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I’ll bite the bullet, RO’s kinks? 👀 are they dom, sub or switch??
"Whatever you want, baby" gang : Arlo, shay, Alexis, kai
Dom : River, Vic
#answered#oh no i didnt answer the kinks#nvm i have another ask like this I'll answer them then lol#RI8ish#shiron “shay” hill#alexis “alex” sinclair#river fox#arlo kent#kai d'melio#victor/ia “vic” alvarez
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With the immense aid of @orbitalpirate, I present to you the Season 2 Players.
1 Kukoč (No 7) - Reserve Right Midfielder
2 Tyler Shannon (No 27) - Reserve Center Midfielder
3 Thierry Zoreaux (No 81) - Goalkeeper
4 Tom O’Brien (No 1) - Reserve Goalkeeper
5 Jack Dawkins (No 15) - Reserve Center Midfielder
6 Declan Cockburn (No 19) - Reserve Forward
7 Robbie Roberts (No 16) - Reserve Forward
8 Tommy Winchester (No 4) - Reserve Center Back
9 Paul Reynolds (No 20) - Reserve Center Back
10 Jan Maas (No 13) - Center Back
11 Richard Montlaur (No 8) - Center Midfielder
12 Moe Bumbercatch (No 21) - Center Midfielder
13 Kyle McCracken (No 28) - Reserve Forward
14 Gareth Canterbury (No 3) - Reserve Left Back
15 Jeff Goodman (No 17) - Left Back
16 Colin Hughes (No 12) - Left Winger
17 Dani Rojas (No 14) - Striker
18 Isaac McAdoo (No 5) - Captain & Center Back
19 Jamie Tartt (No 9) - Striker
20 Sam Obisanya (No 24) - Right Winger
21 Arlo Dixon (No 2) - Right Back
(Not numbered, but that is Coach Armada to the left in the second row. He shaved that beard off for season 3.) (Not numbered but next to Will is Kasali Casal. He is a former professional footballer who had a career ending injury 😭. He was brought on to help with authenticity and got put in a coaching uniform in case he ended up in shots 🤣)
#ted lasso#kukoč#tyler shannon#thierry zoreaux#tom o'brien#declan cockburn#jack dawkins#robbie roberts#tommy winchester#paul reynolds#jan maas#richard montlaur#moe bumbercatch#kyle mccracken#gareth canterbury#jeff goodman#colin hughes#dani rojas#isaac mcadoo#jamie tartt#sam obisanya#coach armada#coach beard#willis beard#roy kent#nathan shelley#nate shelley#will kitman#arlo dixon
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The AFC Richmond boys at the beginning of season three:
Dani: God, Trent Crimm is so scary. You were right
Roy: We have to talk about the things he could use to pull us apart
O’Brien: Okay, erm, I have been banned for my lifetime from Lake Ontario. Don't ask
Isaac: Okay. What else do you have?
Jan: My fear of pears
Everyone else:
Isaac: Okay, you're afraid of pears
Jan: And pear-shaped people
Isaac: Uh, that’s interesting
Jamie: I'm not convinced I know how to read, I’ve just memorized a lot of words
Colin: The doctors say I might grow another 18 inches
Isaac: That's a different image of you. I'm gonna get past that. I'm past it
Bumbercatch: The moon landing…which is obviously fake—
Isaac: No, it's not obviously fake. What? Are you crazy?!
Bumbercatch: The moon landing’s definitely fake by the way. The shadows are off!
Roy: No, they’re not!
Bumbercatch: Uh, yes they are, I looked at photos on the internet
Sam trying to calm everyone down: Bumbercatch, that’s—
Bumbercatch: The shadows are off!
Isaac: The shadows are not off! Those photos are photoshopped—
Bumbercatch: That’s not true!
Roy: People do that as a joke to trick stupid people!
Bumbercatch, sarcastically: Oh, yeah, you can just photoshop stuff—
Dani: Wait a minute… He’s doing it already, he’s getting in our heads!
Jamie: Unbelievable, good call
Isaac: Okay, this is good. Let’s keep going
Roy: I totally agree, okay
Richard: I’m definitely sexually attracted to ladybugs
Isaac: …Okay
Dixon: I’m weirdly good at volleyball
Colin: I believe horses are from outer space
Will: I believe that too!
#ted lasso#ted lasso apple tv#ted lasso incorrect quotes#source: new girl#trent crimm#dani rojas#roy kent#tom o’brien#isaac mcadoo#jan maas#jamie tartt#colin hughes#moe bumbercatch#sam obisanya#richard montlaur#arlo dixon#will kitman#will the kitman
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#ted lasso#tedlassoedit#jamie tartt#roy kent#coach beard#nate shelley#arlo white#chris powell#mae green#the pub lads#the signal#*#off he goes to destroy people#i say that's my baby and i'm proud#i almost didn't make this but then realized the signal set of gifs felt incomplete without it
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🏴☠️🍋🐸🐛🥺That angelic voice it's just legendary! 🥺🐛🐸🍋🏴☠️
#the marvelous misadventures of flapjack#gravity falls#amphibia#rottmnt#adventure time#todd capybara#Flapjack#thurop van orman#gideon gleeful#sprig plantar#Kent#amphibiland#His voice is in my head rent free#I just love it#tmmof#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#I need to hear him in Arlo ASAP!
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Follow That Beat Prompt List
Please check the updated character list on my pinned post to see who I am writing for before submitting a prompt!
Also read the rules and do not forget to put the entire prompt into your ask!
She was sitting in another man’s pick up truck, kissing him on the mouth
He’s as tough as the tattoos up his right arm
He hides his heart and hurt because he kinda had to
I’ve run too many miles trying to ride out all the sadness
Oh, there was Heaven in your eyes
Shot guns and roses
Confident sexy in the heels you walking in
Ain't afraid to take chances And wears her heart on her sleeve
But if you see her tonight she’ll be flirting with Jack
you're my favorite kind of night
Every time I see you lying next to me in this room I stop and thank the good lord for blessing me with you
Hold me close and I won't leave
I bet you love me more after that first fuck
The way that she drives me wild
I’ve talked him down from getting in a fight or two
Everything's alright when She calls me back,
I know I've waited so long to tie the knot But better late than not
But I can't stop the rush And I can't give you up
He stands his ground, he’s as stubborn as the weeds in the back yard
The daylight holds you close, but tonight you are mine
Growing up he had to go where the wind blew
When she gets that come-get-me look in her eyes
Got me pulling on your hair
So I love when you call unexpected
Don't turn off the lights (lights)Can we try something new?
Timid girl black dress with hair tied back
Teddy bears and "I'm sorry" letters
I'd be kicking myself if I didn't get one knee Give you this diamond ring
Wanna be in love but I can’t get close to anybody
You know our love would be tragic
I'd be the happiest man in the world to call ya mine
If I was here I would damn sure hate me
Somethin' 'bout you Makes me wanna do things that I shouldn't
Look at me and don't you lie
I’m afraid you’ll walk away when the tears start running, but I hope not.
It's harder than I thought to tell the truth
I just fuck you and leave
Destiny called as we locked into each other's eyes
And you're all about the chase But you won't ever let me catch you
Don't bury me alive
All that you got, skin to skin, oh my God Don't you stop
Fate told me woman like you are one of a kind
Girl my eyes rose and my heart dropped to the floor The second you walked through that door
Do you lie awake restless?
I know that you want me to stay with you, but no
I ain't a stranger to the foreplay
Taking control of this kind of moment
Maybe I can drive ya home
She can't help but amaze me
I can feel your body trembling Don't worry, I'ma give it all to you
Cause I've been looking for a woman like you for quite some time
I fell in love with the Devil And now I'm in trouble
Made my decision to test my limits
Realizin', shouldn't have let you go
Gentle love but touch passionately
I took a good thing and turned into goodbye
die while saving you
You lose your friends, you lose your wife
#Sonny Quinn#Brock Reynolds#Trent Sawyer#Eric Blackburn#dean winchester#jake seresin#Cordell Walker#Captain Larry James#Dan Miller#Rip Wheeler#Travis Wheatley#Ryan Yellowstone#Walker Yellowstone#matt keller#beau simpson#diego hargreeves#roy kent#Carlton Lassiter#Ian Egerton#Don Eppes#JD Dempsey#De Shawn Jackson#Michelle Mackey#Dwayne Pride#Chris LaSalle#Vostanik Sabatino#Arlo Turk#Harmon Rabb#Marty Deeks#AJ Chegwidden
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Take Care: Chapter Fourteen
Fic Masterpost | AO3 | Chapter List
Warnings: swearing, eventual smut, emotional themes.
A/N: YEEE FUCKING HAW WE'RE BACK AND LONGER THAN EVER. FEAST, MY PRETTIES.
Word count: 10k+
Chapter Fourteen:
Well, Arlo. It seems the Greyhounds have actually… done something right?
I know, Chris. If you’d told me they’d be in this position, not even in the Premier League, yet through to the FA Cup final, then well! I’d have eaten my hat!
But Arlo, you don’t own any hats.
There’s lots that you don’t know about me, Chris.
Oh. Well, I’d like to find out more one day, Arlo.
Maybe one day, Chris. Maybe one day… But, moving forward– it seems AFC Richmond’s new coach, badboy Roy Kent, has well and truly shared the fabled ‘Roy Kent Effect’ once more.
That’s certainly true, Arlo! Kent and his teammates have never worked so well, even when he was on the pitch next to them. I think this is the start of a blossoming season for the Greyhounds.
I agree, Chris. So, you heard it here, folks. AFC Richmond are off to Wembley!
A few weeks after Roy’s return, you found yourself feeling the love. When you came to, you were screaming your head off. Everything was a giant blur of those familiar reds and blues, so you knew you were home. The locker room still looked the same as always, but the players within were so drastically separate from how they were a week ago that you could hardly fucking believe it.
AFC Richmond were going to Wembley for the FA Cup final. The only downside– they were against Manchester fucking City. You weren’t about to dampen their joy, though. You suspected they all knew exactly what was at stake, but they deserved this. They deserved to feel like winners.
Sam bound over to you as soon as he could. His embrace brought you back down to earth, and you hugged him back so tightly that it was a miracle neither of you passed out. “God, I am so proud of you,” you whispered into his shoulder.
He reciprocated by squeezing you once more, before you tugged apart. “You still bring us good luck. You are part of the reason we have come this far.” He spoke so earnestly that you couldn’t stop your throat from drying up.
You swallowed painfully, utterly overwhelmed. Sam went one step further, however, when he stepped onto one of the benches. “Hey, guys! Guys!” he yelled, bringing the sound in the room right down. Every player, and coach alike, turned to him and listened intently. “We wouldn’t have gotten to this position without the help of every single person in this room.” Sam looked down at you then, smiling like the golden sun. “Thank you, everyone! We’re Richmond till we die!”
The room erupted into roars that no jungle could replicate. You soaked up their cheers, their happiness, their togetherness, and as you did you sensed someone close by: Roy.
He stood in the doorway of the manager’s office, wearing a tracksuit that donned Richmond’s logo. He’d fallen into his coach position as if he’d always been here– assertively, strongly, respectfully. When you glanced around the room and saw him, you had to stop just for a moment to take him in. You smiled at him, even though he wasn’t looking at you. When he eventually caught your eye, you quickly looked beyond him, acting as if you hadn’t been eyeing him up for the better half of a minute.
Roy liked it when you looked like this– happy, content, in the middle of a bustling and buzzing room yet perfectly fine with just existing and not speaking. You were good like that, good at listening and observing. You were also good at talking when you got to it, but Roy’s initial annoyance whenever you opened your mouth had quickly disappeared after a few weeks into your placement at the club. That sentiment had only grown over the past year and a half.
Jesus– eighteen months. It’d really gone fast, hadn’t it? Eighteen months, and you’d grown into your talent and only increased your work ethic (even if you secretly hated your current position). Eighteen months, and Roy had played his last game of football ever, but coached his first professional game since.
Roy leaned on the doorframe of the manager’s office and crossed his arms. Dani had his hands wrapped around your neck lovingly from behind. The two of you swayed back and forth as the team continued rejoicing. Slowly, you latched your fingers onto Dani’s forearms and held them tightly. Roy knew what that felt like, having you close. He’d been there with you once, when it was impossible to keep your hands off each other in a crowded room like this.
There was another thing that hadn’t happened in eighteen months. You and Roy. Roy and you. In truth, you’d thought about things more than he had. This was amongst one of the first times he’d allowed himself to think of you together, properly, and what it could have been like.
He thought back to November, almost six months ago now, when he’d told you that he had no intention of fucking things up. To do that, you and Roy couldn’t happen– wouldn’t happen.
Roy frowned when he thought about how awful he’d been, not even during that conversation, but afterwards. He hadn’t put up any boundaries, had continued acting the same as he always was around you. It wasn’t kind; he knew that as soon as he’d seen your face on Boxing Day, practically scrambling to get the fuck out of his house.
The bad thing was, however, that Roy didn’t want to stop. Sure, he’d said things would never happen, and you’d graciously accepted that fate and tried to move forward over these past few months like any respectful and decent person would. But, he hadn’t. He’d said the words, but not followed them.
Roy huffed to himself, only now realising– he was a fucking idiot.
This was Roy’s more prominent disease, it seemed: delayed on-set realisation of selfishness. DOROS for short. Maybe he’d always known, but had pushed it all away in favour of keeping you close. Maybe he’d always known, but innately knew that he had never wanted to cut things off with you, so simply acted like he’d never fucking said a thing.
Mentally, Roy added a new to-do box to his list.
Fix things with you.
He would. Oh, he would.
“Roy!” Ted’s familiar accent called from behind him. Roy turned around and looked down at his fellow coach, sat before him with his feet on his desk. Beard was the same, and the two of them looked like peas in a pod. “How’re your first few weeks going?”
Roy balled his fists instinctually. “Good. I think.”
“Well, you gosh darn thunk correctly!” Ted burst, jumping out of his chair in excitement. “And now, I need your help once again. This match next week, the big one.” He stopped directly in front of Roy, chin to chin. “How do we keep the guys like this?”
This meaning the ruckus behind him. Joyful, strong, ready to fight with all they’ve got even if the outcome isn’t in their favour. Roy knew that feeling well, having felt it too many times to count.
He sighed. “It’ll be tough. Come tomorrow, they’ll all start to spiral.”
“How so?”
Roy shrugged. “It’s the hope that kills you.”
Ted’s face soured immediately. “I don’t like your sayings over here.”
“Yeah, well…” Roy turned around to look at the guys. “It’s easier than being fucking disappointed.”
“Screw that!” Ted suddenly exploded. He grabbed Roy’s shoulders and urged him to look in his eyes. “We’re stopping that today. What’s the first thing that comes to mind when you look at those guys right there, acting like that?” Ted asked.
Roy swivelled his head back around to look at them. “I… I dunno?” he said.
Ted squeezed his shoulders abruptly. “Yes, you do! Say it. Say it!”
“All-fucking-right!” Roy yelled. “Her!” He pointed at you without hesitating.
As if on cue, you laughed. You scrunched your eyes shut in happiness, giggling as Dani placed his chin atop your head. He squeezed you tighter, and you giggled even harder, gripping his arms stronger than before. Sam and Colin laughed opposite them, still overcome with the buzzing adrenaline of the win. They all were. You perpetuated that feeling, made the guys want it even more so you could join them at times like this.
Ted moved next to Roy, looking at the same scene. “Well, I’ll be damned,” Ted whispered. “You’ve never been more right in your life.”
You had to suck in a deep breath as your laughter dissipated. Your lungs were empty of all reserves, but you’d never felt better about it. Dani gently removed himself from you to head towards Richard and Zoreaux. As he did, the most unexpected thing happened.
Someone tapped you on the shoulder, and when you turned to greet them with a glowing smile, you stopped short. Jamie Tartt stood before you. “Hey,” he said.
You kept things light as you perked your brow at him quizzically. “Hi.” You smiled. “Congratulations.”
Jamie laughed awkwardly, bringing a hand to the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. Thanks very much.” You’d never tire of his accent, secretly. You were fond of Mancunian. “Listen, can I talk to you for a moment?”
Your eyes widened in surprise. “Oh– sure.”
“Privately,” he added.
You glanced around the locker room quickly, before nodding once. Jamie led you out to the corridor and beyond. He opened the door to the kit room and held it for you as you entered, then followed you inside and shut the door behind him.
You didn’t know where to place yourself. Stood in the centre of the room, overwhelmed by the scent of soggy feet, you turned to the striker and waited. Jamie stood opposite you with the same feeling of being utterly out of place.
“What can I do for you, Jamie?” you started, getting the ball rolling.
“I know we’re not really… er, close.” He clutched his hands together awkwardly, almost unable to meet your eye. “But I know how much you mean to the club and that.”
You huffed amusedly. “Sure,” you agreed.
“Which is why I know you won’t laugh at me when I ask you this.” Tartt finally met your eye, and you were taken aback. Whatever was on his mind you now knew was a big deal. I mean, it had to be for him to approach you like this, surely?
“Okay,” you said sturdily. “Lay it on me.”
“It’s Roy.” You held your breath as he said it. Never in your wildest dreams did you think that Jamie would come to you about a Roy problem, yet here he was. “He won’t coach me. Not like the others, you know. I know I was a dick in the past, for lack of a better word, and that Roy was on the receiving end sometimes–”
“All the time,” you said, matter of factly. Jamie subtly exploded.
“Okay, fine– all the fucking time– but I’m back now, and I need a fucking coach. I want him to teach me the same way he teaches Sam and Isaac and the rest.”
“But, you don’t know how to ask him,” you said your thoughts out loud.
Jamie nodded quickly, agreeing with you tenfold. “I know he’d tell me to fuck off.”
“Well, of course he’s going to do that.” You almost chuckled from how right he was in saying so. “But, I see where you’re coming from.” Your mind spiralled down different routes, unknowing of where you came into this equation. You could tell Jamie what to say, but you knew what Roy would reply simply because it was Tartt, not you. “Why come to me, though?”
Jamie’s face squished questioningly, like he couldn’t understand why you hadn’t put two and two together just yet. “Roy fucking listens to you.”
You couldn’t help but laugh now. “Oh, please. Yeah, he listens. But whether or not he decides to do what I say is a completely different ball game.”
Jamie reached out to you suddenly and gripped your shoulders in desperation. “Please. I know I’m making up for lost time and bad behaviour and whatever else I did to the guys, or Lasso, or Roy, but I need to be useful here. I want to be useful here.”
You regarded him thoughtfully then. It was hard not to take him into account when he was like this, bearing his soul to a person who had never connected with him beforehand. Reaching out to you was a shot in the dark for him, but he’d done it anyway because he wanted to succeed. It was commendable, when you put it all into perspective.
You decided upon a middle ground. “I’ll plant the seed in his head to let you in, alright?”
Jamie let out a clear sigh of relief when you agreed. “Well, fuck– thank you.”
“But!” you continued. “You need to go to him yourself. You need to apologise, and tell him exactly what you said to me. It’s Roy, so he’ll make it a fucking nightmare and will probably be childish and petty and whatever fucking else that grown man is capable of…” As you rambled, the cogs in Jamie’s brain finally understood the whole story– you liked him, didn’t you? “...but he’ll do it eventually. He has to. He’s a coach now, and if you’re here, you deserve to be coached properly.”
Jamie squealed and smiled at the same time, his eyes ablaze with boyish resemblance. He squeezed your shoulders affectionately. “I knew coming to you would work out. I just knew it.”
You scoffed in amusement. “Don’t make it a regular thing,” you joked. “There are only so many strings I can pull with Roy.”
Jamie raised his brows assumptively. “I’m not so sure about that.”
“What do you mean by that?” All your amusement reluctantly trailed off alongside your words.
“Well,” Jamie started. His grin dropped instantly. “I mean– don’t make me fucking say it. You already know, don’t you?”
“Know what?” you pressed.
“That Roy, y’know. That Roy–” Jamie flailed his arms around like a flapping seagull. “He– y’know…”
You squinted at him. “Are you speaking some kind of secret footballer language that common people like me don’t fucking understand?”
“He likes you!” Jamie finally let out.
“Oh.” You stepped back. Jamie’s arms dropped to his sides. “Stop fucking talking now.”
“Oh, come on. You can’t see it?” Jamie looked you dead in the eye, but all you were capable of doing was looking away from embarrassment. “Well, you’re more stupid than I fucking took you for.”
“Hey!” you exclaimed. “There’s no need for that shit when I’m digging you out of the mess you fucking made last season.”
He raised his arms up in understanding. “Alright, alright. Sorry, my bad.” You let out your own sigh of relief when you realised the conversation was over.
You and Jamie headed back to the locker room soon after. As he made his way towards the guys, you stuck to the outer limits of the cinder block walls. Roy was still in the manager's office, his back turned as he spoke to Ted and Beard. You didn’t want to intrude, so you made the decision to cut back into the corridor once more; not to leave, but to wait until the guys were ready for a pint.
You slowly trudged down the familiar corridor that you used to traverse every fucking day. Past the locker room, you approached the gym. Beyond that, your old office still sat. Keeley had recently upgraded to a larger room deeper underneath the Dogtrack, however, so the usual array of pink pillows and her cheetah statue were nowhere to be seen.
You entered through the half open door and walked straight into darkness. The walls were the same, just pinker. The desk was the same, just empty. Whenever you visited this office space after time away you felt the same pull to return. You didn’t care if it had no windows; you’d managed to make it home for nearly a year without any hiccups.
God, you wanted to be back here. Everyone knew it, even Rebecca, but you daren’t take favours. You would never.
A small knock sounded from the door, and you turned back quickly. “Ready to g–? Oh!” you exclaimed. You’d been expecting Sam or Roy, but were met with the still slightly unfamiliar face of Nate. “Sorry, Nate. I thought you were someone else.”
“That’s alright,” he said, smiling. “May I come in?”
“Oh,” you spluttered. “Yes, of course. This isn’t my office anymore.”
He stepped inside. “No, no, it’s not, is it?” he said, and the tone of his voice was erring on patronising. You opted to ignore it, knowing that he wouldn’t have meant it that way. Surely?
The silent pause that flittered between you was very awkward, there was no denying it. It wasn’t that you’d meant to not really know him, but your circle at the club had seemed to travel in one certain direction that you hadn’t been able to control. The guys, Ted, Roy, Rebecca. Not Beard, not Nate. You didn’t mean anything by it innately.
If anything, you were happy that Nate was making himself known to you. You’d love to get to know him more– or more than what you barely knew of him from your time at the club.
“What a great game today, wasn’t it?” you started.
“Oh yes, fantastic game,” said Nate.
“And that thing–” You mimed what had happened on the pitch earlier, which happened to be a middle finger of all things. “That all four of you did to Jamie. Classic, really fucking brilliant.”
“Oh yes, the good old middle finger.” Nate copied you in miming what he’d done less than an hour ago. All four coaches had signalled to Tartt what needed to be done, and that signal happened to be swearing at him full-frontally. Four middle fingers had stood up on end, and Tottenham didn’t know what had hit them when Tartt managed to make a goal from just beyond the halfway line.
“You were all absolutely brilliant!” you exclaimed. “I’ve been seeing you in the paper as well, you know? The whole Wonderkid thing.”
Nate smiled forcefully. “I definitely said Wunderkind.”
“Either way, it’s fantastic you’re getting that recognition.”
“Thank you, thank you,” Nate said, taking your compliment graciously; or so you thought. “So, here’s the thing.” He plunged right into his words like he’d had them on standby the entire time.
“Go on,” you urged him happily.
“You can’t come to Wembley.”
“What?” you asked, not fully absorbing his words.
Nate stopped smiling. He looked at you sternly, or like you were akin to dirt on his shoe, or whatever else. Your smile turned to a frown instantly.
“You can’t come to Wembley,” Nate repeated.
Those five words hit you like a tonne of bricks. You didn’t understand what he was saying, or what he meant. For a second, you thought he’d got his words mixed up, maybe, but even if they were un-muddled they wouldn’t make sense at all.
“I don’t understand what you mean,” you said smally, feeling multiple degrees of hurt even though you had no explanation.
“Okay,” Nate replied. “I’ll spell it out for you.” He raised his chin and sucked in a deep and confident breath, “You cannot come to Wembley for the FA Cup final.”
You still didn’t understand, but you understood Nate’s words fully. Why he was saying them, though, you had no idea. Perhaps you hadn’t misinterpreted his patronising tone upon entering the room, but had picked it up perfectly. You didn’t know Nate enough to get mad– properly mad– but your blood boiled as you looked at him.
“Why not?” you asked, swallowing sullenly to try and keep the butterflies in your gut at bay.
Nate smiled. You hated that he smiled. It felt grimy and wrong. “Roy, Ted and Beard seem to think that you keep the team happy, and maybe you do. But, this is the fucking FA Cup final. They can’t afford any distractions, and you.” He looked you up and down like a blight. You’d never been looked at like that before in your life. “You are a distraction. You may think you’re helping, but the guys need clear minds and ready heads. You’re a distraction towards all of that.”
You laughed abruptly, at a loss for words. Nate’s smile turned to something much more condescending. Gently, he reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder. You froze on the spot.
“It’s just better if you sit this one out, alright? Don’t worry, the guys won’t miss you too much.”
You opened your mouth as if to speak, but all that came out was air. Your lungs collapsed beneath your chest, your heart pumped blood uncomfortably and incredibly fast into your limbs, your organs, your gut. It hurt. It really hurt.
Nate squeezed your shoulder. You stiffened further. “Good talk. Let’s catch up after the final.” He removed his hand from you and left promptly, leaving you in the darkned seclusion of your old office.
Realisation hit you like a double-decker bus. Nate had always been like this a bit, hadn’t he? Not before he became a coach, but afterwards, certainly. A shift had cemented within him as soon as he’d donned the Richmond jacket and owned a desk spot next to Ted and Beard. The whistle around his neck clung to him like a trophy of his authority.
Nathan Shelley was not a nice coach. Good, smart, intelligent, but not nice.
You wondered if Ted knew. You wondered if Beard knew. You wondered if Roy knew. If they did, you knew they’d do something about it, so perhaps not. Innately, despite the weak way your chest scraped air through your crippled lungs, you hoped it was just you that he had gripes with. You hoped he wasn’t like this to any of the guys themselves. Just the thought alone made you angry beyond belief.
No one on the team deserved to be treated the way that Nate had just treated you.
You sucked in a sharp breath quickly, feeling the beginnings and endings of tears behind your eyes. You wouldn’t cry, not for this. If you twisted this entire ordeal on its head then it was borderline comical. Not to toot your own horn, but you knew that if any of the guys in the locker room next door found out about this, then they’d take your side.
That was exactly why you couldn’t tell them. You weren’t about to be the reason that AFC Richmond’s managerial team broke apart. They’d come so far already after relegation. You couldn’t– wouldn’t– fuck that all up.
Quietly, you swallowed away your pride and your feelings and left your old office. Silently, you headed back to the locker room and entered timidly.
“There she is,” Roy muttered to Sam as you entered. As you approached him, you realised he’d picked up your bag and slung it over his shoulder to save you holding it yourself. “Ready to go?” he asked, face to face.
Your eyes hit his. You struggled to keep everything at bay, but brushed it off as best as you possibly could. “Yeah,” you breathed. “Here.” You gestured to your bag on his shoulder, but Roy twisted himself away from you.
“I’ve got it.” Roy frowned slowly, a sour feeling sprouted in his gut. “You alright?”
You waved him off. “I’m fine. I just don’t feel all that good, if I’m being honest.”
“Hm.” He reached out confidently and laid his knuckles against your forehead. Roy had done this to you many times. You were used to it, but still allowed yourself to silently indulge in his touch. Besides, you needed this. He didn’t know, but you needed him right now. “You do feel a bit hot, actually,” he said lowly. “Wanna skip the pub and go home?”
Gently, you nodded. Roy’s hand dropped to your shoulder, the same one that Nate had held just minutes before. Quickly, you placed your hand over his. “Yes, please.”
Roy stayed still. Something was wrong, he knew it. There was this look in your eye that coincided with you not feeling well, but that wasn’t all. The way you were standing; slumped, arms wrapped around yourself, as if you were desperately trying to make yourself smaller, invisible. The hand that rested atop his own didn’t feel strong. This wasn’t you, the real you.
Roy nodded at you in understanding. “Okay,” he whispered. Roy turned to the rest of the room and addressed the team. “You’ll have to catch us next week for drinks, boys.”
The collective groan that descended across the room made you feel awful, but there was nothing you could do about it.
Roy sensed your unease. “Hey!” he yelled. “That’s fucking enough of that. Get some sleep after your well-deserved booze break, and I’ll see you all bright and early for practice on Monday!”
“Yes, coach!”
You and Roy drove home in silence. Not the uncomfortable kind, but Roy could tell something was on your mind. It was rare that either of you evaded the weird sixth sense you had about the other now. Roy could read you as clear as he’d read your article about him.
He stopped his Jeep outside your apartment building and killed the engine. You gathered your belongings and shot him a quick smile. “Thanks.” You went to leave.
“Wait.” In one click, Roy had locked your door from the driver’s side door. “Tell me what’s wrong or I’m not letting you out.”
You huffed, slumping back into your chair in acceptance. “Really?”
“Really,” Roy repeated.
“This is childish, Roy.”
“I don’t fucking care. One moment you were happy as a daisy, and the next you look like you’ve landed on death’s fucking door.”
You sighed in exasperation. “Oh, for fucks sake.”
Roy twisted himself to face you more head on. He crossed his arms and waited patiently. “Go on.”
You rolled your eyes, wishing this to be over. “I’m on my period.”
Roy pointed at you quickly. “Don’t try and catch me out with a feminine problem that you assume men don’t want to hear about. I have a fucking sister, and I know all about how crazy her cycle made her. This isn’t that.”
“Fuck!” you exclaimed, raising your voice slightly. Your stress levels had grown exponentionally in the last minute and a half. You could feel your rapid heartbeat beneath your chest. “It doesn’t fucking matter, alright. If I wanted to talk about it then I would have told you by now.”
Roy perked his brow at you. “Is this about something football related, or something life related?”
“God!” you exploded finally. You wouldn’t mention Nate, but Roy’s incessant poking meant you had to say something real. Maybe this really was something you should have told him a while ago. “You really wanna know?” You turned towards him, eyes crazy and breathing erratic. “I hate my fucking job, okay. And everytime I go to the stadium for a game I’m reminded of everything I left behind and everything I continue to leave behind. The guys, Ted, Beard, you.”
For the first tme since the car stopped, Roy shut his mouth and listened.
“I– I wonder how much longer I can fucking do it. The commute every morning, the staleness of my work colleagues, the giant stack of papers and assignments that are always waiting on my desk to get done because no one else will fucking touch them. I don’t sleep at night properly, and I can’t even cook meals anymore. I feel like–” You sucked in a deep breath and finally looked Roy in the eye. “I feel like, even despite all of you including me in everything, I’m running on the spot behind you and will never be able to catch up. Like I’ll never be part of that world anymore. And it’s, it’s– breaking me.”
Roy leant towards you instinctually.
“Rebecca and Keeley know I hate it, but every time Rebecca talks about getting me a position at the club I freeze. It makes me feel sick that she’d so easily and without question hand me something because I don’t feel like I deserve it. And–!” Roy flicked his eyes over your face, at a loss of what to say. You laughed from a lack of what else to fucking do. “The game last weekend, when you showed up and finally realised your worth as a coach, I almost missed it because I couldn’t take being back there without thinking how much I fucking miss it all. I’m pathetic–”
“No, you’re not,” Roy interjected hoarsely.
You laughed again, on the brink of tears. “Yes, I am. Who does that? Who cries before a fucking game because they can’t handle being there? Me. I do that now, apparently.”
Silence descended inside the Jeep. You finally took a breath, and when you did you realised what you’d done. You leaned back in your seat and faced the windshield, utterly embarrassed that you’d burst at the seams.
“So,” you said smally. “That’s that.” You turned towards Roy again. “Is that what you wanted me to say?”
Roy stayed as quiet as a mouse. That wasn’t his style. Glued to his spot, Roy kept his gaze on you thoughtfully. He regarded the look on your face and noticed the subtle embarrassment on your brow; you hadn’t expected to cave so easily when questioned about what was wrong.
He looked down at your hands in your lap. Your fingers shook subtly as they brushed across your knuckles in worry. Roy hated that you were worrying after being honest about something in your life. It was only him, he thought. Surely you should know that you could tell him anything and he’d listen.
“Sorry,” you blurted out.
Roy huffed, speechless. “What the fuck are you sorry for?”
“I don’t know.”
“Fucking–” Roy moved closer to you. “Come here.”
His arms were around you in no time. You stayed stuck in place, stunned, for just a second, until you found yourself hugging him back so fiercely that you couldn’t have thougth of anything you needed more. It was funny. You could count on one hand how many times you and Roy had hugged, and none of them had been like this.
You’d been close before, sure, in proximity and in more. You were close even now, despite counting the conversation you’d both had in November. Everyone on the outside seemed to think of Roy as someone who wasn’t hands-on. He liked his space, he didn’t like to pry or poke, yet here you were– the air being squeezed from your lungs because he’d made you open up for your own good– because he couldn’t think of anything better to show that he cared than to embrace you.
Roy Kent cared so much that it was a wonder he had energy to do anything else.
When the two of you parted, you couldn’t help but laugh. You stayed close, foreheads almost touching. Roy smiled at you genuinely, fully, thoughtfully.
“No wonder you’re going mental,” he said lowly. “That’s a lot to hold onto without letting it out.”
That’s not even the half of it. You wanted to say, but you didn’t.
“You’re not running in place behind us,” Roy continued. “You’re what keeps us all together. You’re the reason I went back to Richmond.” You didn’t say anything, just took in his words. “I didn’t go back just for the game, or the guys– I went back because I knew you’d be in the box, looking down at me on the pitch again.”
Your throat closed slightly, as the urge to cry hit you. You swallowed it away, not wanting to burst again in such a short amount of time. “Well,” you whispered. “I’m glad.”
For a fraction of a second, Roy’s eyes dropped to your lips.
You’d been here before, you thought. You’d been here with him like this so many times that you couldn’t even count them off the top of your head. If you had time, a few minutes maybe, you’d be able to pinpoint every occasion where the word almost screeched within your mind.
Almost there. Almost on you.
Perhaps you’d never get beyond the proverbial almost, but this time felt different. Something had shifted recently. You felt it. Roy’s stares lingered for just a tad too long. Electricity buzzed between you even when you weren’t touching. The joy you’d felt when he’d arrived at the Dogtrack and finally caved in had been second to none. In hindsight, maybe jumping the wall of the home box and running down the steps in the stands to him had been too much.
Roy didn’t think so. He’d relished you being close. His stomach had somersaulted as soon as you’d yelled his name. Secretly, he’d hoped you’d react the exact way you did. He’d done it for you, had he not? He’d come back to Richmond for you.
Without realising, you and Roy had inched closer to each other so much that you both hovered over the centre console of his Jeep. Foreheads almost touching. Hearts almost caving.
You’d been here before so many times.
Roy swallowed without moving a muscle, ready to speak. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Instantly, you crashed back down to earth. You sucked in a deep breath and straightened yourself, leaning back towards the passenger side window. You thought the worst. Was this an ‘I’m sorry, I can’t do this’? It had to be, surely.
“Oh,” you let out, flustered. “Don’t apologise, don’t wo–”
“No,” Roy cut you off strongly, unexpectedly leaning closer. “I’m sorry for being a fucking idiot.”
Time stilled. That word– that almost– lingered in the air like dust in the desert. Heavy, dry, suffocatingly warm.
Roy’s expression grew to frustration as quickly as you’d both fallen to silence. “I thought I was doing the right fucking thing, stopping–” He gestured between you both, not able to find words. “I thought it would be better for you, to not get you mixed up in all my shit.”
The penny dropped. You squished your face into a hurt smile involuntarily. “It’s okay, Roy,” you said softly.
“And worse yet,” he continued. “I’ve been a… a fucking arse. Not changing how I acted around you, or what I said, or what I did. I must have made everything ten times fucking worse for you.”
You shook your head immediately. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does,” Roy replied instantly. “It does matter. I never wanted to play with your fucking feelings or make what I did more difficult for you, but that’s exactly what I did.”
“It’s okay,” you said. “It’s okay,” you repeated, just for good measure.
Roy fell silent for a pause, taking in your words as if he really needed to hear them. In fact, you thought he really did need to hear them, straight from your mouth and no one elses.
“You’re sure?” he asked, checked, wanted to make extra fucking sure.
You nodded quickly. “I’m sure.” You smiled, trying desperately not to let the cropped up hurt on your face show through. That wasn’t on him; he hadn’t intended to damage you this way.
“Okay.” Roy breathed out deeply, leaning back into the driver’s seat like the weight of the world had just been taken off his shoulders. “Thank fuck,” he whispered, before meeting your eye again. He smiled, accepting the silliness that one felt after being so vulnerable with someone else. “I really fucking need you, you know?”
You laughed first, wanting to say so do I. Instead, you differed your response. “Of course, you fucking do. Who else is going to tell you what to do with your life?”
Roy’s smile lit up all over his face. You remembered a time where you used to count how many times he looked at you like this; honest. Now, it was everyday.
“Exactly,” he said. Gently, he stuck his hand out and laid it upon your cheek. “Fucking exactly.” His thumb swiped across your face warmly. You shivered immensely, but tried desperately to hide it.
You glanced at the radio clock. Time ticked by, and you knew you had to leave this conversation soon. Innately, Roy knew it, too.
“My mum’s coming to Richmond tomorrow morning,” you said softly. Roy’s hand stayed put. You didn’t mind. “I need to go and clean my flat, or she’ll start washing up mugs against my will.”
Roy’s eyes flicked between your own. Affection seeped from within them, so far removed from when you’d first met. Slowly, he removed his hand from your cheek. His fingers skimmed your skin on the way back to his lap. “Okay,” he whispered; acceptance.
Almost would stay the same. Almost had gone the furthest it had ever been.
You slung your bag over your shoulder. Roy unlocked the passenger side door with one button click. You gripped the handle strongly, but paused before you left for good.
“Thank you for listening to me,” you said simply. “I mean– really listening to me.”
Roy stayed still, not leaving your gaze for a second. “Always,” he said lowly.
When the door to your building shut behind you, Roy was still reluctant to drive away. He watched as the light turned on from the window of your ground floor flat, saw your silhouette enter the living room– the room where he’d stood before a few times– and drop your bag to the floor in exhaustion.
Roy drove away when your silhouette disappeared, the feeling of you still present on his fingertips.
You didn’t tell anyone about Nate. You didn’t tell anyone that he’d warded you off or spoke ill of you supporting the team. Instead, you went to work. You encompassed yourself in your job, taking on extra responsibilities despite that being the one reason you felt spread thin.
By Thursday, you were ready to crash. Your bed had been calling you every day, as soon as you disembarked from the train at Richmond tube station. Intentionally, you ignored texts from Rebecca and Keeley about times to rendezvous at Wembley Stadium. If they ever asked, you’d blame it on having too much of a heavy work week. That would be your out.
Logically, you knew you wouldn’t be able to completely miss Richmond playing at Wembley. People would be expecting you there. The guys would be expecting you there. But, despite their cries and pleads for you to be present, you were prepared to keep them at arms length– for Nate’s sake.
When Saturday came, you knew it would be hard for you to avoid everyone at the club. By ten o’clock in the morning, Keeley had already called you twice. By half past the hour, Rebecca had called you three times.
On the fourth time she rang, you knew you had to pick up.
“Darling,” she said quickly. “What the fuck?”
“I’m sorry,” you said (you lied), secluded in your flat. “This week has been insane. I haven’t been able to focus on anything that isn’t Pluto Press related.”
Rebecca made a guttural sound in her throat. “Bollocks!” she exclaimed. “I’ll send a car. It can be there in twenty minutes if need be.”
“It’s okay. I can get the tube. Don’t worry–”
“Oh,” Rebecca cut you off. Her tone switched instantly. “Actually, don’t worry about a car. I think someone is waiting for you out front.”
As if on cue, the horn from Roy’s Jeep sounded from your living room window.
Quickly, you ran to the window. Between your sheer curtains, Roy’s obsidian black Jeep was stationed on the road by your front door. You couldn’t curse on your call with Rebecca, but by God– you wanted to.
“Is that the cavalry coming for me?” you said down the phone, peeved.
“Yes, it is,” Rebecca said smugly. “See you in an hour, darling.” She hung up the phone fast, so quick that you couldn’t give any excuse to get out of this match.
Quickly, you gathered a bag of belongings and left your flat. Reluctantly, you descended the steps of your building and pulled the handle of the passenger side door of Roy’s Jeep. You settled quickly, without fuss, but words dangled in the air as soon as silence descended within the car.
“Ready to go?” Roy said from the driver’s seat.
“Yeah,” you breathed out. Roy didn’t push you, but he did push upon the accelerator and toward Wembley Stadium.
Roy parked in the car park beneath the stadium, only for players or coaches, and killed the engine.
You grabbed your bag quickly and left his Jeep, knowing what happens when you’re trapped inside with nowhere to go. The two of you made your way through the back entrance of the stadium. It was a miracle that Roy hadn’t asked what was wrong– you were being quiet and subdued, that was enough of a trigger for him to know something was up.
You wondered if Nate had eyes on you. You wondered if he was watching you traverse the inner sections of Wembley, if he saw you freak out when going past the locker room, if he saw you retreat into yourself past the press rooms.
Roy didn’t wonder. He kept his eyes on you through it all.
Silence hung in the air uncomfortably as you passed office after office. These were the inner workings of a stadium; a world that you knew well, but nothing like that of the Dogtrack.
You finally broke the air. “I should really get to Rebecca and Keeley,” you said.
“And you will,” Roy said. “There’s just one stop we have to take first.”
Your heart stilled as soon as he turned to the right, entering into the final office on the long corridor you’d traversed. You were hit with the nervous gazes of Ted and Beard immediately, but you didn’t care for the way their expressions faltered softly—
You cared for the way Nate’s eyes bored into you with no remorse. At the back of the room, he glared at you ten times worse than he’d done the week before at the Dogtrack.
“Writer!” Ted exclaimed, filling the tension in the air with his enthusiasm. “Oh, thank God,” he added in a whisper.
“Hi,” you said smally, accepting a hug from him suddenly.
You hated this. As you removed yourself from Ted’s grasp, you could feel the steely eyes of one Nathan Shelley staring you down, like a child did to an ant before he crushed it with his shoe.
After you left Ted’s embrace, you stepped back so quickly that you almost tripped over Roy’s feet. He steadied you instantly, keeping his hand at your lower back.
“Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” Ted said, gaining some colour back on his face.
You laughed nervously. “I should really go and find Rebecca and Keeley. I shouldn’t be here.”
“Poppycock!” Ted exclaimed. “You’re exactly what we needed. The guys are in the locker room just down there, why don’t you go and say—,”
“No!” you burst suddenly.
The room went quiet instantly. Beard looked at Ted quizzically. You could feel Roy’s stare on the back of your neck.
“They need to focus,” you stuttered. “I should just go and find my seat.”
Nate stepped forward a few paces, coming between Ted and Beard silently. “I think that’s a good idea. Let her go and find her girlfriends.”
You hated the way words fell from his mouth. You knew he had you exactly where he wanted you— uncomfortable, vulnerable, everything in between— but you were in no situation to open this can of worms with Ted, Beard and Roy.
You gripped your bag on your arm tightly and turned to Roy. “I’ll see you on the pitch,” you said timidly. Quickly, and without thinking, you pressed a chaste kiss on Roy’s cheek, and left promptly.
You had no idea where you were going, but knew that you couldn’t stop as you made your way down the inner corridors of Wembley.
All you knew was that you needed to be where Nate Shelley was not, as soon as humanly possible.
“Have a glass of wine,” Rebecca said sternly from the internal bar by the VIPs box.
“I’m okay,” you said, keeping yourself contained.
Her smile turned to a frown. Oh, she knew you far too well for you to get out of this one.
“Take the fucking wine glass, darling.”
“Okay.” You took the glass of wine instantly and downed one, two, three gulps. You breathed out. “Oh, that’s better.”
“Mhm,” she hummed, satisfied.
“Sorry,” you said between gulps and sips. “It’s just been a long week.”
“I can see that,” she said, looking you up and down. “Are you sure that’s all it is? Your job?”
Shit. She knew something else was up. They all fucking did, and it drove you insane. Innately, you cursed yourself out for being so well-known, so well-loved. You were surrounded by the people who knew you most in this world, but also by the people that didn’t want you around. It was a double-edged sword of inescapable proportions, and you were tired.
“That’s all it is,” you said, trying to adopt as much sincerity as you possibly could.
Rebecca’s frown stayed put as her eyes roamed your face. Gently, she reached out her hand and ran her expensively manicured nails through your hair softly.
“You’d let us know, wouldn’t you?” she said, and you froze with your wine glass to your lips. “You’d let us know if it was something else, too?”
Keeley shoved a mini sausage roll in her mouth and approached you both quickly. “It’s Roy, isn’t it.”
You rolled your eyes. “It’s not Roy,” you groaned.
“Then what is it!” Keeley exclaimed, launching pastry crumbs across the bar.
Before you could respond, applause broke out from the crowd immensely. You gulped down the rest of your wine quickly and dropped the empty glass on a side table by the door to the stands.
“That’s kick off,” you said, already on your way to take a seat.
The conversation went unfinished, as Rebecca and Keeley followed you out of the door towards the pitch. They didn’t attempt to pry during the game, too caught up in the song and dance of yelling chants for Richmond, of being present, of supporting.
You knew you’d dodged a bullet, as you screamed your lungs out from the stands. But, you knew your silence was on a time limit. If anyone would get something out of you, it was Rebecca and Keeley.
And you knew it would only be a matter of time before they broke your silence (for the better).
When the full-time whistle blew, you felt helpless. You could only imagine how the guys were feeling, knowing that they’d lost so spectacularly against none other than Manchester City.
The person who your heart went out to the most, however, was not normal. It wasn’t Roy, it wasn’t Ted, it wasn’t even Sam or Isaac or Colin— it was Jamie Tartt.
You knew he’d be hurting the most from this immense defeat. His old team, his past life, and at Wembley fucking stadium no less. He’d be in bits.
“Well,” Rebecca said, standing up and wrapping her scarf around her neck. “That’s that, then.”
“The guys will be crushed,” Keeley said sadly.
“Jamie will be crushed.” The pair of them looked at you as you spoke. Their sombre faces were enough for you to know that they agreed wholeheartedly.
“Come on.” Rebecca passed you and stepped out of the stands. “Let’s go and commiserate with them.”
You tensed instantly, watching silently as Keeley stood up and followed Rebecca. The two of them waited for you at the end of the row.
“I should really head home,” you said finally, trying to keep your expression neutral.
“What?” Keeley.
“Why on Earth do you need to leave now?” Rebecca.
“It’s just— I don’t want to crowd them, you know?” The pitch of your voice had risen. You sounded like a mouse, a lying, cheating mouse.
The two of them stared at you like you were mental. Neither said anything, their expressions spoke a thousand words for them— what the hell is up with you?
You faltered first. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Oh no, we absolutely will look at you like this,” Rebecca said threateningly. “What’s got your knickers in a twist? You look like a labrador that’s shit all over the carpet!”
“I really hope you haven’t shat on someone’s carpet, but if you have, you can tell us.” Keeley leaned down and laid a gentle hand on your shoulder.
“I haven’t shat on a fucking carpet!”
“Then come on!” Rebecca exclaimed. “Your team needs you.” Her words stung you internally. “They need you.”
Rebecca’s commanding nature jumped out tenfold. You were stuck at an impasse, between a rock and a hard place, whatever other metaphor you could use for being trapped. One side of your brain projected a sad picture of the guys in the locker room, begging for a friendly face to come and lift them up; and the other— Nate was glaring at you like you’d just done something terribly wrong.
God, you hated this. No one knew the way he’d talked to you, or what he’d said. And the worst part was that you couldn’t tell them— wouldn’t— from how much drama it would create.
Football was supposed to be your safe space. Watching matches with your girls, cheering or crying in the locker room with the guys, urging Ted, Beard and Roy on whenever you could.
Nate had taken that all away after one simple conversation.
You didn’t know how to tell them no. If it was up to you, you would have sprung out of your seat and ran down to the locker rooms without any hesitation.
But, it wasn’t up to you. Nate’s words rattled around your mind like beads in a maraca.
Rebecca sucked in a deep breath. She leant down and grabbed your hand swiftly, warmly. “We’re here with you. Whatever you need, we’re always here. But, those boys need us the most right now. You know them better than I do—,”
“And me! You know them better than me, too!” Keeley joined in supportively.
“They don’t want us without you, and that’s a fact.”
You let out a shaking breath, then nodded quickly. Nate would have to move to the fucking side.
“Okay.” You nodded again, strongly. “Okay— let’s go see our boys.” You stood up quickly, not letting go of Rebecca’s hand.
“Your boys,” Rebecca said sternly. “They’re all yours.”
Navigating the lower levels of Wembley was nerve wracking, you couldn’t lie. Scenarios raced through your head of things going terribly wrong; Nate stopping you in the corridor; Nate forbidding you from entering the locker room; Nate this, Nate that.
Fuck this shit.
Rebecca was right. They were your boys, your team. You knew them on levels that didn’t revolve around football, you knew them as people. And by God, they needed that. This time, they needed someone to make them feel something other than defeated.
The corridors were clear when the three of you turned the corner to the locker rooms. Only a security guard stood at the door of Richmond, and he very easily let you all in when you approached.
You held your breath when you finally entered. The guys sat in their respective cubby holes sullenly, elbows on knees, heads in their hands.
You’d seen this before at Roy’s last game. Silence even deeper than when you both sat in the Dogtrack locker room alone littered the air at Wembley. You could only imagine what the guys were feeling, like history was repeating itself on so many levels for the team.
You caught eyes with Jamie first. He looked broken.
Rebecca and Keeley headed towards the coaches, but you felt stuck in place by the door, frozen by the sad atmosphere in the room.
Roy saw you before you saw him. He strolled over slowly and reached out to grab your forearm. “Hey,” he said softly.
You flashed back to reality and gazed up at him. “Hey.” Quickly, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders tightly. He clutched you back strongly, and you knew that he’d been needing a hug with the same fervour as yours.
You didn’t need to say you were sorry. He’d probably heard it enough already. He knew you felt the sting of a loss this big just as much as he did.
When you went to pull away, he squeezed you tighter. Evidently, he wasn’t done just yet.
“Well, guys,” Ted said to the room. Roy finally tugged away, but he kept a firm grasp around your waist as the two of you turned to listen to Ted’s address. “We lost. You don’t need me or anyone else to say it, because the look on your faces says it all.” Ted’s southern drawl felt like therapy. Within seconds, the team felt acknowledged, and that was all that mattered. “We all knew this was going to be tough, and for just a moment I want you all to forget the score, forget the goals and whatever else, and just think of how you all played like a proper team.”
Ted had a way with words that you knew was the main reason his career was so vast. You didn’t know a thing about American football, but you knew that Ted was a stellar coach whether it was football or soccer in his eyes.
“You played as a team today,” Ted continued. “And sure, you’re allowed to be sad about the outcome, I’m not about to tell you you can’t feel that sting, but—.” Roy squeezed your waist. You wondered if he was doing it subconsciously. “But you all need to know that you were a unit today. One that has got us up through these ranks and back on the radar of the Premier League, even if the FA Cup wasn’t ours this time around.”
His words settled over the room and brought back a sense of self to all the players. Next to you, Roy breathed out softly and in understanding. You could feel the tension within him dissipate ever so slightly.
And then, that all went away.
“Knock knock!” a voice sounded from the door to the locker room. A second later, a face you didn’t recognise turned the corner and into the room. “Awh no, sorry for the loss, lads,” he said, as your eyes darted quickly around the room, trying to find any semblance of familiarity. You found it in Jamie’s eyes instantly. “Though, not fully sorry. Because Man City fuckin’ won!” His Mancunian accent reverberated throughout the room.
You understood immediately, as you watched Jamie’s hands ball into fists. The rest of the team stayed back, as if glued to their cubbies. This was Jamie’s father. It had to be.
Jamie’s dad pottered further into the room, towards his son. Jamie stood up as he did, sucking a deep breath into his tired lungs. “My boy, my boy. You bottled it didn’t ya?”
Your entire body tensed as everyone observed, not saying a word. Jamie’s dad only kept coming, not paying any mind to the other players in the room. Roy’s grip on your waist tightened suddenly, as if he could feel your anxiety rising. You could feel the same from him; every muscle in his body tried desperately to hold back.
Jamie’s father lunged towards his son’s face, so close that Jamie couldn’t look anywhere else. “You hear me, boy? You fuckin’ bottled it, didn’t ya?” he repeated.
“Don’t speak to me that way,” Jamie said quickly, seething.
“Wha?” his father faked not hearing him, getting even closer.
“Do not speak to me that way,” Jamie repeated. His father looked up to his face, catching his eye lethally.
Your gut lurched as his father kept going, kept repeating wha?, kept getting closer and closer to his boy’s face. This was vile, and you could hardly believe no one was doing anything.
“Wanna say that to me again, boy?”
Jamie stood his ground, puffing out his chest to be bigger, straightening out his spine to be taller, and better, and whatever else he hadn’t learned from his shit-bag of a father.
“Huh?” he said again, louder. “Huh!” he exclaimed. Alongside his voice, his hands bombarded into Jamie’s chest– hard.
Something within you snapped. Your chest compressed, your intestines warped, and your legs started moving. Roy’s grip disappeared from around your waist as you rushed forward, not giving a shit about the audience, or about the guys, or about Nate. Nate, who was standing behind Ted and Beard, saying and doing nothing.
Inside, you stopped caring. You didn’t give a fuck if he hated you being around, you didn’t give a fuck if you’d get in trouble from this outburst, but you had to do something– anything. Jamie Tartt was being publicly abused by his father in front of your eyes, and you couldn’t fucking stand it.
Maybe this is what Roy meant. You were the glue. You kept everyone together, you brought Roy back to the team. Maybe this is what you’d always been meant to do– protect these boys from whatever you fucking could, when they weren’t able to for themselves.
As Jamie recovered, ready to strike, you were already one step ahead. In a fraction of a second, you were already beside his father, fist raised. When your knuckles hit his skin, you finally came back into the room. There were two crashes; one from the impact of your fist on his father’s cheekbone; the second from him hitting the floor unceremoniously.
Quickly, Beard approached you and hoisted Jamie’s dad up by his armpits. The two of them backed out of the door, clambering over stray shoes and shirts and whatever else that lay on the floor. Without any warning, two large arms wrapped around you from behind and pulled you off the ground. You knew it was Roy as soon as you smelled his cologne. You smiled inappropriately, and then you chuckled to yourself deviously.
You’d just punched Jamie’s piece of shit dad in the fucking face.
And it felt fantastic.
Clatters sounded from the outside corridor. Beard breathed heavily as he made his way back into the locker room, and the door slammed loudly behind him. The air felt heavy as eyes darted around the room. The guys looked at each other, then to Beard, then to you. Roy still held you tightly, dangling you above the ground as you tried your damned hardest not to burst into laughter.
You couldn’t feel your hand. Your knuckles were red when you dropped your gaze to look. Your hand shook, finger bones stuck in place as they contemplated what their owner had just done– thrown a punch for the first time in her fucking life, and very haphazardly at that.
When Jamie looked over to you, Roy finally dropped you to the floor. He leaned in close to your face, surveying your eyes suddenly. This was a look you’d never seen from him; fear. Roy Kent wasn’t one to be afraid, but the way his eyes poured into your own had your chest crumpling beneath your skin. He was worried– he was frightened– for you.
“You ok?” he whispered.
You nodded quickly. “I’m not the one you need to be asking that to.” Your gaze moved over to Jamie in a heartbeat.
Roy stood up straight once more, puffing out his chest as he inhaled a deep, shuddering breath. He started walking without warning, fists balled, towards the Richmond striker. Everyone held their breath, knowing that him and Jamie together were not a good combination. You, however, smiled to yourself without question.
When Roy reached Jamie, he wrapped his arms around him immediately. Coach and player hugged in silence, as the gravity of what Jamie’s father had just done stuck to every wall in the room. He needed this– hands on help, a real show of love and affection.
You were happy that Roy was the one to breach contact. That’s exactly what Jamie had needed.
“You ok?” Roy asked him, pulling away from the embrace.
Jamie breathed out slowly. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“It’s not me you should be thanking,” Roy muttered.
Both men turned back to face you. You held your wrist with care, not wanting to jolt your now fucked up hand. You smiled at the two of them knowingly, as everything settled back into place.
Behind you, Nathan Shelley grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. On the way out of the locker room, he rushed past you harshly. You yelped to yourself as he pushed into you, jolting your wrist painfully. He stopped before you for just a second; he smiled. Your heart skipped a beat.
“Watch yourself there,” he said, in some kind of fake honey-toned pitch. Then, he turned on his heels and left the locker room as fast as he’d bumped into you.
Another threat. What a fucking joke.
Your face soured immediately, you couldn’t help it. Inside your head, you imagined a world where you’d told Roy all that Nate had put you through recently. You could see it clearly– his whole body would tense, his fists would ball, his nostrils would flare, and he’d yell I’ll show that little fucker!
Deeper within the indulgent part of your mind, he kissed you passionately before he went to confront Nate on your behalf. You swallowed quickly, trying to pat away those thoughts from the unexplored crevices of your mind. It was futile. Besides, you knew you still couldn’t tell Roy about Nate’s behaviour, for the sake of the team.
One day, rest assured, you would. When Nate left Richmond, or something else happened to change things around here, that’s when you’d lay it all out for him.
You were counting down the days.
“Hey,” Roy said, alerting you back into the room once more. Stood before you, he looked down at your hand. His brows furrowed. “Hm,” he growled gently.
“It’s fine,” you lied.
Softly, Roy laid his fingers atop your red knuckles. A sharp pain bombarded through your flesh instantly, forcing you to suck in a gasp. The pain spread to the rest of your hand, down your fingers, and twinged into your wrist. You couldn’t help it– you had to scream. “Motherfucker!”
“Just as I thought,” Roy said. “You’ve fractured the shit out of your hand.”
You squirmed on the spot, trying desperately to alleviate the pain you felt. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you rattled off, purely as a way to expel what you felt.
“Come on.” Roy bent down to the floor and picked up your bag, slinging it over his shoulder. “Let’s go to the physio.” You hardly heard him, too focused on your hand. Roy gently wrapped his arm around your shoulders, leading you out of the room. “See you in a bit, lads!” he exclaimed to the room.
The two of you turned into the empty corridor ay Wembley, walking slowly as you tried to hold onto the last of your composure.
“God,” you hissed. “Why the fuck did I punch Jamie’s dad?”
“Because someone had to,” Roy replied. “And besides.” He glanced at you unknowingly, as you remained preoccupied on your self-inflicted injury. “It was fucking hot.”
You groaned immensely, dropping your head onto Roy’s shoulder. “It doesn’t fucking feel like it,” you whined. Roy couldn’t help but smile.
“Oh, believe me,” he said lowly, indulging in you being this close to him. “It was.”
Roy held you all the way to the physio. Secretly, he’d never been happier that you’d decided to be so reckless. Perhaps, he thought, he was rubbing off on you just as much as you’d changed him for the better.
Tag list: @atjamesbbarnes @20th-centu-fairy-girl @royalestrellas @weakmoony-stuff @ironmanmagnetfridge @lemonpiegurll @hellomagicalsouls @her-fandom-sanctum @gothicwidowsworld @old-enough-to-know-better73 @djarindroid @afraidofshrimp @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @queen-of-dumbasses @sogoodtoheritsvicious @lznnph1l @crav1ngc4ke @onceuponaoneshot @jamieolivia27 @dadbodfanatic-x @kelp-dreaming @harrypedro465 @lonely-escape-artist @abeeabeeabee @nicklet94 @libsybum @cha0sdreaming @toomany24s @kashee-h @infinetlyforgotten @secretnook @cluelesslilsharkie @callmecasey81 @deepdarkvelvet @twiceinabluemoon @cardeegans @golden-hoax @kingleahhh @hoalkk1 @sunderland-6 @ellouisa17 @thesestrangerslikeme @elissaaa @scrumptiousroadponymoney @confessionsofatotaldramaslut @ysmmsy @seacactusplant @pedritosgirl2000 @loveslide @ryleyrooroo @hanybunch @tweasley20 @witchyanya-7 @sareim123122 @jaymum @lwritesstuff @kravitzwhore @preciousbabypeter @blue-bujo @dark-academia-slut @imsupposedtohaveaname @tigolebittiez @strawberry07cake @eugene-emt-roe @dd122004dd @marjorieisreading @kissmekent @trashcanfullofdork @rmwarn90 @nerdgirljen @secretsicanthideanymore @sortzz @a-asterias
#roy kent x reader#roy kent x you#second person#ted lasso#fanfiction#ted lasso ff#roy kent ff#brett goldstein#ao3#wattpad#x reader#reader insert#angst#slow burn#update#lightyaers#writeblr#romance#fluff#enemies to friends to lovers#chapter#archive of our own#take care fic
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˚☽˚.⋆ introduction
Hello, we are the Turtle System! We created this account for the sake of connecting with others with shared interests and mental health conditions! You can expect mental health, Marvel/LOTR, and SFW agere posts.
We have a horde of mental disorders, but we talk about our autism and DID on here most often (privileged to have a diagnosis)! We ask that you take this into consideration when interacting with us. Tone indicators and direct communication are highly appreciated!
Collectively, we identify as a man and use he/him. Individual alters may go by different pronouns, but please specify that you’re referring to those alters specifically. We use the terms alters, parts, and headmates. We refer to ourselves both as a system and a collective.
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Our Interests
The interests that are bolded are the ones we are most excited to talk about.
Media:
Marvel
Tolkien
Star Wars
Mulan 1998
Fullmetal Alchemist
Death Note
Creepypasta
Pokemon
Academics:
Science (specific types: biology, astronomy, nuclear)
Linguistics
History
Video Games:
Stardew Valley
The Legend of Zelda
Omori
Animal Crossing
Minecraft
Horror Games
Hades
Friday Night Funkin
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Group 1: Gamma Subsystem
We are a collection of parts that frequently fuse into the singular identity of YJ. We mostly sign off our posts with (- YJ). We also formed at the same time, from the same alter (YJ)!
How YJ Presents
🐸; YJ
he/him ♂
ANP
teenager (17)
INFJ 4w5
weird guy
fun fact: aspiring visdev illustrator ! busy with college applications :,)
The Crew
Most of us are preexisting, brainmade parts that adopted the names of people with similar personalities as us (our kins) in our special interests. Are we fictives? More like alters who latched onto fictional characters because of how represented they feel by them…
🧬; Bruce (Marvel)
he/him ♂
wide age range (teenager, adult)
inner world manager, rationalizer (logic), fact checker, academic host
🍃; Legolas/Maple (LOTR)
he/leaf (masculine-adjacent)
minor of unspecified age
sensory processor, empathy holder
🌌; Luke (Star Wars)
he/him ♂
minor of unspecified age
crafter (artist), inner world architect
human
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Group 2: Caretaker Team
We are a collection of alters that perform very similar functions despite existing independently. We formed at around the same time.
🐻; Spencer
he/him ♂
caretaker, former protector, introjected from various sources
adult
human
hobbies: reading, culinary arts, planning for the future in a non-anxious manner
fun fact: I love rainbow trout! 😊
🦀; June
he/him ♂
teenager
factive of a big celebrity role model
hobbies: writing, talking to our friends 😆
fun fact: :3
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Individuals
Frequent Fronters
🚨; Arlo
they/he/xe (genderflux)
social protector, anger holder
teenager
ENTP 8w7
hobbies: doodling, surfing the Internet, writing, video games
fun fact: I dislike the smell of cheese
🏙️; Clark (DC)
he/him ♂
mood booster, socializer (I front when the body is dealing with…certain people, because I can tolerate them)
identifies closely Clark Kent ! we’re not even into DC (yet), and I’m very separate from my “source” (I wouldn’t even call it my source, I’m very disconnected from the actual Clark Kent, I literally just have the personality traits and I existed prior)…
teenager (18)
hobbies: making poorly drawn comics
fun fact: none that I can think of!
Less Frequent Fronters
🪽; Stephàn
he/it ♂
adult (200)
nonhuman (angel)
gatekeeper
hobbies: listening to rap music(?)
fun fact: this is the dollar store, how good can it be /ref
🫖; Vera
prefers no pronouns used, but they/it is okay; agender
adult
nonhuman
hobbies: laying down
fun fact: none
👺; Matt
he/him ♂
adult (21)
human
doesn’t fully front, mostly co-conscious or spectating
hobbies: 🤔
fun fact: 🤔
Younger Headmates
🐳; William
he/him ♂
hobbies: arts and crafts, watching cartoons, accumulating stuffed animals, sleeping, building LEGO stuff
fun fact: i like fish talk to me about fish please talk to me about fish
👽; Mace
he/xe ♂
nonhuman (gray alien)
hobbies: drawing
fun fact: I wish I had cool electricity superpowers
🐶; Logan
he/him ♂
nonhuman (puppy)
hobbies: swinging on the swings and exploring outside!
fun fact: either way too hyper or way too sleepy, no in-between
🍡🍮; Others (Chloe, Argyle)
not interested in this platform or not allowed
We have other headmates, but they may not appear on this platform.
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Interactions
Anyone is welcome to interact with our posts in a respectful manner! However, we recognize that we cannot control who sees our posts (and how they respond). Still, we hope that our boundaries will be respected.
Please do not reach out to us if you are any of the following:
Support bigotry of any kind (racism, homophobia, transphobia, ableism, antisemitism, etc.)
Believe in cringe culture and online bullying (different from criticism, which is productive; bullying is only harmful :()
Support the actions of the state of Israel against the Palestinian people (we stand for the establishment of a free Palestinian state)
Trump supporters, right-wing, etc.
Are purely here to argue/change any of our beliefs; this is not the space for that! We appreciate criticism, but we would like for it to be done in a manner that is meant to help us grow and learn as people rather than for it to be delivered in a manner meant to demotivate us/reduce our self-esteem.
Are a pro-shipper; we won't send hate, but please do not contact us directly or follow our page!
AI “artists”
If you fall under these categories, we feel comfortable if you interact with our posts as long as it’s kept to likes or silent reblogs! Again, this is just a request from an internet stranger, but know that we would appreciate having our boundaries respected to ensure a comfortable time on the internet.
Additionally, if you fall under these categories and we interact with one of your posts, we ask that you either ignore us or reach out to us to let us know which post it is that we interacted with! We’d be happy to delete. The same goes for if we fall under your DNI list; we ask to either be ignored or informed of our presence, so that we can delete whatever interaction we gave! We try to keep track of people’s DNI lists to see who would be comfortable with direct interaction (such as comments or asks) from us, but we ask that you understand that we might accidentally miss that DNI criteria or forget to check!
We won't talk much about syscourse on here. Syscourse-focused blogs are welcomed here, but we might not interact all the time with those kinds of posts if we follow back.
Our syscourse stance is complicated! We go by the information that childhood trauma is necessary to form systems in the medical sense. Dissociative disorders are fundamentally descriptors a specific criteria of symptoms. As for plurality outside of dissociative disorders (such as feeling “born” as multiple people, feeling that one “became” plural over time, etc), it is not our place to deny those experiences. However, we believe that plurals whose parts originate from non-trauma related sources should use different entirely language to describe what they are going through.
Ultimately, discussion about the nuances of plurality/systemhood are bound to be tough, which in itself is proof that dissociative disorders are inherently linked to trauma. We aren’t here to argue with others or prove a point; rather, just to hang out and talk about things that interest us. :]
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Conclusion
Our askbox and DMs are open. You are more than welcome to introduce yourself in response to this post, too! Friends are very welcome! We also have a sideblog exclusively for fanfiction that we post: @turtlesystemwrites
Thank you for your time!
🐢 Turtle System
#did system#did community#did alter#did#did osdd#osddid#osdd system#neurodivergent#asd#autism#queer#sysblr#plurality#intro#introduction#dissociative identity disorder#dissociative system#dissociation#dissociative identities#traumagenic system#traumagenic did#age regression#sfw agere#agere community#chill vibes#make friends#dms open#sys blog#system things#system stuff
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If you had the opportunity to have some voice actors casted for your iterations of Lois, Clark, Jimmy, Connor, Lex, Livewire, Rudy, and Brainiac (Basically the superman characters you've remixed so far) who would be perfect casting for each?
OOH YES here's some fancasts for my remix:
David Corenswet as Clark Kent! This is a really hard pick for me, I'm attached to Tim Daly's STAS voice for him but if I had to pick someone younger I guess this David Corenswet guy from the upcoming film looks pretty good? At least from clips I've seen of him he's got a good voice.
Brianne Tju as Lois Liando! She's a Chinese Indonesian actress and while she's young I think she's got the range. I'd love to see her twist on Dana Delaney's STAS performance because Delaney's got a fantastic hardened sassy woman voice. Tju's voice sounds great in this interview.
Haley Tju as Lucy Lane! Brianne has a sister which is PERFECT for Lois' sister Lucy! I heard Hayley's voice in Arlo the Alligator Boy as the tiger cat character and I think she sounds neat.
Michael J Woodard as Jimmy Olsen! Similarly as Haley I heard Woodard's voice on Arlo the Alligator Boy, he's the lead there as Arlo. His voice is high energy and fun! Plus he can SING which is great because I imagine Jimmy as a jack of all trades artist and shenanigans coupled with musical numbers would be perfection.
Dave Fennoy as Lex Luthor! This is locked and loaded for me. It frustrates me that no one has seen the vision here. This is the second coming of STAS Lex but BETTER. Just!! Listen to him as Bluebeard from the Wolf Among Us. This is phenomenal, the perfect voice already exists.
Toks Olagundoye as Lena Luthor! She's voiced Martha Wayne in Batman Unburied, and Cat Grant in Reign of Supermen among many roles. She'd bring the elegance Lena would need. I love her accent,,,
Donald Glover as Conner Kent/Luthor! Granted I would love a teen that can bring what he brought to Marshall Lee on Adventure Time but that performance is the Conner energy I want.
Gr33dyjay/Jhas Ean Prescott Corbitt as Rudy Jones/Parasite! While I love the Brion James' STAS voice for Parasite, I have become attached to Gr33dyjay's take on my version of Parasite. If you can bring a performance that can make me laugh like that, you're golden. If he brought just a bit of New York accent into it, even better.
ProZD/Sungwon Cho and Ellen McLain as Brainiac! I want these two to talk interchangeably and in synchronization for Brainiac. Cho serving Brau1589 realness and McLain bringing the GlaDOS good stuff. Heaven would open its gates if we ever heard a Brainiac voice like this, I believe that.
Nicole Sullivan as Livewire! This one is so, so difficult because the original Lori Petty voice for Livewire is essentially perfection. I think future takes need to find a distinct and youtuber bombastic charismatic voice for making a potentially unlikeable character fun to watch. Sullivan famously voices Shego on Kim Possible, and I think her voice has the uniqueness and sass that could revitalize Livewire. She just needs to do a version of the accent and energy.
AJ Michalka as Kara Zor El! I know Michalka's voice as Stevonnie on Steven Universe and Catra from She-Ra. I like her performance in both, it stands out and the lil rasp in her voice adds something. That gives Kara that kind of jaded world weary but still young voice. I know I haven't drawn Supergirl yet, but I've got plans.
Thanks for this ask! While I'm not familiar with tinsel town people in general, this was like a fun scavenger hunt, haha.
#askjesncin#if any of you say michelle yeoh for Ella Lane (Lois' mom) I'll beat you up. absolutely not#you'll notice STAS voices bias because the voice actors there are SO peak#the MAWS voice actors are terrible I'll say it. Did not think I would find Clark's voice grating but I did#MAWS has very uninspired choices for the rogues voice actors especially
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Arlo White: Lasso has been really turning his performance around these last few matches. After another another goal assist, he’s running in victory towards the stands after a passing high five with Kent. Odd reaction from the usually team oriented player.
Chris Powell: Maybe he’s looking for someone special in the stands, Arlo.
insp by my beloved Jay @bahoreal’s Lasso 7
#HES LOOKING FOR TRENT#idk if they comment on the players celebration but I also don’t care#this is my narrative#also thanks to the discord for helping me remember Chris’ name lmao#I only remembered Arlo cuz Chris says his name so much when he talks lol#btw don’t look in the background for Trent he’s not there#this is just a prelude to a future drawing#sketch.art#tedtrent#tedependent#ted lasso fanart#tl fanart
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Richmond Boys play Mafia
https://ift.tt/v8EqWGV by Madeline_Tess The first notion of the idea came about when Phoebe told Keeley about her day at school during their Girls Night Staying In. From time to time Keeley would kick her boys out of the house to have some girl time with Phoebe, sometimes inviting Rebecca who in turn sometimes brought along Nora or the daughter of the Dutchman she began seeing last year. Not that time though. That night it was just the two of them, eating gummy bears, painting their nails, and gossipping about everything and anything. At one point Pheebs started excitedly going on about a new teacher at school who introduced the whole class to a new game called Mafia. Apparently it was a hit, and everyone had so much fun. Or, Keeley Jones running a Board Game Night for the Richmond FC and having the boys play a game of Mafia. Words: 8503, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Ted Lasso (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen Characters: Keeley Jones, Roy Kent, Jamie Tartt, Richard Montlaur, Jan Maas, Paul Reynolds (Ted Lasso), Tom O'Brien, Bhargava (Ted Lasso), Arlo Dixon, Tommy Winchester, Sasha Kukoč, Isaac McAdoo, Colin Hughes, Dani Rojas (Ted Lasso), Robbie Roberts (Ted Lasso), Jeff Goodman (Ted Lasso), Babatunde (Ted Lasso), Declan Cockburn, Moe Bumbercatch, Martin de Maat (Ted Lasso), Sam Obisanya, Kyle McCracken, Anders Rosenfeldt, Thierry Zoreaux Relationships: Keeley Jones/Roy Kent/Jamie Tartt, Jan Maas/Richard Montlaur, Tom O'Brien/Paul Reynolds Additional Tags: AFC Richmond Football Team (Ted Lasso), AFC Richmond as Found Family, richmond boys shennanigans, Team Bonding, Mafia party game, For some of the ships you gotta squint, but they are there i promise, Keeley Jones Being Awesome, Not Britpicked source https://archiveofourown.org/works/59399929 October 03, 2024 at 01:56AM
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hello! what’s the ROs mbti type?
kai d'melio : ISTJ
shiron hill : ENTP
victor/ia alvarez : INTJ
alexis sinclair : ENFP
river fox : ISFP
arlo kent : INFP
#answered#shiron “shay” hill#kai d'melio#victor/ia “vic” alvarez#alexis “alex” sinclair#river fox#arlo kent#queued
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Ted Lasso Players by (Approx) Ages youngest to oldest (for season 1, “It’s 2020, babe. Women can do anything”.)
Kukoč & Sam (20)
Jamie (23)
Arlo & Isaac & Moe & Tommy (24)
Colin & Dani & Tom (25)
Richard & Jack & Declan (26)
Robbie & Thierry (27)
Jeff & Ugo (28)
Jan (28)
Gareth (28.5)
Paul (29)
Roy (38)
Special Mention nonplayer Will Kitman (23)
#ted lasso#kukoč#sam obisanya#jamie tartt#arlo dixon#tommy winchester#isaac mcadoo#moe bumbercatch#tom o'brien#colin hughes#dani rojas#richard montlaur#jack dawkins#declan cockburn#jan maas#robbie roberts#thierry zoreaux#jeff goodman#babatunde#gareth canterbury#paul reynolds#roy kent
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Please enjoy the ficlet @theoriginalvelocipastor just wrote on Discord I‘m still laughing
„I must say, Arlo, Richmond has been doing *extremely* well as of late! There's a different vibe on the team, and Jamie Tartt has been on fire! He talked about the Roy Kent effect - think he's getting one on one training from the legend himself?“
After the match, a journalist: „Jamie, can you tell us about the Roy Kent effect?“
Jamie: „Well it‘s not really curved, it‘s just a thing he does with his hips, you know.“
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Random Headcanon for every named member of AFC Richmond.
GO!!
OKAY LETS DO THIS
Alexander - retired after season 1
Anders Rosenfeldt - Sasha Kukoč's best friend
Arlo Dixon - body image issues
Bekoe - transferred after s1
Bhargava - has no plans to ever leave the uk
Bockronde - also retired after s1
Colin Hughes - has like 800 Spotify playlists but they all have the same 10 songs in them and sound exactly the same to everyone but him
Dani Rojas - cooking for his girlfriends is his love language
Declan Cockburn - believes he's more fashionable than Isaac
Gareth Canterbury - plans on becoming a gaffer when he retires
Garron - left Richmond bc of an injury
Garvey- hated getting confused with Garron
Isaac Mcadoo - loves reading but doesn't read much fiction
Jack Dawkins - loves trick shots
Jamie Tartt - sleeps with a night light
Jan Maas - cuts his own hair, much to Isaac's anger
Jeff Goodman - Arlo Dixons best friend
Kyle McCracken - has had every STI "except the big one"
Martin De Maat - was starting goal before Tom took over and then Thierry and left Richmond to go to a club that would start him
Moe Bumbercatch - has so many math/puzzle games on his phone
Paul Reynolds - won't let anyone on the team babysit his daughter
Richard Montlaur - matches his socks to his outfits
Robbie Roberts - so so many hobbies
Roy Kent - is in a book club
Sagredoe - color blind
Sam Obisanya - doesn't drink much alcohol
Sasha Kukoč - did not learn how to style his own hair until he was in his 20s
Snape - hates Harry Potter references
Thierry Zoreaux - for a Canadian, gets cold often
Tom O'Brien - has been caught having sex at the dog track
Tommy Winchester - loves meditating and got so excited when the team started meditation with Zava
Tyler Shannon - got in trouble for bringing his phone onto the bench during a match
Ugo Babatunde - Kyle McCracken reluctant best friend
Zava - uses a lot of buzzwords he doesn't know the definition of
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afc richmond: a guide to the premier league underdogs (contains spoilers of the season 3 finale of ted lasso)
from https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/AFC_Richmond
AFC Richmond is an English professional football club based in Richmond, West London. Founded in 1897, they play their home games at Nelson Road Stadium. The club competes in the Premier League, the top division of English football. The club has never won a major trophy.
Full name: AFC Richmond Nickname(s): The Greyhounds Founded: 1897; 125 years ago Ground: Nelson Road Capacity: 25,486 Owner: Rebecca Welton (51%), Richmond fans (49%) Chairman: Leslie Higgins Manager: Roy Kent League: Premier League 2021-22: Premier League, 2nd of 20
Richmond’s history has been notoriously mediocre. They were the last London club to make their Wembley Stadium debut (on April 18, 2021, for the 2021 FA Cup semifinals, against Manchester City). Formerly owned by Rupert Mannion, and (for a short time) Freddie Mercury, and formerly managed by George Cartrick and Ted Lasso, Richmond’s luck has truly turned around since 2019-20, when they were relegated to the EFL Championship. During that 2019 season, ownership changed hands from longterm owner Rupert Mannion, who had owned Richmond since 1987, to his now ex-wife, Rebecca Welton, after a divorce from a marriage in which Mannion cheated on Welton multiple times with multiple women. After Welton's acquisition of the club in January 2020, she hired American NCAA Division II football coach Ted Lasso to be the new manager of AFC Richmond. Lasso's extraordinary lack of knowledge of the game, despite assistance from another American coach, Coach Willis Beard, led to Richmond's relegation.
In the 2020-21 season, their first full season under the management of Ted Lasso, they earned second in the Championship and were therefore promoted back to the Premiership. They also made it to the semifinals of the FA Cup, the furthest Richmond has ever been in that competition.
In 2021-22, Richmond was predicted by literally every pundit who spoke on English football to finish 20th of 20 in the Premier League, and, therefore, be relegated once again. Statistically, it's likely that teams that earn their promotions get relegated again the very next year. But Lasso and his Greyhounds had things to say about that. After a 1-1 tie against Chelsea at Stamford Bridge, legendary striker Zava joined Richmond, spurring the Greyhounds on a 5-game winning streak. It was week 6 of the season, and Richmond was in third place on the table. Their fate had seemingly turned around off the foot of Zava. But, after a devastating loss against West Ham (now owned by Rupert Mannion and managed by Nathan Shelley, formerly Richmond's kit man), they went 7 weeks without a win. When Zava retired in the middle of the season, Richmond went their 8th week without a win, and many people were considering Lasso's capabilities as manager. Those doubts continued through Richmond going to Amsterdam to play a friendly against AFC Ajax, that Richmond lost 5-0. But, upon their return to England and the Premier League, Richmond started playing with a new strategy - total football. Their first match against Arsenal also resulted in a loss, but Richmond was showing signs of life for the first time in months. Richmond ended the season on a 17-game winning streak (the longest streak in Richmond's history), earning second in the Premier League and promotion to the Champions League.
2021-22 starting xi:
14 - dani rojas (mexico, striker) 9 - jamie tartt (england, centre attacking midfield/striker) 12 - colin hughes (wales, left wing) 8 - richard montlaur (france, midfield) 21 - moe bumbercatch (switzerland, midfield) 24 - sam obisanya (nigeria, right wing) 2 - arlo dixon (england, right wing back) 13 - jan maas (netherlands, centre back) 5 - isaac mcadoo (england, centre back), captain 17 - jeff goodman (england, left wing back) 81 - thierry zoreaux (canada, keeper)
terms to know: gaffer: manager - formerly george cartrick, ted lasso, currently roy kent skipper: captain - formerly roy kent, currently isaac mcadoo
#personal blogs i am begging you to leave this alone#anyways if your character knows football they probably know at least the bare minimum about richmond !!!#im gonna add more to this later but my brain stopped thinking thoughts
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