#beginning of movies. that being said it was a theatres thing and not a home releases thing in the uk india etc
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leroibobo · 11 months ago
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during its apartheid years, south africa had one of the strictest media controls in the world. this extended into homes when television was introduced in the country in 1977 (which the government had delayed until that year due to fears of "undue influence"), and when home video came along with it. each videotape that was legally distributed during these years was required to have a notice in the official languages of english and afrikaans that it complied with media censorship laws codified years prior.
(the model for the certificate was likely influenced by the british board of film classification's. by the beginning of the 20th century, the british had brought the template with them to south africa and other former colonies such as india. south africa was probably the only country to use it on home releases.)
this meant that south africans who watched "legal" videotaped movies not only had to sit through commercials and a standard-issue anti-piracy warning, but a federal confirmation that the film didn't feature an interracial couple, among many other things. the total time for the two warnings could reach up to two minutes long - for comparison, the chorus of "oops i did it again" by britney spears is twenty seconds long - but some were rushed through.
this example was taken from a tape of disney's snow white and the seven dwarfs published in 1994, the year apartheid ended. the media censorship laws which required the certificate would be overhauled two years later, though video openings remained similar for a while after.
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victory-cookies · 2 years ago
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three months into summer break and I’m struck with a crippling loneliness. the things I deal with to not do school for five months a year I stg
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undreaming-fanfiction · 10 months ago
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Thinking of a modern AU when the kids get to be kids after it's all over and they go to the movies, they play games, hang out, all that. And of course, Steve drives them everywhere. He vouches for them in front of their parents, watches them like a hawk, tries to tell them about the adult stuff he's learned so far and chases Robin and Nancy to give them info on uni application and the things he feels he's too dumb for. Still, when Robin and Nancy are away and one of his kids needs something, he'll grab that legal document and either stare at it long enough to get a migraine or begins hounding the smart people who stayed in Hawkins (Mr. Clarke is Steve's go-to person and Mr. Clarke won't say it, but he's so proud of Harrington's progress).
So, Steve's life is basically nonstop work and babysitting (with lots of complaints and grumbling from the teens), they ask him to drive them somewhere and he'll bitch about it, sure, but he will get up after 4 hours of sleep and do it anyways. Dustin often reprimands Steve for not taking care of his health, but he doesn't see why.
When Encanto comes out, El really, really wants to see it, and how can Steve say no to her? He drives the whole gang to the movie theatre (some of them stacked on top of each other, some in the trunk on a pile of blankets) and decides to join them. He doesn't really like animated stuff, but Robin loves these movies and he wants yet another reason to call her and talk through the night.
He didn't expect to enjoy the movie so much, but it's colorful and catchy. The songs are nice and the characters are relatable. He makes a lot of mental notes to discuss with Robin. He thinks she will love Mirabel.
And then "Surface Pressure" starts playing and Steve wonders why he suddenly feels like crying. "I'm pretty sure I'm worthless if I can't be of service" hits especially hard. He's just sitting there and feeling incredibly stupid for tearing up at flying glitter-covered donkeys.
When they leave the movie theater, everyone is pretty excited and discussing which characters and songs they liked the most (even if some feel like rolling their eyes at a kids' movie, El's excitement stops them from doing that). They all start discussing to who they relate the most, El feels with Mirabel for being left out and different, even if she actually is the only one who has a gift, Will dares to utter that he really sympathizes with Dolores, Dustin loves Bruno for trying to fix the cracks in Casita.
And then they turn to Steve and someone makes a jab at him, saying he resembles Mariano the most. Steve is ready to shrug it off, there's some truth in that with what happened to his relationship with Nancy, but El just shakes her head and says: "No. Steve is our Luisa."
Everyone goes silent. There's a lot of hmmming and "well, he did get up to drive us when he had a night shift..." and "we could have just biked...". Steve tries to make them feel better about it, joking that he really has nothing better to do, but the drive home is full of whispering, and the party actually diligently thank him when they leave his car.
The next day is Sunday and Steve is ready for his usual routine, making himself busy until someone needs something. But there's a knock on the door to his small apartment and when he opens it, he sees his group of kids, proudly presenting a tray of muffins and two cartons of orange juice.
Out of all of them, it's Mike who speaks up. "Nancy said you often forget to eat breakfast," he states in his usual annoyed tone. "She also said that you like chocolate muffins, so we are here to ensure you don't die from hunger. Now move, I'll get the glasses and plates."
Steve just watches in awe as they swarm his flat, Will smiling at him and producing a DVD of the latest Spider-man movie. "This one was a tip from Robin, she says you haven't seen it yet."
Max is standing in the kitchenette with her cane, watching the pile of meds Steve has to take after his injuries with disdain. "This has to take forever for you to find what you need. Don't argue, I remember how shitty it was for me. Let me help you build a chart and thank me later."
El and Lucas are rearranging Steve's couch and placing pillows in front of the TV so everyone can sit comfortably. El also ensures the blinds are closed so Steve's eyes don't have to fight against the light.
And if that all wasn't more care than Steve has known in years, Dustin grabs his elbow and sits him down, threatening him with violence if he even thinks about working on Sunday.
As the opening titles start, Steve is surrounded by six teenagers in his tiny and cheap flat, chewing on a subpar muffin with an orange juice that probably never saw the actual fruit, and he thinks that there's no greater happiness than this.
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jeanie-g · 19 days ago
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For the Spotify wrapped fic thingie: number 4 with NicoJack (obviously hehe 🤭). Please and thank you 🩵
we have our second charli song! this one is from her lockdown album, and really captures that cabin fever feeling we're all familiar with.... (so tw for mentions of covid if that's something anyone wants to avoid)
[#4] anthems (Charli xcx)
Have sex, me and my Romeo / He says I'm irresistible / I'm gassed up like a Texaco / I ride (x10) it / Sometimes I feel okay, some days I'm so frightened
• If Jack had a nickel for every time his sophomore year in the NHL was put to a halt because of a worldwide pandemic, he'd only have one nickel—but that's one too many for his liking.
• He was just starting to get in a groove, too—well, he considered a point at least once a week as a groove compared to the clusterfuck of a season last year. But now everything's shut down, and they have to stay home, and Jack can't even go to the gym. It's making him go just a tiny bit crazy.
• With all that being said, Nico's been an awfully good distraction. No one was allowed to visit each other in the beginning, when the news from the WHO dropped, and scientists and doctors—along with the general public—were learning new things every hour. Nico started coming over so Jack wouldn't be so alone. They lived in the same apartment complex, after all, and it was nice having some company. This whole thing would blow over soon enough, surely.
• But days turned into weeks. Several weeks. Once the league officially ended the season early, it became clear that this was gonna be the new norm for a while. Fauci started talking about "pods" and all that, but flights home were hard to come by, so Jack stayed put and spent more and more time with Nico. They were living in each other's pockets; they split the cost of groceries and Nico crashed on the couch when they'd gotten carried away playing COD late hours into the night.
• And when you're amidst a global lockdown, unemployed, frustrated, and horny as all hell, discoveries end up being made. It didn't take long for Jack to catch Nico giving him sidelong glances, for their hands to brush when they walked by each other in the hall.
• The other shoe dropped while they were watching the new Pixar movie that skipped theatres and went straight to streaming. It was so easy. Nico's hand fell on his hip while they sat on the couch, and Jack looked over. And like a collapsing deck of cards, it moved so quickly after that.
• It started out as simple, no-strings-attached fun. A good stress reliever. Making out and grinding their hips together to completion while ESPN played old highlights on the TV. Exchanging handies and blowies after dinner and then collapsing in Jack's bed. It didn't take long for them to graduate to fucking. Jack was so nervous the first time, only calmed with the knowledge that Nico was just as nervous, too.
• Nico's handsome—Jack has eyes, after all—and he's a very good lay. But as those weeks turned into months, Jack could feel it blossom into something more. Nico was so kind and caring—even from the start, risking disease to come over and keep his basically-still-a-rookie company.
• Now, he's sitting with his back to Nico's chest, Chinese takeout on the coffee table (because fuck the racists trying to put them out of business), watching Friends. Nico's chuckling at Phoebe and Jack can feel the heat from his soft exhale on the top of his head. And he has to wonder if it'll still be like this when the lockdown invariably ends.
• Nico drops a kiss to the top of his head, and he has a good feeling it will.
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solar-halos · 3 months ago
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i watched speak no evil w my brother and now i need to talk about it. not to make this about race but something that jumped out to me was that this movie would only work with the whitest fucking family you’ve ever seen. let’s start at the beginning
1) we did get there late so idk what purpose dunking on danish ppl served so let’s just skip to the part where they let their twelve year old daughter ride a scooter with a man they JUST met. if some white middle age man offered to let let me ride saddleback on his motorcycle my parents (or at least my dad) would be like hell to the mf no and then we wouldn’t be allowed near him or his wife or his son ever again
2) speaking of his son that’s another reason why the movie would be over before it started. that’s prob more of an immigrant thing though (or like a machismo thing) bc i don’t think i’ve ever been allowed to play with boys no matter how old we were
3) okay actually my mom would have been a little fooled by that british accent
4) oh my god if we went over to this family’s house and the hosts were like “you’re sleeping in the same room as our son! :)” my parents (probably both of them) would be like hell to the MF NO. and then we’d drive back home and go no contact
5) the lack of backbone killed meee. if for some reason we weren’t gone by then you know what would have done the trick? some unfamiliar man being our fucking babysitter. my dad would be PISSED. my mom would be like “a brown man? girl…”
6) the husband telling everyone to swim in their underwear? girl…
7) i’m kinda forgetting the other details so im officially done dunking on white ppl. no offense to agnes bc she was distressed but feigning her period while she was bleeding in the front was like ..?
8) OH WAIT. back to dunking on white people bc if my parents (even my mom!) found me in some family’s BED holy shit. they would not careee about that lady’s sob story they’d escalate shit so much that the hosts would just kill them right then and there
9) also that stuffed animal agnes had was sweet and i love the lengths her parents went for her but my dad would be like get the fuck OVER it girl. and then if i tried kicking the backseat well. haha. let’s just say thqt wouldn’t end well
10) okay but also if i showed my mom those pics i dont think she’d believe me no matter how weird these people were LOL. like she’d still try to leave but i dont think she’ll be like “omg you’re right!”
11) the cheating beat was what rlly did it for me. like if that were my family the movie would be over before it even started. like i was confused why the wife kept saying her man was angry bc he never even yelled at her and the closest he ever came to lashing out at agnes was trying to get her to stop kicking his seat
12) he rlly was so in love with patrick though i thought there’d be at least one kiss between them
13) why did ppl (read: men) in the theatre start BELLY LAUGHING when patrick kept kissing the wife? gross
14) dude. if we didn’t manage to escape once (even tho we def would have… no way would either my parents drive back for a stuffed toy) my parents defintely would have kept driving even if patrick did push their son (who wasn’t rlly his son… but im gonna keep calling him that bc i don’t remember his name) into the lake. like for me my mindset for scenarios like that is “oh well u don’t rlly know how you’d react until it happens to u” but i know EXACTLY how my mom would have reacted. she would have kept driving
15) i do love the wife though. i feel like they were trying to make her annoying but we all need people like her. the food throwing scene was so upsetting (im a sensitive baby) and the husband not having a backbone drove me crazy. actually the husband was pretty much useless even before he broke his leg
16) i hate that uppity “im not gonna stoop down to their level” mentality. patrick literally said he was gonna take ur 12 yr old child as a child bride and u didn’t end it??
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omvimo · 1 year ago
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saw the mean girls musical and i have alot of thoughts (spoilers under the cut)
okay so first off GOD I AM NO BETTER THAN A MAN RENEÉ RAP HIT ME UP PLEASE anyways besides me being gay for the entire cast, i did really enjoy the casting. Them being hot is a plus, they can all sing VERY well, acting was amazing. Only person who I think was casted wrong was Aaron. No hate to the actor, he did a great job it just didn’t seem like Aaron yk.
I saw alot of people complain about how they used social media in it but like hot take it was used well. Like in the beginning of sexy, i have no idea how they would get Karen to talk to the audience for the “if i could change the world” bit otherwise.
THEY FINALLY MADE JANIS A FUCKING LESBIAN. Like we all knew, but to not only confirm it, stage it not a bad thing, AND to have her go out with a girl? QUEER JOY AT ITS FINEST
speaking of gay people, cady was %100 in love with regina and experiencing comphet with aaron. Like the first time cady looks at her, shes staring into her tits i mean eyes. And the bathroom scene at the end with the “i like you” just makeout already you fags.
now the song.
okay so, as said before, the whole cast has beautiful vocals, and I enjoyed all of it, but I just genuinely prefer some of the original broadway cast over them. Mainly Barrett Weed Wilson over Auli’i Cravalho. You can see it best in someone get hurt reprise (which isnt even out on music platforms smh) and no hate to her I just like Barrett’s voice better. BUT I do think Jaquel Spivey CARRIED every song he was in, dare I say ever SCENE give this man more screentime.
what i didn’t expect was the level of cinematography there was my favorite part was when we see regina on the treadmill and its all dark like she’s going through a depression and then transitions to the red lighting in world burn for her anger, its just top notch
my biggest complaint is how they cut and shorten songs like MEET THE PLASTICS WAS LITERALLY JUST REGINAS PART WHAT also WHERE THE FRWEAK IS FEARLESS AND STOP
also unrelated to the movie itself, this group behind me was laughing everytime a song started and was just being rude to everyone in the theater and these were full on adults too like ugh learn theatre etiquette or just stay home smh
overall i’d give it a solid 9/10. would watch again and probably will
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thetarttfuldickhead · 1 year ago
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Jamie's Christmas Carol: Masterpost
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Having returned to Richmond, Jamie is slowly but surely mending bridges and finding his place on the team again. However, as Christmas draws near he struggles with how to reconnect with his mother after distancing himself from her for the past year.
When seemingly sent a sign how to make things right, Jamie is determined to grab the opportunity with both (slightly clumsy) hands—even if it does involve fomer rival turned retiree Roy Kent.
A Jamie-centric pre-OT3 Christmas story told in 25 short chapters.
1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / 19 / 20 / 21 / 22 / 23 / 24 / 25
Read on AO3.
Or read the whole thing below.
Prologue
This is a Christmas story. It begins—
—in December, in London, and with the whole of AFC Richmond spilling out from a theatre in an animated gaggle of waving hands and raised voices.
“Nah, you’re wrong, bruv,” Isaac told Jamie emphatically. "This shit's way better than Mickey's Christmas Carol." 
Jamie rolled his eyes at that insane opinion and set out to explain how Isaac was as wrong as wrong could be (but respectfully, like), while behind them Moe was explaining something about capitals to Thierry and Bhargava handed Dani a tissue.
After Ted had shown them Scrooged for their last team movie night, a heated debate on the best adaptation of A Christmas Carol had led to a seven night movie marathon ending with Isaac taking them all to The Old Vic for the stage version. 
Jamie, something of a theatre expert thanks to Keeley, had helpfully informed everyone that talking to the characters or shouting suggestions during the performance was not allowed, because even though that was still a fucking stupid rule – just imagine someone trying to introduce that to football games, the fans would riot and they’d be right to – that was the sort of thing Jamie did now: he was helpful. Was a team player. Gave useful tips to people before they made fools of themselves, rather than gleefully afterwards. It wasn’t always as much fun, no, but sometimes good in a different sort of way. And it wasn’t like he had much of a choice, anyway; the team had made that plenty clear when he returned to Richmond.
“All right, lads, I’m off,” he called to them now, giving up on trying to convince Isaac of the errors of his taste. Too cold for it. “Got me car over by Park Plaza.”
“See you tomorrow, boyo,” Colin said, clapping him on the shoulder.
“Good night, Jamie.” Sam’s smile was still just this side of tentative, but it seemed sincere enough and Jamie couldn’t help but smile back. He was all right, Sam.  
With less than three weeks until Christmas, the London night was chilly as Jamie made his way through it. No snow, naturally – though not unheard of, a white Christmas in the English capital was uncommon indeed. Not that chances were much better up in Manchester.
Manchester. The thought of it brought a small frown to Jamie’s face. He knew he ought to go up there after the game on Boxing Day, to visit Mummy and Simon. Before he was loaned to Richmond he’d always spent Christmas at home; last year, he’d blamed the distance and the fixtures for not being able to make it.
It hadn’t been a lie, but hadn’t been the whole truth either. Secretly, Jamie had been relieved for the excuse to stay away. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see his mum – he always wanted to see his mum – but he hadn’t known to deal with the crushing weight of all the things he couldn’t tell her; of all the things he didn’t want her to know. It had sat heavy and silent between them, a barrier that only seemed to grow higher and higher as he was sent back to City, as he fled City for Lust Conquers All, as he begged his way back to Richmond.
Now things were better, with him and with the team (and from his dad there’d been nothing, not for months now, and maybe this time—but no. Jamie didn’t want to think about Dad now), and it was time, really, to man up and make it up to Manchester. To come clean to  Mummy and have things go back to normal.
Jamie had no fucking idea how to do that. The idea of disappointing her left a sour taste in his mouth and his stomach churning.
Still frowning, Jamie unlocked his car and slipped into the driver’s seat. The Tube would have been quicker, but he hadn’t been in the mood to be recognized tonight. It was all right if people wanted to talk football, but at least one out of three still wanted to yell at him about Amy. Which was really unfair, because nothing on that show had been real, had it, and Amy knew that.
Amy had known that, right?
Didn’t matter now. Stupid shit, over and done with. Jamie Tartt had other things to worry about.
He pulled out of the car park, turned right, and began his journey home.
---
This is a Christmas story, and maybe it begins here too—
­—in a house in Chelsea, on that same December eve, and with Roy Kent keeping an eye on the oven and the time, while over by the table Keeley and his niece were adding increasingly intricate details to the gingerbread dragon-unicorn-princess-whatevers they were making.
Outside, an Aston Martin passed by on its way from Waterloo to Richmond. Roy would have recognized the car, had he seen it, and Keeley too (rather intimately), but the kitchen window was facing the other way and neither of them did.
“Look, Uncle Roy, this one looks just like you,” Phoebe exclaimed, proudly exhibiting a cookie man with curious antlers and a dour expression that did indeed make him look rather like the retired player.
Keeley laughed. “Ha! Yeah, it does!”
Roy growled. It was his fond growl. It was all right this, Keeley and Phoebe and the gingerbread covering every surface in the kitchen; all right in a way not a lot of things had been since he ended his career by sending Jamie Tartt flying to the ground half a year ago.
As for Jamie Tartt… He drove past the house without looking at it twice. He’d never been inside Roy Kent’s home; never known exactly where he lived.   
That would change, before morning broke on Christmas Day. Because this is a Christmas story, and those always come with miracles.
2.
Wrapped in his heavy duvet and with a soft pillow bunched under his head, Jamie dreamt:
He was trying to run over the pitch and catch a pass from Sam but he was all wrapped up in heavy chains and kept tripping over them and no matter how many times he got up and tried again he never came any closer to the ball, and the ball wasn’t even a ball anymore anyway, it was a giant roast turkey and it kept running around his feet and telling him to be a lion or a goldfish in what sounded a lot like Ted’s voice.
“Don’t know what you’re on about, mate,” Jamie wanted to say, but it came out “humbug”, again and again and then two children, creepily like they were right out of a horror movie or some shit, appeared and started towards him, and fuck that, so he turned and ran and the chains were gone now so it was all right and he ran and he ran and then he ran past Colin who was sat on the pavement looking lost and sick and somehow smaller than he ought to be and Jamie knew he would die if Jamie didn’t stop to help him but the children were still coming so he mouthed an apology he didn’t think Colin heard and ran on.
He found himself standing outside a brightly lit window and staring straight into his childhood home. Mummy was there, and Simon, and they were having a party seemed like, for the room was filled with people he knew, laughing and dancing, and there was Keeley, smiling and golden in a bright pink gown, and she turned to Roy, who took her in his arms, and as they kissed Jamie stumbled backwards and fell into a hole and as he kept falling he realized he was falling down into his own grave and all the while he heard his dad laughing and laughing and laughing.
Jamie woke:
He sat up with a start, blinking against the darkness of his bedroom as his heart slowly, slowly resumed its normal pace.  
Fucking hell. That had been a nasty one.
But, he thought as he climbed out of bed after a look at the alarm clock suggested there was no point in trying to go back to sleep, it was also kind of an obvious one, right?
Granted, it was pretty rude of his subconscious to cast him in the role of Scrooge, because while Jamie had maybe, possibly, not always been the greatest teammate or that, he’d never been a sad old miserly fuck either, had he? Never been one to say no to a party or been boring, yeah? So. Rude.
That said, it wasn’t like he was blind to the cymbalism or whatever. Scrooge had been a selfish cunt and made some not so great choices and ended up alone and a strange to his family, and hadn’t Jamie been thinking about his mum just yesterday and wondering how to sort things out with her?
As far as signs from the universe went, there was no mistaking this one.
Jamie met his own eyes in the mirror, giving himself a wink and a decisive nod. Like Scrooge (except younger and talented and shockingly fit, even with his hair a ruffled mess and a hint of darkness under the eyes), Jamie need to make things right with the people he’d wronged. Then he’d be able to go home and talk things through with Mummy and sort everything out.
3.
Jamie arrived to Nelson Road deep in thought. As he shaved, it had occurred to him that there was a tiny, tiny issue with his otherwise foolproof plan: he had no idea just who he was supposed to set thing right with.
Because the thing was, him and the team? They were good now. He’d apologised and even though that hadn’t gone over so well at first it had all worked out in the end, after a bit more effort and some suggestions from Dr. Sharon and he hadn’t even needed to buy anyone any PS5:s. All right, so sometimes there were just a bit of tension, like when he made a joke with a slight edge to it and people paused like they were judging whether or not he was being a prick or funny, but all in all, things were good.
He was even sort of friends with Sam now (though he guessed it wouldn’t hurt for him to keep an eye out for whenever the younger player did something good on the pitch and throw a compliment his way. And if Sam decided to stage a protest against another sponsor for some reason or other, Jamie would absolutely be right there by his side. Tape his shirt up and down and all over).
Just to be sure he had it right, he asked Isaac, catching the captain as he passed Jamie on the way to the gym. “Listen, mate, we’re cool, right? I mean, all of us, me and the team and everyone, yeah? We’re good?”
Isaac gave him a penetrating stare, as if wondering what Jamie was up to. “Why?” he asked slowly.
Jamie shrugged, fighting the urge to squirm. Who’d have though that Isaac of all people would grow into the role of captain like this, all authorative and responsible like? This time last year, he’d have been falling over himself to do whatever Jamie told him to. “I dunno. Just checking, I guess.”
Apparently, he must have looked and sounded convincing enough, because Isaac nodded again and clapped him on the shoulder. “We’re good, bruv. Just don’t be a dick again, yeah?”
“I won’t,” Jamie promised, even as he felt a small pang of regret. None of the lads seemed to really get how much fun being a dick could be and how much of a sacrifice Jamie was making just to be part of Richmond again.
Still, they had accepted him back, and that’s what really mattered.
But if the team was sorted, whom did that leave? Ted? Jamie glanced towards the coaches’ office, where the gaffer was apparently having an animated discussion with Coach Beard. Ted must have felt his gaze, because he lifted his head, and when he saw Jamie looking he grinned and waved, looking like there was no one on Earth he’d rather catch staring at him.
So probably not Ted, then.
“You feeling all right, Jamie? You look like you’ve got a stomach ache.”
Tom had arrived and thrown his bag down on the bench next to Jamie. Jamie gave him a brief nod of greeting. “Yeah, I’m good, man. Just thinking.”
Tom grinned. “Thinking, huh? Don’t strain yourself.”
Next to them, Babatunde chuckled, and it was the oddest thing: part of Jamie wanted to snarl at the slight dig, wanted to bite back with a cutting retort, put them in their place and show them who was top dog, because who the fuck were they to make fun of him—
Part of him felt warmed, a small thrill of stupid gratitude coursing through him. Because this was what you did with your teammates, yeah? Ribbed and teased, and it didn’t mean anything bad, just that they were your teammates, and you were theirs.
Back during his first stint with Richmond, no one (but Roy) had dared say stuff like that to him, not even as a lighthearted joke.
Now Jamie cocked an eyebrow and smirked, matching Tom’s easy tone, the lack of bite. “Don’t worry, mate. Could strain everything in me body and still run circles around you out there, couldn’t I?”
When Tom laughed and slapped him on the arm and Babatunde oooh:ed appreciatively it sent another surge of pleasure through him. Grinning to himself, Jamie shrugged out of his jacket and reached for the training kit.
“All right everyone, out on the pitch in five.” At the sound of Nate’s voice cutting through the din of the dressing room, Jamie stilled, boots in one hand. Turning his head, his eyes found the coach, their former kitman.
The man he’d led Isaac and Colin in terrorizing.
Ooh.
4.
”Coach? You got a moment?”
Nate startled at the sound of his name, upsetting the papers strewn all across his desk. When he caught sight of Jamie peeking in through the office door his eyes widened almost comically. “Oh! Um. Jamie. Hello. Do I have– Ah! Yes. Of course. I believe I could make– Hrm. Come, uh, in.”
Like Ted, Nate had a way of taking ages of getting to the point, but at least it had ended in some version of “yes” as far as Jamie could tell. He stepped into the office
Nate was eyeing him warily, which was unfair, really, because Jamie had been super respectful ever since he got back to Richmond, even though it was kind of weird to have Nate as a coach. Like, the man was good at it, surprisingly so, but it was still weird. Then again, Jamie supposed him seeking Nate out had never spelled anything but trouble for the latter before, so okay, fair enough, couldn’t blame the man for being a little skittish.
Belatedly, Jamie remembered the peace offering he’d popped out and picked up just down the road, from the bakery that Keeley swore by. “Here,” he said, putting it down on the desk in front of Nate. “Got you this.”
Nate stared mutely at the slice of cake in a dainty box covered with gold and ribbons. Jamie had paid extra for the fancy box. Nate liked boxes, right?
“It’s carrot cake,” Jamie supplied helpfully, in case Coach wasn’t familiar with baked goods. Not everyone had Simon for their Mummy’s husband.
“I… see.”
Nate didn’t look like he did see, but Jamie suspected it would be rude to point that out. Besides, he was starting to feel a little nervous, so he figured he better spit it out and get it over with before that got any worse.
He took a deep breath. “So, I wanted to apologise.” He glanced up at Nate to see how that was received; Nate still looked slightly dazed. Fuck. Jamie had hoped that maybe it’d be obvious what he wanted to apologise for, so that he didn’t have go into all the gory details. No such luck, apparently. He barrelled on. “I did some shitty things and I told others to do some shitty things when I was here before, and that was shitty of me, so. Sorry.”
Nate was still eyeing him warily. “Did… did Ted tell you to do this?” he asked eventually.
“No.” Jamie made a face. He didn’t just do nice things because Ted told him to.
Sometimes he did them because Keeley told him to. Or because Dr. Sharon, in that smart way of hers, got him to tell himself to. That last bit had gotten easier and easier. Sometimes he didn’t even need Dr. Sharon for it anymore.
“I just thought I should,” he added somewhat sulkily, feeling a little bit defensive. He was trying here. “’Cause I was a prick to you and all. So, I’m sorry about that, yeah? And like, if there’s something you need me to do that’d make you feel better, you can just tell me and I’ll do it. Yeah.”
He made sure to look Nate in the eyes for the last bit. Maybe he wouldn’t have realised that this was a good thing to do if it hadn’t been for the dream and him wanting to see Mummy and that, but he still meant it, didn’t he? He knew he’d been a prick. He knew Nate hadn’t done anything to deserve it, apart from being an easy target with no means of defending himself.
Put like that, it really did sound pretty shitty. Jamie fidgeted with his sleeves.
Nate stared at him for a long moment. Jamie couldn’t quite decipher the emotions flickering over his face. Coach opened his mouth several times but then shut it again, until finally he said, “Yes. Okay. Excellent. Thank you, Jamie.”
Jamie brightened. “So, we’re good?” he asked eagerly, straightening. That had been dead easy, that. Nate hadn’t even yelled at him or anything
“Yes, of course.” A nod and a small smile that looked a little weird on Nate’s round face. Maybe the man wasn’t used to smiling. Or maybe he just wasn’t used to doing it when Jamie was around, for aforementioned Jamie being shitty to him reasons.
Jamie grinned, friendly as he could. “Cheers, mate,” he said, reaching over the desk to companionably pat Nate on the shoulder before heading for the door. The other flinched slightly under the touch, which was weird ‘cause Jamie hadn’t patted him all that hard, but then again, Jamie was a world class athlete and Nate wasn’t. Jamie probably didn’t know his own strength. He should take note of that, make sure he didn’t hurt anyone by accident. Be anti-ethical to this whole doing right by people thing, probably.
Feeling rather pleased with the lunch break’s efforts, Jamie headed for the dressing room. He’d call Mummy tonight and arrange for a visit after Boxing Day. Everything was going to be all right.  
5.
Everything was not all right. Bleary-eyed and with the beginnings of a headache brewing, Jamie slumped down on the bench by his cubby, ignoring the excited chatter of the dressing room and politely (he hoped) brushing off Dani’s attempt at getting his in-depth opinions on Dani’s new socks. (They were decent. Little bland, but the colours went nicely with Dani’s skin tone.)
Evidently, making nice with Coach Nate had not been enough to appease the universe, because Jamie had spent the better part of last night staring at his phone, trying to work up the courage to call his mum without any success, and now he’d spent the better part of training trying to figure out what the matter was, also without any success.
It was fucking weird. It shouldn’t have been hard, calling her. It wasn’t like they never talked or anything, he’d spoken to her just last month. But it was different now, somehow, when he knew he wouldn’t just be talking to her, but actually talking to her.
Fuck. He’d been so sure that saying sorry to Nate would do the trick.
More out of desperation than anything else, Jamie stuck his head into the head coaches’ office. Ted wasn’t around, but Coach Beard was sat by his desk, feet up on it and with a book in his hands.  
”Do I need to apologise to you?” Jamie asked without preamble.
Beard looked up from his book, fixing Jamie with that unnerving stare of his. “What for?”
“I dunno.” He couldn’t actually remember ever speaking much to the man before, but maybe he’d managed to somehow wrong him anyway.
“Then I guess not.” Sounding supremely unimpressed, Beard returned to his book.
Well. Jamie made a face. It had been a long shot anyway.
He undressed; he showered; he changed. He agreed to a beer with Jeff and Arlo later that night. He wasn’t really in the mood, but he figured he still wasn’t in a position to turn down invitations. Wanted to show willing and all that. Besides, Jeff had always been easy company. Only one of the team that hadn’t thrown a fit about him coming back.
As he made his way to out of the building he passed by Keeley’s office, and paused. Keeley was by far the smartest person he knew, and dead good to talk to. She’d probably have some ideas about what he should do next.
Though the last time he’d gone to her for advice, she’d sent him off to Dr. Sharon and Dr. Sharon was home with the flu so that was no good.
He went into Keeley’s office anyway. She wasn’t there, but the room smelled like her, sweet and floral, and the familiar fragrance was both soothing and a little painful for the pang of longing it brought. He fucking missed her, in a way he hadn’t expected to when she dumped him. Back then he’d mostly been disappointed about not having the Keeley Jones for a girlfriend anymore and missing out on more of the frankly mindblowing sex, but the more time passed, the more he started to miss other things. How clever she was. Funny. Kind.
It was good, though, the way they could still be friends. He was pretty sure Keeley wasn’t the one he was needed to make things up to; he knew she wasn’t upset with him anymore, in spite of him not treating her as good as she had deserved. He hadn’t ever meant to hurt her, he just hadn’t thought.
In a fit of inspiration, he dug out his phone and after several seconds of careful consideration  put together a quick text to Amy.
Sorry I was a prick on the show. Didn’t mean to hurt you. Hope you’re all right
Then, lest she get the wrong idea, he quickly added:
Not trying to get back together or anything.
Somewhat to his surprise, he received an answer in less than a minute:
i wouldn’t get back with you if you begged me to
i’m engaged to david now
you’re a poophead but i’m paying for the wedding with the money i made selling my story to the papers so we’re square
Jamie’s gut twisted at that. As much as he loved attention and as much as he hadn’t any qualms about getting naked and fucking around on the show, the idea of Amy crying about how he’d cheated on her and dishing out all the sorted details that hadn’t made it into the final cut made him queasy. At least it meant they were cool, though, so he sent a thumbs up and tried to put it out of his mind.
He didn’t put the phone away. He scrolled through his contacts until he landed on “Mummy”. Let his finger hover over it for a long time, but it was no good. Apparently texting Amy hadn’t helped either.
Fuck, he wished Keeley was here. Even if she couldn’t or wouldn’t help him with his problem just talking to her would have made him feel better. Always did.
His eyes fell on the a life-size cutout of Roy Keeley, in spite of her otherwise impeccable taste, kept by the wall, and his lips curled into a sneer. Odds were Keeley was over talking to him right now, maybe even curling up next to him and petting his hair, though what she saw in that decrepit wanker was a fucking mystery. Sure, Roy was fit, but anyone who’d spent more than two minutes in a room with the man knew he was a miserable old twat, and if there was one person Jamie wasn’t sorry about being a prick to it was—
Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Hang on. Wait a minute.
Oh. Fuck.
6.
“Do you think messages from the universe can get, I dunno, scrambled?” Jamie asked Jeff when Jeff returned to their table with another tray of shots. “Like, the universe gets them wrong or sends them wrong or… ?”
Jeff blinked at him owlishly, looking slightly cocerned under the neon lights. “Don’t really know, mate,” he said at long last, then held out the tray hopefully, “Another shot?”
Jamie had already had four, as well as two beers, and that was more than he’d normally allow himself mid-season but tomorrow was an off day and he’d been thrown a fucking curveball by the fucking universe so fuck it. He took another shot, downing it with a loud “gwah!” as the Fireball burned in his throat.
Jeff looked relieved. He was a good lad, but probably hadn’t expected to be fielding exessential discussions when he asked Jamie to tag along for drinks. Which was fair enough, Jamie hadn’t expected to be having them when he agreed to come.
It was just the two of them at the table now. Arlo was off on the dancefloor with a gorgerous woman a good three inches taller than him. Jeff and Jamie had already written him off as lost for the rest of the evening; it was usually how things went whenever they went out together. Sometimes Jamie suspected half the reason Arlo even wanted to play football was because it made easier to pull. Which was good, really, because he was way better at that than he was at kicking a ball.
Jamie told Jeff as much, but then frowned. Had that been a prick thing to say? Like, it was a joke, yeah, but was it mean? Was it too mean? And how the fuck did you know?
But Jeff just laughed uproariously, and Jamie relaxed again. Jeff had never minded him being a bit of a prick anyway. It was kind of like old times, this, him and Jeff getting pissed and talking shit. He let himself enjoy the buzz, the beat of the music, and nodding along as Jeff moaned about his girlfriend’s uptight parents. For a while, it was easy to forget about his mum and Roy and all that.
But in the back of the cab taking him home a couple of hours later, his thoughts drifted back to the absurdity the universe seemed to demand of him.
See, the thing was, Jamie didn’t really feel like apologising to Roy. He wasn’t, when all was said and done, particularly sorry about being a prick to Roy, because Roy had been a right prick to him, too. Had been a prick first even, right from the moment when Jamie arrived and hadn’t done anything more prickish than walk up to him to say hello. (All right, sure, maybe Jamie hadn’t bothered to hide the fact that the Richmond dressing room was a fucking joke compared to City’s, just like the gaffer was a joke, and the entire club was a joke. But the point was, he hadn’t been rude to Roy, not until Roy ignored his outstretched hand and and walked off without giving him as much as one look, and fuck that nasty twat, seriously.) And it wasn’t even two months ago that Roy – on national fucking television no less – said that he hoped Jamie would die, and Jamie hadn’t even done anything to Roy in ages.
So no, Jamie didn’t feel like apologising. And say he did bite the bullet and spat out an insincere sorry, would that even count if he didn’t mean it? Jamie didn’t think so. He wasn’t sure on the universe’s stance, but his mum had never been big on saying things you didn’t mean.
The fuck did that leave him, though?
Perhaps he didn’t actually need to apologise to sort this? Even if Jamie hadn’t done anything wrong (or at least nothing worse than what Roy had done to him), maybe he could be the one to take the first step to build some bridges between them? Be mature and friendly like, to show that there were not hard feelings?
Jamie made a face. He wasn’t sure he liked this idea either. But he liked the idea of not sorthing things out with his mum even less.
Roy was a cunt, yeah. But he was also a sad old pensioneer who’d never get to play football again, and Jamie was young and fit and had his whole career ahead of him. He could be the bigger man.
Filled with determination, Jamie paid the driver and stumbled strode towards his house. Roy wouldn’t know what hit him.
7.
With a deep sigh of contentment, Roy bit into his kebab. One of the very, very few perks of no longer playing professional football was being able to indulge in whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. At the rate he was going, Hus would be able to retire in a couple of months.
”Big man Roy Kent!”
Roy stilled. That voice—
It couldn’t be—
But it was. Roy lifted his eyes and there he fucking was, Jamie fucking Tartt, in Roy’s fucking kebab place.
Roy wasn’t quite sure what the most bizarre part was: Jamie being there at all, or Jamie smiling at him in what didn’t immediately appear to be a sneering way.
For a moment, he was too stunned to do anything but stare. Jamie’s bright smile didn’t waver.
Then Roy said the only thing he could thing of, which was, “No,” and immediately went back to his meal, hoping that Jamie would – for once in his miserable muppet life – get the message and simply get lost.
Jamie did not get the message. After a brief silence (during which Roy pointedly didn’t look at the other, but could well imagine the stupid faces he was pulling while trying to make sense of the simply one-syllable word), the idiot plowed right on. “How you’ve been, you’ve been good, yeah? Saw you sitting here, figured I’d say hi. You’re doing Soccer Sunday now, right? Bet you’re dead good at that.”
For fuck’s sake. Roy seriously considered just getting up and walking off but the way this was going he wasn’t convinced that Jamie wouldn’t just follow him. He put the kebab done, and fixed the other man with the most baleful stare he could muster. “What the hell is this?” he growled. “What the fuck are you doing?
For a moment, he had the terrible notion that Jamie had signed up for another show, and that this was somehow part of it. Some kind of fucking Punk’d hidden camera bullshit or something. But no, that was ridiculous.
Then again, so was ditching City to do go on reality TV. Roy surreptitiously glanced around. As far as he could tell, there were no cameras.
That was the thing about hidden cameras, though, wasn’t it? That you couldn’t fucking tell that they were there.
“Um, I told you, mate,” Jamie said, speaking slowly as if he seriously believed that Roy just hadn’t heard him, “Saw you sitting here, thought I’d say hi.”
If this was a prank, it was a bloody ridiculous one. And anyway, Roy rather doubted Jamie had the acting chops to fake looking this stupidly earnest. It was oddly unsettling to see him like that, especially because otherwise he looked exactly as he had on Lust Conquers All; he wore his hair the same way, and wore the same sort of obnoxiously coloured and patterned clothes (albeit rather more of them). It was just the look on his face that was different.
Almost just the look on his face. Roy hated how he could tell that Jamie seemed to have filled out ever so slightly in the months since coming home, the overly and artificially defined sharpness at least somewhat rounded by a healthy athlete’s robustness.  
Fuck. Part of him wanted to grab the younger man by his stupid shirt and shake him and ask what the hell had he been thinking, throwing away his career to get naked with a bunch of losers on a fucking TV show. Jamie was an awful human being, true, but he was a fantastic players, with the makings of a truly great one, and yet he’d been perfectly happy to squander his totally undeserved talent and walk away from football, while Roy would have done any-fucking-thing for the chance to play just one more game—
Roy realized that he’d been clenching his fists hard enough to make his knuckles whiten. He  took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. Jamie’s idiotic, inexplicable, upsetting decisions weren’t his problem. Hadn’t been his problem even when he followed the prick’s every move on the telly with a mixture of terrible glee and fury.
So lost, Keeley had called him.
Called both of them.
At least Jamie was back to playing football again. And at Richmond no less – Roy had wondered, just a little, how the team had greeted the return of their former star and bully. With appropriate scorn and a good many rough tackles, he fervently hoped, although from the looks of the games he’d watched, they all seemed on friendly enough terms now. Jamie was even passing to the others on a regular basis; it would seem he had caved to the Lasso way of doing things at last.
And in doing so, he’d lost some of what made him such a unique talent. It had been becoming more and more obvious with every game since he came back: he was second-guessing his instincts, hesitating when he should go for the kill, and favouring being a team player over scoring goals, to the point where he was passing up on shots Roy knew the little bastard could have nailed.
Jamie was a prick, and that had made him fucking insufferable to be around and the worst fucking teammate Roy had ever had the misfortune to work with, but it had also made him one hell of a player. As of now, he was good at best.
Roy’d fucking die before he let anyone hear him say that, though. For his pundit gig, he had taken to simply refusing to comment on Jamie’s performance, or even mention him at all. The other hosts had eventually learned to accept that, mostly because any needling invariably led to Roy digging into them instead.
Apparently put off by Roy’s silence, Jamie pouted. “Come one, man, why won’t you talk to me?”
“Because you don’t deserve it,” Roy said, automatically but meaning every word. And then, begrudgingly and because he suspected there was no getting out of this without exchanging at least a few words (and because he was just a little bit curious), he added, “The fuck are you even doing here?” This wasn’t a part of town he’d expect Jamie to frequent. Nowhere near where he lived, if he was still up in Richmond, and with too few clubs and designer shops.
For a moment, Jamie looked caught out, but then his eyes flickered to the sign above the counter. “I’m here to buy a, um, kebab.” He rolled his eyes like Roy was the one being dense. “Obviously.”
“Obviously,” Roy echoed, voice dripping with sarcasm. Enough of this farce. “Let me ask you something, Jamie, did fucking around on that TV show finally bruise your last two remaining brain cells enough for you to completely lose your fucking mind?” He snorted. “No wonder City dropped you.”
At that, Jamie’s eyes flashed dark. ”Fuck you, you twat!” he spat. “I’m trying to be nice here!” Genuine anger in his voice now, and wasn’t that a rare treat? One of the most infuriating thing about the little prick was that he never seemed to lose his fucking temper; he pushed and he pushed and he pushed, and when challenged he got in  your face and pushed some more, but he never let that cocksure composure slip.
It had pissed Roy off to no end back when they played together, and it was with a sense of dark triumph he twisted the knife now. “Yeah, and you’re as shit at it as you are at doing anything that isn’t kicking a ball or being a huge fucking pain in everyone’s arse.” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and raising one eyebrow deliberately. “Lasso’s a moron for ever letting you back on that team.”
Privately, Roy had to admit that that last bit wasn’t true – for all Jaime’s (very, very many) faults, Ted would have been an idiot not to have him. But it seemed to hit the mark all the same, because Jamie paled with anger and he opened his mouth—
—only to snap it shut and spin around on his heel. He marched out of the restaurant, leaving Roy to shake his head after him in narrow-eyed bafflement.
Well, that had been fucking strange. Wait until he told Keeley—
Actually, no. That was a terrible idea, wouldn’t it? Chances were that Keeley’d either berate Roy for not being nicer (which was absurd because he hadn’t even punched the little twat and how much nicer than that could he reasonably be?), or that she’d go off spouting that outrageous fucking nonsense about him and Jamie being alike again, and honest to God, if that happened Roy might have to actually slit his own throat, and he’d be damned if he gave Jamie fucking Tartt the satisfaction of, however indirectly, being the one to take out Roy Kent.
So no telling Keeley, then. He’d go home and cook her a fantastic dinner instead, and he’d forget all about this weird fucking day and whatever weird fucking shit Jamie was up to. It was none of Roy’s concern and he wouldn’t waste another minute pondering it.
Pleased with this decision, Roy got up and utterly failed to follow through on it.
8.
Half an hour and a cuppa in a quiet little café off Sydney Street later, Jamie had more or less calmed down after his failed attempt to have a friendly conversation with Roy Kent.
It fucking figured that Roy was too much of a miserable old twat to react normally to somone trying to be nice to him, but it was still a disappointement, especially after Jamie had gone to the trouble of getting hold of his adress (thank you, Richmond secretary Rose with a soft spot for sexy footballers), and spending a good part of his morning lurking around outside Roy’s house, until Roy finally went out to get lunch in some sad little kebab shop. 
He’d been right cunning about coming up to Roy, too, making like he was just there to get a bite, but then Roy had to go and open his big fat mouth and it had all gone tits up. It wasn’t like Jamie to lose his temper like that, but Roy’s words had prodded at something only half-healed and painful.  
He won’t be coming back. Nobody wants you. I just don’t think it’s a good idea.
(And even so Jamie might not have cared about that bullshit had it come from anyone else, but. Like. This was Roy. Roy Kent. There’d been a time when Jamie would spend hours just thinking about Roy Kent talking to him about football, about how Jamie was playing, and never once in those happy dreams had Roy suggested that City would be right to drop him. Never once had he suggested that another team would be stupid to take him on.)
But joke was on Roy, yeah, ‘cause Jamie was back at Richmond and playing and perhaps he was still not quite up to his usual brilliant standard, hadn’t scored as much as he used to, but at least he was playing, which was more than could be said for Roy.
For some reason, that didn’t feel as much as a triumph as Jamie would have thought (or would have claimed, had anyone asked him just just a year ago).
With a frustrated sigh, he drained the last dregs of his tea. He’d better get moving. Couldn’t be sat here all day like some sad sack with nowhere better to be.
He didn’t feel like going home, though. The idea of spending the rest of the afternoon alone and fretting made him like there were tiny little spiders running around all over him, their tiny little spider legs itching and pulling at his skin.
On impulse, he texted Isaac.
Hey mate
U doing anything?
Had this been last year, he would have fully expected Isaac to get back to him right away, ready to drop anything short of deadly disease or a family crisis to roll with whatever Jamie wanted. Now, though, it was a pleasant surprise when Isaac texted back almost immediately.
Hitting dover street market with colin for some christmas drip
Wanna join us?
It was stupid, really, the way the simple question sent a rush of relief and happiness through him. Fucking soft, something whispered in his mind. Needy bitch. Jamie pressed his lips together and did his level best to ignore it while he typed out a quick reply.
I’m in.
Be there in 30
I’ll buy you lunch.
He waited until he got a Yeah all right bruv, see you there, and then he pocketed his phone and headed out.
Isaac and Colin could buy their own lunches, of course – could buy lunch for the whole city of London, probably – but it was a way of saying thank you, innit. ‘Course, anyone should be happy to have Jamie with them on their shopping tour, for advice and the like, but with everything that had happened, he wanted to make sure the lads knew he appreciated them asking him to come. That he didn’t take them for granted anymore.
Maybe buying affection wasn’t always the way to go, but it didn’t hurt being a little generous when you were trying to make friends, did it? Who didn’t love gifts?
Huh. Now there was a thought.
Sure, Ted had shot down his PS5 plan (and Dr. Sharon hadn’t seemed keen on it either), but Jamie had tried doing things differently with Roy, right, and that had gotten him fuck all. It was time to do things his way, namely with a lot of style and a fuckton of money.
Roy probably wouldn’t like a PS5, though. Way too much fun for him. And treating him to lunch was right out, on account of Roy being an arsehole who couldn’t be bothered not to be an arsehole even when Jamie was clearly trying to be sweet to him,
What would he like, though? Apart from football, which no one could give him again, and Keeley, whom he already had (and even if she’d been Jamie’s, he wouldn’t have given her to Roy, partly because she was her own person and no one’s to give, and partly because Jamie would never, ever be stupid enough to lose her a second time).
He’d have to think on it for a bit, Jamie decided. But that could wait until after he spent the afternoon getting properly kitted out for the holiday season with Colin and Isaac.
Feeling quite a good deal happier than he had before, Jamie skipped down the stairs down to the Tube station and got on Picadilly line heading north.
9.
How the fuck could it be half five already? Keeley glared her screen in silent reproach, but it stubbornly refused to change to a more reasonable hour. She’d be late for drinks with Rebecca now, although Rebecca could hardly be mad at Keeley for being so hard at work that she lost track of time.
Yawning a little, she closed her laptop and shook the tension out of her shoulders. She was proud of Sam for taking a stance, she really was, but it had created something of a professional tangle for her, and she’d spent the past five weeks trying to deal with the fallout of that and find them a new shirt sponsorship deal. She was so close to finalizing something with Bantr, and wouldn’t that be something? Show everyone that Rebecca’s trust in Keeley was completely justified.
“Hi Keeley.”
She looked up, and there was Jamie, standing in the doorway with a new Gucci jacket and a small smile.
Keeley returned the latter easily. “Hey Jamie! What are you still doing here? I thought training ended early because you have a game tomorrow.”
“It did, yeah, but I’m here to pick up Dani. He had a late session with the physios and his car is at the garage.”
She raised an eyebrow at that. “Oh, yeah? That’s nice of you.”
He shrugged, looking a little embarrassed, but looking pleased too. “It’s nothing. Gotta be a good team mate, right?”
“Yeah.” And she smiled again, a little wider and a little softer this time.
It made her glad, that he seemed to be doing so well. They hadn’t talked much since she dropped him off in Dr. Fieldstone’s office – she’d been to busy with work to talk very much with anyone – but from what she’d seen, he’d been making a lot of progress with the team, and maybe with himself too. The swagger was still there, of course, and some of the careless arrogance, but it seemed tempered – at least sometimes – with glimmers of the other, softer Jamie, the one that she used to be the only one allowed to see.
She’d loved him for those glimmers (as well as for the sex and the pure fun that Jamie could be, when he wasn’t busy being an arsehole). She was glad others were getting the chance to witness them as well.
“You working late, then?” he asked, stepping inside and absentmindedly picking up at the pink peonies on her low cupboard. “Or are you planning Christmas presents? Bet you’re getting Roy something really cool, eh?”
Keeley frowned at the abrupt question and the unexpected – and unexpectedly friendly – mention of Roy. Jamie sounded perfectly casual, but since when had he ever been casual about Roy? Back when him and her were dating, he’d said the older player’s name with just as much venom as Roy tended to say Jamie’s now, when he deigned to mention Jamie at all. (These days, Roy made a point of pretending to be completely unaware of his existence. Sometimes Keeley got the sense that he was dying to ask her about Jamie, how he was doing, but held himself back for vague and no doubt very reasonable and not at all stupidly macho reasons.)
“I hadn’t really thought about that yet, to be honest,” she said carefully. “I’ve been really busy with work. But maybe an experience rather than a thing, you know? Not like he needs more stuff.” Maybe he needed a little bit of colour in his wardrobe, but she’d yet to convince him of that. Not that she’d tried very hard; what Roy wore was Roy’s business, and he looked fucking fit in black anyway.
Jamie nodded along as she spoke. “All right, yeah, yeah, sounds good. Maybe some concert tickets, eh? Do you know if he’s still into Sade?”
What? “I didn’t know he was into Sade.”
Jamie’s eyes widened in what she could only describe as alarm. “Oh, no, no, not me either. Well, I mean, maybe I read it somewhere. But, uh, I don’t know, it was probably someone else, anyway. Steven Gerrard, maybe. Yeah, that’s it, it was Gerrard.”
“Okay.” For a long moment, Keeley just looked at him. “Why are you asking me about Roy’s Christmas presents?” she eventually asked. Was Jamie jealous that she’d been buying Roy and not him gifts this year?
“Uh, no reason. Just making conversation, innit? And I just thought, he must be hard to shop for, ’cause he’s a grumpy old twat who hates everything.”
“Roy doesn’t hate everything! He likes loads of stuff!”
Improbably, Jamie brightened at that. ”Yeah? Like what?”
He was watching her intently, like he really, truly wanted to hear the answer.  
This was fucking odd. Keeley cocked her head to the side. “What’s going on, Jamie?” she demanded, pulling out her serious voice to let him know she wasn’t fucking around.
His hands flew up, as if in apology or submission. “Nothing! Nothing’s going on, I was just— I mean— Hey, is that Dani over there? I, uh, need to go talk to him about… about football. Yeah. And I’m taking home too, so I have to go. Give my best to Roy, yeah?” He paused, scrunching his face up as he considered what he’d just said. “No, I mean, don’t give my best to Roy. I mean, don’t give him anything. Better not mention me at all, really.“ And he flashed her a quick smile, the fluster not completely hiding the shy affection there. “Bye, Keeley.”
“Bye Jamie,” she replied uncertainly, staring after him as he scampered off. What the fuck had that been all about?
Then her eyes fell to her phone and the time on the display, and she cursed loudly. Now she was really going to be late.
10.
”Thank you, amigo! It is very kind of you to come and pick me up.”
Dani’s smile really was something else, wasn’t it? It used to piss Jamie off, the way Dani always walked around beaming like he was in the best fucking place and doing the best fucking thing, no matter where he actually was or what he was actually doing. But it had always been just a little bit disarming, too, even when Jamie was at his most prick-ish, and these days he found it impossible not to smile back when Dani looked at him and grinned like being around Jamie was the best thing that had ever happened to him.
”Don’t mention it, man,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road as he turned left on The Vineyard to reach Dani’s riverside home. “It’s no big deal.”
And it really wasn’t. Sure, Jamie had had to go back to Nelson Road instead of chilling at home and getting ready for the game tomorrow, and now he was driving around half of Richmond just to save Dani having to take a cab and potentially run into Earl loving locals with a grudge, but he found he didn’t mind. Hadn’t even really thought twice about offering, when Dani worried about it earlier in the day.
“I really think tomorrow will be a win for us,” Dani announced, and then he nattered right on, about football, about a movie he’d seen, butterflies, and the way his cubby smelled in the morning.
Jamie merely hummed and nodded. It wasn’t that he didn’t like talking to Dani, it was quite nice, really, but he was too distracted by his chat with Keeley and his whole Roy project to pay much attention.
Dani was fully capable of carrying a conversation all on his own, but eventually he must have noticed that Jamie didn’t contribute his fair share, because he turned to him with a small frown and asked, “Are you feeling well? You are being very quiet.”
Jamie opened his mouth to tell the other that it was nothing, he was fine, just a bit tired, yeah, but then he hesitated. He was struggling a bit with how to deal with Roy, and talking to Keeley hadn’t helped as much as he’d thought it would. Maybe Dani would have some ideas? Of all the players on the team, he was the one Jamie trusted the most not to take the piss, and not to ask any awkward or probing questions.
He still wasn’t really used to asking for help, though. It made him feel weird and vulnerable, made him want to squirm and say something sharp just to make the feeling go away.
He glanced at Dani; Dani was watching him patiently, nothing but friendly and earnest concern on his face.
All right then.
”If you want to make someone happy,” Jamie began, “but you don’t want them to know it’s you doing it and you’re not sure what they’d like, how would you do it?”
Dani lit up and gave Jamie a wink that was probably supposed to be sly. “Ooh, are you wooing a woman?”
“What? No!” Jamie made a face. He wasn’t wooing Roy, for fuck’s sake, he was just doing what the stupid universe wanted him to do so he could spend Christmas with Mummy. “There’s no woman, all right? Just this person I wanna cheer up, but without them knowing it’s me, yeah?”
”Ah, like Secret Santa?”
”Uh, I don’t know?” He considered it for a moment. “A bit like Secret Santa, yeah,” he condeded.
Jamie didn’t really get the point of Secret Santa – why spend time and money giving someone something nice if they weren’t even going to know it was from you? That was just weird, wasn’t it? But in the case of Roy he didn’t have much choice; if Roy knew the nice stuff were from him, he’d probably dump it right into the Thames. Wanker.
“You can send them gifts to their house,” Dani suggested. “Or, if you know where they are going to be, you can let one of those little airplane with big signs fly over the place with a nice message for them.”
Now they were talking! “You’d have to put their name, though,” Jamie noted. “Or they won’t know it’s for them. Don’t want any old grandma thinking it’s their message, do I.”
“People should send nice messages to old grandmas more often, though,” Dani pointed out, and yeah, all right, fair enough.
He’d been right to ask Dani for help, Jamie decided, as he pulled up by the other’s small mansion of a house. It was just a pity it hadn’t been a longer ride.
“Do you want to come inside?” Dani offered, as if on cue. “Mi madre left me some pavo navideño when she visited a few weeks ago. We usually eat it on Christmas Eve but we can heat some of it for dinner now and come up with more ideas?”
That didn’t sound half bad, actually. “Yeah, sound,” Jamie said. “Thank you,” he added after a moment’s consideration.
Dani’s smile was as brilliant as ever. “You are welcome, Jamie Tartt.”
---
When Jamie left two hours later, he had with him a container filled with Mama Roja’s properly lush stuffed turkey and a long list of really clever ideas on how to turn Roy Kent’s December into the jolliest time ever. Game on, old man. Prepare to be fucking happy.
11.
“Babe, that smells amazing!”
Keeley’s arms wrapped around him from behind, and Roy smiled, unseen. “Careful,” he told her gruffly as he took the pan of shashuka off the stove. “It’s hot.”
“Mmm, isn’t only thing that is.” She waited until he’d put the food down on the table before she slipped into his arms, claiming a kiss. “What are we having today?”
In spite of Keeley being the one with an actual time to keep in the morning, Roy was usually the first one up. Old habits, and he liked having breakfast ready for her when she came down. It made him feel useful, being able to do that for her, and the way she smiled at him over her avocado toast with scrambled eggs or peanut butter blueberry smoothie warmed him in a way not much else did lately. Or ever had, really. Roy Kent had never been what most people would call an exceedingly happy person.
Even by his low standards, though, the past six months had been fucking bleak. Losing football, even if he had always known it was coming, even if it had always been just a matter of time, was like having not only his heart but his lungs and brain and every-fucking-thing ripped out, leaving him an empty, useless shell, stumbling around the void where playing once had been. If it hadn’t been for Keeley, and maybe Phoebe, he wasn’t sure he’d still—
“It’s shakshuka,” he told Keeley. “Eggs in tomato sauce with feta cheese and spices and herbs and shit.”
“Sounds good.”
It was good. Between them they polished off the entire pan, and then Keeley kissed him goodbye and was off and Roy was left with the cleaning up and nothing much to do for the rest of the morning. In the afternoon there were a couple of games he’d watch in preparation for this week’s Soccer Saturday, but until then, he was free as a bird.
Free as a bird with a broken wing limping around on the ground and doing fuck all for either himself or anyone else.
Roy filled up the dishwasher, and took out the trash. Scrolled through his phone looking for new breakfast recipes to try. Read two chapters of The Girl Who Takes an Eye for an Eye. Read a recap of yesterday’s La Liga games.
At least Keeley had been right about the pundit gig. It was fucking stupid, but being around football again, even in this diminished capacity, was hell of a lot better than trying to distance himself from it entirely (coaching Phoebe’s team aside). Might even have been borderline fun, if it weren’t for Cartrick’s ignorant, pointless drivel, and the fact that it regularly saw Roy subjected to both the sight and discussion of Jamie Tartt.
Ever since their bizarre run-in at Hus’, Roy had, annoyingly and in spite of his best intentions, been unable to excise Jamie from his thoughts. He didn’t give a shit about the little prick, and yet he couldn’t stop wondering what the fuck had been going on with him at the kebab shop. (Why the fuck had he left City? How the fuck had he convinced anyone at Richmond he wasn’t a total wanker anymore? When was Lasso going to realize that you couldn’t play Jamie like he was playing Jamie?)
Good fucking thing Richmond were in the Championship, which at least meant that the pundits spent way less time on their games (and certain prick players) than they would have if they still played in the League.
The doorbell rang.
“Delivery for Mr. Kent,” a chirpy young woman with a non-descript parcel in her arms called when Roy opened the door with a scowl on his face.
Roy’s eyes narrowed. Had Keeley taken to buying things online for him now? Roy sure as hell hadn’t ordered anything lately, and who else would think to have shit delivered here instead of Roy’s actual house?
“Who is it from?” he asked, but the woman just shrugged. It didn’t say.
Roy signed for the parcel, and carried it inside. He placed it on the kitchen table and stared at it for a moment. Was this some weird fan or stalker bullshit? There’s been some of that, people sending him all sorts of stuff throughout the years, but usually to the club rather than his house, and usually back when he was still with Chelsea and on top of the fucking world.
He called Keeley. “Did you buy me something online and have it sent to your place?”
“No? Why, did you get a delivery?”
“Yeah. Don’t worry about it. Talk to you later. Love you.”
He hung up. Stared at the parcel some more, and then he shrugged. Fuck it. Wouldn’t be much of a loss anyway, if it turned out to be a bomb and he was blown to bits.
Inside the parcel was a flat square box, carefully wrapped in royal blue with a white bowtie. Chelsea colours, Roy’s brain immediately supplied. Maybe it really was an old fan, who somehow hadn’t gotten the memo that Roy was fucking finished. A has-been. Just some guy named Roy.
For a moment, he was tempted to just throw the whole thing out and forget about it. But curiosity got the better of him, and he tore away the wrapping paper, to reveal…
… a jigsaw puzzle? That’s what the box proclaimed anyway, only it made no sound at all when he shook it, and the picture on it, while familiar, sure as hell wasn’t any Roy had ever seen on a jigsaw before.
And he would have seen it, had it ever been produced. It was him, long-haired and dressed in Chelsea blue, caught in the motion of scoring the prettiest goal of his career, against United back in 2014.
Roy stared at it for a long time, letting his finger trace the curve of the ball as it flew towards the goal. Then he opened the box, and found it filled with bubble wrap. Presumably someone had taken the time to use it to fill up the box, to make sure the smattering of puzzle pieces he discovered in a neat bag underneath didn’t give the surprise away. Stuck to the bag was a small, printed note, which simply read:
3000 pieces is a challenge. You as good at jigsaw puzzles as you were at playing football?
Roy snorted. Football was an art, sweat and tears and bloody hard work. How difficult could a jigsaw puzzle be?
Still, it was one hell of a gift. It must have been Keeley, right? In spite of her denying it, who else would have a, bothered to get Roy anything at all, and b, come up with something so thoughtful?
She really hadn’t sounded like she knew what he was talking about on the phone, though.
He’d save that mystery for later. Right now, he had 3000 puzzle pieces to show who was boss.
12.
It took Roy the better part of four days to finish the puzzle. To his surprise, he enjoyed it, and initially rather wished he knew whom he had to thank for the thoughtful gesture. Then things took a turn for the crazy, and he rather wished he knew whom to grab by their shirt and demand what they hell they were up to.
On Wednesday, he took Keeley out for dinner to celebrate her successful closing of the Bantr deal, and before they even had time to order, a bottle of Tattinger arrived at the table, courtesy of someone who wished “the best midfielder of all time a very nice evening (and congratulations Keeley, you’re a superstar too)!”. Roy’s increasingly loud inquiries about whom had sent it over nearly got them thrown out of the restaurant.
On Thursday unexpected sleet fell over London, covering everything in a heavy wetness that froze as temperatures fell. Roy had spent the afternoon Christmas shopping, and as he slipped and slided over the slick pavement back to his car, he was already cursing how bloody fucking difficult scraping the ice off the windshield was going to be. But when he arrived at the parking lot, it had already been taken care of, by an unseen someone who had then seen fit to scamper off and leave Roy equally disgruntled and grateful.
When Roy came back from the TV studio on Sunday someone had decked his entire front porch with Christmas lights and decorations in black and silver, with red accents. It actually looked pretty nice – which didn’t change the fact that it was an utterly bonkers thing to do.
There were other gifts as well. On Tuesday he received a bottle of Macallan from 1982, the year of his birth, and on Friday it was a gift card for a massage in a luxury spa in Mayfair. Roy considered regifting the latter to his sister, but ended up spending a fucking glorious afternoon there himself. Though he did regular physio for his knee, he hadn’t had a massage since he quit football and lost access to the Richmond therapists; it had just never occurred to him to book a private appointment. It would now.
He asked Keeley repeatedly if she wasn’t the one doing it all, but she consistenly denied it, to the point where she forbade him from asking again, urging him to talk to the police if he was concerned about a stalker.
Roy wasn’t concerned, exactly. He was confused more than anything, both about what was actually going on, and about his own feelings on the matter. There was no denying that whoever was behind this spent stupid amounts of time and money on it, and that they seemed to know a great deal about Roy; both what he might enjoy, and where he was at any given time. That was objectively creepy and weird, and Roy had found himself looking over his shoulder more than once in the past week.
At the same time, there was a part of Roy that relished the attention, and had secretly started to look forward to each day’s new surprise. It brougth a sense of excitement to his otherwise painfully dull days when Keeley was away at work.
But yeah, Roy admitted to himself as he sipped coffee and watched Phoebe skate around the ice rink in Canada Square Park on Monday, it was fucking strange too. He probably should be more concerned. Maybe he ought to—
“Uncler Roy, look!”
Phoebe had come up next to him, and was pointing up into the the grey London sky. Roy followed her outstretched finger and gave a sharp curse. Above them a small airplane flew across the park, trailing a banner reading ROY KENT YOU ARE A LEGEND behind it.
Yeah, Roy thought while handing Phoebe a quid for swearing, he absolutely ought to find out who was behind this.
13.
”All right, listen up,” Roy said, glaring down at his sister, Keeley and Phoebe on the couch in his sister’s sitting room. “I’m not kidding around, all right? If either of you are the one pulling fu— fudging Twelve Days of Christmas on me, I need you to tell me right effing now, because if it’s not you, then I need to figure out what the he— heck is going on, because this sh— stuff is getting out of hand.”
His sister raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him. ”Roy, I work irregular and insane hours. I love you, but do you really think I have the time for anything like this?”
“Yeah, me too, babe,” Keeley chimed in. “And I mean, hiring a banner plane? That’s gotta be like at least a thousand quid, and you know I think you are an absolute legend, I really do, but I’m not going to spend that much money writing it across the sky. I’d much rather tell you in person.”
She would, too. Did, on a regular basis. Roy accepted her denial with a curt nod, and turned his stare on Phoebe.
“Roy,” Sophia said exasperatedly, “Phoebe is six.”
“Yes, Uncle Roy, I don’t think I could do all that.”
“Yeah, but you could have had an accomplice.”
“Roy.”
“Yeah, all right,” he muttered. But he’d had to ask, hadn’t he? Of all the people in the world, he was pretty sure Phoebe was the person most likely to want to do this kind of stuff for him, even if she didn’t quite have the means yet.
“Did you talk to Ted?” Keeley asked. “Sounds like it might be right up his alley, yeah? Always thought he’d make a great Father Christmas.”
Roy grunted. “Called him this morning. He said it wasn’t him and spouted a bunch of American nonsense at me. I think he was telling the truth.”
But who did that leave, then? Was it really just some random and insane fan? Feeling oddly deflated, Roy sat down on the couch next to Keeley, who immediately took his hand. “I’m sorry, babe,” she said. “It’s really messing with your head, huh? Not that it shouldn’t, it is fucking – sorry Phoebs – weird. And a bit creepy. Maybe you should talk to the police? Or I could talk to Rebecca, see if she has any ideas?”
”I don’t fu— I don’t know. Because I don't think they're about to take an axe to my head or anything. It’s all just so… random and thoughtful at the same time. This morning, a bunch of carollers knocked on my door but instead of Christmas songs they burst into a Sade medley!”
Unexpectedly, Keeley’s grip on his hand tightened. “Did you say a Sade medley?” she asked slowly.
Roy turned to look at her. “Yeah. Why?”
“Um,” Keeley said, looking both confused and a little worried. “This is going to sound mad, babe, but I think that maybe it’s… Jamie.”
Roy barked a laugh. Then he noticed that Keeley wasn't smiling, that there was no teasing twinkle in her eyes.
Roy stared at her. Then he stared at her. And then he stared at her some more. Then he got up at started pacing.
“What,” he said.
And: “That’s not mad, that’s so far beyond absolutely batshit crazy that if it went supernova the light from that explosion wouldn’t reach batshit crazy in a billion fucking years.”
(“That’s a quid, Uncle Roy.”)
 “Why the fuck would Jamie Tartt send me fucking gifts and decorate my porch and send fucking carollers after me?”
(“That’s another three.”)
“I knew something was up with him, it’s another fucking TV show, isn’t it, the little idiot’s signed up for another one, it’s a fucking prank, and we need to check the entire house for cameras. Jesus fucking Christ, I’m going to fucking strangle the muppet, I will actually fucking kill him.”
(“I think I lost count. Can we say ten?”)
“Babe,” Keeley said, rising from the couch to put a hand on Roy’s shoulder. “You need to calm down, yeah? For one, you’ll go bankrupt if you keep swearing like this around Phoebe, and for another, I— Listen, I have no clue what Jamie is up to – if it is Jamie, we don’t know that, but if it is, I don’t… I don’t think he means any harm.”
“It’s Jamie,” Roy said darkly. “Of course he means harm.” But even as he said it, he remembered the expression on Jamie’s face in the restaurant. Maybe… “What the heck is he playing at?” he asked the room at large.
“I don’t know, babe. But we’ll find out, all right?”
14.
Another fucking draw. At least they’d actually scored in this one (Obisanya 26, Tartt 74), but what good was that when they let the other team net the ball just as many times? Jamie stared morosely at his Lynx collection, trying to muster the energy to change out of his kit. He was sweaty, his hair was a mess, and his side ached dully from a nasty tackle near the final whistle; taking a shower would be heaven. But he was too tired to move.
It wasn’t so much the game that left him exhausted, even though it sure took its physical toll. The past ten days had been a mad flurry of setting up surprise after surprise for Roy, and that had involved more gift hunting, eavesdropping and secret sneaking around than Jamie had ever thought he’d get up to. Between that and football and team Christmas bonding there’d barely been time for sleeping and eating.
And after all that, he still hadn’t called Mummy. He’d tried to, every single night, but he just. couldn’t. do. it. Apparently his efforts still weren’t up to scratch, which was baffling, to be honest: how fucking sad was Roy that not even the truly fanastic stuff Jamie had pulled for him had made him happy? Christmas was only days away, and Jamie was running out of both ideas and time. Could he get Sade to actually write Roy a song… ? Might be too much, though, even if he managed to figure out how to sort it. It’d give the bugger a heart attack or something, and that would make Keeley sad and probably not count as him doing a nice thing, even if it’d be dead unfair of the universe to blame him for Roy being a frail old man.
Perhaps he could invite Dani out for another brainstorming session; it had worked a treat last time. Jamie was pretty sure that Roy had appreciated his gifts and gestures, from what peeks he’d managed to sneak of the man. Just not appreciated them enough, apparently.
It also seemed like maybe Roy was getting a tiny bit suspicious. Yesterday, he’d kept turning his head every this way and that, and sometimes stopping dead in the street and whirling around, looking a little wild-eyed. At one point Jamie had had to dive behind a couple of large rubbish bins to avoid detection. That was a pair of perfectly ripped trousers he’d never wear again.
Fuck, but he wished that—
“Jamie, are you feeling well?”
Jamie turned to look at Sam, who had stopped by his cubby, already changed and with a concerned pinch to his kind face. He looked just slightly, slightly hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure if his question would yield an answer or something sharp and snide. Jamie made an effort to smile. “Yeah, bruv, I’m sound. Just, you know, tired of not winning.
“It is disappointing. But, thanks to you it was a draw instead of a loss. And it was a very nice goal too.”
At the praise, Jamie felt his smile grow easier, more sincere. It had been a very nice goal, hadn’t it? Good of Sam to notice. 
“Yeah, yeah, thanks mate. And yours were great too, you know?” he added, remembering what Dr. Sharon had said about how acknowledging other people’s accomplishments did not diminsh Jamie’s own.
The way Sam’s lips curled into a wide grin, mirroring Jamie’s own, and the way the sight of it made Jamie feel warm had him thinking she was onto something there.
“Thanks, Jamie,” Sam said simply, and gave him a friendly nod before walking back to his own cubby.
Still smiling, Jamie finally began to undress.
---
Once he was showered and changed and Ted had somehow talked them all into feeling determined and hopeful rather than dejected, Jamie hefted his bag and headed for the door. On his way out he passed by Keeley and Rebecca Welton, offering a smile to the former and a polite nod to the latter.
Keeley lit up when she saw him (and fuck, but that still did things to him, didn’t it?). “Hi, Jamie,” she said. “Listen, I was wondering if you could stop by my place tomorrow? I wanted to talk to you about some new tweaks to your brand, now that you’re playing again?”
Jamie perked right up at that. Talking to Keeley and discussing his brand? Fucking brilliant. Much better than spending another day trying to figure out what would possible make Roy Kent happy enough to appease the universe into letting Jamie call his mum.
He’d been working hard. He deserved a little break. Besides, hanging out with Keeley at her place might well yield some new Roy related ideas.
“Yeah, mint, yeah,” he said. Then a thought occurred to him and he frowned. “Or, actually, no, I can’t. The team’s doing a day trip Winchester Christmas Market after our recovery sessions. Sorry.”
He was, too. As much as he was growing to appreciate the lads and was looking forward to the trip, he’d rather spend some time with Keeley (and his brand was in sore need of some brushing up, ‘cause people were still being cunts and hung up about him walking out on City and Amy and stupid shit like that).
“Oh.” Keeley looked disappointed, which cheered him a little. “Tuesday?” she suggested.
“Sure, yeah. I mean, I’ve got training, but I could drop by after? Unless you wanna… “ He nodded towards her closed office door.
“No! I mean… No. There’s been… there’s an issue with the ventilation, yeah, it smells awful in there. Like dying animals and farts and baby vomit. Blegh. You don’t wanna go in there.”
Uh, yeah, no thank you, he sure as hell did not. Jamie made a face. “Yeah, all right,” he said. “I’ll just come by yours then?”
She nodded, looking relieved. “Great! Thank you, Jamie!”
“You’re all right.” He gave her another smile, Rebecca another nod (and noted that she for some reason seemed like she was struggling not to either roll her eyers or laugh, which was kind of rude, considering how hard Keeley worked for her and all, and she really should get Keeley’s office sorted), before heading out to his car.
So. Fun trip with the boys tomorrow – maybe he’d find something nice for Mummy and for Roy at the Christmas market – and then hanging out with Keeley the day after. So-so playing and his mummy issues aside, life wasn't so bad.
15.
Jamie stood outside Keeley’s door and pressed the bell exactly one hour and seven minutes after training ended on Tuesday. He’d have come sooner, but he’d stopped to pick up coffee for them both on the way. Seemed rude to show up empty-handed when Keeley was taking the time to help him with his brand, even if it’d been her idea.
“Hi, Jamie,” she said as she opened the door, and Jamie frowned. Keeley looked as lovely as ever in her pink Versace and with the blonde hair done up, but there was a strange edge to her smile.
“Hi, Keeley. You good, yeah?” he asked, but she just nodded and gestured for him to move into the sitting room.
The sitting room where Roy was standing by the large windows, turning around as Jamie walked in.
Jamie paused on the threshold. He hadn’t expected Roy to be here. Which, perhaps, he should have, considering how things had gone the last time Keeley invited him over to her place.
Seeing him brought a curious flutter to Jamie’s stomach. Following their encounter at the kebab shop, he’d have sworn he’d rather never say another word to Roy Kent, but spending the past week and a half doing his damnedest to secretly cheer the man up had seemingly shifted the resentment into something else and softer. After all that sneaking around and staying hidden while keeping an eye on Roy, being in the same room as him and having Roy see him made Jamie feel weird. Exposed. Charged. Little jittery.
“Hi,” Jamie decided to try, opting for cool but not unfriendly.
Roy didn’t say anything at all. He just stared at Jamie with an intensity that was kind of extreme, even for Roy.
“Okay then,” Jamie muttered, moving to sit down at the table.
He paused again, raising an eyebrow. On the table before him was the jigsaw puzzle, the bottle of whisky, and the gift card envelope. There was quite a bit missing from the bottle, Jamie noticed with a small thrill. Roy had better enjoy it; tracking it down hadn’t been easy, and it had cost more than any liquor rightly should. Jamie could probably have gotten a thousand bottles of vanilla vodka for the same price.
“Nice,” he said, nodding towards the things. So what if he was angling for some small confirmation that the gifts had been appreciated; he fucking deserved it, after all he’d been through for this grumpy twat.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Roy said, his gruff voice disbelieving to the point of near-reverence. “It was you.”
“Eh?” Jamie looked up and found Roy still staring at him, but his expression had morphed into one of incredulity warring with simmering anger.
Oh. Uh. Jamie had a bad feeling about this. He hurriedly turned to Keeley, who’d followed him into the sitting room and was standing behind him, that small frown still on her face. “You wanna get started?” he asked, hoping to shift the situation away from whatever it was that Roy was so ominously on about.
“It was him the whole time.” Roy sounded like he was slowly convincing himself of the fact, and getting increasingly pissed about it. “I can’t fucking believe— “
“Keeley?” Jamie said, a little desperately. “We should get started, yeah? So, about me brand, I was thinking—“
But Keeley was shaking her head slowly, and Jamie fell silent. Fuck. This had never been about his brand, had it?
He bit his lip. He didn’t look at Roy.
Gesturing to the gifts on the table, Keeley asked softly, “Jamie, did you get these for Roy? And had his porch decorated and all the other stuff?”
He scoffed. “What? No.” He made a face, too, for good measure, because that was just a fucking ridiculous idea, wasn’t it?
Even if it was true.
Keeley fixed him with a stare he was only too familiar with. “Jamie,” she said, edging close enough to stern that it took him some effort not to shuffle his feet.
He wasn’t any good at lying to her when she looked at him like that. Besides, he knew that she wouldn’t believe him even if he tried. Neither of them would. Storming off in a huff wouldn’t help either, because they’d still know.
Nothing for it but to do what could be done to save whatever his dignity he had left.
“Fine,” he snapped. “It was me. I got Roy for Secret Santa, all right? Gone and ruined the surprise now, didn’t you.” Quick thinking, that. Jamie still felt right proud of himself. He’d always been great at coping under pressure. One of the things which made him such a brilliant penalty taker.
Roy and Keeley exchanged a look. Frustratingly and unreasonably, neither of them looked convinced.
“Jamie,” Keeley said slowly, sounding like she was trying very hard to be patient. “I helped Isaac put together the Secret Santa, yeah? Roy wasn’t even in it, ‘cause he’s not with the club anymore.”
“Yeah, you idiot,” Roy said. “So would you kindly tell me what the fuck is going on?”
He didn’t yell, but sounded like he was about two seconds away from it. Overdramatic wanker. Jamie crossed his arms over his chest, and looked away. “So I got you a gift,” he muttered. “What’s the big deal?”
“Gifts! You got me gifts! And the fucking carollers and my car, and then when Keeley and I went to the restaurant… You’ve been following me around like some kind of psycho stalker, haven’t you, you little prick, but yeah, of course you don’t see what the big deal is, because you’re too— ”
Keeley had walked over to Roy, and now put a hand on his arm, quietly urging him to calm down. He pressed his lips shut, thunderous scowl still in place.
“Yeah, Jamie,” Keeley said. “I get that you probably meant well, but it’s been a bit intense, yeah? And it’s not like you and Roy are friends, you know? So guess we just wondered what… well, what brought this on?”
Unexpectedly, Jamie felt his chest tighten. Something about the two of them, standing together on the other side of the room, and looking at him like that, Keeley with hesitant concern and Roy with derision and barely restrained anger… it hurt.
It was all just fucking shit, wasn’t it, because Jamie had tried, yeah? And sure, it’d been mostly to see his mum again, but he really had made an effort to come up with stuff Roy would actually like, and he’d spent every fucking spare minute and so much money pulling it all off and it’d all been so fucking stressful, but maybe it had been a little bit fun too, like maybe Jamie had started to get excited about doing this stuff for Roy, only now Roy was staring at him like that and Jamie’s stupid eyes were beginning to burn and fuck.
“Cat got your fucking tongue?” Roy demanded. “The hell is going on with you, Tartt? First you fuck over City to be a twat on telly, then you worm your way back into Richmond and suddenly try to make it like you haven’t just proved to the whole fucking world that you’re the prickiest prick who ever lived.”
“Roy,” Keeley said. But she didn’t say anything else.
Jamie swallowed. Looked away, and took a deep breath. Another, and felt his face fall into something familiar and safe.  
When he looked back to them, it was with lifted chin and a disdainful sneer firmly in place.
“If we’re not here to talk about me brand, I’m out,” he said coolly. “Need to prepare for the game tomorrow, ‘cause even if I am a prick and even if I did fuck over City to go on a reality show, I’m still fucking playing.” He let his voice curl into cruelty; let his eyes slowly wander over Roy to make his meaning clear. I’m playing. You are not.
Roy got the message, loud and clear, and Jamie didn’t doubt for a second the man would have lunged for him, hadn’t Keeley strategically stepped in to block his path. “Boys—“ she began, but Roy cut her off, his voice an icy snarl as he began call Jamie every vile name under the sun and detail the many, many imaginative ways he’d like to hurt him.
Jamie didn’t stay to listen. The door slamming shut behind him echoed like the sound of a bullet ripping through his chest.
16.
“And with that, it’s all over at Vicarage Road! Watford prevails 3-0 over fellow Premier League relegates Richmond, after a nowadays characteristically lacklustre performance from the Greyhounds. Jamie Tartt had Richmond’s best chance early on in the second half, but failed to capitalize on an elegant pass from Richard Montlaur, and Watford took full advantage of of the visitors’ inability to create anything truly dangerous.”
Jamie went through the motions, shaking the hands of the Watford players and hugging and patting his teammates on the back as he made his way off the pitch, but in his mind he was already back at his house, collapsing into bed and not getting up for at least ten hours. Let sleep pull him away from this fucking shitshow of a game, and the fucking shitshow that had been his visit at Keeley’s place yesterday, and the fucking shitshow that would be the upcoming holiday, because after how things had gone with Roy there was no chance in hell he’d be able to make things right with his mum.
Walking past a mirror in the visitors’ dressing room, he automatically took stock of his appearance, and would have recoiled at the sad sight if he hadn’t been too dejected to care even about that.
Jamie Tartt. The ghost of shitshows past, present and future.
“Don’t beat yourself up, boyo,” Colin said as he walked past him, likely assuming that Jamie’s look of defeat was all down to the actual defeat and the missed goal. “Happens to the best of us.”
“Yeah, evidently,” Jamie muttered, but with such a lack of conviction that it earned him a sympathetic smile and another pat on his shoulder rather than a scowl or eyeroll.
“It was very clumsy of you, but we still would have lost even if you had scored, so it doesn’t matter,” Jan Maas added, and Jamie wondered if it would really count as being a prick if he murdered Jan just a little.
“All right, boys, not gonna lie, that was a tough one, but you know—“ Ted with a rousing speech, and normally Jamie would have done his best to pay attention because that’s what the new and improved Jamie did, and because Ted’s speeches, long and confusing as they sometimes were, actually did tend to leave him feeling better.
But today he just couldn’t seem to keep focus on the gaffer’s friendly drawl, no matter how hard he tried, and he soon gave up. Sat down on the floor and let the words turn into background noise, shapless static, until the silence told him it was time to get up, get changed, get out.
The journey home was a silent affair, a far cry from their ride to Winchester the other day. It had started rowdy and only gotten worse as Declan brought out the hot toddy that his wife had made, and Jan brought out the bisschopswijn that he had bought, and Richard declared that both drinks were sinful waste of good wine and brought out four bottles of a very long French name that Jamie couldn’t remember.
Isaac had only let them have one sip of each offering, because “gonna be lots of little kiddies at the market, so we’re going to fucking behave, yeah”, but that had been plenty to warm them, and they’d descened upon the pitoresque market in an abundance of high spirits and good cheer.
Jamie had found his Mummy a nice blanket, and Roy a boxset of novels in an old bookshop that Sam convinced them to go into. (Well, he hadn’t found the set, Tom had, picking it up and asking, “hey, wasn’t this the guy Roy was obsessed with last year? I sat next to him on the ride to the Sheffield game and he was reading this book he just woulnd’t shut up about. Don’t think I’ve ever heard him talk that much before”, but it had been Jamie who quietly snuck back to the store after the others have moved on to the hot chocolate stall and bought the set.)
Fat lot of good that would do him now.
Jamie picked up his phone and started scrolling down his Twitter feed, hoping for something to distract him from the dull ache in his chest. Not a great idea, as it turned out; him fumbling that goal hadn’t exactly gone unnoticed. To make matters worse, City had won their game against Crystal Palace 3-0, and some industrious little twat had put together a stupid fucking video of Jamie scoring for City last season, him missing his shot today, a reaction shot of him as Watford scored, and City’s celebration of their win at Selhurst Park. imagine going from that to this just coz u wanna eat pussy on tv lmao, the caption read.
Jamie traced his thumb over the skyblue figures jumping and hugging each other as Pep walked among them, handing out cuddles and bum pats. De Bruyne had Paddy in a playful headlock, shouting something jubilant in his ear. Champions, well on the way to securing their fourth League title in a row.
That had been Jamie, just half a year ago. Could have been him still, if only—
But if he’d still been at City, he wouldn’t have had Dani leaning against his shoulder and soring gently as they turned onto Nelson Road. There’d have been no trip to Winchester. And – and that was the only thing that fucking mattered in the end, wasn’t it? –  if he’d still been at City, his phone would be blowing up with calls and messages from Dad right about now, and the mere thought of it was enough to turn his stomach.
As if on cue, his phone started buzzing, startling him badly enough that he almost disloged Dani from his shoulder. “Sorry, amigo,” Jamie murmured, receiving a sleepy mumble in response, as he glanced at the screen.  
Keeley, again. She’d tried calling him last night, and sent a couple of messages, but he’d let the call go to voicemail, ignored the voicemail, and the messages too.
It’d been fucking stupid of him to think she really wanted to help him with his brand, he supposed. He should talk to her, probably. Just to… Well. He didn’t know. Something.
Jamie declined the call. The coach came to a halt. He went home.
---
Two hours later, after he had dutifully eaten an nutritionst approved frozen meal and almost dozed off in front of Q&A, Jamie was jolted awake by a loud, insistent banging on his front door.  
He sat, blinking and scowling towards the hall. Had Roy decided to come calling and yell at him some more? Jamie was not in the mood for that. If he just ignored it—
“Jamie! I know you’re in there, I saw your poncy car out front! Not gonna leave me out here in the cold, are you? Jamie!”
Jamie’s stomached dropped.
It wasn’t Roy. It was Dad.
17.
Roy wasn’t stupid: as he parked his car next to Jamie’s ugly Aston Martin on the drive outside what Higgins had reluctantly revealed to be Tartt’s home, he knew fully well that this might not be a great idea. He’d even promised Keeley that he’d let her be the one to reach out to Jamie, “because obviously it was a mistake thinking the two of you could talk this through like adults”, but the little prick had dodged her calls all day and now Keeley was doing some mingle thing with other PR people downtown and Roy had tried to let it go, he had, but he was slowly going out of his mind, so. Here he was.
What the fuck was going on with Jamie Tartt? It was a question Roy had not thought he’d need to bother with after he quit playing, but he’d been proved wrong again and again in the past two weeks, hadn’t he, and ever since Jamie was revealed as his secret benefactor/pranker, it had not left him a moment’s peace. What the fuck was going on with Jamie Tartt, and why would he bother messing with Roy now that Roy was yesterday’s news? Jamie might be a world class prick but surely he had better things to do, and easier marks if he wanted to make someone miserable?
And even if he did want to mess with Roy, getting Roy a bunch of expensive and thoughtful gifts seemed a fucking odd way to do it. Yes, realising it had been Tartt behind if after Roy – stupidly, pathetically – started getting a little fucking invested in and excited about the whole thing had been a proper and unexpected punch to the gut. Had felt like a trick, because what else could it be? It was Jamie Tartt! And with the way he acted so weirdly cagey about it when confronted and then especially when he slipped right back into being the biggest cunt in existence, bragging about the game he was about to play while Roy—
Even thinking about it now had Roy’s jaw hurting for the way he was clenching it. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax. Because the point was… once Roy had had some time to calm down and think about it properly, he was forced to admit (reluctantly, and at Keeley’s insistence) that it didn’t fucking make sense.
Sure, Jamie had always been clever about zeroing in on people’s weaknesses and insecurities, as accurate with his digs as he was with a ball on the pitch, but there was no way he could have figured out that the once mighty Roy Kent was now enough of a moping little bitch that the mere idea of someone still finding him worthy of this kind of attention would have him – or at least part of him – giddy like a fucking child. Jamie couldn’t have planned the icy, numbing hurt that spread through Roy when he thought he’d been played for a fool, that all of it had been nothing but Jamie Tartt having having a laugh while climbing his way back up to the top of the footballing world. It had taken Roy by surprise, for fuck’s sake.
And then there was that moment, just one tiny short instant, right before Jamie opened his big fat mouth and Roy saw red, when there’d been something else on the younger player’s face. He’d looked… Well, if Roy didn’t know better he would have said on the brink of tears, but that was just fucking nuts, wasn’t it?
Then again, this whole thing was. Nuts, and bewildering to the point of driving Roy mental, which was why Roy was here, getting out of his car and walking up to Jamie’s bricked two-storey house, instead of hoovering Keeley’s kitchen and then having yesterday’s leftovers in front of the telly.
It was a surprisingly modest building, surrounded by a wall and winter-bare trees and bushes, and with some of kind of evergreen – too thick and bushy to be ivy – climbing part of façade. Expensive as fuck, of course, given its location in the actual village of Richmond, but cosier than what Roy would have thought expected Tartt to go for. The lights were on inside, and thank fuck for that. It would have been a pain in the arse if Jamie wasn’t home and Roy had to track him down.
Roy raised his fist to bang on the door, but paused at the sound of muffled shouting carrying  through the heavy wood. Someone in there was clearly in a very bad mood, and though he couldn’t quite make out the words, Roy was pretty sure it wasn’t Jamie. The voice was deeper, more ragged.
Before Roy could decided whether to knock anyway, there was a dull thumd and a loud crash, followed by the sound of glass shattering.
Roy forgot about knocking; he pushed the door open.
18.
The door swung open to reveal a knocked over side table, a smashed lamp on the floor, and Jamie Tartt sprawled next to it, bleeding from one hand. Over him stood a man Roy didn’t recognise. He was short, with unkempt grey curls and a wild beard.
He was also drunk, Roy noted, as the man turned toward him. Steady enough on his feet, but his gaze was slightly unfocused, and the smell of stale beer unmistakable.
“You expecting visitors— “ the man began to drawl, but then his eyes lit up with recognition. “Oh, Roy Kent, is it, didn’t expect to see you making house calls to old teammates, but I guess you have a lot of free time on your hands now, eh?” He looked down on Jamie, adding, “Get up, Jamie, no need to lay around like a little bitch just ‘cause you took a tumble, I taught you better than that.“ He turned back to Roy, shaking his head in mock-commiseration. “Footballer, and can’t even stay on his feet. Might be why you lost so badly today, eh, son? Your balance’s gone to shit now that you’re faffing around with a bunch of amateurs instead of a real team.”
Roy stared at the man with mounting disbelief and disgust, then turned his gaze on Jamie, who was unsteadily climbing to his feet. The look on his face shocked Roy far more than the signs of a scuffle had; he’d never imagined that Jamie could look so fucking small; curled in on himself, pale, and with downcast eyes, like a child awaiting punishment.
Like a child. Son.
Roy jerked his head toward the drunk. “This your father?” he asked, surprised at how level he sounded.
Jamie’s eyes flitted to the man, then quickly down again. He gave a small nod.
“Uh-huh. You want him here?”
“Hey now, Kent, you’ve no business— “
“Not talking to you.” Roy cut him off with a curt gesture, eyes still trained on Jamie. “Tartt, do you want him here?”
Jamie didn’t say anything; didn’t nod his head yes or shake it no. But he looked up at Roy and in his face there was such resigned hopelessness that it hit Roy like a punch to the gut.
Roy nodded once. “Right.” And before Jamie’s father had time to react, he grabbed hold of him and dragged him towards the door, ignoring the flailing arms and the kicks and the yelling, and tossing him down the step with enough force that the man fell flat on the gravel, hopefully cutting his ugly mug on the pebbles as he went. Roy shut and locked door on his cursing and threats, and turned back to Jamie, who hadn’t moved.
“The fuck happened here?” Roy asked. “You all right?”
“Yeah, yeah, good, yeah,” Jamie said, sounding slightly dazed as he cradled his injured hand with his good one. “Fell. Knocked the table over, cut my hand on the lamp, but I’m good. Yeah.”
Like hell you are, Roy thought, and might have said if they weren’t interrupted by a loud banging on the door. “Jamie, you open this fucking door, you hear me! Kent, I don’t care who you think you are, you posh southern twat, I’ll still—“
Roy stopped listening. “He got a key?” he asked Jamie, who had started violently at the sound of his father’s assault on the door.
“No.”
“Good. Let him tire himself out, then. Or you want me want to call the police?”
Jamie’s eyes widened at that. “No! No, just… don’t do that. Don’t call the police.”
“All right.” He’d have offered to knock the bastard out, but an unconscious man on the porch might cause all sorts of annoying questions; Roy knew that from personal experience. Besides, he had more pressing matters to attend to. “Come on then, let’s have a look at that,” he said, gesturing toward Jamie’s hand. “This the kitchen through here?”
Had anyone told Roy that there’d come a day when he’d find Jamie Tartt not talking back concerning, he’d have laughed them right in their idiot face, but as Jamie silently followed him into what indeed turned out to be a kitchen and obediently took out a first aid kit and then sat down when Roy asked him to, he was just that: concerned, and not a little thrown off-kilter by the turn his impromptu visit had taken. 
There were two cuts on Jamie’s hand, neither of them deep, and Jamie didn’t protest when Roy quickly cleaned them out and put plasters on them. Just sat there, hand held out, letting Roy do whatever he wanted.
Fucking disconcerting didn’t even begin to describe it.
“There,” Roy said when he was satisfied with his efforts. “He got you anywhere else?”
Jamie stirred at that, shifting uncomfortably. “He didn’t— He just shoved me, like. Hit the wall, tripped on me feet and knocked over the table. Fucking clumsy,” he added, more to himself than to anyone else.
“Oi,” Roy said sharply, then pressed his lips together tightly when Jamie flinched. “Fuck. Sorry. You’re a lot of things, Jamie, but you’re not clumsy. This wasn’t your fucking fault.”
Which might have been a hasty conclusion, perhaps, given Jamie’s general propensity for starting fights and the number of time Roy himself would have been more than happy to shove – and do more than shove – Jamie, but given what he’d seen of Jamie’s father, and given what he saw of Jamie now, Roy did not doubt for a second that he had this right. Whatever had gone down, it hadn’t been on Jamie. And hadn’t been the first time either.
“Yeah,” Jamie said, softly. Too softly to sound convinced.
In the quiet that followed, Roy noted that the banging on the door had stopped. Which was a fucking relief, of course, but it also made the silence between them a tangible, thorny thing, stretching out painfully and awkwardly as Roy wondered what the hell to do now. He could  clean out wounds and put plasters on them, sure, and he was fucking brilliant at getting rid of deadbeat fathers, but as for what came after… He wasn’t great with words at the best of times, wasn’t any good at offering comfort – and it wasn’t like him and Jamie were friends. Up until yesterday, and if Roy had been a dramatic arsehole, he would have gone so far as to call them enemies. Yet here he was, in Jamie Tartt’s kitchen, trying to think of one single useful thing to say or do; anything that might draw the loud, obnoxious, swaggering Jamie he knew (and loathed) out of this slumped, muted version of the man.
”He show up here a lot?” he asked eventually, mostly for something to say.
“No.” Jamie’s voice was still much too quiet, but at least he was responding. “He lives up in Manchester.”
Roy remembered a confession made around a sacrificial fire. Bragging about me scoring goals. Calling me soft if I don’t dominate.
“He pissed about the missed goal?” he hazarded. He hadn’t watched the game, but heard enough about it from Keeley to know it hadn’t been Richmond’s, or Jamie’s, finest hour.
But Jamie shook his head. He was fiddling with the plasters on his hand, eyes averted. “Not really. Doesn’t give a shit if I’m not playing for City, does he. Was in town for their game against Palace, decided to drop by.” A small, unhappy shrug, and quick, almost furtive look in Roy’s direction. “Wanted to know what I was getting him for Christmas. Since I’m rich and all.”
“Broken bones and a fucking restraining order if he shows his fucking face here again,” Roy said grimly. When Jamie didn’t react other than to hunch his shoulders, Roy’s eyes narrowed in realisation. “He’s coming back, isn’t he? Bring some mates, wait ‘til I’m gone?” Yeah, Roy knew the fucking type.
A shrug from Jamie, one that said yes.
Roy made a disgusted noise – but at least this meant that there was something he could actually do.
“All right,” he said, straightening from the counter he’d been leaning on. “Let’s go, then.”
Jamie didn’t stir from his chair, just looked up at Roy with a mix of confusion and suspicion. “Why? Where are we going?”
“My place. You’re coming with me.”
“Why?” Sharper this time. More like the normal Jamie.
Roy raised an eyebrow. “Because if your arsehole father is planning a grand return, you not being here when that happens sounds like great fucking idea to me.”
Colour rose in Jamie’s cheeks. “None of your business, though, is it,” he snapped. “I don’t need a fucking babysitter, Roy. I don’t need anything from you.”
He definitively sounded a lot more like himself, to the point where Roy had to actively fight the urge to snap back. It was far easier than it once would have been though; easier to forgive the rudeness when the shame it was meant to hide was still plain on Jamie’s face.
“You think Keeley’d let me hear the end of it if I left you here alone, knowing that that piece of shit might be coming back?” Roy asked, carefully making sure he kept his voice light and dry. Then he sighed, holding a hand up in surrender. “Listen, I’m not going to make you stay with me if you don’t want to, but you’re not staying here either. I can drop you off at Ted’s or… or fucking Isaac’s, if you’d rather. Take you to Keeley’s and bugger off myself, even. Just… fucking come with me, Jamie. Please.”
In the back of his mind, some small part of Roy was wondering how the fuck he, in the span of 24 short hours, had gone from genuinely wanting to smash Jamie’s teeth in to feeling really fucking desperate that the other should accept his help.
He’d need to think on that, probably. Later.
Jamie mumbled something. Roy frowned. “What?”
“I said, your place is fine.” He glanced up at Roy, and tried for a weak, wobbly smirk. “Hear the porch looks dead good.”
Roy barked a short, surprised snort of a laugh. “Was done up by a fucking lunatic, but yeah, I guess it isn’t half-bad.” He jerked his head toward the door. “Let’s go.”
This time, when Jamie went without further protests, it felt like a victory.
---
The drive back to Chelsea was slow, and quiet. When they stopped for a red light, Roy glanced over at Jamie, who hadn’t said a word since he got in the car, and bit back a low, startled curse.
Jamie was crying soundlessly, silent tears running down his cheeks while he stared straight ahead into nothing.
Roy felt a rush of panic course through him. What the fuck was he supposed to do? His first instinct, which was to offer a gruff get yourself together, Tartt would not – of that he was very sure – serve. But what else was there?
Keeley would know what to do. She was great at this emotional shit. Wasn’t scared of a few tears.
Keeley wasn’t here.
It has to be me. It can’t be anyone else.
Keeping his eyes on the road and one hand on the steering wheel, Roy reached out – slowly, carefully – to put his other hand on Jamie’s neck. Jamie was tense under his palm, but didn’t shy away from the touch.
Roy squeezed, once, briefly. “You’ll be all right,” he murmured.
19.
Keeley grabbed a third glass of cava from the tray of a passing waiter, and took a slow sip while she surveyed the room. It was brilliant, this; she was glad she’d come. When Celia, her contact at Bantr, suggested she attend the event to “meet a few people, do some networking” Keeley had felt as nervous as she did excited, with some small, insecure part of her fearing that the other guests would dismiss her as a fraud; an upstart; an ex-model wannabe PR guru.
But everyone she’d met had been perfectly nice and respectful and interested, and had treated her just like a real PR consultant.
Which was only fair. She was a real PR consultant. She’d proved that, too, by setting up several meetings with people who might be interested in sponsoring Richmond, or using the players in their campaigns. All in all, a damned good night’s work, if she did say so herself. (Rebecca had also said it, rather more eloquently and with a staggering number of exclamations points, whenever Keeley rushed off to the loo to text her the good news.)
It might have been a perfect night, Keeley thought, if it hadn’t been for her nagging concern over Jamie (and over Roy, who’d been doing better since he started the pundit gig, but who still struggled to adjust to life outside of the pitch and had taken the whole Secret not-Santa Jamie affair surprisingly hard).
She’d convinced Roy to let her be the one to reach out to Jaime after yesterday’s ill-fated confrontation, but so far Jamie hadn’t returned either her calls or her texts. Well, he hadn’t half an hour ago, at any rate—
Keeley picked up her phone to check, but there was nothing from Jamie. From Roy, however, she had several messages. She opened the conversation, and felt her eyes widen as she read:
Something’s come up and I’m heading back to my place.
Can you come?
I’m bringing Jamie.
Keeley blinked at the screen, and then blinked at it again. The message still said the same thing, compelling her to type out a not entirely unserious reply in a vain attempt to ease her sudden sense of foreboding.
in a body bag?
Roy’s response was immediate.
We’re not fighting.
But he’s a mess and I need your help with him.
Sorry, I know you’ve got that mingle thing.
But can you come?
“Fucking hell,” Keeley muttered, but she was already draining her glass and walking toward the exit. What the fuck was Roy doing with Jamie after they’d agreed it was better if Keeley were the one to talk to him? And why was Jamie a mess if him and Roy weren’t fighting?
And, most importantly of all, how long would the “not fighting” bit last?
She had better get there fast.
---
As it turned out, she must have been closer to Roy’s house than Roy was, or else her Lyft driver was better at navigating London traffic, because Keeley arrived at Tregunter Road before Roy did. She’d no more than let herself in, though, before the door opened again behind her and Jamie, immediately followed by Roy, stepped inside.
Keeley gave a little gasp at the sight of Jamie. There was a small bruise and cut on his forehead, and his eyes were suspiciously red and puffy. Keeley looked to Roy, who hastily shook his head. “Wasn’t me, babe. His arsehole dad stopped by.”
“I fell,” Jamie muttered. He sounded sullen, but the way he was fidgeting with his sleeves suggested nerves or embarrassment rather than resentment.
“He fell because his arsehole dad shoved him,” Roy elaborated.
“Oh.” Jamie hadn’t told her all that much about his dad when they were together, but from what little she’d gained, arsehole sounded about right. She hadn’t known it came with shoving, though. Or worse. “Hey, babe,” she said, walking up to Jamie and reaching out to gently brush a few strands of loose hair out of his eyes, coaxing him to look at her. “You doing all right?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. Just… I mean, things with me dad, they’re a bit shit, but I’m fine, you know. It’s just scratches, this, it’s nothing.” He gestured toward his forehead. There were plasters on his hand, she noticed, and was surprised by how angry the sight of them made her feel. Angry, and heartbroken for the deprecating, resigned way by which he brandished them.
Jamie must have seen some of it on her face, because his weak attempt at a smile faded entirely, and he drew back a little, averting his eyes. Keeley’s heart twinged in sympathy.
“Oh, Jamie,” she said, and then, without really thinking about it, she drew him into a tight hug. After a moment of hesitation, he went willingly, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her neck. He was warm against her, solid in the same way Roy was solid, but unlike Roy he gave himself completely over to the hug, melting into her touch as she ran her hand over his back.
“We’ve got you, babe,” Keeley murmured into his hair. It smelled just the way she remembered it, clean and sweet with spicy notes of fennel leaf and eucalyptus from his Aesop shampoo.
It stirred something within her, that smell, and the feeling of his familiar body pressed against her. She smiled, a little ruefully. Pavlovian.
“I’ll put the kettle on,” Roy said behind them. “You two get comfortable on the couch.”
So Roy wanted a moment to himself but wanted her to stay with Jamie, then. Fair enough. Keeley wouldn’t have minded the chance to talk to Roy in private, get some more details on what the hell was going on, but she could see why he’d think keeping an eye on the younger man might be a good idea; though subdued, there was a skittishness to Jamie that rather gave the impression he might bolt if left to his own devices.
“Yeah, that sounds good, doesn’t it, Jamie?” she said, releasing him from the hug but putting a hand on his arm to steer him toward the sitting room. “Come on, it’s right through here. And I swear, even though it looks like it’s made for people who hate to feel good, Roy’s couch is actually really comfortable.”
Granted, she hadn’t spent too much time on it, as they tended to stay over at hers rather than Roy’s, but there’d been enough evenings curled up in front of a show while Roy made her dinner in what he termed “a properly stocked kitchen” for her to have brought a few pillows (in shades of grey and dark purple, in deference to the black leather) and a huge, soft, pink blanket (in deference to Keeley’s own happiness). (Roy had narrowed his eyes at the blanket, but hadn’t made any protests.)
Keeley sat down, patting the cushion right next to her. Jamie obediently took his assigned seat, and she didn’t hesitate to tug him closer, until he was leaning on her with his head resting on her shoulder. As she began to run her fingers through his hair, noticing how much longer the strands were than the last time she did this, he gave a shuddering little sigh.  
Jamie had always loved to be held.
They sat like that for a while, talking quietly about a bit of this and that, Armani’s new line and Keeley’s job, while the tension slowly but surely left Jamie and he grew more and more relaxed against her—until the sound of steps in the hallway announced Roy’s imminent arrival.
Jamie made to sit up, seemingly concerned about the other man walking in on him half-draped over his girlfriend, but Keeley tightened her grip to hold him in place. Roy had asked her here to help with Jamie; he could hardly object to her doing just that.
As it were, Roy didn’t bat a lid. “Didn’t know if you took milk,” was all he said as he put the tea tray down on the coffee table.
“Uh, yeah, usually, yeah, but it’s fine without.”
Roy didn’t respond, but added a splash of milk from a small jug to one of the cups and handed it to Jamie, and then gave Keeley another before joining them on the couch.
Jamie lifted his mug to his lips, only to immediately lower it again after the first tentative sip. “There’s sugar in this,” he said accusingly, looking at Roy like he suspected the man of trying to poison him.
Roy looked… slightly embarrassed, Keeley noted with some interest and some amusement. “It’s supposed to be soothing, you prick,” he growled, but without any real heat. “My grandad used to make it like that when I was upset. Your next game isn’t until Saturday anyway, one cup of sweet tea won’t do much damage.”
“Oh. All right.” Jamie tried the tea again. “It’s good,” he allowed. “Thanks. And,” he added hesitantly after a moment, “thanks for, you know, doing this. Letting me be here. I never… I mean, you didn’t have to do that, and I know you were upset about the gifts and all that.”
Keeley looked up, meeting Roy’s eyes over Jamie’s head. He looked uncertain, which was a rare but not altogether unpleasant look on his handsome face. He didn’t say anything but gave her a little nod, go on.
“We weren’t upset, Jamie,” Keeley began, but paused as Jamie snorted and Roy rolled his eyes. “Okay, so Roy was a little upset,” she amended. “But mostly because we were confused, yeah? You never got along with Roy and suddenly you’re doing all these really nice things for him and not telling anyone about it and that’s sweet, you know, but it’s also really fucking weird.”
“Yeah. Yeah, it was a bit mad I guess, yeah.”
He sounded more sheepish about it than upset, and Keeley smiled. “Little bit, yeah,” she agreed. Then she sobered. ”And I’m sorry things got weird the other day. I just thought it’d be good for us to talk things through, you know? But, I shouldn’t have tricked you into coming over to my place like that, making you think we’d be working on your brand. We could still do that later, if you want.”
At that, he twisted his head to look at her, a small, hopeful smile on his face. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, sure. It’ll be fun.” It would too. Her skills had developed considerably since the last time she’d helped him with his PR, and there was no denying that she felt a tiny, professional thrill at the thought of finding out just what she might accomplish with Jamie Tartt now that she was a bit more experienced. And God knew his brand could do with some polishing, after the Lust Conquers All debacle.
For the first time that night, Jamie’s grin was undiminshed and genuine. “Mint.”  
“Great! We’ll set something up for after New Year’s, then. A proper meeting this time, I promise. Before that, though… think you can explain it to us, babe? About the gifts?”
He looked away from her. For a long time he didn’t answer, just played with his rings while considering, and sneaking the occasional glance at Roy.
Thankfully, Roy kept quiet.
“Yeah,” Jamie said eventually. “Yeah, all right.”
20.
Roy didn’t have a very high opinion of people in general. He didn’t expect much of humanity as a whole. He was aware that some people might call him a misanthrope (though that was fucking unfair, because it wasn’t that he didn’t like other people, it was that most other people persisted in being fucking idiots and why the fuck should he waste his time on fucking idiots of he didn’t have to?). Given that, it was something of a mystery to him how he still could be continually surprised by the utter absurdity of the things people got up to. Especially if the person in question was Jamie Tartt, because if something was stupid and/or pointless, Roy fully expected Jamie to be all for it. (Though perhaps, he allowed, there were depths to Tartt he hadn’t considered before. Sides he hadn’t seen, and mightn’t necessarily hate.)
Yet here he was, fucking perplexed by what he’d just been told, seemingly in all earnestness, by the little tosser still wrapped in Keeley’s arms.  
“You wanted to make me happy,” he said flatly. “Because the universe sent you a dream that that’s what you had to do if you wanted to see your mum.”
“I think it’s sweet,” Keeley interjected, shooting Roy a warning look. He rolled his eyes at her, because excuse him for being a tiny bit baffled by this batshit logic.
But he also subsided, because none of them needed this to turn into another shouting match.
“I think it’s sweet,” Keeley repeated firmly, turning her attention back to Jamie. “And I believe the universe does send us signs sometimes. But babe, do you think that maybe you got a little caught up in the doing good stuff bit, and forgot about what it really was you were trying to achieve?”
”Yeah,“ Roy agreed quickly, feeling that on this at least he had some relevant thoughts. “Jesus Christ, Tartt, if you want to make things right with your mum, you need to talk to your mum. Mucking around with other people – sending secret gifts and shit – is just putting it off and getting you nowhere.” He crossed his arms and gave Jamie a pointed look. “You need to stop making excuses about what the universe fucking wants you to do and go see your mum.”
“Yeah,” Jamie murmured, pulling at the hem of his hoodie. “I… I know that, all right? I know. But, I just thought… I mean, it’s… it’s fucking hard, okay? So I thought that maybe, if I, you know, if I could tell her that it was all okay now, that I’d made nice with everyone, then she’d… I thought it’d be easier, like.”
Something small and soft in his voice, causing Roy’s bemused irritation to melt away (and alarmingly quickly too, which was irritating all on its own). “And you thought getting me a bottle of whisky would make everything right between us, did you?” he asked drily, mostly to cover the entirely unreasonable surge of… not affection, but something a whole lot gentler than the active dislike he’d reserved for the other until today.
“Mate, that whisky cost more than your watch,” Jamie informed him haughtily, sounded for a moment rather like his usual self. “It was right hard to get hold of, too. Had to get the year of your birth, right, you even notice that? And besides,” he added before Roy had time to answer, in a far more plaintive voice, “You wouldn’t talk to me. I fucking tried, remember? Was dead polite about it and all, but you were a mean cunt just like always—“
“Oi! Don’t call me a mean cunt when you’re sat on my fucking couch and cuddling my girlfriend, you twat.”
“Uh, then don’t call me a twat—“
“Boys,” Keeley said sternly. “We were having a decent time here, yeah? Don’t go ruining it with your testosterone.”
“Sorry, Keeley,” Jamie immediately offered, the little suck-up. Roy gave him a sardonic look – since when did Jamie apologise for anything? – but kept quiet. Keeley did have a point, didn’t she?
His restraint was rewarded by a warm but knowing smile from Keeley and a mouthed thank you, even as she resumed running her hand through Jamie’s hair. Jamie hummed happily and snuggled even closer, his earlier concern about Roy’s reaction to Keeley holding him apparently forgotten.
And it was odd, because Roy should have thought he’d be jealous, given how worked up he’d been over Keeley’s past with Jamie back when he first started fancying her. And maybe he was, just a bit (because Keeley looked stunning and he hadn’t kissed her since this morning and it would be pretty fucking lovely to just hold her for a moment), but mostly the sight of them, with Jamie curled up against Keeley like a cat and looking unguardedly relaxed, made him feel… He didn’t quite know. Warm, maybe. Protective. Something in him ached, but not in a bad way.
”It never was about me, was it?” he mused aloud. “The gifts, the fucking plane and carollers, it was just something you had to do to make things right with your mum?” That ached too, unexpectedly; in a bad way.
Jamie scrunched up his face. “No. I mean, yeah, yeah, of course it was, in the beginning, but like… it was about you too, especially in the end? I liked knowing I did something nice for you, yeah? Like, I could make Roy Kent feel good and that made me feel good, you know?”
Oh. Yeah. Roy did know all about how sometimes making others feel good was the only way you could feel even remotely good about yourself. He just hadn’t thought that be something he’d ever have in common with Jamie Tartt of all people, or that Roy’s well-being would ever be of any concern to Jamie’s.
“And you did… “ Jamie sounded fucking shy, although he tried to mask it by pretending to inspect his nails very carefully. “I mean, you did, right? Like it? Some of it?”   
Roy’s first instinct was to say not, because… Well. Because. But looking at Jamie and seeing the way he was trying so hard to appear casual while sneaking little peeks at Roy while waiting for an answer, he found that he didn’t have the heart for it.
“The plane was a little over the top,” he finally allowed with a sigh. “But other than that, yeah, Jamie, I fucking liked it.”
21.
Maybe he was dreaming again, Jamie thought. Kind of had to be, because how likely was it that he would actually be chilling in the home of Roy – Roy Kent! – while Keeley – best and kindest and sexiest Keeley! – let him lean on her and kept running her fingers through his hair in that way she knew that he loved?
It felt real, though. Felt nice and warm and a little float-y, a far fucking cry from the sickening shame and fear of the early evening when Roy had rushed in like some knight in shining armour to chuck Dad out. And it’d been fucking humiliating to have Roy – Roy Kent! – see Jamie like that, fucking shivering and dumb and then crying just from a few nasty words and a shove, but there’d been relief in it as well.
Someone knew, and the world hadn’t ended. Someone had seen, and hadn’t walked away, or called Jamie a pussy for letting his dad talk to him like that, push him around like that.
Roy had cleaned out his wounds instead, and brought him home.
It was weird, the way a day that had started so badly and only gotten worse could somehow turn into what might be one of the best evenings of Jamie’s life. A proper Christmas miracle, like.
“Which one was the best?” Keeley asked suddenly, breaking Jamie out of his revere.  
“Eh?”
“Best adaptation of A Christmas Carol. Deciding that is what led to all this, right,”—she indicated the three of them—“so I just wondered which one was the best.”
“The Muppet Christmas Carol,” Roy said before Jamie even had time to open his mouth. “It’s not even a contest.”
Jamie shrugged. ”We didn’t watch that one.”
Roy’s head snapped toward Jamie. “What?” he asked, sounding as baffled as he did furious.  “The fuck do you mean you didn’t watch that one?”
“Um, that we didn’t? We, like, all voted on which ones to see, and that one didn’t make the cut, so.”
“Fucking Ted,” Roy muttered, looking genuinely upset. “How the fuck is he going to get you back to the Premier League if he can’t even make calls as easy as that. Jesus Christ.”
“Maybe you should come on as coach,” Jamie suggested innocently. “Make sure we don’t miss any other important movies.”
“Don’t be a dick,” Roy said. “And we’re watching The Muppet Christmas Carol right now. Can’t fucking believe I was haunted by the ghost of Christmas pricks and he hasn’t even seen the only relevant version.” He stood up from the couch. “I’m getting a beer, you want anything?”
At Keeley’s wine for me, please and Jamie’s a beer’d be mint, cheers mate Roy gave a short nod and disappeared to the kitchen.
“I wasn’t being a dick,” Jamie told Keeley confidentially. “I mean, I was, but I think he’d be dead good as a coach. Ted and Beard and Nate, they’re all great, but we could use someone who actually knows what it’s like to play the game, do you know what I mean?”
“I know! He’d be so good at it! And I know he really, really misses football, even though he doesn’t want to admit it. I could hardly get him to try the pundit gig, though, so I’m not sure what’d convince him to start coaching, even if Ted, or someone, asked. He’s so fucking stubborn.”
“Thick-headed twat,” Jamie agreed, though the snark was tinged with a fondness he hadn’t expected to ever feel for Roy, not since the first time he actually met the man and he proved to be a massive cunt. But maybe Jamie had been just a little bit hasty in his judgment last year. He wasn’t always right, after all, as surprising as that would be to people.
Roy returned with the drinks, pausing with narrowed eyes as they both swivelled to look at him.
“Were you talking about me?” he demanded.
“No,” Keeley said, guiltily.
“Yeah,” Jamie said, not guiltily at all. Roy was a thick-headed twat; the fact that he was also weirdly sweet and kind of like a super hero or some shit didn’t change that.
“Uh-huh. I was thinking we should order some food too. Indian fine with you?”
Indian was fine with everyone. Roy promised to get Keeley her “usual”, told Jamie which items would work best with his meal plan, and called in the order. Then he returned to his corner of the couch, and he didn’t say anything about it, but Jamie noticed the furtive and decidedly longing look he shot Keeley.
Keeley must have noticed it to, because she gave Jamie’s shoulder a little pat. “Come on, sweetie, let’s switch it up a little, eh? I think Roy is starting to feel left out.”
“I’m not—“ Roy began, but Jamie was already moving, scrambling to his feet while he felt his cheeks heat up and his heart freeze. The fuck had he been thinking? That he could just stay like this, getting all cosy with Keeley while Roy sat alone in the corner? And after making them spend the entire evening looking after him when they were probably just dying to get some time alone, too. Fucking stupid. Selfish.
“I can go if you want,” he hastily offered. “I mean, I should probably go, right? Yeah. But, like, it’s been great, so thanks, uh, thanks for having me.”
“Jamie, no,” Keeley said, looking distressed. “That’s not—“
“You’re not going anywhere until you’ve seen the movie,” Roy added firmly. “Fact is, you should probably stay the night, just in case your piece of shit dad decides to drop in on you again.”
“He probably went home already,” Jamie admitted reluctantly. He really wasn’t keen on going back to his empty house and the broken glass still on the floor, especially if the alternative was a sleepover at Roy Kent’s, but it felt like a bad thing, lying about his dad just so they’d let him stay. “Or is about to, anyway. Too cheap for a hotel if I’m not paying for it, ain’t he. Him and his mates usually takes the last regular train back to Manchester.”
“All right.” Roy kept staring at him, gaze dark and penetrating. “You should stay anyway,” he said abruptly. “Just in case. It’d… “ He paused, looking up in the ceiling and looking like he’d rather stab himself in the eye than continue. “It’d make me feel better,” he eventually gritted out. “Knowing that you’re here. So. Stay. Please.”
“Yeah, Jamie,” Keely quickly interjected. “It’d make us both feel better, yeah?”
Jamie, still wide-eyed and open-mouthed from the please, could only nod. “Yeah, okay, if you want, yeah,” he croaked.
“Great!” Keeley beamed at him. “And I didn’t mean we can’t keep cuddling, babe, I just thought we’d shift around a bit, make sure everyone’s included, yeah? Like this.” And she moved over to the other end of the couch, sidling up next to Roy and leaning back against his chest. He immediately put an arm around her, and pressed his lips against hers in a kiss when she turned her face towards him in invitation.
Jamie had found the sight of them kissing disgusting once. Now, it sparked something else; heat, and a sense of quiet longing.
And then Keeley looked up at him, raising her eyebrows expectantly. “Come on, then.”
Jamie looked to Roy, to make sure he really was okay with this.
But Roy just gave him a nod. “Go on.”
So Jamie went, laying down on the couch with his head in Keeley’s lap, and gave a happy sigh as her hand immediately went back to his head, scratching idly at his scalp and running her thumb over his neck.
“Don’t fucking fall asleep,” Roy ordered as he started the movie. “You’re paying this the attention it deserves, Tartt, you hear me?”
“Yes, Coach,” Jamie said, and grinned when Roy growled and Keeley giggled. Huh, he thought. Really is a fucking Christmas miracle, innit.
---
Roy had been right. It was the best version.
22.
And then it was Christmas Day. Jamie arrived at Nelson Road bright and early, to make sure he’d catch Ted and clear the Manchester trip before training started.
Roy had been very insistent on it, making a point of fixing Jamie with a glare before headed out the door yesterday morning. ”You need to ask Ted permission to go,” he’d said. “You can’t just fuck off to Manchester the day before a game and not tell him.”
“Uh, yeah, I know? Not me first year playing in the big league, gr— Roy.”
Roy’s eye had twitched a little at that, like he was biting back a sharp retort, and Jamie had scowled at him. You run out on a team one time (and for very good reason!), and suddenly everyone thinks you’re Mr. Unreliable.
“But it’s Ted,” Keeley interjected. “There’s no way he won’t say yes, long as you make it back in time.”
“I don’t think he’ll say no, that’s not what I’m fucking saying, I’m just saying he needs to ask,” Roy grumbled, so sullenly that Jamie felt his irritation melt away and a grin grow on his face.
“I’ll ask,” he promised. “First thing when I see him. Be super polite and humble and that.”
“I’ll believe that when I fucking see it,” Roy said, but his eyebrows softened a fraction into what Jamie had started to suspect was a secret sort of weird Roy smile.
And then Keeley gave him a long hug and Roy gave him a short nod that felt kind of like a hug, and Jamie went out to his Uber feeling like he could walk of fucking clouds.
As Keeley had predicted, Ted was perfectly happy granting Jamie permission to take the train up to Manchester, provided he promised to return the same night. It’d only give him a few hours with Mummy, but that was far better than nothing, and Jamie thanked the gaffer, if not profusely then at least with real sincerity.
He also handed him a parcel, feeling slightly stupid about it. It had seemed a good idea at the shop yesterday; now it just seemed weird. “It’s nothing,” Jamie muttered, “and I didn’t want to give it to you before I asked, ‘cause I thought maybe it’d seem like a bribe or something. Just… I guess I wanted to say thank you. For letting me back on the team and all.” Admittedly, Ted would have been mad not to, but Jamie still remembered the sinking feeling when it had seemed like he would anyway, so yeah, he was grateful. “It’s not me trying to buy your affection or anything either, okay?” he hastened to add. “Just, thank you.”
“Good call, because my affection’s one thing you cannot buy.” Off Jamie’s falling face, Ted quickly added, “Which is to say, you don’t need to, because you already have it, gratis and free of charge. But I appreciate it all the same, that’s very thoughtful of you, Jamie. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Coach.”
It had been an impulse, buying the bourbon for Ted. Jamie had been picking up a Secret Santa bottle of ògógóró for Sam, right proud that he’d thought to ask for a Nigerian spirit. Sam had been feeling homesick last year, hadn’t he? And then he’d spotted the bourbon and that’s what the Americans had instead of whiskey, wasn’t it, and maybe Ted felt homesick at times, too, and apparently getting people gifts were becoming a habit now, because Jamie had bought the bottle without thinking too much about it.
It had been a close call, though, with the Secret Santa gift. Keeley had asked him about it when they were having breakfast, wondering if he’d gotten it yet, and Jamie had admitted that he had not and had maybe hinted at not doing so at all.
“You’re not getting anything for Secret Santa?” Keeley asked, looking upset or maybe disappointed, which made Jamie squirm. He didn’t want her to be upset or disappointed with him.
“I didn’t know I had to,” he tried to explain. “Besides, I haven’t had time ‘cause I was doing all that shit for Roy. But I’ll, I’ll pick up a bottle of booze on me way, yeah?”
And good thing he did, too, because as it turned out the secret bit of Secret Santa was only secret until it was time to actually hand out the gifts. If the lads had realised that Jamie had failed to bring Sam of all people anything, they wouldn’t have liked it. Come to think of it, Jamie wouldn’t have liked it much either, now that he understood how the whole thing worked.
“Thank you, Jamie, this is lovely,” Sam said, pulling him into a one armed hug and leaving Jamie feeling pleased and warm – a feeling which only grew stronger when he looked up and caught Keeley’s eyes through the window to the coaches’ office. She smiled at him, and winked.
He winked back.
Loved her.
Then there were other gifts; more hugs and good wishes; and finally Isaac stood to deliver a very long and very dramatic declaration of an old Christmas poem Jamie vaguely recalled having heard in school. He didn’t remember it being this exciting, but maybe Mr. Jones just hadn’t been as good at reading poetry as Isaac was.
It was all good fun, but as nice as hanging out with the team now that they weren’t upset with him anymore was, Jamie found himself itching to leave, and by the time Isaac solemnly declared this year’s Secret Santa session over and the holiday begun, Jamie nearly flew out of the dressing room and into his car. Thankfully traffic was unusually decent, or he wouldn’t have made it to the station on time.
The train ride was uneventful; a couple of people asked for his picture but no one wanted to whine about Amy or Lust Conquers All or Richmond’s poor performance so it was all good. A little kid told him he wanted to be just like Jamie when he grew up and play football just like him and wear cool clothes like him, too. “Good lad,” Jamie said. Always sweet to meet a fellow fashion forward individual.
He took a cab from the station but asked the driver to drop him off by the Minimart, and walked the last half mile. It was nice to move around a bit after sitting still for so long – and he rather liked strolling through his old neighbourhood. He’d outgrown it, sure, but it was still in his bones; coming here still felt like coming home. Felt like something dropping away and something else slipping into place as he walked through the underpass where he’d had his first smoke; as he went past the house where Auntie Delilah had lived until she died of breast cancer a couple of years ago; as he finally came to halt outside his mum’s tiny yard.
Jamie paused for a moment. He had texted Mummy this morning to let her know he was coming, even though he’d been nervous to. What if she wouldn’t seem happy about it? But of course she had; had seemed ecstatic, what with the string of emojis and exclamation marks.
Even so, standing outside the familiar door, with the familiar plastic wreath hung on it, Jamie hesitated. He could smell Simon’s baking all the way through the door. Could hear Mummy sing along to Merry Christmas Baby. Home, just on the other side of that door.
Taking a deep breath, Jamie raised his hand and rang the bell.
23.
The door swung open before the soft chime of the bell had faded. ”Jamie!”
Mummy, beaming at him, and before he even knew it he was in her arms, wrapping himself tight around her and stooping to bury his face in her neck and just hold her as she clung to him in turn.
“Hi, Mummy,” he murmured, inhaling the familiar scent that was comfort and safety and home.
He could hear the bright smile in her voice. “Hi, baby. Oh, it’s so good to see you!”
And it seemed to silly, suddenly, such pointless and foolish waste, that he should have stayed away for so long, kept himself from this for so long. Just from the way she’d lit up at the sight of him it was so fucking obvious that there’d never been anything to fear, and nothing to gain but loneliness and heartache for them both.
And he had known that, deep down, hadn’t he. And yet.
Fucking stupid.
Jamie made a low, frustrated noise.
Mummy noticed, of course she noticed, and she didn’t let him go or try to pull back, but she asked, “Jamie? Is everything all right, son?”
“Yeah. No. I mean, it’s… Listen, Mummy, I need to tell you, but it’s… and I’m sorry I haven’t been around much, yeah? Haven’t called enough, I should have called more. But things— And I’m sorry, yeah? I just— ”
“Jamie, baby,” Mummy interrupted, kindly but firmly, as she kept running her hand over his hair, just like Keeley had a couple of nights ago “Whatever it is, it’s going to be all right, I promise. There’s nothing you can do or say that would make me love you any less, you know that.”
He nodded against her shoulder. “Yeah, I know.” He did know. Had never doubted it.
Somehow that had only made it harder.
“I just want you to be happy.”
And yes, he knew that too, but that was the crutch of it, wasn’t it? The truth he’d wanted to keep from her. “I haven’t been, much,” he mumbled, a whispered confession, the thing that lain between them brought out into the soft light of the hall. His unhappiness, and underneath it what had caused it and what it had led him to do.
She did pull back at that, lifting her hand to his face, running it over his cheek. “Yes, son,” she said quietly. “I know. And it broke my heart that you wouldn’t talk to me about it, but you’re your own man, Jamie. If you don’t want to tell me things you don’t have to. I’m here for you, whenever you need me to be. But yeah, it did hurt when you stopped coming around, even though I knew you were busy. You don’t need to tell me everything, my gorgeous boy, but please don’t shut me out just because you think you can’t.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I didn’t… I wanted to talk to you, I did, swear down, but I just didn’t know— “ He fell silent with a small shrug.
Georgie nodded. “All right. Do you want to talk about it now?”
“Yeah, okay.”
She smiled at that, encouragingly like, and Jamie smiled back. Felt some of the tension bleed away, some of the regret ease. It had been shit, staying away and shutting her out, but they were here now; it would be all right.
“Let’s go sit down then, and we’ll have Simon bring some sweet treats. He’s been in the kitchen all day since you said you were coming.”
Oh. Jamie made a face. “Sorry, I should have called earlier, given you guys more time—“
“No, hush now, none of that. You’re here now, Jamie, and that’s all that matters, yeah?”
Sighing, he pulled her back into a tight hug. There were a lot of them to catch up on. “Yeah, okay. I love you, Mummy.”
“I know, baby. I love you, too.”
24.
Due to lucky timing or – more likely – a long-honed sense for when Jamie and Georgie were ready to be interrupted, Simon stepped into the sitting room to announced that dinner was ready about half a minute after the hour-long, and occasionally weepy, talk was winding down to general cuddles.
Jamie got up to greet him with genuine enthusiasm. He’d already moved out by the time Simon moved in, but he liked the man well enough. He’d been dead good for Mummy, and Simon had always been decent about giving her and Jamie space, never seeming to mind that Georgie tended to focus all of her attention on Jamie whenever he was around. Which was only natural, given that Jamie was her only son and a fucking great one at that, but some men might have been pissy about it, so Jamie was still glad Simon wasn’t one of those.
“Tried to make a few extra sides that won’t mess with your meal plan, I know you’ve got a game tomorrow,” Simon said as he ushered them towards the carefully set table.
They’d gotten a new cloth since the last time Jamie was here for Christmas, a rustic looking light grey number, but the pink plates with a pattern of golden Christmas trees around the edge were the same ones Jamie had given her when he was 17. Simon had matched them with green napkins, intricately folded around small golden sprigs of plastic mistletoe, and pink and gold ornaments scattered across the table.
“That’s nice, that,” Jamie said, because it was, and Simon beamed at him.
The dinner was nice, too, the traditional turkey and trimmings complemented, for Jamie’s benefit, with a French omelette with smoked haddock, a large salad, and a small bowl of liberally spiced brown rice. It took Mummy most of the meal to fill Jamie in on all the latest neighbourhood gossip, but there was a fair bit of chatter about football as well, and a couple of minutes devoted to Simon’s new knife set. It was fun, and easy, and by the time Simon got up to put the kettle on and Jamie went out into the hall to collect the bag of gifts he’d brought, Jamie was feeling more relaxed (and fuller) than he could remember doing in… well. A fucking long time.
As they settled on the couch with their tea cups, small glasses of mulled cherry wine and a frankly shocking array of sweets (of which Jamie allowed himself exactly one small slice of candied orange dipped in chocolate and sprinkled with sea salt), Mummy fretted slightly over not having any proper gifts for him there. “We had them sent over your place, since we didn’t think you were coming. I’m sorry, love.”
“No, yeah, I know, got them last night. Haven’t opened them yet, though, ‘cause, uh, I wanted to see you first.”
She smiled, and pulled him close to smack her lips against the top of his hair. “Do it first thing when you get home, and every last one of them will be a kiss from me.”
“I will, Mummy.” He’d be getting home after midnight, and by rights should head straight for bed to make sure he was in good shape for tomorrow’s game, but knew he would take the time to unpack the carefully wrapped parcels. Knew his mum would likely be up and ready to respond to any excited reaction texts he might send.
Jamie apologised for the randomness of the gifts, sheepishly admitting that he’d spent too much time getting Roy stuff to think much about anyone else; they waved away his regrets and oooh:ed and aaah:ed enthusiastically at the blanket (Georgie), the cookbook (Simon), the weekend getaway in Cornwall (both of them), and the other things Jamie had picked up rather hurriedly yesterday.
Merry Christmas (I don’t want to fight tonight) came on. Grinning cheekily, Mummy got to her feet, pulling Jamie up with her as she went, and then they were dancing all across the sitting room, laughing and loudly singing along, the way they’d always done when Jamie was a kid.
“Oh, baby, you’ve gotten dead good at this,” Mummy said a little breathlessly after Jamie had spun her round in a complicated twirl, and he nodded, pleased that she’d noticed his mad moves. “I’m a footballer, ain’t I. Gotta be quick on me feet.”
The song ended and the far slower Have yourself a merry little Christmas began to play. Jamie released his mum to Simon, and as the two of them swayed slowly to Judy Garland’s soft crooning, Jamie took the opportunity to sneak away for a bit, going up the stairs to his old room. It looked pretty much exactly the way he’d left it when he moved into the Academy residence. Mummy (or Simon, probably) kept it clean, but hadn’t moved any of his stuff or done anything about the general messiness of the room. Only the Keeley poster had been a later addition, and only because having semi-nudes up at his academy room had been frowned upon and he’d still been minding the rules back then.
Mad, to think that he’d ended up dating her. Mad, that he’d played with Roy Kent, the one player whose poster he’d never taken down (although he’d come close, the first time he was back home after joining Richmond and Roy had proved to be a massive cunt, but it had felt like letting Roy win somehow, so it had stayed up).
Madder still, that only two nights ago he’d been curled up with both of them on a couch in Roy Kent’s house.
Grinning, he pulled out his phone and called Keeley. Yes, it was late and it was Christmas and it might be a prick thing to do, interrupting whatever celebration they had going, but as much as he was trying to be better, Jamie hadn’t gotten to where he was by not going after what he wanted. Besides, they’d want to know how things had gone, wouldn’t they? Keeley would, at any rate.
His assumption turned out to be correct because Keeley not only picked up, but smiled like she couldn’t be happier to hear from him. “Jamie, hi! You doing all right? Are you up in Manchester?”
“Hi, Keeley. Yeah, I am, yeah.” He paused, taking a moment to just look at her, taking in the loveliness of her face, before adding, “Talked to me mum. It went great. I mean, I was a bit nervous, but it went great, yeah, so it’s all good now.”
“Yeah?” Her smile softened. “That’s amazing, Jamie. Really glad to hear that.”
“Yeah. So, uh, I just wanted to call to tell you and, and, say thanks, I guess. For, you know, telling me I needed to go here. And, uh, merry Christmas.”
“You’re welcome, Jamie. Merry Christmas.”
“Oi!” Roy’s voice, off-camera and sounding unusually high over the speakers. “Keeley, do— Oh, sorry, didn’t realise you were on the phone.” A pause. “That Jamie?”
“Yeah. He’s up in Manchester, come say hi.” Keeley shifted a bit, angling her phone to include Roy in the picture.
Jamie raised an eyebrow. Roy must really be into Christmas, because he was actually wearing a patterned tie with his black shirt and black suit jacket. A dark patterned tie, admittedly, but it had got little golden dots on it, which was far more festive than Jamie would have thought Roy could ever manage.
Then again, he’d had to rethink a lot of his thoughts on Roy in the past two days.
“Hi,” Roy said, sounding… not unsure, exactly, but… not not unsure either. A little reserved, but in a way Jamie, canny reader of people that he was, suspected had more to do with uncertainty over their new relationship status, rather than any real desire to be an arse.
Jamie didn’t blame him. He was feeling a little uncertain himself (which was still a new and not particularly fun experience). Things had changed between them since Roy rushed in to find him crumpled on the floor—but how exactly, and into what?
He guessed they’d find out, and fuck, wasn’t that an interesting thought?
“Hi,” he said. “Merry Christmas. You enjoying the holiday, yeah?” He nodded towards the tie, smirking just a little. (It was a decent tie. Roy looked well fit in it. But if the man didn’t want people taking the piss when he donned a bit of colour he shouldn’t make such a point of always wearing black then, should he?)
Roy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m loving it. Spent the afternoon knocking on random doors looking for a dentist for my niece, that was a fucking riot. And,” he continued before Jamie had the chance to ask what the hell he was on about, “some nitwit had this John Case box set delivered to my door this morning, because apparently some people have no idea when to fucking quit.”
“Yeah?” Jamie asked, unable to hold back a grin, because while Roy’s word had been gruff, there was a small smile in his eyes that said that they weren’t really. “Think that sounds like great gift, mate. Real thoughtful, like.”
Roy just snorted, but Keeley was clearly holding back a laugh, her eyes shining as they wandered between Jamie on her screen and Roy.
“It’s the last of them,” Jamie promised, just in case Roy actually thought he’d be keeping this up forever from now on. “But I’d already gotten it, so… “ He shrugged.
“It’s fine,” Roy said, then added off Keeley’s not at all discreet elbow to his side, “I mean, thank you.”
Jamie was about to tell him not to overdo it or he’d burst vessel or something, but was interrupted by his mum calling his name from downstairs. “Sorry,” he said. “Gotta go. Be heading back in thirty minutes, so I wanna make the most of it, right?”
“Yeah, of course,” Keeley immediately said (almost covering Roy’s muttered we’re really not stopping you). “Go. And good luck with the game tomorrow, yeah? I’ll be in the box with Rebecca, cheering you on.”
“Decent, yeah. Um, thanks again. Merry Christmas.”
As he moved to end the call, Roy suddenly said, “Jamie, wait.”
Jamie waited. And waited, because whatever it was that Roy had on his mind, he apparently had a hard fucking time getting it out of his mouth.
Eventually, Jamie’s patience wore thin. “Mate, I’m not being funny, yeah. I really gotta go. You maybe wanna send me a fax instead?”
“Oh, that’s very funny,” Roy growled. “The fuck happened to you not being a prick, huh?” Then he made a face, looking pained. “Actually, and I can’t fucking believe I’m about to say this, but maybe sometimes you need to be a prick. Not to people,” he added with narrowed eyes, having apparently caught the way Jamie lit up at that, “but on the fucking pitch. I mean, sometimes. Not all the time. But sometimes, being selfish and going for the shot and getting in the other players heads by being an utter cunt like only you fucking can is better than passing the ball.”
Jamie gaped at him, but before he had time to say anything or ask how the hell he was supposed to know when it was the right time to be a prick, Roy muttered a curt, “That’s it. Bye,” and ended the call.
“Um, rude,” Jamie told the black screen. He was half tempted to call Keeley again, just to tell her bye properly (and maybe tell Roy… something, Jamie wasn’t totally clear on what, because Roy had been rude, but he’d also told Jamie to be a prick sometimes, and had almost smiled at him several times, and that was all just a bit confusing), but he hadn’t lied when he said he wanted to make the most of his time with Mummy before he needed to leave for London again.
“We’re not done, mate,” he told poster-Roy sternly, before adding a far softer, “Good night, Keeley,” to poster-Keeley
And then he headed downstairs, back to Mummy and the rest of his Christmas, and then – when he’d hugged her ten times or a hundred – he headed to London, back to his team and the rest of his life, and it came to him as he sat on the train with the midwinter night speeding past him, that he was travelling both from home and to home and that it was well fucking mint.
25. Epilogue
Roy called her in the evening, as Keeley was carefully removing her make-up in front of the bathroom mirror. It had been a long day, a stifled Christmas lunch with her mother followed by Richmond’s home game against Norwich in the afternoon. At least Richmond had won, managing a by the skin of their teeth 1-0 after a late and defiant goal by Jamie.
She thought she’d seen him looking up at the VIP box as the team celebrated around him, and she’d blown him a little kiss, even if she knew the distance was too far for him to catch it.
Next to her, Rebecca had raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow in a perfect expression of slightly sceptical interest. “And here I thought you were here to support me.”
“I am here to support you,” Keeley had said firmly. “Because I’m an amazing friend and I’d show up to support you with chants and balloons of cute animals and stuff at your murder trial, especially if Rupar’s the victim. But I told you, he’s been having a rough time of it.”
Not telling Rebecca about what had gone down with Jamie and Roy the other day had never been an option. Rebecca had listened with a frown, and asked if she needed to do anything about James Tartt. Keeley had said no, for the moment: Jamie needed to be the one to make the call on that.
“Hey you,” Roy said now, looking properly fit in the black suit he usually put on for his pundit appearances (and which, to the untrained eye, looked identical to all his other black suits, but Keeley knew him and fashion better than most, and thought the Hugo Boss was a particularly nice look on him).
“Hi, babe.” Keeley propped the phone against a moisturiser bottle, so she could continue her routine while they talked. “You back from work then?”
“Yeah. Took fucking ages, because Cartrick wouldn’t fucking shut up. You’d think he’d run out of things to be wrong about after six hours, but no, if the filming crew hadn’t started making noises about needing to go home to their families, we’d still be there.”
Keeley hummed in agreement, even though she suspected Roy was maybe exaggerating things a little. Sometimes it was best to just let him vent belligerently for a bit, get it out of his system. Besides, it was lovely to have him care about things enough to be pissed about them again. Roy was a passionate man, and Keeley loved him for it; having seen him go through the motions with nary a flicker of true feeling throughout the autumn had been awful.
Speaking of caring… “You catch any of the Richmond game?” she asked.
He grunted. “We didn’t really cover any of the Championship games, but yeah, saw some of the highlights.”
“Jamie played well, didn’t he? Seemed a little more aggressive than he’s been lately.”
Roy grunted again, but kept his mouth stubbornly shut. Not ready to talk about the advice he’d given Jamie last night, then. Fair enough; it’d keep.  
Roy kept on saying nothing, though, when normally he would have tried to move on by changing the subject or asking her about her day. When Keeley glanced over at the screen she saw that he was looking unhappy, dark eyebrows furrowed.
Keeley cocked her head to the side. “You all right, babe? Something on your mind?”
“No, it’s… “ He paused, and she waited, until finally he let out a frustrated huff. “It’s just Jamie’s fucking dad, right?” His lips curled. “I can’t stop thinking— Jamie was in a right fucking mess when I walked in on them. Not physically, it was just scrapes, but he was so fucking quiet. It wasn’t natural, not having the little muppet run his mouth like he was getting paid for it.”
“He seemed all right after,” Keeley said hesitantly, because Jamie had, when he left them on the morning of Christmas Eve and when they talked to him yesterday. Happier than normally, even. But Roy was right, it seemed a little strange in retrospect, that he had shaken it off so completely, given the state of him when she first arrived at Roy’s three nights ago. “You think he’s used to it,” she realised aloud. “That’s why he bounced back so quickly.”
“I know arseholes like that, okay? My sister fucking married one. So yeah, I don’t think it’s the first time it happened, and it probably won’t be the last either, and I keep on fucking wondering if his dad’s the reason he walked out on City, and City’s playing Chelsea in a couple of week s and I—“ He paused again. “I know it’s fucking stupid, it’s none of my business. I don’t even like the prick.”
Keeley had a sneaking suspicion that that wasn’t quite as true as it once had been, but she didn’t mention that. Let Roy reach that conclusion when he was ready to. “I think it’s sweet,” she said instead. “The way you stepped in when he needed you to, and took care of him. I mean it,” she added off his predictable eye-roll. “I’m really proud of you, babe. And,” she pressed on, because it was true and because she knew he tended to get a little uncomfortable when things got too earnest, “it was kind of sexy, too.”
Roy’s eyebrows rose at that. “You thought me taking care of Jamie was sexy? What happened to your thing being me crying pathetically?”
“Girls have deep and complex tastes, Royo. So yeah, you being vulnerable and passionate is really hot, but as it turns out, you being all caring and protective and fetching tea really gets me going as well.” She smiled at him and he scoffed, but smiled back. “Seriously, though,” she continued, “I was thinking we should ask Jamie over some day. Just hang out a little, make sure he’s all right.”
Roy’s eyes narrowed. “You better not be suggesting we invite him to Sexy Christmas.”
“No,” Keeley said with a small a laugh, even as the thought of it sent a pleasant shiver through her. Sex with Roy was fantastic. Sex with Jamie had always been amazing. Both of them, and with the way she suspected their tastes would run exceedingly compatible, with her and with each other… Well. A girl could dream (and maybe have a wank once she got of the phone with Roy). “But dinner sometime soon, yeah?
“Fine,” Roy said, sounding like he was only reluctantly agreeing to do her a favour, but she knew him well enough to see the relief in his dark eyes.
Fuck, but she loved him. The way he cared so deeply, even when he didn’t want to, and even when he would sneer at the assertion.
“You’re so fucking hot,” she told him. “I can’t wait for the 28:th.”
He smiled for real then, that wide grin he reserved for just her and sometimes Phoebe and his sister. “Me neither,” he agreed. “I’ll see you then.”
“Yeah, see you then. Love you.”
“Love you.”
They hung up, and Keeley yawned. It was getting late, and she had to be up early tomorrow, for an entire day of what was supposedly just a bit of informal mingling for publicists, a little holiday get together on Jace Asthon’s country house, but which was in actuality the networking opportunity of the year for people in her line of business. She needed to be well-rested and looking ready to slay for this one, and had a bunch of people and business to read up on, potential sponsors and partners for Richmond.
She still took the time to send a couple of texts before turning out the lights.
hey jamie
got any plans for new year’s eve?
She hardly had time to set the phone down before it pinged with his reply.
Doesn’t really give a shit if I’m not playing for City.
Something slid into place then. “Is that why you did Lust Conquers All?” Roy asked. “To get away from you dad?”
Jamie didn’t answer, but that just said it all, didn’t it?
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heretowritesstuff · 1 year ago
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Hey everyone
So this is my first bit of writing on here
I know it's definitely not the best but I hope you all enjoy it. I felt we needed a bit more jeremy Allen white content on here you know :)
No warnings at all
Just setting a scene for hopefully a good story
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Chapter 1 the beginning
"Okay, that’s great. And cut!" Charlotte yells at the crew
"Hey Andy, that was great?"
The actor breathed a sigh of relief as she jogged toward the iconic actor who had been struggling to get the scene and finally nailed it
Charlotte has been working as a director for years.
She started as a child in some local community theatre pieces and found out that she loved the camera just as much. As much as she had tried to be in front of it her insecurities got the best of her. And through that, she discovered the magical world behind the scenes.
“Thanks, char! Do you need anything else? I hope that take works I was feeling it and felt like I knew- “
“Andrew! That was amazing, perfect shot, perfect take. You were perfect!”
The amazing spider man actor smiled and slightly blushed at your compliments
“It’s a great film, bound to get you nominated with the academy-“
“Andy Andy Andy… let’s not stress me out just yet let’s just get the movie done”
As Andrew had opened his mouth to say something
She heard her name being called in the distance
Her assistant is taking a quick walk towards her while chatting away on a call
Charlotte excused herself from her cast and stepped aside with her long-term friend and new assistant Mia.
Mia rushed toward her slightly out of breath
“Char, I have your agent on the line who in turn has a casting agent from Variety on the line and they would like to book you for an exclusive next Friday”
“Oh my god yeah of course sure, I’ll check the schedules but we should be all set”
Mia nodded and rambled back into the phone line, she glanced up as Charlotte asked
“What interview is it?”
“Actors on Actors,” Mia said quickly
“But I’m not an act-“
Mia got distracted by another voice on the line and mouthed her a quick sorry
MEANWHILE IN NEW YORK
Everyone is cheering, champagne is flowing while laughs are being shared. They had wrapped season 2 of the bear and everyone was a mix of happy, sad, and relieved
It's funny how it may have been a fake kitchen but the tensions were still so real.
Jeremy was sitting in the embrace of his costar Ebon Moss-Bachrach, laughing at some embarrassing set story when he glanced around at the set of the beef which they had called home for almost 3 years.
He was born and raised in New York but truly made a life in Los Angeles. When you spend 11 years on a project they become family. And He had created a family in many ways and no matter how much fun he had he can't help but feel a bit homesick
“Hey Jer, you doing okay?” ayo asked the blue-eyed boy who was staring into the distance
Jeremy shook his head lightly, getting the thoughts to lose, smiled at her, and said “Yeah I'm great, excited to finally get some damn sleep and order takeout for a while”
The cast laughed followed by Liza saying “oh hell yes I am not going near my stove for at least a month”
They all laughed at this, agreeing that even a microwave meal would be better than working on a stovetop for a while
Just then Jeremy's phone rang
He grabbed it hoping to see a familiar name on the screen, he sighed seeing his manager's name.
He excused himself and went to answer it
“Hey Mark what's up?”
He says leaning against the brick wall of the building, running a hand through his slightly greasy hair. He's not sure if it's hairspray, sweat, or just his hair at this point
“Jeremy! How's my guy doing? Congratulations on season 2. Listen. I have an offer for you. Nothing heavy just an interview for Variety”
“Um Mark that sounds great it’s just, I dunno man I have some things to sort out and “
“J, I know. Listen I don’t need a confirmation right now. Go home, lemme me know in like 2 days and I can book it. If not we grab the next one okay”
“Yeah okay”
After a bit of casual small talk, they say their goodbyes and hang up
Jeremy looks at his phone to see yet another news headliner, some cryptic messages, and a few check-ins. He rubbed his forehead wondering where everything had gone so wrong. How did he get here, something was missing. And it wasn’t the result of what had just happened. That would have been obvious
After he returned and enjoyed a few hours with his cast, he decided fuck it. Not much waiting for him back home. And messages Mark
Jeremy
: Hey bro, I’ll do the interview. When is it?
Mark
: are you sure man? It is next Friday with variety. It’s one of the actor on actors interviews
Jeremy
: Yeah that’s great
Can you find out who it’s gonna be with?
Mark
: I’ll work on it
Jeremy smiled at the reply and was content with this choice
Something about this decision just felt right
_____________
Thank you so much for reading
Lemme know if you would like a part 2
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partnersatfazbear · 1 year ago
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FNAF Movie - Full Review / SPOILERS
Alright, my full review after seeing the film once in theatres, under the cut:
Let me preface by saying a few things. I've been a fan of the series since Sister Location and if you follow my blog, you know my main interests would be William and Henry going into the film. Let me say: Henry was not in the film. :( In fact, nothing of Fredbear's was even referenced. Yeah, we expected too much... You may also know how bleh I am towards Vanessa as a character, especially after her botched introduction in Security Breach. That doesn't change here. I went in expecting to hate her inclusion and as expected she adds nothing to the film. But let me start from the beginning..
The first ten minutes is so good. The opening feels like a horror movie and sets the tone really well. Characters, although many, are introduced fairly quickly, including a very stereotypical / evil Aunt Jen (Aunt Jane). Given her actress, I should have expected that... Luckily, she has such a minor role in the movie that it doesn't detract. In short, she wants custody of Abby and wants it now.
Michael was the shining star of this movie. Without his character being everything I'd ever want from a character, I would probably rate this movie way lower. He's a little brooding, he's fucking trying his damndest to raise Abby on his own, and the movie opens with him having major anger problems. PTSD does that to you, though.
Shortly after Michael beats up some guy walking off with his kid, we get to a meeting with his career counselor, Afton (under a different name I don't recall--it's shown a lot in the trailers). But before I say that, I wanna discuss where I thought the film was going... If you played the games you know William is Michael's father. That is NOT the case here, very very very much to my disappointment. When we see an angry father drag off a kid and Mike get upset about it, I thought perhaps it would allude to Michael's troubled childhood. Nope. He's got different problems, which aren't really bad, but I really wish they had kept that familial connection given the scene following with Mike and ("Not")Afton. William recognizes Mike's name, which at this point it's unclear why. If a fan goes into this, they already know William was going to say Schmidt--Michael's alias in the games. My thought here was maybe William abandoned his family and recognized Mike, but Mike didn't recognize him. Again, more on that later. Anyway, "Not"Afton invites Mike to a job at FNAF as a security guard, which due to the night shifts, Michael can't take yet.
But Aunt Jane is back trying to get custody (god, this trope is so badly used here, but it serves it's purpose) and so Mike HAS to take the job before he's evicted from his home and loses Abby. Abby also has some problems of her own. She wasn't around during Mike's life-changing incident, but she is his sister. Due to their parents splitting/dying/whatever I don't even remember it's so unimportant, Abby also isn't told about said incident. She draws a lot, too. (I loved being able to see a bit of my version of Charlotte in her, so that was nice!)
Note: Mike's Dream Theory book is not only plot relevant but a funny nod to the infamous FNAF 4 Dream Theory. Also, MatPat shows up as a waiter very briefly.
Mike takes his first shift, leaving Abby with a babysitter. I know her actress' face, but her character is like a slew of others about to be introduced as 90's slasher fodder. Mike's first night is mostly uneventful, but he takes his sleeping pills and puts on Sounds of the Trailer Park Nature tape and gets a nap in where he recalls a camping trip with his family (unnamed mother, father, and little brother Garret). Garret is quickly kidnapped in a car--and because it's so different from how Charlotte's death is portrayed in FNAF 2, I actually didn't put it together until the 2nd or 3rd short dream sequence. I can see some people not liking these sequences, but for me it made it feel more like it's own movie, it's own thing--it felt like an original horror film and I loved these sequences a lot. They don't overstay their welcome, either.
Now the film kinda goes downhill. Aunt Jane actively PLOTS to get MIke fired to win custody of Abby. It feels very cheesy and it's... kind of bad writing. It serves it's purpose as her character does, but it's a really low point for me. We see she's hired the Babysitter and Unnamed Man A to go trash Freddy's when Mike isn't there in hopes to get him fired. There are two other people as well. Unnamed Person B and Hank (or, Uncle Hank as he was called in casting). And no Hank is NOT Henry--he's just an adorable buff bear that screams like a girl and he's excellent for the short time he appears.
Proceed with them trashing Freddy's and having a nice, quick sequence of them all being picked off by the animatronics. There's good nods here, especially Chica in the kitchen. Chica is a bad ass bitch in this movie and I really enjoyed how everyone (except Freddy) had a pretty solid personality. Foxy even gets a bit of a run sequence, but this may have been later in the film...
Vanessa was introduced somewhere between all this, I don't remember. Everytime she's on screen she's like a paper doll (no complaints to her actress, she was great), but she's... Generic Cop Y. She chunks a few "Don't investigate, Mike"s and "This place's backstory, Mike!"s and that's her character for 99% of the film. Hate it, hated her inclusion from the start, and she TRIES to be romantic with Mike but luckily the movie's plot cuts her off really quick. There isn't a kiss scene or anything like that, but there's a scene where she wants to dance with him and another heart-to-heart that gets cut off by her police radio and both were so dull and boring I will not recap them as her character only serves to infodump to the audience (and Mike) and it's bland and I hate it.
Mike returns to the Pizzeria with his sister since the animatronics killed the babysitter, and she wanders off and makes friends with the animatronics. During this time, Mike starts seeing a group of five children in his dreams that shouldn't be there. We all know who they are and after an 80's style montage of Mike, Vanessa (again...), and Abby building a fort with the animatromos, we learn Vanessa knows who they are.
My wife and I both thought Vanessa would be like... Suzie's sister. You know, something kinda fun and different and help her relate to Michael more and have a stake in the movie. Nah, nah fam. Scott's bad writing shows badly with Vanessa and it gets worse.
I am skipping some stuff, but namely you should know that Mike almost leaves Abby with Aunt Jane forever after Vanessa threatens to literally shoot him if he brings her back after Abby almost dies activating Bonnie's guitar. It seems kinda odd, since Vanessa was encouraging Abby to play with them, but it's supposed to.
Mike goes back for another shift to investigate further with the dream children and knowing that Abby has been seeing the ghost children and talking to them. The children promise to show Mike who kidnapped Garret (again, you should've figured it out) if they offer up Abby. He agrees at first, but then he wakes up and is nearly killed by all the animatronics. I really miss the bit from the games where they wanna kill Mike because he looks like his father, not because Mike broke an arbitrary promise and the animatronic kids are evil (similar to the novels... There's a lot of novel influence here, and this INCLUDES a Golden Freddy kid who is basically FF's Andrew / TOYSKHK from UCN).
Vanessa rescues Mike off-screen and Mike returns to Freddy's with a taser after learning she's Afton's daughter. Yeah. Remember that old deleted / AR email "Vanessa A."? The movie tries to get you to think it's clever by naming her Shelley or something, but no, A COP is the daughter of a SERIAL KILLER. Not like game Afton, either, where he started killing with Charlotte. No, he killed Garret too. Why? Who fucking cares, the movie isn't gonna tell you because... why bother. Also I don't remember when it happens but Vanessa also explains the springlock suits when they find one in the storage of Freddy's that looks a lot like Eleanor / Baby. The springlocks themselves aren't as much like the novels / comics and more like a robotic ribcage that slams shut (think Saw 3's Angel Trap but in reverse).
Speaking of, in the intro to the movie we see a device that's basically a Freddy head with blades inside it where the user is strapped to a chair to have their face sawed off (as is the fate of Security Guard A). Never explained. Only shown again with Mike very late in the film and he escapes rather easily... I DON'T KNOW what the point of this Saw trap is except to provide trailer fodder! I wanted to believe it was the SCUPER, but guess fucking not. You could remove this from the film with literally NO CONSEQUENCES.
Abby finally stops throwing a fit and wakes up to meet Golden Freddy and a dead Aunt Jane (so much for her, I guess). This taxi just fucking ubers her and GF to Fredbear's. I guess the driver thought he was a creepy cosplayer, but the entire segment is played for laughs (which is fine, I guess) but also makes no sense. it's an excuse to get Abby to Freddy's and show off GF. Who, by the way, disappears as quickly as he appeared in the movie, which is kind of shitty considering how important he's played up in some of the original screenshots we saw.
Mike goes to save Abby at Freddy's, electrocuting a bunch of the animatronics with the tazer Vanessa gave him after saving him off screen and taking him back to the police station and info dumping. If she hadn't said that was where Mike was I would've thought it was still Freddy's TBH. Oh, Vanessa? She's not gonna help because she's "scared of her daddy" -.- Just fucking kill me Vanessa it's better than sitting through your shitty character.
Abby is nearly put into the Saw trap by Chica, but Mike saves her. However... THE BEST PART OF THE FILM IS HERE GENTLEMEN. Spring Bonnie finally makes his appearance.
William/Bonnie can somehow magically control the animatronics (it's not explained) and so they all start attacking again. Which is it? Mad at Mike? Want Abby for their kiddy carnival? Or William wants them to kill to build his found-family of child labor force? I DON'T KNOW, IT'S NOT EXPLAINED.
Spring Bonnie's intro is fucking glorious, but it is disappointing we didn't get to hear him hum the Toreador March. In fact, it isn't in the film anywhere that I recall.
Tangent for a second because the march song, the power down noise (despite the power going out 3 times during the film), and the Freddy bonk are ALL ABSENT. Key elements fans wanted to see... not here.
Vanessa tries to shoot daddeh but Spring Bonnie's bulletproof~ Fuck you, it's FNAF, I guess. (It's a bad ass scene though. And Lillard's Afton is everything I wanted. Just creepy enough to not be a Criminal Minds villain but just twitchy enough to be how I imagined William). In a tussle, Wiliam tries to strangle Vanessa (I audibly cheered for him--kill the bitch, Will) and he stabs her shortly after when he brandishes the knife on Mike. Thank God.
Abby shows the animatronics her drawing with Mike's instruction, revealing and reminding them that Afton / Spring Bonnie killed them. They all descent on him and when Cupcake takes a very familiar bite out of Spring Bonnie (see: Springtrap), the springlocks start going off. The animatronics cart off William to the back. Admittedly, I was a bit disappointed it wasn't MORE dramatic, but I think that it would have upped the rating... so I'll let it slide. Mike and Abby leave with Vanessa's "corpse".
Vanessa is in a coma at the hospital. Fuck this movie.
Mike and Abby are happy, although Abby misses her friends. Mike has learned to look forward instead of back, giving him a decent character arc. I think if Garret's killer had been random it would have been better... except my theory for FNAF 2 is that Garret may end up being our Puppet! I really hope that's the case!
There's a final scene of William in his FNAF 3 glory, twitching as Spring Bonnie and reaching out for the door closing on him, in a very "Hello, Zepp" theme kinda way. I LIVED FOR THIS IT WAS EXACTLY HOW YOU'D WANT IT AS A WILLIAM FAN. Andrew/TOYSKHK/GF ghost closes the door on him, showing that at minimum he hasn't moved on, although I suspect the others haven't either.
Only cut in to the credits is that taxi driver again. No post-credits scene of Springtrap. EVERYONE in my theatre stayed the entire time (Living Tombstone song was great) but we all left a little sad about that. It was one of many odd decisions plaguing this movie, but not entirely out of the realm of possibility if you have any experience with Scott's writing. So... I went in expecting the worst, wishing for some things we didn't get to see (FREDBEARS), BUT I left loving this movie. As my wife said if we had a No-Vanessa-Cut I'd give this movie a perfect 10/10 despite the odd writing choices. She's about 45% of those choices.
I hope they leave her for dead so we can watch a PERFECT movie for Part 2.
In conclusion, A-. Good acting, score, effects. Dialogue didn't come off wierd and there's a ton of fun references for fans. A mostly good story with some weird inclusions that slow down the pacing at times. Lack of post-credits scene was disappointing to all and lack of Fredbear's disappointing to all Willry shippers. Also, casuals may be annoyed at how little screentime William gets overall. Fans of the animatronics will die over this film--they shine with Henson's work behind them. Bonnie has toebeans. I love them. Spring Bonnie is a hulking behemoth and I wish he was shown more. Just go see the fucking movie, even if you aren't a fan of the games. It's a fun little romp.
EXTRA NOTES (rewatched on streaming):
I wonder if the Saw trap thing will get explained in a future installment. A big thing now having seen the film is how to set up part 2. If it's a prequel, Mike won't make sense. If it's a sequel, it changes the lore slightly.
THE PIXEL INTRO OMG I CAN'T BELIEVE I FORGOT TO MENTION IT. IT'S SO GOOD. I LOVE 'YELLOW RABBIT'
I was VERY confused on WHEN the movie took place on my first watch. There's a very minor establishing shot that reads 4/6/2000. Unsure if this date is / will be important. Luckily the use of VHS and flip phones does help give a timeframe as well. (Saw crossover, anyone?)
I really wish the ghost kids in the real world (namely, at the end in the Pizzeria and in the final shot of William) were transluscent. IDK if this was a stylistic or budget choice. It doesn't bother me in the dream sequences but it's a touch I wish was added for viewer clarity (a problem this movie and Scott's writing in general has)
I didn't get to rant about Spring Bonnie enough lol But one thing that really does show his power is how he tosses Mike around like a footballer and stomps like he owns the place. The other animatronics are very stilted and slow in comparison, showing the difference well between an animatronic and a springlock suit. I also LOVE how accurate the suit is to the few models we've seen of Spring Bonnie. It's bulky to hold a human, but it's also bulky to show William's power and ego. I can't remember if I mentioned before when he first shows up and has to adjust his stance to stand up straight--it's a very powerful and evoking moment! (Probably helps that Lillard is very tall to begin with...)
A small thing about streaming VS theatre: way easier to see details in the theatre. I highly recommend you experience this film on a big screen or a very large TV (our 50" is not enough). Also, alot of the backgrounds in the film are purposely blurred, which is kinda weird? But little things like the details on the chalkboard, the map in Not!Afton's office... you'll kind of miss that on home viewings.
I didn't say this enough but the lack of Fredbear's really sucks in the long run of letting this movie soak in. There is literally no mention of Henry, Fredbear, or the diner. Vanessa's photo is at the diner in question where the film takes place. I feel like it's a very personal decision on Scott's part to completely ignore Fredbear's (I even partially suspect because of blogs like mine with a specific ship in mind, but I won't read a lot into that as I have an anxiety disorder) But to completely disregard a big chunk of the lore that fans are really dying for feels a little like a slap on the wrist for spilling juice on a new carpet. Like, come on, Scott. This kinda sucks. It doesn't diminish my love for the film (or this continuity) but as a fan it really hurts. I don't think clarifying Fredbear's in any way, given us more insight to Henry or William, would harm everything, but it is what it is.
A minor detail I noted early on in my theatre watch was how all the Yellow Rabbit drawings are pretty centralized on the wall of drawings in the restaraunt. Not only does it draws the viewer's eye (especially an unsuspecting viewer's) but it adds to William's narcissism / ego as a character. If you look at it in that light, the scene with Abby ripping down the drawing is way more impactful!!
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local-hyena · 3 months ago
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Back with l'Étrange Festival, I have just seen The Thief and the Cobbler. First of all, I absolutly LOVED this movie ! It was hilarously absurd, the animation style was a delight and I loved all the characters.
Now, I don't know much about this movie. When I was reading the synopsis on the festival website, it said that this movie was never completed. Also, a TON of people went to see this movie. I can't even describe how LONG the queue was. I have heard the people behind me talk about the director. I have no idea who he is and what are his other works.
I made some quick researches when I got home, and learned that there are multiple versions of this movie, including one where Tack talks, there are songs, and the thief narrates too. The version I saw had none of that. Before the movie began, a man told the theatre that this specific version was unique. He said that they struggled to obtain it, and put subtitles themselves for the public. Is it possible that I've seen a "brand-new" version of this movie ?
I'd say it was 1/3 fully animated and 2/3 sketches/storyboards. There was one missing scene, and it was shown with a black screen with "missing scene" written in white. The movie has been shown at the Forum des Images in Paris, at 9:30 pm, if you want to inow the details.
EDIT : I have checked the Recobbled version. I have checked a few scenes and it looks very similar to the one I saw, except one scene at the beginning (so far) : when there is the intro narration, à character wraps his hands around the sphere. In the Rzcobbled version, those hands are rather clean (as in, clean lines, colored), however in the version I saw today, the hands were rough sketches.
But let's go bavk to the movie itself. Like I said, I LOVED it. The whole theatre was laughing through the entire film. I especially liked the backgrounds. How they were made of optical illusions and intricate patterns. How the characters interacted with it, and the visual gags that were made with them.
My favorite character was Tack. I absolutly adore his character design. One thing I found was a genius move was using the nails as his mouth. Since he doesn't have a mouth, the position of the nails are used to express emotions, like so :
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I also appreciated that he was not speaking, like the thief. Showing a character's intention and emotions without a single word is always impressive. Of course, he talked at the end. "I love you". But man. Why was his voice so deep ??
Anyways.
My favorite scene was the destruction of the One-Eyed's mechanical fortress. Everything was in tones of red and black, hundreds of soldiers falling like they were toys, wood and metal and weapons and fire crumbling and spiraling around the thief. Unmoved, unbothered thief, who has an interest in the gold balls and nothing else, not even the destruction around him.
I liked the thief too. He was the funnies of the bunch. I loved how he spends the whole movie stealing/trying to steal stuff, using the most ridiculous devices, and at the end, he just gives up.
Of course, the Nanny. Just a frail old woman. With arms made of steel who can crush you in an instant. What à sweet old lady.
Princess Yum Yum was also interesting. I liked that, along with being a princess, she seemed strong-willed enough to go save her city.
And of course, Zigzag. I love villain characters, and I loved how ugly he was. The way his face streches was hilarous to me.
I'm running out of things to say, but I sure LOVED that movie. I think it's safe to say that it's one of my favorite movies now :]
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booktomoviebrawl · 1 year ago
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We are not judging how bad the movie is, we are judging which adapted the book the worst. There are good movies that are bad adaptions.
Propaganda below the cut (spoilers may apply)
The Seeker: The Dark is Rising:
Painfully generic-dumbed-down-fantasy-action trying to channel better film franchises instead of the atmospheric, mythopoetic and lyrical children’s book it is technically based on. Bonus points for the open contempt people involved had for the source material, both in how they treated it and what they said about it.
BAD. Bad bad bad!! They completely changed Will's character. In the books he does get frustrated sometimes, but is mostly kind and patient and really makes you believe that he is both an ancient being and an 11 year old boy and in the movie they changed it so he's like really mad and angsty and just the total opposite of his actual character!! Absolute butchery. And they cut the Wild Hunt! And changed a bunch of other plot stuff and it overall just sucked.
where do I even begin. they made the main character American for no reason (this is perhaps the most egregious change), aged him up to 14, and added a straight romance subplot. they were so indecisive during production that they CUT AN ENTIRE MAIN CHARACTER in the time between the trailer and the actual film release. they completely fucked up all of Will’s family stuff. in pursuit of “relatability” they got rid of everything that makes the book good and put in THE most generic, poorly written, poorly acted (except Christopher Eccleston, who did okay), and poorly produced garbage. it was in theaters for like…less than a week; we were supposed to see it for my birthday but it was already gone. it doesn’t even have, like, half-decent special effects. it is an insult.
Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children:
While Miss Peregrine was one of my favorite books as a kid and incredibly unique in the way the story is written (The author basically took a box of weird antique photographs and created an underlying story behind a handful of them) the movie is incredibly boring. Like seriously I can't remember a single goddamn thing about the movie besides my extreme disappointment with it after leaving the theatres. It's probably because the original is a trilogy but they didn't want to make it a trilogy for the movie so they just scrapped the ending of the first book and rewrote a shitty climax where they threw snowballs at the nightmare child eating creatures or something. I remember THAT scene perfectly because it was so, so dumb. It was so stupid oh my God- ALSO, thank God I have a copy of the book from before the film came out because new copies don't have one of the photographs that the actual book uses as a base anymore and instead have the shitty movie poster! We truly do live in a society.
Changed way too much so it doesn't feel like the same thing. The main characters are these kids with different abilities (called peculiarities) and the movie switches around their powers and changes almost everyone's age. Emma and Olive switch powers so that Emma now floats (they also added that she can kind of control air to some extent) when she's supposed to have fire powers to match her fiery personality. Olive can make fire now and she's also aged up from an eight year old to a teenager and put her in this weird romance with Enoch. Enoch is also aged up from a grumpy thirteen year old to around the same age as Olive. Bronwyn, one of the older kids in the book and sort of a motherly figure to the younger kids, is now one of the youngest kids. Hugh and Fiona are aged down and basically have no interaction at all in the movie, even when their book counterparts had such a good relationship. The only one they didn't really change was Horace and Jacob. They also added these gorgon twins that do like two things. The antagonist in the movie is Mr. Barron who honestly isn't super memorable and isn't in the books whatsoever. The ending of the movie is weird too because they manage to turn back time somehow so Jacob's grandfather isn't dead and then he hops through loops so he can be with Emma and the other peculiars. I guess the problem of wights and hollowgasts is magically eliminated and we do not have to deal with the consequences. It took six books to fix everything. I appreciate that the movie engaged me enough to read the series but once I did, I could not believe they did my kids that dirty.
Yikes where to start. The 3 girl characters are all mixed up. There are 2 teens, one who's super strong and has a brother (I'll get back to him) and one who controls fire and is the love interest named Emma. The third girl is a child called Olive who floats. She's lighter than air.
In the movie, strong girl is the child, olive is now the fire girl and is for some reason super introverted, and Emma the love interest floats and gets given a super breath??? Power?? Like she rises a sunken ship by blowing in and keeps a man blown against a wall by blowing air at him. He makes a remark that she'll run out of breath eventually, which happens here because plot convenience, but not when she's blowing in the sunken ship.
The enemies in the book are terrifying Hollows. Creatures who have lost themselves and devour souls of those with powers... The movie decides they eat eyes now. And turn human again. And get busted up in a fair for the final act of the movie. Ugh.
The movie also decides randomly that time travelling through the loops is a thing; a loop being a pocket of time that replays the same day over and over. But apparently this means Main Character can travel back in time and stop his grandfather dying??? What?? His grandfathers death is the whole start of the movie and motivation for the character.
The movie undermines many of things that made the book amazing and even decides it's not a trilogy anymore!! Fuck the other 2 books, right?!
Tldr; it is terribly hollywood-ised and t tim Burton ruined a franchise by trying too hard to make it quirky and fun when the books already had a brilliant sombre and interesting tone to them.
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glittiris · 1 year ago
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The Barbie Movie
This weekend I got all glammed up to see the Barbie movie! Before I share my thoughts on the movie itself, I want to complain about the people who were in the theatre. There were two teens smacking their lips on their popcorn and being gross. Just because it’s dark and we all can’t see you, doesn’t mean we can’t hear you. Go home and practice chewing, you filthy animal. There was someone behind me kicking my seat throughout the movie and moving me around with their stupid feet or legs. I don’t care how tall you are, you need to learn how to control your limbs. You’re not a baby deer. Then there was some old hag saying “Yes, right. Yeah. Mmhm. Yes. Right” in agreement with what one of the characters in the movie was saying in a speech about womanhood. Who stars in this movie? Hmm..Yeah, right...Not you. So shut your mouth.
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Basically, all versions of Barbie and Ken live in Barbieland which is a “perfect” world where the women have all the power and men are an afterthought. One day, Barbie starts experiencing human feelings, functions and starts questioning her reality because someone in the real world who is miserable starts playing with her and these feelings from the human are affecting Barbie. Barbie and Ken go on an adventure to the real world to find this human so that Barbie can go back to her perfect life, but while in the real world Ken discovers the patriarchy and Barbie discovers that the Barbie doll line hasn’t made the real world a “perfect” society run by women like she thought it did. Ken then goes back to Barbieland and changes things so that Barbieland is now run by the male dolls, Barbies are slutty accessories to the Kens and are pushed out of all the jobs/roles they had prior to Kens taking over. Then Barbie and the miserable human work together to return Barbieland back to normal which is obviously successful, and Barbie decides she wants to become human because she feels she doesn’t belong anywhere in Barbieland. The end. 
There are a million things to discuss about this movie and I don’t know where to begin. I have a lot of thoughts. Before the movie even came out, people were worried that it would be a Boys vs. Girls plot and that it would be a bad thing. Well, it was part of the plot and I personally believe it was well done. Although all the male characters are idiots, the plot isn’t “girls rule boys drool” and if that’s all you took from the movie, you’re weird. If you watched the Barbie movie and you think it’s brainwashing people into wanting the world to be run by women only, you’re weird and need to chill out. 
One thing I had in mind while watching the film was the controversy surrounding some trans women demanding to be allowed into women’s sports. The reason I thought about this was because it’s males infiltrating a space specifically made for females, which is what happened in the movie. Barbieland is a space intended for women and the Ken dolls force themselves on top in that space that isn’t intended for them. It felt very similar to what happens when people are too scared to say no to transgender people. Trans women are born male and expect to be allowed into female only spaces like waxing salons and sports. The movie has nothing to do with transness, but it just reminded me of how males just find every way to make something for women for them too. 
I also thought it was interesting that the inventor of Barbie in the movie said that nobody looks like Barbie and that she herself is just a “5’7 woman with a double hysterectomy.” I understand why having a diverse cast of Barbies is important, but I think it’s bizarre that people are still so uncomfortable with the main Barbie being a thin, white, blonde, blue-eyed, fashionable woman. Barbie is a canvas and not intended to physically represent women as a whole or what women should be on the outside. She represents what women are capable of. It’s like when people get angry that fantasy characters in video games never look like them. The whole point is to play as someone or something that isn’t you. The character is their own person and if you want to play a game with a character that looks like you, play a game with a character customization screen. Same thing with Barbie. She is herself; you are you. None of the Barbies look like me and I’ve never cared about that because it’s just a doll. I just thought she was a pretty doll. I think it’s wonderful that there’s more skin tones for Barbie, but no matter how many different Barbies they make, there will never be one that looks like you. 
I enjoyed the movie. It was very thought provoking and funny. I can’t stop saying “mojo dojo casa house.” Ryan Gosling is sooo fine. If Barbie doesn’t want him, I’ll take him. Pass me that slice of hot man ass.  
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wheelin-after-midnight · 12 days ago
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23.
Have you ever had stitches?
Yes, several.
2 - Who was the last person to shake your hand?
I think my sister in law's aunt's new husband did a couple family dinners ago. I'd never met him before.
3 - What was the last thing you bought when you went to the grocery store?
I had groceries dropped off the other day, so a bunch of things. I don't feel like listing them all.
4 - How often do you find yourself needing to do laundry?
Once or twice a week.
5 - Coke or Pepsi?
I won't make a big deal about it if only Coke is available, but I'd choose Pepsi most of the time if I have the choice.
6 - When was the last time you struggled to get to sleep?
Every night of my life, lmfao.
7 - What did you have for your last meal, whatever that was?
Rice with butter, soya sauce and tuna.
8 - Do you have anything fun planned for the upcoming weekend?
No. Maybe family dinner on Sunday, but it depends if I feel up to it or not.
9 - Which of the four seasons is your favourite?
Summer!
10 - Do you still have all four of your wisdom teeth?
Yeah.
11 - If you drive, do you enjoy it or is it just a necessity?
I don't drive.
12 - Do you prefer sweet or salted popcorn?
Salted.
13 - When was the last time you were in pain? What caused it?
Now. Chronic venous insufficiency.
14 - Are there any textures that you have a weird aversion to?
I hate the taste and texture of oatmeal unless it has at least brown sugar and cinnamon in it. Preferably 3% milk and fruit or something too, but that's not an absolute necessity.
15 - What was the last thing you said outloud and to who?
"Nippy, are you napping in the closet?" to my cat when I didn't see her anywhere else around the place.
16 - When was the last time you got up from where you're sitting and why?
An hour or so ago to go to the bathroom.
17 - Have you been diagnosed with any chronic health conditions?
I have a few, unfortunately.
18 - Are you an early bird or a night owl?
I can be both, and I make sure I'm awake early if there's something I need to do or somewhere I need to be at a certain time, but I definitely usually prefer the night time.
19 - What are some of your favourite Christmas movies?
I really struggle with liking or being happy around Christmas for a really long time. I don't really watch Christmas movies anymore and usually act like the holidays aren't even happening as much as I can to protect myself from my feelings around them. I do love The Preacher's Wife and sometimes the Jim Carey version of How The Grinch Stole Christmas.
20 - Have you ever met up with someone in real life that you first met on the internet? Was it just as good as you hoped?
Yes and yes.
21 - Who was the last person to text you? What about call you?
Text was babe. Call was my Dad.
22 - What are some of your favourite smells?
Coffee percolating, book pages, lilacs, fresh cut grass.
23 - Are you more hungry or thirsty right now?
I'm neither. I just ate that rice I mentioned and drank some blackberry bubly water and peach mango kombucha.
24 - When's the next time you plan on going to the cinema and what will you be going to see?
I don't have anything planned right now. I just went at the end of October and again at the beginning of December. Next time something comes out I want to see and Brittany can come and I have money to get us tickets, we'll go back. I hadn't been to the movies at all in over a decade until like a year and a half ago. I saw quite a few things after that and it made me remember how much I loved going. Especially seeing things in the Screen X theatres instead of just regular. If y'all have a chance to see something in one of those, I recommend it. If you don't know what that is, definitely google it. They're really cool. I also forgot how much I loved movie theatre popcorn. I always get a giant one and bring it home to snack on for a few days afterwards. It's good for my mental health to have little things to look forward to regularly, too. Not just to be stuck here focused on my health or how my life is spiraling or whatever.
25 - Would you rather watch a film at home or in the theatre?
I can't afford to go to the theatre like, continually, and we have to drive about an hour to get to one, but I'll definitely go any chance I can. Sometimes we do movie and junk food nights together here too, though. Brittany will order theatre popcorn through uber eats or go pick up snacks or pick me up so we can go for a little drive and pick up Starbucks and pizza and snacks or whatever we feel like. Then we come back here and rent something and hang out and eat or lay in my bed or whatever and she'll leave at like 1-2 am. I have a decent tv, so I don't mind doing this instead of actually going out.
26 - If you have pets, what colour are they?
She looks grey in a lot of photos, but she's some kind of dilute calico or dilute tortie. She has lots of light orange through her coat if you look closely. You can definitely see it when you're with her in person. My camera is not great though so doesn't always pick up on it too much.
27 - Did your parents have any influence over the music you like?
I happen to like some of the same artists or bands as my parents, but not because they influenced my tastes. I differ with them in the things I like more than I don't.
28 - When was the last time you rode a horse?
I rode a pony as a kid.
29 - Has your style changed much in the last few years?
Not really.
30 - Do you prefer real books or audiobooks? What was the last one you read or listened to?
I don't remember the last physical book I read. Since my Nan's death I don't have the focus or motivation to read like I did. It's audiobooks more often than not, these days. I'm in the middle of My Love Story by Tina Turner.
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thetarttfuldickhead · 1 year ago
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A Jamie-centric pre-OT3 Christmas story told in 25 short chapters.
Masterpost / AO3
1. Prologue
This is a Christmas story. It begins—
—in December, in London, and with the whole of AFC Richmond spilling out from a theatre in an animated gaggle of waving hands and raised voices.
“Nah, you’re wrong, bruv,” Isaac told Jamie emphatically. "This shit's way better than Mickey's Christmas Carol." 
Jamie rolled his eyes at that insane opinion and set out to explain how Isaac was as wrong as wrong could be (but respectfully, like), while behind them Moe was explaining something about capitals to Thierry and Bhargava handed Dani a tissue.
After Ted had shown them Scrooged for their last team movie night, a heated debate on the best adaptation of A Christmas Carol had led to a seven night movie marathon ending with Isaac taking them all to The Old Vic for the stage version. 
Jamie, something of a theatre expert thanks to Keeley, had helpfully informed everyone that talking to the characters or shouting suggestions during the performance was not allowed, because even though that was still a fucking stupid rule – just imagine someone trying to introduce that to football games, the fans would riot and they’d be right to – that was the sort of thing Jamie did now: he was helpful. Was a team player. Gave useful tips to people before they made fools of themselves, rather than gleefully afterwards. It wasn’t always as much fun, no, but sometimes good in a different sort of way. And it wasn’t like he had much of a choice, anyway; the team had made that plenty clear when he returned to Richmond.
“All right, lads, I’m off,��� he called to them now, giving up on trying to convince Isaac of the errors of his taste. Too cold for it. “Got me car over by Park Plaza.”
“See you tomorrow, boyo,” Colin said, clapping him on the shoulder.
“Good night, Jamie.” Sam’s smile was still just this side of tentative, but it seemed sincere enough and Jamie couldn’t help but smile back. He was all right, Sam.  
With less than three weeks until Christmas, the London night was chilly as Jamie made his way through it. No snow, naturally – though not unheard of, a white Christmas in the English capital was uncommon indeed. Not that chances were much better up in Manchester.
Manchester. The thought of it brought a small frown to Jamie’s face. He knew he ought to go up there after the game on Boxing Day, to visit Mummy and Simon. Before he was loaned to Richmond he’d always spent Christmas at home; last year, he’d blamed the distance and the fixtures for not being able to make it.
It hadn’t been a lie, but hadn’t been the whole truth either. Secretly, Jamie had been relieved for the excuse to stay away. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see his mum – he always wanted to see his mum – but he hadn’t known to deal with the crushing weight of all the things he couldn’t tell her; of all the things he didn’t want her to know. It had sat heavy and silent between them, a barrier that only seemed to grow higher and higher as he was sent back to City, as he fled City for Lust Conquers All, as he begged his way back to Richmond.
Now things were better, with him and with the team (and from his dad there’d been nothing, not for months now, and maybe this time—but no. Jamie didn’t want to think about Dad now), and it was time, really, to man up and make it up to Manchester. To come clean to  Mummy and have things go back to normal.
Jamie had no fucking idea how to do that. The idea of disappointing her left a sour taste in his mouth and his stomach churning.
Still frowning, Jamie unlocked his car and slipped into the driver’s seat. The Tube would have been quicker, but he hadn’t been in the mood to be recognized tonight. It was all right if people wanted to talk football, but at least one out of three still wanted to yell at him about Amy. Which was really unfair, because nothing on that show had been real, had it, and Amy knew that.
Amy had known that, right?
Didn’t matter now. Stupid shit, over and done with. Jamie Tartt had other things to worry about.
He pulled out of the car park, turned right, and began his journey home.
---
This is a Christmas story, and maybe it begins here too—
­—in a house in Chelsea, on that same December eve, and with Roy Kent keeping an eye on the oven and the time, while over by the table Keeley and his niece were adding increasingly intricate details to the gingerbread dragon-unicorn-princess-whatevers they were making.
Outside, an Aston Martin passed by on its way from Waterloo to Richmond. Roy would have recognized the car, had he seen it, and Keeley too (rather intimately), but the kitchen window was facing the other way and neither of them did.
“Look, Uncle Roy, this one looks just like you,” Phoebe exclaimed, proudly exhibiting a cookie man with curious antlers and a dour expression that did indeed make him look rather like the retired player.
Keeley laughed. “Ha! Yeah, it does!”
Roy growled. It was his fond growl. It was all right this, Keeley and Phoebe and the gingerbread covering every surface in the kitchen; all right in a way not a lot of things had been since he ended his career by sending Jamie Tartt flying to the ground half a year ago.
As for Jamie Tartt… He drove past the house without looking at it twice. He’d never been inside Roy Kent’s home; never known exactly where he lived.   
That would change, before morning broke on Christmas Day. Because this is a Christmas story, and those always come with miracles.
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byemambo · 5 months ago
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Concert Diaries: THE BOYZ - ZENERATION II
Artist: THE BOYZ
Tour: ZENERATION II World Tour
Date: July 21, 2024
Location: Fox Theatre, Atlanta, GA
Tier: SRA/Gen Admission
Time(s) Seen: Second time
Favorite Songs (Title Track): TATTOO, Levitating, Fantasize, DDD, Survive the Night, Back 2 U, REVEAL, The Stealer, Nectar
Notable Moments (in depth reflection under the cut):
Never been to the Fox Theatre before, it's beautiful in there and I finally experienced a concert with real seating aka cushions 😂
They also provided theatre concessions like popcorn, so I know some people were going to town
Every group I've seen in Atlanta has always said the same thing: "Atlanta is so HOT 🔥"
Jacob singing a snippet of Peaches - Justin Bieber
Kevin mixing up the dates of the previous concert in New York thinking it was "yesterday" instead of two days ago (dates of tour locations stagger every other day, so they were in Atlanta the day before the concert)
Eric and Q first time performing in Atlanta: Eric was on hiatus last tour in 2022, Q got sick while on tour and couldn't attend the Atlanta stop
Haknyeon talking about Atlanta's sports culture: also asked if there were any sports fans in the audience def not me
Brought back pink hair predebut Eric, felt like I got teleported back to 2017 (which is crazy how I've been here since the beginning)
If I remember correctly: Atlanta is home to Sangyeon stans so they delivered whenever that man appeared on screen and talked, same energy last tour as well
The way I started losing my mind when they performed TATTOO (it's their first Japanese EP and I had no hope that I'd be able to see it in person one day since groups usually don't perform their Japanese discography outside of their fan concerts or in Japan)
The members taking time to acknowledge the second floor of the venue, and taking so many moments to scan and take in their image of the experience we're all sharing in that moment
The pure excitement and joy of being in stage and showing us how free they are when they're in the spotlight is addictive and yearned for: to keep their focus on their own path without engaging with any moment of disregard, undermining, or challenging their influence and presence in the industry
Sharing silly moments, such as them fooling around with the height of the mic stands during more fun and carefree songs
Witnessing the comfortability and confidence they now have from being in the industry all these years, while taking time to reflect on their journey as they were once young boys with a big dream ahead of them
The VCR was gorgeous: usually in between outfit changes, the videos shown usually compose of more behind-the-scenes footage (recording sessions, dance practices, self reflections, etc), but THE BOYZ really kept the concert consistent with their "Zeneration" concept (the theatre style venue made it feel like I was watching a movie)
My interpretation (since the Seoul concert VCR has more commentary and behind-the-scenes), there were lots of juxtaposition from a more industrial/sterile environment (all white set, cat walk, very interesting motion transitions (even though I used Adobe After Effects for animated illustration, VFX work on there is otherworldly), defying the natural laws through astrology and galaxy elements (traveling through space and seeing the warping of the universe was so dynamic and peaked my interest because I personally enjoy those themes), and teleporting us into a world filled with nature elements (open grass field, lakeside, flowers, trees, open sky).
THE BOYZ have been working for officially 7 years in December (which is the typical length of time a contract lasts), and I had the privilege of witnessing their growth and journey in finding their footing in the industry. Being a part of a "small company," the level of exposure and opportunities is drastically different in comparison to groups entering the industry from "big companies," whether from music show appearances, award ceremonies, variety show appearances, access to ambitious production professionals (music production, music video directors, content producers, etc). The threshold in attaining any level of commercial "success" is a financial and opportunistic division, which the industry currently operates on. Therefore, groups like THE BOYZ have to overexert themselves beyond what can be a walk in the park for other groups (which doesn't diminish the coexistence of all groups working hard while still acknowledging the innate advantages and disadvantages that vary from the level of influence a company has due to the saturated market), and from being so involved in their journey as a fan, THE BOYZ's ambition and passion in delivering the best performances while exploring and solidifying their artistic voice and color is one of their best traits that resonate to me as a multi stan.
With 7 years of experience, not only is their discography extensive and diverse, active solo/unit promotion (while bringing more attention to the group themselves) continues to keep THE BOYZ head above water for all these years. Appearing in shows like Road to Kingdom while also earning their ticket to join Kingdom: Legendary War, they only continue to make me proud to see them shining on stage and being recognized for their hard work and ambitions. Moments that resonated with me during those times were witnessing and sharing their vulnerable moments with us as the audience (which reminds me of Kevin mentioning after finishing their ballad songs that he kept forgetting the lyrics, but being met with empathy and a smile because we're all human and experiencing the same life full of pressure, anxiety, forgetfulness, etc): Sunwoo being so brave despite having a fear of being head below water and heights taking on many killing parts that challenged him and amplified the drama/storytelling of the performance, the members pushing the limitations of their bodies to showcase their creativity and drive to deliver to the audience something attention grabbing, Juyeon crying after finishing their Quasi una fantasia because he couldn't find his specific branch during the climax of the performance and felt that it could potentially risk their ranking (seeing the fancam of him scrambling on the side of the stage brought me heartache knowing how much pressure he puts on himself because of how deeply he cares about his performance), investing time to showcase a storyline throughout the show that built upon one another (from Eastern warriors, crowned kings, phantom thieves, blossoming sakura petals, and so much more). There is so much love and dedication to what they want to bring to the industry, while also understanding their strengths and capitalizing off of them: intentionality is the word that comes to mind.
From starting out with their school boy youth concepts from Boy as their debut song, silly resort employees in Thrill Ride, werewolf callbacks in REVEAL, defining what it being their individual versions of BE YOUR OWN KING means in their own right, thieves in The Stealer, competing against one another and resorting to violent methods to escape their doom in MAVERICK, exploring nostalgia as school boys again in Nectar, there are so many concepts and sides of THE BOYZ that has only solidified their position in my life as one of my favorite artists. The willingness to experiment and explore, the willingness to deliver new flavors of THE BOYZ while also calling back to past concepts as newer versions of who they once were at that point in their lives. Having so much awareness of the creative direction they're walking on is inspiring, it's admirable, it's cherished. Please give them their flowers, moments of acknowledging their efforts and impact they have on the world around them, and taking the time to return the love we receive from them tenfold. For some, it may seem like the end to a beginning, but with any end, there's always a beginning. I only hope and pray that they will continue down this flowering path and inspire everyone around them, while also taking moments for themselves to join in on the human experience and remove the fame and "idol" mask. That they are just like us, that they have their own worries and insecurities, their own qualms and moments of weakness, their own dreams and goals, their own paths to pave, their own acknowledgement of their emotions and down to earth contemplations. That we all aren't so different after all: that we all share the mutual exchange of love and energy for one another. We're all playing the same game of life: it's up to us to continue grounding ourselves and to return home to our safe spaces.
While driving home four hours away (ended up being three from me being ballsy and driving during midnight) from Atlanta shortly after the concert was over and everyone else attended hi-touch, I finally took the time to record a long awaited voice memo for myself: spent the entire drive reflecting and acknowledging areas of my life that deserve praise and have been on the back burner for a long time. Just from enjoying my time at the concert, the energy gave me so much strength, so much love and care, so much inspiration and desire to work harder, so much appreciation for living my life with intentionality, second by second, moment to moment. Moments like these mean the world to me, giving me evidence and more reasons to continue waking up every day whether to clear skies or thunder clouds. That there is more to this life than what meets the eyes. To some, it's never "this deep" or belittling people choosing to live in their authentic selves and love what they love even if it seems weird, lame, stupid, which to that I say: "don't yuck another man's yum" and "I hope that one day you will have the courage to reflect and meet yourself at such levels of depth where there's no reason to fear the judgment of others, society, the world. Where living in your authentic self will not only alter your relationship with your own pursuit of happiness, but wanting to share that same warm fuzzy feeling with the rest of the world. Nothing makes me more joyous than seeing someone else tap into themselves and light up like a chandelier, like a sparkler, like a candle, like a campfire, like a firework. Why wouldn't you want to witness such moments of pure passion and love?"
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Next Concert: ATEEZ - TOWARDS THE LIGHT : WILL TO POWER
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webionaire · 1 year ago
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While we had shot 16mm on Moonrise Kingdom, we were back to 35mm this time, mostly black-and-white stock, with some color at certain points. We found a place in Paris to process the stuff, but getting the stock was much more of an issue. Only so much gets made in Rochester, New York, so there is a huge lead time when ordering. It’s made to order pretty much just for us, though Kodak and I both hope it inspires others to shoot monochrome. Equipment-wise, These are the same ArriCam ST and LT cameras I used twenty-five years ago; for lenses, beginning with Hotel, we began using the Cooke S4s.
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As far as I’m concerned, digital projection is the death of cinema as I know it,” he once said. “At least it does nothing for me. I actually think I’m getting gypped [sic] when I go to a movie, and I realise that it’s either been shot on digital or is being projected in digital. It’s the death keel, the death rattle.”
For Tarantino, though, the real reason for his insistence on using film in his movies is that it preserves the “magic of movies” and comes down to how movies, in general, do not capture movement as we think they do but rather capture a series of still images which give the illusion of movement.
“The magic of movies is connected to 35mm because everyone thinks that when you’re filming something, you’re recording movement,” he noted. “You’re not recording movement; you are just taking a series of still pictures. There’s no movement in movies at all. They are still pictures, but when shown at 24 frames a second, it creates the illusion of movement.”
The director is keen that by stressing the importance of shooting on film, the true magic is kept alive. “By shooting it in 65mm, I’m guaranteeing, to some degree or another, there will be 70mm film prints out there in the world screening for people who care,” he said. “I’m hoping that the next generation will demand the real thing.”
Tarantino is at least willing to concede a few benefits to shooting digitally. “The fact that a young filmmaker can just buy a cellphone and can put together an interesting story and make a movie and that film can be legit. It’s a more democratic artistic society.” But for established filmmakers shooting digitally, well, Tarantino has “no fucking idea”. That’s that, then. Film, according to the iconic director, is the only way to go.
...Burbank, Calif.-based Fotokem is the last film lab in Hollywood. Kodak shut its L.A. office this past year, but Evenski said that while its local reps work from their homes, film can be shipped to customers or obtained at a local pickup station at Protek.
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2015
Christopher Nolan, Judd Apatow, Edgar Wright, J.J. Abrams and Bennett Miller were photographed by Austin Hargrave on Dec. 12 at the Vista Theatre in Los Angeles.
Kodak has finalized deals with the major Hollywood studios that will allow film to remain alive, at least for the near future. This marks the completion of the deal that Kodak said was near-final last summer, when negotiations began.
Disney, Fox, Paramount, Sony, NBC Universal and Warner Bros. have all reached agreements with Kodak to purchase undisclosed amounts of film over “a few” years that would be enough to extend Kodak’s film manufacturing business. The value of the deals were not disclosed.
Andrew Evenski, Kodak’s president of entertainment and commercial films, told The Hollywood Reporter that Kodak is now “actively working with the independents. We are currently looking at it film by film, but hoping for some agreements [along the lines of the majors].” He added that Kodak is also aggressively targeting pilot season work.
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