#And angst *ahem*

[xia0ming56]

If you're taking requests, Erasermic with short hair? Love your art!

Aaa i missed drawing them 🥹 sry for the wait! I swear i was gna leave it as a sketch but then i got carried away n added some colour💀 hope u like it!! :D

[rystiel]

i feel like a fish swimming against the current in a river of angst enjoyers as someone who wants to make those characters happy for once

[skeletoninthemelonland]

Springdad funfact !!! This is him before and after having a family. Bro got fluffier over time :]

[ricky-mortis]

Curtwen Week Day 2: Chimera

[emmyrosee]

Dabi is better as a memory.

He told you from the beginning to never fall in love with him, it was dangerous and too risky for you to do. He’s loved very seldom times in his life, love was a sham and nothing he was willing to provide for anyone, lust being the quick and easy patch for affection he’d occasionally need.

You were broken when he’d found you. He liked it like that. You were quick and snappy and rude to him, but it drove him more and more wild each time you’d bite. He’s a creep, he liked the way you sent him glares and eye rolls at his flirts.

He liked the way you’d finally caved, the way you’d given him plenty of fight rather than submit to his deviously dominant ways, making him work at every little demand you had to keep you satisfied.

But then you fucking did it.

You fell in love with him.

It was a slow slide, he knew it from the subtle ways you’d act from the nonchalance of first meeting; your arms clinging to him a bit more when he tries to leave, setting up an extra plate in case he came in for dinner- he might’ve done it all of twice, but you accidentally let him know you did it all the time.

Then it became him wanting you, craving you, desperate for the way your fingers weave his hair and grip at the root when he’s got you in euphoria. Eager to curl behind you under warm sheets. Rub your sore back and dodging a swift smack when his hands may wander.

But the he moment you’d let him in, take him and his ugly love in every crevasse of your soul, he knew he was in too deep. Dabi knew that emotionally, there was barely room for himself in his rotten heart.

He’s not so criminal to take and corrupt yours.

You’re good. You’re too good. You’re so good it hurts him, so good he can’t stand coming over some nights, so good that you could have any person with a pulse who you wanted, yet you chose for the absolute ugliest the world had to offer.

He can’t do that to you. He feels the way you try to cling to him for warmth when he first comes in. He knows you hate saying no to your friends invitations to hang out when he’s over- they never liked him, but to be honest, he wouldn’t spit on any of them if they were on fire, either- but it always meant you were missing out. The way you patch up his wounds and scars at ungodly hours of the night, it’s not worth it.  He sees the way you look at him after a fight, eyes swelling with tears he had no right to conjure onto you, and the way you creep towards him in a desperate plea for forgiveness you never had to beg for- even if he made you.

For a man with nothing to lose, except for you.

You’ve had enough of his lonely love, even if you don’t know it yet.

Even if it’s the hardest thing Todoroki Touya is going to do, he needs to leave you as heartless and loveless as Dabi could.

He needs to leave you. Shatter your heart into tiny pieces where you hate the mere reminder of him, where someone new can take the patience you deserve to puzzle the shards back together.

It has to hurt you. Nothing less than the worst to make you hate him more than he hates himself. 

The light from your alarm clock is dark, but he can just barely make out the red lights of 03:24; a little later than he wanted, but you were so warm, so comfortable he didn’t want to wake you up.

You toss an arm over his torso, and he cringes because he knows it’s the last damn time. Your cheek nuzzles into the scarred skin of his chest, and even if he knows he shouldn’t, slender fingers gently stroke the warm skin of your shoulder. 

You’re so fucking perfect when you sleep, your mind and body restoring the heartbreaks of the day.

He sniffs the air for courage. He blinks up at the ceiling he’s already killed countless spiders off of, the dark remains dried on the plaster. Your blankets never felt heavier, weighing him down and drowning him like rocks tied to his ankles.

All the while, next to him, you grunt in your sleep, resting easy.

He looks at the clock, brows furrowing in frustration as he’s already spent three minutes doing nothing.

Fuck. It’s time.

Before he changes his mind like a fool.

His head pounds as he takes the agonizingly slow sit up, the darkness of your room just barely mapping out a path he can take to sneak out the fastest. His arm slips out from under your head, and he lets out a tight breath when you roll onto your stomach.

With a soft sigh of relief and a nuzzle of your hair, he pulls the blankets higher on your shoulder so you keep warm, his rough hands smoothing down your back to soothe you into an impossibly deeper sleep. You smell sweet, you always do. Dabi prays to whatever entity to at least allow him to keep the memory of your addictive aroma in his mind.

He balls his hands into fists and stands up with haste, grabbing his jacket and trying his hardest to tiptoe silently out of the bedroom.

A floorboard creaks. The gods clearly don’t want this to be an easy task.

“Touya?” You whimper, and he winces at the familiar name that passes your sleepy lips.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Whe’ ya goin’?” You ask, voice still drunk with sleep and warm against the cold air, and he furrows his brows and snarls internally at the knowledge that you know he’s leaving for somewhere.

He wanted this to be a simple band-aid rip, a quick flurry of anger and tears, before succumbing to your scorn for his mere soul.

“Goin’ to piss,” he lies, shuffling back over to the bed to plant a kiss to your temple. “Go back to sleep.” He hears you hum happily, and you curl deeper into the pillows. He grits his teeth, fingernails biting into his palms as he lets out the quietest and most genuine “I love you,” he can muster. It’s not something he says often, but he may as well say it before he leaves your life for good.

“I love you, too,” you murmur back. You don’t ask or tease him about the random confession, nor do you seem to question it, and he decides to use that to his advantage. He takes one more long, selfish inhale of your addicting scent before working up the courage to push up and off the bed, long fingers scooping his coat once again before tiptoeing down the hallway.

Trembling fingers find the small amount of stationary next to your fridge, and he scribes a small little note so you can have the smallest bit of closure. He hates doing this at all, but it’s for the best.

Keys in the mailbox. Didn’t want someone comin in to steal you.

Im sorry. But you’ll be happier.

TT.

He tries not to imagine the way you’ll crumple to the floor and cry. He tries not to imagine the way you’ll spend days pleading, asking yourself what you did wrong when he knows it’s all his fucking fault. He doesn’t want to think of how you’ll now put every guy who wants you against him; he knows you’ll always put him on the highest tier.

He’s done so much already.

His shoes lay long discarded by the door, and he gnaws at his lip when he toes them on. He heart aches for you, the life you could’ve had, and he can only pray to whatever will listen that you can go back on the path you were supposed to take before he crashed into your life.

Until then?

He hopes you can despise him for doing this to you half as much as he does, himself.

He toes on his shoes. Takes one more longing look up the stairs. He shrugs on his coat and takes the spare key to lock up. 

He walks down the driveway that you’ve run down to greet him so many times. He places the key in the mailbox he helped fix when little rat-ass kids hit it on their bikes. He takes another look up into the window the peers into your room where in a few hours, you’re going to sob and shake and plead and scream and ask the air why he’s gone and if he ever even cared, where you’re going to call him the most obscene names and taint every single memory you share with your heartbreak.

He soaks it in.

And then he walks down the street.

And he doesn’t look back to see the light in your room suddenly flick on.

-

@reverie-starlight IM NOT SAYING I RLLY WANT YOU TO READ THIS FOR ME BUT-

[nymexyl]

Raaa I dislike this in multiple ways but I gave up fixing it so I just decided to post. Enjoy the baby angst

Why are his glasses missing? Simple, in this AU he doesn't have them yet (and also they make him look like a grown ass man and hes a child here😭) what about his red forehead dot thing? Uhh. Reasonable lore explanation and I totally did not forget.

Anyways! For context, this is part of the fic version of the Masked AU. I was gonna make a short comic for it, but i got too ambitious, and so the angst taxes took a toll, and now you get only this much. Have little guys hugging because they're all each other have in their small world. They r future spicynoodles in this AU:)

[nmoroder]

zombiezombiezombie

[prostocupoftea]

*hug Kinito*

YOU SOOOOO CUTE!!!

Thanks, seems like he needed that (:

[blaiddraws]

[first] [previous] [next]

Emmet's.... having a time.

i need to stop going really far into shading random panels it's,, taking time. it's FUN but it takes Time 😔

[boltlightning]

May I request James Norrington & Governor Swann + 57. Sacrifice?

57. sacrifice

“…and though I hate to leave Port Royal as it is, laws suspended as they are,” Governor Swann says, arms crossed tightly behind his back as they recess on the quarter gallery of the Endeavour, “it is the price I have paid to see her—and you, mind— safe again.”

Safe. Norrington grips the rail before them and considers the price he has paid for his own security. He lifts his eyes from his sunburned, white-knuckled hands to the wake of the Flying Dutchman’s warpath in which they sail; Davy Jones has been hard at work, hunting and destroying so many pirates under Lord Beckett’s yoke.

Governor Swann looks at Norrington without seeing him, occupied with his own sins, and asks in a low voice, “Is…is there a chance she lives, James?”

“We can only hope,” he says hoarsely, though he cannot bear the thought of seeing Elizabeth again, and forces himself to watch as the mast of another ship sinks beneath the bright ripple of sea foam to the depths.

send me a prompt, get a drabble! ✨

[kheyys-worms]

Mungkinkah, mungkinkah (Could it be, could it be) Mungkinkah kau mampir hari ini? (Could it be that you've stopped by today?) Bila tidak mirip kau (If it doesn't look like you) Jadilah bunga matahari (Then be a sunflower)(Gala Bunga Matahari - Sal Priadi)

Edit: made a little change to satan's sunflower

[chaosduckies]

Restoration (Chapter 10)

I cut this one a bit short since I want the next one to be long. THAT’S where I’m deciding to put the TWO scenes I thought of. It will make you cry, and at the same time make your heart melt. Anyways, enjoy!

Word Count: 3.1k

CW: Witnessing a birth, mentions of death, That’s all for this one!

10-Ryker 

Everything was going downhill. 

There were warnings everywhere around the neighborhood I lived in. That humans living here should find a place to stay on the human side of the city. The riots were getting out of hand. Of course that was something to worry about, but I was really just worried about one other thing. Where would Lucky and Angela live? 

They can’t stay here. If those people come around and they find them, I don’t think I could ever forgive myself if something bad happens. It was better if I find someplace for them to stay. Away from the people that want to kill them. I was not about to let something bad happen to them because I kept them here. 

I had talked with Jasmine, and she said we should take down all of the elevators and hide the human room in case someone decides to barge into our house looking for harbored humans. It was smart, but it might take a while to get rid of all the elevators. There were a lot. I still didn’t have a place for Lucky and Angela to go. 

Nathan could always… no. That’s asking too much. Taking care of my own siblings? I couldn’t ask him to do that. I’m sure his mom doesn’t want two other people to look after either. I really didn’t know what to do. Maybe if I ask? No. Nonono. No asking. I’m sure Nathan already has his own problems to deal with. I can’t put more stress on him. The movie last night was great until I thought he would be fine if I just grabbed him. He absolutely freaked out and I didn’t know why I even did that. So could he really handle a four year old who absolutely loves hugs and a fifteen year old who is just so full of energy and loves playing sports. Is that a good combo with someone who was wary about being touched and hates the cold weather? No. I don’t think so. 

I groaned, leaning against the kitchen island and burying my head in my hands. What do I do? I can’t just give them to some random person! What if they hurt them or something worse? I guess I could always call Lucky, but what fi they take away his phone? 

There was small giggling from in front of me. I picked my head up, seeing Angela holding up a picture she drew. Of course I can barely see it when she’s standing so far away, but I just forged the best smile I could and scooped her up. She giggled even more, hugging the stuffed panda Nathan had given her. Speaking of… I need to find him a gift. 

“What is it, Angel?”  

“Lucky told me we have to leave. Is that true?” She pouted. Nothing goes unsaid in this house. Everyone finds out eventually. I would of had to tell Angela sooner or later. Or at least before she had to leave and go live with someone else for a while. It might actually be harder for me to watch them leave. 

“I’m sorry, Angel. I just want you to be safe.” I apologized, but she only hugged what little portion she could of my thumb. Like I said, she loved hugs. 

“I don’t wanna go thoughhhh.” She didn’t let go. I sighed, lightly pressing the back of my finger up against her back. I smiled softly, “You’ll miss me?” She nodded her head, finally letting go as I pulled my finger away. She was jut a kid, I can’t tell her that some people want to kill her just for being born. That would be bad. She wouldn’t understand yet either. 

I set Angela back down on the counter, watching her take the elevator back down probably to go see what Jasmine was up to. I still remember the day she was born. Everyone was shocked. Mostly my parents, but I remember being excited to have another baby sister.

——————

We could barely hear the crying. The doctors stared in shock as they held the tiny human-sized baby in their palms. Mom was barely conscious while dad was telling her how beautiful she was. None of us could see her face. She was too small. Isabelle was asleep on the couch, Dylan and jasmine stood there shocked at the events that just took place, meanwhile, Lucky was smiling. He was going to have a human sized sister. 

The doctors told the news to our mother, who was even more shocked than us. They carefully handed her the tiny life that had immediately stopped crying after she was safely in my mother’s hand. Mom had started crying happy tears, cooing at the extremely tiny baby she was holding. 

“It’s rare, but happens. The baby is completely healthy and otherwise normal.” The doctor smiled, reading off the clipboard. I walked closer, the doctor moving out of my way so I could see. She was so tiny. Maybe the size of my fingertip. I smiled, letting out a sigh of relief. 

“Say hi to Angel, Ryker.” Mom laughed, a shaky hand reaching to the infant. Angel? I liked that name. 

Soon enough everyone was gathered around the hospital bed. Mom didn’t let the younger ones hold her, only Jasmine and I and Lucky since he was a human. When it was my turn, I swear I heard a tiny little giggle escape the baby’s mouth. I smiled, looking in awe at how tiny she really was. Adorable. 

Angel was passed back to my mother, who held her all throughout the night. We never once heard her cry at night. Not at all when she was a baby. We needed some help to get her baby clothes since none of us could fit in a human-sized store except for Lucky, who was barely eleven at the time. Dad asked a few work friends, who were happy to help. When they weren’t around, mom had to use a pipette to feed her. One tiny drop at a time. 

——————

Mom loved her so much. She kept on saying that she was an angel, so that’s what her name would be. Angela. We call her Angel because that’s what mom called her. She really was an angel though. Mom never had a hard time getting her to sleep, feeding her, rocking her. Even if she was so much bigger than her own daughter. 

So, I was not about to let anyone just watch her. We were all so protective of her because of how she was brought into the world. Supposed to be a miscarriage, but here we are, with a happy little sister. I couldn’t let her see the bad part of life yet. It would make me a terrible older brother. 

As for Lucky, I didn’t want him to go back to a place where no one wanted him. Where he was afraid. The adoption center we found him in treated him badly as he was the only human there, so I was just glad I convince him to come with us. Now look at him. He was glued to Dylan and wasn’t scared of anything anymore. Could I let him go back to that terrible place? No. I will not be at any point in time. 

Nathan was my only choice. I didn’t trust anyone else, and I couldn’t let them stay here. Plus, Angel and Lucky like him. I doubt Nathan is able to physically hurt someone anyways. It was my best option. Now I just have to hope that he’s okay with it. 

I picked up my phone, and texted him. 

———Nathan———

My phone went off. I was in my room finishing off one of the books the librarian recommended to me. I picked up my phone, stuffing my bookmark where I left off and checked my messages. 

Ryker: Sorry for bothering you so much lately, but I have a hugeeee favor to ask you 

I already knew what he was going to ask. After what we saw on the news last night, I’m sure he was looking for a place Lucky and Isabelle could be at. Assuming I was the only other human he knew besides his own siblings, I was probably his best bet. I don’t mind though. Lucky and Isabelle are both my friends so how could I say no? 

Nathan: You’re not bothering me :) 

Nathan: What’d you need?  

Ryker: Could you maybe watch Lucky and Isabelle? Just until this whole riot thing blows over 

Ryker: You don’t have though 

Nathan: It’s fine! 

Nathan: I kind of expected this after last night 

Nathan: Let me just make sure my mom was okay with it 

Ryker: TYSM you’re the best 

I laughed, placing my phone back on the desk by my bed and heading into the living room where my mom was finishing up some papers for work. She smiled when she saw me walk in. She took the day off to finish up her work and stay with me. School was cancelled until after Christmas break because of what happened last night. The riots were getting out of hand, and people nearly died. She just wanted to make sure I would be okay at the house alone. Apparently I wouldn’t be alone all that much this time. 

“H-hey mom,” I started, “Ryker asked if his human siblings could stay here. B-because of what happened last night. He doesn’t want them to get hurt and he just asked if they could stay here for a week or two?” 

She smiled softly, putting her pen down, “Of course! You sure it won’t be too much on you? You know I’m working all week.” I nodded my head. If I can take care of myself and my mom, then I’m sure two others won’t be too bad. Plus, I’m sure my mom has some tips for Angela. She absolutely loves kids. 

“Alright then, I can’t wait to meet them!” She cheered as I walked back to my room. I knew she would say yes, I just had to make sure. It’s nice to know I can start slowly repaying Ryker for everything he’s done for me. This was just one small, insignificant way to repay him. 

Nathan: Yeah they can come! When though?

Ryker: Ummm in about three hours? Bus stop? 

Ryker: I don’t want go at night and I want to get them as far away from here as possible

Nathan: Sure! 

Nathan: I’ll be waiting

Ryker: Thank you so much  

Nathan: Anytime :D

Three hours wasn’t that long. I could finish my book and get ready to head out. I don’t know if my mom would want to come. Probably not since she’d most likely have some kind of greeting for them. Maybe she’ll just summon a gift out of nowhere. She does that sometimes. I’ve learned to never underestimate her when it comes to gifts. 

I finished the book, ending with the main character presenting his portfolio while also reflecting on everything that’s happened to him. His brother died, his other brother was broken because of it, he had to be the one to fix his family, and he did it. I liked it. It was a sweet ending. I still had about an hour and a half left until I had to go pick up Lucky and Angela. What should I do in the meantime? Well the first thing that pops up in my head is to bake. Because of course it is. It’s my main coping mechanism and it’s easy to do when you’re pretty good at it. 

Walking into the kitchen, I grabbed everything I needed for just some basic cookies, measured everything up, mixed it, and put it in the oven. My mom had appeared out of nowhere and sat down at one of the stools. 

“Smells good.” She smiled. I smiled back, taking a seat in the stroll next to her. 

“Everything alright, Nate?” She asked. She knew when I bake it’s because something is wrong. Today though, I was just doing it for fun. Also because I didn’t want Lucky and Angela to come without me giving them something. I’m just trying to make a good impression. 

“Yeah. Just making them a little gift.” 

“You care a lot about Ryker, don’t you? I mean, you are taking care of his own siblings for him,” She started, placing a cold hand on my shoulder, “He sounds like a nice friend though.” 

I nodded my head, “He is… I’m just trying to pay him back. F-for everything.” I started playing with my hands. I’m no longer as scared as I was before I met Ryker, I’ve been able to have someone to talk to, I’ve had the experience of actually having a friend, and I feel bad that I can’t give him anything back. 

“Nate, buddy, a good friend doesn’t ever ask for something in return I hope you know. You don’t always have to pay him back.” She advised. I sighed. I knew that… but I wanted to do this. It was the right thing. Was I just about to abandon his siblings to be left in that neighborhood where people were practically trying to weed out any and all humans on their side. 

“I know. But it’s nice to know that I’m at least helpful in some way.” 

My mom patted me on the back lightly, making me sit straight up and offer a nervous smile. She muttered a sorry before heading back to the living room to finish her paperwork. Five more minutes until the cookies were done. I couldn’t do anything else for Ryker except do what he asks me to. I mean, that’s what it means being a human right? You can’t do anything for anyone if they’re not the same size as you, yet a giant can give so much to a human, and still give more to their own people. Wait… Why was I thinking so hard about this?I didn’t even expect Ryker to give me anything. Ah. I’m spiraling again. 

I took the pan out of the oven, seeing the perfectly golden-brown cookies. They smelled delicious as always.  

——————

I waited by the bus stop, constantly checking the time and immediately stuffing my hands back into the warmth of my pocket. I can’t wait to get home, get under the blankets, and cuddle near the heater. Weird? Don’t care. I’m freakishly cold right now, and it was only getting closer as Christmas came around the corner. 

Ryker came into view, a sad look on his face. Right. Parting ways with his siblings he’s lived with his entire life. Why do I get the feeling Jasmine was going to threaten me again? I shuddered at the thought, but smiled and waved as soon as they had stopped in front of me. 

There was no way in heck that I was ready to see Ryker standing up to his full height from the ground, so I just focused on something else. The many cracks in the sidewalk, how many pieces of grass stuck in between the cracks. It helps. Only a little though. 

First up was the goodbyes for Angela. Jasmine was slightly crying, but she wiped those tears away. I knew they were close. Isabelle had hugged Angela up close, and then Ryker and Dylan all gave her a makeshift hug. Angela ran up to me, giving me a tight hug. I only slightly jumped, trying to seem comfortable around Ryker’ siblings. I admit, the ugly bothered me, but was I just supposed to deny a four-year old child a hug? I remember when I was little that was all I wanted. 

Dylan joked around with Lucky before letting him down on the ground. Lucky waved a goodbye to everyone. I was kind of surprised that was it. Then again, he was fifteen. I doubt he’d want his own siblings embarrassing him in front of me. I wouldn’t think anything of it. Not like I don’t do anything embarrassing all the time. 

“Thanks again. You didn’t have to.” Ryker thanked me, giving his best smile. I couldn’t help but catch the way the edges of his mouth twitched. This was hard for him to see them leave. It would be hard for me too if you only had your siblings left in the world and now they had to leave because it wasn’t safe for them. Maybe they don’t trust me all too much… If that’s the case then I was their only hope. 

They had all left, except for Jasmine, who crouched down and brought her face close to me, a mean and annoyed look on her face. I let out a quiet squeak, backing up. Lucky just stood in front of me, shaking his head. He doesn’t have to defend me- 

“If I find out that they even have the slightest little bruise, I’ll murder you.” She promised, standing up and now joining the rest of her siblings. A shiver ran down my spine. 

“Ah don’t take her seriously. She’s a real softie once you get to know her.” Lucky patted me on the back while Angela grabbed his hand. Yeah… Only joking he says. I think she means it when she gets that close to me. 

We walked back to my house where my mom handed them a plate full of my cookies, which they both gladly took and ate in the matter of seconds. My mom sat with Angela in the empty room playing, “tea party” with whatever stuffed animals Angela brought. Meanwhile, Lucky and I were watching a movie on the couch in the living room. 

“Thanks,” He started, I picked up my head, “Ryker told me about what happened last night. When he tried to grab you I mean.” 

I looked down at the floor. I still feel bad about it. Who wouldn’t? He wasn’t even trying to hurt me and I just… Agh. 

“You’re not afraid of him in general, right?” He asked. I quickly shook my head. He could never purposely scare me. It’s what he can do that scared me. Not to mention that I sometimes get those terrible nightmares which make everything a million times worse. So, no, it’s not Ryker I’m afraid of. 

“Well, all I can say is that you’ll feel better if you tell him about whatever happened to you. I know from experience. He’ll help in any way he can.” Lucky flashed me a smile, then continued to watch the movie. 

Would he really though? Anytime I’ve ever told someone and they tried to help, they just give up on me about two weeks in. What’s so different about this time? That it’s someone my age? I think that makes it worse. 

But, maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea… maybe I should? 

———————————————

Ahhh oh how I love when it ends with a rhetorical question. Will he? Will he not? Hahaaa I can’t wait to post the next chapter. (I’m crushing my own soul with this one) :D

Thank you for reading!!!

(Also, WHATTTT two chapters in the span of 24 hours?? Impossible)

[doctorwyvern]

sigh yeah

[thetarttfuldickhead]

Uh, so, I saw this kickass piece of fanart by @thwipped and whoops, innit:

---

If caught and asked about it, Jamie couldn’t have explained why he did it.

Actually, no. Scratch that.

He could have explained, probably. He just wouldn’t have cared to.

---

The way it goes is this:

He’s been with Richmond for a couple of months and haven’t those been the longest fucking months of his life, because yeah, ‘course it’s fun being the best fucking player on the team, ‘course it’s fun hearing the fans chant his name, doo-doo, doo-doo, doo-doo, and getting a bit of rest from his dad ain’t bad either, but Richmond is a shit club with a shit manager and the only fucking bright spot—

Well. That’s turned out to be shit too, hasn’t it.

At least Jamie’s killing it, at matches, at training, every fucking time he steps onto the pitch. No one can fucking touch him, dominating yeah, and today’s been a good day for it too, what with the photographer on the sidelines snapping picture after picture for some promo or other. Jamie didn’t pay too much attention to the details, just made sure they got him from his best angle (every angle’s his best angle), and that’s that, until a couple of days later when he walks past Hopkins’ (or Huggles’?) empty office and sees the photos spread out all across the desk.

And well. ‘Course he steps inside to have a look. Bound to be a bunch of him looking fit as fuck, right, and who doesn’t want to see that, and maybe he can grab one for Keeley, bet she’d love it.

There is a bunch of him looking fit as fuck, no surprise there. Difficult to choose the best one really, they’re all fucking brilliant  (‘cause he’s fucking brilliant), and he’s deliberating between an action shot of him about to score one of the prettiest goals this sad fuck of a club ever saw and a shot of him afterwards, chin raised against he blue autumn sky like a hero out of a movie or something. Gorgerous, innit.

And then his eyes fall on a picture of Roy.

A picture of Roy fucking Kent. And. Like. It’s not even anything special, not like Roy’s actually doing anything in it, it's just a stray shot of him caught unawares with his shirt raised to wipe the seat of his forehead and he’s—

He’s. Uh.

Fuck. Jamie stares and he stares and he stares because for all that his old attraction to Roy didn’t survive five fucking minutes of actually being in the same room as the man, that’s just—

The shorts riding low on his hips. The dark hair trailing down and down, and the glistening drops of sweat on his forehead and Jamie can fucking smell him and that’s not sexy, is it, except it really fucking is, and those arms, and something unguarded and vulnerable and the real Roy Kent is a royal cunt but the Roy Kent in the picture—

He’s something else, isn’t he. He’s fucking fit. (Okay, the real Roy Kent is that, too, but it kind of fades in the face of him being an insufferable old twat and all that.)

Jamie grabs the picture. Doesn’t let himself think too much about it. Shoves it in his pocket and walks away, feeling it burn, burn, burn against his side.

---

When Jamie was twelve his mum gave him a poster of Roy Kent and Jamie was over the fucking moon. When Jamie was twenty-three he met Roy Kent and Roy Kent glared at him with unmitigated disgust and okay, fuck you too, mate. You’re not even that good anymore, and still you expect everyone to fall at your fucking feet, do your fucking bidding and make like you’re the fucking king, and fuck that, the king is dead, old man; long live the king.

Thing is, looking at the picture now it’s not that hard to forget about the real Roy Kent (nasty bastard) and remember the Roy Kent (fucking legend) that looked down on Jamie from his bedroom wall and whispered encouragements in the back of Jamie’s head and, a little later, featured frequently in fantasies of a different sort.

Picture in one hand, cock in the other, Jamie wanks to Roy for the first time since he came to Richmond (and if it’s not all just the memories of the man he once imagined, if it’s a little bit tinged with dark looks and growls and Roy snarling his name like it’s an insult… Well. That’s nobody’s business, that.)

---

He keeps the photos in the bottom drawer in his bedroom and he doesn’t pull it out a lot, ‘cause there’s Keeley and she’s fucking fit and the sex is mindblowing and Jamie doesn’t need to gawk at pictures of sad old has-beens to get his rocks off.  

Sometimes there’s a different sort of itch, though, and he scratches it. No big deal.

(He wonders sometimes, what the real Roy would say if he knew. Plays it out in his mind, all the different ways it might go. Cums as he imagines it.)

He thinks maybe Keeley would like the picture too. Not ‘cause she’d like Roy, she’s got way better taste than that, and she’s fun and she likes a bit of fun and if there’s one thing Roy Kent ain’t, it’s fun, innit. But he’s fit and all, and Keeley’s got eyes.

He imagines it, sometimes, the two of them getting off together over the picture. If Roy – the real Roy – wasn’t such a miserable old prick, he’d suggest it to her maybe. But Roy is such a miserable old prick, and the whole thing is way too complicated to explain, so he doesn’t.

Then Keeley dumps him and the dream was only ever that.

---

They send him back to City. Jamie doesn’t understand. One moment he’s sharing a bottle of tequila with Dani Rojas and taking up the Richmond chant and Jamie’s not wrong and for the first time he wonders if maybe there could be something for him here, and the next he’s woken up by his agent and that same evening he’s back in Manchester like he never left, only the stale air in the house he bought with his fifth paycheck tells him he did, and the numb sense of loss as he steps through the door tells him he did.

It’s months before he gets everything from London shipped and sorted. Busy getting up to speed with everything at the club and all. It’s good to be back, really, a proper team, a proper coach, all that. Dad starts getting in touch again, sure, but it is what it is.

So yeah, it’s months before he gets all his stuff unpacked and months before his fingers brush over something familiar and he stands there staring down on the picture or Roy and it’s odd because it seems like only yesterday he first saw it and it seems a lifetime ago.

A rush of lust – Pavlovian, right, Keeley? – but a rush of something else too, rusted barb wire tugging at his guts, sharp and sickening.

He looks at it for a long time and then he puts it away and this time he doesn’t take it out again. That’s over and done with.  

(Only, he doesn’t throw it away either. Just lets it sit in a neglected drawer, ignored but never let go, like all the other things that must never be.)

---

(There’ll be a time, some years later, boxes packed and moved and unpacked and an old photo slipping to the floor and

what the fuck is this?

and

what’s that, babe? oh my god, you look hot! fucking hell! jamie, where did you even get this?

and

when did you get this? i’m still playing here

and

uh, well, you remember that photo shoot they did for the promo just a couple of months after i joined richmond?

and a raised eyebrow and

yeah?

and a shrug and cheeky grin and

yeah, well, picked it up for darts practise, didn’t I

and Roy snorts but he’s smiling too and

figures you’d be shit at darts

and

what are you on about, man, i’m aces at darts… ooh, because there’s no holes in it you mean, yeah, no, you’re right, you’re right, i’m shit at darts, fucking terrible

and they’re both smiling now and Keeley is too and Roy notes how it’s clearly been handled a lot and what were you doing with it really and the glint in his eyes says he knows but Jamie tells him – tells them – anyway, in great, great detail.)

[insomniphic]

When it snows in hell, you call them “ashes”.

@beartitled’s part on being a “great” parent to their Narry.

[stormbreaker-290]

Rosy has been spookified

WOUHG!!!!!! :DDD

Ouggghh spooky lil guy hdjxhsjxbd

Dude the witches hat instead of a nightcap is genius ebebebebebebe