#and roy is just. beard can you fucking ask me what you’ve been wanting to ask for the past 20 minutes

[coachbeards]

i need everyone to please picture the conversation between beard and roy when he was asking roy to be his best man

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Autographs

Fandom: Ted Lasso

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x GN!Reader

Summary: You’re the social media manager for AFC Richmond’s socials. You’ve been seeing a trend of asking players for their autograph so you decided to try it out with your team.

Ted Lasso Masterlist

You hold your phone up as you peek into the locker room. All of the boys are dressed so you enter with a grin on your face. You keep a stack of papers close to your chest as you quickly head into Coach Beard's office.

"Hey, coach, training doesn't start for another thirty minutes, right?"

Beard checks his watch and nods, "Affirmative."

You nod, "Cool. I'm going to film some content for the socials then," you turn to Roy, starting with you. You press record and hold out a picture to him, "Can I get your autograph, coach?"

"Fucking hell," Roy grumbles as he sees a younger version of himself staring back at him, "Where the fuck did you find this?"

"Did some digging. Love the curls, by the way," you hold out a marker and Roy glares at you. He still scribbles out his name on the photo, handing it back to you, "There. Now fuck off."

You snicker, "Thanks a bunch!"

You exit the office and zero in on your boyfriend, Jamie. You waltz right up to him with giddiness. He smiles up at you as he finishes lacing up his boots. He stands and pecks your lips, "What's with the look, babes?"

You hold out a picture of a small Jamie posing on a pitch, "Can I have your autograph?"

His brows shoot up in surprise, "No fuckin' way. Where'd you find this?"

"I asked your mom to send me a pic of when you were little."

He chuckles, "Look at me. A sexy lil thing, aren't I?" You snort and hand him the marker. He signs his name and draws a heart, writing his initials and yours inside it. He caps the marker and hands it back to you along with the picture, "There ya go, babes."

"I'll cherish it forever."

You look down at your next photo and go up to Sam, who gives you a polite grin, "Good afternoon, Y/N!"

"Hi, Sam! Can I get your autograph?"

"Of course!" you hand him a picture of when he was a young teen and he laughs, "Oh my."

Jamie, who decided to follow you, reaches for the picture, "Aw look at you, Sammy boy!" Jamie shows all the boys Sam's picture and Sam bashfully chuckles.

"Alright, give it here, Jamie!" Sam swipes it back and signs his name. When he gives it back to you, he asks, "Where did you find this picture?"

"I scrolled through your old Facebook photos."

Sam sighs and shakes his head, "I knew I should've deleted those."

The next person you go up to is Colin. He's a small skinny thing, donning his primary school uniform, smiling widely.

Colin looks up at you in disbelief, "Did you reach out to my parents for this?"

You give a nonchalant shrug, "Maybe."

Each interaction with the boys went this way. Each one was surprised to see a picture of a younger version of them being handed to them. The surrounding players hollering and teasing each other for how they looked back then.

Jamie stood beside you the entire time, watching each interaction and just hanging around you. How could he not? He's always drawn to your presence. Not only that, he just adores how well you get along with the guys. You're sweet and funny, which makes it easy for them to say "yes" to whatever kind of video you want to film for the team's socials. You're very good at your job.

After all the photos are signed, you set them out so everyone can see. You stand back, watching the boys mess around with each other. You're already uploading the videos to your dropbox so you can edit them all together on your work computer.

Jamie wraps an arm around your waist and kisses your temple, "Must be nice getting paid to make fun of footballers," he says with a smirk.

You giggle, "So fun! Seriously so glad Keeley hired me on! Probably the most fun I've ever had in any job!"

"Also probably the best job ever since you get to hang around your hot footballer boyfriend too, yeah?" He gives you a playfully nudge.

You snort, turning to completely face him, your arms hooking behind his neck, "Oh absolutely," you lean in to kiss him but Roy steps in, pushing you two away from each other, "Get a room, you disgustingly cute little shits."

You look at each other confused, but then shrugged as Roy yelled, "Whistle! WHISTLE!" The gaggle of football players quiet and you quickly wave at Jamie. You blow a kiss at him and mouth, "I'll see you later."

He blows you a kiss back and waves, earning him a slap on the head from Roy.

"Oi! What the hell, gramps?"

"Pay attention!" Roy grumbles and turns his attention back to the rest of the players, ready to prepare them for today's training.

[its-time-to-write]

hello! First thing first, I want to say how much of a good writer you are, I hope you know this 💕 second I have this idea of reader and Jamie dating, but nobody knows. One day reader is in the coaches room and starts yawning and Roy is like what's that 🤨 (something similar to that scene with beard after he gets back with jane) and reader answers with "you have been waking me up everyday at 4 am" or smt like that and this is how everyone finds out. I know you have already written something like this but I thought it was cute, so feel free to ignore

this was cute. you were right.

coffee at midnight

Neither you nor Jamie exactly decided to keep your relationship a secret.

“It’s not a secret, it’s private, babe,” Jamie insists. You just roll your eyes.

But like, it is private.

That means no instagram posts, no public dates, and no unasked opinions. It also means that Jamie gets a Polaroid camera (“so we don’t get hacked, babe,”), plans dates in his giant house, and keeps fans’ noses out of your relationship.

It also, also means that Roy Kent doesn’t know you’re in Jamie’s bed every morning when he knocks on the door loud enough to wake the dead.

You’re a week into these shenanigans, and you’re not sure how much longer you can handle it. You’ve barely been at Nelson Road for an hour, but you’ve yawned more than you’ve spoken. Jamie’s been sending you apologetic looks every time he passes you in the hall, but now the entire team is in the weight room as you bring the coaches their coffee.

You place Roy’s in front of him and he asks, “The fuck’s wrong with you?”

You glare. “Nothing. That’s rude to ask, anyway. I’m-” you pause to yawn- “fine.”

Ted looks between you and Roy. “Normally I’d side with the lady on this one, but you look dead on your feet. You been sleepin’ okay?”

“Yes,” you reply shortly. “I’ve been sleeping fine. I just don’t get a lot of it these days.”

“That sounds decidedly un-sexy,” Trent calls from his desk.

You snarl, “It isn’t,” then realize that Trent is undeserving of your anger. “I’m sorry. I’ve been getting like five hours of sleep every night this whole week. Me and my boyfriend just moved in together and we both talk like way too much. So we usually don’t fall asleep until late.”

The room fills with whistles and hoots from Ted, Beard, and Trent. Roy is stoic as always.

“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend,” Ted grins. “What’s his name?”

You hesitate. You’re pretty sure Jamie would be okay if you told Ted, but you’re not sure you really want to. You let the silence stretch on for a beat too long, and Trent’s on you like a vulture.

“It’s someone here, isn’t it?” he asks.

“No,” you reply, but it’s not convincing. It’s hard for you to lie when you’re this tired.

Jamie and Sam choose this exact moment to come into the locker room to grab water bottles. Jamie glances at you and you make the mistake of glancing back. It’s just for a second but Trent catches it with his stupid eagle-eyes.

“Oh shit,” he says.

You round on him. Maybe he does deserve your anger. “Don’t say anything,” you warn.

He zips his lips as Roy says, “Why are you being so fucking weird? We know you’re fucking lying. Just say which of these little pricks you’re dating and get some sleep like a fucking normal adult.”

“I’d be able to get regular sleep, except you’ve been waking me up at fucking 4am!” you explode.

The room goes silent. 

“Fuuuck,” Roy whispers. “Fucking Tartt? You’re dating- fuck, you moved in with fucking Tartt?”

“Yes,” you groan, “We’ve been together for six months and it’s probably the most serious relationship I’ve ever been in, and I know how it sounds but we really like each other. Higgins already knows because of HR shit but other than that, it’s been private.”

Ted and Beard have matching open-mouthed smiles. It would be a little scary if you hadn’t known them for as long as you have.

“That’s the most adorable shit I’ve ever heard in my whole life,” Beard says.

“Hold on,” Trent interjects, “does this mean you and Jamie have been staying up late every night talking?”

“Yes,” you reply primly. “And then this prick bangs on our door at fuck-thirty in the morning and I’m awake for the rest of the day.”

Roy says, “Right,” very slowly. “Is that fucking why he wasn’t wearing fucking trousers?”

All eyes turn to you.

“I’m not answering that,” you say. “In fact, I think I hear Higgins calling me. I have to leave right now.” You back out of the room and down the hall before anyone can say anything else.

The coaches’ office is silent for a moment before they all clamor out of their seats to chase you down the hall. They have so many questions but first, they’re going to yell at Higgins for keeping it a secret.

[benedictscanvas]

pick me up at seven - roy kent x reader

pairing: roy kent x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k (they won't all be this long i don't think!!)

warnings: language of course, and this is a little steamy but with no actual smut. my favourite genre HA

request: I can’t find any good Roy fics until your recent one and I’m dying for more 😭 Anyway you could write something else for him? Maybe they’re at a bar and he gets pissed when he sees Jamie flirting w her? (Not a pre established relationship) - @kashee-h

a/n: your wish is my demand!! i'm so happy you enjoyed the first roy fic of what i hope are many to come. this one totally got away from me, i loved writing it so so much, thanks for a request that I really got to make my own! <3

---

Roy is the one who’s invited you here. Roy is the one who trekked over to your office at the end of the working day and told you that everyone was going out that evening. Roy is the one who suggested you come, even when you seemed reluctant to join in on what appeared to be an evening for just the players and the coaches. Roy is the one who convinced you that it would be fun, that he’d make sure of it.

All of this is making it very hard for Roy to accept that you are currently sat in a corner booth with someone else. The fact that the person you seemed to be having such an in depth conversation with was Jamie fucking Tartt was the icing on a very shit cake.

He knew he could be having a better night than just sitting on a barstool trying not to watch the two of you, especially when Ted and Beard arrived to get the next round and he didn’t even acknowledge them. They’d hired out a private room, so it was filled with people he generally tolerated the company, some he’d even go as far as to say that he liked. None of that was registering, however. 

Jamie leans in when you can’t hear something he’s said and he watches you nod solemnly, duck your head to stare at the floor as if flustered, and he wants to walk right out that door and never come back. Maybe he could get a job at Chelsea, or something.

“Now, what’s wrong, Jeremy Strong?” Ted asks, and Roy has to bite back a ‘fuck off’ so hard he wonders if his lip is bleeding, “You look just about ready to start wreckin’ the place.”

Out of the corner of Roy’s eye, he sees Beard lean in to whisper in Ted’s ear and points over at you. Ted looks surprised. Roy does not want to deal with this.

“You’re telling’ me our very own Mr Kent has his eyes on our very own Miss Y/L/N? Well, that’s just great! She’s sweet as anythin’, good for you, Roy.”

“She’s sweet on Jamie fucking Tartt, more like,” he says, even though he knows he’s being so fucking unfair. He hates it about himself. He knows how hard he’s worked on these feelings, on frustration and anger and jealousy, knows that a few years ago he’d be getting ready to fight Jamie down an alley further through tonight. Now he’s done that work, however, he can recognise the overriding feeling that he’s actually just hurt and that’s so much worse. It’s much easier to be jealous than upset.

“Does this call for an impromptu meeting of the Diamond Dogs?” Ted asks brightly and Roy is only able to stop him after his second howl. Higgins has looked over briefly but Beard signals him to stay where he is.

“Fuck no,” Roy blurts out, then reconsiders. Maybe he could at least talk to Ted, “I just- I was going to tell her. Tonight.”

“Tell her what?” Ted’s doing that thing where he bats his eyelashes like he’s in some sort of rom-com. Beard’s got his head resting in his hand, looking similarly up at Roy. They’re insufferable. 

“That I fucking like her, okay? Take those fucking looks off your faces.”

Ted and Beard scramble to look normal but come up short. Ted’s got the awful kind of shit-eating grin on his face that he gets when he sees Sam and Jamie hugging or watches Isaac doing his handshakes with everyone before a game.

“So, you’ve been spending time together? Or are you telling her out of the blue?” Beard pipes up.

Roy thinks that over. You’ve been spending a lot of time together actually. More than anyone at the club would probably even believe. He slips away to your office to eat lunch under the guise of needing a break from the American Circus downstairs. You text him when you’ve brought in ice cream because you know he’ll never say no to ice cream. You’ve met Phoebe. That one was by accident in the park, but you stuck around for four fucking hours and nobody made you.

Still, he wonders whether it would be completely shocking to you or whether you’ve been waiting for him to make a proper move. You’re incredibly difficult to read alongside being so stupidly pretty that sometimes he wants to swear less around you. He doesn’t manage it, of course, but he thinks it.

“Yes, we’ve spent time together. No, I don’t know what that means. Probably doesn’t mean shit to her, not that it would be her fault if she doesn't.”

Ted and Beard tilt their heads simultaneously at him and he wishes he could bash their heads together for a moment.

“But it means somethin’ to you, hey coach? I don’t think Miss Y/N sittin’ with Jamie should stop you from tellin' her how you feel about ‘er, hey coach?”

Roy’s lost track of which coach Ted is even talking to, but Beard chimes in.

“Surely her spending time with Jamie should be all the more incentive to tell her. Find out how she feels. Get that crushing disappointment out of the way now. It’s only downhill from here.”

Roy raises a brow at him as Ted gives him a look. Beard sighs, then picks up his drink and seems to disappear. Ted leans into Roy.

“Him and Jane are on a break again, I’m sorry. Look I’m goin’ to have to go find him but he was right, until he wasn’t. Go get ‘er, Ross Gellar!”

And with that, Ted’s gone too, weaving his way through crowds of people until he’s lost to them. When Roy glances back in your direction, Jamie’s got Colin and Isaac beside him instead and you’re nowhere to be found. He sighs and stands from his barstool, making his way to the exit. Maybe he’d think about what Ted and Beard had said tomorrow: for now, he just wanted to go home.

Except for the fact that when he finally managed to push his way outside to breathe in some fresh air, he found you. Leaning against the wall of the club, with definite tears in your eyes, even under the dim street lamp light. He was going to murder Jamie Tartt, slowly, with rope and paint and suffering involved.

But he knew to take a slightly softer approach with you. If at all possible.

“Hey,” he says quietly, trying not to startle you. You're quick to look up at him, startled anyway, and he grits his teeth as he asks, “Are you alright?”

He doesn’t make any comment about what the fuck Jamie had done to you. Doesn’t think it would be received all that well. Again, he’s biting the inside of his lip harder than ever.

“Yes! Oh god, yes, sorry,” you’re blinking furiously. He admires your resolve when the nearly teary face is quickly replaced by that bright smile that makes him weaker in the knees than he already is, “Fuck, sorry. I’m all good. I’m not sure this is my scene, I was just going to call a taxi.”

There’s an opening. He’ll be damned if he’s not taking it, even though confessing anything is the furthest idea from his mind - he’s much more focused on making sure you’re okay and nobody’s done anything to hurt you. If they have, he's already resigned to a short stint in jail if necessary.

“Do you want to walk?”

“Uh, I mean not really. It’s quite late, so…”

“With me, I mean,” he quickly clarified, wanting to bash his head against the brick wall, “I could walk you home, if you wanted. Or not. That’s fine too.”

“Oh, right,” you’re looking down at your feet as you contemplate it, “That would be nice, if you’re sure. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” he insists, falling into step beside you as you begin to walk. He wants to give you his jacket and maybe his shirt too with the way you’re shivering, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He’s a fucking coward, but he will get to the bottom of what’s the matter if its the last thing he does, “You gonna tell me what’s wrong now?”

You huff out a frustrated sigh, at him, at yourself, he isn’t sure.

“I made a fucking fool of myself tonight,” you say eventually, and he can’t even imagine you doing that, “I thought…god, it doesn’t matter what I thought. Everything just feels worse when its…1:30 in the morning, don’t you think?”

You’d lifted his hand to check his watch before you said the time. Again, he wanted to hold on, but he let you drop his hand and it just went limp.

“It fucking does, yeah. Don’t think you could make a fucking fool of yourself if you tried though. Not around us lot.”

Your family, he heard Ted’s voice in his head. He was not fucking saying that. To his surprise, you let out a loud bark of a laugh at his words and he was staring at the side of your face as you spoke out into the dark air.

“I thought you were coming to pick me up tonight, you know?” you began, and his heart drops to his shoes. You’re upset about him?

“What?”

“Something you said earlier, when you asked me to come. You asked where I lived, then told me it would be a twenty minute walk to get there. Then you said ‘see you at seven’.”

He could have stopped walking. He had said that, but he was just trying to help you plan out your timings for the evening - you’d mentioned to him once that you were known for having some time blindness when you were getting ready for things. Of course he should have realised how fucking stupid that was, how much that sounded like he would come and walk with you.

He would have fucking loved to walk with you.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed, far too loudly for the quiet night that surrounded you. You carried on undeterred, shaking your head. He could see your frustration was at yourself now, and he hated himself even more than he had earlier.

“My fault for assuming, I know. But that’s why I was so late. And when I arrived, trying talk myself into not feeling like a twat, you were already over with Dani and Isaac and Bumbercatch, clearly never intending to come pick me up. Which, why would you, of course. I just…felt shit. Jamie tried to help, bless him, but I just wanted to go home, honestly.”

Roy is the biggest idiot on the planet. He wants to go back into the club and hug Jamie for looking after you, then ask him to punch him in the face. Roy could punch something, anything right now, but he just grits his teeth.

“I’m-” he grunts when his voice comes out all strangled, “I’m really fucking sorry, Y/N. I’m the fucking twat. I was asking where you lived and that to help you with that fucking time blindness thing you told me about. Should’ve known how it sounded though. Fucking idiot.”

He directed the last comment at himself, kicking a stone he’d found on the pavement. He kept his eyes firmly trained on his shoes as the two of you continued walking, now at a significantly slower pace. Your eyes were burning a hole in the side of his face.

There was a silence that stretched on as you stared at him, until-

“Fucking hell,” you groaned, “That’s so fucking sweet. You’re the worst.”

He doesn’t know if he can remember being called sweet before. Phoebe was often excessively complimentary of him in a way that made him uncomfortable, but sweet had never come up. He didn’t feel sweet.

“I am the worst,” he grunted, spiralling, “Making you feel so shit. Ruining your fucking night. I was the one who convinced you in the first place and now you’ve had a shit fucking time and I’m the worst.”

He’s a little out of breath and loud again by the end of his rant. The two of you have stopped walking. You kick the toe of your heel against his shoe, placating.

“No, you’re the worst ‘cause you keep giving me all this hope. I fucking hate hope, no matter what Ted says,” you chuckle to yourself, and he’s not sure what you’re saying but he’s peering into your now smiling expression as he tries to work it out, “Look, do you like me or not? You’re a good guy Roy and either way, I’m grateful that you’re walking me home. I just think if I ask, maybe I can just feel like a twat for the night and get it over with by tomorrow.”

“Do I…like you?”

He sounds thick. He feels thick. Feels like his mouth is full of honey that his tongue is having to wade through to even speak to you. It’s stuck to the bottom of his mouth, heavy.

“Yeah. As in, do you just enjoy eating lunch with me or do you ever look at me and just want to kiss me? Cause I do that all the fucking time, Roy, but I can’t be arsed to dance around it anymore.”

You look really tired as you stare up at him, but he feels more energised than ever. You’ve both just established that he’s the absolute worst, and yet here he is, with everything he could’ve wanted right in front of him. You, looking fucking gorgeous and looking at him like that? Even getting a job at Chelsea wouldn’t help him against you - he was gone.

There’s a smirk on his face that he can’t bite back as he takes your face in both his hands and revels in the gasp he can pull from you. He should have known you’d be the first to say something. You weren’t the coward he was.

“Let’s not fuck about then, yeah?”

Low and breathy. You respond with a nod so eager that he’s practically grinning when he pulls you in. It’s quickly replaced by a hunger he’s been keeping at bay, allowing his hands to slide into your hair as he deepens the kiss almost as soon as it’s started. He can feel your hands clutching at the lapels on his jacket, but he’s more excited when you throw your arms around his neck instead, tugging on the hair at the base of his head.

He growls and you actually whimper. It’s like he’s been set on fucking fire. Like he’s been struck by lightning.

When he pulls away for air, you stay close, peppering kisses along the scruff of his jaw, up the side of his face and back down again. He holds you to him tightly around your waist and feels wanted. He’s wanted you for so long, but to be wanted in return, so openly, it’s both hot and meaningful. He’s not sure anyone’s ever told him they liked him before. Most models he’d dated were pretty sold on the idea that he had to make all the moves.

Still, when you begin trailing kisses down his neck and there’s a hand on the top button of his shirt, he has enough sense about him to stop you. Even if he really doesn’t want to.

“I don’t know what street this is,” he breathes out, low voice little more than a rumble, “But maybe we don't give your neighbours a fucking show.”

You look thoroughly kissed when you look back at him, but he doesn’t think it’ll ever be enough. He leans in to kiss you once more to punctuate his sentence, watching as you duck your head, all shy, even though your arms are still around him. He knows now that when you ducked your head with Jamie, you were embarrassed. This is you properly flustered and it’s one of his favourite looks on you.

“Good call, yeah. Okay. I’m- I’m just around this corner, I think.”

“You think?”

“Shut up, you,” you whack him lightly on the shoulder, as the two of you resume walking, “Think you can make it all the way there?”

“I’d carry you if my knee wasn’t fucked,” he admits, watching you with a lopsided smile, “Really fucking like you, by the way. If that wasn’t proof. Thought you should hear me fucking say it.”

You close your eyes in a little half laugh - giddy, he thinks. 

“Well, I did wonder. We’ve spent a lot of time together the last few weeks for someone who doesn’t like spending time with people.”

“Your first clue,” he agrees, taking your hand with pride now as the two of you keep walking, turning the corner towards your house. The pace is a lot quicker than it was before. He hopes he knows why, “I’ll be less of a fucking idiot now. Promise.”

“Eh, don’t worry,” you shrug, letting go of his hand only to thread your arm through his and take hold of his hand again, even tighter, “Nothing sexier than fucking idiots. I like my men with no thoughts behind their eyes.”

He properly laughs at that, head tilted back, feeling your head against his arm as you laugh with him. You slow down, gesturing left. Your house. The two of you walk down the drive until you’re at the door, face to face again and Roy is having a small internal battle.

“Look, I know you said no show for the neighbours,” you begin, almost nervously, “But does that mean a…private show is totally off the table too?”

He watches you picking at your nails. Can’t help it. He pulls you in for another breathless kiss, just to watch you come alive again, confident and fucking into him, however much of a miracle it seems. You pull away this time, clearly keen for an answer, but he groans.

“Tryin’ to be a fucking gentleman, here. Why don’t we do dinner tomorrow? Proper date. And I’ll fucking pick you up.”

You giggle. Still, there’s a glint in your eyes, as you sigh melodramatically.

“That does sound nice. Only thing is, there could be an intruder in here, you know? So, and I’ll only ask once more and then I promise I’ll let you go if you say no, but maybe you should walk me to my bedroom? To make sure I’m safe, you know? And then you can pay for my breakfast in the morning like a good old fashioned gentleman, if you want.”

You’re looking up at him, all hopeful again. His resolve is dwindling. You spin your keys around one finger and its a simple gesture, but it’s the final straw.

“I’m paying for your fucking lunch too,” he growls, diving into you once again. He’s beside himself when he hears you mutter a faint ‘thank fuck’ as you fumble to unlock the door and all but drag him inside.

---

if you've read this far, i fucking love you, you beautiful sunflower <3 requests open for this angry man and his favourite jamie tartt if you're interested!!

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Just Do It

Request: Hi I don’t know if you’re still taking asks and I hate when people ask me stuff when my inbox is closed, but if you are could you please write a Roy Kent x reader with an age gap? That’s literally all I have and I know you touched on it it Superstar and I totally get it if you don’t have time/don’t want to! Love your writing so much and hope your time in Vegas is fun!

Roy Kent x Reader

0.9k words

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, age gap (ages not mentioned, but reader is in their 20s, Roy is early 40s)

A/N: Thanks for the request! I hope you like it ❤️❤️ (also, Vegas was lots of fun, just way too hot for my taste!)

Roy sat in the corner of Ola’s watching you carefully as you chatted with some of the players. You’d been working at Nelson Road for a couple of months now, and he’d fallen hard and fast for you. Of course, people noticed. Rebecca found any reason she could to send you to the coaches’ office. Keeley asked him almost daily if he thought you looked pretty that particular day. Jamie kept leaving Viagra advertisements on his desk. Even Beard gave him a little nudge every time you walked by. It seemed like everyone at the Dog Track knew how he felt except, well, you.

“Watcha lookin’ at Coach?” Jamie stood over Roy, following the older man’s gaze. “Ohhh.”

Roy scowled. “Oh, what?” Roy knew what. He knew exactly what.

Jamie grinned. “Just ask her out already, lad. She’s not gonna say no, I swear.”

“And why is that?” Roy huffed, taking a long swig of his beer.

“Well for one, I bet she was raised to respect her elders.”

A low growl escaped from the depths of Roy’s lungs. “That’s why I’m not going to fucking ask her out. She’s what, like your age? No thanks. I don’t need all the jokes about being old enough to be her dad or asking her to move into a nursing home with me or whatever jokes you’ve been saving in a notebook.”

Jamie shrugged. “I actually write them in the notes app on my phone. Because I’m not an old man.”

“Yeah, you can fucking leave now,” Roy grumbled, giving Jamie a shove.

Before walking away, Jamie called over his shoulder, “Do what Nike says, Coach. Just do it!”

With a grunt, Roy returned to staring at you. His heartbeat stuttered when you looked up from your conversation with Dani to look his way. Something sparkled in your eyes when you caught him staring that made Roy’s throat go dry. It got worse when you got up and walked over to him, plopping your beer on his table, and dropping yourself into the chair across from him.

“How’s it going?” you asked cheerfully, offering him your best smile.

“Not bad,” he mumbled, tapping his own beer bottle. “Yourself?”

You shrugged. “Mostly okay.” There was something almost glum in your expression.

Roy wasn’t used to that; you almost always had a smile on your face. “Fuck’s wrong?”

There was a long moment of the two of you staring at each other, your mouth slightly open, as if you were trying to figure out what to say. Roy’s mind went rapid wondering what it was. Something about a boyfriend? Were you leaving Richmond? Did you know about Roy’s dumb little crush? Did you want him to leave you the fuck alone?

Finally, you let out a sigh. “Right. Um, so I’m going to ask you something, and you’re going to answer, and then we are going to pretend like this conversation never happened. Deal?”

“Depends on the question,” Roy answered, leaning forward.

Your head tilted back and forth, something Roy often saw you do when you were nervous or thinking hard about something. He thought it was fucking adorable, although now it made him nervous.

Your face was beet red as your fingernails scratched the label on your beer bottle. “I just… was wondering why you haven’t asked me out.”

Fuck. Maybe Jamie was right, maybe Roy was just one good scare away from having a fucking heart attack. His jaw slacked a little as he stared at you, not quite sure what to say. But seeing the fear that swam in the eyes he loved to see, he knew he needed to say something.

“What makes you think I was going to?” Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The way your shoulders slumped told him that this was the absolute wrong thing to say.

“Oh. Shit.” Your eyes screwed shut. “I am so sorry. I completely misinterpreted things. I’m an absolute knob, thinking that you- and I-” When your eyes opened, Roy swore he saw tears. “Like I said, pretend this never happened.” You shot to your feet, a look of absolute humiliation frozen on your face.

Instinctively, Roy grabbed your wrist, gazing up at you, feeling like his stomach was twisting and untwisting over and over. “Too old,” he mumbled, feeling his own face go red now. “Aren’t I?”

To his surprise, you shrugged. “Dunno. I mean, sure, you’re older than me by a bit. But I don’t really care, if I’m being honest. I dunno, I thought that maybe there was… something.”

Roy licked his lips. Like Nike always said- just do it.

“There is,” he admitted. “At least, for me there is. Something there, I mean.” He ducked his head, ignoring the fact that he still held your wrist in his hand. “I fucking like you.”

A smile replaced your somber expression. “Oh really?” You resumed your seat, sliding your arm back so your hand was in his. “Tell me more.”

Roy glanced down at your hands, a small smirk creeping across his face. “How about I tell you somewhere my team isn’t watching us?” He nodded behind you, where Jamie and Dani and the others were staring at you two with great interest, beaming and holding their breaths.

You raised an eyebrow at Roy. “Roy Kent, are you asking if I want to get out of here?”

“Maybe,” he grunted. “I know a decent place to get a drink. What d’you say?”

Keeping hold of his hand, you stood up and nodded towards the door. “I say let’s do it.”

[sgtjamesrogers]

“Sign here… and there you are, cheers!” 

The receptionist pushed a glasses case towards him across the desk, stowing his receipt and paperwork away in return. Roy looked at the smart-looking leather case with some amount of trepidation, as if it might grow teeth and bite him. 

He’s avoided this for as long as possible; he’s hated his eyesight going on him. It had been one of the first signs of his body giving up on him, and any of the potential solutions had felt too irritating to follow through on. Having to poke his finger into his eyes with contacts, LASIK would have made his night vision even worse, and glasses were a particularly irritating solution while he was an active athlete. 

Of course, being retired as well as seeing how much blurrier road signs continued to get, meant that it would be irresponsible to keep avoiding the issue. Glasses would simply have to do. Roy stowed the case in his jacket pocket with a nod to the receptionist, he wasn’t going to wear them out of the optometrist’s office. He still had a little pride left, after all. 

Roy found Nelson Road a busy hive of activity, and the full-tilt chaos of the season left the car park full to bursting. He felt his dread grow as he parked, but took his new frames out of the case and put them on anyway. No way out but through, after all. He just didn’t want to hear everyone being so kind about them. 

Well. Tartt would probably be less than kind given his proclivity for ‘grandad’ jokes and jabs about his age. The idea that at least one person wouldn’t be painfully positive was almost a relief. 

The first person he encountered was Isaac, who gave him a considering nod as they passed each other on the stairs. 

“Cool frames bruv,” he said over his shoulder, taking the steps two at a time. “They pull the whole look together. S’cool that you’re doing more fashion!” 

Kill me, Roy thought as he descended toward the dressing rooms. It was like a repeat of Phoebe’s gift shirt, with multiple people in the corridor stopping to stare and pretending they hadn’t. Preferably before I get to my desk. 

“Oh!” Nate blurted out as Roy entered the coaching offices. His forehead scrunched with dismay as Roy lifted his eyes to him, like the noise had been an unstoppable reflex at the sight of Roy Kent in glasses. It took everything in him not to turn on his heel and walk out again.

“What?” Roy growled, stalking over to his chair and sitting heavily. 

“They look nice,” Nate said helplessly, gesturing to his face with one hand. “The frame shape suits your face, is that…not what you want to hear?” Roy was staring at his desk, but in his peripheral, he could see Nate cast desperate confused looks at Beard, currently kicked back in his chair reading Wonder Boys by Michael Chabon. 

“You look the same as you always do,” Beard said without looking up. “There. Happy?” 

“Yes,” Roy grumped, and then frowned at the book’s cover. “Can I borrow that after you’re finished?” 

“Ay coaches,” came the voice in the doorway, the low voice and ‘soft a’ pronunciation signaling the arrival of Jamie Tartt. “Colin’s not going to ask so I came instead, everyone’s talking about–” His voice halted like someone had pointed a remote at him and clicked ‘off’. Roy looked up from his desk. 

“Talking about what?” He asked, unable not to sneer through the words. “Come on, let’s fucking hear it. You’ve had to be saving up all sorts of material for a day like today. This must be early Christmas to you.” Then he really looked at Jamie. “Have you already been at cardio?” 

“Mm,” Jamie said, nodding slowly as he stared at Roy. He did look like he’d been on a treadmill, the apples of his cheeks a pinky-red that was creeping towards his ears. “What? Have I been at what?” 

“Cardio,” Roy repeated, voice raising in growing disbelief. He should never have put the glasses on, the second he did the whole world went off like milk curdling in his fridge. Jamie shook his head just as slowly in response. He looked almost dazed. 

“Mm, not cardio. Not since my usual when I got up this morning,” he said, sounding out each word like a step where he couldn’t quite find his footing. He screwed up his mouth afterward, lips working like there were other words he might say that refused to be located. Colin was behind his right shoulder just outside of the office, squinting hard at the back of Jamie’s head. 

Nate reached and felt Jamie’s forehead with the back of his fingertips, his earlier bemused nerves now burnt away with concern. “Are you coming down ill?” 

Jamie jumped like he’d been electrocuted, eyes widening first at Roy, and then at Nate. 

“Ill? No, nah, I’m grand,” he said, a little too loudly. “Picture of health.” He stepped backward out of the office, bumping into Colin and continuing to backpedal. “I think I left my— phone! I left my phone, in the…in the toilets!” He vacated the dressing room so quickly, he might have left a Jamie-shaped cloud of dust hanging in the air, like a Looney Tune. 

Roy shoved his glasses up his forehead, scrubbing with annoyance at his eyes with the backs of his knuckles. The glasses were clearly cursed, there were no two ways about it.

[calzone-d]

I’m so psyched for headcannons!!! What about one that’s a little angsty like you and Ted on a break?

i’m glad you’re excited! thanks for sending this in! we all love a little angst. (tagging @carmylasso because I know she’s all about some angst)

got a lil long winded with this one and just ran with it, don’t say i didn’t warn you!

also, spoilers for season 3 if you haven’t watched yet.

ted would absolutely overthink everything

i feel like he’d intiate it while dealing with the whole dr. jacob mess

he thinks about how easily michelle cheated, how it was right under his nose

how he had NO idea it was even happening

his anxiety gets the best of him and combined with the stress of the team he has a “you know what? let’s push everyone away” moment

you guys had only gone on a couple dates, but have been close friends since he moved to richmond

he felt he’d gotten over Michelle enough to where he could finally express his feelings for you without that getting in the way

def would do it after the phone call, and a couple glasses of whiskey

he does it over the phone, his words are slurred and his voice is thick and you can tell somethings just wrong, but he hangs up before you can question him any further

you text him

“Ted, please talk to me about this. Things have been going good, I thought”

“They were. It’s not you, I’m sorry.”

and that’s it for a couple days

EESH maybe he doesn’t show up to work for the rest of the week, calls in “sick”

and when he tries pulling that excuse the next week, beard & roy go over to his apartment and straighten him the fuck out

they make him shower, help him clean, make him eat

“What does y/n have to say about all of this?”

“She uh- she don’t know.”

and they think about how you acted at work and put the pieces together

they lovingly rip into him about how he’s known you for over a year now, how they know he’s hurt by michelle’s cheating but not everyone is like that

what gets him is when they talk about how you’ve been at work. not happy or bubbly as usual, eating alone in your office, always having a sniffle and puffy eyes in the halls.

“Shit, y’all.. I-I did that to her.. I was just tryin’ to avoid getting hurt again I never meant to-“

Beard shakes is head and is like “No, tell her that”

would have a therapy session the next day and explains everything to dr sharon, she also tells him that he handled that wrong and should’ve just let you in, or asked for some reassurance from you

after that, he goes to your apartment with flowers and shaky hands

you answer in a robe, wine bottle behind you, eyes red and swollen, he can tell you’ve been crying.

your usually tidy living room is super cluttered

“Can I come in? I’ve got some explainin’ to do.”

breaks his heart when you sit on the opposite end of the couch instead of right beside him

he explains what happened with michelle, his thought process of not wanting to get hurt again, all of it

“I wasn’t the one that did that, Ted. I shouldn’t be punished for her mistake.”

“I know.. That was unfair, and I’m sorry.”

definitely not the type of guy to ignore the fact he made a mistake

“This won’t work without trust, Ted. I cant be in a relationship with you if you don’t trust me.”

“There was never an issue with trust, it was just- I was scared. So scared, y/n.”

“Then tell me that next time. Tell me what you’re scared of, or if i’ve done something to make you feel scared, or if you just need reassurance. I can work with that, Ted, but not if you just shut me out.”

“Do you think we could maybe uh, make some sorta system for when I’m feelin’ that way? Because I can’t promise I won’t be kinda scared for a while but I don’t want it messin’ with what we’ve got goin’ on. Don’t want her messin’ up anymore of the good things in my life.”

sooo that’s what you do. maybe similar to the “oklahoma” situation, you come up with a word for when he’s feeling scared or anxious, particularly when it’s related to the relationship

tears up a bit, it’s just pretty emotional overall

maybe you sit in on a session with dr sharon

i do think he’d make some strong improvement after that, like how we’ve seen with his panic attacks

would set boundaries about things that make him especially anxious, and asks you to do the same

very open and honest as a lover, regardless of the whole michelle shitshow

so apologetic for a while because he know what he did was wrong

oh god just imagine him holding while he calms down that night

he’d need you so close

just needs to feel you around him

needs to feel you breathe, smell your shampoo, needs to know you’re there for him

i’m so fucking soft for this man

thanks anon!! this was fun!!

[abubblingcandle]

Augusnippets Day 18 - Protective Caretaker - Ted Lasso

Jamie finds himself in hospital yet again and Keeley and Roy find out through a secondary source. Neither of them were called as Jamie's emergency contacts. So if it wasn't them ... then who was it?

Here on AO3 @augusnippets

Jamie was in hospital. Again. According to Jamie he had been helping out a neighbour and had fallen off a stepladder rescuing a kitten. Roy had no reason to not believe that tale of events but he just didn’t. Also according to Jamie, he was fine and didn’t need the ambulance that Shannon had called. Now that he absolutely didn't believe. "Why were we not called?" Keeley growled in a great Roy Kent impression at the poor doctor that choose that moment to come check on Jamie. 

"Keeley come off," Jamie groaned, arm drapped over his eyes. 

"No! I am his emergency contact and I should have been called as soon as he was admitted," Keeley continued to vent. 

"There's nothing wrong with me they didn't need to call," Jamie's groans turning more and more into whines. 

"Well there if it isn't our little bruised banana," Ted announced himself bursting into the room with Beard on his heels. 

"What are you fuckers doing here?" Roy frowned. 

"That's what I was trying to tell you. Mr Tartt here is at risk of a concussion from his fall and so needs to leave with someone to supervise him," the doctor interrupted the posturing contest. 

"Oo I'm very good at those. I have different voices to keep it fresh," Ted pointed at the doctor then Jamie who looked like he was in his own personal hell. 

"Which is why we called Jamie's emergency contact ..."

"Which is me." Everyone slowly turned to look at Beard with a varied tableau of surprise. “Imagine how I felt.”

The doctor fled with the promise of a prescription and discharge forms leaving them to try and work all this out.

“Jamie? What’s going on?” Keeley was immediately there, squatting down at Jamie’s bedside with a comforting hand on his hip rubbing little circles.

“Just tired,” Jamie groaned. “Can I go home?”

“We need to wait for the doctors with your prescription. So we can have this conversation now. Why the fuck were none of us called and Beard was?” Roy growled.

“Roy,” Keeley scolded, but Roy could tell her heart wasn’t in it and she wanted to know as well.

“I’m fine it’s just some bruising,” Jamie muttered.

“That wasn’t the question Tartt!”

“This is why,” Jamie shouted, wincing as he jostled the bruises on his cheek. “I knew that even the most minor of injuries you lot would be all up in my business and making it a problem and a big deal. I ain’t that badly hurt. I’ve been hurt way fucking worse. I just need to go home and sleep,” he vented, pointing between Roy, Keeley and Ted.

“So why Beard?” Ted asked quietly, the only one out of the three that did look somewhat scolded.

“I needed someone in Richmond that I could trust would come but wouldn’t care that I was hurt and would sign the discharge papers. None of you lot would have done that,” that one moment of heat seemed to be rapidly fading out of Jamie. Roy didn’t know if it was the pain of his injuries taking over or regret at this bullshit scheme.

“Of course we fucking wouldn’t you idiot,” Roy shouted back.

“Really not the time Roy,” Keeley sighed.

“And you thought I would,” Beard’s calm steady voice dragged them all back on track as he stepped forward to be at the foot of Jamie’s bed. He reached out and grabbed onto the plastic hand holds. It was near impossible to read Beard’s emotions on the best of days but now he was locked down tighter than Fort Knox.

“You’ve never been my biggest fan have you?” Jamie muttered, eyes locked onto Beard almost challenging him to disagree. “When I’m hurt it’s always an inconvenience, a problem you know. I didn’t want to be a hassle to people who actually care about me. I know I’m a lot so I put down someone who wouldn’t make this a big fuss about it. But now we’re all making this big fuss about it,” he sighed, resigned to his fate. Good, because they were not letting him slip away to go lick his wounds in private. That was never going to happen again.

“I’m sorry I’ve made you feel that way,” Beard broke the silence, causing all the eyes in the room to lock onto him in varying degrees of surprise. “I didn’t like you at first but I don’t think anyone did …”

“I mean …”

“Don’t lie Ted he was a fucking prick.”

“Thanks grandad, really smashing the making me feel better bit.”

“As I was saying,” Beard continued through the veiled threats, “however I did think that our relationship was improving and so am sorry you didn’t also see that.”

The surprised eyes then turned to Jamie like they were watching emotional tennis. All Jamie did was shrug, curling up into himself as much as he could despite being all one big bruise.

The doctor saved them from these emotional reveals going on for much longer. “His prescription can be filled at any pharmacy but I recommend the one downstairs on your way out. He needs to be regularly checked to make sure cognitive function doesn’t deteriorate …”

“I don’t think there’ll be anything left if his brain withers any further,” Roy mutters and grins when Jamie flips him off.

“… and rest is the best mediciene for the bruises,” he finished holding out the discharge forms to the room in general. Roy went to grab them but Beard snatched them out of the doctor’s hand before he could.

“I’m his emergency contact,” Beard stated, already signing it.

“Coach you really don’t …”

“I’m your emergency contact, you’re coming home with me,” Beard’s tone left no room for argument. And Jamie didn’t, he just looked bashfully down at the bedsheets. Roy and Keeley looked at each other and shrugged. Looks like Jamie was going home with Beard … that was not going to end well.

[praecurokat]

Ted Lasso Finale Thoughts- So Long, Farewell... (I do not know what to think!)

this episode being an hour and 15 minutes..after being released at midnight... that's just cruel.. my brain cannot operate properly under such conditions..

congrats Tedbecca shippers! oop watched more.. sorry Tedbecca shippers...

most normal Beard and Jane appearance in the series at Rebecca’s house in the beginning

writers were bringing the dramatic flair in this episode! first that thing with Isaac dressed as a judge in the beginning, and then a musical number! idk how i feel about that..

speaking of the musical number, i must regretfully inform the masses that idk what the song is from.. pls lmk in the comments.. i see that it relates to the episode title

ah yes Jane acting totally normal by shredding Beard's passport.. total ✨ marriage material ✨

Trent's shirt says sat 17 may.. could this be significant?? everything in this show is..

"You know, that might be a tasty little treat for the diamond dogs.” “No. No. No. No!”-Roy, soon to become a Diamond Dog in a moment of desperation

wait did Trent name his manuscript the lasso way awww

“I only got into this to ruin Rupert's life, and he seems to be doing a pretty good job of that himself.”- Rebecca

So. Many. Throwbacks. Keeley saying “Is everybody decent?”, Jamie using lots of axe body spray like S1, the cleaner walking in on everyone, and way more i can’t think of

the complicated web that is royjamiekeeley is still being spun.. in the last episode..

“Must be awful for them, lying awake at night, haunted by how fucking easy they’ve had it!”- Mae, to Rebecca’s mom

Trent watching Ted read his book.. heart eyes emoji

the way Ted looks at him.. i meannn is this even subtext anymore?

“So you do laugh, but you don't do it until page.. 43?! And it wasn't even a big laugh!”- Trent, while Ted is reading his manuscript

"Whatever happens on Sunday, I want you to know I’m proud of you. All the work you’ve put in this year."- Roy to Jamie, before proceeding to fistfight with him later

Both Roy and Jamie seem very contemplative this ep. What are they thinking??

i am so concerned about the current royjamie feud over Keeley... what is gonna happen here???

“Would you please stay?” and “I know, I just had to try.”- Rebecca, about Ted

lmao Keeley kicking both Roy and Jamie out after they asked her to choose

“You stay put, Trenthouse magazine. You’re part of the squad now.”- Ted, to Trent

“Yeah. Someone better. Can people change?”- Roy, also this is a central tenet of this damn show

“I don’t think we change per se, as much as we just learn to accept who we’ve always been, you know?” -Trent’s most beautiful quote thus far

aww Nate finally got his diamond dogs reaction to Jade

George being Rupert’s coach sent me.. like you Really couldn’t find anyone else?

I hate Rupert but I love his dramatic slay coat swish moments.. again reminds me of Uther’s drama queen antics

“I prefer rugby, there’s just more grown men throwing other grown men into the air like children. And blood. Which is nice." - Barbara

Bloodthirsty and mysterious? Barbara is a serial killer or vampire confirmed.

“Never forget, I am always inside you.” -Zava’s note, which also came with a giant avocado

Zorro has truly entered his superhero arc and Dani Rojas is his genius creator

the fourth thing has to be 'Believe'.. aand it was? Right?

AFC Richmond Women’s club.. i sense a spinoff show opportunity…. or they could just do a show about Trent

George has begun a redemption arc!! (Telling Rupert to fuck off)

Rupert's desperation and misery at the end is not entirely unreminiscent of Rebecca at the start of S1

yesss Colin got his kiss on the pitch!!

haha the same? person from S1E1 taking pics w Ted in the airport

damn so Beard’s going home too, thought Jane would've locked him away in a safe or smth… nvm

omg Amsterdam man has a child.. hmmm Rebecca’s prophecy may still be fulfilled

Roy becoming manager feels natural

Ofc Trent renamed his book ‘The Richmond Way’… never let them know your next move

that montage at the end…so much to process....

beardjane wedding marking the end of the series.. good or bad omen for the future? i think bad

seems very fitting the series ending the opposite of how it began.. Rupert's life ruined, Rebecca in love and not owner of the club, Roy and Jamie healing and bonding w others around them, and Ted back in America with family.

[leupagus]

Friendship between mardia and I was probably a mistake but like, WHOSE mistake is still a question

leupagus: I'm saying, maybe we don't get ted/trent but maybe we get something

mardia: god, let us PRAY

leupagus: trent/colin

leupagus: god that would be hilarious

mardia: I will die

leupagus: trent takes colin's keys away

mardia: The entire team thanks him

leupagus: ...actually if trent knows how to drive a vintage mercedes he can definitely handle a lambourghini

leupagus: which would probably be distressingly hot to Colin

leupagus: god now I want a Ted/Trent fic from the POV of a sadly pining Colin

leupagus: but like I feel somehow that Trent is exactly Colin's type

mardia: Oh NO

mardia: I love it

leupagus: like, Trent gets locked out of his car and Colin comes out next

leupagus: IDK how but somehow it results in Trent driving Colin's car

mardia: Ooooooh

mardia: And he drives it like a DREAM

leupagus: YES

leupagus: And Trent's making all these thoughtful like, humming noises as he tests the handling

leupagus: and Colin is like I AM HAVING ALL THESE THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS?? OH NO

leupagus: so they like, go to Trent's flat and he goes and gets his spare keys

leupagus: oh no wait

leupagus: Colin DRIVES him to his flat

leupagus: and Trent is just like, white-knuckling the whole way

leupagus: halfway there Trent turns to him and is like "I appreciate you trying to make me throw up as vengeance for the article I wrote, but Coach Lasso has already forgiven me"

leupagus: and Colin's like "all right, first of all, I didn't know you'd written the article, I just thought  you were somebody's hot dad"

leupagus: "and second, I'm not trying to do anything, this is just a very challenging car to drive and not everyone can appreciate her handling"

leupagus: Trent: you've been in first gear this whole time

mardia: like a red flag in front of a Bull

leupagus: YEP

leupagus: so then on the way BACK Trent bullies him out of the driver's seat and then makes Colin pop a boner with how well he handles it

leupagus: god Trent probably lectures him about stick shift handling

leupagus: how you have to be tender with it

leupagus: and Colin is like "oh god oh god oh god"

leupagus: and Trent gets out and happily tootles off in his own car and Colin's still just hunched over in the passenger seat

leupagus: like "oh nooooooooooo"

mardia: God when the team finds out about Ted and Trent

mardia: Everyone’s eying Trent up suspiciously

mardia: Except for poor Colin

mardia: The side eye that Isaac gives him when Colin’s all “I think he’s nice!”

leupagus: YES

leupagus: oh god so - how old is colin supposed to be

leupagus: like early 20s?

mardia: Early 20s yeah

mardia: I’d say 22-23

leupagus: so remember how you were at that age when you had a crush on someone

leupagus: and you didn't want people to know WHO but you still wanted to TALK about it

mardia: Lol yes

leupagus: so Colin starts talking about this guy he met

leupagus: named

leupagus

: Brent Crisp

mardia: COLIN

leupagus: Because Isaac asked what's his name then and Colin panicked

leupagus: And when Trent starts hanging around doing the story and/or working for RIchmond or whayever

leupagus: none of the himbos figure out who it is

leupagus: Beard knows instantly and doesn't say shit

leupagus: Roy finds out somehow, probably through Keeley

leupagus: marches into Trent's office and like, lifts him bodily by the collar with his other arm wound back

leupagus: "HAVE YOU BEEN FUCKING COLIN?"

leupagus: Trent: ...no??? put me down???????

leupagus: Roy: Oh. All right

leupagus: and leaves

leupagus: Ted, who was also in the office and just kind of froze up, is like "I'll uh, go uh, talk to him?" and Trent is like "I quit I hate all of these assholes"

mardia: OH NOOOOOO

leupagus: or is it funnier if Roy goes barging into his office with the intention of lifting him up by the collar

leupagus: only to find Ted planting one on Trent

mardia: OMG THE SECOND ONE

leupagus: and being like "oh -OH. Uh. Oh."

mardia: he’s too startled to be outraged

leupagus: Well I think it'd take him about ten seconds

leupagus: and then he'd be like "SO YOU'RE FUCKING TED AND COLIN??"

leupagus: And Trent can make like a revolted face

mardia: “He’s an INFANT, so no”

leupagus: "Colin thinks it's pronounce 'Prowst,' I could never"

leupagus: Ted could be like "I think I can safely say Trent's had very little free time these past few weeks to start a relationship with someone else at Richmond, so"

leupagus: and Trent gets distracted from imminent death at Roy's hands by the word "relationship"

mardia: Omg!!!!!!!

leupagus: THE END

leupagus: Now I can post this on tumblr and never actually have to write it

mardia: Ahahahahah

leupagus: NOT KIDDING

leupagus: CEE AND PEE BABY

[masterthespianduchovny]

I’m going to be honest: I dislike Nate right now.

And that’s perfectly fine.

I understand that this show loves to redeem people, however, as I said in another post, you can only redeem someone if there are negative feelings and/or you believe that person wronged someone or whatever. If you have positive feelings and excuse what they did, what exactly are they being redeemed for?

Despite loving Rebecca’s character, when I rewatch season one, I don’t like her at times. I dislike a lot of what she did back then. It doesn’t matter that I know she tells the truth eventually, the stuff she did was still fucked up. I’m not going to preemptively excuse her actions because I know the end goal.

Take Jamie for instance, his behavior was not okay. We know why he behaves that way, but it still wasn’t justified. We are still allowed to dislike him and what he did then. We talk about the negative effects of the bullying Nate received from the players, yet some try to excuse Nate’s bullying and his actions?

Wrong is wrong. Jamie being verbally abused by his dad didn’t justify how he treated others just like how Nate’s father (and bullying by others) is emotionally abusive doesn’t justify Nate’s behavior.

Although we understand the context, Nate IS being a fucking backstabbing asshole right now. Some may hate to hear that, but this isn’t an unfair opinion or unflattering light of him. This is exactly how he’s behaving.

There are some who has a ton of sympathy for Nate, but I’m not one of them. Please believe, I do hold some sympathy for him, but I have a limit.

So here’s reasons why Nate is on my shitlist and I’ll wait until he’s actually redeemed to forgive him.

1. Calling Rebecca a shrew. It’s not the fact that he literally called Rebecca this, but that he immediately verbally attacked the woman. We can say, “oh no, she’s the owner so he had reasons to think…”

No, Nate literally attacked Rebecca for no reason at all. She had little to no interaction with him and has never disrespected or harmed him in anyway, yet he has these intense feelings of dislike in the moment based off what exactly?

Nate attacked Rebecca because she is a woman. If you disagree, what other reason it might be? The reason I believe it was due to her gender is because she’s been defanged so to speak. So he doesn’t fear her like he used to. But Nate also practices in casual misogyny ie his shoe remark to Rebecca and Keeley. That may not seem like a big thing, but how is that an involuntary response??? With him believing he got fired, he doesn’t wait for answers, he immediately attacks her. And I had to ask myself, would he have done this with a man? With someone like Rupert? No fucking way. Nate can’t even directly challenge Ted who is a ray of sunshine, but attacks someone who he literally ran away from in fear in the pilot. Although Nate respects power, he respects male power the most. He skipped over Ted and Beard and went straight towards Rebecca. The fact that this even happened has always been disturbing to me. And Nate is fucking lucky that he hasn’t said any of his comments to old Rebecca (not age, but personality. 🥺) because she would have fired him. Only due to her relationship with Ted and him getting to let her guard down and find her old self that she frowned and shrugged Nate’s comments off. Most bosses at the very least would’ve talked to Nate and he didn’t get even that.

2. Projecting his daddy issues onto Ted. I understand that nate is going through some tough shit and has been for literally decades, however, that doesn’t mean make someone your stand in dad because they were nice and kind. Ted treats Nate like he does the other coaches, but Nate wants a special and unique relationship that will never exist. Ted is not his father and he didn’t ask for the job or the responsibilities.

I understand that people go through shit and latch onto those who made the rough times easier. I get that. However, all this animosity, scheming, and resentment because Ted isn’t giving the attention he wants. That fucking unfair to Ted. He didn’t ask or sign up to be Nate’s father figure. Yet he’s being punished for not being something he never wanted to be. Never even thought about it.

And because I’ve seen/partially experienced this shit, people getting mad at you for not being who they projected onto, it makes me upset at Nate. Because people like this really do become resentful and manipulative and that is not okay despite their own hurt that they’re dealing with. Why does the person you projected on have to suffer for something they’re unaware of and have no obligation to fulfill?

Nate isn’t just trying to blow up Ted’s professional career, he’s doing it via one of the cruelest ways: using his mental health against him. Thereby exploiting Ted’s trust in him.

Ted has literally changed Nate’s life for the better and rather than have a man to man talk with him, he cowardly tries to sabotage Ted in one of the worst ways imaginable.

3. His cognitive dissonance about how coaching works!!!

This seriously irritates me because, on some level, Nate knows that the very system he’s criticizing is how it works across ALL team sports and with reason.

He wants to be a damn head coach soooo bad—does he think ideas, plans, plays, etc only comes from head coaches???

What does he think assistants are there for?

For those who aren’t familiar with sports and coaching, literally every team sport has a head coach and then assistants under them. These assistant typically specialize in a given thing.

In American football, I believe there are like defensive coaches, strength and conditioning coaches, etc. there are coaches who watch a lot of tapes to learn the opposition and how to make plays to hold them exploit their weakness and tailor plays around that.

Like on the professional level there are so many types of coaches and, hell, not all of them want to be head coaches. Some of the greatest coaching minds aren’t head coaches.

For example, the American basketball team the Chicago bulls fired their coach Doug Collins in like 1989, I think. He was a good coach, but one of his assistant coaches had a basketball IQ out of this world. Doug refused to listen to him, but management fully supported this assistant coach. Now the other assistant coach they were grooming to take over, Phil Jackson, if you’ve heard of him, DID listen to this basketball genius. So much so that when he became head coach after Doug was fired, he continued to implement The Triangle offense that came from this basketball genius, which Phil was known for until he retired.

Nate’s upset that Ted gets all the credit for if they win, he does realize that Ted also gets all the blame for if they lose. Ted has always highlighted his coaching staff and everyone who helped him. He has always stressed that he wouldn’t be where he is without them. And when he loses, he takes full ownership. He doesn’t pass the blame at all.

Does Nate seem like someone who’d take ownership for losing?

Does Nate seem like someone, at this moment, who’d appropriately give credit to assistant or anyone else who helped him?

Would he even listen?

What makes Ted a great coach is that he gives others opportunities to step up to the plate and if/when they succeed, he allows them to shine.

Ted sees the fuller picture, for the most part, and knows how to address his weaknesses and who’s stronger than him in what area. He realized that the team needed a presence like Roy on the team. He knew he needed someone like beard who could absorb insane amounts of knowledge. He saw that Nate had potential coaching ability.

But Nate doesn’t understand the importance or value of this. He also doesn’t understand how instrumental Ted’s philosophy has been in transforming the culture of the team. That this is also a reason why the team is playing better.

So like, yeah, I’ll forgive Nate when he’s redeemed. But these three things are what really irks me about him. Just because I understand why he is acting this way doesn’t mean I have to excuse it when he’s being a dick to others, complaining about shit only due to his ego, and doing fucked up shit like leaking someone’s mental health struggles so he can gain an advantage over them.

Does he think that if Ted leaves/gets fired that he’s getting the job??? I mean hopefully whatever he has going on with Rupert works out (before it inevitably goes wrong) because this isn’t going to turn out how he thinks it will.

[its-time-to-write]

happy new year, ig

don’t hold me like you know me

“Remember when you broke up with me and suddenly my instagram feed was all about how you fucked a model?”

Jamie grimaces. “Do you have to bring that up every fucking time we’re together?”

“Yes,” you reply. “It’s funny to me. And it’s my revenge for you being stupid.”

“Pretty sure you and mum are the only two who find it funny,” he grumbles.

You snuggle closer to him. It’s cold outside, but you’re both bundled up and under two blankets. Plus there’s a fire going and sure, it’s warmer inside where your families are, but it’s quieter out here.

You say, “Nah, Simon thinks it’s hilarious too,” and Jamie groans. 

“I’m a fucking idiot, okay? I get it.”

Your mum looks out the window and you pretend like you don’t notice. Yeah, you probably shouldn’t be out here with him. But she’s the one whose friends with Georgie and she’s the one who made the plans to spend Christmas together knowing full well what you and Jamie had been up to for the past year.

So she can’t really say anything.

It’s stupid. 

It’s so, so stupid. You swore off situationships but apparently Jamie is the exception and you rationalize it by saying you know exactly what you’re doing so it’s fine.

It’s fine.

You’re only here a few days and then Jamie’s going back to training and you’re going back to work.

“Got any plans for the year?” you ask. Jamie shrugs and it moves you around.

“Nah, got some brand deal shit Keeley’s set up but mostly just keep training. Got the fuckin’ World Cup this summer, so…” he trails off.

What he doesn’t say is, so I’ll be near you. You let it hang in the air.

Instead he says, “What about you?”

You watch the flames from the fire curl into the sky. “Yeah, I’ve got a lot going on, I guess. Mostly work. And I’m moving to London in the fall.”

Jamie makes a noise. “Don’t read into it,” you warn before he can say anything. “It’s not for you.”

He sighs. “The fuck are we doing? Shouldn’t be this hard. We both fucking like each other. What if we tried again?”

You laugh. “Jamieee. Absolutely not. We barely made it out last time. I’m actually not sure we did, to be honest. And our mums would be fucking pissed if we messed it up again.”

He’s quiet at that. Too quiet.

“How’s Roy Kent?” you ask in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Hairy old prick,” Jamie mutters out of habit. “Wants us to fucking win the Prem and the Champions League, like we ain’t fuckin’ trying.”

You laugh. “I’m assuming he’s also thinking about the World Cup?”

Jamie groans. “Don’t fucking remind me. I want to win all that shit too, but Royo’s sadistic. Got us training extra. Beard isn’t any better, either. Always got his nose in some fucking book.”

He’s complaining, but you know he doesn’t mean it. He loves this shit. And you’re glad the team’s stable from Ted’s move back to America.

“Got you something,” he says after a few more minutes of silence. He gently pushes you off him so he can reach into his pocket. 

You take the box from his hand and open it. It’s surprising. You’d already finished opening gifts, nothing particularly extravagant, and you certainly hadn’t expected anything else from Jamie. And definitely not as direct as this.

“Jamie,” you breathe, “how did you know?”

He grins as you look up to meet his eyes. “Asked around,” he replies. “Knew you’ve been wanting that bracelet forever and you’re too fucking stubborn to get it for yourself, so.”

He motions for you to hand it back to him, and you do. He takes it out and you extend your wrist. He fastens it gently. “You’ve gotta do more shit for yourself, yeah? Promise me.”

“Maybe,” you whisper, and he gives you a look. “Fine. But Jamie-”

“Kid,” he sighs.

“Don’t call me kid,” you warn. “You’re younger than me.”

“That’s why it’s fucking hilarious.”

“Jamie,” you try again. “Do you actually want to keep doing this? We see each other at the most random, inopportune times then we… you know…” you trail off.

“Fuck,” he interjects and you smack his arm. 

Ow, he mouths.

“Look. You never date anyone. Everyone’s always speculating about it, and you never do. And I just wonder- I mean, I don’t want to presume but it seems like-”

“It is,” he says. “Can’t fucking be with someone else when I think about you all the time, can I?”

You wrinkle your nose. “Jamie Tartt. That is the stupidest line you’ve ever pulled.”

He’s already shaking his head before you’re done speaking. “Ain’t a line.”

Georgie looks through the window and smiles at the pair of you. It’s getting colder, and you’ll have to go inside soon, but you want to finish this conversation. You aren’t sure when you’ll have Jamie like this again.

“Why did you break up with me?”

He looks away at the fire, the sky, anything that isn’t your face. “Dunno.”

“Liar.”

He looks back. “You need someone better. I got scared. Same shit as always.”

You wrinkle your nose again. “That’s shit. Try again.”

Jamie toys with the bracelet on your wrist. You should slap him away, you should.

You don’t.

“I did get scared,” he says again. “Fucking… terrified. Been in love with you since I were eight and following you around, weren’t I? Everyone says shit like I don’t know what I’m doing, I fucking need to play the field or what fucking ever, and I guess I… listened. Then felt fucking guilty as shit.” 

Neither of you are crying. It’s not that type of conversation.

“So.”

“So,” he echoes.

“We’re getting married,” he comments when you don’t say anything more, and that makes you laugh.

You push yourself out of Jamie’s arms and head to the door. “That’s ridiculous of you to say. And I’m cold. I’m changing and then I’m going out, want to come? Luiza texted.”

Jamie looks at you, and you can tell he’s debating his options carefully.

“Sure,” he finally says, the words puffing out of his mouth into the freezing air. “Sure.”

[talldecafcappuccino]

Title: Between Close Friends

Rating: General Audience

Chapters: 1/1

Relationship: Ted Lasso/Rebecca Welton

Summary: Ted is bad at social media, but is that a bad thing?

Ted, what the fuck are you doing????

Ted peers at his phone, rubbing sleep from his eyes and reads the message again.

He scrolls down and sees he has twelve more texts and three missed calls all from Keeley Jones. He turns off his nighttime notifications with a few exceptions for emergency contacts, so it’s not surprising he slept through the messages.

He scratches at the stubble along his cheek and checks his clock. It’s seven o’clock here in Kansas, so it must be . . . early afternoon in London. He thinks through the last day, but he can’t remember anything interesting enough to have Keeley on the case.

Henry came over to his extended-stay hotel, they went to an American football game, got a late dinner in downtown Wichita, and watched a movie before bed.

They did make it on the Jumbotron for the Lasso-off, the team’s half-time dance contest, but his moves weren’t especially embarrassing. At least not in his opinion. Unless one of the moves was actually an insult to the English in which case, oh jeeze, he needs to get on this quick.

The call barely connects before Keeley’s voice echoes in his ear.

“Oy! Ted!”

“Keeley, I am so sorry for whatever I did to offend the great people of the United Kingdom. I am ready to make a statement and an apology tour as soon as you tell me which dance move I need to retire immediately.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I need you to log out of the AFC Richmond Instagram account. Like, now.”

That stops Ted in his tracks.

Does he even have access to that? He remembers a post-it note of accounts and passwords from Beard on their first day with Richmond.

There was an account run by the previous manager, but Keeley had taken it over long ago, converting it to the official team account. She had also made Ted a personal Instagram for his own use and brand development, but he never posted publicly.

He puts her on speaker phone and opens the Instagram app. She’s right. He’s logged into the team account with all 25 million followers. Well, shoot.

There are about a dozen stories posted from last night. All of Ted and Henry’s day together. There’s puns (“having a cow” at dinner with an image of Henry holding up a beef rib and screaming his head off), Ted and Henry singing at a dueling piano bar, the two brushing their teeth together in the bathroom mirror.

“No offense, but I think this may delay the Tom Ford deal you asked me about.”

“Yeah. I get that.”

“It’s just, you know, dads aren’t quite their brand. Or our brand. I mean we’re not anti-dorky dad, but you know with the whole comeback narrative during the season hiatus . . .”

“No I get it. You’ve put a lot of work into rebranding this team and I just undermined that.”

She sighs, but it’s fond.

“Sorry, Ted. It’s not like what you posted was bad, it’s rather sweet actually. It’s just a little different from the posts I had scheduled.”

Ted nodded. It wasn’t the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to him, but he felt bad for making Keeley’s job harder than it needed to be.

“No, I’m sorry Keeley. I swear, it won’t happen again.”

****

“Can you believe what Ted did last night? I’ve never seen someone so bad at social media.”

Rebecca has no idea what Keeley is talking about when she walks into her office. She flops onto the couch, feet splayed on the coffee table, clearly exhausted by whatever Ted has done from 4,438 miles away.

“So many puns. Which, don't get me wrong, I love word play more than most people. But I don’t think it’s right for the team right now.”

Rebecca shuts her laptop.

“You’re right about puns not being part of the team plan, but what’s this about Ted? What did he do, exactly?”

Ted hasn’t posted anything in at least 24 hours. Not that Rebecca is keeping track.

“Oh he managed to switch to the team account on Instagram and posted about his entire evening out with Henry. It was quite sweet, actually. The ones that made sense,” but then she pulled a face.”He’s like, really, really bad at social media.”

Oof. Well that isn’t great, but Rebecca doesn’t think there’s anything particularly terrible about Ted’s social media use normally.

“But everything seems under control? No big PR actions needed.”

“It’s fine. I had him log out and wrote a post about Coach Lasso’s surprise social media takeover from America.”

Rebecca nods. Okay, so it was all sorted. Keeley has things totally under control.

But she reaches for her phone anyway. She opens Instagram, taps through the AFC Richmond stories, and snorts at the image of Henry with the rib as big as his head.

“Are people at least being kind?” Rebecca hopes Ted logged out without seeing any messages about Henry. Not that she could see any reason for it, but people were shitheads on the internet.

“Well, wanker is still the most common response. But many of them are wanker with a little heart at the end, so I think it’s fine. We actually got a lot of responses, proper engagement and all that,” she looks up at the ceiling, considering it for a moment before rolling her head to look back at Rebecca.

“If we weren’t trying to present the team as a badass phoenix rising from the ashes, I’d say a Ted takeover isn’t a bad idea. He just needs some supervision. Maybe a phone with a better camera.”

Rebecca is only half listening as she taps to the next story.

“Aw, they went to dueling piano night. That must have been fun for Henry.”

She’s smiling at her phone when Keeley asks, “Dueling piano night?”

“Yeah, you know at Jim Bob’s Bar.”

Keeley is looking at her blankly.

“Fine. I know it’s not really Jim Bob’s bar. It’s probably not even a bar if Henry’s there. But I can’t remember the real name off the top of my head.”

She’d looked it up once, after Ted first posted about the dueling pianos. For some reason she started calling it Jim Bob’s. Ted didn’t seem bothered and had even started calling it that himself.

When she looks up again, Keeley is staring at her, eyes narrowed.

“What are you talking about?”

“What do you mean?”

“How do you know so much about some bar in Kansas?”

That gives Rebecca pause. She isn’t sure what Keeley means by the line of questioning.

“It’s not some totally random bar. Ted posts about it whenever he goes for dueling pianos.”

If he gets to the bar early or she has a particularly late evening, Rebecca catches the story before going to bed. When she does, she always asks him to put in $5 for Wannabee by the Spice Girls. She owes him a small fortune by now, but it’s worth it to see the bar explode with cheers and jeers.

Some nights she misses the story, but he puts money in anyways and she wakes up to a shaky video of, Yo, I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want.

Rebecca thinks this is a good enough explanation, but Keeley is still staring at her.

“I’ve literally no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Keeley, you know social media is not my thing. All I know is that sometimes Ted posts about this bar on his tiny friends list thing,” she waves her hand around, trying her best to describe it. “The one with the green ring around it.”

Keeley leaps to her feet, eyes wide.

“Am I not on Ted’s Close Friends list??”

Before Rebecca can say a word, Keeley is halfway out the door, texting furiously.

“Roy, better not be on there, if I’m not on there. Ted knows how I feel about being left out!” she shouts over her shoulder. “Sorry Rebecca, I need to do some investigating, asap.”

Oof. She may have just created a problem. It’s probably best to give Ted a heads up before Keeley gets through interrogating Roy.

She drafts a text once, twice, then deletes it and presses call instead.

“Hey Boss, let me guess. Keeley got a hold of you?”

It’s been a while since they’ve chatted, what with the time difference. It’s bizarre how familiar his American accent has become.

“She just left my office, yes.”

There’s a loud crack in the background and a metal clang.

“Where are you?”

“Oh, just the batting cages with Henry,” he says, cheering loudly. “Hey, do you guys have a sport called baseball that has nothing to do with American baseball? You know, like football and football?”

She chuckles, “I don’t believe we do. However there is always cricket.”

He hums, considering it.

“Now Ted, I think there’s something you should know.”

“Lay it on me Boss. I know I caused a headache this morning, what’s the damage? What do you need me to do? I am at your disposal or I’ll lay really, really low as long as you need me to.”

“It’s not that Ted. It’s Keeley.”

“Keeley?”

“Yes, she’s on a bit of a mission at the moment. It seems you left her off your Close Friends list? I think that’s right. On Instagram?”

“Huh. How did that come up?”

“I was telling her about Jim Bob’s. Apparently she had never heard of it and realized you had a whole social media life she was unaware of.”

“Right . . .”

“So do what you will with that.”

“You haven’t talked to anyone else about this yet, have you?”

Rebecca is confused by this new direction.

“No. Why? Ted, is something wrong?”

It takes a long moment for Ted to respond.

“What can I say, I’m just really bad at this social media stuff.”

It's a non-response and an overly folksy one at that. But Rebecca can’t be fooled by the aw shucks routine—not anymore. She tries again.

“Ted. Who is on your close friends list?”

“Uh. Not a lot of people.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“What can I say?” He huffs, a little frustrated. She would feel bad for prying, but she can't help herself. “The list of people I want to share silly life things with is small.”

“How small?” she wonders.

“Very small.”

The line goes silent and Rebecca swears she lost him. But then she hears him take a deep breath.

“It’s you. You’re the list.”

Rebecca feels flush. That’s not where she was expecting this conversation to go.

“I know that might be a lot. You don’t have to say anything. I just, that’s the honest truth and I’d like to get ahead of it before Keeley harangues the entire team.”

It’s a lot to take in, but it makes sense. Sometimes when she’s watching his posts, she wonders about his audience. Who else cares about his biscuit recipe improvements or Broadway Sundays (a recent development that’s turned into a shared movie night.)

“Rebecca?”

She realizes she’s been quiet for a while. The moment feels tenuous and she worries about saying the wrong thing, sending him running faster than Keeley during a social media snafu.

Finally she settles on, “You know, you’re welcome to text me silly life things. It wouldn’t be a bother.”

She brushes invisible crumbs from her desk, listening carefully to his breathing on the other end of the line.

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Maybe I can send some, too?”

Rebecca can hear his smile from across the Atlantic.

“Well, alright then.”

****

That night, Ted’s phone pings and he rolls over to see a text message from Rebecca. It’s a picture of the sun rising over her garden wall.

Something silly to start the day.

But it doesn’t feel silly. Not at all.

[detectivedreameater]

You Like Jazzcuzzis?|| Tommy and Marley

TIMING: Happy Hour PARTIES: @wrightnotwrcng and @detectivedreameater SUMMARY: Mara vs. Bugbear Ultimate Smackdown 2020! Tickets on sale today only! We’ll sell you the WHOLE SEAT but you’ll only need the edge!  CONTENT: Blood mentions, mara slander :/

It wasn’t often lately that Marley could catch enough of a break to enjoy a day off at the bar. She used to frequent all the ones down on Amity-- they were good places to pick people up, or even catch someone in an act that would leave them in her debt, sometimes both-- but lately, too much had been going on for her to want to. Usually, she’d just head home and flop onto her couch. She needed to go back there anyways to make sure JD was fed and hadn’t chewed through her furniture, and at that point, she’d either just call up Anita, or Jane, or Lydia. But now, most of them were out of commission and Marley still felt a strange burning feeling whenever she asked Anita over. So she’d opted for a bar today, on her day off. She’d practically forced herself to take today off, after everything that had happened with jane and the disastrous bowling excursion. There wasn’t much going on at Shanahan’s during the day, but she didn’t altogether mind the quiet. She did, however, notice the man in the corner that had been casting glances her way the entire time. With a sigh, she decided she did have the patience to take a man home today, and she picked up her drink, sauntering over. Slid into the seat next to him, not looking at him yet, before saying, “I see you’ve got an eye for the top shelf.” Pointedly not saying whether she meant his drink of choice or herself. Raised a brow, finally turning to look at him out of the corner of her eye, hidden well behind dark glasses. “Come here often?”

A cop had been digging into things she shouldn't have, and obviously that was nothing new for Tommy and Roy’s operation— but it was still something that needed to be addressed. So here he was at the same bar one Marley Stryder had decided to frequent in the day off from her work. If you could call it work. Tommy wasn’t entirely sure that being a narc was a job, probably more of a personality flaw. The repeated looks had thankfully done their job, bringing his prey to him as she walked her way over to the bugbear, and opened the conversation. You had to let the woman think it was her idea to start things like this. Otherwise, they’d never listen. “You saying I have good taste?” She’d be right. He had a decent eye for a good bit of flesh and bone. Tommy gave her a quick once over while he chewed on the toothpick stuck between his teeth. She did look like she’d make a nice little snack. Maybe a little tough or stringy if her demeanor was anything to go off of. But that’s what the toothpick was for. “Tommy,” he said simply, offering her a hand to shake in a cocky maneuver. “You like jacuzzis?”

The question struck her as odd at first, but she’d heard odder. Marley took his hand and shook it. His shake was firm, his palm slightly callous. Someone who liked to work with their hands. Well, that boded well for her, didn’t it? Settling into her seat, she took another sip of her drink before giving him a sidelong glance. “Jacuzzis can be nice,” she said, “if you have the right company.” The words still settled strangely in her stomach, like they were wrong, like saying them to someone else was wrong-- but she opted to ignore that feeling for now. She needed a goddamn break, and she wasn’t going to let anything take her out of that mindset. “I’m Marley. So what about you? Are you a jacuzzi enthusiast?”

About now would be when Tommy usually mentioned that he preferred jacuzzis filled with blood or some other vaguely unsettling substance, just to plant that first little seed of uneasiness to set someone on edge, to trigger that prickling along the neck of their spine. Then later— it would blossom into a full blown fear, and he’d have his meal for the night. But that wasn’t what he was here for on this particular evening. No, he was meant to reel this one in, not frighten her off. “Oh, it’s all to do with company.” If you got someone who didn’t scream enough, if just didn’t make for the same experience. Where was the thrill? The drama? “And you could say that,” he offered back with a smile that was always sharp. Grinning was one thing Tommy felt like he hadn’t entirely gotten down pat after making the switch from bear to human. “Do you wanna know what enthuses me even more, though?” 

A grin sat awkwardly on his face, almost as if it didn’t belong there. But his jaw was set and chiseled, and he had the kind of eyes that would draw anyone in. Marley saw these from an outside perspective and appreciated them. It didn’t even occur to her that there was anything else behind his intentions, the weariness of the week weighing down on her and closing her eyes to what she would have normally seen in plain view. Instead, she wanted to play with his wit and his words and possibly later, his sharp smile. “You know, I think I do,” she said back, with a lowered voice, keen and intrigued. Sometimes it was fun to play with your food first, despite what anyone said. Not that she entirely planned on feeding on him, but she found herself more lax with rules when it came to men. Food and fuck was easier to come by with them, after all. “Tell me?”

That strange grin on Tommy’s lips only grew wider as she continued to dive deeper into the conversation, the woman obviously thinking they were going to have a different sort of snack tonight. And though Tommy generally only slept with humans if he was planning on eating them, he might have made an exception for her. He didn’t feel any prickles of fear coming from her yet, which he supposed was a good sign. If she’d scared easily, she would have made a lousy operative for Roy. “Then I’ll tell you,” he echoed back in that same low voice, figuring that if she was having fun with the game she’d made of this back and forth, there was no reason to break it. “I love a woman who takes things into her own two hands, and isn’t afraid of the consequences.” Just like she’d done with the evidence and Erin Nichols. “But a person who knows how to deal with the consequences if they do come up. Like the jack in a box of consequences, you know? Who doesn’t love a good jack in the box? Would you know anything about that?” Then, as if he hadn’t just spoken about being a dirty cop, Tommy was ordering another drink from the bartender before looking towards Marley. “And what’ll it be for you?”

Marley liked a man that could keep up with her, too. She wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of that satisfaction and say it, though, so she just listened. Until his tilted metaphor hit her ears and she felt her skin bristle. It was not fear, no-- she did not fear much-- but it was something close. It was an anxiety that made her heart thrum a little faster than she wanted it to. He was asking her what drink she wanted now and the bartender was standing in front of them and she blinked from her haze and tried to smile. “Another of the same,” she managed to say in time to make it not seem suspicious, to feign as if she weren’t thrown off-guard by his sudden words. When the bartender left to make their new drinks, she lowered her voice again and turned to face him more squarely. Was this a threat? How did he know? She wasn’t reading too into his words, was she? “I’m not entirely sure what you mean,” she said, “I find jack in the boxes to be rather boring, actually. Something so simple could never catch my attention.” 

This had to be a careful thing. Tommy didn’t want her to think he was accusing her of anything. “Don’t worry,” he said quickly, hands raised and open as if showing he didn’t have anything threatening within them. “Think of me as a fan, an admirer of your work, you know? I don’t know if I’d have been able to do what you did with the information. I’m not going to tattle on you. I just wanted to let you know that I thought it was almost as cool as a jacuzzi.” Then he leaned back into his chair, scratching at his beard with an almost pensive thought. “Nahh, jack in the boxes are so unpredictable they could never be boring. They get people when they least expect it, you know? They get that little spark of alarm and then they laugh. Isn’t it kinda funny? How everyone laughs right after they get scared?” Sometimes he just loved to bite down on someone right after they’d begun to laugh, to feel that last bit of fear draining away into relief, only for it to turn to fear again as their bones crunched under his jaws. A wistful sigh fell from the bugbear, as if he were already planning on how he’d make the daydreams come true once he was done here.

His words somehow brought little relief. Marley didn’t like the idea that anyone knew what she’d done, and her mind scratched through itself to try and figure out how he did. Unless he was someone else on the inside, it didn’t seem possible. Unless… She straightened in her chair. His demeanour was too relaxed, she realized. He must have thought he had the upper hand here. And it was with sound clarity that she remembered he did. Daylight trickled through the windows and aggravated her skin. She was not powerless, though. She would need to play this one carefully. “I’ve heard that it’s a natural response to fear,” she said slowly, taking her drink and sipping it. Squeezing the glass hard to hide the shake in her hand. “Laughing. Just as it is a response to pain.” She took one more drink. “So,” she then said, turning her eyes on him. “If you’re not here to rat me out, then what are you here for?”

It was hard for Tommy to remember a time when he’d feared someone or something. He wasn’t in the business of experiencing the lesser emotion, not when he was the one responsible for doling it out. “Hey, I’ve heard the same exact thing,” he replied with the smallest chuckle. “Still kinda funny though, isn’t it?” But it was time for them to get to the meat of the matter. “Like I said, I’m a big fan! I’d love to get to see some of your work up close and personal! Maybe even on some sort of tag team situation some time, you know? We could make it mutually beneficial for the both of us.” It’d be foolish to expose the entire underbelly of Roy’s organization off the bat, not when he didn’t have a single reason to trust the woman in front of him, even if she wasn’t exactly the most moral of cops, apparently. “So what do you say? You could show me some of your’s, and we could show you some of our’s, and I’m sure it’d be great fun! We’d make it worth your while obviously. Whatever you want it, you name it. We can get it for you.”

He wanted her on his side. After everything that had happened, Roy Chambers had really sent someone to ask her if she wanted to join his side. Marley’s hand tightened so hard around the glass she worried it might break in her hand. Through clenched teeth, she tried to smile. Play it cool. Play it cool. She drew in a breath and held it. “Very funny,” she answered, jaw clicking. “You know what else is funny?” She held herself up a little higher, sipping her drink casually now. Let the alcohol linger on her lips for a moment before she swallowed. “You boss thinking that I want anything to do with the people who killed my fucking partner.” So much for subtle. She slammed her glass on the counter, hard, and turned to look at him with a vicious stare, her eyes flickering as she looked into his. But nothing happened. There was no spark, no dissolving of the world around them as fear took over, and with a profound clarity, Marley realized she’d found herself face to face with the only creature who could resist her gaze. 

“Shit,” she muttered. In the next second, she had jumped out of her chair, spun it around, and kicked it at him, reaching down to draw her gun, hoping against all odds she could draw it faster than he could react. It wasn’t likely.

Another sigh dropped from Tommy as Marley dropped the word partner. He hadn’t told the bugbear that little detail. Or maybe he hadn’t realized. Either way, it was inconvenient— and probably not entirely conducive to bringing the woman onto their side. Oh well. Might as well have a bit of fun now, right? And fun there was to be had. As the mara’s eyes flickered in and out, a slow smile spread over Tommy’s lips? “A mara? Aww, are you sure you don’t wanna join?!” he yelled as he launched himself over the bar, landing behind it for cover at the moment. “Just think of all the fun we could have! Together!” Of course mara were inferior to bugbears, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t always a good time teaming up with one. Of all supernatural species, the hags understood best what it was to feel that glorious river of fear manifesting in a person. While her gun was raised, another delicious idea came over Tommy. “Get down, she’s crazy!” he yelled out to the other bar patrons, feeling their worry instantly spark. And then came the loud bang of gunshots, a few of them in quick succession as the auditory illusion rang out through the bar. Panic began to flare, sprouting on his tongue like a lovely and flirtatious appetizer. Now that was good. Like honey to a— well, a bear. With another flex of his abilities, fake flames sprang up in front of the exit to the bar, seemingly trapping those that were trying to escape. And then Tommy began his shift.

The man’s laugh rang out around her. Bugbear, of fucking course. Cheap, stupid animals, the lot of them. Thinking their parlor tricks and illusions were worth anything. His powers didn’t work on her, though. Marley did not see his fire or hear his fake gunshots. Her weapon was drawn, but she did not fire yet. People needed to get out, first. As she moved towards them, gun still trained on the man hiding behind the bar, people started moving out of the way. Hurriedly, frightened, tripping over themselves and the chairs in their way. “Get out, now!” she shouted, “Police!” They were screaming, stopping at the doorway. Shit. There must’ve been an illusion there. “Just go!” she shouted at them, shoving someone through, turning herself away from him for just a moment to get them out. “It’s not real!” 

Then she heard the ripping of cloth, the groan of wood being displaced. Glass shattering as a form too large to fit into a space a human once stood was filled with that of a bear. Fuck. Fuck. She stood her ground between the panicking people and the bear and for the first time, she felt a hiccup of fear. “Get down!” she shouted behind her, and fired. But bullets, she remembered, were nothing to a bear. She was nothing to a bear.

The droplet of fear working its way through Marley was all Tommy needed. He couldn’t harm creatures that weren’t afraid, but even an ounce of terror would be more than enough to do them in when it came to his teeth and caws. A grizzly bear the length of a truck bed, and the width of at least three people roared it’s way out from behind the bar, already lumbering towards Marley. A bullet caught him in the shoulder, but it wasn’t anything of major consequence at the moment. Another roar filled the bar, resulting in a direct spike of fear from those still trying to find a method of escape. Tommy drove the flames higher, the literal picture of a devil forming from them, and rushing itself into the faces of the ones closest to the door, and those that were heeding Marley’s words. A scream went up from them, and Tommy rushed the cop, raising a paw of razor-sharp claws to try and swipe across her face.

“Don’t look at it!” Marley shouted, twisting to push more people through whatever invisible fire they were shouting about. More intense screaming and Marley was scrambling. Something in her was urging her to stay where she was, even when she heard the roar and the entire bar shook. She needed to make sure these people go out first, that was her job, her duty. She’d never cared about something like this before, it had always just been about her. Her own survival. Her own self. The bear barreled straight through her warning shot and at the last moment, she moved to the side, away from the people, leading him off from them. Raised her gun, but-- claws swiped hard and angry across her face. It didn’t burn right away, but the sting of it was felt as soon as air rushed in. The crack of her neck as her head whipped to the side and her body was thrown against a booth, landing on the table, echoed in the bar. More glass shattered, plates flying off the table. Hot, sticky blood poured from her face. Her gun lay on the other side of the bear. She pressed a palm to her face and winced. People continued to scream. The bear was still here. She needed to get him away from them. 

Tommy hadn’t had a meal this good in weeks. All these people in the bar were just ripe for the plucking, and a very large part of him was considering abandoning Marley all together just to take a little nip of one of the establishment’s guests. Hold on, had that guy peed his pants? A strange and harh bark of bear laughter rumbled through Tommy as he took in the sight, absolutely reveling in the chaotic fear. The blood on his claws only added to the beauty of the symphony of fear, but it also served as a reminder. The mara was probably the biggest threat in the place, even if her abilities were rendered useless against him. So again he rushed her, another great bellow ripping itself from his maw as he aimed to chomp down on the arm that held her gun.

He was momentarily distracted by the rushing panic of the patrons. Most of them were outside now. Good. She could concentrate on this stupid fucking bear now. Marley pushed herself up with a groan. Blood was running down her face, her neck, staining her clothes. Thank god she wasn’t wearing white. Blue smeared across her dark skin, plastering her hair to her face. The bear was charging again and she extended her leg, heel kicking a chair into his path. It wouldn’t stop him, but slow him down. A chair, after all, was no match for a bear. And neither was she. She jumped from the table to the bar top, air wheezing from her lungs as she met the wood countertop hard, before flinging herself over. She heard the bear crash into just where she’d been, his jaw clicking closed so hard in the space where she’d just been she heard them. She grabbed a bottle from the shelf and winged it straight at his face. Then another. And another. Moving along the wall, searching for her gun. Inching towards the exit. Dammit, why didn’t she have her radio on her? She needed back up. She needed to get out of here. What she wouldn’t give to be able to turn intangible and escape, what she wouldn’t give to be like Felix and disappear into shadows.

Tommy barely noticed the chair, barreling through it as his jaws closed onto empty air. A small growl of frustration later, and he was beginning to question whether or not this woman was worth the trouble. Most of his snacks were gone now, and though he’d certainly hunt down a few of them later by scent— it would have been more fun if he’d gotten to maul them here, especially in front of the other patrons and Marley. She was trying for the exit, and he wasn’t about to let all of his little toys escape in this madness. Bolting for the door, he turned in front of it, using his giant bear mass to create a blockade of fur and teeth. Then he raised himself to his hind legs and full height, paws splayed with claws glistening in the low light of the bar as he launched the full force of his body towards the mara, aiming to crush her. 

The bottles smashed uselessly against his hide. Fucking bears. Marley dove down to reach for her gun but by the time she’d made her way to the end of the bar, the bear was there again. Fuck it. She wasn’t dying here. She dove to the gun and bear paws came down right where she’d been. The cool metal of her glock slid into her hand and she pressed it against his side and fired once. It echoed loud in her head and she managed, just barely, to move herself out of the way as the full weight of the bear came down. Something crunched in her leg and she cried out, struggling to move herself from under him. Used her other foot to push against him, trying to free herself. If those claws came swiping again, she wasn’t sure she could move in time to not meet their full ire. So instead, she took the preemptive and aimed the gun at his head, ready to pull the trigger, blood smearing over one eye, clouding her vision. “Get fucked!” she shouted, and pulled the trigger. Sirens wailed in the distance.

The sound of the detective crunching underneath Tommy was enough to bring another jubilant roar from his lungs, all too thrilled with the strikes he’d gotten in. As Marley’s foot caught purchase and pushed, he simply pushed back, leaning his weight on the leg he’d heard that glorious and telltale sound from. Hm. The gun was back. As it came into the corners of his sight, Tommy jerked his massive head to the side, avoiding a shot to the brain, but feeling a flicker of annoyance as the bullet singed a trail across his shoulder. It was times like these that he wished he could talk in his bear form. He would have loved reminding Marley that getting fucked was exactly what she’d been trying to do in the beginning of their encounter. Unfortunately, it wasn’t meant to be. The sound of sirens was enough to give Tommy pause, ears pricked to the sound of their approach. Marley would have been easy enough to handle, but an entire brigade of cops? It was most likely best if he scattered now, went after the cop another day when she was alone in some dark alley, and he could really savor the kill. Raising himself up once more, he tried to side-swipe Marley away, to bat her aside like a horse would bat a fly. Then he was making a break for the door of the bar, shattering through it with brute force.

The bear was much bigger and stronger than her, which was expected. But in all her life, Marley had never imagined herself having to fight one. She supposed she’d have to rethink her life plans at this point, then, and make sure she knew how to better fight a bear. She was actually a little disappointed in herself for not thinking of it earlier. Bugbears were a thorn in her side since she’d found out what she was, and even Peter had told her to beware of them and their ability to be unaffected by her own abilities. She loathed it in this moment, as she watched the bear swipe at her again. She was on her back, too vulnerable to move much more than curling into a ball to embrace some of the impact. Though claws did not dig into skin this time, the weight of just one paw soaring through the air was enough to toss her from the ground and into the bartop. She hung upside for a moment, though it felt like hours, before her body crashed back to the ground and the world came with it, spinning in every direction. She could feel hot blood pouring up her face now, smearing into her hair. Shit, she’d have to wash that off later. She heard wood splintering and glass breaking and more screams, and then loud sirens. But no more bear.

She stayed laying there for a long moment, waited until she saw the shoes of her comrades rushing in through the destroyed doors and into the desecrated bar. Someone was saying her name, but she couldn’t focus enough to hear them. They would see her blood if she didn’t move. She needed to get out of there. But when she tried to move, her body was too stiff and too bruised. She just needed to rest for a moment. Close her eyes just for a moment. And then, she’d get back up and she’d hunt that stupid fucking bear down and she’d shoot him in the face. See how he liked it.

[milk-luvr-dot-com]

“A New Assistant” - The Thick Of It - Chapter 3

Summary: Nicola juggles a grieving redhead and a moronic, neurotic press advisor. Ivy and Malcolm have a falling out.

Word Count (this chapter): 5108

Rating: Mature (For adult situations, language)

Warnings: No Ao3 Warnings, Explicit Language, homophobic language, fatphobic language, sexist language, ablest language, implied/referenced past abuse

Categories: F/M, Gen

Tags: Falling in love, crushes, comedy, slow burn, explicit language, original  female characters, AU - canon divergence, mutual pining, friendship, friends to lovers, angst, implied/referenced past abuse, additional tags to be added

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Full chapter and Ao3 link under the cut.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24510592/chapters/59509222

Ivy and Malcolm walked down the halls of the hotel, briskly, and popping along the way to say hello to mindless news people and other members of the cabinet, who were all nervously preparing and memorizing speeches. Ivy wasn't sure why Malcolm had invited her. She was gonna be like a bump on a log the whole weekend, since she was still too new to fully deal with the press on her own. Maybe Malcolm saw it as a training opportunity. Maybe he just wanted to not deal with a bunch of bullshit this weekend. Maybe he just wanted to spend time with her.

The latter was what was actually true. Malcolm just wanted to spend time alone with Ivy. I mean, it wasn't weird to invite your assistant with you to the party conference, right? It wasn't weird to get a room with two twin beds. Right?

Well, actually. Touch of a problem with that. As sitcom as it is, when they opened the door to the room, there was only one bed. A queen size bed. It's as if the fucking people who booked the hotel were trying to tell them something. It was actually pretty likely, rather, because they both had recently pissed off one of the desk jockeys in the department. It wouldn't have been hard to make a quick last-minute change.

"You're actually fucking kidding me, right?" Malcolm said, massaging the bridge of his nose as they entered.

"I'll sleep on the couch."

"What? No. No, I'll just call and ask for a room change. Hang on." He set his small suitcase down and made his way over to the side of the bed with the phone. He sunk in immediately. The bed creaked dreadfully. He cringed.

She sat about 3/4 of the way down the bed on the opposite side of him.

"Hello, sorry, is it possible we could get a room change? You see it's just that-... Jesus Christ, you're kidding. FUCK!" He slammed the phone down, rubbing his face. She whipped her head around. "Hm?"

"They're completely booked. No other rooms."

"Looks like I'm sleeping on the couch, then." She shrugged, looking back and staring at the painting hanging on the wall above the dresser. It had blues coinciding with a dash of yellow, a close-up of a field of forget-me-not flowers. "Pretty painting."

Malcolm was lost in thought, staring at the neutral carpet grain that hadn't been changed since the 70s. "Huh?"

"That painting. It's pretty. I don't know the name of those flowers. And trust me, I've seen a lot of flowers, I used to work in the funeral industry."

He turned, shifting further down the bed. "They look familiar." Ivy looked over at him, confused. "My mother used to garden. I'd help her occasionally."

She smiled, in a snarky manner. "Malcolm Tucker's a poof."

"Shut up. Right," he clapped, rising. "We've got to get a wiggle on, we've got reporters to jack off."

She stood up as well, following him. "A wiggle on?"

"You know what I mean. Come on, come on, come on."

  They met up with some press people, among other friendly faces. It was still fairly early. T minus 2 hours until Nicola inevitably embarrasses herself.

"I mean, these are the worst pictures I've seen, really, they are. I don't know who was taking them." He pointed to one of his mates' ID badge photos. The bloke picked it up, looking at it briefly. "They've got Roy fucking Orbison doing that."

"I've heard he wasn't even blind." Ivy added, elbowing him. She was purposefully trying to embarrass him, as a joke. 

"Malcolm?" The woman who's badge read Angela Heaney inquired.

"Yeah?"

"Have you seen Rob Holt's blog today?"

"Oh, yeah, of course, I read Rob Holt's blog. I read all the blogs. 'Cause basically I'm an underemployed fat fucking loser. Got nothing better to do with my time than sit in my bedroom like a fat space-hopper in a tracksuit, reading inconsequential, unspellchecked shit, fabricated by other fat, farting, fucking losers."

Ivy pressed her lips together, going wide eyed briefly to show her annoyance, albeit agreement. Angela began to explain, "Well, he's saying that the big health numbers in the PM's speech, they're from a false sample. Apparently, they're lifted from Andrew Dover's blog, not ONS."

Malcolm shot a look at Ivy, who immediately pretended to take a call, and walk off. "I wouldn't take any notice of it. There's nothing in that at all." He said.

"Nothing?"

"Nope, nothing. Catch you laters, alright?" He walked away, joining Ivy, who looked at him as soon as she said, "Whoever fucking leaked it is going to be leaking drool for the next six months after I've beat them into a shell of a human with a golf club. Fix it, or you'll hear worse from Malcolm. Right. Bye."

"Jesus. You're really hurling the colorful insults now."

She brushed past him, and began walking to their next destination. He followed. "Well, I learned from the best."

“Okay. So,” He clapped, “I need to phone the PM and tell him.”

“Uh, we could go up to the halls. No one’s up there.”

“Yes, right,” he pointed at her, “good. Get away from all these leeching journalists.” 

They took the lift up a couple levels. Ivy didn’t expect him to stay near the lifts. No, Malcolm liked pacing. She wasn’t sure if it was a nervous habit of his (because she wasn’t sure if Malcolm was ever nervous,) or if walking around just made him feel important. Either scenario was realistic.

They lurked around the halls. Ivy was pretty sure their room was nearby. Maybe she’d pressed the same button as before by muscle memory. She could hear background chatter from various rooms of important people cheersing and toasting for important causes. But it was mostly drowned out by Malcolm’s stern voice. Being honest with herself, Malcolm was more important than anyone in those rooms.

She expected to get ambushed at least once by some eavesdropping journalist, like Nicola did. Oh, who was she kidding, Malcolm wouldn’t let that happen. He’s got a stick far too up his arse for that. He was like a light sleeping soldier in a warzone with that sort of thing.

What they did get ambushed by, instead was the crack-addicted Timothee Chalamet (Or Olly, if you prefer,) and a ginger woman.

“Oh, hey, Malcolm, Ivy. How’s it hanging?”

“Like the Gardens of Babylon. Do you know where Lord Clarkham’s room is? I’m gonna go and try and stick his balls in his fucking trouser press.”

Ivy looked Olly up and down, then smirked sarcastically, “I see you’ve pulled.” She winked.

“Uh- look this is Julie Price. She is the people’s champion that Nicola is announcing in her speech.”

“Julie Price?” They both stopped in their tracks and turned, shaking hands gently with her.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Ivy cocked her head sympathetically. “It was a massive tragedy, bless you. Are you being looked after? Olly treating you well?”

“Oh- oh not bad, yeah.”

“You stick with Olly. He’s a good guy. I know he looks a bit like an anorexic Leo Sayer, there, but… Hey, could I have a picture taken with you?” He pulled out his phone, handing it to Ivy. “I’ve got a little collection of memories, you know. Mandela and stuff. Ivy, could you do the honors?”

“Mhm! Of course.” She stepped back. “Smile!” She said.

Julie flirtatiously hit Malcolm, calling him a stunner or something along those lines. Ivy took it as an opportunity to mischievously scowl at Olly. “You really are impressive. Hey, do you know who else is impressed by you? The PM.” He mentioned, grinning.

“He has a nice part in his speech where he’d be honored to introduce you and have you on. If, you’re up to that, that is.” She clasped her hands in front of her.

“B-But that might clash, a bit. Uh, you know because Nicola’s having her on.” Olly said, looking pathetic.

Julie excused herself to the restrooms. Olly clenched his fists, desperately trying to convince Malcolm otherwise. “Y-You can’t do that!”

“You gonna stamp your foot and slam the door to your bedroom next, little Timmy?” Ivy mocked.

“Boo-hoo, Olly. Can do, have done.”

“You want us to think of a whole entire new speech in 2 hours? 2 hours?”

“We don’t want you to do anything, but if you’d like to keep your reputation and probably your jobs, you will.”

“But that’s not fair!” He made a concerned face.

“Suck it up, fuckface. If she goes on with Nicola, she’ll be watched by 15 house-bound mouthbreathers. And the swelling ranks of the unemployed, who hate us, by the way. If she goes on with Tom, it’ll make 10:00 o’ clock news.”

“It’s for the greater good.”

“Yes, the greater good, thank you, Ivy.”

“Julie, hello. Feeling better?” Ivy smiled gently, yet falsely. “So, what’ll it be, Julie? Would you like to stick with Olly here, or do you want to run with Tom, or sorry-” She laughed, as if to seem sweet. “The PM, for your speech?”

“Uh.. I’m going with the big boys.”

“Great! Good, yes, the big boys.” Malcolm said.

“Oh, sorry Olly. It was lovely meeting you.”

“Right this way, we’ll introduce you to the PM.” They walked off, leaving Olly a pathetic begging loser. They walked down the hall, standing either side of Julie like bodyguards for organized crime. Malcolm began making light conversation.

“Are you in the hotel?”

“Oh yes.”

“Oh, lovely.”

“Well,” she chuckled, “I wouldn’t call it lovely.”

They laughed along. “Oh, John!” Ivy called the bearded bloke from earlier over, who looked like he was in a rush. But he was always that way, she guessed.

“This is John, the press organizer.”

“Yes, we’ve met before.”

“Oh, have you, lovely! Are you a texter?” At some point, Julie began fiddling with her phone, and appeared to be texting someone. Malcolm shot a look to Ivy, then glanced briefly at John. She nodded.

“I’ll be with you in a minute.”

“Excuse us for just a tick.” Ivy pinched the sleeve of John’s suit jacket, dragging him down the hall a bit. “Look, okay. I need you to just casually mention to Alan Dunn and…  I guess Lindsay Anorexi at The Mail, that the PM has commandeered Julie Price for his speech. Okay?”

She turned, but was cut off. “B-But that’s not strictly true, is it?”

“Yeah, and strictly come dancing isn’t strictly dancing, there’s also a bit at the beginning where an old man dribbles. So what?” She got in his face. She was going for intimidation, but it was clear John was uncomfortably turned on. So she guessed she’d settle for dominatrix.

“I-I don’t know what that means, but-”

 Just then, Glenn came hobbling down the hall like a washed-old Bradley Walsh look-alike in a Sainsbury’s cracker aisle. Ivy didn’t notice, but Malcolm sure did.

Glenn brushed past Ivy. “Oh, Glenn, I can see you’re a tad peeved.” He got in Malcolm’s face.

“I’m not having it, you’ve gone too far!”

“Get a grip, Glenn. I didn’t fucking cum in your fucking mouth.”

John began laughing, which caused Glenn to turn attention to both Ivy and him. “Are you in on this?”

“Nope, just following orders. Like a nazi guard.” He did the anti-semetic salute. “You’re not Jewish, are you?”

“...No?”

“Oh, good.”

“Ivy, can you take her?” She nodded. “Julie, if you could just step in there for a moment and have a chat with some lovely people. Have some tea and biscuits. We’ve got to deal with a um… internal issue. You do understand, don’t you? Good, go on.” She didn’t wait for a response, she just shoved her gently into the room.

“You,” Malcolm pointed at John, “fucking Henry the 8th’s lobotomized cousin, piss off and back to your sad job.”

John, did not in fact, piss off. The dank cream colored hallway slowly grew more lively with increasingly angry chatter paired nicely with erupting laughter from important people in important rooms. Like a fucking wine and cheese pairing. Malcolm and Glenn were bickering about Julie, which had an intermission with one of Malcolm’s famous quips, “Oh, shit, wow here’s the beige fucking power ranger now!”

Glenn continued, pushing harder each time. “We’re taking her back!”

Olly, John, and  Ivy began trying to diffuse the situation. She swore to herself this was the last time they were going to agree on anything. 

“Can we get a bit more sane about this?”

“Malcolm, calm down, please. Glenn, just fuck off and help glummy mummy write her new speech. Let it go!”

“Let’s not argue here!”

Glenn continued insisting, getting redder and redder with rage. Malcolm grew more and more annoyed. Ivy’s eyes widened, knowing this was going to get ugly quickly (well, actually, the ugliness had already peaked when both Olly and Glenn showed up at the same time.)

Then suddenly, it fucking happened. Ivy shut her eyes, cringing. John covered his mouth. Glenn went down, landing over Olly.

“Malcolm!” Ivy half-shouted, putting herself between Glenn and him in case it continued, her hands on his chest. He seemed to be over it, shaking out his fist in pain. 

“You hit me!” He whimpered out, kneeling on the floor.

“No! I did not hit you! You hurt yourself!” Malcolm lied, artfully. She lowered her arms, knowing the worst was over for now. “Respectfully, what the fuck sir!” She hurriedly whispered.

Glenn whined that he thought his nose was broken. “Noses can’t break, it's a myth.”

“What the fuck are you on about?”

Ivy went to go help, “lean forward, c’mon, mate. I used to be a barmaid, don’t worry, this isn’t the first suckerpunch to the nose I’ve dealt with. Does anyone have a towel? Good, good, yeah. Here you go.” She let him dab the wounded area. She sucked through her teeth, “It doesn’t look good.”

Malcolm told Olly to get him back to this room. Julie was dealt with by John, not very well, but still fine enough. “No one saw that?” He asked Ivy, who was the only other person who remained, and thankfully it was just her. Anyone else would likely have received another of the same if they happened to cross Malcolm. “No, no one. Fuck, Malcolm!”

He hurried off in the direction of their room. He opened the door, letting her in before slamming it back again. “Jesus fucking tapdancing Christ, Malcolm, you broke a man’s nose!”

“Oh, he’s fine.”

“It is so not fucking fine!” She stood there, shocked, choking on words coming out of her mouth. He sat down in the chair that faced the door, looking at her stoically. “Do you know what fucking makes this worse? Hm? This didn’t fucking help anything. Glenn and Olly and Nicola are all still going to be seething with rage at us for taking their fucking star player!”

“So what?”

“So fucking what? You’re actually kidding me. You’re so fucking caught up in the moment, so fucking primal like a tiger looking for it’s next meal. You don’t even fucking think of the future.” Ivy’s voice began breaking, on the verge of tears. “Do you know what all that career hopping taught me? It taught me I was fucking wrong. I was fucking wrong so many, many times. I was so fucking wrong to waste money on schools that got me no more happiness, I was so wrong to waste my remaining teenage years bunging around the cinemas with my friends instead of being at my bedridden mother’s side. And right now, I’m thinking I’m wrong in getting involved with you.”

He slapped the arms of the chair, getting up so fast. “THEN FUCKING LEAVE, IVY! I NEVER ASKED FOR YOU! I NEVER ASKED TO BE AROUND YOU 8 HOURS OF MY FUCKING DAY!” He stood over her. She backed off quickly into the skinny entryway of the room, touching the wall almost. Her eyes widened, out of fear. Making eye contact with him, she let tears begin dripping down her face. She covered her mouth, muffling whimpers of things like “please don’t hit me.”

Malcolm bit his lip, backing up, and pressing his back against the other wise of the entryway. He could have sworn his eyes felt wet with salty droplets, which refused to fall. “I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“What?”

“I’m so fucking sorry, Ivy.”

She stayed quiet for another minute, wiping away her tears, and sniffling. Strangely, she began chuckling. “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to, you stupid old man.”

He furrowed his brow, confused. "I'm gonna go apologize to Glenn for you."

"You don't have to." He covered his mouth, looking down, ashamed.

"I know." She said as she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a one-sided hug that didn't last more than a few seconds. He blushed, looking down at her, frozen. "Right, I'll be back later."

  "Jesus, Ivy!" Nicola shouted when she entered the room almost silently.

She didn't react. "You alright, Glenn?"

"I don't want to speak to you Ivy, sorry. Nor Malcolm."

"I think you should leave."

Ivy ignored her, turning to the bathroom door. "I've come to apologize, Glenn. On behalf of myself and Malcolm."

"Oh, what, 'cause Malcolm couldn't do it himself? Had to get his winged monkey to go out here and do it? Fly my pretties, fly!" Olly tacked on to the conversation, helping nothing.

She shot a look at Olly, before turning around and putting her hand on the door frame. "I'm really sorry, mate. Sorry he did that in the heat of the moment, you know? And I'm sorry I didn't stop it, it was really quite stupid and shortsighted of me. We're under a lot of pressure, right now, you know. It's a fucking war zone. We're soldiers, you gotta expect there's just a bit of friendly fire."

"Yeah."

"Good. Good. I would uh, hug you but I don't want to get any blood on my blouse. Shake on it?" She stuck out her hand, and he took it. The half-dried red liquid between their hands squelched disgustingly. She cringed.

Malcolm entered the hotel room, "How's the patient?"

"I'm fine, Malcolm. Just sore." He called out from the bathroom. Ivy ran her hand under water and dried it off with one of the fancy paper towels. "I've already apologized, sir."

Malcolm nodded, clapping and turning to Nicola and Olly. "Alright, so you've lost Julie. You've got a cavity the size of a prisoner's arsehole in your speech. Got a back-up plan?"

"We'll figure it out, thank you."

"Why don't we help you, hm? I mean, it is the least we could do." Ivy piped up.

"Yes, yes, yes, roll some tits up the flagpole and see if anyone gets wood."

"Christ. Okay, well, all we've got is Mannion's second holiday."

Ivy sat down on the couch behind Nicola's chair. Malcolm joined her. The couch was tiny, as was everything else in the room, so they were pretty close quarters. They didn't mind, but Malcolm didn't stay for long. Again, he liked to pace, and pace he did, like a caged tiger. Glenn joined the group, sitting in the remaining single seat. "He works really hard at planning his holidays." Glenn said.

"Fucking A+ quality sarcasm there that you're lobbing at 'em. Boom."

"I feel like I'm in a therapy group being run by my own rapist."

Everyone's cell phones chimed, all in sync. "Oh, shit." One of them said. "It's got out!" Another added. Olly sarcastically said, "No, I thought it was room service cold-calling."

"Who the fuck leaked it? No one saw it, right?" Ivy looked at Malcolm. He was preoccupied checking around the internet. "Fuck! It's on Rob Holt's blog! Okay, we need to get your people's champion out of this hotel, before some tabloid minge-flannel starts soft-soaping her."

"So we've got her back again?" Nicola asked.

"Jesus, don't be so sensitive about this!" Malcolm yelled.

"My fucking responsibility! Fuck the speech!" Nicola yelled also, slamming the door to the bathroom.

"Women! Women, huh? Slamming the fucking door. Where did this idea come from? Wilma! Fuck off." He spat.

She called out to him, "I'm making a phone call."

"Make a phone call, phone a fucking friend." He collapsed next to Ivy again into the couch.

"Women," Ivy mocked in a nasty tone. "Okay, Fred Flintstone."

"Shut up." He smiled, looking at her softly. She giggled.

"God, get a room you two." Olly said, without looking up, continuing to type.

"We have a room, sod off and write your mummy's speech." She squinted at him, crossly

"Ivy, we should go back and get ready for the stupid banquet thing." He touched her shoulder, which caught her off guard. Normally she instigated physical contact. "Right you are, yeah."

  They joined some reporters to have wine and break bread in fancy dress. Malcolm dawned a bow tie, which Ivy made mental note of to make fun of later. Glenn had joined them, feeling a bit better, and no longer bleeding.

"Have a bit more, Glenn, go on." Malcolm poured him a bit more. "Watch your step, though, don't go tripping up again."

"Absolutely." They laughed along.

Angela, same reporter as earlier, piped up. "D-Day. What is it, Malcolm? I thought you were one of the boxers, not the emcee."

"No, I've just got to rear my ugly head, as you would have it, at a few receptions this evening. Including the Rod Hughes do for Tom. Believe me, I'd rather slip into something more comfortable. Like a coma." Again, they laughed along.

The same woman continued, "Malcolm, you've started beating up your own guys. That has to be a bad sign."

"Oh, he didn't hit Glenn," Ivy swiped with her hand, smiling, defending him. "No, I didn't. Why would I do that? And there's no proof that I did."

"Yeah, whatever you say, Malcolm," she chuckled.

"Watch," He threw a fake punch "he doesn't flinch."

"Malcolm wouldn't hurt a fly, and trust me, I'd know, because I've had to roll up Sunday's paper and whap a few in his office for him." Ivy said, grinning.

"We're pals, I mean," He went to go stand next to him, "Look at the size of this guy, I wouldn't hit him. Look, he's a fucking man-mountain!"

"Are you calling me fat?" Glenn jokingly attacked back.

"Heh, that's the banter."

They continued for a few more moments. The conversation was slowing, like a dying fireplace on Christmas eve. Malcolm gave Ivy a look, which said "we've got to get going," and they excused themselves. Once they rounded the corner into the halls once again, they saw John, the fucking idiot, from earlier. They stopped, and Malcolm shoved him into a room. Ivy was a bit concerned, considering that she didn't know who's room that was. She figured she might follow them, eavesdropping on their conversation. Maybe she'd pick up a few classic Tucker scare tactics.

She heard something about tweezers from the twat, something about bullocks, and then finally, she heard Malcolm answer his phone, announcing that Julie was the leak. Something about Twitter.

Malcolm opened the door quickly after that, which startled Ivy half to death. "Were you listening in?"

"Of course I was, I wasn't just going to sit outside the door waiting for you like some primary schooler waiting for her mummy, all arms crossed and lunch box in hand."

He raised an eyebrow, smiling slightly, "...So, anyway, Julie's the leaker."

"I know."

"Well how'd you know, I only found out a minute ago?!" They left the room, almost running into a maid on their way out. He looked at her. "Oh, listening in, right. Sorry, I forgot."

"You're as daft as a goat sometimes, you know, Malcolm?" She teased.

"Shush."

Malcolm and Ivy went to Glenn's room, where the 3 fuckheads of DoSAC were increasingly panicking, trying to finish Nicola's speech while she memorized it.

"Squeeze my cock and call me Nancy," Malcolm announced, pushing open the door to the room and inviting himself inside. "Were you born in a barn, Glenn? Keep the door and your arse cheeks tightly fucking closed, right?"

"That's a fucking tiny kettle. Did they use your dick as a ruler, because boy, it sure fucking looks like it." Ivy said.

"Where's glummy mummy?"

"She's having a pee." Glenn delivered.

Ivy suck out her hands, "Oh, Julie!" Julie was seated on the edge of the bed, twiddling her thumbs. "How are you?" She clasped them in front of herself.

She shrugged, "Could be worse."

Nicola came out of the bathroom, jumping at Malcolm's presence. "Fucking hell, Malcolm."

"Julie, darling, could we have a wee word with you?" He said.

"...Why, is something wrong?"

Malcolm squatted down next to her, awkwardly. "Do you know a man called Rob Holt?"

"I've never heard of him, why, what's all this about?"

"Well it's just that he's one of your uh, followers, on... Twitter?" Malcolm looked at Ivy. She nodded, echoing, "Twitter."

"And we think that some of your uh...?"

"Tweets."

"The tweets that you've been doing have actually been reported, out there."

"Well." She exhaled, "What're you accusing us of?"

"We're not accusing you of anything." Nicola said.

"You all look like you're accusing us of something! You fucking sound like you're accusing us of something!"

"No, no, no, no-"

"I've seen Spooks! You have treated me like a bag of shit all day!" Julie began, standing up. "I mean, I'm a very, very patient person, but I've had it up to here with yous lot! I should've known not to trust yous lot, when you fucked over them Metric Martyrs. All I was trying to do was right by my Jason, right? And if he was here now, he'd be fucking appalled by the way yous lot are carrying on. He always said you were a useless bunch of wankers."

Olly came in, holding a bag of crisps which crinkled obnoxiously. Although nothing could be more obnoxious than whatever was about to come out of his mouth. "Oh, Julie! Oh you're back! Excellent. Every epic needs a hero. Put tiny kettle on, lad, I'm gasping."

Malcolm was staring darkly at him, arms crossed. The awkward air was so thick you could cut it with a butter knife. "Uh, everything okay? What's-What's going on?"

"Uh- Malcolm, could you just come to the toilet with me, for a moment." She pushed him into the toilet. Ivy turned to look at it, making a confused face. She leaned towards the door once it shut, to try and hear some form on conversation. She only managed to pick up the gist of the plan.

Malcolm covertly told Glenn something. Ivy was too tired and too over it to figure out what. Julie left by herself in a ferocious hurry. As soon as the door slammed closed.

"Good riddance." Ivy mumbled.

"Do we have anything we can use against her?" Malcolm demanded.

Nicola rubbed her temple, crossing her arm over her chest. "Metric Martyr stuff. That's all I can think of."

"Fruit by the pound?" Ivy lifted herself off the wooden hutch, joining them near the bed. "That's it?"

"Fruit by the fucking pound. Fuck. Okay, well, we say we're dropping her for extremist views. How about that?"

The group shrugged, mutually agreeing that it was good enough for them. "Just don't go into detail, otherwise they'll crawl up your arse like a dirty little Syrian dwarf hamster all over again."

Ivy snickered at her own joke which was in her head. "How do you like them apples? By the pound?"

Olly and Nicola sighed heavily, one of them remarked, "Jesus."

  After quite a night of wine drinking, toasting, celebrating, or otherwise partying, Malcolm and Ivy said their goodbye's and goodnight's to friends and coworkers. They both looked like Hell. Well, it could be worse, but still Hell. Malcolm's bow tie was crooked and half undone (it was actually surprising to Ivy that he both knew how to tie one and had a real one, not just a pre-tied one). He had spilled droplets of dried cherry colored wine on his white button-up, which he had failed to notice in time, so it was likely that they'd leave irreparable stains. Ivy's makeup was smeared, a faint streak of eyeliner spread across her temple from a forgetful moment where she wiped the corner of her eye. Her dress was wrinkled, her hair messy. They were both half wine drunk. The clock read 12 am.

Despite looking like an embarrassing mess, Malcolm thought she was so incredibly gorgeous. He caught himself staring through the cracked door and into the mirror while she was washing her face and brushing out her curls. Good thing her eyes didn't catch his or he'd never hear the end of it. "Who's sleeping on the couch?" She asked, kneeling down beside her bag to pull out her pajamas.

"Huh?" He said, setting his tie in his overnight bag and removing his jacket.

"I said, who's sleeping on the couch?" She went back to the bathroom, this time closing the door so she could change.

He pulled his shirt out of his trousers and began unbuttoning it. Malcolm didn't listen to a word she said. All he knew is that she asked a question. So, he responded, "Sure."

"Were you even listening?" She laughed.

"No."

"Whatever. Are you decent?" Ivy had finished getting dressed. So had Malcolm, apparently, since he answered with a "Yes."

She stepped out of the bathroom, crouching down once again to put her clothes away. Malcolm felt his heart skip a beat. Oh God, he thought, she's even more stunning now. She was wearing a plain black spaghetti strap tank top and soft pajama shorts. She wasn't even trying to be attractive, she just plain was. Ivy had her arms crossed over her chest, staring at his face stoically.

"Right, I don't really feel like hunkering down on the couch tonight. So I'll sleep under the covers, you sleep on top."

"What?"

She sat on the side of the bed that had the flower painting. "Do you need hearing aids? We're both adults, get over it." She said, sliding into bed and rolling over. "Just don't snore."

"Fine." He pulled the spare blanket off of the top of the armchair, fluffing it out over the bed and laying under it. "Goodnight, Ivy."

"'Night, Malcolm."

[wheremytwinwatches]

[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 20

Last time Roy was a badass, Lust bit the dust, and Ed ran into a familiar face. Onwards!

Hey, they show Ed and Papa Elric in a graveyard during the intro! I’d just written that off as a symbolic thing or something. So does that mean we’re gonna have Ed going through the Gate again and the Xing contingent fighting Wrath? I will also take little May Chang zapping some werewolves, please and thank you. We open with Papa Elric and Ed staring at eachother (and a gravestone for a Michael Cusbert, random name or someone connected to the show?). [Papa Elric]: “Hello, Edward… You appear to have grown some.” 1-Will the short jokes never cease? 2-Really, dude? You haven’t seen your son since you ran off who knows how many years ago, and your first words are essentially “Huh, turns out kids grow up over time.” Ah, and he’s spoken with Granny Rockbell, knows that Ed tried Human Transmutation. Ed responds by asking why the heck he’s come back when there’s nothing left for him there. PE just asks why Ed burned down “his” home. So, am I supposed to have any sympathy for this guy? Like, at all? Disregarding my belief that Papa Elric and Father are the same person (seriously, beard), just in terms of being a dad I am finding him sorely lacking. Ed states that they burned it down as a symbol of their reso- [PE]: “No you didn’t. You were hiding the memory. You didn’t want to be reminded of what you’ve done… And thought you could erase the memory by destroying the evidence.” Step off, buddy. [PE]: “You ran away… And you know it.” WOW. Ok, you can just fuck right off, dude. You’re gonna stand on your dead wife’s grave and say that kind of shit to your son? I agree with Ed, you make me sick. [PE]: “He’s exactly like I was when I was his age.” Hahaha NO. You don’t get to compare yourself to the Protagonist, dude. Just… just go. Episode 20 - “Father Before the Grave” That night, Ed’s sleeping at the Rockbell’s when the door opens. So we’ll get Granny’s response to- YOU. Nope nope nope stop looking in on Ed just go away and Flashback to Kid!Ed clutching at PE’s leg with a smile and Baby!Al gazing up. Oh, so NOW you feel remorse for running out on your family. Whoop de friggin doo. PE reaches out to touch the son he ABANDONED before chickening out and leaving. And whadya know, Ed who has been through numerous deathly struggles over the past years was awake the entire time. Downstairs, good dog! The Rockbell’s automailed hound is sitting in a corner and growling at PE as he gives a wry grin, before turning back to Granny and numerous wine bottles. Seems she’s going over photo albums, remarking on how PE looks like he hasn’t aged a day (hmmmmm) and asking why he was gone for so long. PE… asks about the results of the HT the boys attempted. Dude. You know that Ed’s listening in, and you’re gonna make him think that the event that destroyed their lives was even more of a failure? The worst part is that we know he’s right, since Al’s flashback to the Gate ended with him looking at Ed from inside the TC. Still, dude. Dick move. Ok, let’s go away from this awfulness for a bit. Back in Central, Al’s holding up his end of the bargain and telling Ling about his Soul Armor status, who is very impressed. No need to eat or sleep or breathe, as long as his sigil’s kept intact he’s functionally immortal! Except for what Barry mentioned last time, about how a body can’t maintain a foreign soul, and Al thinks that he’s a ticking time bomb. Well ok, hold up. That’s based on an offhand comment by a homicidal maniac, regarding a corpse that had an animal’s soul stuffed in it. I don’t think that’s really comparable to you, Al. At the very least, why don’t we get a more scientific look into the subject than a murderer? And Ling does bring up a good point, if the body can only hold a soul for so long, why not transfer it to a new body periodically? Problem solved, right? Still, as much as I like the transhuman immortality robot idea, I don’t think the guy we’ve seen bumming for free food is really comprehending the isolation of the form, which Winry calls him out on before storming away. Winry’s moping on her bed when Al comes in, and tries lightening the mood by complaining that Ed and Winry are always the ones to lose their tempers, he never gets a chance. Then we get a flashback to Al's first night in his Soul Armor, realising that he can’t (not doesn’t have to, can’t) fall asleep and mentioning that to a younger Winry. Current!Winry cries into a pillow and demands a promise that Al will get his body back. On his own end, looks like Ed’s dreaming, running towards a distant light and demanding that they give Al his body back. Suddenly Truth! [Truth]: “Take it? Do you even know what you’re saying? You’re the one who tossed his body aside and put him in that armor… Aren’t you, alchemist?” And then That Bastard Tucker shows up saying that he and Ed are the saNOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE. And then it gets WORSE when a hand reaches out and Ok good Ed’s awake now. Suddenly I’m seeing advantages to Al not having to dream. Meanwhile, Granny’s yelling that Ed needs to wake up, his father’s about to head out. Wait, head out? Where’s PE off to now? Oh hey, it’s the photo wall with PE’s face blocked off. Which PE asks for and takes as it’s the only picture of the entire family. Then he’s already heading to the door (not surprised he’s not even waiting for Ed), but pauses to tell Granny something. [PE]: “Something terrible is going to happen in this country soon… You should escape while you can.” [Granny]: “*shrug* This country’s lousy with terrible things. And I can’t leave. I’ve got other people who need me here in case they want to come home.” [Heartless!PE Who Completely Ignores The Wall Of Cute Kid Pictures]: “I’ve given you my warning.” And like that, Hohenheim is gone, with a comment that he won’t be able to enjoy her cooking anymore… ok, that is either implying that Granny is going to die (NOPE) or Hohenheim is (?). Ed just looks out the window as his father leaves yet again. Now weather’s rolling in as Ed and Granny are walking up a hill, Ed has a shovel… oh no. No no no please tell me you aren’t going to dig it up. This knowledge will not help you, Ed. The rain starts falling and Ed is vomiting from exertion and stress, refuses to go home (as opposed to this pile of burnt rubble) as he won’t be able to move forward until he knows for sure. And because he refuses to let Hohenheim be right about his running away. Please. Please, just stop Ed. You’re constantly heaving, and as tough as Granny is it can’t be good for her either to be out in this rain. Let it go, please. But they keep digging through the rain, and as it finally slows Ed stops digging. Grabs a tuft of hair. Rushes to the bucket to wash it off. And turns to Granny with a stricken face, saying that Mama Elric had chestnut hair. But this hair is blond- wait, black? ...wait, what? It’s not blonde? I mean, maybe it’s burnt black. But I thought it was… They dig up the rest of the remains, Granny declares a femur too long and the pelvis for a male… ok, hold up. You’re basing this off of bone lengths and hair color? Ed, did you not see how deformed and broken that Thing was? That was not an example of a functioning human body, so why would you base this off of damaged parts? Aaargh, but as Granny declares that all the parts from the HT aren’t his mother, Ed laughs brokenly before declaring that it really is impossible to bring the dead back to life. But as Granny tells him to get ahold of himself, Ed says that it’s alright? That this has been a symbol of despair for so long… ok, how is this a symbol of hope, then? [Ed]: “Al can be returned to normal.” …? Um, I am not seeing the logic connection here. The HT remains are reburied, and Ed gives a call to Teacher. Oh dear. That subject. I’m sorry Ed, but that is really something you should not talk about over the phone. Back to the graveyard, Ed and Granny are looking over the Rockbell gravestones as she thanks Ed for telling her about how they helped people. Then they head out, Ed asking if Hohenheim said where he was going and Granny saying she didn’t even bother asking. But then she says she forgot something? A message for Hohenheim from Mama Elric? [Mama Elric]: “I’ll be gone when he returns… Can you tell him something? I need him to know… I couldn’t keep my promise. I died before he did, and I’m so sorry.” A promise to not die before him? Whatever the details, Granny doesn’t know, and asks Ed to pass it on if he runs into Hohenheim again. Ed grumps at being a messenger boy, but agrees. Now, back to Central! Where Ed’s sure that Al is just waiting, annoyed at being cut out of the loop… [Ed]: *eyetwitch* “What the hell?!” Al, rather worse for wear, apologizes to Ed for being so damaged, who then starts freaking out over Xing and the Lady Ninja mooching off room service before he kicks them out. Now, story time! After Ed’s brought up to speed on the Goths and Barry and the speculation that Al’s armor is gonna reject his soul (again, solely based on something Barry said), Al’s patched up. Winry is of course worried and asks if Al can get his old body back, Ed insists he can. Now, Ed’s turn to tell a story. Al is of course shocked at Ed saying he dug up the Resembool body, and more so at the claim that it wasn’t their mother. But this convinces Ed that they can return Al to normal? Explanation, please! But Ed insists before that he needs to know… if Winry remembers them fighting as kids about who’d marry her. Pfft! Winry confirms that she turned them both down ([Ed]: “W-whatever.”), so Ed asks for the reasoning. [Al/Winry]: “I just don’t like men who are shorter than me.” Aw, chin up Ed! It’s the only way you can try to be taller than her! Oh! OH! Confirmation that it really is Al, not just a copy from Ed’s memories! Al remembered something that Ed didn’t know! Thank Leto, this show may be playing fast and loose with dental records and hair remains, but this is sound reasoning! And if we have proof positive that Ed could pull Al’s soul out, then Ed believes that Al’s body is still in the Gate and he can pull it out. Like Barry’s body, separate from… ok, now you’re losing me again. As I understand Armor!Barry was made when his body was killed for murder, not lost in the Gate of Truth. That body did exist separate from the soul, but it wasn’t lost in another dimension or whatever, just stuck in the ground here. Ed asks Al to think back to the Gate, what he saw, and Al says that he grabbed his own hand (that creepy grinning version of Al from the flashback). So Ed’s determined to confront Truth again, and pull Ed’s body out!... but then there’s that last part of the memory. Al looking at Ed from inside the Thing. But while that Thing was Al, his soul didn’t bind. Huh. So good news is that they didn’t harm anyone else’s soul that time. Bad news is that this supports the “foreign body rejects soul” idea. Ergh. Oh, Teacher’s calling back. She and Sig did some research, and confirmed that the Thing that they summoned didn’t share any traits with them. So that’s it, then. Death is permanent. But at least they have closure. And the Elric Brothers have closure too, knowing that their attempt wasn’t a second death for Mama Elric, both of them blaming themselves. But with that closure behind them, they still have their mission: Get Al his body back. We get Al demanding that he share the burden with Ed, saying that he’s gotten by through being treated like a normal person from his friends… and crying that he can’t take the lonely nights anymore. But that’s going to change. The Elric Brothers have a target, and they’re gonna tear right through the Gate and punch Truth until they get that body back! And the Brothers are back at it, that eagerness that they had when first searching for the Philosopher’s Stone. Even Winry is taken back at how broad Ed’s shoulders are in his confidence. Brace yourself, Truth. The Elric Brothers are gunning for you.