hunting for blackberries. A boy who rejoiced when they moved there for a while, because the pubs and grocery shops were too far from their house, and his father too lazy to look for his poison. A place where he felt they never stayed enough because of said reason. His father’s love for the bottle overshadowed his affection for his family, and that probably quelled the peacefulness of those memories.

“I used to live in the countryside every once in a while,” he confessed to Matthew. The car wasn’t too fast, and he was trying to appreciate the landscape. It distracted him. “At Cirenworth.”

“Oh, in Devon, I see. Cordelia told me about it,” he nodded. Seeing that the other didn’t answer anymore, he continued. “You don’t sound too happy about it, though? Was this place ugly and water leaked from the pipes, your shirts would get drenched and you had to wear a bathsuit your whole stay so that at least, you’d be prepared to get soaked?”

Alastair pinched the bridge of his nose. “You always come up with the most absurd scenarios, Fairchild,” he shook his head. “I am afraid to ruin your fantasy, but no. On the other hand, Devon is an outstanding location and so is Cirenworth. It is immersed in nature and there are many paths that lead to the beach. It is quiet and no one bothers you and you have plenty of space to train in the moor. It was the best place I’ve ever lived.”

“Seems like the perfect place for relaxing,” Matthew assumed, keeping his eyes on the road. They had just passed a sign and he realized they were closer to their location than he thought. “Have you been there recently? To visit your mother and little brother?”

“I’ve been there a few weeks ago,” he confessed. “We had a picnic in the rose garden by the house with Thomas.”

He recalled the memory fondly. His mother and Risa prepared a picnic in the extensive garden at Cirenworth. Zachary had grown so much in the time he hadn’t seen him, and he dedicated most of the time to playing with him in the grass. Thomas had accompanied him, of course. His younger brother grew attached to his partner, and he demanded to sit him on his shoulder because he was the tallest. 

Alastair had a mini heart attack every time Thomas helped little Zachary on his shoulders. He was protective (even though he knew Thomas would never let him fall) but he was also quite mushy. This was a feeling that he had discovered in these years of being in love with Thomas and being loved back by him. 

“I would love to see that place someday,” Matthew smiled, and even if he was looking ahead of him, Alastair knew that he meant it. In all fairness, he even wondered why his sister had never invited him over. 

“What about you, though?” Alastair found himself wondering. “Is there a place like Cirenworth in your life?”

“I had one, when I was a child,” the blond replied uncharacteristically quietly, not meeting his eyes again. Well, he better watch the road. It was barely visible in between the corn crops on either side of them. Alastair hadn’t dared to ask where they were going and now he regretted it. “Fairchild Manor, in Idris. We used to go there on vacation during the summer. I remember thinking that my parents decided to paint the building in a mellow gold hue to honor my birth, but of course, I was deluding myself,” he laughed bitterly. “Aside from this little childhood embarrassment, I felt like we were truly a family when we were there. An ordinary family. My mother would ignore the shadowhunter business as long as we stayed there, and we would play different games in front of a glass of freshly made tea. My father would ditch the experiments and I would push his chair so we could go on long walks together. I even played with that menace that is Charles –” he rolled his eyes, as if he was incredulous. “Those were good times.”

Alastair listened to Matthew’s story carefully, and he was surprised at how similar their happy place seemed to be. The only striking difference, he was sure, were their fathers. He admired Henry Fairchild. He was often criticized for being a man of science, but it was just shadowhunter society closing itself to modernity again, which wasn’t good. If it hadn’t been for him, they wouldn’t have had things like portals. His father, on the other hand… there was nothing to admire, he concluded. He was better off dead. 

The conversation veered on other topics like the weather and how nice it seemed to be. Matthew asked what Alastair thought of the recent shadowhunter happenings in London and they discussed that for a while. Their earlier conversation broke the ice, despite the day being far from chilly. 

As he descended out of Matthew’s car when they arrived, Alastair found himself sweating in spite of the hat he was wearing and a gentle breeze blowing in their direction. Must be the countryside and its air, he thought. Yet, it was the autumn season, and he realized that he was getting antsy and anxious because he was about to find out what his partner’s close friend had thought for them.

“Please do tell me why, because my curiosity is unending,” Matthew said abruptly as they walked who knew where, as there was literally nobody in the clearing facing them. “You still haven’t asked me where I brought you, Alastair.”

Alastair shrugged, trying not to clench his fists in frustration. “What if I said that I trusted your taste? Would you believe me?”

He snorted in response. “Of course I would,” Matthew smirked. “I know I have impeccable taste.”

“Whatever you say, Fairchild,” he replied sourly. 

Matthew stopped, and so did he. Alastair realized that they were almost in the center of the clearing. There were short trees on every side, and small patches of flowers. It seemed like the best place for a picnic and to have a little privacy, but would Matthew drive that far from London – he still didn’t know where they were, but considering the over two hours of travel, he decided they were a little outside of town – to take him to the perfect place to eat on the grass? He wouldn’t know how to get back there again if he did. 

The blond glanced at the clock in his pocket and turned to Alastair. “They should be here any minute,” he spoke confidently, offering him a smile. 

Alastair wanted to ask him who, when something caught his eye. It was barely midday, but there was a shadow invading the clearing. He knew it couldn’t be a demon – it was broad daylight – but his hand still went on his weapons’ belt, ready to grab his spears to attack. His hand went slack when he noticed the source of the shadow: a big hot air balloon. It wasn’t just a regular hot air balloon. It was also propelled by some kind of magic, he assumed, because of the color of the fire under the rainbow colored tarp.

“You look like you were expecting an ambush,” Matthew observed, glancing at Alastair’s astonished expression. “I know, I was also quite surprised the first time I saw one of these up close. Isn’t it fascinating?”

“What?” Alastair managed to say, his mouth gaped open. “Quite,” he added with a sigh. Damn. 

The colorful air balloon descended into the clearing and gracefully landed not far from the two of them. Three people came out of it with happy smiles, along with the warlock, who Alastair didn’t recognize. Matthew walked to the man as soon as the clients left, but he stood there. Immobile until the other took notice that he hadn’t bothered to catch up to him. He gestured for him to come there, and only then, after taking a long breath of encouragement, did Alastair follow, albeit slowly.

“Frank, let me introduce you to Alastair Carstairs,” Matthew told the purple-haired warlock. “He needs to surprise an important person and he thought that your hot air balloon ride would be the best experience that he could have.”

“Sure, welcome, shadowhunter. Anyone of Mr. Fairchild’s friends is a friend of mine,” Frank said. “I don’t usually let shadowhunters ride my balloon,” he chuckled, “but I am willing to help you since you’re a good friend of this handsome fella,” he winked at Matthew, which made Alastair frown. Maybe Matthew knew this warlock personally.

He glanced at his friend. “Well, thank you very much,” he answered with a clipped tone, trying to be cordial. “About that, can I speak to my friend Matthew for a second?”

The warlock shrugged and went towards a small cabin close to the woods that Alastair hadn’t noticed before. Once he was out of earshot, Matthew asked: “I don’t understand what’s wrong. Is it because he’s a warlock? Because –”

“No, absolutely not,” Alastair quickly said. He never had problems with downworlders, and it annoyed him that the other thought that was the issue. “I didn’t realize you were taking me here,” he sighed, “where are we?”

“That’s because you never asked,” Matthew chided, and he had to give it to him. It was the truth. “We are in Hatfield park, in Hertfordshire. Hatfield House is not far from here. It’s where Queen Elizabeth grew up.”

“Good for her,” he snorted. So they were indeed not far from London. 

“You don’t sound too excited,” Matthew said. “Is it the place? Is there too much green? Is –”

Alastair couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m afraid of the heights,” he confessed, ready to be ridiculed by Matthew. 

“Bloody hell,” he replied with a neutral expression. He seemed to be genuinely understanding. “I didn’t know.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Alastair frowned, gazing away. The warlock sat on a chair and was sunbathing. “If I’d only asked,” he clenched his fists. He was angry at himself. “Guess it can’t be helped now. I’ll have to think about something else before Friday.”

“Don’t be hard too on yourself, Alastair,” Matthew tried to console him, something he didn’t expect. “I can tell Frank that regrettably, you have changed your mind, and you wish to go back to London. Simple as that. Trust me, he’s not going to hold it over your head or curse you.”

“Warlocks can’t curse people,” Alastair remarked, tilting his head in the direction of the man. 

“Not the warlocks you know,” he winked with a smile, but Alastair raised his eyebrows. “Fine, fine, you’re right! Must you always be so fussy?”

Alastair shrugged, and Matthew took it as a sign that he wasn’t going to answer and started walking in the opposite direction, where Frank was probably asleep by now. He came back a couple of minutes later saying that the warlock was nonchalant about their decision not to go on with the balloon ride, and to come back if they changed their minds. 

Alastair didn’t talk all the way back to Matthew’s car. He was thinking about the hot air balloon, and how Thomas would react if he took him there. He would love it, he told himself. He would absolutely adore it and talk about it non stop for months. He reckoned Thomas mentioned balloons more than once, when they saw a photograph of one in The Star. He always meant to take him on a ride, but he wasn’t sure he could overcome his fear of the heights. 

He was still thinking about this when they got back to the car, hands clenched into fists on his lap and his eyes fixated on nowhere precisely. He was thrown back to reality after Matthew groaned, which reminded him that they still hadn’t left. He wondered how much time had he stared into space. 

“If you fixed your hair, I think I’m ready to go back to London,” Alastair muttered. 

“I have bad news and good news,” Matthew sighed, his hands crossed on the steering wheel. “Which one do you want to know first?”

“Is this a game? Because I don’t think we have time for those, Fairchild. You better start the car or we won’t even get to London in time for dinner.”

“Well, congratulations! I’m afraid that is the piece of bad news I was going to deliver, but you’re good at guessing,” he chuckled, even if there was nothing to laugh about. Alastair raised an eyebrow, and he continued. “The car won’t start.”

“Say that again,” Alastair said, aggravated. 

“The car is out of fuel. It won’t start. Look,” he turned the keys into the ignition, but no sound could be heard from the vehicle. Instead of the usual purr of the engine, there was utter silence. 

“Out of fuel? Didn’t you get some before leaving?” Alastair tried not to get too agitated.

“I didn’t think I would need more. I thought it would last,” he shook his head in frustration. “Look, I apologize. There’s nothing we can do but wait. I’ve already called for help.”

Alastair scoffed, and crossed his arms on his chest. “Well, whoever you called better come here soon. I can’t lose more time, I’m already running out of time. I shouldn’t have –” but he bit his lip and he didn’t finish. He wasn’t even angry, but he was a little anxious.

“Asked for my help?” Matthew dared to ask. “Kind of odd, I must say, but I thought someday it might have happened,” he clenched his jaw. “And not because I am a connoisseur of the best entertaining experiences Edwardian society has to offer. We both love Thomas, and we both care for him. You want to make him happy, and so do I. Shouldn’t that be the end goal?”

“It should,” he admitted. “And he is. I’m not being cordial towards you just because you’re one of Tom’s best friends,” he said, and Matthew raised an eyebrow. Alastair ignored him. “I do not harbor any animosity towards you because of the car, in case you’re wondering. I’m just angry at myself.”

“Since we’ll be spending a few hours together before help gets here…” he left the sentence hanging. “I have a fine ear that is very willing to listen, in case you need to vent,” Matthew smiled. 

Alastair thought about it for a few seconds. He had already shown Matthew his vulnerable side when he desperately asked for help the night before. He also confessed his fear of the heights, which only Thomas knew about. Telling him more wouldn’t be too confidential, would it? It wouldn’t mean they would become friends. 

“Do you ever want to,” Alastair began, “make someone happy but you know what’s standing between your happiness and them is you?” He said bitterly. “This hot air balloon idea you had, Fairchild, was thoughtful. Thomas had expressed the desire to go on one casually in conversation, but I never dared to follow because of my little fear.”

Matthew’s mouth gaped open in disbelief, but it was quickly replaced by a warm smile. “I do know that feeling very well, yes,” he gazed up at the sky, as if he was longing to fix that but could not. “To be honest with you, Thomas also expressed the desire in conversation with me as well, when I told him that I knew a warlock that had a balloon business,” he pointed out. “This is why I brought you here in the lively Hertfordshire,” he cocked his head. “And yes, I also had selfish reasons. I wanted to ride the hot air balloon myself, but alas, I also abhor heights,” he scoffed. “I was hoping you’d force me to ride, even just to see my face turn green like the countryside,” he added, and Alastair started chuckling. “You see, acrophobia is not that uncommon! Even dashing men like me have fears.”

Alastair tried to rein his giggles. It was unlike him to laugh so freely in front of people in general, if they weren’t Thomas or his family. But laughing was freeing, and it made him feel better. He should do it more. “I never thought I’d laugh about that with you, but thanks.”

“Well, there is a first time for everything,” Matthew grinned. “And thanks for what? You’ll have to find something new for Thomas.”

“You still tried to help me,” he said. “Even though it backfired. I appreciate the effort.”

The sound of wheels on the soil alerted them that whoever Matthew had called to take them back and also bring fuel for the car was closer and approaching. Alastair didn’t know how much time had passed ever since they sat waiting. Matthew kept talking about random stuff – some of it eccentric nonsense – and Alastair listened to him. There was nothing better to do, he told himself, and Fairchild’s stories were amusing. Time had to pass. 

They got off the Ford to meet their savior. Alastair thought it would be James, because he was Matthew’s parabatai, but instead –

“Thomas, my dear,” Matthew spoke before Alastair could, and walked briskly to his friend. “Why are you here? It was Jesse I sent a fire message to!”

Thomas glanced at Matthew briefly, and acknowledged Alastair. He frowned, not used to the sight of his boyfriend with one of his best friends. He seemed surprised, but his eyes didn’t betray much emotion. “I was with Jesse when he read the message and I offered to come instead. He and father had to go out together. Is there something wrong with me being here?” he asked the blond, but he knew the question was directed at him.

“What about James?” Matthew inquired, which was weird. He knew James wouldn’t be in town today, but Matthew had to know that too, since he sent the message to Jesse first. He was catching himself in his lie, but Thomas ignored that.

“James went to see that mundane sport with Cordelia – what’s the name again? Ah, polo, it was polo.” Thomas replied curtly, not breaking eye contact with Alastair. “Whereas I was free. I had to go to buy groceries with someone this morning, but when I woke up, the bed was cold and empty.” 

“Alright, alright, Thomas,” he patted his arm. “I’ll leave you two alone and get the fuel.”

Thomas waited for Matthew to go back to the carriage with which he had arrived, to start speaking. “Why were you two together?”

“He was going to the countryside,” Alastair looked away and sighed. “And I asked him to go with him. He knows a lot of places. Also, I thought I left you a note before I left.”

“You only enjoy the countryside where Cirenworth is,” Thomas replied, rolling his eyes with a grin. He wasn’t definitely angry, just puzzled. And teasing.

“Hamsar-am,” Alastair said. “You know me too well,” he snorted, managing a smile reserved only for his lover. “But I can’t tell you.”

“And I don’t want you to tell me,” he answered with a smile. “I was just messing with you. About the note, too. Which, by the way, was so sweet,” he licked his lips and stroked the side of Alstair’s neck, lingering on his shoulder blade. “We still have to go grocery shopping, though.”

“I would never forget about grocery shopping,” he fixed his gaze on Thomas’ lips and then his hazel eyes, which reminded him of nuts. He loved nuts. “We can go tomorrow morning, since this day is done.”

Thomas nodded, but something caught his eye behind Alastair. “Oh, man. Is that a hot air balloon?” he exclaimed, his hazel eyes filled with excitement.

“Majestic, isn’t it?” 

“And it’s descending down there. Can we please take a look, Alastair? I want to see one up close!” He was giddy. 

Thomas got excited even for the little things like this balloon and seeing him so happy always put Alastair in a good mood. Thomas took his hand and he dragged him to the field where he and Matthew had been a few hours prior. A group of werewolves had just enjoyed their balloon ride, as Frank the warlock was just wishing them goodbye.

“Do you think we can ride it?” Thomas asked, his eyes beamed at the balloon. He didn’t wait for his reply and went to the warlock directly. “Good morning, sir. Do you offer balloon rides?”

Frank turned with a smirk, and eyed Alastair and then Thomas. “Oh, there’s a third shadowhunter. A friend of Mr. Fairchild too, I suppose? Have you changed your mind, then?”

Thomas glanced at Alastair, and he sighed. “Excuse us,” he told Frank, and pulled his puzzled boyfriend away from the warlock until they were far enough. It looked like deja vu. “I asked Matthew to help me last night,” he took a pause, “about your anniversary gift. And he took me here, to a faraway place, because he thought you would like riding a hot air balloon. And he was right,” he managed a tight smile. “You know I’m afraid of the heights,” Alastair muttered. “But he didn’t know that, and now I have to think about something new.”

“Oh, if we are coming clean now, I also asked your mother about your gift,” he scratched the back of his head and looked away, his cheeks assuming the rosy color of shyness. “She told me you love khoresht-e ghormeh sabzi and that is a dish that is usually made during festivities. But you know I can’t cook, for the love of the Angel,” he chuckled, and Alastair raised his eyebrows. One time, Thomas managed to burn a hard boiled egg, but he was getting better. 

“We aren’t perfect,” he said.

“No one is,” Thomas said softly, grabbing his hand. “That is what makes us special. Being afraid of the heights won’t make me love you any less.”

“I’m deeply sorry about that. Perhaps I should try to get past my fear and ride the damn balloon with you, but I don’t think I can.”

“I don’t think I can cook a decent meal either, so I think we are fine,” Thomas smiled. “It isn’t the end of the world. And you shouldn’t if you don’t want to.”

“Are you really sure about that?”

“Positive,” Thomas kissed his cheek. “How about we go back? There is something back home that you need to see.”

“Alright, I’ll be leaving. I left Oscar with the doorman and I need to go back to my apartment,” Matthew announced after he accompanied Thomas and Alastair to Cornwall Gardens. 

Alastair proposed they rode in the Lightwood carriage, but Thomas insisted they went in the car so Matthew wouldn’t have to ride alone. There was barely space for two in the Ford, so the ride back wasn’t comfortable. Alastair’s only joy was that thanks to the lack of space, he had to lean on Thomas, which he didn’t seem to mind. 

Alastair raised his eyebrows at Matthew, who, on the other hand, seemed to have forgotten about the box he had left this morning in Cordelia’s old room. Matthew blinked, probably to make him understand he remembered, but Thomas spoke first.

“No, Math, wait,” Thomas said. “Come, and see what I found too. Perhaps you can help us, since you know so many people.”

Thomas entered the house first, followed by Alastair and Matthew. The two exchanged a quick glance – Alastair was glaring at him, Matthew just shrugged –  as Thomas led them into the living room. Alastair exhaled a much held breath but it was short lived when he heard a noise coming from the wooden table. Meowing. Meowing and a bad smell which he possibly identified as animal droppings. Alastair wanted to run, to fly, to hide, but that was also his home, and he couldn’t.

“Are those… kittens?” Matthew chanced, feigning surprise, when Thomas showed the box to them. “How adorable!”

“As you can see, they are indeed. Two strays,” Thomas took the tortoiseshell in his arms and started petting it. Alastair wanted to die. The image of Thomas with a kitty was too much to bear, but he also didn’t know how to explain why the cats were there, if he ever asked. Which, of course, he did. “I have no idea how they got here, though. I was about to leave for my parents’ house when I heard some noise coming from Cordelia’s room, and I found them.”

“How odd. I wonder how they got there. They mustn’t have possibly crawled so young, and carried the box with them,” Matthew observed, and Alastair would’ve rolled his eyes higher than the ceiling if he could. He never met someone who was able to craft such lies and make them believable in the span of a few seconds. Thomas also made a face.

“Come on, stop joking,” Alastair interjected, looking at Matthew briefly. “I brought the cats here, Tom. They are Matthew’s. But I suppose you already know that, since it would have been quite impossible for them to get in on their own.”

“I knew it,” Thomas said. “Cordelia’s room, really? You know that I never go there. If they hadn’t meowed, I couldn’t have found them.”

“That was the aim, Thomas,” Matthew replied. “I only asked Alastair to leave them here because we couldn’t have possibly taken them to Hertfordshire. I would have brought them to my apartment once we returned.”

“Who said they are going back?” Thomas inquired. “Do you stake a claim on the kitties, Math?”

“I – don’t think so,” Matthew revealed. “I can’t keep them. I don’t intend to turn my home into an animal house. Oscar is enough for me. I planned to take them to the London Institute, since they would have the space to thrive. Even though I don’t think Uncle Will loves cats that much. Maybe, if I asked Jesse, he could convince him –” Alastair cleared his throat. “Sorry, I was rambling. Anyway, no, Tom. I do not stake any claim on these little cuties. Feel free to keep them or give them up for adoption. Just find them a good family who won’t throw them away.”

“Good, because I think I’ve just found them a family,” he confessed happily, eyeying Alastair, whose heart started beating faster in his chest. “What do you say, Alastair? Do you think you can accept these two kitties into our house?”

Alastair felt his cheeks burning. He couldn’t contain his own happiness when Thomas openly talked about them as a family in front of a crowd (there was only Matthew there with them, but still). “There is enough space for two kitties here, that’s for sure,” he grinned, his eyes only for his boyfriend.

“Then they are officially ours,” he looked down at the kitty. 

They ended up naming the two cats Ra and Horus like two of the most important Egyptian gods. This put Alastair in a good mood, and he decided to leave the hot air balloon fiasco behind him. And so did Thomas with the Persian dish.

“I will cook khoresht-e ghormeh sabzi the day after tomorrow,” Alastair announced that evening, when they were on the rug playing with the kitties. “Since it is going to be an important day for us and you’re not going to make that for me.”

“I planned to ask Risa,” Thomas confessed. “But no, I don’t think I can. I will ask somebody to go on the balloon ride with me.”

“Fair enough. My fear shouldn’t stop you from doing these activities, but for the love of the Angel, be careful,” he warned.

“Yes,” he nodded. “Let’s say Ra and Horus are our gifts, what’s that sound?”

“Good,” Alastair smiled, and he couldn’t help but kiss his boyfriend on the rug, the cat making meows of protest. “Let’s hope they don’t develop an Aedipus complex,” he added, and Thomas couldn’t help but laugh.

Fairchild. We decided that the cats, now officially named Ra and Horus, will be our anniversary gift to each other. Just wanted to let you know for no other reason than to thank you. I thought keeping them here was a bad idea, but it turned out better than expected. Thomas says to come with Oscar if you want them to meet so they can be friends. And next time we go to Cirenworth, you could come with him to visit. You don’t have to respond to this message.

Matthew received the fire message right when he was lounging on his bed with Oscar and smiled. Were they friends now? He didn’t know. He just knew that, in spite of everything, he had enjoyed spending a day with Alastair Carstairs and to his surprise, he thought they also had things in common. He would definitely bring Oscar to Cornwall Gardens to become Ra and Horus’ friend and would gladly accept an invitation to Cirenworth. 

Who said that cats and dogs couldn’t be friends?

[houseofbrat]

With the new reporting in the Daily Mail that BP struck a deal with H&M that they didn’t pay rent in exchange for paying back the cost of renovations.

The top comment blames KC3 for this!

Are people really this stupid and blind? The person that deal with struck under was QE2 and she allowed them to renew their lease last year. Where are the comments calling her weak and spineless? Instead it’s all conveniently blamed on Charles who has actually kicked them out!!!

No, I am not surprised.

Yes, people really are that stupid and blind.

Most people just want to scapegoat their angry emotions about this and can't think rationally.

I suspect that Charles & his team were the ones who leaked/supplied Kate Mansey with this info for her story this past weekend. It fits into where Charles will be taking things with the crown estate in the future.

Everyone complaining doesn't seem to realize that Charles has no problem sidelining those he wants to sideline. Charles sidelined Anne, Andrew, and Edward from the Diamond Jubilee balcony back in 2012 when all three were working royals.

I've seen people freaking out about Trooping the Colour and balcony appearances for both the coronation and TTC. No one who is not a "working royal" right now will be on the balcony or in a carriage for either the coronation or Trooping the Color.

But, you know, certain people wouldn't have anything to write about if they didn't treat every news release as if it was DEFCON 2 level of tragedy.

[brw]

I saw your post about Charles Xavier, and I loved it. I hate when Charles is written by as villainous or seen that way by fans; because of his visible disability and one the fact that he's one of the most prominent disabled characters in comics that is being portrayed/seen as evil.

Also, could you tell me about your thoughts on Charles please.

ooooo yeah i do think writers have given charles a VERY short end of the stick... which is weird because a lot of writers after will continue to write him as a kindly old man figure despite the moral transgressions which i think is where most people's frustration comes from. but i do think he's held to a higher standard? like i keep saying it but emma's name is literally white queen + she once stole & used ororo's body against her will + hellfire trading company is very clearly inspired by the east india trading company, but she's a fan favourite. this isn't to say he isn't an awful person at times but for xmen that means kind of nothing to me. anyway, for me personally i just get frustrated because i think there is a good potential narrative here but because writers aren't disabled & don't understand our experiences this context is always missing.

"charles is a spineless liberal" is funny to say but it makes more sense once you think about him as a disabled man who for most of his life was not disabled. disabled people HAVE to make themselves digestible & acceptable for neurotypical society, so we can get the accessibility & accomodations we desperately need. it makes SENSE from that perspective charles would be more about acceptance & assimilation, because from his experience as a disabled man that's what he needs. it makes sense that erik, as a jewish survivor, knows that you can't make peace with some people & it is much better to be independent, to have the ability to defend yourself & to take out the people who literally want you dead, but those aren't necessarily the same goals as the disabled community, at least not for Charles. Him & Erik are a very interesting potential narrative about how different communities have different goals and different needs, but because few writers who touch Charles have disabilities that nuance is often lost & he becomes the spineless liberal we joke about.

Charles also works as a very good discussion on internalised ableism, were people to take him in that direction. Like I said, Charles wasn't always disabled & for much of his early adult life he was able bodied, & he grew up in an ableist society. It makes sense he would then internalise that & project that onto his own students & the way he approaches mutants. because he's so uncomfortable with himself & the way he looks, he's become uncomfortable with the way visible mutants look too because he struggles to separate the two. that would explain in part why all the mutants he chooses to represent the xmen or to go out for press conferences or whatever are all human passing, because of his internal sense of shame that he's projected onto children who don't deserve that.

& that's one of the biggest let downs of the modern era is that Charles automatically chooses to be walking.Yes, for some people that's empowering, but Charles will always be the first name people think of when they think of wheelchair users in comics, aside from Barbara. That recognisability in my opinion is more important, & I just can't help but feel like it would be important to have Charles be with Karma in a character that has accepted their disability & is not interested in changing themselves. Yes, that isn't everyone's experience & I do think it's important for some people who want those stories to have a voice, but Charles has a pop culture iconography that in my opinion is more important than a justification to erase his disability.

Charles is a very flawed person, & I think he should stay being flawed & imperfect & often ignoring other people's needs & opinions that are based around their experiences that he doesn't share, but I think he also does have a lot of potential as a disabled character & I'm very frustrated at the x-office opting to just erase that aspect rather than try and include those narratives. Like Krakoa still doesn't look wheelchair accessible. We could have an interesting discussion about how even in leftist utopias disabled people are still often forgotten about or ignored & erased out of the discussion, but because nobody sees the inaccessibility that discussion just isn't there. It's disappointing & just another item in the long list of how the X-Men team fail to tackle minority politics accurately or at all.

[marvelmaniac715]

This fic is simply called “The Bedtime Story”. I hope you enjoy.

————————————————————-

“What? Oh, a story. Yeah, I can do that, no problem. What story though… I could do Peter Pan… no, way too long, we’re both tired and it’s late. I’m not doing some sappy fairytale crap, that stuff pollutes your mind y’know. What story could I… oh, I know! Okay, I think we can start now, so…

Once upon a time, there was a little boy called Charles Lee Ray. From the moment he was born it was clear that he wasn’t like the other kids. For instance, he was a lot more interesting, intelligent and (in my personal opinion) good looking than the other little brats who went around picking their noses or whatever.

Until he was seven years old he lived with dull, boring parents who refused to let him have any fun. On his seventh birthday he tried to whack a piñata, but people got scared for some reason and poor Charles got told off despite the fact it was his birthday. His saving grace came one night when a serial killer (the Hackensack Slasher to be precise) broke into his house and killed his father. 

Charles’ mother decided that it would be a smart idea to hide in a closet and make unnecessary noise, smothering the boy in the process. But little Charles- god this is weird for me- Charles had snuck a pocket knife into the closet, and when the moment was just right, he stabbed his mother till she fell down dead. A few moments later, the Hackensack Slasher found him and showed him the proper way to clean a knife to cover your tracks, and that’s where it all began.

Charles grew up a bit, and when he was a teenager staying in a Boy’s Home he killed a janitor and chopped off his hand like Captain Hook in Peter Pan. That’s when he met Eddie Caputo, a spineless little rat who would turn on him in the future, that asshole got what was coming to him. But anyway, he ran from the Boy’s Home and lived on the streets for a few years, strangling people and stealing their stuff to pass the time and make money.

As an adult, he’d stalk nightclubs to find girls to kill- it’s always fun to interact with the victims and build a sense of false trust before you see the fear and betrayal in their eyes as you stab them in the stomach- and that’s where he met Tiffany. At first he’d wanted to kill her, but when he tried he realised that she was a lot like him, they had the same interests, that sorta stuff. So they killed the other girl he’d brought to the room together and began dating.

Charles (now Chucky, but that’s not really important) and Tiffany (now blonde, hard to believe she was ever a redhead) moved into an apartment together, and they were happy for a while. But Chucky- still so weird, why did I decide to do this?- wasn’t happy. He fell in love with a woman named Sarah Pierce who had a little girl who was about two or three years old, can’t remember.

He thought Sarah was his true love as stupid as it seems, he wanted to start a family with her and raise her kids as his own. But she betrayed him, called the cops and caused Charles to get gunned down in a toy store with Eddie Caputo nowhere to be seen despite the traitor being his get-away driver.

Chucky put his soul into a Good Guy doll because he practiced (and still practice to this day sort of) voodoo, and that meant he wouldn’t die. He ended up with some kid called Andy Barclay who was honestly one of the worst behaved little brats in the world, and after a few years of torment he met up with Tiffany again. Tiffany became a doll, they got married, all that fun stuff. The next time Chucky woke up he was in Hollywood and found out that he and Tiffany had a six year old son called Glen, and that’s pretty much it, the end. What did you think, good story?”

Glen shook his head fearfully. The little doll trembled in his bed, looking at his father with wide, scared eyes. He’d asked for a bedtime story because in the few instances he’d seen the outside world from his cage in England, he knew that bedtime stories were a good bonding activity between parents and children, and he wanted to be closer to his father. He wasn’t expecting that. Chucky’s face fell, and he sighed heavily, getting to his feet and turning to leave the room.

“How the hell are you my son? It just doesn’t make sense- ugh, this was a waste of time. Goodnight kid.”

Unsettled and disturbed by these revelations about his father, Glen fell asleep.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Scobie's chapter on race in Endgame made me see that he does genuinely care about the firm needing to look like the people it serves and he isn't only doing it for the headlines or because he's in Meghan's pocket - and if that makes me a sucker, so be it.

I too see the world across the spectrum - black and white thinking is a monstrous problem in our world right now. I do think OS has a piece of humanity in him. However, I don't think he is driven by any kind of humanity or conviction. I think he is just as much a narcissist as his partners are. I don't think they are friends. I don't think any of them know how to be or to have a friend. I think they each help the other fulfill their narcissistic fantasies. I don't think OS really gives a ff about racism. Look what he's done to himself. He just wants to be important. He wants to take down W because W saw right through him and wouldn't give him the time of day. He wants to be Valentine Low (or whoever the journalists are who really do have the inside story).

The problem with anything OS writes or does is that he puts himself out there as a true, serious, Columbia-educated journalist who goes to war zones to get the true story. He hides behind that facade. So he is dangerous. Nothing he writes, even if it is true, can be taken seriously.

As for Charles, I've been watching him since he was a young man. He has ALWAYS been arrogant, sad, spoiled, neglected by his parents, weasly, self-involved to the extreme, soft, petulant, entitled, and spineless. Nothing he does surprises me in the least. Well, if he actually did something other than promote himself and his wife/mistress, I'd be shocked. Because he never has in the 50 years I've been watching him.

You also make good points about Scobie.

I disagree slightly with thinking he doesn't give a single f about racism. I think he does care, even if it's only in the context of being something he can needle the royal family with for attention. It may be disengenuous but in order to even care to needle the royal family over it, he has to care about himself, personally, in even the tiniest way.

And you're absolutely right. Scobie presents himself like an Anderson Cooper / Bob Woodruff in-the-trenches kind of a reporter. I was always bothered by how seriously he took himself but now that you've named it, that's exactly what it is.

I didn't actually know a whole lot about Charles before I read Sally's book. (And to be honest, I only picked up Sally's book in the first place because she was speaking in a lecture series near me about the book and you needed to have read the book to go to the lecture.) I knew the Diana version of Charles and what Sally's book opened my eyes to was how difficult it was for him to be "stuck" behind a lot of people even though he was #1 in the lineup. So I have some sympathy for that but it's offset by how spoiled he was by being #1 and his expectation that the world should revolve around him. Likewise, I have sympathy for him being bullied at school and having a hard time at Gordonstoun, but that's offset by my disgust that he tolerated a toxic workplace by giving Michael Fawcett (who was a bully) a pass.

[evermorehqs]

CATCHING MY BREATH, STARING OUT AN OPEN WINDOW

Vidia Şahin is based on Vidia from Disney Fairies. She is a 24 year old fairy, student pilot, and uses she/her pronouns. She has the power of fast flying, aerokinesis and whirlwind control. Vidia is portrayed by Afra Saraçoğlu and she is taken.

CATCHING MY DEATH, AND I COULDN’T BE SURE

Vidia was talented. The best of the best. As a fast flying fairy, she was among the rarest and at the top of the ranks, and it was something she was immensely proud of. And, unfortunately, something that was often looked over. While she was sure that the seasons literally depended on her, as there were groups of fairies that could play with light and sprout flowers from the ground and so few that could do what she was capable of, her powers weren’t quite as flashy as the others. No one cared that she could outrun the wind and soar higher than they could even dream and, oh, did that piss her off. Watching other fairies receive praise for what seemed like the simplest of tasks while her efforts went unnoticed and underappreciated, the negative feelings built and festered until they came out in snide remarks and little bursts of anger, especially when Talia Belmont was around. Her entire existence felt like a personal attack to Vidia. She was only an outcast because she made herself one, though, and eventually, somehow, even though she would deny that she ever wanted it... she became a part of the girl’s friend group. When they went missing, all of them all at once and then some, it hit Vidia harder than she would have thought. She went to all of their houses to track them down, she asked their coworkers, she searched the outskirts of town and when they were nowhere to be found, she started to get worried. They may have very well been the most annoying group of girls she’d ever met, but she ever so unfortunately cared about them. If something was wrong, she couldn’t leave them out there. Not to mention... she could only imagine how popular she would be for pulling off such a rescue. No one would ever overlook her again. She packed for a week and headed out, determined to find them. And she did. In some random little town, lost and confused... and trapped. Once she flew into the borders with them, there was no leaving. That was where caring got her. She was annoyed and low on pixie dust, but she could never give up flying, so she applied to be a student pilot. At least she can still soar circles in the sky until they can find a way out... and remind herself to never again do the right thing. 

I HAD A FEELING SO PECULIAR

❀ GoGo Tomago: She’s hot, she’s fast and she can dish it right back. Did she mention hot and fast? Vidia wouldn’t say she has a crush on her, but she wouldn’t say she doesn’t, either. ❀ Charles ‘Chuckie’ Finster: The most annoying person she’s ever met, shockingly even more so than Talia, but for different reasons. He’s spineless, and she just knows he will never get anywhere in life if he doesn’t snap out of it. ❀ Mertle Edmonds: She’s a ruthless bitch, and Vidia loves it. Everyone she knows is simply too nice. Pushovers. Mertle is the perfect person to balance out her friend group.

THAT THIS PAIN WOULD BE FOR EVERMORE

[silentreigns]

The long Drive to Survive season 5 review nobody asked for

Overall it was a good season. I wish there was an episode dedicates to Aston Martin, Williams, and Alfa Romeo because I feel like the media doesn't give the small teams that's not Haas the attention they deserve. I also could have done without races like Silverstone being covered multiple times in different perspectives. Also good on them for not making any of the drivers be portrayed in a negative manner. We got Guenther, Binotto, and Christian for that

It's interesting what they omit from the stories they did decide to tell. For example, they were covering Max and Redbull in Singapore and how the team was 'struggling' that weekend. But they conveniently forgot to mention that Checo was leading the race for like 99% of the time and he won. Also in the episode covering Abu Dhabi, they mentioned that Ferrari was fighting for 2nd in the constructor's championship, but not the fact that Checo and Charles were tied in points in the driver's championship.

Not to mention barely mentioning the Brazilian GP, like that weekend deserved an episode for itself. I gotta say that was my favorite race of the season and the energy on social media was so much fun. I just wished it was reflected in documentary. We can speculate why the decided to omit what happened in the GP, but so many firsts happened I just wished it was highlighted more.

I'm happy they didn't discuss Suzuka that much outside of Yuki because I'm not trying to see Pierre relive his trauma. Like that was alright for me.

I'm glad Binotto got sacked because bro cannot take accountability for anything to save his life. We could have gotten "Charles LeClerc you are the world champion" season if it wasn't for him being a spineless idiot 😭😭😭. Poor Charles I hope Ferrari gets their shit together for real like I'm trying to see a world champion that's not a Red Bull this year.

I think my favorite moment was when the principals were in a meeting. Toto and Chrisitan were arguing like it was reality tv and I was living for it. If they weren't team principals they would make good characters on shows like Big Brother or Real Houswives.

I'm glad Alonso is leaning into the villain persona and I feel like some of the other drivers would benefit more from not being people pleasers. As in not showing hesitation or remorse whenever they say something that's not exactly media friendly. I also know this is easier said than done and that none of the drivers will change personality wise within a season.

Also can they just bring Daniel back to the chair even though he's not on the grid???? Like they can just let him talk about anything and I'd be happy. The next season is gonna be so empty without him for real 😭😭

[leqclerc]

I really cant see Charles anywhere but ferrari, that man bleeds red and as you said at mercedes they have george and rb have max, there arent many other top teams beside these three so i really dont think he's ever going anywhere

Yeah, that's the "problem", I guess. He's been dreaming of this since he was a small kid. They signed him on to be part of the FDA, put him through the junior series (which he won on his first attempt), they integrated him into the larger Ferrari family, had him visit the garage, observe how the team works from the inside, visit the factory, do track walks with Seb, etc. In a way he was "made" for this, as much as a driver can be.

A lot of people are upset about Ferrari's recent attitude precisely because to them Charles embodies what Ferrari is and I guess should be. He's passionate, he's determined, he's talented, he has a lot of love for this team and the people behind it. He's their own. He's the first of his kind, an FDA kid turned full-fledged Ferrari driver. He always speaks so highly of the team, even when harsher criticism is probably in order, and on his end I don't see him wanting to leave, at least not until he achieves one title with the team. Whatever is transpiring at the team this year is unprecedented and unexpected and I think he's as caught off guard by all of it as we are. And I'm honestly glad that those rumours of another extension (until 2026) have since been dispelled. We might still see him staying beyond 2024 (unless an amazing wild card opportunity opens up at some point) but I hope he can at least negotiate harder and set better terms for himself. If they sign him for another few years only to continue clowning on him like this while other drivers are making actual progress in their careers and are actually helped to any possible WDCs by their teams (as they should be) then it's not going to be pretty.

I think the sad part is Ferrari usually got seasoned drivers - often champions - like Fernando or Seb. Things usually soured, the title bid didn't work out for a variety of reasons, but that didn't take away their titles. Charles is in a completely different position. He came to them with nothing but eagerness and ambition and a bone-deep desire to win a title with Ferrari. So the idea of them squandering his chances of winning not another but his first title is incredibly upsetting. 😭

I want him to stay at Ferrari, I do, but I also want this to be a team worth staying at. A lot of people have been saying that if it's between Binotto or Charles going, then it's the TP who has to walk. They got a lot of shit for chopping and changing their team and having a high turnover rate in terms of TPs and staff (Seb himself admitted that most of the people he worked with when he first joined the team were no longer there by the time he was leaving) and Binotto was supposed to be the solution to that, bringing stability and a new, better "vibe" to the team, but personally I've never trusted or believed in him; I find him hypocritical, spineless and generally not a capable leader. Maybe he was better off in his previous role, back at the factory. The strategy department could probably do with an overhaul, too... 🤔

[thefingerfuckingfemalefury]

I really didn’t think I could despise that worthless waste of space that calls itself Charles Xavier more than I already did but this weeks issue of X-men proved me wrong

I mean I already fucking hated the repulsive spineless garbage that is Charles Xavier and despised basically every single thing about the character from his ideology to his personality to the way he treats every other character he’s ever interacted with 

But this just took that hate to a whole other level

I hope that Mystique rips whatever she needs out of his head to bring her wife back without his consent

Right before she rips his head right off of his new body and ends his life permanently

I so badly want the upcoming Inferno event to be Mystique getting what she wants and killing Xavier. Both because I adore Mystique and have always rooted for her every time she’s appeared. And because Krakoa will be much better off without Charles Xavier infesting it in his stupid looking robot hat

Xavier is without a doubt one of the worst things to ever happen to mutantkind and Krakoa will be better off with him gone forever.

The most unrealistic thing about Age of Apocalypse wasn’t the energy monster in bright orange armour or the shape shifting mad scientist that looks like Dracula or even the magical reality warping crystal.

The most unrealistic thing about Age of Apocalypse is that it seriously tried to claim the world would be worse off without Charles Xavier