#and roy seemed like he really fucking needed it out of his system

[hesherehesthere]

i've been thinking a lot about roy being on richmond while rupert was owner and cartrick was manager. i'm sure it was hell for everyone, but roy seemed genuinely glad to see rebecca pretty early on (greeting her in the hallways when most people ignored her), and he verbally expressed his distaste for cartrick as a manager on live tv. he's also immediately Alert when ted is hired and is clearly trying to figure out how he's going to handle certain situations. he has a clear shift towards respecting ted more after he benches jamie. it seems like in some ways he was expecting a repeat of cartrick (playing jamie even tho he was a dick, just because he was good). idk what this means, if anything, i've just been thinking about it

[cassiaa]

Fortis 1.4

Warnings apply & New warning -> Alic Tauri (I feel he needs to be a warning tbh)

Disclaimers: Bria still doesn't have a pairing. I only only the OC's, Rebecca Yarros owns everything else.

Word count: 2451

Part Three Part Four Next Part

🔥🔥🔥

“You look like shit.” Brandon did not know what personal space was. Either that, or he knew it and he toed the line on purpose to fuck with people. Each of my squad stood on one side of the sparring mat, watching as Rois engaged a cadet from First Wing. Our squad was split between two mats right now, the one we were at, and the other three mats down.

“Brandon.” Kayleigh scolds softly, standing on the other side of Brandon.

“What happened before lunch?” Brandon pushes for answers, his arms crossing, and forcing me to step to the side or be bumped. “You came in all pale. And with Aiofe at your side, glaring daggers at anyone who stepped even ten feet close to you. Did some asshole try something already?”

“You’re really nosey.” I side eye him, turning back to the mat. Rois and the cadet were evenly matched though, neither could seem to get the upper hand.

“My mothers a scribe. She taught me to ask questions.” Brandon shrugs. He didn’t even look skeptical or anything else suspicious. Just curious. He had an air of Genuity that others didn’t. Dangerous. My father’s voice was critical in my head sometimes. Seems it was scribe vs scribe here.

“And your father?” I deflected. It was a cheap shot, but I didn’t want to talk about the attack. It was such a brief encounter anyways. Nothing truly happened.

“Dead.” Brandon nods, “but infantry before that. Why are you avoiding my questions?”

My eyes roll as annoyance floods my system. “Because you’re aggravating.”

He grins. “I’m just curious –”

“You’re just annoying.” I rebuttal.

“We’re a squad.” Brandon shakes his head, and we both watch as Rois gets knocked on his ass. “If someone is out to get you, we deserve to know.”

“I’m a Sorrengail. Most of this place is out to get me. If you’re worried, don’t stand so close.”

“You’re misunderstanding me.” Brandon looks down at me, ignoring the professor calling his name to the mat. “If someone has it out for you, we need to know so we can help. Squad unity and all that shit.” Brandon gave a charming smile before moving to join his Second Wing opponent.

Other than all the background noise we had a moment of silence.

“He has good intentions.” Kayleigh whispers from beside me. “And he’s trying here. It’s all he knows. His father taught him to be a good man before he taught him how to fight… he died a few years ago. It’s just been him, his mom and his little brother. But he has good intentions.” Her fingers wring together as she speaks.

“You said that already.” A single brow raises and Kayleigh blushes scarlet, nervously pushing her glasses up the bridge of her slender nose. “How long have you two been together?” I ask. If Brandon could, so could I.

“Three years. Our mothers were always close, and we grew up together.”

 I watched her fidgeting again from the corner of my eye for a moment. Half focused on the match and half thinking about her and Brandon and what their lives must’ve been like before this. Friends to lovers at its finest I supposed. Part of me saw my younger sister and her childhood best friend being like this. Though my sister was more outgoing and less ‘blushy over everything and nothing’.

My body locked up as someone enters my peripheral from the right, sandy brown hair, green eyes, cocky smirk that always meant trouble.

“Hey gorgeous.” Alic’s hand found the nape of my neck and tangles in the hair there, gripping it in a way that made my jaw clench.

Kayleigh gasps loudly from beside me.

“Let go Alic.” I seethe, rage and panic burn through me and all the annoyances caused by Brandon were burned away.

Alic chuckles, pulling my back flush to his chest. He leaned down, pressing his face to my hair and inhaling deeply. “You’ve been avoiding me… why?”

Don’t panic. Don’t cry.

Don’t panic. Don’t cry.

Don’t panic. Don’t cry.

Alic’s grip tightens. “Answer me Bria.” He commands me. But to everyone else he was simply embracing an old friend, his diplomatic smile still bright and easy-going. He could fool anyone.

“Get off.” My voice was nothing more than a hoarse whisper as my throat threatened to close for the second time in one day as panic over same me. Like a predator getting a whiff of prey, Alic knew he had won.

“Come on,” he laughs, “don’t be like that. Maybe we could sneak out for old times’ sake. Just you and me… I know a few places.”

You would asshole… Shock struck me to my core when he leaned further, I wrenched my head back, as far as the grip he had on my hair would allow. He was really trying to kiss me in the middle of the sparring room. In front of everyone.

“Back the fuck off Tauri!”

Something slammed into us, more so him than me, but I still stumbled until a hand grips my elbow and yanks me up and away. I stumble under the force of the shove. Kayleigh wraps her arm around me, saving me from hitting my knees. I turned to see something I couldn’t believe.

Garrick Tavis stood between us and Alic. We had an audience too. The nearest mats had all come to a halt, the people standing around them craning their necks to see the commotion.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” Alic rears back, standing tall and breathing heavy. Alic’s green eyes assessed the situation.

“Would you boys like to take it to the mat?” Professor Emmeterio drawls, voice languid and vexed at the same time. It was a carefully veiled threat. Professor Emmeterio wasn't one to be played with. He set his clipboard in his lap. He had had a perfect view from across the mat, sitting on a stool with one leg crossed over the other. He gave a solid thirty seconds before nodding. “Well then, Cadet Tauri you may return to your squad.”

Alic gave the professor a professional and courteous nod, and “of course Professor.” Before turning to give Tavis a look filled with loathing and disgust. “Marked bastard.” He shoulder-checks Tavis as he passes him. His eyes narrowed on me, "I'll see you later."

A surge of disgust swirled in me, I was going to throw up... I took slow deep breaths, trying to avoid eye contact with everyone as the room disengaged and resumed their activities. Professor Emmeterio watched me from across the mat, calculating, before calling the match.

Brandon joined us where we stood, it was then that I noticed he had knocked out his opponent and won his match. He gave me a look that I couldn’t decipher. It probably meant ‘see? This is something we should know about.’ But I didn’t say anything to him, or to Kayleigh who still had an arm around me, or to Garrick Tavis who took a stand a few feet from us, feet planted firmly, and arms crossed in a pose that seemed to scream ‘don’t mess with me’. I nudged Kayleigh to let me go, but didn’t move from my spot. I didn't need to draw any more attention to myself today.

The rest of our squad made it through assessments, the only one to go to the infirmary was Rois, his opponent had broken his nose while gaining his victory and Finn had taken him immediately to get it fixed. Professor Emmeterio was wrapping up his notes and gathering his belongings as he spoke with the senior wingleader.

Wait a damn minute. My brows drew in. “Professor?”

Professor Emmeterio pauses as they turn to walk away, “yes Cadet?”

“I never went?” My squad looks between me and our professor, also just realizing that I was never called to a mat.

Professor Emmeterio nods, shuffling his folders around to hold one up. One that distinctly had my name labeled on it. “No need. I have your assessment right here.” He turned and left.

🔥🔥🔥

“That’s such bullshit. Sorrengail is getting special privileges.” Rois hadn’t shut up about it since he had returned from the infirmary and his little buddies filled him in on what happened while he was gone. And that was days ago. He whines about it at dinner. He whined about after dinner before everyone. He whined at breakfast the next morning. And then the first class of the day and all through gym before thankfully in our next class, him and his friends didn’t sit with us. On the downside… he sat further down the row from Alic Tauri. And those were his parting words before he went to sit elsewhere.

“That guy is such a prick.” Brandon blows out a deep breath, letting his head all the way back.

We sat in Battle Brief, near the back, within the last five rows to those standing. I sat on the edge this time, Eithne by me, then Kayleigh, then Brandon, then Tavis. On Tavis’s other side was what I assumed were his personal friends… Including Xaden Riorson. He wasn’t glaring at me today. Hadn’t looked at me as our group had shuffled in and sat down. Just quietly conversed with Tavis. I didn’t know if the others in his row were his squad or friends, but they weren’t marked ones. Class hadn’t started yet; we were waiting for Professor Devera. Professor Markham was at the front, quietly discussing with two scribes. I set out my supplies and lined the top of my paper with what was displayed at the front, but as time went on I began doodling on the paper, filling it with black lines and little figures.

“Which one?” Eithne’s tone was a mix of fear and… disgust maybe? He was referring to Alic and Rois in question.

“Both.” Tavis crosses his arms on the table, smiling wide and proudly displaying a dimple.

“Both.” Brandon nod’s, the grin he returned was all trouble. “I’d kick both their asses, given the chance.”

“What?” Eithne’s neck snaps around, expression all shock as his quill falls from his hands.

“Hell yeah.” Tavis nods, his eyes glazed as if he was imagining it. “Who wouldn’t take that chance?”

“A fool.” Kayleigh mumbles, sighing deep through her nose. “I need to train more in case I’m presented with the opportunity.”

Tavis and Brandon both nod, Eithne looks between them, slinking down in his seat. “Sounds treasonous.” He drags his hands down his face.

“Only if done incorrectly.”

The whole rows head snap to look at me, but I don’t look up. Just continue my doodlings.

“Elaborate Sorrengail.” Brandon all but orders.

I shrug my shoulders in a slow roll, putting my elbow on the desk and cradled my jaw in my palm. “If you killed them when they were in bed. Or just blindly attack while in formation. Or in the presence of a superior officer.” I scribble out a little figure who had just gotten into a fight on my paper. “But in a challenge? Fair game. Threshing? Fair game. Even Presentation, anything could happen. Though we will be going out squad by squad and killing a squad mate is forbidden. So have a really good reason if you throw him to the dragons.”

They all just stared for a moment, leaning back in their seats as Professor Devera finally came in and took to the front. My squad mates were absolutely considering murdering someone on our squad and also the third in line for the throne. Alic wasn't the crown prince, just the spare. But the murder spree his father would go on... wouldn't want my name connected to that.

“Also prepare to be scorched.” I add, pulling out new paper, “the dragons might see that as a threat, or that you have no loyalty. They may not like that.”

Brandon lets a low whistle, finally pulling out his own supplies. “Well damn Sorrengail. You’ve given me plenty of food for thought.” He grins troublesome again, “I may even manage to stay awake in class today.”

“Stop sneaking out every night and maybe get some sleep.” Tavis teases, stretching his arms over his head before locking his fingers together behind his head and tipping his chair backwards. It gave a clear view of Riorson on the other side of him, but I wasn’t about to get caught staring.

Kayleigh blushes tomato red, using her hair as a curtain from the guys on her other side.

I hadn’t even noticed she wasn’t in the bunk. Her bunk was right over mine, so I should’ve. I wasn’t sleeping again. My dreams were haunted by everything I wanted to forget. By the time morning rolled around, I was up and racing to duty. I had never gone and signed up for one, so I was assigned to where they had a need. Which was library duty. I liked it though. The peace and quiet in the mornings. I normally stopped and stole an apple or something on my way to the Scribes Quadrant. So far, I haven’t had to talk to anyone I knew down there. Which was nice. A small quiet part of me had been hoping to run into my father or even younger sister. But I was sure my mother had already accounted for that and made sure our times would never line up together.

I sigh deepily, leaning heavily on my arm still propped on the desk. This earned a look or two, but I didn’t acknowledge them. I just wanted to sink into oblivion.

🔥🔥🔥

Later that night, when the nightmares got too bad, and I was being chased in the dark by a figure with familiar eyes, I got out of bed. I dressed and hauled ass right out of the barracks. I wandered the halls aimlessly. Not really searching for anything. I learned the guard post. Which professor or those in Leadership stayed up late working. I saw a few other cadets, all three years, out and about, slinking through the shadows as they met up with their partners. I ended up in the tunnel leading to parapet. There was no guard posted there. Nobody kept watch there, because no one was dumb enough to cross it twice.

I sat in the tunnel on the parapet, almost to the opening. I walked as far as I could without leaving. The air was warm, still in full swing summer. The breeze wouldn’t cool for a few more weeks, and colder temperatures weren’t expected here until at least November if not December. It was a surprisingly nice place to rest, the light breeze offered a peaceful background noise, it paired nicely with the rushing water off in the distance. And eventually as morning started to come, the early birds started chirping and I knew it was time to get ready for duty.

[daydreamgoddess14]

Support System pt. 10 - The Finale!

CH1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 | CH 5 | CH 6 | CH 7 | CH 8 | CH 9

MASTERLIST

It's the end doo doo doo doo! The final match of the season, the ending. I really hope you've enjoyed reading this as much as I have writing it. I've had the best time and I'm really proud of this one! 💜

Chapter 10

You hadn’t considered that footballers or their coaches would get nervous. But the tension in the run up to the Man City game was palpable. The whole town seemed on edge, Roy included. He’d spent each one of your Lexie nights at your house, it felt a little odd that he was there observing your boring mum routine of washing, cooking and carrying the mental load of knowing where Lexie needed to be, when and everything else in between. He didn’t ask to stay, even though you’d wanted him to, he’d said goodnight each evening and gone back to his place. By the time Lexie was back to her dads, you’d worked out that he’d been there every evening not just because he’d wanted to be, but because he’d needed to be. The build up to the game had him restless and distractible and the time with you and Lexie managed to relax him far more than sitting in an empty house, or going over and over the match with Jamie, or Nate or whoever else was free for a pint. When you’d gone to him just a day before the match, the only solace he’d found from the plays, the tactics and the team, was in you. He took his time, undressing you slowly and kissing every inch of skin as it became exposed to him.

"Let me take care of you," you whispered. You felt his head shake as he kissed down your neck. 

"I've never needed anyone like I need you." He muttered, swiping a calloused thumb over your hardening nipple, "you look so fucking beautiful like this." You rolled your hips against him, 

"Please, Roy. I need you-" you all but begged. All night he'd taken the lead and given you everything, losing himself in the feel of your body against his. When they won the next day, you were euphoric. Lexie and Phoebe had been in bits when the camera had focused in on Roy and Nate discussing something over an iPad and they could see that Roy was wearing his Richmond colours friendship bracelet. The late journey back from Manchester and the subsequent celebrations meant that it was Tuesday morning before you saw him again. You’d joined the slip road to the school, queuing for the carpark with the windows down and blasting 90s dance music when his car had pulled alongside yours. You and Lexie had been so engrossed in singing/shouting Robin S ‘Show Me Love’ - complete with 'big box, little box' hand dancing - that you hadn’t even seen him until Phoebe had called through the open windows. 

“Morning. Congratulations on the win!” You’d called out.

“Morning. Nice dancing.”

“Especially for you.” You winked. You’d ended up parked at different ends of the carpark so he and Phoebe had waited for you by the gate as you walked down to them. You’d pulled out your phone to take a call from a recruitment agency so he’d walked alongside you while you talked and the girls ran ahead. “And that’s in Richmond? Wow, ok that sounds really interesting. Absolutely yes, send my CV over if you think I’m in with a shot. Actually, just send it over anyway - I’d be mad not to at least try,” at the front of the queue at the gates, you handed Lexie her bag and gave her a kiss whilst still on the phone, “Ok, could you just hang on one second please?” You moved the phone away from your mouth and stepped up on tiptoes to give Roy a lingering kiss. The other playground parents looked on, wide eyed. “I have to go, I love you. See you later.” You whispered, taking up the phone again and going back to the car, your hand holding onto his until you couldn’t reach any further. Lexie was with her dad during the beginning of that week so that she could go with you to the final Richmond match at the weekend, so after work you’d gone straight to Roy’s. You hopped up to sit on the counter while he cooked.

“Ted’s staying.” He told you, hands on your thighs.

“Really? That’s great!”

“He got to work this morning and Rebecca was in his office. She only fucking told him she was in love with him, that she’d help his ex get a job here if she wanted to move, she’d help them find a school for Henry… pretty much told him she’d do fucking anything if he’d say.” You leaned forward, eager to hear more,

“And did he tell her?”

“Yeah, told her he was in love with her. We walked in to find them nearly going at it in the office.” You shrieked,

“Oh god that’s so cute! At least you all know before the weekend as well.”

“Settles the lads down a bit, bunch of fucking kids sometimes.” You slid forward to wrap your legs around his hips. “Any news on that job from this morning?” His hands move up your thighs and around your waist so he can kiss your neck,

“Not yet, the agency is putting me forward. It’s in Richmond though, which would be amazing. I should hear more tomorrow.”

“And how you feeling going into your last week?”

“Happy. Scared. Nervous.”

“We’ll figure it out, you know. I won’t let you fucking drown. Season finishes at the weekend, so this time next week I’ll have loads more free time for a few weeks. I can help with Lex while you do what you need to do.” He’s turned the pan off and pulled you off the counter, taking you over to the sofa, dinner forgotten for now.

~~~~~~~

You took a further call from the recruitment agency the following day. Their client was interested in meeting you but needed an informal off-site meeting. You arranged with the recruiter to meet with them towards the end of the week just outside of town. To say you were surprised to see Keeley Jones and Rebecca Welton being led to your table was an understatement. You shook hands and sat back down before your legs could give out. The mums might have been all good, the kids, but maybe you were about to be ousted by two of the most influential women in Roy’s life? You clearly looked terrified because Keeley, to her credit, took your hand and held it,

“Oh fuck, you look so scared! I’m so sorry we ambushed you, are you ok?” You think of the night before when Roy had cooked your favourite meal while you’d taken Lexie to swimming lessons and then onto her dads. When you’d sat in his lap and pushed your fingers into the knot in his shoulder to try and relieve some of the stress of the final week of the season. When he’d lost all patience and decided on a different way to unwind, which had mostly revolved around keeping his head between your thighs for as long as you let him. You think about your 4am wake up call that morning, and the 6am follow up, where he’d interlocked your fingers above your head and pressed you into the mattress as he whispered “I could do this forever”. Whatever had changed their mind in the time since the gala, you couldn’t let it derail your future.

“Look, if you’ve suddenly come to the realisation that I’m not good enough for Roy then that’s your opinion and you’re entitled to it. But I’m not going to be scared off. He loves me and I’ll take that for as long as I possibly can because I am so, so in love with him and I will spend forever making him happy in any way I can. I’m really sorry, I’m sure you’re both lovely women and I know he values your opinions, but if he’s ever going to change how he feels about me then he’ll do it himself and he’ll tell me himself. And congratulations by the way,” you turn to Rebecca, “I heard that Ted is staying and that he finally told you he loves you. I’m so happy for you.” Keeley smiled at you while Rebecca looked curiously. 

“Are you sure about this?” She asked Keeley,

“I’ve been doing some digging. Trust me, Rebecca.”

“We’re not here to try and break you and Roy up.” Rebecca said finally,

“Oh. Well then I don’t understand?”

“I’d like to interview you for a job.”

“Sorry, what? Shit, have I just fucked it up completely?”

“Nahh!” Keeley said quickly.

“Well-” Rebecca interrupted.

“No, she hasn’t. We probably scared her half to death, Rebecca! Give the poor woman a minute to recover.” You finish your water and take a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, really I am. I got completely carried away and I shouldn't have gone off like that.”

“Thank you,” Rebecca said, smiling at last. “And thank you for letting me know just how much you care about Roy.” You nod, making peace. Keeley whipped out some paperwork from her bag.

“So! Like Rebecca said, this is I guess, a final stage interview without all the previous stages? We already know about you, we'd love to know more. Our previous Director of Comms was Leslie Higgins, he moved into the Football Ops role quite a while ago now and there’s never really been the need to replace him. He and Rebecca have sort of taken on the various tasks and it’s worked fine.” She pauses for Rebecca to step in and continue,

“Now though, we’re one game away from maybe winning the Premier League just one season after coming back from relegation. That’s practically unheard of. The huge, growing success of the club, the opportunities with the Champions League next season and our plans for the future mean that we need to strengthen the internal team. KBPR can only do so much - they have other clients and I can’t ask Keeley to devote all of her time to the club.”

“We think,” Keeley started, “that with us, and Leslie and you… we could be a real Fab Four. The core AFC Richmond decision makers - with the coaches input of course.” You are stunned, to say the least.

“When you say you’ve done some digging, what exactly do you mean by that?”

“Well, when you told me who you worked for and what you’d worked on, I realised that we’d met before. I’ve been asking around people who have worked with you or who have come across you in a professional capacity to learn more. When I liked what I saw, I took it to Rebecca.”

“With Ted confirmed as staying now, I have some big plans ahead for Roy. We have some very big plans ahead as a club.”

“And you don’t think it would be weird? Me working with you, for one,” you gesture to Keeley, “or with Roy?”

“I’ve been at the club probably at least two or three times a week since the day you blocked him in on the school car park. He came in ranting and raving about some idiot driver and every day, I’ve heard him fall more in love with you. If he found out there was a way to have you in the same building every day, I think he’d be beating Rebecca’s door down himself. And working in the same building doesn’t necessarily mean you spend every waking hour together. You still have crucial jobs to do. And as for me, I'd love to work with you.” Rebecca nodded in agreement.

“The job is nothing you don’t already know, the only difference is the industry.”

“Exactly, my football knowledge is… limited at best!”

“We’re a family, we wouldn’t let you drown.” Hearing Rebecca use the same phrase as Roy struck a chord with you.

“I take it you have a job spec, contract, everything I need to read through and make a decision?”

“An interview is as much about you deciding if we’re the right fit for you, as it is for us to decide. I think you’ll find that the club's current standing means we can afford to give you a generous package, and the locality means we can support a better work-life balance.”

“Take this, read it and see what you think.” You take the folder.

“As his friends, do you think I should tell Roy now, or decide based on him not knowing? I assume we’ve met here because he doesn’t know, and inviting me to Nelson Road would be a dead giveaway?”

“Perhaps tell him about the role first and then bring in where it came from. Let him help offer an opinion based on the job alone.” Rebecca suggested. “And I do so hope you’ll agree to join us, I think you could be a truly great asset to the club.”

~~~~~~~~

You’d kept the folder at your house, not daring to leave it in a bag or your car in danger of accidentally taking it to Roy’s. Being at yours also meant you could be ‘busy’ and have Lexie as a buffer and it also being your last week at your current workplace, this also gave you an excuse for being more distracted than usual. The last game of the season was doing the same for him so his being distracted also helped you. The intimacy of spending time alone at Roy’s exposed all of your vulnerabilities. You’d spent so many nights laying in the dark in his arms listening to him talk about his family and career, and have him ask about yours, it was impossible to hide anything from him. You’d mentioned the role to him, you’d had to since he knew about the original recruiter call, and he’d reacted to it exactly as you hoped he would - excited for you to have such a great opportunity, close to home, with a package befitting your knowledge and experience. You wanted to wait until after the West Ham game to tell him exactly who the role was for. Lexie was spending the night before the match at Phoebe’s for a sleepover. The night before the Man City game meant you knew exactly how he'd want to forget the West Ham match and this time, you'd planned accordingly. You'd finished your final day at work early and had blown the cash from your leaving card on the most beautiful lingerie set you'd ever seen. You'd come back via Nelson Road to borrow his keys, and gone back to his to cook. When he got back late that afternoon, you'd set up outside under the secluded canopy in his garden with soft lights, blankets and cushions. You handed him a beer and led him outside, brought food out - including dessert, and then when you'd eaten and cleared up, you stepped in front of him and slipped your summer dress down your body. He reached out and took your hand, you'd sat in his lap with your legs either side of his. He ran his finger over the cup of the bra, 

"Holy fucking shit, you're perfect," 

"Distracting enough?"

"Yeah I'd say so." He said gruffly. “It’s a good fucking job I just need to stand on the side of the pitch now.” He laughed. 

The match was intense, unexpected drama on the sidelines and Isaac’s incredible goal had everyone holding their breath for another goal or for news from the Liverpool game. When the win came, no one seemed to care what the final table result was. The fans flooded the pitch to be with their team. You, Sara and the girls had stayed back a little, you could see better as Coach Lasso danced with his team surrounding him. When you let the girls onto the pitch, they run straight to Roy and he ends up with Phoebe on his front and giving a piggyback to Lexie at the same time.

“Don’t come crying to me later when you can’t walk.” You tease, finding a route past Phoebe to give him a kiss.”

“You’re not gonna fucking take care of me?” He asks, faux outraged.

“Every. Single. Day.”

“Dad!” Lexie calls, she taps Roy’s shoulder and he lets her down. Andy is coming across the pitch from the away fans side.

“Alright love.” He scoops her up and hugs her. “Congratulations,” he says to Roy who nods without greeting. “Dunno what old Mannion was doing. Made us look like fools. Do you ehh, do you know if our gaffer is ok?”

“Yeah, that old twat is fine. Just a bruised ego and a picture of his balls on the front of every paper tomorrow.” Andy shrugs.

“I uhh, I wanted to apologise to you both. I was a real dickhead-” Roy snorts a laugh, “worse than that, then. I’m sorry. I’ve been watching since the game finished. You look happy.” He turns to you,

“I am.” You say shortly, unsure whether to trust the apology.

“Good. I mean it, you look happy together. And Lexie tells me so all the time. I’m… happy for you.” You thank him and he heads off with his mates to the pub. You’re left with the feeling that you might never be friendly, but you can at least be cordial. Relieved of carrying the kids, Roy pulls you into his arms.

“He’s jealous.”

“Of me?” he laughs,

“Of me, you muppet.” He leans down to kiss your cheek and whisper in your ear, “because you're the one. You're it. You're the only one I want for the rest of my life. And he knows he fucked it up.”

“Hmm, you're pretty irresistible yourself.” The kiss you leave him with leaves you both breathless,

“Think we can find somewhere-”

“No way, there are hundreds of people here. I need to tell you something later.” He looks curiously at you, but you both get caught up in another ‘Richmond til we Die’ chant when Jamie, Keeley and a raft of players come over to find Roy. A little further through the crowd, you see Ted sweep Rebecca into his arms and kiss her. Even an hour after the game had ended, the club was still heaving with people. The fans had gone on to celebrate elsewhere but the families and friends of the players and staff remained. Rebecca had instructed the bar to stay open, insisting that she’d cover the bill. Phoebe and Lexie were still running around on the now empty pitch with Leslie’s younger children and other player’s and staff kids. You’ve told Sara about the job and you can’t wait to tell Roy. He’s sitting with Nate, both of them animatedly discussing Jamie’s Oscar winning performance with Coach Beard. 

“Have you got an answer for me yet?” Rebecca asks, sitting next to you in the dugout.

“Yes, I think I do. I’d like to run it by someone in particular first though.” You catch Roy’s eye, he looks surprised but happy to see you talking to Rebecca. She waves her hand to call him over.

“Coach Kent, congratulations.”

“You too.”

“I meant your excellent girlfriend, not the match.” He cocks an eyebrow at her,

“Thanks then. She’s fucking brilliant.”

“I know. Thought I might poach her from you?” The furrow in his brow deepens with his confusion. You stand up and kiss the frown away.

“The amazing job I’ve been offered? It would be here. Working for Rebecca.” You tell him, trying to keep your voice light but nervous for his response.

“Here? Every day?” 

“Yeah,” you start to mistake his hesitation for annoyance, “but if you think that’s really fucking weird, then I can tell Rebecca to stuff it - no offense, Rebecca - and I can carry on looking and something else will turn up-”

“I don’t think it’s really fucking weird. I think you should say yes. You should definitely fucking do it.”

“Yeah?”

“Fuck yeah.” 

“You’d better come over tomorrow then, sign your contract.” Rebecca says with a smile. “Welcome.” You and Sara party on the pitch with the team until the girls start to flag and it’s time to go. You insist Roy stay,

“I’ll see you tomorrow, go - have an amazing night, you’ve earned it. I’m so fucking proud of you.” You kiss him and he waves you off. 

~~~~~~~

You’re reading in bed when the door knocks so quietly you think you might have imagined it. Lexie is practically comatose in her bed, the combination of exhilaration and fresh air has completely wiped her out. You creep down the stairs in one of Roy’s t-shirts and open the door. Jamie Tartt is on your doorstep with an arm slung around Roy.

“Tried to get him to come to a club with us, but he made us bring ‘im ‘ere instead.” You stifle a giggle, you can see that Roy’s nowhere near as drunk as Jamie but he’s still looking at you with total adoration.

“Thanks Jamie, I’ll take it from here. You have a good night,” you look around him to the taxi down the path. Isaac and Colin are both waving madly at you. “Be safe, boys.” You wave to them and blow a kiss before slipping your arm around Roy’s waist and guiding him inside.

“Night Coach,” Jamie grins.

“Night Tartt, fuckin’ love you man. Fuckin’ love all of you.”

“We know. And we wouldn’t have been on that fuckin’ pitch without you.” Jamie gave you both a little salute and ran off back to the taxi.

“Come on, coach. Time for bed.” You lead him upstairs and sit him on the bed so you can take off his t-shirt, then you drop to your knees and unlace his trainers. You pull his hands to get him to stand up, running your hands around the waistband of his dark jeans and pulling them down. Once they’re free of his hips, he sits back down. “Come here,” you whisper, climbing into bed and pulling him with you, his body between your legs and his head on your heart. 

“Feels like I won the whole fucking thing.” He whispers against your skin as he falls asleep.

[youhavelessproof]

mob Dickie Jaydick AU anyone?

mob Dick is a thing we've seen in canon before and it will not leave my mind so y'all get to deal with ramblings about it. :) (Crutches and also a timeline where he never met Bruce.)

brainstormed this in the bottom Dick server, but here's me trying to summarize it.

general premise: no capes AU where once Dick escaped juvie he went and killed Zucco. (not quickly, he was 8, but he's a smart kid,) and then decided well police are useless, so I'll just help people myself. (very similar to how be became Robin, but like. more real world vigilante justice which is more morally questionable than fictional vigilantes.) Dick is a part of a mob at any given time because it makes doing what he was already going to do easier. which mob changes because he's not really part of the mob to be part of the mob and it's more a access to resources thing. Dick is allowed not wear a face mask/helmet because no records of him existing really exist. he was a circus kid that just ended up placed in juvie. he doesn't have records. Jason on the other hand is just a normal fucking dude. (probably a priest like that one timeline but I've never been religious so I wouldn't really know how to write it. but I could try.) also yes obviously Jason's life has not been easy-peasy or whatever but in comparison he is so very normal.

they meet at a bar or diner or something and Dick uses Jason to get some dudes of his back. probably an "I'll owe you, but I need you to kiss me right now." regardless, Dick had no intentions of actually getting Jason interested in him, but I mean. look at him.

their meeting should've ended at that, but Jason is involved now because he keeps wanting to see that pretty boy that definitely had knives and a gun on him but. pretty 🥺

also I just wanna clarify that Dick is not killing bad people to prove a point. he doesn't even necessarily see what he's doing as 100% right. the systems are corrupt and he knows it, but he also knows he is one man with 0 resources if he didn't get involved in crime. he can't change the systems as one man, but he can help people sleep at night. (kinda think of it like fanon Red Hood. except with less "I know I'm right." because Dick is not concerned about being right, he's concerned with helping people.)

which leads to a lot of conflict with cop Babs. because she doesn't agree at all with what Dick is doing, but also? he's so... gentle with victims. and he doesn't try and hurt Babs unless she tries to arrest him. he seems like an upstanding guy but also he has a kill count. and it is not a small number.

there's no past of present Dickbabs btw. they can be a little flirty at times, but Dick wouldn't date a cop and Babs thinks Dick is too self-righteous anyways.

Jason also has moral objections, (whether just personally or because of religion depends on the priest thing,) but he understands Dick on a deeper level than Babs. he's been at the bottom, he's had to steal to live, he knows. he just wishes that Dick didn't kill. didn't cross that line. it's not a deal breaker, but it is a point of tension.

Dick is basically talking to Jason sporadically at first. nothing much but some surface level conversations, but they're more than Dick usually has with people. Dick is thinking about trying to shut out Jason because he's just a guy and he's gonna get himself hurt. like. really hurt. Leslie encourages him to talk to Jason though because she's known Dick for forever and she says he needs the company. (Leslie does not agree with what Dick is doing btw, but she found him hurt when he was like 10 and became something a confidant for the boy. plus, Dick trusts her enough to bring victims to her when they need help.)

Dick still has Roy as a friend in this AU and they are close but also Roy has a government job that Dick isn't thrilled with and Roy is not thrilled with the murder. they are best friends, but they have a lot of... tension we'll call it. (Jason will have something of a friendship with Roy, but it is mostly formed from mutual concern about Dick.) also Donna is here, but I'm gonna say she does not live in Gotham so y'know. she also doesn't like murder, but Dick's her boy so it's... not fine, but it doesn't matter.

Dick and Jason end up in a friends with benefits situation because Jason assumes Dick would not be willing to commit to relationship considering everything around him and Dick assumes Jason would only want him for his body. they are both stupid. (/affectionate.)

possibly also a marriage of convenience at some point so that Jason can't testify against Dick. how Dick would even get caught in the first place? good question, have not gotten there.

anyway one last thing: Dick does not share his name like. at all. Donna knows it and maybe Roy too but generally it's either aliases or nicknames people call him. so when he tells Jason his name is Dick it is a big deal.

"see you around." "Dick." "huh?" "that's my name. Dick." "in that case, see you around, Dick." "see you, Jace."

anyway this AU will not leave my brain. I like role reversals when they're done in a specific way and this one just itches my brain.

also some quick little things: * I have no idea if Babs is a cop in any DC timeline, however the reason I chose this is so that she can still interact with Dick on some level. because while I don't like Dickbabs personally generally, she is an important character to Dick and I think her being to cop that's chasing him fits better than Gordon. * Roy used to be a government agent in mainline canon. I don't particularly love it for him, but I understand why they chose it and it is canon. I am not making him work for the government out of nowhere or just to fit into the narrative. there is a basis for it. * yes I do recognize that not everyone that is important to Dick has been included. I have not fleshed out every role in this AU and haven't decided what Kori, Wally, etc. will be. * as I mentioned in the post itself, priest Jason is canon to a specific timeline in the DC comics. you can like or not like it, but I am not pulling it out of my ass. (the flashpoint timeline which yes is supposed to be a bad timeline, but my point stands.) * "where's x member of the Batfamily?" I don't know. Tim is probably doing fine just living a normal life. Damian might not even exist. I will probably include Damian just because I love Dick parenting him, but like. I have no idea where the rest of the Batfamily is and this ain't about them. /lh * just because something is in a canon DC timeline does not mean I think it's in character or a good character choice, (looking at you cop Dickie), but I am saying that I think it's fair game for AUs. (like really anything is fair game for AUs, but you hopefully know what I mean.)

sorry to get a bit defensive, just thought I'd explain some of this AU upfront just to deal with some misinterpretations that might happen in one go. <3

Mob Dickie and Normal Guy Jason my beloved. maybe I will explore you in an actual fic someday.

[liesmyth]

do you see any RJK / artashipatrick parallels? ive been thinking about it a lot lately and wanted to get ur viewpoint

hi hi hi! I actually saw this opinion a couple of times in Ted Lasso fandom, but personally I don't share it. I AM very curious about your reasoning for it because I love looking at ships from different angles and seeing what people take from them.

my tldr is that I don't think RKJ has anything in common with the Challengers trio, beyond the fact that they're about two men ostensively fighting over a girl while also engaging in the kind of simmering homoeroticism that permeates elite men's sport. (this Marylin Frie quote says it better) I get why this can seem a parallel by itself but, to me, it's just a function of both ships being set in a Sports Media canon. When it comes to characters and their dynamics, these ships are built very differently IMO.

relative to each other:

the Challengers trio all start out as peers, both in age and in relative success level of their careers. They're all finalists in the Junior US Open when they meet. RKJ as a dynamic is absolutely hierarchical in comparison: you have Roy being a Legacy kind of Big Name in the sport, Jamie as the talented up-and-comer who idolised him growing up, and while he has promise, there's non guarantee he can come even close to the kind of career Roy's implied to have had. And then there's Keeley, who's absolutely an outsider in their world, and on a systemic level is much lower down the pecking order. I think Ted Lasso, especially in S1 and S2 does a great job giving an overview of, like, how transactional footballers/wags relationships inherently ARE, even to people who aren't already familiar with the context — not just the financial asymmetry and stark difference in career and life prospects but just, like. She's the girl peeking into the changing room and saying, Hi Boys. Jamie makes a joke about oogling her ass because they are both in on the joke that they fulfil a very specific stereotypical relationship dynamic.

Even if on a personal level both Roy and Jamie really respect and admire Keeley, she Does Not Belong in their hyperfocused sport-as-sexually-charged-rivarly world. Art and Patrick want to fuck Tashi first and foremost because she's a tennis phenomenon, they value her athletic abilities and coaching insight. That's a whole completely different dynamic from what's going on between RKJ. Compare Art and Patrick complimenting Tashi's performance at the US Open to Roy and Jamie "fighting over her" in 3x12 where it's all about who she likes more. As someone who actually liked the bar fight because I think it shows a very realistic ugly side to these characters (*) it's just. two men fighting over a girl. vs two athletes being so impressed by someone who is a girl and also a star athlete in her own right.

(*) asterisk because I absolutely loathed so many writing choices in S3, like, even if I like some seeds of plots I hate how they were executed. Oh my god typing this out is making me want to completely AU S3 of TL. anyway; I have beef with the pacing and stuff around that scene but I like the existence of the scene itself.

Keeley and Tashi couldn't be more different

Tashi is just. Her personality is most similar to Roy's, imo. She lives and breathes tennis. She needs to be around that world to live; she struggles to fill the void left with coaching (and living vicariously through Art to an extent). Keeley, meanwhile, makes fun of Roy feeling like the world is ending when he finally admits to himself that he can't go on any longer. Mind, I think that lighthearted "it's not the end of the world" attitude was precisely what Roy needed to hear at that point, because he takes himself too seriously and needed someone to tell him that he can live without football, actually — but the fact that Keeley just Doesn't Get It on a fundamental level, again, marks her as an outsider to the kind of all-encompassing elite athlete attitude Roy and Jamie share. She doesn't even like football! She's occasionally flighty (good for her). She's turning 30 and doesn't know where her life is going (SO valid). She's a completely different personality than the kind of single-minded all-or-nothing attitude you NEED to make it as a pro athlete. Again: her dynamic with the two men who are into her couldn't be any different than Art/Tashi/Patrick, BECAUSE she's a completely different personality. If she was in Challengers, she'd be one of the normie Stamford kids Patrick and Tashi make fun of.

IDK. I think any similarity between Tashi and Keeley starts and ends at "they're both women". Maybe I'm being uncharitable here! I'm someone who thinks that Keeley's portrayal in fanon flattens her a bit (in the way female characters in the periphery of a m/m ship are often put on a pedestal and shoved off the way) so I'm definitely bringing some of my own baggage here; that's why I'd love to know what parallels others see. But I think she and Tashi have very different neuroses. THAT SAID. If I was writing a crossover Ted Lasso / Challengers fic, I really think Tashi/Keeley would be my ship of choice

[thetarttfuldickhead]

A Jamie-centric pre-OT3 Christmas story told in 25 short chapters.

Masterpost / AO3

25.

Epilogue

Roy called her in the evening, as Keeley was carefully removing her make-up in front of the bathroom mirror. It had been a long day, a stifled Christmas lunch with her mother followed by Richmond’s home game against Norwich in the afternoon. At least Richmond had won, managing a by the skin of their teeth 1-0 after a late and defiant goal by Jamie.

She thought she’d seen him looking up at the VIP box as the team celebrated around him, and she’d blown him a little kiss, even if she knew the distance was too far for him to catch it.

Next to her, Rebecca had raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow in a perfect expression of slightly sceptical interest. “And here I thought you were here to support me.”

“I am here to support you,” Keeley had said firmly. “Because I’m an amazing friend and I’d show up to support you with chants and balloons of cute animals and stuff at your murder trial, especially if Rupar’s the victim. But I told you, he’s been having a rough time of it.”

Not telling Rebecca about what had gone down with Jamie and Roy the other day had never been an option. Rebecca had listened with a frown, and asked if she needed to do anything about James Tartt. Keeley had said no, for the moment: Jamie needed to be the one to make the call on that.

“Hey you,” Roy said now, looking properly fit in the black suit he usually put on for his pundit appearances (and which, to the untrained eye, looked identical to all his other black suits, but Keeley knew him and fashion better than most, and thought the Hugo Boss was a particularly nice look on him).

“Hi, babe.” Keeley propped the phone against a moisturiser bottle, so she could continue her routine while they talked. “You back from work then?”

“Yeah. Took fucking ages, because Cartrick wouldn’t fucking shut up. You’d think he’d run out of things to be wrong about after six hours, but no, if the filming crew hadn’t started making noises about needing to go home to their families, we’d still be there.”

Keeley hummed in agreement, even though she suspected Roy was maybe exaggerating things a little. Sometimes it was best to just let him vent belligerently for a bit, get it out of his system. Besides, it was lovely to have him care about things enough to be pissed about them again. Roy was a passionate man, and Keeley loved him for it; having seen him go through the motions with nary a flicker of true feeling throughout the autumn had been awful.

Speaking of caring… “You catch any of the Richmond game?” she asked.

He grunted. “We didn’t really cover any of the Championship games, but yeah, saw some of the highlights.”

“Jamie played well, didn’t he? Seemed a little more aggressive than he’s been lately.”

Roy grunted again, but kept his mouth stubbornly shut. Not ready to talk about the advice he’d given Jamie last night, then. Fair enough; it’d keep.  

Roy kept on saying nothing, though, when normally he would have tried to move on by changing the subject or asking her about her day. When Keeley glanced over at the screen she saw that he was looking unhappy, dark eyebrows furrowed.

Keeley cocked her head to the side. “You all right, babe? Something on your mind?”

“No, it’s… “ He paused, and she waited, until finally he let out a frustrated huff. “It’s just Jamie’s fucking dad, right?” His lips curled. “I can’t stop thinking— Jamie was in a right fucking mess when I walked in on them. Not physically, it was just scrapes, but he was so fucking quiet. It wasn’t natural, not having the little muppet run his mouth like he was getting paid for it.”

“He seemed all right after,” Keeley said hesitantly, because Jamie had, when he left them on the morning of Christmas Eve and when they talked to him yesterday. Happier than normally, even. But Roy was right, it seemed a little strange in retrospect, that he had shaken it off so completely, given the state of him when she first arrived at Roy’s three nights ago. “You think he’s used to it,” she realised aloud. “That’s why he bounced back so quickly.”

“I know arseholes like that, okay? My sister fucking married one. So yeah, I don’t think it’s the first time it happened, and it probably won’t be the last either, and I keep on fucking wondering if his dad’s the reason he walked out on City, and City’s playing Chelsea in a couple of week s and I—“ He paused again. “I know it’s fucking stupid, it’s none of my business. I don’t even like the prick.”

Keeley had a sneaking suspicion that that wasn’t quite as true as it once had been, but she didn’t mention that. Let Roy reach that conclusion when he was ready to. “I think it’s sweet,” she said instead. “The way you stepped in when he needed you to, and took care of him. I mean it,” she added off his predictable eye-roll. “I’m really proud of you, babe. And,” she pressed on, because it was true and because she knew he tended to get a little uncomfortable when things got too earnest, “it was kind of sexy, too.”

Roy’s eyebrows rose at that. “You thought me taking care of Jamie was sexy? What happened to your thing being me crying pathetically?”

“Girls have deep and complex tastes, Royo. So yeah, you being vulnerable and passionate is really hot, but as it turns out, you being all caring and protective and fetching tea really gets me going as well.” She smiled at him and he scoffed, but smiled back. “Seriously, though,” she continued, “I was thinking we should ask Jamie over some day. Just hang out a little, make sure he’s all right.”

Roy’s eyes narrowed. “You better not be suggesting we invite him to Sexy Christmas.”

“No,” Keeley said with a small a laugh, even as the thought of it sent a pleasant shiver through her. Sex with Roy was fantastic. Sex with Jamie had always been amazing. Both of them, and with the way she suspected their tastes would run exceedingly compatible, with her and with each other… Well. A girl could dream (and maybe have a wank once she got of the phone with Roy). “But dinner sometime soon, yeah?

“Fine,” Roy said, sounding like he was only reluctantly agreeing to do her a favour, but she knew him well enough to see the relief in his dark eyes.

Fuck, but she loved him. The way he cared so deeply, even when he didn’t want to, and even when he would sneer at the assertion.

“You’re so fucking hot,” she told him. “I can’t wait for the 28:th.”

He smiled for real then, that wide grin he reserved for just her and sometimes Phoebe and his sister. “Me neither,” he agreed. “I’ll see you then.”

“Yeah, see you then. Love you.”

“Love you.”

They hung up, and Keeley yawned. It was getting late, and she had to be up early tomorrow, for an entire day of what was supposedly just a bit of informal mingling for publicists, a little holiday get together on Jace Asthon’s country house, but which was in actuality the networking opportunity of the year for people in her line of business. She needed to be well-rested and looking ready to slay for this one, and had a bunch of people and business to read up on, potential sponsors and partners for Richmond.

She still took the time to send a couple of texts before turning out the lights.

hey jamie

got any plans for new year’s eve?

She hardly had time to set the phone down before it pinged with his reply.

Doesn’t really give a shit if I’m not playing for City.

Something slid into place then. “Is that why you did Lust Conquers All?” Roy asked. “To get away from you dad?”

Jamie didn’t answer, but that just said it all, didn’t it?

[imtheiliad]

SEVEN SENTENCE SUNDAY tagged by @panbuckley @prince-buck-diaz and @911onabc have some michael and eddie 🥰

...Now enough business -- let's get back to you. I know you were avoiding it. I did win the office pool on if you would cause another spectacle.” “Can't believe I trusted you?” Eddie gasps melodramatically. “What is really going on here?” “Nothing.” Eddie shrugs, “Evan is just someone I know. There was an unfortunate incident involving the both of us. We fixed it. It's fine.” Michael fixes him with a look, not entirely convinced, ”Well I think that we can both agree that he's pretty handsome can't we?“ ”I mean, if you like, you know, fairy tale princes and shit.“ ”You're telling me that you don’t want that?” “I don't believe that it's real, you know in this reality. Or I had my chance and lost it.” Michael looks at him skeptically again. He looks indignant right back. “Just remembering your little prince evan voodoo doll last summer. ”I had one magazine with one picture of him in it. There were far more pictures of me-- I was also on the cover so,“ ”I caught you staring at that singular picture more than once Eddie.“ Eddie rolls his eyes, sighing as he leans forward. ”It seemed like if you tried hard enough maybe he would spring to life from the page and you could then--“ ”What is the point of this exaggeration?“ ”I just find it interesting how fast things have shifted.“ ”It was either that or fake my death,“ he laughs lightly, ”And it's politics. You know how I love that.“ The look comes back, and Eddie isn't sure why he didn't expect it. ”I came here with a political agenda from Athena, not to discuss my own fuck ups.“ ”I thought you wanted to say hi to an old family friend?“ ”Right.“   ”Don't you have something better to do with precious baby-free time Eddie? Isn't there something else you would want to do with that, you're twenty-one. You have a kid, you didn't join a seminary. You should be going out and doing whatever people your age do.” “I do! Sometimes. Occasionally. Rarely.” “And you should have friends!” “I have friends.” “That are not Karen or related to you.” Eddie huffs. “You need to take breaks, kid. Use your support system. I know you have very legitimate reasons for taking on parenting on your own, and I commend you for it. But use the people you have so you don't wear yourself thin too fast.” Eddie rubs his face and sighs, “I know. I am trying.” “As long as you are trying,“ he smiles gently, “Now I have some real work to do here, so go,” he shoos Eddie toward the door, “Take this precious time. Enjoying it doesn't mean you don't love him any less. And don't forget to make me that list!“

tagging @useramor @roy-kents @queertartt @heartbeatdiaz @bucks118 @cowboydiazes @alyxmastershipper and anyone who wants to share! <3

[itsclydebitches]

It seems unlikely we'll get this now that Ted has had his triangle epiphany (and the club is presumably set to begin their upswing), so I just want to throw out that I was really hoping for a 'These are our true priorities' moment. Meaning, we began this journey with Ted telling Trent that he does not believe in wins and losses and though others (mostly Beard) have helped him to see the importance and meaning of putting effort into winning (particularly when there are livelihoods on the line), Ted has never actually wavered from his philosophy -- just adapted it. He, Beard, Roy, and formally Nate have created a balanced coaching system that allows others to manage the strategy/competitive edge while Ted focuses on the team's spirit.

Now, in Season 3, they're faced not only with a string of losses, but a string of wins prior to that which rest pretty squarely on the shoulders of one player, Zava. The implication is that the team itself is failing. If the team fails, the implication of that is a failure of the coach. Hence Higgins' very tentative suggestion that they rethink Ted's place here if this continues.

Post-Episode 6 it's looking like it won't come to that, simply because we presume that Ted's big idea will pay off. I could be wrong, of course, but I was reeeeaaally hoping for some side-plot where Higgins' and Rebecca's conversation gets out somehow, preferably to the whole team. I was looking forward to both the himbo shenanigans of the boys thinking they might loose Ted as well as the more serious reflection on why that terrifies them. Don't they want a coach who's going to ensure that they win? After all, everyone (understandably) booed Ted at the start. Who's this bumbling, naive outsider coming in to ruin our chances? Is this a fucking joke?

Basically, I wanted a scene where the boys tell a still-periodically-yelling-at-Ted Rebecca that no, you can't fire him. We don't care if we win! ...okay yes, of course we care, but if it comes down to getting relegated again or loosing our coach, we'll take getting relegated, easy. You know Isaac slamming his fist down and announcing that whatever they're doing in Amsterdam they're doing together, as a team? Give me that energy poised against the threat of Ted being ousted (not, I want to clarify, his own choice to leave which we might get at the end of the season), with a side of Rebecca realizing that the need to beat Rupert isn't really the same thing as needing the club to win. They're connected, but ultimately her demons won't be assuaged by a football victory; it's just an emotional Band-Aid. Besides, which is worse: Rupert gloating when the club continues to do badly... or her facing him without dart winning, speech giving, hug extraordinaire Ted Lasso around to support her?

Anyway this isn't really a criticism because I fucking loved the latest episode, but it IS a fic idea I might have to put out into the world some day :)

[kittythelitter]

Ted Lasso finale AU where most things are the same but we encourage cutting out the toxic people in our beloved characters' lives.

Jamie gets a restraining order against his dad and they never speak again. Maybe his dad gets sober and supports him from afar. But it's both a bad writing decision for Jamie's arc and a bad message* for the show for them to reconcile without at the very least having Jamie's dad make some kind of reparations in the show.

Beard gets away from Jane even if he doesn't want to because she's so fucking bad for him and dating her is self destructive. Maybe Jane pulls some bullshit that requires the club to get a restraining order against her and then Beard has to choose between her and the club and Higgins puts his fucking foot down and insists that if Beard chooses Jane over the club he at the very least talks to Doc Sharon about it first because Higgins loves Beard, everyone at Richmond loves Beard, but if he leaves for Jane he can't come to games or be in their lives which would tear away his whole support system in England and make him entirely dependent on Jane. Which would be really bad for him. And it's not an ultimatum. But legally Beard can't be a part of Richmond if he's with her. Higgins would try to be there for Beard but the Diamond Dogs aren't the Diamond Dogs if one of them can't legally come to Richmond. It's very fraught but Beard hugs Higgins and talks to Doc Sharon and tells Jane that he needs the club more than he needs her and Higgins helps him block and delete her numbers and email and shit when she flips out.

Maybe she does something unhinged and breaks the restraining order and gets arrested. Maybe Beard spends a few nights sleeping at the club to keep himself safe from her. Maybe Higgins puts him up in his house to keep him safe because Jane burned down his fucking apartment.

No matter what, it's important to me that Beard gets away from Jane and Higgins helps him. Because that was such a good storyline that was totally abandoned and it would be a much better message* for the show to have than Jane and Beard getting married without Ted there and having a baby because that's fucking stupid.

As an aside I don't love Rebecca with the random Dutch man. Like I want her to be happy and if he makes her happy more power to her, buuuut it seems less like she likes him and more like she likes the idea of him so maybe instead.

And this is absolutely unhinged but it crawled into my brain and I kind of love it?

Beard and Rebecca have an incredibly ill-advised hookup exactly once right as he breaks up with Jane and she's grieving her friendship with Ted and retroactively like. Maybe I did love Ted romantically? But now it's too late? And like. Whether she did love Ted romantically, or is just grieving and in a culture that values romance over friendship and the power of her feelings are overwhelming her sense is up to interpretation. But either way. She's having big feelings and Beard is the closest thing to Ted she's got and he's having a melt down over Jane so. Exactly 1 hookup that defies every possible odd and they're platonically Co-parenting a child.

Ted loves this kid more than anything and visits way more often because of it, though. To be clear. I agree with Ted going back to the states because this story is an Odyssey and just like Dorothy no matter how much he loves Oz and his friends he needs to return to Kansas. And I could make a whole separate post on that. But anyway. BeardBecca baby that baffles and confuses everyone but somehow works. They're good friends who bond over their baby, their unexpected love of football/Richmond, and their love of Ted and have a very bizarre friendship that involves co-parenting a fucking brilliant chaotic child.

Also. I am a Roy/Keeley/Jamie truther so. I love Keeley choosing herself and I definitely want her to figure out who she is outside of a relationship for a while. But she and the boys eventually start all dating.

*To clarify: normally I'm not one to double down on the message that a show sends unless it's literally something that is educational and/or designed to teach children about their feelings, but Ted Lasso very much tries to teach the average American viewer about healthy ways to process emotions and non-toxic masculinity etc. So the messages it sends about relationships and forgiveness are very much part of the show and its purpose so having these shitty messages kind of undermines the purpose.

[chainofclovers]

Nate the Great

Hello, I am here because I cannot stop thinking about Nathan Shelley and the many things that are Happening with him. Spoiler-cut for spoilers through Ted Lasso 2x8 and speculation based on conversations w/@bristler, other people in the fandom, a really great interview with Nick Mohammed, and the endless barrage of thoughts in my head!

In 1x7, when Nate gets his chance to roast the players before their match in Liverpool, I both delighted and cringed at the moment. Nate's big moment gets the intended results--he riles up the players by hitting them where it hurts, and that energy nets Ted and the team a much-needed win. But I've always felt that part of why Nate is allowed to deliver his speech in such an uncensored way has a lot to do with Ted's shame that he got drunk and snapped at Nate the night before. It took vulnerability for Nate to decide to slip his thoughts about the team underneath Ted's door, and Ted wasn't in a position to recognize that act for what it was; Ted makes Nate feel weak, and that's got to be crushing coming from someone who's become a mentor and friend. At the same time, Ted is starting to evolve into a person who understands winning is important, so he makes the call that's going to help the team win...and ends up unwittingly rewarding the crueler parts of Nate in the process.

Fast forward to season 2, and Nate still hasn't learned the difference between vulnerability and weakness. The people in his life who understand the difference haven't fully comprehended how much Nate needs to learn it, and they haven't taught him, and Nate's own feelings of self-worth are so bound up in external factors that he's not able to pick it up by osmosis, either.

So now I can't stop thinking about the moment in 2x8 when Higgins and the coaches huddle before the big match and Ted tells everyone he's been having panic attacks. Everyone goes around and spontaneously shares something they've been keeping to themselves, and each person's admission feels like an act of solidarity. Vulnerability. But Nate sees weakness, and his own admission is actually about his ability to be calculating--his ability to make an idea feel spontaneous.

I keep imagining a moment when fame- and power-hungry Nate gets an opportunity to be in the spotlight, and I imagine another moment like the locker room scene in 1x7. A moment with spontaneous-feeling energy that's actually totally calculated. And this time, instead of a cringe-y moment easily forgotten because it brought victory, this moment could be devastating and profoundly regrettable.

Because what if Nate tells the press his own version of the vulnerable stories his friends and colleagues shared in confidence. The weak versions of their vulnerability.

In my imagined version of Nate's words to the press, Ted isn't a man seeking treatment for his panic disorder; he's unfit to coach due to untreated mental illness. Roy isn't an impatient person who doesn't bother to read the coaching reports Ted, Beard, and Nate put together; he's a star whose ego allows him to coast on fame without having to bother with the details of the team. Higgins isn't a harried, office-less professional who messed up a timezone; he's inept and in over his head and sabotaged the roster of the team. Beard isn't a normally-perceptive coach who made a mistake with the mushroom tea because he's being abused by his girlfriend and lacks his usual support system; he's a drug user who lets his personal relationships get in the way of his professional responsibilities.

There's a grain of truth to everything Nate says, but he's lacking the spirit of why he has this information, the context of vulnerability, the preciousness of this one oasis of connection between coaches who are currently disjointed.

I know there's a lot of talk about the relationship between Sam and Rebecca and the Dubai Air and Bantr sponsorships and how those could be a big issue in the press. I definitely think that's a big possibility, but everyone involved in that subplot has a support system. They have a place to land no matter how bad things get, and the show already does a great job depicting how incredibly cruel and unfair the British press can be about personal matters.

This stuff with Nate, though...while the coaches do have a support system and people they can trust, all those connections seem so much more tenuous. And Nate isn't able to trust anyone right now, least of all himself. So the more abusive he gets, he could really fuck a lot of people over, and he might be the one who gets the most hurt in the end.

There's a lot to appreciate about the interview with Nick Mohammed linked above, but I want to particularly call out the fact that he points out that in s1, when he's angry with Rebecca, he calls her a "shrew." I knew that wasn't just a throwaway line, a moment of casual misogyny overlooked, somehow, by the multi-gender writers' room. It was absolutely intentional, absolutely a sign of how far he can go even on a dime when he's upset. He also points out the importance of Rebecca telling him early in s2 that he deserves what he wants. Imagine the irony of that coming back to haunt her if Nate betrays the team (and Rebecca by extension), or if he hurts Rebecca again more personally. I also appreciate that Mohammed lets us know that he's not going to die in season 2 and that he has a storyline in season 3.

I just think there's going to be a lot of pain on the way there.

(This show is so good. Even if it goes nothing like what I'm predicting here, I have every confidence that the betrayal arc is going to be intense and earned.)

[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.

[thetriggeredhappy]

day 1 let’s fuckin’ go. everyone listen to butterflies by samsa

Day 1: Pursuit

“You seriously don’t have any better games than this?” Scout complained, looking back down at the board, doubtful. “Not even, like, a deck of cards? To play poker or somethin’?”

“Rather not play two-person poker, and I don’t like gambling anyways,” was Sniper’s reply, not glancing up from shuffling the cards.

“I mean, maybe Go Fish then, or Old Maid, or—or somethin’, not fuckin’… Trivial Pursuit.”

Sniper seemed to mull that over for a moment. “If you don’t want to play,” he started to say, hesitant, and Scout sputtered to cut him off before he could finish that thought.

“I, I mean, I didn’t say that,” he managed, still half-glaring down at the board. “Just, y’know.”

Sniper probably didn’t know, actually. Truthfully, Scout wasn’t much for… book smarts type games. Games that needed quick reflexes, talking quickly, theatrics, those he was a champion at besides his eternally bad luck, but facts and numbers and geography? Those he tended to sort of… fuck up beyond recognition. And he really, really didn’t want to look like a complete idiot in front of Sniper.

Kind of the worst case scenario, actually. But the worse worst case scenario was driving the guy away before even getting to hang out with him, here, the first time he’d ever agreed to one of Scout’s dozens of proposed hangouts.

Hell, he’d honestly gotten used to Sniper always saying no. ‘Nah’ and ‘Not this time’ and ‘Afraid not, sorry mate’ were three phrases Scout had heard at least three and four times a week for months, now. He’d started brushing right through it, stopped letting it hurt his feelings even, although he couldn’t help but get his hopes up, still. Invitations to team drinking nights and poker parties and carpooling with the guys to the movies or a bar or a casino, or more overt invitations to listen to new albums or go out to get fast food or to fairs or to concerts, he’d long since gotten used to those standard, polite rejections.

So he was surprised, then, when he’d delivered his offhanded invitation—“Hey, Snipes, all the other guys bailed on the rec room game night tonight, you wanna be there anyways?”—he hadn’t expected Sniper to hesitate for a few seconds before shrugging and saying sure.

Hell, he was halfway through his ‘yeah no problem no worries man’ before he even realized Sniper said yes, then it was fumbling the whole rest of the way.

Better to be an idiot friend than a distant acquaintance, maybe. That’s what he told himself.

A brief mumbled rundown of the rules went in one ear and out the other as he got preoccupied with looking over one of the cards, mind boggled by what the hell the letters and colors were supposed to mean. A short summary was nodded at vaguely, and apparently his poker face had been terrible all along, because Sniper shrugged and said that they could just play first to six questions right and tally up wins from there. Then they rolled a dice and Sniper, apparently, would go first.

“Alright, uh,” Scout said, squinting down at the little card. “What does a… he-leo-logist, study?”

Sniper thought about it for a second. “Er… the sun,” he replied.

“Yep,” Scout nodded, nudged a piece towards him. Sniper took it. “So, uh, you go again?”

“Yeah. Er… geography, this time,” Sniper mumbled, shuffling some pieces around in a way that probably made sense to people who actually knew how this board game worked.

“Sure. What’s… the country that has South America’s highest and lowest points?”

Another pause. “Bloody… Argentina, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Damn. Okay, next one,” Scout said, less concerned about the fact that Sniper was doing well and more worried at the fact that he was gonna do awful.

“Geography again,” Sniper determined.

“What natural… breakwater, is off the north… eastern, part of Australia?” he read, a little stilted, squinting at the letters, like that would help, for once. Silence, for a pause, then for longer. Scout breathed an internal sigh of relief, smiling a little. “C’mon, it’s your own fuckin’, uh… country, continent, thing, isn’t it?”

“It’s both,” Sniper said, and paused. “It… it’s not talking about the bloody, er… Solomon Islands, is it?”

“Great Barrier Reef,” Scout replied.

Sniper muttered a swear. “Overthought it,” he sighed, nudging the dice over to Scout, who rolled it. Sniper glanced at the number, moved the pieces, looked at a card. “Right. What craft uses a… kiln, and a kick wheel?”

Scout could’ve cried. “That’s, uh, pottery, sculpting,” he said, relieved.

A nod from Sniper, a piece scooped onto his side of the table, the dice rolled a few seconds later when he realized he was supposed to do that. “How many colors are in the rainbow?” he asked next.

Scout had to count off on his fingers for a second. “Uh, seven,” he said, and fist-pumped when Sniper nodded, scooping up another piece. “Even though it’s, uh, kinda bullishit. There should be six.”

Sniper’s eyebrows ticking up in confusion probably was a sign he should drop it, but instead he found himself spouting off.

“Because, uh, like, y’know, there’s—there’s the kinds of colors, right?” he said, backpedaling at his response of furrowed eyebrows. “Like, the basic ones, the, uh, primary colors, that’s red and yellow and blue, y’know? And then the other three, that you get from mixing those, like, uh, red and yellow is, uh… is orange, and then like, green, and purple, you combine ‘em, right?”

Sniper nodded slowly after a moment.

“But then you got, uh, fuckin’… indigo. In the, uh, in the list of colors, fuckin’, Roy G. Biv? Red orange yellow, green, blue indigo violet? And I know it’s, like, blue and dark blue, but I think that still sucks. If we’ve got indigo we’ve gotta have like, the other in- between guys. Know what I mean?”

“Don’t have much of an opinion on it, but, sounds like you’re making points,” Sniper said, and Scout shrugged, glanced down at the table, tapped his fingertips against his knees out of sight to try and let out some nervous energy. “Bloody, er… your turn, or mine?”

“Uh, mine,” Scout said, scrambling to roll the dice.

“Right. Sorry. Er…” Sniper read over the card. “Patron saint of Scotland?”

Scout swore under his breath, deflating a little, coming up blank. “Uh… hey, Demo!” he called, and heard a vague ‘aye’ from the kitchen. “Who’s the patron saint of Scotland?”

“My mum,” Demo called back, and Sniper snickered, at least, which softened the blow to Scout’s confidence considerably.

“Ah, fuck off,” Scout called back, and looked back at Sniper, smiling. “Saint Scrumpy, fuck, I dunno.”

“Saint Andrew, apparently,” Sniper shrugged, rolling the dice. “Sports question. The orange one.”

Scout tried to read the question before starting to say anything out loud, and found himself completely lost anyways. “Who was the first… Ch—Check-uh-slavarian… to win, the… Wimbleton…”

“No idea,” Sniper said outright, shaking his head at himself. “Don’t follow, er… what, the Olympics?”

“Tennis, I guess,” Scout shrugged, rolling the dice.

“Sports for you too. What did… bloody hell. What did second baseman Bill… Wambsganss, do all by himself in the, er… 1920 World Series game?”

“Oh, shit,” Scout laughed, “guy did, like, a triple play, and then hit into a double later that same game. That was the year some guy got hit in the head with a ball and fuckin’ died.”

Sniper was staring at him, clearly shocked.

“What?” Scout asked, rolling the dice. “I know baseball. And it was a whole thing.”

Sniper seemed to shrug it off, shaking his head. “What’s the Taj Mahal made of?”

“Fuckin’, I dunno, chocolate? What, that some kinda dessert? What’s that?” Scout scoffed, trying to play it off.

“It’s… it’s a place. Looks a bit like a castle? Like, er, like the Eiffel Tower, or Big Ben, tourist sort of thing?” Sniper tried, and Scout shrugged, and he shrugged back, rolling the dice. “Fair enough. One of the, er, Science ones. Green one.”

Scout looked at the card for a few seconds. “I… dunno how to say this word. Glue… glay… what’s that?”

Sniper leaned over, and Scout turned it towards him. “Glaucoma. Hits your eyes,” he said, and Scout nodded, and he took a piece, rolled again. “Brown one.”

“What are… catalogued, under the Dewey decimal system?” Scout asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“Books, library books,” Sniper mumbled.

“Jesus, are you—where’s the mirrors, seriously? How are you doing that?” Scout asked, and Sniper huffed something like a laugh, taking the piece, rolling again. “No, no, seriously. How the hell do you know half of these?”

“Geography, blue,” he prompted.

“Alright, I swear to god.” Scout held the card close as he read it, first to himself, then out loud. “What national capital is heated by underground hot springs?”

Sniper, to his credit, paused for a moment before answering. “Iceland’s. Reykjavik, it’s called.”

“I swear to god.” Scout flipped over the card, read the answer. “Oh, what the fuck!”

“I’ve bloody been there!” Sniper defended.

“Nah, fuck off, hold on—“ Scout picked up another card, reading another question. “Where in a tree does photosynthesis happen?”

“Leaves.”

“How do you know that so fast!” Scout demanded.

“That’s just science class in school!”

“Fuckin’—who, fuckin’, rode on the raft with Huck Finn?” Scout asked next.

“The, er… runaway, Jim.”

“Oh, what!” Scout all but shouted.

“Scout, I read.”

“Nah, nah, you’re way too good at this game, either you’re like, cheating, or you on purpose picked this game because you’re, like, weirdly crazy good at it or something!”

Sniper’s expression went from amusement to that blankness again, and it only made Scout even more infuriated.

“I mean, seriously, did you pick this game on purpose because you just know all the cards? Did you just wanna do the game where you’d for sure win?” he demanded.

Sniper was fidgeting with his glasses, now, and to be honest, Scout wasn’t even particularly mad, just confused.

“I mean, shit, you’d think you just wanted too play this one so you could look smart and cool and shit like that,” he said. and saw the way Sniper shrank a little, and the lightbulb went off way too late.

A pause.

“Dude,” Scout said, fighting down a laugh.

Sniper mumbled something he didn’t quite hear, sinking in his chair.

“Alright, seriously, if you wanna look smarter than me, you really don’t gotta pull out the trivia questions. Pretty much any game works, you know that, right? I’ll make an idiot of myself playing, like… Uno,” Scout said. Sniper shrugged, still not looking him in the eye. “Okay. Here’s an idea. How about we play, uh… I dunno, Crazy Eights. And while we play I’m gonna keep grilling you on this random trivia shit because seriously, that’s totally nuts, man.”

Sniper hesitated for a few seconds before he finally nodded and straightened up, and in a way, they both won. Scout because he now at least knew he wasn’t the only one who was a total mess and way too worried about what other people thought, and Sniper because he could keep being impressive about random trivia knowledge. Apparently, he knew a bunch about geography and books and nature, and not a single thing about sports.

Scout accused him of trying to memorize the cards. Sniper laughed, properly, for the first time all night.

[envythepalmtree]

fma blogs to follow?

Ooh I've actually been planning on making this post for a while too!

Art blogs that ID their own posts that you should follow

@morningsaidthemoon - does ids in alt text! I really love their pieces - they're kinda soft in like. color and lines? and tender if that makes sense. Multifandom, they tag fandoms.

@mildly-artsy - @mildly-nerdy's new art blog! also does them in alt text. Her lines are so clean and I love how people look in her style. Mostly FMA.

Other blogs that write IDs and/or look through the notes for IDs (that you should follow and reblog the IDed version of posts)

@liathgray - they're the author of Blackwell Springs, an extremely popular fic I have not read yet, and the A Hop, Skip, and a Jump series that I'm very much obsessed with. Multifandom, they tag fandoms.

@nerdywriiterchild - bro I love their xerxes fics so much 😔 Multifandom.

@xingeseprince - IDs almost everything. Good descriptions! Sideblog, all FMA.

@princess-of-purple-prose - the meme ID person! (They're one of the people who started a huge doc of ID templates for memes to save people spoons, which is cool.) Multifandom, tags fandoms, mostly not FMA.

Other art blogs I love

I wish I could tag like. every one of my art mutuals but alas I'd be making color of the sky 2.0 😔 So sorry if I didn't tag you, I'm kinda just scrolling through my following list and picking urls at random here, all of you guys are amazing!

@chewytran - their royai college au!! is so cute!! All their royai stuff is just. chef's kiss. Art sideblog, mostly FMA. Other fandoms are tagged.

@wawayu - their use of light and colors man!! Art sideblog, majority FMA. (Also. check their notes when rbing their art because I rb and ID like. everything they post lol)

@neorei - their homunculi art!! Wish I had art-critic-training (is that a thing) so I could properly express the emotions that their art invokes. but. ahh it's so melancholy and kinda abstract, the kind of art that you could find different meanings in. Sideblog, all FMA.

@fmamangacaps - Photoshop counts as art. Their cleaning up of manga panels and tagging system is a godsend.

@humming-fly - you probably already follow them but their team greed comics are just so funny!! I always have at least one of their pieces in my drafts that I'm procrastinating on IDing lol. Multifandom.

@pumi-envy - just. lots of art of Envy. Sometimes I'm looking through the Envy tag and the majority of it is me and this artist. I love that for us. Their style's super cute. All FMA. (again. check the notes on their art 'cause I reblog and ID everything they put on my dash)

One of those Royai writers whom posts from me and my positivity blog mutuals always seem to make it to

Don't ask me why this is a category, it's just funny to me when my positivity blog posts or posts from my positivity moots make it to Royai tumblr.

@firewoodfigs - Xingese squad!! Her prose is beautiful. So poetic and meaningful. And her poetry?? is gorgeous. Ownvoices Xingese Roy content 💚 Mostly FMA.

@lantur - wrote delicate. Go read it right now if you haven't (but also tw for parental abuse and older military officers taking advantage of mentally ill young women while they commit genocide together) Multifandom, fandoms are tagged.

@hanamuri / @royriza - literally the sweetest person and runs like 4 blogs which is iconic. Her psychoanalysis of FMA characters is super interesting. All FMA.

Other writers I love

I have a habit of reserving way too many books from the library meaning that I haven't gotten around to reading most fanfics yet, oops. That's on me.

@ta1k-less - I adore her writing style!! Fun fact, one of her atla fics was probably the first multichap fic I had finished in roughly five years. She's very funny. Love how she fleshes out Ishvalan culture. Also draws sometimes and has started IDing her own art. Mostly FMA, multifandoms, tags fandoms.

@edisacornball - boomer he knows Edward very well, if that makes sense. Like, reading his fics I can tell that he understands Edward as a character very well. His Edwin fics are great. Has been in the FMA fandom for 15 years or something, which is crazy to me. Multifandom, mostly FMA.

@calangkoh - metas count as writing. So not a fic writer, but their 03 metas are wonderful. Obvious spoilers for 03 if you haven't seen it yet. Sideblog, all FMA.

Well fuck, now I'm realizing that I haven't gotten around to reading any fics from the vast majority of the writers I follow. Y'all are such lovely people sorry I still need to read your fics!! I gotta update this list once I get my act together and clean up my AO3 marked for later list, lol.

[primasveraas-writing]

“Kent v The Shitty Knee Itself”- Ted Lasso

A sort-of-sequel to "Kent v Linebacker," but this can still be read on its own. Part 2 of 3 of my fics about Roy Kent's shitty knee.

Part 1 // Accompanying AU

WORDS: 1649

XXX

Roy Kent is old as shit.

His daughter is a fucking toddler. His son is in preschool.

And he has fucking arthritis.

“What the fuck do you mean I’ve got fucking arthritis?” Roy Kent explodes at the doctor, who waits patiently for his outburst to finish. “I’m in my fucking forties! I’ve got two fucking babies at home! What the fuck am I supposed to do when my fucking daughter needs to piss and we’re all sprinting into the bathroom? I can’t fucking potty train on a shit leg.”

His wife rubs his shoulders comfortingly; the news is less surprising to Keeley, who gave a damn when the doctors mentioned arthritis could develop, and who is also extremely endeared by her husband’s priorities, which apparently lie very firmly with teaching their daughter to pee in the toilet.

Roy shouldn’t be shocked either; he’s had a limp for a long time now, and progressively worsening pain. He’s been elevating his leg whenever possible, to the point where Ted pulls chairs up for him or sits down first so Roy doesn’t feel awkward (on good days, Roy scowls at Ted and stays standing, but these occurrences are increasingly few and far between). It’s been a long time coming, and as much as the great Roy Kent hates to admit weakness, his shit knee is getting shittier.

Keeley had forced him to go to the doctor when Roy scooped up both their children, one in each arm, and proceeded to fall on the floor in a heap of small limbs and curses. He again made the case that he was fine, but there’s a limit on how much Tylenol one person can take in a day, and Roy’s exceeded that limit for weeks.

He walks like he’s on a hill, wobbling as he drags his right leg behind him. Keeley remarks on how uneven his gait is, and Lily, his precious fucking baby, demonstrates just how wonky Roy is by limping around too. It makes him laugh, but then his gaze meets Keeley’s, and he realizes there’s not much he can do aside from accept his fate and ask Dr. Patel why his knee is failing him (again, the fucking thing).

Arthritis. Fucking hell.

“The majority of your symptoms can be mitigated by limiting any strain on your leg. This includes walking, lifting, twisting, standing, stairs-”

“-breathing, blinking, fucking doing any shit worthwhile-”

“We can also prescribe medication, but given the amount of pain you reported, I think the best option to look at is a walking assistant.”

“What, like a cane?” Roy snorts. He feels Keeley still behind him, then he looks up at Dr. Patel, who’s gazing back at him, entirely serious.

“A fucking cane.”

“It’ll alleviate the weight on your leg. Ideally, you won’t need it every day, but it’ll make a difference when discomfort gets too high.”

“Fuck no.” Keeley squeezes his shoulder. “Fine. Fucking hell.”

-

It’s an adjustment. Roy walks back to their car, cane-less for the time being, limping, and imagines a cane in his hand. Imagines being able to straighten up, and not going to bed in fucking agony after a long day.

He also imagines showing up to the football club with a cane in his hand and Jaime fucking Tartt the fucking muppet smirking at him with his stupid fucking face, and he wants to turn around and tell Dr. Patel he’ll never use a fucking cane in his fucking life. Then he imagines having a stick to beat Jaime with when he’s being a prick, and Roy grins to himself at the thought.

That’s what he tells Keeley on the way home: he’s on the fence. That there’s a stigma he doesn’t want, that he remembers this the pitiful looks he received after his first injury and after surgery. It’s fucking bullshit, that he’d be looked at differently just because of a fucking rod in his hand, or because his stupid knee is fucked.

“Since when does Roy Kent care about what other people think of him? I mean really,” Keeley tells him, patting his thigh. “Everyone decent won’t bat an eye, and anyone who does is a prat.” She shrugs. “It’s a flawless system, really. Good way to sort people out.”

Roy grunts in agreement and drums his fingers on the door. He sighs, leaning his head back.

“What if I can’t keep up with Lily and Ollie? What the fuck am I supposed to do with little kids?”

“We’ll adapt,” Keeley promises, offering her hand. Roy takes it and presses it to his lips. “They already know they can’t run from you, or bowl into you at full speed-” Roy snorts at this. “-so now we tell ‘em that they gotta be patient.”

“They’re gonna be the most patient kids on the planet,” Roy muses, but his chest feels lighter. His wife is fucking amazing.

“They’re fucking perfect, they are. And besides- they don’t love you cause you can lift them or up throw them around or run around after them.” She squeezes his hand. “They love you ‘cause you’re you, Roy. You’re their dad.”

Roy nods silently. She’s right, as always. His heart is warm, much lighter against his ribs. “Thanks, babe,” he tells her, and Keeley beams at him.

-

They adapt. Roy remains in awe of the resilience of children- Lily and Oliver don’t give a damn that he uses a cane, except they quickly have to delineate that it’s not a toy, so Oliver doesn’t hit anyone with it, and so that Lily doesn’t hit Oliver with it. Because of this, Roy has to be careful not to threaten anyone at Richmond with his cane while his children are around. One day, his kids will learn to do as their dad says, not as he does, but for now, his babies swear and scowl, and pick up on every bad habit Roy shows them. It’s fucking adorable.

The first month is the hardest. Roy and Keeley decide to grant him some grace- he doesn’t have to do shit like garden or mow the lawn, or anything too strenuous. It’s uneven, in the beginning, and Roy goes to bed every night feeling like a shit husband for everything that’s unloaded on Keeley. They fight about it, eventually, and Roy apologizes to Keeley with tears in his eyes. They find a balance, which involves a chair in every room in their house and somebody hired to do the lawn. Their roles have shifted, but it’s a pattern he’s familiar with by now. He’s gone through so many major changes with Keeley: switching careers and marriage and injury and parenthood twice over. And using a cane isn’t any harder than having a newborn and a toddler, so they manage. After all, they’re unstoppable together.

Nobody on the team makes a comment on the cane, except Ted leaves sticky notes on it whenever Roy isn’t paying attention, and Roy wouldn’t mind so much if they weren’t positive fucking affirmations, the corny twat. Then the rest of the team follows suit, and they sign it and put stickers on it and all sorts of supportive shit, and Roy tells only one person this, but he kind of fucking likes it (against his better judgment, of course).

Commentators and the press are not nearly as kind. There’s any number of articles written about him and how old it makes the football world seem. Roy wants to fucking kill all of them, but Keeley reminds him that all the pricks have shown their true colors, and one day he finds a picture of a particularly insensitive reporter that has been utterly defiled and left out in the locker room. Roy tucks this away in a drawer in his office, and he’s almost nicer at practice that day.

Beard and Ted match his slower pace as they walk out to every match, which isn’t subtle even from the offset, but they don’t say anything about it and neither does Roy. He also realizes that he’s never the only one sitting in a group of his friends, even if it’s just him and Ted, or Keeley, or Rebecca, or Nate.

Yoga gets much harder, then he and the yoga moms spend a night researching yoga for people with shit legs, and yoga gets easier again. If they want to do a challenge night, Roy shifts into the role of yoga instructor, which he’s fucking great at, thank you, and so what if he gets to drink more wine because of it.

And his fucking knee feels better. His medication works, but the cane helps the most. Ted and Keeley had told him ever since his initial injury to be kind to himself, to rest when needed, and to not be a stupid stubborn prick about his health. This mindset turns out to have a few merits, and maybe it’s even a good habit he can teach his kids.

It says a lot about him, this cane that accompanies a man in his forties. He needs it because he was a professional footballer who injured himself preventing a goal in one last game. Who needed surgery cause his energetic maniac of a son ran into him. Whose wife told him to use it with pride, because he’s Roy fucking Kent and his family and friends love him so screw everyone else. Whose coach used it as a tool to force positivity onto Roy, whose team and kids decorated it with messages of love and smiley faces and the two worst signatures he’s ever seen (though he credits Oliver and Lily for trying). It’s a symbol of persistence, of the pain he’s endured, of those who rallied behind him.

Roy Kent. Married to Keeley Jones. Father of Oliver and Lily. Coach at Richmond AFC.

And he happens to use a cane.

[wickedmilo]

SORRY, BAD NIGHT | MILO, BEX & MINA

PLACE: Bex and Mina’s house TIMING: 4:12 AM SUMMARY: After the cemetery with Metzli, Milo turns to Bex for help with his injuries WRITING PARTNER: @inbextween @drowningisinevitable​ CONTENT WARNINGS: Addiction tw, alcohol tw, medical blood tw, needles tw

Milo wasn’t in the greatest of moods, but the alcohol in his system was allowing him to repress the frustration, and pain that would otherwise cause him to spiral. Hiding his injury he had managed to pick up a fresh can of beer, and two cigarettes later he had very nearly reached his destination. With Harsh currently working a night shift, and his parents entirely unaware of his vampirism, he wasn’t sure where else he was supposed to go. It could probably wait until morning, but he wasn’t exactly sober, and sitting alone with his thoughts didn’t sound like his idea of a good time. Besides, he would rather deal with the issue now, while his pain receptors were out of action, and Bex seemed like the perfect person to ask for help. She always understood him, and over the course of the past few weeks they had grown far closer than he ever expected to. He had only ever seen her house from the outside, though he had no problem finding it again. Whether or not she was home, whether or not she would even be willing to invite him in, was another issue. She always assured him he didn’t make her uncomfortable, but part of him worried she was only telling him that so he wouldn’t feel hurt. The way she had first looked at him upon realising he drank human blood was permanently burned into his memory. He never wanted to see her look at him that way again. 

Taking a long drink from his can, he stumbled awkwardly up the path to her front door, silently hoping she was already awake. Appearing outside of her house in need of medical attention was definitely bad enough, waking her up would only make him feel more guilty. Reaching out, he hesitantly pressed the doorbell, hearing it echo on the other side of the door. “Uh, Bex?” He called, his voice only a little slurred. “It’s Milo!” Finishing what was left of his drink, he balanced it near the entryway, just out of sight, forgetting about it almost the moment he set it down. “Bex?” He shouted again, seeing a light flicker on in the window of a house directly opposite. “Shit.” He muttered, knowing better than to say anything more. The last thing he wanted was to draw unwanted attention, and he was certain Bex felt the same way about her place of residence. Slipping his phone from his pocket, he carefully typed out a text, hitting send before taking a step backwards, looking up at the house looming over him.  

Sory, bad night. Are yu awake? 

I mightbe outside

Sleep was still hard to come by. Bex had assured Mina she was working on it, on sleeping more, but really, how was she supposed to when there was so much going on in her head? Dreams of her mother, of memories that weren’t her own, of Roy, of Mina dying. And sometimes, now, the worst dream was when her mother was replaced with Mina, and Bex’s hands were the things killing her. Those were the ones she woke up in a cold sweat from, and instead of checking Mina’s pulse, she’d scoot away and hold her hands close to her chest, afraid they might leak magic and reach out and hurt the girl she loved. That one day, they might be what gets Mina killed. 

Sleep tonight was no different. She had slipped from the bed-- and she knew Mina was awake, and she was sure Mina knew she knew-- and gone downstairs to make herself a cup of tea silently. That’s when the loud knocking and voice sounded from the doorway, causing her to jump a little, nearly dropping the cup as tea sloshed out everywhere. “Fuck…” she muttered, fumbling with the mess, reaching for a paper towel to soak up the liquid before it dumped onto the floor. “Fuck, hold on--” she called, but she didn’t want to be too loud, and alert everyone in the house. She was already heading towards the door when the texts came in, so when she opened it to see Milo, she was only mildly surprised. The blood was concerning. Very concerning. “What happened?” she gawked, reaching for him. “Come on, come inside. Before someone else notices.” She pulled him through the door and shut it as quietly as possible, smelling the alcohol and smoke on his breath, soaked into his clothes. He clearly wasn’t okay, but who was she to judge? Sometimes the bottom of the bottle was her only comfort, too. She’d considered it tonight, instead of tea, but decided against it, if only because her stomach still churned at the thoughts of Mina’s eviscerated body.  

“Sit,” she demanded, pushing him towards the couch before rushing into the kitchen to grab the first aid kit. Did vampires need first aid? Well, she’d find out. “Tell me what happened? Are you in danger right now?” 

Milo felt a wave of relief wash over him when he heard the sound of Bex’s voice. It was soft, almost a stage whisper, but it still managed to reach him and fill him with a familiar sense of comfort. At least he was safe now, with somebody who wouldn’t let anything happen to him. Listening to her footsteps, he offered her a tired smile when she finally opened the door. “Oh-” For a brief moment he had forgotten the reason for his visit, but her question soon brought him back down to Earth. Glancing at his ruined sleeve, he wrinkled his nose as his blood glistened, black, and congealed in the light of the moon. “A hunter, I think… or slayer. I never know what to call them.” Waiting to be invited inside, he hurried to cross the threshold the moment he was able to, leaning heavily against the wall as Bex quietly closed the door behind him. “It’s not bad,” he assured her. “I just- ‘m fine. I’m okay.” Allowing himself to be pulled towards a couch, he had time on the short journey to take in just how big the house was, and wondered how many people currently lived in it. He was only just realising they had never discussed her living situation before.  

“Okay, okay, I’m sitting…” He fell back against the cushions, watching as she disappeared, only to return with a first aid kit. His smile growing at her level of concern, he wanted to tell her how much he appreciated her, but refused to give away just how drunk he was. So he waited for her to settle before answering her questions. “I was with Metzli… some asshole came at us with… jeez, with wooden arrows. I mean what century is this?” Carefully shrugging out of his hoodie, he peeled the sleeve away from his arm, staring at his skin where the blood was beginning to coat it. “I mean, it’s deep, but it’s not bad… y’know?” He wasn’t sure he was making very much sense, but hopefully his confidence would assure Bex he wasn’t about to bleed out. With no heartbeat the blood wasn’t drawn to the site of the wound, and it definitely wasn’t actively trying to escape his body. That didn’t mean he could leave the laceration open, he had a strong suspicion he might need stitches. Or tacking, at the very least. “No danger now, no… Metzli-” He broke off, a frown creasing his brow as he remembered what had happened. He could still see them, still see the way they had kicked the hunter’s head, the way they had been more than willing to abandon the unconscious body. No empathy, no concern. Just a cold, unfeeling self preservation. “No… no danger.” 

Bex sighed. “I think either is correct,” she answered, and she felt herself bristling again. Of course it was a hunter. Of course it was someone who thought they could just go around hurting people who weren’t doing anything to hurt anyone, just because they weren’t human. She felt the anger prickle in her arms, her hands, and she took a moment to collect herself, and push the magic that was trying to come out back inside to a simmer. Like Mina had said, she couldn’t just go after everyone who hurt the people she cared about. But it was so hard to do nothing, not when she could do something. She swallowed the thought. “You were with Metzli?” Bex hadn’t seen them since the kerashag incident, and their last messages had been filled with anger and hurt. She was supposed to go see them the next night, but right now, focusing on Milo was more important. “Did they get hurt? What happened to the slayer?” If Metzli had killed them, she didn’t think she’d mind. And she hated that thought She ducked her head, grabbing a gauze pad from the first aid kit and soaking it in the rubbing alcohol. “This...might hurt? I don’t know your pain tolerance. Zombies don’t feel anything, really, that’s my only scale.”  

She reached out and dabbed the wound, finding the black, congealed blood rather thick and hard to wipe away. She sighed and sat back. She’d need something stronger than a gauze pad to wipe it away, it was just getting caught and sticking to her fingers. “I’m gonna go get a rag, I’ll be right back,” she said, standing back up and glancing over her shoulder to the stairs, before she went back into the kitchen and to the hallway. It didn’t sound like anyone else was up, and she wet the rag before heading back in.  

Milo nodded, still annoyed by the way Metzli had brushed him off. “I was.” He agreed, his expression softening again when Bex asked if they had been hurt. “I guess.” He shifted awkwardly on the couch. He couldn’t help feeling partially responsible. If he hadn’t encouraged them to drink, if he hadn’t laughed at the situation, was it possible Metzli might have taken it more seriously? “A couple of arrows… I tried to help them but they got mad- something about me telling them what they already knew. They stormed off and I just… I let them leave.” Maybe he should have chased after them, there were so many maybes. “The slayer…” He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment before deciding to be honest. Bex had probably heard worse, as much as he hated that thought. “Metzli kicked them in the head, they blacked out… they were okay, they’ll be okay. I checked their vitals but… I don’t know, it didn’t feel good, leaving someone like that.” Even someone who had tried to kill him. Mentally preparing himself for the pain, he was grateful for the warning as Bex held up a bundle of gauze. “They don’t?” He asked, curious to know more about zombies. “I do… It’s just harder to do any damage, the pain is still there.” Wincing the moment the rubbing alcohol made contact with the gash in his arm, it stung but nowhere near as badly as he was expecting it to. He supposed he had his state of intoxication to thank for that.  

Only feeling a vague tugging sensation, along with a few jolts of a dull ache, he realised at the same time as Bex did that the gauze wasn’t going to be strong enough. A breathless laugh escaping him, he hesitantly caught her eye. “I told you it was gross, huh…” He said, calling back to their text messages, the first time he had ever tried to explain his blood to her. “Okay.” He murmured, leaning back further into the couch cushions, attempting to get comfortable as she headed back into the kitchen. He noticed her glancing around as though worried she might wake somebody up, and wondered not for the first time who might be sleeping upstairs. He took a deep, experimental breath, trying to recognise any of the scents lingering on the furniture. He recognised Mina’s almost immediately, but he wasn’t surprised considering she was dating Bex. There were two other scents he recognised. Deirdre, who had an attitude to match his own. And Morgan. Morgan Beck. “Hey, uh… you don’t know Morgan Beck, do you?” He asked, as Bex reappeared in the doorway. “She isn’t like… here, is she?”  

It wasn’t uncommon for Bex to wake Mina up in the middle of the night, or vice versa. Or, more often than not, they were both already awake and just trying to sleep. It was more comfortable for Mina to just stay in bed with Bex, most of the time. She was trying not to go for as many runs in the middle of the night. She was trying to be better, more settled. So she didn’t get up immediately when Bex did, instead waiting a few minutes before she got up and headed to the bathroom, splashing soothing water on her face, her arms. Scales appeared, but she didn’t immediately send them away. She was in the comfort of her own home, surrounded by people that she cared about, and she could show off the scales and wear tanktops and shorts and feel safe. She felt safe. Sometimes, she didn’t quite know what to do with feeling safe. 

Hearing voices from downstairs, Mina wondered if Bex was talking to Morgan or Deirdre and decided to head that way. She headed to the stairs and walked down, rubbing at her eyes, feeling tired even if she was unable to sleep. “Bex?” she asked as she reached the bottom of the steps and looked into the sitting room. “Mor--” But it wasn’t Morgan that was sitting on the sofa, and all Mina could do was blink at Milo from the last step, taking in the dark blood and wounds covering him. Dark blood. Oh. Oh. Well, that made sense, didn’t it? Because he only wanted to meet to play piano at night, and she’d never even thought to see him during the day. And he was friends with Bex. Because of course he was friends with Bex. Somehow, someway, Mina’s girlfriend was a vampire magnet. 

“Sounds like Metzli,” Bex mumbled to herself. But as she reentered the room, everything else she had been planning to say-- like, “No, you did the right thing. If they’re angry, let them go.” or “You were more than kind to check on that slayer. They’ll probably be okay.”-- fell to the wayside, because Mina was standing at the bottom of the stairs, staring at Milo, and Milo’s wounds, and Milo’s black blood. This probably wasn’t at all how Milo had wanted Mina to find out he was a vampire, but Bex’s eyes stuck to the scales on Mina’s arms and wondered if she should say something. This probably wasn’t how Mina would have wanted Milo to find out about her, and now Bex was stuck in the middle, wavering between the injured vampire, and her scaley girlfriend who looked perhaps a bit disgruntled. Probably because there was a vampire in the living room.  

Clearing her throat, Bex continued her way over to Milo, glancing at Mina. “He needed help,” was all she could think to say, “he was attacked by a slayer.” Before she kneeled in front of him and pressed the wet cloth to his wound, wiping away some of the blood. She turned her attention back to Milo. “Uh, yes, I do. This uh--” her glance went back to Mina before it returned to Milo, “this is her house, actually. I live with her and her partner.”  

Milo heard Mina’s footsteps before he heard her voice, but it was only when she spoke that he realised exactly who had made her way downstairs. He wasn’t exactly surprised, but he definitely hadn’t been expecting her to make an appearance. Even drunk, he was able to understand the current state of him would give away what he was. But he didn’t mind. He had been planning to tell her eventually, and Bex had assured him she was familiar with the supernatural. He heard Bex quietly explain the situation, and if there was any doubt in Mina’s mind it would definitely be chased away by the use of the word slayer. Turning in his seat, he offered Mina a smile as he laid eyes on her, quickly noticing the strange scales on her skin. She had always smelled a little different, but he had put it down to perfume, or washing powder, anything that could create a lasting scent. Now, he was wondering whether he had been oblivious to something that really should have been obvious. “Mina?” He asked, watching her carefully. “I… you aren’t human either?” There was something amusing about the idea of two supernatural creatures assuming the other was human. How many hours had they spent together, holed up in the uni’s little piano room. And neither of them had noticed? Neither of them had realised? He could act shocked, or confused, but was there really any point? White Crest was full of people who weren’t human. Even Bex was a spellcaster. So he laughed quietly, moving again as Bex made her way back over to where he was sitting.  

“You don’t need to make it sound like I’m dying.” He murmured good naturedly, holding his arm out so that she could begin brushing at the dried blood with a damp cloth. His smile slipping temporarily as Bex answered his question on Morgan, he could only hope she wasn’t hiding upstairs. Even if the idea of irritating her was enjoyable, he didn’t know if he had the energy to deal with her incessant lectures. “Jeez, you invited me into Morgan Beck’s house?” Another laugh escaped him before he could stop it, but it turned into a quiet hiss as pain shot through his arm. “Ow,” he complained, before moving the subject back to his old professor. “You know she hates me, right?” He asked, certain he wasn’t exaggerating. “And you let me into her house, she’s actually going to murder you.”  

All Mina could do as she looked at Milo was blink, trying to process his words, and Bex’s words, and just what, exactly, was happening. He’d been attacked by a slayer, and, oh, that upset her. And not in the way it used to. It was similar to the way she’d felt when a slayer had attacked Morgan, albeit maybe not as strong. It wasn’t an “I hate that the monster escaped” kind of feeling and more of an “I’m upset that my friend was hurt” kind of feeling. She was friends with a vampire. And a zombie. And other Fae. A werewolf. Sometimes, all of that was hard to wrap her head around. And then she looked at her arms. Right. Scales. She could have made them disappear immediately, could have tried to cover it up and hide, but, really, what was the point? Milo was just an injured vampire bleeding on their sofa. Milo was just a boy that she’d played piano with countless times now, who had kept her company when she couldn’t sleep and when running led her towards music instead of the forest. She shrugged. “I’m not, no.” And that was that. 

She walked further into the living room and moved beside Bex, looking over Milo’s wounds with a practiced eye. She’d never treated undead wounds before; Morgan never needed it, and she’d never been around an injured vampire. The blood was darker and thicker, but she imagined it was treated the same. He likely healed faster than her. It might just be slow going without blood in his system. “Do you need any help?” she asked Bex. As the conversation shifted to Morgan, Mina could only raise an eyebrow. “What could you have possibly done to make Morgan hate you? She doesn’t really hate anyone?”

Bex let the two of the figure out each other in silence, and she couldn’t help but feel a little bit proud when Mina didn’t make her scales disappear. That meant she was getting more comfortable with them, right? Bex hoped so. She loved Mina and she, admittedly, loved her scales. They were such a pretty silvery-blue, and sometimes they would sparkle just right in the sunlight when they were out in the pool together, and Mina would look kind of like an ethereal angel. When Bex realized she was staring and hadn’t moved in a moment, she blinked and turned her head away, focusing back on Milo. “Uh, can you get some supplies out to bandage the wound once I’m done cleaning it? I...don’t know how fast vampires heal, but at least this way it’ll stop bleeding. Or...gushing.”  

She looked up at Milo again, then to Mina, then to the stairs-- down that hallway was Morgan’s bedroom. “She doesn’t hate you. And she won’t be mad. She understands that it’s just me trying to help my friend. And even if she did hate you, I don’t think she’d turn away anyone who was hurt and needed help. That's the kind of person she is. She...saved me. I owe her everything I have right now.” It was a simple sentence to say, but the weight it held was inside of Bex’s heart and it clung to her and reminded her every day that she was loved and she was cared for, and she had someone in her life who would always help her, no matter what. She could have someone who was what a mother was supposed to be. Bex folded the rag over so that the blood was inside and reached up to wipe at his face. “You’re a mess. Clean your face off and I’ll get you some water.” She wondered if maybe Milo needed blood to help him heal, but there was no way Mina would let her offer her own. And she wasn’t sure Morgan kept blood around, only brains. “Do you need anything else?” 

Milo appreciated the simplicity of Mina’s answer, and though he was curious to know more, he held his tongue, accepting the fact that she was willing to admit she wasn’t human. That was enough for now. No doubt the rest would come with time, and trust. He nodded quietly in response, offering her a smile as she moved to stand beside Bex. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes as he remembered his last conversation with Morgan, he exhaled a breath, his shoulders dropping. “It’s a long story.” He admitted, deciding now wasn’t the right time to tell it. For all he knew, he could be halfway through complaining about her attitude only to look up and find her standing in the doorway. Or he could say something to upset Bex, and Mina who were clearly close enough with Morgan to share a house with her. That was the last thing he wanted to do after disturbing them so late at night. Turning his attention back to Bex, he glanced back down at his arm again. “Pretty fast…” He admitted. “It’s like… you have to treat an injury in the same way a human would, but the healing is faster. I think I might need some stitches, but after that… y’know… I’ll be fine.”  

His smile fading as the conversation turned back to Morgan, he wanted to tell Bex that Morgan’s saviour complex was exactly the problem. But even drunk, he knew better. He wasn’t about to hurt her like that after everything she had done for him. Whatever was happening between himself and Morgan could quite easily stay between them. And the way Bex spoke about her, the genuine love, and affection in her voice, almost, almost had him questioning his opinion on the zombie. “Wait- I am?” He asked, surprised by Bex telling him he was a mess. It made sense. After falling from a tombstone, and tackling the hunter he was probably covered in mud, and a few lesser scrapes. But he hadn’t considered that fact until now. Taking the cloth he began to scrub at his face with his good arm, pulling it away to see just how much dirt had stained the material. Taking a moment to contemplate Bex’s following question, he pushed his glasses further up his nose, and ran his fingers through his tousled hair. He knew what she was really asking, but he wasn’t thirsty. They were both aware he had a habit of overindulging, so he very rarely found himself desperate for blood. And there were blood bags waiting for him at home that would help to speed up the healing process. So he grinned instead, doing his best to utilise his charm. “Maybe a beer?” He tried. “If you have one?”  

Mina would have asked about the long story if she was more curious, but this wasn’t the time or place. Milo was intoxicated and injured and likely not in any sort of state to be telling them just why it was that he thought Morgan hated him. Though, there really weren’t that many people out there that Mina was aware of Morgan hating. It didn’t seem likely. She nodded to Bex and gathered up the supplies, pulling everything out that would be needed. “I can do the stitches,” she said, quietly. “I’ve done them plenty of times on people that heal fast.” Both herself and other hunters. She was sure, though, that vampires still healed faster than both of them. But Mina stopped seeing him as a vampire and only allowed herself to see his injuries so that she could focus, taking in the wounds and figuring out how best to treat him. The deepest sections would absolutely need stitches, but the rest of it could probably be simply cleaned and bandaged. No point in stitching something up when they were just going to come out quickly. 

“You’re a little messy, yes,” she added, finally seeing all the mud and blood on him. And how many times had she come home looking like that? Less so, recently, since she’d been trying not to worry people so much, but still. Long ago, something very similar to this would have been routine: walk in, treat injuries, help others, rest. Repeat. And repeat. And repeat. Add in hunting. Substitute hunting with Mina just standing there, turning away. Repeat. Repeat as necessary. She blinked it away, raised an eyebrow at Milo, at that easy grin of his as he asked for a beer. “You smell like a brewery.”

Bex didn’t know what “long story” meant, but she wasn’t about to ask about it, and neither did Mina. Whatever happened between Morgan and Milo to make her supposedly hate them could stay with them until either of them were ready to tell the story. She exhaled slowly, moving away from the worst wound so that Mina could asses it and start the stitches. She picked up some more rubbing alcohol and cotton pads, moving to work at dabbing the smaller cuts on his other arm and face. “You are. You look like you rolled down a hill made of mud.” They were all talking so casually, but the thought of a hunter, a slayer, going after two people Bex cared about made her arms buzz. She itched-- ached-- to do something about them. She could easily do something about them, like she had done so with the first warden that went after Mina, and like she had tried to do with Roy. But her magic still sat sour in her stomach, still recovering from the shock of the destroyed spell.  

Bex furrowed her brow. She remembered what Milo had said when he’d gotten drunk with her in the park, that he didn’t need people judging him, that if he wanted to do it this way, then who was anyone to tell him no? “Sorry, I don’t think we have any. Morgan and Deirdre aren’t big beer drinkers.” It was enough of an excuse, and mostly the truth. They had other alcohol, but she wasn’t going to mention that. She got the glass of water instead and came back to sit next to him on the couch, holding it out. “What were you guys doing in the cemetery, anyway?” 

“I guess I probably don’t want to know why you’re so good with stitches, huh?” Milo asked Mina, smiling sheepishly when she agreed with Bex. He had never been particularly vain, and he couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed, or offended. Not after everything he had suffered through. His appearance meant very little to him, especially when he was under the influence, so he gave up on the effort to tame his hair, allowing a laugh to escape him at the mention of smelling like a brewery. “Guilty.” He agreed, shrugging off the comment. “But what’s a brewery without beer?” His eyes were shining, despite suspecting Mina might be avoiding his question in a bid to keep him from drinking himself into a stupor. Glancing back at Bex, his smile stayed in place as she commented on his current state. He wondered whether she was exaggerating. The cemetery felt like eons ago. The fear, and the adrenaline had long since faded away. He wasn’t about to pull out his phone’s front camera to check, and he could always shower when he got home. “I mean, I kind of did…” Technically he fell from a tombstone, and tackled a hunter to the ground, but the details felt unimportant in the safety of Morgan’s house.  

Attempting to hide his disappointment when the one person he felt sure wouldn’t have an issue with letting him continue to drink denied him another beer, he tried to work out the probability of there being alcohol of any kind in the house. He didn’t see why it should be kept from him. He was fine. More than fine. There was no harm in having a little fun, especially after such a tiring night. “You don’t have anything else?” He asked, taking the water and staring down at the glass. He left fingerprints against the crystal, only realising as he stared at them that his skin was still marked by dirt, and dried blood. “It’s just- this kind of hurts, it would be nice to have something to… y’know- take the edge off…” The lie fell easily from his lips, he was far too used to finding an angle. Knowing what to say, and how to say it. He faltered, making it seem as though he was embarrassed to admit he was in pain, when in reality, he had faced far worse. “Oh, we thought it would be funny.” His smile only grew, he was still undeniably amused by the irony. “Two vampires in a cemetery… can’t say the ghosts were very glad of the company though…”  

“Probably not,” Mina said quietly as she set to work, her fingers quick and sure as she started the sutures. The black blood still occasionally coming out of Milo’s wounds barely even stung, and she wiped away at it with the tips of her fingers. She was mostly worried about getting this done as fast as possible; without anything to dull the pain, it wouldn’t do to linger and draw it out. “Keep very still, please.” That was important, too. So was distraction from the pain, a trick that was hard to do when working on herself. When she first started tending to her own wounds, Mina would sing to herself. Now, focused on keeping up the conversation that Bex and Milo were having. As long as he remained distracted, it shouldn’t hurt as bad. 

“We really don’t have any beer,” Mina said. “And I can’t lie. I’d have to tell you if we had any.” Not… exactly true, but it was true enough. There was no beer in the house. There was wine and stronger liquors, but no beer. The only beers that Mina had ever kept were the German ones that were still in her fridge at her little house next to the lake. “The pain shouldn’t last.” And, for a moment, she thought about offering Milo her blood. Fae blood was known for being sweet and addictive, and one of the better qualities of it was that it “took the edge off.” She’d been used to lure out vampires with her blood before. What was helping out a friend? But Mina had also been upset with Bex offering up her blood, so that was just an all around bad idea. “How quickly do vampires heal, anyway? I think I heal about twice as fast as a human, under certain conditions.”

Bex sighed. She remembered how much she would’ve liked something to “take the edge off” when she’d been half-dead in that cabin with Mina and the only thing there was an old bottle of what was probably homemade moonshine. And she wasn’t really one to judge Milo, was she? Plus, they were safe in the house. They weren’t away in the cemetery or lost somewhere or in a park. It was safe, right? As Mina started in on the stitches, she stood back up. “I’ll be right back,” she said, standing back up and heading into the other room. All the wine was kept downstairs in the cellar, but she knew where the liquor cabinet was, and she grabbed the cheapest looking bottle of vodka before making her way back. Cracked it open and took a sip before holding it out to Milo. “What do you mean ‘kind of did/? What happened? I thought you were just attacked by a slayer. Did Metzli do something to you?”  

Bex didn’t look at Mina for a moment, watching Milo carefully before sitting back on her hands. Her eyes glanced back towards the stairs-- if Morgan came down, what would she think? Was Bex doing the wrong thing here? She bit her lip, she had to believe otherwise. All she wanted to do was help people, but, lately, it felt as if everything she did was the wrong thing. Her chest even still ached from her spell backfiring the other night. “Maybe you should chill on the hanging out in cemeteries for a bit? Even for the joke. Just, uh-- until you know the situation with that slayer.” And she was worried and she was tired and she wondered if she should offer to go check on him for Milo. “I-- could go see if he’s still there, if you want? Take him somewhere safe, if he is?” 

Biting down on his bottom lip as Mina began to apply his stitches, Milo distracted himself from the discomfort by watching her focus. Now that he knew she wasn’t human it felt so obvious, not just in her scent, but in the way she looked. So ethereal and undeniably beautiful, he could understand why Bex wanted to be with her. Even now, after being woken up in the middle of the night to find out one of her friends not only needed medical attention, but wasn’t human either, she was soft, and gentle. Quietly sincere in her care for him. Forcing himself to stay still, repressing the desire to pull away from the needle, he exhaled a slow breath through his teeth. “Yeah, whatever…” He murmured, a frown creasing his brow. Why couldn’t she lie? He tried to run through the list of supernatural creatures in his head, despite knowing it was severely lacking. Maybe he didn’t know what she was, maybe she was something new. “It won’t…” He admitted, wanting to assure her. Waiting until she was pulling the thread taut, he shifted slightly, offering a one armed shrug. “It depends really… on how much blood I drink, and how bad I hurt myself. If I drink a lot and the injury is minor then it can disappear in, like… fifteen minutes? This one will probably take a couple of days.”  

Glancing up at Bex, watching her as she left the room, he felt a spark of hope, followed by a wave of genuine gratitude. He grinned easily as she reappeared, accepting the bottle of vodka, not missing the way she took a drink herself before handing it over to him. “No, Metzli didn’t do anything to me.” He laughed, unable to help himself. It definitely wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility. “I fell from one of those tombstones, you know the big ones- above ground? And then I had to get the hunter off of Metzli somehow because they insisted on encouraging whoever it was… but they didn’t do anything to me.” Taking a long drink of vodka, he paused to wipe his mouth on the back of his sleeve. “Yeah, no shit.” He answered, smiling to let his friend know he wasn’t upset by her comment. “I stand by it being funny though. You know it is...” His smile fading suddenly as he processed her following words, as he understood what she was offering, the danger she was willing to put herself in, he shook his head, desperate to keep her away from any violence. Bex was working to keep him safe, the least he could do was keep her safe in return. “No, I mean… they’ll be okay, they were stirring as I left. I- you would really do that?”

“Fifteen minutes?” Mina asked, genuinely curious. She cut the string, the worst of the scratches stitched together. Fifteen minutes was close to the almost instantaneous healing that she’d witnessed with zombies. She wondered, briefly, what it was about the undead that allowed them to heal so quickly when they didn’t even have heartbeats to pump blood through their body. It was a kind of curiosity that she never really allowed herself to experience. “A few days isn’t bad, though. Do you-- I mean, you have ways to get blood, right?” She’d never considered the thought that her friend would have to go out and hurt people in order to live. It was hard to imagine, to rectify her image of this gentle boy that liked to play piano and maybe over indulge in things just a little too much with monsters that she’d been taught to kill. Shadows that lurked in alleyways that burst into ash when they were destroyed for the greater good. But that wasn’t Milo. It wasn’t. 

Mina looked at Bex, then at Milo, and she couldn’t help but feel just a little exasperated at the whole situation. Frustrated, really, that other people that she was fond of were getting into situations that could get them hurt, especially so soon after Bex had confronted Roy. Of course Bex would offer to go do something. Mina hoped she knew that, if she tried anything, Mina was going with her. Instead, she told Milo, her voice light, “Hanging out in cemeteries would make you a horrible cliché, you know.” She relaxed as Milo said that there was no need for Bex to go back out there. There was no need. It’d be fine. Though, of the three of them, Bex would be the safest around a slayer. Still. She’d try to use her magic, Mina just knew it, and that wasn’t good so soon after she’d already hurt herself with it.

“Woah, fifteen minutes!?” Bex gasped, exasperated herself. “I don’t think my cuts even stop bleeding that fast. Jesus…” She ran a hand through her hair and shook her head. Life sure would be much easier if she had super healing, or even knew healing magic. But she didn’t and she wasn’t sure Nell could teach her that, so she let out a puff of air, furrowing her brow. “Well, at least there’s that. I would’ve had to kick their ass if they had.” Bex looked over at Mina, then, shrugging-- she knew she probably wasn’t happy with her for offering to go investigate, and would certainly demand to go with her if she did, but Bex didn’t really know what else to do in the situation. How could she not? How could she not want to do everything to make sure her friend was safe from a threat? She’d done the same with Mina, with Morgan, with anyone who threatened the happiness Bex had so painfully fought for. This town wanted to ruin it and she wasn’t going to let it. 

“Of course I would,” she answered simply, then, taking the bottle back and having another sip. Maybe it could make her tired enough to actually sleep, even as visions of blood and carnage still sat at the edges of her vision. Breath still hard to come by when she found herself panicked and woozy. “Besides, I’m just human, so they wouldn’t hurt me. And it’s not like they’d know I was friends with you.” She still hadn’t decided what she’d do if she did go find them. She supposed it depended on what they said. They had gone after not one, but two of Bex’s friends, and she felt her knuckles tightening on the table, looking away to clear her thoughts before she spoke again. “But if you think they’re okay, then, we can just focus on you. Did you want to stay here tonight, then? Or do you need to get home?” And why hadn’t Milo just gone home in the first place? Was his roommate out, or was his home not safe? She glanced between the two, though, wondering if the offer to let him stay here wasn’t the best idea. Still, she wasn’t about to throw him out. She’d deal with Morgan later, if she got upset. 

“Yeah, around fifteen…” Milo agreed, wincing as Mina cut the thread. It didn’t hurt as badly as he assumed it would, so he hesitantly glanced down to review her work. Honestly, his parents would be proud of her if only they could see it. Apparently she had a lot of skill. Catching her eye again, he smiled, needing her to know he was okay both physically, and in the context of sourcing blood. “I do. My roommate works in the hospital… though I should probably stop telling people that before I get him fired for stealing blood bags.” Laughing at himself, he took another drink, the vodka burning his throat in such a comforting way. “Maybe I was trying to be a horrible cliché.” He pointed out, his smile only growing as he remembered how much fun it had been. At least until a slayer had decided to interrupt the party. “But I get it, okay? No more cemeteries.” Nodding in response to Bex’s obvious surprise, he tugged his sleeve back down to hide his injury now that it was no longer an open wound. “Weird, right? I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it.” Letting his friend take the bottle back, he held her gaze as she insisted she would check on the slayer if he asked her to. It meant more to him than she would know. Reaching out, he wrapped his arms around her, gently pulling her towards him and into a hug. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he murmured his thanks, forcing himself to let her go after a minute or two. If he could, he would stay in her arms for the remainder of the evening. She, and he supposed Mina now too, really did make him feel as though nothing bad could ever happen to him again.  

“You shouldn’t be so quick to rush into shit like this.” He said, knowing he had no right to tell her what to do, but feeling the need to say the words all the same. “What if they do know you’re my friend? It’s a small town? Or what if they think you’re another vampire and shoot at you on sight?” Satisfied he had made a relatively decent case, he decided to drop the subject, turning to look at the nearest window. The drapes were shut, but he could see it was still dark outside. “I… I should probably go. Morgan wouldn’t want me here, and my roommate gets home around dawn.” If there was anything he could do to encourage the healing process then Harsh would be able to advise him. Home was probably the best place for him to be now that the worst was over. “Thank you though… for everything.” His gaze shifting between both of his friends, he let a few beats of silence pass before speaking again, allowing himself to fully process just how lucky he was. Some terrible things had happened to him, in fact they continued to happen to him. But without becoming a vampire, he wouldn’t have Bex and Mina. “I’m not just talking about tonight, although y’know… I guess showing up here was kind of a dick move.” 

“I think it’s better to be stealing blood bags from hospitals as opposed to the alternatives,” Mina said. And maybe she should be more concerned for the humans that needed the blood, but this was better than Milo going out and attacking people, right? This was so much better than that. She’d rather him do that than just about anything else. She rolled her eyes. “If you were trying to be a horrible cliché, then you’d be sleeping in a coffin. Right? That’s what vampires do on tv?” She wasn’t particularly sure, only remembering one scene from Carmilla that included a coffin and a lot of blood. She started packing up the medical supplies now that they were done, adding, “Those are pretty basic, so they won’t come out on their own. If you need them removed, just let me know.” 

Mina shot Bex a look before agreeing with Milo. “I think so, too, personally.” Then, to Bex, joking but serious, “At least put on decent shoes before you decide to pick fights with slayers in cemeteries. And allow me to grab a jacket.” Because if Bex was going to rush into this, then Mina was to, and she’d rather not do it with scaly arms exposed for the world. Not to mention that she’d like to grab a knife, just in case. But she didn’t think that going after slayers was on the agenda for the evening. She added to Milo, “They wouldn’t think that she’s a vampire. Slayers can sense the undead, so they’d be able to tell that she isn’t.” They also wouldn’t be able to tell what Mina was, which would be another reason for her to go. “Do you need someone to walk back with you? You’re still a little tipsy and wobbly. How far of a walk is it?” And she was looking him over for more injuries, just in case, even though she couldn’t see them. And then she was saying, quickly, “Don’t thank me. You don’t have to thank me.” Because it was important that he knew that. “Never thank me. Thank Bex.” She wasn’t unkind, but she wanted him to know. She needed him to know that, at the very least. “I think I’ve mentioned that before, actually.”

Bex thought back, for a moment, about what Metzli had told her about how they had solved their blood problem. Grimacing, she decided to keep that to herself. She was sure Mina would not approve, and Bex didn’t know how to tell her it was better than the alternative right now, too. Instead, she focused back on Milo, grabbing the bottle and taking one last drink before screwing the cap back on. With the injuries all patched up, there shouldn’t be a need to take the edge off anymore. And she didn’t want anyone to notice the missing amount, not that she thought they would, really. Or that anyone would get upset. This wasn’t her parents, after all. She was safe here. She let out a long sigh. “You so don’t wanna be a cliché,” she said, “then you’d have to sparkle and I think that might make you just a little too gay, if that’s possible.” She grinned, pleased with herself.  

She was immediately ruffled, though, by the look Mina gave her and the two of them insisting she was being hasty about this. “I never said I was going to go after him,” she shot back, frowning, “I just said I’d check on him. See if he was still there and okay. Milo said he was worried for him.” Folded her arms over her chest. Mina explained why he would know she wasn’t a vampire and Bex was reminded how easy it was for people to underestimate her. She certainly didn’t look dangerous or act dangerous or feel dangerous. But sometimes, she wondered if the magic inside of her was more dangerous than a hungry vampire. Her eyes met MIlo’s. “It wasn’t a dick move. I’m glad you knew you could come to me. I-- want to be that kind of friend for you.” Words failed her, though, when Milo reached out and hugged her. She stayed frozen, unsure of what to do. She didn’t hug or get hugged often, except by Mina. Really, Mina was the only person she allowed to touch her that much, even Morgan was limited. She cleared her throat when Milo pulled away and just nodded. “We--” her voice faltered, “”we can totally walk back with you.” Because if Mina wasn’t going to let Bex go alone, then she wasn’t going to let Mina go alone, either. Not with a crazed bugbear hunting her. 

“I mean they’re still donating blood, right? And it’s still potentially saving people… I consider it a grey area.” Milo teased, only half serious. If he was being honest he didn’t view his situation as any kind of moral, or ethical dilemma. Nobody was getting hurt, and people were always donating blood. A true victimless crime if there ever was one. Only if he and Harsh decided to deplete the hospital’s entire supply would he be able to see why it was problematic. “I wanted a coffin, my roommate said no.” He grinned, letting his company know he wasn’t being serious. He had joked on more than one occasion, and Harsh had always been quick to shut him down with an offhand comment and a roll of his eyes. But the idea of sleeping in a coffin, as trivial as it may seem in passing, made him uneasy. His memories of his death were hazy, but they were there, a constant reminder of how much he had suffered. A constant, physical reminder of that wouldn’t be healthy. “Jeez, a Twilight reference?” He wrinkled his nose at Bex, distracted from the medical talk. “I’m not drunk enough for Twilight references.” But he laughed regardless of his feigned distaste. Moving his legs so that Mina had better access to the table the medical supplies were laid out on, he hummed softly in response to her instruction. “Mom and Dad are doctors.” He explained. “I was practising stitches on orange peel as soon as I was old enough, I’ve just never actually had to give them to anybody, especially not myself…” He was confident he could remove them well, and if not Harsh would always be there to help him. “I’ll manage…”  

Although he was glad to hear Mina agree with him, he couldn’t say he approved of her keeping Bex company. He would much rather the both of them stay at home, safe, and comfortable, and hidden away, than chase after a hunter who was probably long gone. “I know how it works,” he added, brushing off her explanation of the strange Spidey-Sense slayers apparently had. “I just meant- well, they’re probably on edge, right? If they’re still there. Regardless of whether their vampire senses are tingling they might try and jump you… it wouldn’t be the first time someone acted on impulse.” A laugh escaping him, it took him a few seconds too long to realise Mina was being serious. “Wait- I’m not tipsy.” He insisted. “This is my basically natural state of being.” He had been far worse on many occasions and somehow always managed to arrive home before the sunrise. He was falling into a routine. His smile slipping as Mina’s sudden concern pulled him out of his thoughts. He stared at her, his brain working to process what she was telling him, why her tone had changed so drastically. Almost in slow motion, everything fell into place, leaving him with a strange sense of clarity despite not knowing exactly what she was. Things were starting to make an awful lot of sense. “Shit, you’re the reason Bex keeps telling me not to make promises, aren’t you? And not to say thank you, or like- swear on stuff…”  

Turning his attention back to Bex, feeling the need to make sure she didn’t decide to go and scope out the cemetery, he shook his head. “I know they’ll be okay… I just didn’t like leaving them behind like that, you know? But they weren’t showing any sign of trauma…” A smile tugging at his lips as she assured him appearing on her doorstep wasn’t unfair, he really wanted to believe her. Thinking about what he would do if she showed up on his doorstep made it far easier to accept as the truth. He would help her without question, she was only doing the same for him now. “You are that kind of friend for me… you already are.” Worried he might have crossed a line by hugging her, he gave her some space as she cleared her throat, composing herself after such an unexpected show of affection. “You don’t need to walk with me, it’s late for you guys... this was enough- more than enough.” 

“A lot of things are a grey area,” Mina murmured, and she wasn’t really sure how to deal with that fact, despite being used to it for a while now. Everything was so much more grey that she’d thought it was when she was younger, the world of black/white morality and good vs. evil not really as simple as it should be. She wished it was simple. She just wanted things to be simple, sometimes. She was so, so glad it wasn’t simple. “Your roommate’s pretty smart.” And she tried not to be too disgruntled at the mention of Twilight, playing with the ring on her hand as she remembered the way that the rock trapped inside it had once made her sparkle similarly to Edward Cullen. Mina gave Milo a nod as she finished cleaning up, confident in his ability to tend to himself if he said that he could. Thinking about the slayer, she frowned. “They’re supposed to be trained not to go after humans, no matter what. If they don’t sense undead, they should… not retaliate.” At least, that was how it was supposed to be. She’d been proven wrong plenty of times, though, since she’d come to White Crest. She snorted. “I don’t believe you.” Mina scratched at the back of her neck. “Guilty as charged,” she said, her voice quiet. “You should never thank the Fae.”  

Mina would have rolled her eyes at Bex if she thought she could get away with it. Because she knew how Bex reacted towards people that hurt people that she cared about. She might say she wasn’t going after them, but if she got upset, then Mina didn’t know what she’d do. Probably go after them. She watched the two of them interact, the tenseness in Bex’s shoulders, the way that Milo immediately let go when it seemed he was making her uncomfortable. She gave Bex a small smile, hoping to be comforting, before she looked back at Milo. Dryly, she said, “We don’t sleep much. It’s really no big deal. And we can handle ourselves on the walk back, if that’s what you’re worried about.” She let claws and webbing form on her hands. “Really, we can take you home.”

“Twilight is iconic whether you want to admit it or not,” Bex said with an affirming nod, as if there was no room to argue afterwards. But the subject had moved on quickly, even as she decided to hold her tongue when it came to black and white and grey matters. She had maybe too many opinions about it, but that was the thing-- morality was opinion, when it was all boiled down. She didn’t think either of them would agree with her, though, and Milo was right-- getting blood from the hospital was a much safer option than anything else. Certainly safer than what Metzli had figured out, but Milo had already said he’d asked if they would let him help with the blood source, and they’d refused. So, really, what was there to do. She let out a breath and noted Mina fiddling with her ring, letting her gaze drop to the matching one on her own hand. She suddenly wondered if using a rock that had made Mina so upset for so long had been a good idea, but she couldn’t forget the look on Mina’s face the first time she’d shown her the bit of meteorite she’d gotten for her. At least, before she’d told her how she’d gotten it, and about the redcaps. She frowned, when attention came back towards the hunter. “Yeah, well, seems like more and more lately, we’ve been finding hunters who really don’t care about all that,” she said with a sour tinge, before straightening up and grabbing the bottle of vodka. “But I’ll leave it alone for now, since you insist on them being okay.” Maybe she’d go check tomorrow, anyway.  

Standing, she let out a huff, ready to change the subject again. “I’m gonna go put this back, then we’ll grab our coats and better shoes and walk you home. Or at least to your block. Is it far? Maybe we should drive…” Noting the way her head still felt light and her chest still felt heavy. She rubbed a hand over her sternum a second, as if trying to relieve the pressure, before she turned and went into the kitchen to put the bottle back. Mina was right, though-- neither of them slept much, and maybe Bex’s lack of it was finally starting to get to her. She felt exhausted, but, really, that didn’t matter when she had a friend in need. Brushing it off, she headed back in and put on a smile, wiping away the awkwardness her skin still buzzed with from the sudden contact. “Ready?” 

“Yeah, he is.” Milo agreed, thinking of Harsh and how much help he had given him over the course of his time as a vampire. More than he probably deserved. Humming quietly as the conversation moved back to the hunter from the cemetery, he couldn’t help but doubt Mina’s confidence. Anybody trained in violence was going to make a mistake. Especially when their life quite literally depended on acting quickly, on acting without warning. Regardless of whether Bex looked threatening, the idea of her wandering into that cemetery made him incredibly nervous. He didn’t trust the hunter to have left, and he definitely didn’t trust their judgement. As if to prove him right, Bex decided to elaborate on her girlfriend’s statement, a dark undertone to her voice that made him wonder whether Mina had been hurt too, or attacked by somebody questionable. In spite of the subject, he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of triumph when she admitted she was indeed the reason Bex insisted promises could be dangerous. And then she mentioned Fae. He didn’t know much about Fae, bar what Rio had told him, and he was infinitely curious. Ignoring the heartache he felt when his thoughts drifted to Orion, he forced himself to stay present. A difficult feat given just how much alcohol was currently in his system. So Mina was Fae, and Bex was a Spellcaster. He really was going to have to start making notes. “I really am fine.” He added, realising she had made it clear she didn’t believe his previous statements. “Besides, if you don’t sleep much that only means you need all of the sleep you can…” He trailed off, staring as Mina’s hand shifted, becoming claws, and webbing as he watched. He wasn’t disgusted, or horrified, only fascinated by what he could only assume was her true form.  

Collecting himself, he pushed on. “I wasn’t saying that because... I mean, I know you guys can take care of yourselves… I just don’t want to be more of an inconvenience, y’know?” He did his best to clarify. He still didn’t know a lot about what Mina could do, but there was no question of just how powerful Bex might be. “Also Twilight is iconic. Rio made me watch it…” He lowered his gaze, a soft sigh escaping him. It had been so long now since he had last seen his friend, and he missed his company, the sound of his voice, how safe he felt in his presence. His expression briefly faltering as he realised the bottle of vodka was being taken away, he begrudgingly pushed himself to his feet. He was tired, and uncomfortable, he longed to crawl into his bed. “It’s not that far, maybe twenty minutes?” He guessed, feeling a spark of guilt as he realised they would have to walk back to their house again. It felt like too much, it felt too unfair, but they weren’t about to let him leave alone. There was absolutely no room for argument, and honestly, he didn’t want to argue with them. It would be nice to have company. It would be nice not to have to look over his shoulder every ten seconds for fear of being followed by some asshole who wanted him dead. “I’m ready,” he said, concern creasing his brow as he noticed Bex rub absentmindedly at her chest. “Hey… are you okay?” He asked, his voice low so that he wouldn’t alert Mina who had started to move towards the entryway. 

“You had to have stitches and are wobbly on your feet,” Mina said to Milo, her voice deadpan. “I don’t think you’re particularly fine.” Especially not when he was a vampire of all creatures, someone that healed significantly faster than a hunter or a werewolf or herself or especially a human. Not to mention how shaken he was. If he was worried about their own well-being, then that meant that he thought this was a serious situation. And maybe it was, but Mina knew hunters. At the very least, she knew trained hunters. She knew that, as long as she didn’t reveal herself as someone supernatural, then she and Bex wouldn’t be at risk if they ran into this slayer. They. Plural. Because Mina wasn’t letting Bex go alone. The way Milo’s voice brought Mina’s attention to the fact that not many people were used to seeing silver scales and webbing and claws on people that were mostly human in appearance. He didn’t seem to be judging her, the look on his face more interested than anything else, but Mina still shied away from the attention, letting the inhumanity fade from her skin slowly. 

“It’s not an inconvenience,” Mina added, giving Milo a small but sincere smile. The mention of Rio piqued her curiosity, remembering the rather thin but brave boy that she’d met who had been with her during the warden attack. The look of fondness and longing on his face was familiar, something that she could recognize. Still, she chose to address his next question. “Twenty minutes isn’t that bad. We should be able to manage.” She ran more than that some nights anyway. It was fine. She allowed the two of them to hang back as she moved towards the door, grabbing her coat off the rack and putting on a pair of boots, lacing them up as she waited. 

“What Mina said,” Bex pointed out, but she did so in a lighter tone, a gentle smile, letting him know that even if he was in this condition, she didn’t mind. It was okay. “Definitely not an inconvenience.” She gave a little nod, glancing over at Mina as she headed towards the door to gather her jacket and shoes, noting as she made her webbing and scales disappear from her skin. She wished she could reach out and give Mina the confidence she needed to not be embarrassed by them, but slowly, and surely, she was getting more comfortable, and all Bex could do right now was support that. Her attention turned back to Milo as he hung back and whispered something to her. She hadn’t even noticed she’d been doing it until he pointed it out, and she dropped her hand, shrugging. “Fine,” she muttered back, not wanting to concern anyone with something so paltry, but wondering if Milo, with his superhearing, could hear her erratic heartbeat the way Mina could with her head on her chest. She’d pointed it out once or twice but Bex had brushed it off. It didn’t mean anything, not really. It wasn’t important, not when there were so many other things to be taken care of. 

She gave Milo an apologetic look, though, and decided he deserved more than just a brush off. “Sorry, I--” she looked at Mina at the door, then back to Milo-- “I’m just having a hard time sleeping lately. It’s nothing, really.” It was just the nightmares and the memories and the headaches. She gave him a reassuring smile and motioned for him to follow her to the door. “C’mon, let’s get you home and worry about everything else in the morning, okay? I don’t know about you, but I could use a nice day to relax.” 

Milo opened his mouth to argue with Mina before deciding he didn’t have the energy. Instead he shot her a look that made it clear he didn’t agree with her observations. Realising she had caught him staring at her hands, his expression shifted, and he offered her a sheepish smile. Any disagreements were quickly forgotten. Regardless of her assurance, it still felt like an inconvenience, but he was being forced to accept the fact that they were walking with him. There was nothing he could do or say to stop them at this point. “No minutes is better than twenty minutes.” He pointed out, but it was clear in his voice that he had resigned himself to their company. His smile growing somewhat as he watched Mina locate her coat in the hall, he turned back to Bex, who was smiling too. Jeez, he really was lucky to be surrounded by so many people willing to help him. Despite what he was, despite who he was. Surely he couldn’t be worth the stress he caused.  

“Fine?” He echoed as her hand dropped back to her side. He had gotten remarkably good at tuning out the constant hum of heartbeats, but now he focused on the sound, listening to how Bex’s heart seemed to jump, wild, and inconsistent in her chest. Her pulse was clear, but it wasn’t steady, and he didn’t need to be the son of two doctors to understand that wasn’t healthy. “Is that normal?” He whispered, wondering whether Mina was aware. “Is that a magic thing?” His smile fading as he was overcome with concern, he longed to help, he just didn’t know how. Technically, he couldn’t even sleep anymore. How was he supposed to aid anybody else in getting rest when he could barely manage it himself? Following her to the door, he knew his words were useless but they fell from his lips before he could stop them. He wanted to say something, even if it wouldn’t make a difference. “Maybe you can get some sleep during the day?” He suggested, as though she hadn’t considered that thought herself. It was never going to be that easy. 

Bex shrugged, as if trying to brush it off. She didn’t really feel like discussing the state of her health with anyone, let alone Milo. She didn’t want to worry him, or anyone, really. It wasn’t that bad, anyway. So her chest hurt a little sometimes, and she’d been having heart palpitations a lot, lately, but it would go away after a bit and then she’d push it out of her mind until the next time it happened. “Yeah, I mean, it might be-- could be,” she said back, nodding. She didn’t think that was really it, but she’d only first noticed it after Frank had electrocuted her and Nell had supposedly restarted her heart with her blood magic. So, maybe it was because of magic. Maybe she should talk to Nisa about it, she was a healer, after all. She turned back to look at Milo, giving as much of a reassuring smile as she could. “It’ll be fine, there’s no need to worry. It’s probably just cause I’m tired and stuff.”  

She made her way over to Mina, then, and slipped her hand into hers gently, glancing back at Milo. “Yeah, maybe,” she shrugged, “you ready?” She held her free hand out to Milo, the hand that had her promise ring on it clutching Mina’s. “Let’s get you home. I’m sure tomorrow will be better for everyone, right?” At least, she could hope. She had to believe that it would be, otherwise, she wasn’t sure she’d get out of bed. 

Milo frowned to himself. He didn’t like how unsure Bex seemed. She shouldn’t be so vague in her answer, not when he was questioning her on the condition of her heart. But he decided to let the subject go. She never queried his decisions, never asked him whether he really should be reaching for the bottle, or brushing off another hunter’s desperate attack. The least he could do was trust her to take care of herself. “Okay,” he said, his voice gentle, and hopefully comforting. He wanted her to know he wasn’t going to push for further elaboration. “I really hope you can sleep today…” He trailed off, holding back from apologising for interrupting her evening. She had already insisted he wasn’t being a bother, what more was there to say? Watching his friend as she made her way over to where Mina was standing, he felt a strange warmth spreading outwards from his chest. Together they were so soft, so aware of each other. And then Bex held her hand out, and he realised he was being invited into their circle. They knew what he was, they didn’t care. They saw every habit, every trait, every mannerism, and yet here they were; helping him heal, encouraging him to move closer.  

Swallowing his emotion, he took a step without thinking, too drunk, and too distracted to watch where he was going. It would be less ridiculous somehow if his foot had caught on an object, or a platform. He had the excuse of being unfamiliar with the layout of the house. But even he knew, as he lost his balance and fell to the floor, hitting it with a resounding thud, that he had undeniably tripped over his own feet. Too clumsy, and sluggish to coordinate his limbs, entirely unaware of his own body, pain radiated outwards from a few points of impact, and he hurried to stand, brushing himself off before anybody could make a comment. Letting out a huff of breath, his annoyance genuine, but also playful, he looked Mina in the eye. “Maybe I’m a little drunk.” He admitted begrudgingly. “But only a little.” A smile tugging at his lips, he finally moved to take Bex’s hand, walking with care, glancing down so that he wouldn’t trip again. Slipping his fingers between her own, feeling the heat of her blood beneath her skin, her scent washed over him and he realised in some way she had become home to him. For the first time since leaving the cemetery, he knew he was safe. “Come on,” he pulled her towards the doorway, a laugh escaping him as he considered the teasing he was undoubtedly about to face. “Let’s get outta here…”  

[writingblock101]

Little Shit (Jason Todd x Reader)

Request for anonymous: Funny #10 (“From the bottom of my heart... My bad.”) with Jason please! 

How suiting to our resident little shit. 

Word count: 1,200 words 

Tags: @idkmanicantenglish

You roll through the window and crash to the floor, not caring enough to break your fall. Jason follows, collapsing onto the floor next to you, breathing heavily. You groan, yanking your sweaty mask off your face and holding your throbbing side. Honestly, you hate running, but you can’t grapple to a rooftop with broken ribs. Hell, you can barely run with broken ribs, but here you are. At least you and Jason made it back to his safe house. 

As you prop yourself up on your elbows and look around the nicely furnished apartment, more questions than answers begin forming in your head. 

“Uh… Jay?” You nudge him. 

He groans, not bothering to pull his helmet off. 

“Are you sure this is your safe house?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Jason asks as he sits up and pulls his helmet off. 

He proceeds to shake his very wet head like a dog, sending sweat flying everywhere. 

“Ew!” You protest, smacking his arm. “This seems a little too nice to be one of your places.” 

Jason gasps in mock offense, a hand on his chest. 

“Are you saying I have no taste?” 

“No, I’m--” You pause. “Actually, yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. Your safe houses look like crack houses, this actually looks livable.” 

“Hey, not all of my safe houses look like crack houses,” Jason protests, getting to his feet and laying his helmet on the counter. “Besides, don’t let this place fool you, Roy has so many security systems set up, you can barely open the fridge without being electrocuted or something.” 

“So… This is Roy’s place?” You slowly get to your feet, leaning heavily against the island while Jason locates the cups. “I didn’t take him for the interior decorating type.” 

“He’s not,” Jason answers, sliding you a cup of ice water. “But Donna’s got a knack for it.” 

“Are he and Donna dating?” 

Jason shrugs with an eye roll. 

“Who knows with Roy. I’m going to go disable the security system.” 

You nod, then glance behind you at the open window. You should probably close that to keep any bugs or unwelcome guests from entering. As you shut the window, an important question crosses your mind: 

“Wait, Jay, do you even know how to disable the--” 

ZAP!

A heavy dose of electricity shocks your system, sending you crashing to the ground with a yelp. Jason sprints back into the room to find you laying on the floor on the verge of tears, holding your side. 

“Uh… Kind of?” He offers. 

You roll onto your back and flip him off, taking deep breaths. The pain slowly subsides while Jason rubs the back of his head. 

“So… The window security works?” He asks. 

You sit up, glaring at your boyfriend. 

“What do you fucking thinking?” 

“Oops.” 

You pull your boot off and chuck it at Jason’s head. He yelps and ducks behind the island before your boot can hit him.

“Hey!” He yells in protests. 

“Get fucked,” You tell him. 

Jason laughs but stands back up with a shrug. 

“Yeah, I guess I kind of deserve that after accidentally electrocuting you.” 

“You deserve way worse,” You grumble, getting to your feet then promptly collapse into one of the chairs at the island. “You didn’t even apologize.” 

“From the bottom of my heart,” Jason begins solemnly. “My bad.” 

You chuck your other boot at him. He dodges it again but kisses you on the cheek then ducks out of hitting range to finish disabling the security system. 

“Love you, babe!” He calls. 

“Sure you do, you little shit.” 

While Jason disables the rest of the security system (this time without shocking you), you bury your face in your arms, all your exhaustion hitting you. Your legs are sore and heavy. You barely have the energy to lift them to rest on the leg rest wrapped around the chair and your arms are aching. 

The cold marble cools down your sweating face and lolls you into an easy sleep. You barely realize how much time has passed until Jason is turning your chair and picking you up, bridal style. 

“Huh?” You jerk awake from your impromptu nap. 

“Come on, sleeping beauty, let’s get you clean.” 

He carries you into the bathroom where the shower is already running and sets you on the toilet. You peel your sweaty costume off while Jason strips nearby then you both step into the shower. For the first few minutes, you simply lean against Jason, enjoy the hot water running down your back. He tucks his head against your shoulder running his fingers up and down your back until you both finally break away to actually shower. 

Once you finish showering, you both change into something comfortable and crawl into bed, your back against Jason’s chest. 

“We should really go through and update some of your safe houses,” You murmur into a pillow. 

“What’s wrong with my safe houses?” Jason protests. 

“They look like crack houses!” 

“They’re not that bad!” 

“Yes, they are!” 

“Well, they have to blend in with the neighborhood!” 

“But isn’t it nice to sleep on a bed that actually feels like it was designed to be slept in?” 

“Not as nice as knowing that none of my windows will electrocute me.” 

“Technically, you electrocuted me.” 

Jason sputters behind you. 

“Technically my ass! It was the damn security in the window!” 

“The security that you set off.” 

“No, technically you set it off by closing the window, sweetheart.” 

“Oh, right because closing a window from the inside is what sets off a security system.” 

“When it’s designed by Roy Harper, absolutely.” 

You pause, your eyebrows furrowing. 

“...Wait, are you serious?” 

“Yes!” Jason exclaims. “That is an actual security measure he installed!” 

“Why?!” 

“Fuck if I know, the dude keeps exploding arrows strapped to his back.” 

“Okay, but it’s not like those go off randomly in his quiver.” 

“You know, I think he’d appreciate them a whole hell of a lot more if they didn’t.”��

You pause to laugh and cover your face. 

“I think Roy needs help.” 

“You’re not the first one to think that.” 

You turn to look at Jason over your shoulder. 

“Should I worry about you more when you’re with the Outlaws?” 

“Nah,” Jason reassures you with a quick kiss. “That’s why we have Kori-- she balances out Roy and I’s tomfoolery.” 

“Remind me to get Kori a really nice Christmas present for putting up with both of your asses.” 

“Hey!” Jason protests. “I have to put up with Roy!” 

“But Kori has to put up with you and Roy.” 

“Wow, thanks, babe. Really feeling the love.” 

“Yeah, I was feeling it too when you electrocuted me earlier.” 

Jason sighs. 

“I thought we already covered this.” 

“My ribs beg to differ.” 

“You want me to kiss it better?” 

“Well, it definitely wouldn’t hurt.” 

You hear Jason chuckle then shift out from behind you so you’re laying flat on the bed. He slowly lifts your shirt then leans down and blows a wet raspberry on your stomach. You squawk indignantly and smack his head while Jason is cracking up, clearly very proud of himself. 

“Why the hell do I put up with you?!” You demand the ceiling. 

“You know, I’m pretty sure my whole family asked you that when we told them we were dating.” 

“I should’ve listened!” 

Jason grins and wraps an arm around your waist, kissing your cheek. 

“I’m glad you didn’t.” 

“I’m sure you are!” 

Jason laughs again and you shift so you’re laying against his chest. 

“Good night, doll,” He whispers to you. 

“Good night, you little shit,” You respond at a normal volume. 

Jason 100% would say tomfoolery.