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purplebass · 2 years ago

Note

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?

#tsc #tsc fanfiction #tlh #alastair carstairs #matthew fairchild #thomas lightwood #thomastair #alastair and thomas #the last hours #chain of thorns #chain of iron #chain of gold #tsc fan fiction #tweety.writes #tweety's celebration #posta

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houseofbrat · 2 years ago

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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.

#ask #Daily Mail #real estate #charles haters #queen elizabeth ii #BRF fandom #The Circus Generating Machine also known as Fleet Street #crown estate #Kate Mansey #trooping the colour #operation golden orb

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marvelmaniac715 · 2 years ago

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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.

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evermorehqs · 2 years ago

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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 open.

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

#disney roleplay #magic roleplay #afra saraçoğlu #disney fairies #vidia #female bio #has powers #open bio #open female

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silentreigns · 2 years ago

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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 😭😭

#f1

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brw · 2 years ago

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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.

#asks #itsblueberry13-blog #charles xavier #krakoa #i just feel like theres a lot of potential nuance & story in a character like charles #but again it just feels like the xmen office are just incapable of understanding them #& i love wiz-kid & his story hes great i dont want people to think im ignoring him #but as ive said if you ask the average person to name a fictional wheelchair user charles is one of the first names you will hear #his most iconic iteration is as a wheelchair user! that status in pop culture is important! it shouldnt be erased or ignored!!#just bothers me #professor x

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shyrose57 · 4 years ago

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Brothers anon, sorry I've been gone for a while. To be honest I found out about Pokémon Uranium and I've been playing it non-stop for the last few days. And now I have a massive brain fart and can not remember a certain event in the story for the life of me for some reason. I know it happened I just don't know what happened.

14: They'd both roll into a ball and if you throw them fast and hard enough it'll be like playing bowling! It happens when their all asleep, and about a month after Foolish. It happens because while everyone else is sleeping, Ranbob isnt, as he just cant sleep. So he's sat just outside the cave they stopped in, staring at the stars. When Raq sneaks up behind him, originally he planned to get Ran by using a mix of posion and slowness, but upon seeing Ranbob he takes advantage and gets him instead. So he shots him with a slowness/fatigue arrow and when Ranbob eventually falls asleep, he comes and gets him. Because he wants Ran though he leaves a message in enderian, then takes Ranbob to a camp with a few other hunters.

Ran is pissed and acts impulsively, though his anger is used to mask the desperation, horror, and sadness he feels. Everyone else are also mad yet scared, and are stuck between immediately going to help or taking time to come up with a plan. Specifically between Watson, Isaac, and Benjamin wanting to wait to come up with a plan. And Grievous, Cletus, and Jackie wanting to immediately go rescue him. While Charles focuses more on making sure Ran doesnt run off without anyone else...which he does anyway. They eventually settle on planning but that's ruined when Ran runs off and everyone has to scramble to wake up and follow after him.

They get him back within a week actually so very fast. They get him back by Ran running off to the camp he had seen remains of eailer (it looked like a often camped at spot so it makes sense to check there) and since he got there at night no one saw him. Which gave him a chance to look around and find where Ranbob was. By the time the others caught up to him, the sun was rising and he was running to hide in the forest. They spend the next day observing the camp and what everyone does, then that night they launch a suprise attack where Ran manages to grab his brother and run away. Though he does get shot.

In the aftermath Ran is poisoned with the same stuff his currently barely lucid brother is, and barely manage to get them to a safe spot. Where the others eventually find them and take to watching over and eventually grabbing them and running futher away. And when their finally in a safe spot and the brothers are awake and left alone, theres a bit of a heart to heart between the two that allows each to tell their side of things, and opens tons of doors for them. The heart to heart ends with them both apologizing and hugging, and at a later time (not sure when yet) during the night they comfort eachother and end up sleeping next to eachother.

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

Not super often, but it comes into play for little stuff. Like the entire group is just mining when Ranboo just runs into a gaint vein of emeralds. Oh yes, he actually walks into a lake to get something he dropped when suddenly he's in extreme pain. And while the others treat his burns his brother is just silently disappointed that he didn't know he couldn't go into water. Ran knows well enough to avoid it from his time alone, Ranbob after the above accident tries to avoid water but forgets at time, while Ranboo will avoid water he also is the kind of person to just step into water because he can (its like that moment in one of his streams where they where talking about lactose intolerance people and how they just chug milk because they refuse to let natural selection take them.).

Stealing items (which will get them almost killed), hiding things from people, the typical putting their bedroll over a hole, pushing Phil into water and running from him when he emerges pissed, etc.

They have 3 main ones 1. Something malfunctioned with Karl's time traveling watch and sent all of them back to a time already visited, and because of the malfunction the watch as almost completely broke, leaving them stuck until its fixed. 2. Dream is behind it since he's in both worlds and found a way to break the time barrier and sent them back so they wouldn't get in his way. 3. God hates them.

They do! Because they are stuck in the future. And because everything else that used to cause the anger and sparks the fights are gone now, and any current existing spite or problems between people are put on hold so they can find out how to escape. And with those factors out of the way they manage to actually talk and get to know eachother.

I like to think that Techno and Phil have never gotten along with Dream (the only reason Techno ever worked with Dream is because it was for a common goal/interest, and it took more priority than killing eachother), and want to kill him for multiple reasons (Tommy, Wilbur, Ranboo, Fundy, etc) and will gladly take any excuse to kill him. The fact Dream went this far to harm this many people makes them disgusted and determined to finally follow through and kill him. There no real start to the ire between them all, they just never liked Dream from the start and all he's done has done nothing but depend it. Brfore knowing their reasons for being hesitant, their mad that Tubbo and Karl are even hesitanting in killing Dream. But after their explanation for their hesitation, everyone actually freezes and realizes, "Oh shit their right." And instead start to plan to find a soild way home first that won't collapse on them, then kill Dream. Which is easier said than done.

He said what I said last time with the Technoblade stuff. But he also just kinda yelled at them about how Ran needs to stop ignoring evidence and how Ranbob needs to stand up for himself. He also empathizes that they need to think of how the others view this all, how it affects them, how they focused solely on themselves and now need to start focusing on others.

Also you got a cat? May I see cat or no?

Pokemon are always awesome. Is the game any good? But good to have you back, Brothers Anon.

14: They could make a game out of it, when they're bored. Ill-advised, but certainly an interesting time!

Why does Raq know Enderian? How's Ranbob's time at the camp, if he's even aware of it, since you said he's out of it? Ran gets shot? If Ranbob's barely lucid, how does it effect Ran? How does that go, with both of them out of it?

They hug? Does Ran admit he was worried? Do they do this when they're more lucid, or no? How's the morning after this whole show go?

-----------

Can you imagine how everybody feels? They're mining for hours, Ranboo, five minutes in, comes out with half a stack of emeralds. The confusion, the bewilderment. Beautiful.

Ranbob: Oops, dropped something.

Water: *burns him*

Ranbob: *shocked pikachu face*

*Months later*

Ranbob: Oops, dropped something-

They just? Walk into water sometimes? Good lord, their poor groups. Imagine having to try and keep your endermen friends from taking a tip purely out of spite.

It sounds like these guys have more of a death wish than anything. Pushing Phil into water is just asking to die.

Pfft. God hates them? Who proposed that one? Hilarious image that invokes. They're all just sitting in a circle, throwing out ideas, very tired. Someone throws out theory number three. Everyone agrees immediately.

Very nice! Are we getting more found family here?

This implies Techno to be fairly closer with the mentioned people, if he's angry with Dream for what was done to them. What's his relationship with them all in this AU?

How does that whole thing go, with them originally being upset with Karl and Tubbo? Is it something that just comes out immediately, and is quickly resolved, or is it something that rolls out over the course of a few days?

Ranboo has very good advice, but also, like? Mr. Typically And Possibly Literally Spineless telling his descendant to stand up for himself? How did his group react to that?

Here is the kitty in question, Muff.

She's very energetic, but she plays a bit rough, and keeps gnawing on my fingers.

#Brothers AU #dream smp #dream smp au #tales from the smp #ranbob #ranboo #tubbo #technoblade #karl jacobs

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joachimnapoleon · 5 years ago

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Hello, What were the opinions of the people who personally knew Murat? Thank you !

Murat tended to inspire strong feelings--both positive and negative--in those who knew him. He had a knack for rubbing people the wrong way and making enemies; I feel like I've said this before at some point on my Tumblr, but it's true: Murat wasn't everyone's cup of tea. At the same time, those who grew to love him, stayed devoted to him for the rest of their lives, like his childhood friend Agar who served him in Naples, or his former chief of staff General Belliard. I wouldn't necessarily go so far as to say "you either loved him or hated him," because I've come across enough instances of people who knew him closely who held a balanced (or conflicted) view of him, but he could be pretty polarizing.

That being said, there are a lot of common themes that spring up repeatedly in the recollections of those who knew him. His vanity and ambition. His bravery. His softheartedness. His dislike of corporal punishments. His susceptibility to flattery. His pride and flirtatiousness. His love of his children. His emotional volatility. His indecisiveness. His lack of moral courage. His frankness and generosity. And of course, his love of outlandish uniforms. It's not unusual to see nearly all of these come up at some point in the accounts of him from both his critics and admirers.

Here are some of my favorite remembrances of Murat, by those who knew him.

***

Murat was a good man. He was dashingly brave, and possessed military talents together with a great desire to please and to be admired. He sought to have good manners and overdid them. One saw by his exaggerated dress and his attentions to the ladies that he wished to resemble the Villarceaux and Sévignés of the days of Louis XIV. These famous courtiers were the models he had chosen, but the rough hearty republican could not be completely hidden, and the mixture of the two opposite types of character would have been ridiculous at times if one had not been conscious of the honest, frank soldier in the background who reconciled the puppets one to the other. Consequently, in spite of his male and martial beauty he was a far less dangerous person than he imagined. He had an excellent heart, a mediocre mind, and the rise of his fortunes had been too rapid not to have slightly turned his head. Ambition without those qualities which justify it is a despicable thing, and only really great men can make it into a virtue. The ambition of Murat was a result of his good fortune, and after being a distinguished general he became a second-rate monarch.

-Hortense de Beauharnais, The Memoirs of Queen Hortense, Vol. 2.

***

Much has been said of this truly extraordinary prince; but only those who saw him personally could form a correct idea of him, and even they never knew him perfectly until they had seen him on a field of battle. There he seemed like those great actors who produce a complete illusion amid the fascination of the stage, but in whom we no longer find the hero when we encounter them in private life.... What, so to speak, idealized him was his truly chivalrous bravery, often carried to the point of recklessness, as if danger had no existence for him.

-Recollections of the Private Life of Napoleon, by Constant, Premier Valet de Chambre, Vol. III, 1900, pgs 207-208.

***

The King put new blood into the public administration, not merely by the activity and firmness which he exerted, but by his practical anxiety to give a proper direction to public affairs. The natural clemency of his character, which even conciliated those who were least likely to be moved by it, facilitated the execution of his intentions.... Had Joachim better known how to organize his army, and to maintain discipline between the French and the Neapolitan troops, he would have succeeded in obtaining far better results. By nature generous, and by no means insensible to flattery, Joachim was extremely averse to inflicting punishment, and was prone to recompense not merely those who merited it, but to reward others whose conduct should have entitled them to very different treatment. This happened, because he could never resist the supplications of the courtiers, still less the entreaties of the ladies about the Court, and like all princes, he was extremely liberal to those whom he termed mes devoués, without reflecting that the less elevated man is by nature, the more devotion he affects to princes, the more he flatters their power. The beauty of his person, the charm of his smile, the natural urbanity of his manner--to which, however, he was inclined to add more importance than was consistent with his proper dignity--and the richness of his dress, pleased the multitude and the army, although self-reputed sages laughed at this last display, and pronounced it ridiculous. The affability and gentleness of his manners, which were such as could not have been anticipated from a man of low birth, endeared him to the Court.... Murat was a Charles XII in the field, but a Francis I in his Court. He would have regarded the refusal of a favour to any lady of the Court, even though she were not his mistress, as an indignity.... Unfortunately for him as well as for our poor country, Murat fancied himself extremely sagacious in the art of kingcraft, and above all, that he alone could manage his affairs in the then intricate political state of the times. I do not mean to imply by this that the King was deficient in a certain sagacity; on the contrary, he could at times reason very aptly, and according to the opinion of his minister, Giuseppe Gurlo, who was a man of no ordinary stamp of mind, the King when in council often reasoned in a manner far superior to any of his ministers.

-General Guglielmo Pépé, Memoirs of General Pépé, Vol I [Pépé served under Murat in Naples]

***

Fouché, who had a fairly good relationship with Murat, describes him in his memoirs as "a brave and noble-minded general, but a king without any firmness or decision in his resolves," and as a man who "always overstepped moderation."

-Memoirs of Joseph Fouché, Vol I (English translation, 1825)

***

Posterity will certainly blame King Joachim for some political errors, which in the end were the cause of his own ruin; but his goodness of heart, his frankness and generosity, command an affectionate remembrace. As a warrior, he became an object of veneration to all nations, from the Arab of the desert to the Cossack of the Don. He was loved even by his enemies, and would have been adored throughout the kingdom of Naples, without any exceptions, had not his officers and functionaries sometimes acted at variance with his intentions, and disgusted some classes of the people by vexatious stretches of authority. One of his foibles was, an incapacity to punish; and this, like an analogous failing in parents towards their children, engenders laxity and disobedience.... His desires were those of a King, but his mind was too much that of a soldier; his heart was that of a warm friend to mankind, and was, as said of the gigantic Sir William Jones, "even bigger than his body."

-Memoirs of the Life and Adventures of Colonel Maceroni, Vol II, 1838, pages 348-9. [Maceroni was one of Murat’s aides-de-camp during his reign in Naples]

***

(And the last few are from Napoleon. Because there really isn't any one quote from Napoleon that really suffices to sum up his feelings on Murat, but taken all together they provide a pretty interesting picture.)

***

He has a good heart, and at bottom he likes me better than his lazzarone. When he sees me he is mine; but away from me, he sides, like all spineless men, with anyone who flatters or makes up to him. If he had come to Dresden his vanity and self-interest would have led him into countless follies in trying to manage the Austrians. His wife is ambitious, and has stuffed his head with foolishness. He wants to have the whole of Italy; that is his dream, and that is what prevents him from wanting the crown of Poland.

-Napoleon, as quoted by General Armand de Caulincourt in With Napoleon in Russia: The Memoirs of General de Caulaincourt, Duke of Vicenza, pages 39-40.

***

Murat was the man most cowardly of character; he was only good under fire: there, he was sublime!

-Napoleon, quoted by Montholon in Récits de la Captivité de l'Empereur Napoléon à Sainte-Hélène, Vol II, 1847.

***

Murat was endowed with extraordinary courage, and little intelligence. The too great disproportion between those two qualifications explains the man entirely.

-Napoleon, quoted in Memorial de Sainte Hélène: Journal of the Private Life and Conversations of the Emperor Napoleon at Saint Helena by the Count de Las Casas, Vol II Part III, 1823.

***

Who is there who doesn’t know of Murat’s wild courage, and who would not believe that a warrior like that has a soul of steel, an indomitable character? Well, there is not a softer, more gentle creature in private life, even more weak at times. If in camp he receives a letter from his wife, he cries like a child. But at the sound of cannon his head is up, he rushes out and throws himself into the fray–on the battlefield that Achilles has twenty elbows.

-Napoleon to Molé, as recorded by the Count of Mosbourg in Murat: Lieutenant de L'Empereur en Espagne 1808, page 73.

***

Thanks for the ask! ^_^

#Joachim Murat #Napoleon #Memoirs of Constant #Memoirs of General Pépé #Hortense de Beauharnais #Joseph Fouché #memoirs #asks

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leafallsonelines · 4 years ago

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Bizarre Love Triangle

I'm not sure what this could mean I don't think you're what you seem I do admit to myself, that if I hurt someone else Then I'll never see just what we're meant to be -New Order

I didn't want to get into a relationship.

He wore me down and soon enough I was the one crazy about him. I always answer to the undefinably strong pull toward a certain person. I was soul weary and needed a break from emotional turmoil. When you meet somebody else, they're the main character of their own love story (just like I am in mine; as it should be). I'm privy to fact that we all have a history, especially when dating in your late 20's and 30's. I wasn't ready for our stories to collide.

I desperately wanted to avoid cluttering my life with someone else's relationship baggage when I haven't even taken care of mine. He campaigned hard for the relationship. I went for it.

Despite my better judgment I always cave—give in to that desire — anticipate and absorb the pain that inevitably follows.

I told you that story to tell you this one.

Back in 2014 the term Cool Girl ™ was coined to describe women who change their personality for male approval. (The shtick is contrived and annoying once you spot it.) She doesn't have a solid sense of self and basks in attention to fill. That void; hoards men like Thanksgiving hams and gets territorial when she's not The Girl. She gets kicks from seeing how uncomfortable she can make other girls by openly flirting with their boyfriends just to watch them squirm. This act is so played out most people have an eye roll ready for anyone flying the “I'm not like other girls” banner. (Gen Z now calls them Pick-Me-Girls ™.)

I crossed paths with one in 2018 — my boyfriend's best friend of sixteen years. A self-indulgent, selfish friendship. I wasn't initially jealous, didn't interrupt, and it came back to bite me; it was hideously unfair.

For storytelling purposes let's call her “Kate Luu.” Kate, an incestuous tigermom who gets jealous of any girl her son gets with, a petulant toddler that would rather break a toy than let someone else play with it. Probably has BPD. Definitely needs a good therapist.

Like a lot of dewy eyed girls newly in love I conveniently dismissed the red flags around my boyfriend and Kate. I had empathy for them because of my past platonic friendships with flirty undertones. Guys would respectfully fall back when they got into relationships or if I Was in one. I struggled with the slow withdrawal of warmth, missed the emotional intimacy, but recognized it as the right call and moved on. A lot of young adults exploring their sexuality go through this. As I got older I favored female friendships for being uncomplicated, preferring to avoid unwanted sexual tension.

Empathy without boundaries is self-destruction.

A couple weeks after celebrating our one year anniversary Kate texts me, “We need to talk.” Alarms immediately go off in my head. The last few months I had started bringing attention to the bad vibe I was getting and the inappropriate nature of the relationship. I got tired of biting my tongue. He didn't know how to process it or correct it. His lingering infatuation with her made it impossible for him to distance himself or enforce new boundaries. He started hiding it instead. I caught him being intentionally ambiguous about his plans when going to see her. He fumbled himself into an emotional affair.

Princess Diana famously described her marriage to Charles as “crowded.” It was an unmistakable reference to his affair with Camilla. Looking back the (justifiable) anxiety I had was from being crowded. Intuition is not insecurity.

I met Kate for coffee and she read aloud a pathetic five page letter telling me I'm a bad girlfriend and “full of shit.” She was intervening on his behalf as the person who knows what's best for my boyfriend.

“It's none of your business.”

But no, she has the authority to interfere as his best friend of sixteen years and I was a one year nothing. She brought up the fact he was attracted to her first, told me I'm spineless and ruining their friendship with my insecurity. (She _really _ran with the words spineless and insecure.)

Accusations are confessions when they come from a manipulative person. Textbook projection. She was mad her narcissistic supply was tapering off. (Gaslighting Pro-tip: Label rightful jealousy as insecurity.)

My boyfriend gave her personal, intimate details of my life during their oversharings and she used that information to bully me. Nothing was off the table, including my sexual history. I can see how she manipulated him, but it was inexcusable. People who enable They leave the door open for endless rows of inappropriate behavior. All of this was happening behind my back for a year. That kind of intimate toxicity are suckers for ego massages.

Don't you just love a story where the villain puts all the evidence of her misdeeds in one letter and unravels into epic, illogical rage all in one afternoon, in the space of two hours?

How did Kate have time to write five pages of false narratives designed to destroy a relationship she was jealous of? She doesn't have a job. She's a pampered dog mom living in her rich fiancé's house for free. A busybody performatively taking care of other people to avoid a mountain of personal issues. (An unevolved Virgo.)

Don't worry about what I'm doing. Worry about why you're worried about what I'm doing.

Kate has many noticeable traits as an obnoxious, self-important person — an absolute fake. She calls herself a _philanthropist _without having done anything philanthropic or even knowing how to use the word; she literally saw a big SAT word that means good person and attached Herself to it. (A word assigned to big charitable donors like Bill Gates, not bloggers). She has the same relationship with the word “unconventional” and thinks using a bigger word for unique or quirky makes her even more unique and quirky. Nope, still basic.) In place of possessing any actual humor she repeats memorized dad jokes and leans into corny, forced puns. If this isn't annoying enough she then insists she's funny. (Funny people just make you laugh. They never have to tell people they're funny. Barfs in, “I speak fluent sarcasm.”)

If I poked a finger through her shallow veneer I'd find loose dirt and dog shit.

And you know what? I'm not even against intense friend love. I get it. I groove to “One Love.” Emotional freedom is important. Expressions of love are multitudinous. It should transform to fit the situation. She didn't respect basic boundaries to make room for all of us to be comfortable. She was just mad she got demoted and tried to burn the whole thing down.

Kate wanted to be the main character in my boyfriend's love story without ever actually dating him. Oh yes, I know — the audacity, the toxic lack of boundaries, the mind numbing arrogance. She's not even protagonist material — a papier-mâché hipster who got her personality from an Urban Outfitters catalog and can't stop contradicting herself despite the fact she is working off a pre-written letter. I have never encountered someone who thought so highly of herself while having almost no substance. She calls herself a writer , but is just a pseudo-intellectual English major who posts aesthetic word salad on Instagram.

Later on I realized that if someone is mean to you unprovoked it's jealousy. One of the catalysts for the meetup was a heartfelt anniversary post I wrote on Instagram. It's not my usual style, but I felt gushy and really went full blown poetic and swoony She's jealous that her own, brought up love and Birth of Venus, blah blah blah. She mentioned my IG post and even admitted it was poetic and well written, but proceeded to use that as the jumping off point to invalidate the love in it. writing is try-hard drivel; a woman in her thirties mentally stuck in 2011 tumblr cringe.

If she truly wanted him she should have pursued him honestly and not wait to mess with another person. Hell, even just owning up to her feelings and saying, “I realize I may have lost my chance with you. Is there still anything in our sixteen year history that makes you want to give us a shot instead? ”à la My Best Friend's Wedding. Treading some moral gray area, but way more acceptable than actively sabotaging a relationship.

She didn't really want him though. She just wanted to continue their friendship in that inappropriate flirtationship space to feed her ego. After the coffee date she ended their friendship in an email. That really important sixteen year friendship became disposable to her once she wasn't able to control it.

Sometimes trash does the public service of loudly identifying itself as trash and takes itself out.

If you're a female best “friend” to a guy in a relationship and you need to flex on “I was here first” and “We did this before you were in the picture,” then you were never interested in seeing that friend thrive in a romantic relationship. You just get off on being his favorite unfulfilled option. If seeing him in love with someone new has you feeling that miserable you're just being selfish. Real love doesn't overstep in a new relationship so you can hog their spotlight. You're not even a friend; you're a skunk marking your territory and keeping him in the friendzone while not really wanting him to have a girlfriend.

You learn to love somebody in their love language and not just yours. Selfish love is not real love. That's just using someone to fill a place. Maybe a distraction. Seeking anything in return isn't real love because if you want that you actually don't have love to give; it's fake; it's toxic. If there's someone who isn't around anymore and you miss them consider the fact that you might just miss the place they held in your life. (You have the freedom to fill that space anyway you want.)

She realized she burned through all her goodwill thus the sudden ghosting and extracting herself. I never asked my partner to pick me or issued any ultimatums. Sometimes important questions stay unanswered. Sometimes you have to move on without the apology you deserve. There is grief in never receiving closure.

My partner finally saw my concerns validated in the aftermath. I bubbled with rage remembering excuses he made for her. Day in and day out I was drinking from an overflowing cup of righteous anger. So what was his role in this? Stupid or co- conspirator?

He was oblivious.

“I can't believe you could've left me for a wannabe influencer.”

I switched my phone wallpaper from his picture to a solid color. Looking at his face filled me with disgust. There's only so much letting go you can ask someone to do. I knew I still loved him, but anytime a woman is hurt she becomes less interested.

How do you recover from unknowingly letting a toxic bitch walk all over and jeopardize your relationship?

Friends told me to move on, date other people. He campaigned for the relationship again. We did the work of picking up the pieces and starting over.

I'm not pretending to be perfect. I was reeling from back to back traumas. My soft spots turned hard and cynical. It was my turn to be the toxic one. I drove to work sobbing everyday for a month. I complained constantly. My default became anxious and suspicious. I'm so out of touch with the person I was before; she's a stupidly innocent, free-spirited stranger to me. It took time for the poison leach out.

It's a lot of baggage.

The couples who make it aren't always the ones that never had a reason to break up. They're the ones that decide their commitment to each other is more important than their mistakes. Fast forward to the herculean effort he made to earn back my trust and we're still very happily together. (This is published with his permission.)

Our relationship is more grounded in reality now. It's not crowded anymore. Somethings more precious from having almost been lost. Somethings will never be the same. I'm the villain in her story, just as much as she's the villain in mine. We get to live out our own endings and there is peace in that.

Hurtful, painful, memories. Memories of deep regrets, memories of hurting and being hurt. Memories of being abandoned. Only those with such memories buried in their hearts can become stronger, more passionate, and emotionally flexible. Only those can obtain happiness. So Don't forget any of it. Remember it all and overcome it. If you don't overcome it, you'll always be a kid whose soul never grows. -The Boy Who Fed On Nightmares

#coolgirl #pickme #microcheating #emotional cheating #emotional affair

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