#end greyhound racing

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Finish Line || LS2

Summary: A farewell fic to Logan because I'm a sookie and miss him already. Pairing: Logan Sargeant x fem!reader (living in America) WC: 4k

Summer Break 2021

Your mother always said, “Nothing good is easy and nothing easy is good.” To an eighteen year old fresh out of high school you thought she was referring to studying and exam results, not the more impactful experiences you would face once the red brick walls were left in the rear view mirror. 

It would only take a matter of weeks to learn the real meaning.

Loving Logan wasn’t easy but it was impossible to stop the feeling of falling that came soon after meeting him. From the moment you met there was an indescribable connection but the paths of your future were heading in completely different directions and you knew at the end of summer you would say your goodbyes.

In the meantime you would enjoy what the weather had to offer and what better way to emancipate yourself from the innocence of youth and broadcast to the world that you were an adult than a girls road trip to Miami? You may not have been old enough to drink but that didn’t stop the college guys on summer vacation from keeping you and your friends well supplied. 

Looking back, it only proved how young and naive you were. 

“Dalt, I really shouldn’t be here,” Logan complained as a red cup was thrust into his hand. “I could get in so much trouble for this.”

“Relax, bro, you’ll be fine.” His older brother clapped him on the back happily. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The beach house was right on the waterfront and Logan stepped out onto the white sand to dip his toes in the warm water. He didn’t know who’s family the place belonged to but Dalton seemed to know everyone by name. It only made him feel even more left out and he thought maybe he should have just stayed in England for the summer break. 

The house was stifling with the humid temperatures compounding to a sauna with all the bodies inside. The beer had started off cool but it had warmed in your hands and began to taste disgusting so you abandoned it into the hands of a stranger passing by who swiftly chugged it back before shouting the Greek alphabet you assumed was the name of his frat house. You had certainly bitten off more than you could chew and debated catching a Greyhound bus home where you felt safe but you wouldn’t ditch your friends who were absolutely in their element.

The beach wasn’t like any you had seen before arriving in Miami. The sand bars were tiny pockets of islands and each property seemed to be its own space divided by narrow canals that lead to dry docks for their expensive boats. 

“Mind if I join you?” you asked the stranger who sat in the sand at the water's edge. It was impossible to ignore each other’s presence when the rising tide had left such little space.

“It’s a free country,” he said with a small smile, his palm quickly swiping away the picture he had drawn in the sand. 

“I don’t know about that. Sometimes it feels like a prison. Sorry, that was really morbid.”

He laughed and tipped his head back to the sun that still beat down despite being late in the afternoon. “You’re not wrong though. I love coming home, but sometimes I’m glad I don’t live here anymore. I don’t know how to fit in with that,” he said looking back at drunken revelers who had stripped down to their swimwear despite having no inclination to actually enter the water. 

He looked like the rest of the guys there: tanned skin over a toned body and dirty blonde hair hidden by a cap he wore backwards. The southern drawl also confirmed the fact he called this place home. 

“Where do you fit in then?”

His shoulders shrugged as he picked at a desiccated chain of Neptune’s necklace that had washed up on the beach. He busied himself with plucking each individual bead off the seaweed and flicking it back to the water. “I don’t know.”

“Okay, well, what did you want to be when you were a kid?”

“A Formula One racing driver, or a fisherman.”

You buried your toes in the sand, wiggling them to dig deeper where it was cooler. “I thought the all-american dream was to be an astronaut?”

You met his blue eyes and saw the amusement that sparkled in them. “I’m afraid of heights,” he admitted with a grin before he held out his hand. “I’m Logan.”

“I think we are beyond names here, I already know your hopes and dreams,” you teased, shaking his hand. 

“But I don’t know yours, yet.”

“I can give you my name, but as for hopes and dreams, I have no idea what I want to be. I’m still trying to figure that out.” You realised his hand was still in yours and gave it another small shake. “I’m Y/N.”

As the sun fell below the horizon the party grew larger and soon it spilled into the slice of paradise you had carved out with Logan. Sand was kicked up as two guys tackled each other to the ground and Logan threw a protective arm around you before they could crash into your side.

“Back it up bro,” he said as he rose to his feet and pulled you up too, tucking you in behind his back. “You could have hurt somebody.”

“Aw, Sargeant, is that your girlfriend?”

Logan ignored them and turned to check you were alright. His eyes scanned over your body and slowed on their ascent before he cleared his throat and met your eyes again. “Do you want to get out of here?”

You scanned the crowd and spotted two of your friends dancing and the other sat on some guy's lap, smiles on all their faces. You couldn’t disappear and make them worry but you didn’t want to stay as the party only grew more chaotic. “Yes, please, I’ll just tell my friends I’m leaving.”

You weren’t going to attempt to get amongst the gyrating bodies so instead headed to Dakota. The guy sitting beneath her noticed your arrival first and grinned at Logan as he stepped in beside you, his hand resting on the small of your back. “You’re leaving aren’t you? Well, you lasted longer than I thought you would.”

“You two know each other?” you asked. 

“Only since birth,” Logan answered. “This is my brother, Dalton. Dalton, this is Y/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said before turning your attention to your friend. “I’m going to head off, Kote. Logan said he can drop me off at the apartment after dinner.”

“Are you sure? I can take you back if you want.”

You laughed and leaned into Logan, enjoying the warmth that came as his arm curled around your waist. “I’m good, someone needs to make sure those two get back.”

You both looked at the twins who had found dance partners and knew the rented 4 bedroom apartment was probably going to double in residents by morning. With a resigned sigh that she didn’t really feel as the group mother, Dakota nodded. “I’ve got them, you two have fun.”

The wink she sent you off with made your cheeks heat but you hadn’t actually planned on doing what the action implied. Of course Logan was attractive, and the thought of taking him to your bedroom was one that had you melting, but you were quite happy just enjoying his company too. 

“Are you hungry? I know this great spot but it’s a bit of a drive from here.”

Out in the street where the sounds of the thumping bass couldn’t reach your stomach rumbled and you smiled sheepishly. “Just a little.”

The restaurant he knew was on Key Largo, about an hour south of where the party was in Miami Beach and you were amazed by how many bridges had been built to connect the keys. It would have felt a bit scary driving over the ocean if it wasn’t for Logan recounting stories of growing up in the state. It was a good distraction to listen to the fondness in his tone as he remembered fishing off the now-closed piers that he pointed out. 

“I think this is where you fit in,” you said as he cruised along the highway in his pickup truck, the radio quietly playing an RnB station in the background. It was warm enough that the window was down and the breeze blew his hair back like a runway model.

He glanced across the car and lifted a questionable brow. “In Florida?”

“No! Behind the wheel. You look, I don’t know, comfortable? No, content, that’s the word.” 

On the beach Logan had shared how he was halfway through the season of Formula 3 in Europe and had hopes to join an F1 team in the future. It was also when he mentioned returning to the country he currently lived in, four thousand miles across the Atlantic Ocean. Despite only just meeting him, you felt the four week countdown arriving like a dark storm cloud.

Those four weeks flew by almost as quickly as you fell in love. 

Summer Break 2024

The soy milk screeched and you winced at the sound before saving the new girl, and the coffee, from the machine. Thankfully it wasn’t scorched as the shop was already full with the busy morning foot-traffic and you wanted to keep it flowing for the customer’s sake. 

“Soy latte with a shot of hazelnut?” A hand went up and you passed the takeaway cup over. “Have a nice day.”

You looked at the next order stuck to the bench and immediately searched for the customer, a smile splitting your face when you found him. “Baby, you’re home! Why didn’t you call?”

Logan ducked under the staff counter and met your embrace with strong arms that pulled you to your tiptoes. “I called, but you must have been busy here. God, it’s good to see you, sweetheart.”

You checked your phone in the pocket of your apron and saw the missed call before slipping it over your head. “Marie, can you keep an eye on everything?”

“Yeah, course, hun, take your time,” the part time barista said with a wave. “Welcome home, Logan.”

“Thank you.” 

You dragged Logan eagerly through the swing door that stated ‘staff only’ and past the break room to the disused office at the back. “I’ve missed you so much,” you managed to say between the desperate kisses you shared as he kicked your door closed. 

“Missed you too.”

Your hands reached beneath his shirt and he chuckled breathlessly as he caught them before they could move any further. “Tempting, sweetheart, but not here.”

You pouted as you draped your arms around his neck instead and held him tight. “I have the studio booked in 20 minutes, did you want to come?”

Logan rolled his eyes at the stupid question and didn’t bother to answer as he tucked his hands into the back of your jeans and buried his face in your hair. “You smell like blueberry muffins,” he hummed happily. 

“I can steal one,” you offered but when you pulled away he quickly pulled you back with a shake of his head.

“Diet.”

You grabbed the flesh on his abdomen, feeling the hard muscle beneath. “You’re perfect, baby, one muffin isn’t going to change that - but it will make you happier. Go grab a seat in the staff room.”

You walked him back down the hall and let him settle into the couch while you grabbed a muffin from the front counter. Most of the rush had quickly cleared and with the lull in orders you made him his favourite drink. 

“You spoil me, sweetheart,” he said with a gratefully smile as you placed the plate and cup on the coffee table. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you.” You sank into the couch beside him and watched him pick apart the muffin, finding all the blueberries to eat first. He could feel your eyes on his hands as they fiddled with crumbs but before he worked up the courage to explain why he caught a flight two days earlier than planned. “What’s going on, baby?”

He exhaled a heavy sigh and wiped his hands clean before taking yours. “I think it’s over.”

Your heart cleaved apart and your ears started ringing as your world came crashing down. There was only one semester left in your art programme before all the plans the two of you made would come to life - plans that started with moving to England with Logan. Plans that were crumbling down.

“It’s over?” you repeated as silent tears streaked your face and your hands slipped from his.

Horror bled into Logan’s features and he snatched your hands back, placing them over his chest where his heart beat rapidly with panic. “Not us, never us,” he rushed with a harsh shake of his head. “Fuck, sweetheart, you are my everything.”

You sagged with relief as he wiped your eyes but the relief was short lived as you understood what he meant and the phantom pain in your chest returned. “Have you spoken to James?”

He nodded and leaned into your touch as your palms ran up his chest to cradle his face. “It’s not good.”

To hear the defeat in his voice was something you never wished to hear again. It was a sound that no 23 year old should make, he was too young to feel the immense pressure he was under and a weaker man would have been broken by it. But Logan was strong, mentally and physically - he would recover from this, you would make sure of it.

“Come on,” you whispered as you rose to your feet and tugged his hands. 

“Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you home.”

“But you have class.”

You grabbed your handbag from your locker and tossed him the car keys. “This is more important, and I can paint anywhere.”

—

The drive to Miami took most of the day and the frown on Logan’s forehead seemed to soften as the arid air turned humid and the paddocks turned to swamp before he sped through Alligator Alley. The top 40 charts played quietly on the radio and Logan hummed along with the ones he liked while he held your hand on your thigh. 

A contented sigh of relief exhaled from deep in Logan’s chest as the sunset and the city lights illuminated the horizon. Though he was tired to his bones, just the sight of his home was enough to rejuvenate him and he sat up a little straighter before taking the exit that would lead him to Fort Lauderdale. 

Madelyn and Daniel were already expecting Logan and the front door opened before he could turn the engine off. It had been a while since they last had Logan home and you felt a little guilty since most of his returns to home soil were to visit you instead, but they didn’t hold it against you. Madelyn was just happy that there was someone who loved and supported Logan as much as she did.  

It was immediately clear that she wasn’t aware of his current struggles as you saw him hide behind a confident smile as she asked how everything was going. 

“I don’t want to disappoint them,” he admitted as he closed his bedroom door after dinner. 

You placed your bag on the floor and took a seat at the headboard before patting the spot beside you. Logan flopped down on the bed and rested his head on your thighs while his long legs hung over the edge, looking up as if you had all the answers. 

“You could never disappoint them, Lo, they just want you to be happy. And, you're worrying about things that haven’t even come to pass. We don’t know what the second half of the season will bring.”

“I know you are being reasonable, but I can’t help thinking this is the end. Everyone else thinks so too.”

“You mean everyone on X, formally known as twitter,” you said with a roll of your eyes that made him chuckle. “How about no social media for the whole break? Just disconnect from it all for four weeks.”

“And what happens at the end of the break?” he asked quietly, sensing deja vu from the last time he asked this three years ago. It was an eerily similar state too with his head on your legs but you were on the white sands instead of a bed. You had already fallen in love but he was due to fly back to Europe and you would be getting in the car with your friends and heading home. He had forever changed you that summer.

You combed your fingers through his hair as you relived the same memory. “We will be grateful for the time we had together.”

A smile tugged at his lips and he sat up so he could pull you onto his lap. “I’m not letting you go again.”

“I should hope not,” you stated as your knees settled either side of his thighs and you reached into his pocket to fish his phone out. “Now say goodbye to this, I am having you all to myself.”

He plucked the phone from your fingers and tossed it to the side table before putting all those glorious muscles to good use. The room spun until he caged your body beneath his and he gently kissed his way across your collarbone. “You already have me, sweetheart.”

–

A sick twisting feeling gripped your gut as you waved goodbye to Logan through misted eyes. No matter what you had said, you could feel his stress growing as the break came to an end and now he was going back alone. You wished you could go with him.

The drive back to your apartment was too quiet but you couldn’t listen to the radio because the songs he would have hummed to would only make you miss him more. It always took days, weeks even, to reacclimate yourself to the loss of his presence when he left. It never got easier but the memories made were worth it.

The days dragged by as classes began again and the repetitive routine of life was reestablished. Finally it was the weekend and you could curl up on the couch and watch Logan’s practice on F1TV while you were surrounded by paintings of him. There were two new additions that had come back from Miami, one capturing his happiness as he reeled in a bluefish and the other capturing his perfect features as he sunbathed shirtless, that one was purely indulgent.

“Oh no, Sargeant has taken a big shunt into the barriers there.”

Your feet slammed to the floor as you jumped out of your seat and stumbled closer to the tv as if you could reach through it and help, but you were helpless to watch as Logan remained in the car in the middle of the track - red flags waving. 

“Come on, baby, get out of there,” you begged as you heard his radio saying he was okay, but then the back of the car ignited into flame. You were screaming for him to get out as George’s car rolled by, his hands gesturing wildly for Logan to get out too before he finally was free of the seat harness and jumping out over the halo. 

You finally breathed a sigh of relief but it didn’t last as the camera cut to Logan leaning on the barriers, his head hung in defeat despite the helmet hiding his face. You knew your boyfriend better than anyone, you knew exactly what was going on inside his head and you knew you had to do something.

The credit card Logan had given you years ago had been left discarded in the back of your underwear drawer. He said it was for you to use but you had never been with him for the money and even as a broke uni student you hadn’t used it once. But this was an emergency, and if you were ever going to use it then you could be damn sure it was going to be spent on him.

One quick email was sent to your professor begging for an extension due to a family emergency before you packed a bag and booked the first flight out to Amsterdam.

With shaking hands you typed a message: I’m so glad you got out of there, baby. I’m on my way and I love you so much xxx

You knew he wouldn’t be able to reply for a little while since he would have to get back to the team garage, and there would be other responsibilities first like having a medical check and debrief, but you sent it anyway along with the flight numbers so he knew where you would be and when. It was going to be a long day with the 13 hours of flights plus the change in timezone but nothing was going to keep you from getting to Logan before the race tomorrow.

–

A stranger with a whiteboard greeted you at the airport and the exhaustion of the trip faded away when you reached the paddock with a pass in hand and stepped into the Williams garage. Bodies of mechanics moved in sync as they rushed around the car preparing it for the race that was due to start in a few short hours but it was one man that was standing among them that drew you closer. 

“Lo,” you greeted softly behind him on raised tiptoes. 

A wide smile split his face as he turned to embrace you, lifting your feet off the ground as he buried his face in your neck. “Hellow, sweetheart,” he breathed against your skin before inhaling the familiar scent of your perfume. 

Your hands tightened on his waist as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “Are you okay?”

He pulled back and his smile faltered. “I’m better now that you’re here.” 

You reached up to trace the curve of his cheek where his smile had been but his team principal called his name before you could feel the shadow of his beard on your palm. “Can I borrow you for a minute?” he asked Logan before spotting you, a flicker of surprise on his face. “Hello, Y/N, it’s lovely to see you again.”

“You too, James,” you replied politely before stepping out of Logan’s arms and giving him a little nudge in the right direction. “I’ll wait over in hospitality.”

Logan spent what time he could with you, reassured by the feel of your arms wrapped around his neck and your cheek pressed to his as you sat on his lap in the single chair that furnished his driver room. The thin walls did little to dampen the noise of the motorhome and the crowd beyond but for a few minutes Logan could forget it all and the pressure that came with it - until the clock ticked away the precious minutes alone and reality returned.

“I have to score a point today,” he whispered like he was confessing a sin and he tipped his head back to stare at the roof. “No point, no seat. That's the deal.”

“Can they do that with your contract?”

“They can do whatever they want, sweetheart. I’m lucky they let me go this long without contributing.”

You cupped his face and tipped it forward so he was forced to look you in the eyes. “There are more ways to contribute to the team than just scoring points. You spend hours in the simulator every week so they can get their precious data.”

“And then I go and cost them $250k when I crash,” he laughed humorlessly and dropped his forehead to yours. “I think this is it. I’m tired and it’s so hard to enjoy it now. That’s the worst part out of all of it. I used to like my job, it was all I wanted to do.”

Your thumbs caught the tears that clung to his lower lashes. “What do you want now?”

“I honestly have no idea, I just know I want to be wherever you are.”

A knock at the door interrupted the promise you were going to make and someone in a William’s shirt said it was time to head back to the garage before ducking back out of the room.

“I love you” you whispered between the kisses you traced across the bow of his lips. “I want you to go out there today and forget James and points and all that stuff and just enjoy the race. I have watched you give everything to this team but today I want you to be selfish, okay? Enjoy it out there or it’s all for nothing, no matter the outcome. And when you get out of that car I will be waiting for you, arms wide open.”

Logan closed his eyes and exhaled a shuddering breath before he captured your lips in a passionate kiss that left you both breathless. Resolute and proud, he stood up and placed you on his feet before grabbing his cap and slapping it on his head. “I’ll see you at the finish line.”

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Don't You Worry Your Pretty Little Mind

I'll Write Your Name Chapter 8

Roy Kent x Latina!Popstar!Reader

6.8k words

Warnings: Language, mentions of drinking, slut-shaming and mentions of an age gap, me not knowing how making an album works and not letting it ruin my fun, judgey internet trolls being judgey, lots and lots of pining

“Can I come see you in the studio?”

I looked up from the Scrabble board to find Roy staring at me, that hard stare of his that often accompanied a long silence. Sydney was curled up in his lap, enjoying a nice ear massage while we played a quiet game. Somewhere in the background, a movie neither of us was paying any attention to was playing, filling the room with something more than our lack of conversation.

Something had felt different when we returned from the lake. Somewhere between our heated make out session and his weird indifference to being the subject of my song, something had shifted. It was probably just me, I conceded. It was me overthinking and worrying that Roy was going to figure out how I felt. If anything, I was probably starting to weird him out with my awkwardness.

“In the studio?” I repeated, cocking my head at him. “Is Keeley bugging you for pictures of something other than a Scrabble board?”

Roy smirked. “No,” he scoffed. “I was just thinking, you’ve seen me at work. A lot, actually. How about you let me see you at work, sunshine?”

My gaze fell back to the board, to the word wrinkle that Roy had just put down. The album was coming along well, I admitted to myself. In fact, the majority of the songs were brand new as opposed to reworked lyrics from my old albums. Not that Roy Kent needed to know, but he was apparently quite the muse. In the back of my mind, I knew he’d hear all of the songs eventually, but the little nervous part of me wasn’t quite ready for it- especially for him to hear them live in the studio.

And yet, those brown eyes had me murmuring, “Sure, Kent.”

He grinned- one of those real, joyful grins- and turned his attention back to the Scrabble board. “Maybe tomorrow?”

My mind raced, trying to remember what song we’d be recording; I couldn’t remember for the life of me. “Uh, yeah.” I fiddled with the ends of my hair, trying to offer Roy a casual smile. “Sounds fun.”

~

Roy leaned into the leather couch along the back wall. Did she always look this nervous when she was about to record- or was it because of him? No, he scolded himself, rolling his eyes at his wandering thoughts, the same ones that kept wandering to that afternoon at the lake, when she’d sat on his lap for the benefit of some paparazzi and kissed him hard enough to almost make him believe it.

Fuck off, he told himself as he crossed his arms. She was being forced to create an album that was supposedly about a man she wasn’t actually in love with; of course she looked uncomfortable. He’d be foolish to think it was anything else.

“You ready?” Her producer- a loud, lanky guy named Alex- spoke into the microphone that echoed into the recording booth.

She nodded, brushing her hair out of her face. Roy liked seeing her look so casual in a sweatshirt and minimal makeup; she was always stunning, whether dolled up, or in her Greyhounds gear, or in pyjamas. But this look- so comfortable and domestic- was his favorite by far. As if she could feel his soft gaze, her eyes flickered to him. He offered her a tiny smile, trying to tell her how excited he was to see her at work. She offered a shy grin in return and straightened up before returning her focus to her producer.

“Let’s do it,” came her confident voice.

The producer shot her a thumbs up and hit a few buttons, filling the studio with a dreamy tune that immediately warmed every inch of Roy's body. She swayed a little, eyes closed, feeling the music, before she opened her mouth and her eyes- eyes that went straight to Roy.

I feel so high school every time I look at you

I wanna find you in a crowd just to hide from you

Roy couldn’t help but crack a small grin. She’d mentioned at some point how people often said she sounded like a girl that never left high school behind- and now here she was, proudly proclaiming that yeah, she felt like that girl, at least sometimes. He was learning that not only was she fully aware of the things people said about her, not only did she not let it affect her, but she could lean into and make fun of herself. There was something charming and, frankly, kind of sexy about it.

And in a blink of a crinkling eye

I'm sinking, our fingers entwined

Cheeks pink in the twinkling lights

Tell me 'bout the first time you saw me

I'll drink what you think, and I'm high

From smoking your jokes all damn night

The brink of a wrinkle in time

Bittersweet sixteen suddenly

The warmth in Roy’s chest became more of a burning when he heard the words wrinkle in time. The book he’d read on their holiday, one of his favorite books, the one he’d admitted to having read countless times. She’d mentioned it in her song. Roy quickly shook off the excitement that tingled in his fingertips as he listened to her sing about American Pie and feeling like high school; she was adding in details about him, he reasoned. She had to make it seem like these songs were about him, after all. Of course she’d sprinkle in real details so people wouldn’t be able to guess that the songs were about other men, real romances she’d had.

It was all part of the act.

Still, he couldn’t help but grin when she sang about him- or whoever the true subject of the song was- knowing how to ball while she knows Aristotle. It was cute, silly, the words of an infatuated young woman. Lucky man, some tiny voice in the back of Roy’s head thought as he tried not to feel a smidge of jealousy towards whoever had apparently pulled her into the backseat of a car.

“She’s great, ain’t she?”

Roy tore his eyes away from the singer to find her producer grinning at him. He nodded to the empty seat by the controls. Glancing back at the singer, Roy stood and took the new spot, closer to the glass that separated her from them.

Alex continued, “You must be something, Roy Kent. She’s a workaholic, that’s a known fact, but wow. She’s been nonstop these days. I’m getting phone calls and texts and voice memos at two in the morning with nearly completed songs.” He raised his eyebrows at Roy. “M’girlfriend’s starting to get worried,” he joked. Glancing back at the still-singing star, he went on, “But seriously. I’ve worked with her for years, and I’ve never seen her so inspired.” He nudged Roy. “Must be love,” he hummed.

The song finished, her voice soft and wistful and her eyes on Roy. She smiled at him, something that looked like a real smile on her face, with flushed cheeks and bright eyes. Roy couldn’t help but smile back, ignoring every tight feeling in his chest, those tight feelings that kept growing and growing no matter how much he fought them.

“Yeah,” he managed to huff. “Must be.”

~

 Normally, I wouldn’t be caught dead scrolling through the hate and gossip that usually accompanied my name online. But for whatever reason, after a rehearsal for my tour, I couldn’t help the way my eyes stayed glued to my phone, to all the jokes and headlines declaring that Roy Kent was too old for me, that he was a senior citizen and I was a child.

“Must be a slow news cycle,” April chirped as she watched me stretch in front of the dance studio mirrors.

I sat my phone down so I could make myself focus on my cooldown. “It’s stupid,” I grumbled, sitting with my feet out in front of me. “It’s not like I’m sixteen and he’s thirty. I’m a full-grown woman. He’s got what, a decade on me?” I scowled at my reflection. “I write about my exes, they tell me to grow up. I date a nice, stable guy with a good job, and they tell me I’m a baby.” My deep sigh filled the empty dance studio. “It’s like I can’t do anything right.”

April’s face softened as she sat on the floor beside me. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” she reminded me. “They always have something to say about you, babe.”  After a pause, her eyes sparkled. “So, you think Kent’s a nice guy, huh?”

I pretended my heart didn’t skip a beat as I rolled my eyes. “He’s a good friend,” I huffed. “And I hate to think that his own reputation is getting sullied by associating with me. Especially since-” The words caught in my throat before tumbling out. “-since none of this is real.”

“What about your reputation?” April asked quietly, watching me with those gentle eyes that I always hated being on the receiving end of, gentle eyes that were far too familiar.

“My reputation…” I sighed. “Let’s be real, it’s always going to have problems.” I laughed hollowly and picked my phone back up, resuming my scrolling. “But if I’m being really honest, April, if I was in a relationship- an actual relationship- as healthy as the one I’m pretending to be in, well all the shit they say might be worth-”

I froze as words began to bloom and swirl in my head. Ignoring April’s questioning look, I scrambled to my feet to hurry and grab a notebook before those words began to disappear. Lucky, I was able to start scribbling down my thoughts, thoughts that multiplied rather than vanish. My pen continued to fly as April chuckled and loaded me into her car, as she drove me home, as I sat in front of my piano all night. The pen was still moving the next morning as Roy followed April and me into the recording studio, where Alex greeted me with that familiar giant smile.

“You are not still fiddling with the lyrics. It's already perfect,” he scoffed. He shook Roy’s hand as though the two of them were old pals now. “Your girl kept me up all night with this new song,” he huffed. He gave me a pointed look. “Steph looked about ready to kill me when I got out of bed to head down to the home studio.”

“Steph’ll be fine when I thank her in the liner notes,” I hummed, waving him off, thinking of all the other late nights my insomniac tendencies had caused his poor girlfriend. “Now, do you have my music or not?”

The playful annoyance on my producer’s face was replaced with glee almost immediately. “Here, give it a listen.” He placed some headphones on my head and hit a button.

I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, letting my head fill with the twinkling music, something that felt like young love and hope and romance. It was exactly what I’d imagined in my mind- but better. For the millionth time since we’d started collaborating three albums ago, Alex had done pure magic with just a few manic voice memos sent obnoxiously late at night.

“Perfect,” I sighed after only about thirty seconds. I handed him the headphones back and nodded. “Let’s try it.”

As Alex prepared to play the music, I grabbed Roy’s hand and gave him my coyest smile, replaying Keeley’s reminders to really sell this thing in my mind; my chronically online producer was the perfect audience for a little PDA. “Come on, Roycito. I want you to hear this one.”

Roy shot me a curious look and followed me into the recording booth, watching me sit down before joining me. I kept his hand in mine, intertwining our fingers as I nodded to Alex to play the song. When the glittering music echoed inside the booth, Roy turned to me, the corners of his mouth turning up and his eyebrows raised.

Keeping my eyes on his, I opened my mouth and began to sing-

Flamingo pink Sunrise Boulevard

Clink, clink Being this young is art

Aquamarine Moonlit swimming pool

What if all I need is you?

As the song continued, I offered Roy my best smile, the one I realized I wore so naturally when he was around. He returned it easily, with sparkling brown eyes and pink cheeks. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Alex recording us with his phone, mischievous grin on his face. If this was real- if we were real- this would make an adorable video, one I’d cherish and play over and over. Me, singing a song I’d written about Roy, for Roy, pure infatuation all over both of our faces.

At least it would look good on our socials.

But if I'm all dressed up

They might as well be looking at us

And if they call me a slut

You know it might be worth it for once

And if I'm gonna be drunk

Might as well be drunk in love

Roy’s eyebrows flew up when I got to the title of the song. I wasn’t surprised; sure, I wasn’t the sweet little nineteen-year-old I once was- I openly swore and wrote songs about sex now- but I’d never called myself something so crude before. But as I sang it, I found I liked the way the word contrasted against the romantic dreaminess of the song; it kind of reminded me of Roy, a juxtaposition of gruff hardness and tender sweetness.

Send the code, he's waiting there

The sticks and stones they throw froze mid-air

Everyone wants him

That was my crime

The wrong place at the right time

And I break down, then he's pullin' me in

In a world of boys, he's a gentleman

On the word gentleman, I reached out and tapped the tip of Roy’s nose with my index finger. His skin was warm, and I swore the pink in his cheeks deepened. Some small, timid part of me was scared that he was uncomfortable with the attention, with being implied as the muse for this song after his reaction to “Sweet Nothing”. But something in his bright eyes and soft smile told me that maybe, just maybe, he was enjoying himself.

Figuring that he was also playing things up for my producer’s benefit, I let myself lean into the performance, offering Roy flirtatious smiles and bumping his shoulder coyly as I sang to him.

Half asleep

Taking your time

In the tangerine, neon light

This is luxury

You're not saying you're in love with me

But you're going to

Half awake

Taking your chance

It's a big mistake

I said it might blow up in your pretty face

I'm not saying do it anyway

But you're going to

And if they call me a slut

You know it might be worth it for once

And if I'm gonna be drunk

Might as well be drunk in love

Roy shook his head as the music faded. “Fucking amazing,” he murmured, too softly for the microphones to pick up. He leaned forward and kissed my cheek, leaving an undeniable warm spot where his lips touched my skin. “That’s a fucking hit.”

I ducked my head, suddenly overwhelmed by the look in his eyes. Remembering where I was, I looked back into the control room, where Alex had a wide grin and April wore a curious expression. Ignoring my assistant’s raised eyebrows, I nodded to my producer. “Well?”

“It’s perfect,” he chuckled into the intercom. “Seriously, I love it.” He cocked his head at me. “Needs a new title though. Maybe ‘Lovesick’ or ‘Love-Struck’?”

I knew this conversation would be coming. “No,” I said with a small shake of my head. “It’s ‘Slut!’. I don’t want any other title.”

“Kid,” huffed my producer, calling me the nickname he knew made me roll my eyes. “This is a radio hit. Song of the summer. But you’re not going to get any airplay with that title. You're already fighting the fact that you call yourself a slut in the chorus. Don’t shoot yourself in the foot here.”

“No.” I sat up taller, keenly aware of Roy’s arm pressed against mine. “If they can spend the last decade calling me a slut, then I can too. They don’t want to hear me sing it, maybe they shouldn’t have said it.”

Alex groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine,” he grumbled as he stood up. “’m gonna go grab some water and cry about the fact that you’ve just cost us our millionth Billboard top spot.”

I rolled my eyes with a grin; he always gave in when I felt passionate about something. “Don’t worry,” I assured him as he left the studio. “I’ll write you another hit.”

“Fucking badass,” came a sigh next to me. When I turned my head, Roy was staring at me with raised eyebrows and a slacked jaw. The corner of his mouth turned upwards in a lopsided grin. “Sticking up for what you want, flipping the bird at the people who talk shit about you. You’re a badass, sunshine,” he chuckled, planting another kiss on my cheek.

“Thanks,” I murmured, ignoring the fact that he'd kissed my cheek without a real audience to witness it. “So you liked the song?”

He nodded earnestly. “Fuck yeah,” he assured me. “Tell me you’re going to do that one live. It’d be fucking magic.”

I paused, glancing at April though the window; she was watching us with something that looked way too much like a smirk. After narrowing my eyes at her, I turned back to Roy. “Well, I was kind of toying with the idea of previewing the album during the tour. Like surprising some of the shows with a new song.”

Those thick eyebrows flew up. “You’ve gotta do it. People are going to lose their shit when they hear these songs.” He shook his head and leaned forward to plant a tender kiss to my temple. “What a fucking mind, indeed.”

Fuck fuck fuck, I thought as I glanced away. This crush, this stupid little crush, was becoming too much for me to handle. Roy Kent was too supportive, too nice, too kind, not to mention too fucking handsome. Why couldn’t he be the moody jackass I first met in Keeley’s office? Why did he have to be one of the most genuinely good people I’d ever met? This whole thing might blow up in my pretty face if I wasn’t careful.

But when I looked back at Roy’s sparkling brown eyes, I felt like it might really be worth it for once.

~

“Hey Roy-o.” Keeley bounded over, wearing something with far too many sequins, and gave Roy a friendly hug. “Where’s your better half?”

Roy rolled his eyes, giving Keeley a small squeeze before letting go. “She’s over with April,” he answered, not bothering to correct Keeley about calling the popstar his ‘better half’. He nodded across Jamie’s living room, where the singer and assistant were huddled in a corner and giggling. As if she could feel his gaze, those familiar eyes flittered around the party until they met his; he swore her smile widened.

Keeley's bright voice interrupted his thoughts. “Have you gotten to hear any of the new album yet?”

“I have,” he said, unable to hide the hint of bragging in his voice. “It’s fucking brilliant so far, actually.” His eyes returned to the popstar- who was already glancing over at him.

“Think she’d honor us with a preview?” Keeley teased, waggling her eyebrows at Roy. “It’d be nice for Jamie’s piano to get used for once.” She wrinkled her nose playfully. “Don’t know why he bought the damn thing in the first place,” she added.

Roy hesitated for a moment as he looked around the party. Jamie had decided to throw a party to show off the pool he’d built in the backyard after the end of the season; after a day spent in and out of the pool, the house was packed with the Greyhounds and their significant others, wearing cover ups and sweatshirts over swimsuits and newly acquired sunburns and laughing over drinks. The “power couple” had, of course, come together, with Roy opting to wear his usual black and his ‘girlfriend’ in a sweet summer dress that looked like it belonged on a magazine cover. Unsurprisingly, she looked lovely as ever, chatting with everyone with ease and looking as if she belonged. She was like that in every room, Roy realized; always relaxed, charming, making whoever she was with feel like they were the most important person in the room. For the millionth time since they’d met, Roy felt awed that the woman he’d thought would be a complete brat and diva was actually one of the most genuine people he’d ever met. And that knowledge had him growing more and more protective of her by the day.

Because that’s what friends are for- right?

“I mean…” Roy cleared his throat. “I guess if she fucking wants to-”

“Great!” Before Roy could finish his thought, Keeley had grabbed his wrist and began dragging him across the room, a movement Roy was surprisingly irked by. She didn’t let go until they’d reached the popstar, who offered Keeley that sheepish smile she always wore around the model. “Hey!” Keeley chirped.

The singer accepted the hug Keeley wrapped her in. “Hi, Keeley,” she murmured. Her body seemed to soften when she realized Roy was looking at her. “Sorry you had to miss the pool party. Rebecca said you had to go rescue a photoshoot or something?”

Keeley nodded eagerly, seemingly pleased that the popstar was engaging her in real conversation. “Yeah, the model was being a bit difficult, so I had to go talk her down. Bummer to miss out on all the swimming, but what can ya do? It's not easy being the boss.” She nudged the popstar. “Well, you know how it is. You're basically running the music industry these days.”

“Oh, I don't know about that-”

Roy rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around the popstar’s shoulders so he could tug her close. “Oh fuck off with the modesty,” he gently chided. “You’re on top of the fucking world.” He turned to Keeley, holding his head high with pride. “Have you seen her tour numbers? Fucking impossible to get tickets to the show now.” He quirked an eyebrow at the singer. “Good thing I've got an in, otherwise I'd be missing the event of the summer.”

“Think I could manage to score a ticket?” Keeley teased with a wink; funny, Roy didn't feel those usual butterflies.

“Definitely.” The popstar leaned into Roy's touch; fuck, she always made it feel so natural.

Ignoring the fluttering in the deepest pit of his stomach, Roy gave her a squeeze. “Speaking of the show…” Roy cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “Any chance you'd want to preview one of those new songs? Tartt’s got a piano.”

Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second. “I dunno, Roycito,” she hummed, scrunching her nose in thought.

Immediately, Roy shook his head. “You don't have to,” he whispered, loud enough for only her to hear. “You absolutely don't fucking have to.”

She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment- her thinking face, the one Roy had gotten quite used to while watching her work at the lake. He briefly wondered if she was aware of it. “Sure,” she finally said. “I’ve got one I can share.”

In the blink of an eye, the entire party was squeezed around Jamie’s never-been-used piano, eagerly awaiting the opportunity to hear the unreleased song. She looked so at ease as she sat down, all smiles and giggles as the Greyhounds chattered about what songs they liked, teasingly asking if this song was about Roy, speculating if this meant there was a new album coming soon.

Before the singer could even pluck one key, Roy barked out, “Oi, no fucking recording. I see one fucking phone, I’m punching dicks.” When he looked back at the piano, he was greeted with a smile, the kind that was stifling full-on laughter. Roy smirked; he was good at making her laugh, he’d discovered. He gave her a small nod, letting her know that he was cheering her on.

With a deep breath, she looked down at the key and began to play gently, creating a warm tune that Roy hadn’t heard before. Immediately, he liked it and knew that, once again, she’d created a hit.

There's glitter on the floor after the party

Girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby

Candle wax and Polaroids on the hardwood floor

You and me from the night before, but

Don't read the last page

But I stay when you're lost, and I'm scared, and you're turning away

I want your midnights

But I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day

It was sweet, romantic, perfect. Roy didn’t bother hiding his grin as his shoulders relaxed, making him realize how tense he’d been before she started. Keeley seemed to have noticed, because she grinned up at him with raised eyebrows.

Not that Roy noticed, not when he was too busy watching the popstar and soaking in every word she sang.

Hold on to the memories

They will hold on to you

Hold on to the memories

They will hold on to you

Hold on to the memories

They will hold on to you

And I will hold on to you

Roy dared to tear his eyes away from the piano to peek at the reactions of his friends and his team. He watched as Colin wrapped an arm around Michael and leaned in close to his boyfriend; he noticed the way Jamie’s fingertips brushed against the inside of April’s wrist; he caught the tears forming in Rebecca’s eyes and her wistful expression; but none of the little moments made him smile the way the singer’s voice did.

Especially when she finally looked up from the piano to lock eyes with him.

Please don't ever become a stranger

Whose laugh I could recognize anywhere

Please don't ever become a stranger

Whose laugh I could recognize anywhere

As Roy’s chest tightened, Keeley leaned close and whispered, “It’s incredible, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Roy breathed, not looking at the model. “She is.”

Without another word, he left his spot next to Keeley to walk over to the piano and sit beside the singer, whose smile widened. She scooched closer to him, not missing a single key and never breaking eye contact. It was as if the room around them disappeared, as if they were back in their quiet little world by the lake, where nothing existed except the two of them and the music she created.

Don't read the last page

But I stay when it's hard, or it's wrong, or we're making mistakes

I want your midnights

But I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day

The moment her fingers lifted from the keys, Roy instinctively leaned close and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips, feeling her smile pressing against his. And he ignored the feeling that, for the first time, he might not be kissing her for the benefit of an audience.

~

When I pulled back from Roy's kiss, I was still smiling. Smiling at the song, smiling at the enthusiastic cheers from the Greyhounds, smiling at the awed look on Roy's bearded face.

But on the inside, I was screaming, wishing that the kiss he'd given me was as real as the feelings that grew inside me every day, the feelings I had poured into this song.

“That was fucking gorgeous,” Roy whispered in my ear, his warm breath tickling my skin. “Seriously, sunshine, I'm having a hard time picking a favorite song.”

All I could do was smile at Roy, with his sweet words and bright eyes, and murmur, “Thanks, Kent.”

As everyone else returned to mingling and chatting, Roy reached down and touched my hand gently. “Let’s go grab a drink.”

Plastic cup in one hand, Roy’s hand in the other, I followed the footballer through the house, offering my most dazzling smile as people commented on how much they liked the song. Eventually, I found Roy leading me up some stairs. Before I could ask him where we were going, he led me into a side bedroom and to the window. Once he pushed the window open, he nodded to me. 

“How about some fresh air?”

Suppressing my surprised grin, I climbed out the window after Roy, accepting his warm grip as he helped me out onto the roof overlooking Jamie’s backyard. The twinkling patio lights below echoed the emerging stars above, making it seem like Roy and I were floating somewhere in space; the sounds of shouts and laughter from the party reminded me that we were still on Earth.

“How’re you doing?”

Roy’s growling voice returned my thoughts from far-off galaxies. “Hmm?”

He shrugged and scooted closer, as if trying to keep me warm. “I know there’s been some shit about our age difference,” he said slowly, searching my face for a reaction. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

A hollow laugh spilled out of my chest. “Me? I’m fine. They spend years telling me to grow up, be more mature, stop spending all my time running around with boys. But here I am, with a man, a stable man, and suddenly I’m sixteen and need to be protected and need to be protected from big, bad Roy Kent.” I nudged him and took a sip of my beer. “I’m more concerned about you, actually. Everyone’s acting like you’re a dirty old man because of a couple photos of you grabbing my ass.”

“Honestly,” Roy chuckled. “I’m starting to feel like one.” A blush settled on his cheeks. “Sorry about that, by the way. Guess I got a bit carried away.”

I shook my head. “Don’t,” I assured him. “What did everyone think we’ve been doing, cuddling and holding hands? We’re supposed to be adults in an adult relationship. You’re Roy Kent. Anyone with a brain could assume we’re, well, you know.”

He sighed and wrapped a warm arm around my shoulders. “Yeah,” he agreed, “but I don’t like seeing your reputation take all these hits. That’s not the point of all this,” he reminded me.

“Kent,” I said slowly, fighting the urge to lean my head on his shoulder. “If the worst thing they can say about me is that my boyfriend is a smidge older than me, then this is the best my reputation has been in ages. It’s annoying, sure, but it’s not the worst thing they’ve ever said about me.”

“I guess,” Roy mumbled, tugging me closer. “Just… keep me posted on how you’re doing, alright? If we need to cool things down, or call it off, you let me know. I’ll handle Keeley and Lanie. You’re more important than any fucking plan, you know. Much more important.”

With those kind words, I gave in, leaning my head on his shoulder and watching the lights twinkling below us. For a little bit, I let myself forget all about the press, all about the beautiful ex-girlfriend I saw him whispering with while I sang, all about the party downstairs. Hell, I let myself forget all about the fact that this was a fake relationship with an undetermined but very real expiration date.

For a little bit, I let myself pretend that Roy Kent might love me back.

~

Roy grinned as he watched her nose scrunch in concentration while she studied the chess board on his coffee table. After informing Roy that she’d never played chess before, he insisted on teaching the popstar before their early bedtime. She was spending the night at his place, something he realized was kind of rare; normally they were at her place, mostly because of Sydney the cat. But Sydney was staying with April (and probably Jamie too), plus Roy’s house was closer to the airport. 

The two of them would be leaving early in the morning for their flight- on her private jet- to Los Angeles, where they were due to celebrate her niece’s birthday. Roy felt apprehensive- he wasn’t the kind of guy who met families; even with Keeley, he’d only met her on a handful of occasions. But here he was, suitcase packed so he could fly halfway across the world and meet what his fake girlfriend described as “a typical loud Mexican family”. She’d spent the last week warning him about which uncles would try to get him drunk, about the nephews who were already obsessed with him, about how her mother was going to try to feed him the moment they walked through the door, and about how her very protective father and sister were both going to give him the third degree during their visit.

“They’d always thought I’d bring Dani Rojas if I ever brought an athlete home,” she had joked when he asked what they thought of the fake relationship so far. “Not an old British man.”

Even though this was all for show, so that there would be no suspicion from the press if she showed up to a major family event without her supposedly serious boyfriend, Roy still wanted to make a good impression. His own family pretty much consisted of his sister and Phoebe; there was something lovely about a big family, even one as loud and overbearing as she described to him.

“My folks are really looking forward to meeting you,” she hummed now as she finally moved a chess piece, looking comfortable in her criss-cross position, leaning her back against the couch. “You’re going to be the first boyfriend they’ve met in awhile.”

“Seriously?” Roy took his turn, trying not to smirk when he saw the disappointment on her face when she realized her move had set him up for victory. 

She snorted as they reset the board. “I mean, you’ve met Everett. Not exactly the kind of guy that parents like mine would be excited about. Drinks too much, pants too tight, total bad boy. Scared the living daylights out of my poor Catholic mother. Meeting him would've killed her.”

Roy fidgeted with the pawn he held. “But they’re excited for me? The old man who swears every other word?”

“They say I look happy,” she murmured, eyes on the board. “They’ve seen photos of us, they see that I’m not out partying like I used to. They think I’m in a really good place thanks to you.” She offered him a small smile, cocking her head thoughtfully. “Honestly, I think so too, Roycito. This friendship has been really good for me.” She reached out and touched his hand gently. “So, thanks. For being such a good friend.” 

For a moment, Roy just stared at her hand in his, warm and soft and familiar now. His mind wandered to that afternoon by the lake, the way it had ever since they'd gotten home from holiday, and a quiet voice wondered if all of her was this soft and warm.

Fuck off, he scolded himself harshly. Perverted old man, indeed.

“Oi, I've got something for you,” he murmured. Gently, he pulled back his hand, hoping the movement wasn't too gingerly, and stood up. He walked briskly to his room and returned with a small jewelry box. Trying to keep his signature apathetic expression, Roy handed her the box and sat back down, wondering if she could see the way his fingers twitched in anticipation.

With a coolly raised eyebrow she opened the box. When she saw the silver necklace, a smile broke out across that pretty face.

“It's perfect,” she giggled.

Keeley had mentioned to Roy the idea of giving her some kind of trinket to symbolize the relationship, another piece of evidence that this fake romance was real and very serious, especially in the face of the age gap discourse they'd been facing. Immediately, Roy knew exactly what to get her.

It was a simple silver chain with a little square charm, with a large R engraved in the middle and a tiny number 1 in the corner. A Scrabble letter.

And for whatever reason, Roy didn't bother telling her it was Keeley's idea. Not when he saw the brightness in her eyes as she took the necklace out of the box. Her smile widened when she looked back up at him, at what he knew was his most pleased expression.

“Thank you, Roy,” she finally said, her voice thickening. “Wanna help me put it on? I'm sure the girls would want me to post a selfie or something.”

Roy's stomach sank a little at the mention of the publicists, reminding him of how orchestrated everything between the two of them was, but he didn't let his easy expression fade. Instead, he went around to her side of the coffee table and took the necklace from her hands, not minding too much when her fingers brushed against his. He settled on the couch behind her and brushed the hair off the back of her neck, wondering absently if the back of every woman's neck was pretty or just hers. He lifted the necklace in front of her, smirking to himself when he saw the way she immediately patted the charm against her skin. He clasped it securely into place and gently laid the chain on her neck. However, he didn't immediately remove his hands from her. Instead, he found himself staring at the smooth skin he back of her neckon the back of her neck, wondering how it would feel against his lips. He knew what her mouth felt like, of course; but what about the rest of her?

Spurred on by this newfound curiosity, Roy leaned forward and ghosted his mouth over her bare neck. But before he could properly attach his lips to her skin, his mobile vibrated across the room, breaking whatever spell he was under.

Clearing his throat, Roy scrambled to his feet, ignoring the raging heat in his cheeks and refusing to look her in the eye. He rushed over to where he had carelessly tossed his phone earlier and glanced at the name on the screen: Keeley.

“Yeah?” he grumbled when he picked up. He dared a glance at the beautiful singer; she was staring down at the forgotten chessboard with wide eyes, fiddling absently with the silver Scrabble letter around her neck. Had she felt that little kiss? he wondered, his heart frozen in panic. What the absolute fuck was wrong with him?

“Just checking in,” Keeley chirped, ignorant to Roy’s frazzled state. “You two’ll definitely be photographed when you arrive in L.A. So just make sure to post a few pictures, look like the happy couple, you know the drill.”

Roy nodded, then remembered that Keeley couldn’t see him. “Yeah,” he repeated. “I know the drill.” He cleared his throat and averted his eyes, lest he be caught staring. “Anything else?”

“Are you alright, Roy?” Keeley’s voice was filled with concern. “You’re even more monosyllabic than usual.”

“I’m fine,” Roy lied. “Just, dunno, fucking anxious for the long flight or some shit.” He glanced back across the room; those pretty eyes found his. “I’ll talk to you later, alright?”

Keeley sighed, clearly unconvinced. “Alright. Have a safe flight, Roy-o. Say hi to-”

Roy hung up before she could finish. He stuffed his phone into his pocket and shifted his weight. “Should we get some sleep, then?”

“Was that Keeley?”

He blinked in surprise. Her voice was small, not at all the confident woman he’d gotten used to. “Uh, yeah,” he admitted, cocking his head when he saw her wide eyes. “She says hi and to have a safe flight.” He paused for a moment before blurting out, “You don’t like her very much, do you?”

Flustered. The Grammy-winning, Billboard-topping, record-breaking popstar looked positively flustered as she gazed back at Roy, with her parted lips that formed a pretty little O. “Why do you think I don’t like Keeley?” she asked with an awkward little chuckle. “Of course I like Keeley. She’s great.”

Roy wasn’t convinced. He saw the way she looked when Keeley was around, quieter and more reserved, only speaking to the model when spoken to, almost disappointed when Roy and Keeley were in close quarters.

If Roy was a more foolish man, he’d think the singer was jealous of his ex-girlfriend.

But only an idiot would think that.

Instead of pushing the matter, Roy just shrugged and nodded in the direction of the hallway, of the separate bedrooms they’d be sleeping in. And, as she quietly followed him down that hallway, he couldn’t help but wonder if she’d fall asleep thinking of him- the way he would fall asleep thinking of her.

Taglist: @infinetlyforgotten@ladygrey03@book-of-roses@thatonedogwithablog@misshall14@wibblywobblyvampywolfystuff@akornsworld@itswhateveripromise@purecinnamonextract@oceanncurrent@dearvoidgoodnight@hopefulromances@respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog@hotleaf-juice@emmy2811@captainorbust-blog@preciousbabypeter@shion-ah@royalestrellas@eugene-emt-roe@littleesilvia@teenwolf01@sisinever@yagotgames@queen-of-the-downtown-scene@emmaallisonann@mrdsturd@confessionsofatotaldramaslut@charkachow@mrdsturd@littlepinapple@sunfairyy@shadowzena43@uhmidkmuch@imsoluckyeverythingworksoutforme @alicedsworld @222333777 @thegivenvoid

[hopefulromances]

Dude first of can I say I bloody love your writing second of all I just read that piece of reader and Jamie watching finding nemo and I had an idea. What if Jamie is watching when Harry met Sally for movie night with the team and it literally gives him the biggest mindblown lightbulb moment that he’s in love with the reader aka his best friend of over 10 years. The ending of it always makes me cry.

This is crazy did you read my other drabble where Jamie and reader watch when Harry Met Sally (I love that movie) But I LOVE THIS idea.

The boys filed into the rec room, the chairs already set up for the boys to be able to watch whatever movie Ted picked out for tonight. You were in there, finishing setting up the projector cause lord knows that if you didn't do it Ted would never be able to figure it out.

"And there!" You finished, throwing your hands up in success. "All you have to do is press play."

"Well, now, thank you (Y/N), you've been a big help," Ted grinned. "Alright now, folks! Let's file in, get your seat we're gonna get started soon!"

"(Y/N)!" Jamie called over to you. You looked over at him and smiled and Jamie's heart about stopped. Sure he was in love with you. You were brilliant. But it wasn't like he would ever say anything and ruin the friendship you had. "Over here."

"Sorry, Jamie, I got work to do, won't be able to stay tonight," you told him walking towards the door. "But I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

You walked out of the door. Some of the team pat him on the shoulder sympathetically as they walked by. Was it really that. obvious? How could you not see it?

Jamie elected to slump down next to Sam and Isaac instead, unable to keep the pout off his face.

"It is alright, Jamie," Sam comforted, nudging him. "She's just busy tonight."

"Yeah! Anyone with eyes can see she's into you," Isaac agreed.

"Thanks, lads, but I think it's hopeless," Jamie grumbled.

"Alright, greyhounds, now!" Ted clapped his hands getting the attention up at the front. "Tonight we're watching a movie about friendship, and love, and how friendship and love walk a very dangerous line. But all you need is that one push to spill your guts."

"Fucks sake," Jamie muttered, adjusting his seat.

"And without further ado, When Harry met Sally!" Ted scurried out from in front of the projector. Jamie rolled his eyes and settled in for another rom com that he didn't enjoy because all he could think about is (Y/N),

But what surprised him was how great the movie was. The writing, the flirting, it was all so comparable to his own life. By the end of it, he was leaning forward in his seat as Billy Crystal rushed down the streets of New York to find Meg Ryan.

"I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."

Jamie felt him mind racing as he listened to that line. He thought about you and the butterflies that followed him around whenever you were near. The smile that lit up the room. The laugh that could save lives. He wanted to be with you and he wanted to be with you right now.

Just as the lights turned on, Jamie shot up out of his chair and raced out of the room. The rest of the boys cheered as he did.

Ted turned to Beard. "I reckon you owe me 10 pounds."

Meanwhile, Jamie was rushing to your room. When he arrived, he knocked fiercely on the door, not letting up until you opened it.

"Jamie? What on earth-"

"I love you," he blurted out. You eyes widened, trying to take in what he was saying. "I love you. Like I love the way you smile, I love the way you talk, I love the way you always seem to know what I want for lunch even though I don't know what I want for lunch."

"Jamie wha-"

"I love you," He repeated. "You know my hair dye brand, you know that I like the temperature in my house to be 18 degrees. Not 20, not 15, 18 degrees. I love you (Y/N)."

You were speechless. You couldn't form a thought into a word if you wanted to. You just looked back and forth between Jamie's eyes trying to decipher if this was a joke.

"(Y/N), I love you and when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you-"

"Want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible..." You finished the quote, smiling softly.

"I know this is sudden, and whatever, but I just... I need you to know."

"Jamie?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you kiss me now?"

"God, yes."

And he did. He kissed you. He kissed you quite a lot actually.

[holdoncallfailed]

keep in mind that honest guv is of course the smaller animal but speedy service had a career-ending injury

[envihellbender]

Dbd killers… as dogs

The Trapper:

Dogo Argentino / Argentinian Mastiff

They are large and muscular (weighing 90-100lbs) pack hunting dogs (often taking down wild boar and puma). They’re strong, loyal, athletic dogs. This connects to The Trapper’s build, his connection to bear traps, as well as how his father used him to kill the miners in the same way these dogs are used to kill animals.

The Trapper would belong to a very rich family who illegal shipped him in, and he’d be an extremely loyal dog to a terrifying point. He’d never hurt his owners, but with everyone else he had a fierce nature.

The Wraith:

Greyhound

Greyhounds primarily hunt through sight and speed (rather than physical strength which equates to the Wraith’s cloaking ability and watching from the shadows kill style), they are tall, thin dogs (matching the Wraith’s build), and are quiet due to not being territorial (equating to the Wraith’s cloaking ability.)

The Wraith is a rescue dog who was raised as a fighting and racing dog. He would be taken in by an old couple after being left in the shelter unwanted for so long. He is extremely loyal and protective of his owners, or saviours as he sees them.

The Hillbilly:

Boxer

The boxer breed is generally medium to large (suiting Hillbilly’s stature of being heavy set but on the skinnier side.) Despite their appearance they are loving, family dogs (The Hillbilly was treated horrifically, and only turned to murder because of his abuse as strongly suggested by his tome.)

The Hillbilly was the runt of the litter and the only survivor, he was left out in the barn to die by the owners, expecting him to be eaten by the pigs. They were surprised when he lived and even more surprised when he killed and ate their chickens. They tried to catch him but he fled as soon as he saw the farmer leave his house with a gun. He was small for his breed and lack of nutrition meant he had developed a little funnily. He got picked up off the side of the road by a young couple, two men who ran a dog sanctuary. They expected him to be fierce or nervous but despite being treated so terribly he jumped into their car happily, happy to have friends at last.

The Nurse:

Poodle

They vary greatly in size but a standard poodle tends to be tall and slim, similar to the Nurse’s build. Poodles are a hypoallergenic dog breed, perfect for the Nurse. Poodles are considered highly intelligent dogs - which fits the backstory as well as her abilities and difficulty of her gameplay.

The Nurse was originally bought as an emotional support dog for a psychiatric ward. She was at first fairly good at her job, and was greatly sought after. However, after an accident involving a local lumberjack in the gardens she was left shy and vicious. Often snapping at and biting any patients who tried to harm her. As such, she ended up retiring, and the doctor taking her in… occasionally bringing her to the more difficult patients.

The Huntress:

Caucasian Shepard dog

Caucasian Shepard dogs are large dogs - weighing between 45kg - 70kg, similar to the Huntress’s physique. They were originally used to defend livestock from wolves, and are used now as guard dogs and to hunt bears. The original connects to what the Huntress thinks she is doing, and the present is what she’s actually doing.

The Huntress is the guard dog to an old woman who lives in a cabin she built with her own hands in the forest. The Huntress is loyal to her, and will defend her from man or beast. The Huntress’s mother, her mother, her mother, and her mother had all belonged to this same seemingly ageless woman. Always ripping to pieces any mortal being or otherwise any one who meant their mistress harm.

The Hag:

Wire Fox terrier

The wire fox terrier is a short, sturdy breed with a rough coat, not dissimilar to the Hag’s appearance. This terrier has a low threshold for boredom, and requires a lot of enrichment, this matches the Hag’s play style. They are very alert which is needed for the traps the Hag’s lay. They are also capable of tactical manoeuvring which also matches the Hag’s play style

The Hag was a family dog who kept the rats and other vermin away from the home. She was very attached to the children especially the oldest teenage girl. When she was kidnapped, the Hag pined for her and ran away to find her. When the Hag was found she burying frantically into the ground, when they tried to take her home she simply returned and continue to bury. After a few days someone thought to see what she was trying to get, and it was quickly found that there was a bunker underground. Thanks to the Hag, they found the teenage girl, she was hungry, tortured, and beaten, but alive.

The Doctor

German Shepard

The German Shepard / Alsatian is a large (30 to 40 kilos) working dog - matching the Doctor’s huge stature and his dedication to his work. German shepards often work in disability assistance, search and rescue, police work, and warfare. Given the doctor’s history as a medical doctor who abused his position it’s fitting that he be connected to these lines of work.

The Doctor is a proud, particularly huge dog that belongs to the head of the hospital, whenever patients or medical staff entered the room he stared, bared his teeth and wagged his tail almost manically. The head of the hospital found this quirk amusing, the Doctor almost look like he was smiling. He slowly got bigger and bigger, his teeth sharper, and it wasn’t until his collar was changed to a metal one that had sparks coming out of it and his fur lessened being g replaced for muscle that it became public knowledge that the Doctor was being tested on by the head of the hospital.

The Clown

Basset hound

Basset hounds are extremely prone to obesity and produce copious amounts of drool. This matches the Clown’s size, and his dribbling saliva feels like a similarity to his bottles of poisonous liquids and gases. Its hanging skin especially on its face is similar to the Clown’s sagging cheeks. The markings on the basset hounds face are called its “mask”, similar to the Clown’s eye make-up.

When Kenneth Chase was caught, a mass of bodies were found in his garden. What was odd was that all the fingers were missing, and every single person who investigated the case got strange feelings from Chase’s dog - the Clown. A particularly fat basset hound, who sat in the corner of the living room, watching and farting making the house smell horrific. One thing people never could figure out is what happened to Chase’s victims’ fingers. That was until the person who The Clown was rehomed to woke up with the Clown pulling and tugging at his fingers as if he was trying to rip them off. He eventually succeeded and wolfed it down like a prime piece of beef.

The Spirit

Kishu

An ancient Japanese breed, the kishu are known for being quiet, preferring to stalk their prey rather than bark. This matches the Spirit’s ability spirit walk. The breed is tough, agile, and friendly. This matches how the Spirit was originally friendly, and through her angry death she became a killer. They are also devoted and loyal to their family, a tragic comparison to The Spirit being betrayed by her father.

There is a legend about a pure white dog with light blue shine who stalks the grounds of an abandoned house. No one dares go near the old estate - the mass murder committed by the patriarch who used to live there sank into the ground poisoning it and the building. The legend says that the dog, named the Spirit appears to those who get to close, a guardian warning them. Some have reported that if they continue the Spirit screams and materialises in front of them, growing bigger and louder with every second.

The Legion

A mongrel of: a parson Russell terrier (Susie), Bull terrier (Frank), border terrier (Julie), Boston terrier (Joey)

The Legion is four different people - sometimes merged into one body - so it makes sense that they would be four different breeds. They are each terriers due to their stubborn nature and how they have a loud bravado next to their small stature.

Legion was abandoned by the side of the road when their mother had become unexpectedly pregnant from a mongrel down the street. Their mother a purebred border terrier’s litter would not sell for a dime. It was winter, but despite that, Legion survived, living off rodents and pests found in the warm of a ski lodge where it found its home. When the spring came and it ventured from the lodge into the forest, they became friends with a pack of street dogs, finally finding their home.

The Plague

Saluki

Saluki’s were one of the original dog breeds from ancient Mesopotamia, which is fitting for the Babylonian priestess. Saluki’s are also related to the Pariah dog, which is a free-roaming, half wild, dog that lives near human settlements in Asia. They are deep chested and long legged, giving them a similar build to the Plague.

No one in the neighbouring village is entirely sure where The Plague came from, he appeared in the monastery that was abandoned save from an ancient monk who everyone also has little idea as to where he came from. Every gives the place a wide birth, as it’s said that even touching the stone or hearing the Plague’s bark is enough for the sickness to enter your body.

The Ghost Face

Dandie dinmont terrier

The Dandie Dinmont terrier is the only dog to be named after a fictional character, fitting for the Ghost Face who took the title from killers and urban legends of the past. The breed is long but short, matching the Ghost Face ace’s lanky body. Like most terriers they were used for hunting, which fits the Ghost Face’s killing style. It’s tough but friendly temperament matches the fact that whilst he’s a brutal killer, many of the players can be quite mischievous and silly with this character.

All great writers have dogs or cats, Jed Olsen said. Most animals disliked him on sight, except for crows and his one particular dog who he named the Ghost Face. He showed up on Jed’s doorstep one day, barking until he answered. He ran inside, ignore Jed’s calls and sat in the kitchen waggling his tail. Jed had some left over chicken for him which he wolfed down, and the Ghost Face curled up by the radiator to get warm. Jed didn’t try and check to see if the dog had a microchip, he didn’t care. He was his now. And he was such a good boy to have around, he’d run up to Jed and tilt his head whenever he sensed intruders. He’d run to different areas of the scene and bark to distract victims so Jed could sneak up on them. The Ghost Face - he was such a good loyal boy.

The Oni

Akita

The Akita is a large dog that hails from the mountains in Japan. It has a double coat and was bred to hunt down bears. They are territorial and vicious to strangers. This all fits with the Oni, a large, strong and brutal killer who hunts down survivors using their blood, and his background of hunting false Samurai.

There are many different types of Oni that stalk Japan, one is a gigantic canine that runs over mountains and glides over trees looking for its prey. It is a vicious, intelligent beast, and the stories go that this yokai is the result of an arrogant samurai filled with hubris that he could purify Japan. He was punished by the gods, putting him in the body of a dog, showing that he is nothing but a wild beast.

The Deathslinger

Irish wolfhound

The Irish Wolfhound is a sighthound (perfect for a speargun wielder), and the breed are used as a mascot for the Irish Guards, similar to how the Deathslinger was used by the prison guards to make tortured devices. The Irish wolfhound has wiry fur, hair, and beard - the latter two matching the Deathslinger’s appearance.

The Deathslinger was a guard dog for a prison, specifically for the head torturer. He was loyal to him specifically not the guards or residents. When the head torturer had his victims the Deathslinger would watch intently, occasionally the head torturer would deliberately let the prisoners think they can run away, and that was when the Deathslinger’s hunt and enrichment began.

The Blight

A particularly old, inbred British bulldog

The British Bulldog - through no fault of its own - is seen as a symbol of Britain in the U.K. this fits with the Blight’s background of being a British colonialist (he may be Scottish, but clearly a unionist.) The inbred nature of the said bulldog means it looks ill and finds it difficult to breath - this matches the Blight’s appearance.

Talbot Grimes had no qualms about experimenting on humans or animals, he didn’t even bat an eyelid at running tests and feeding different chemicals to his treasured dog who he nicknamed the Blight. It was a sickly beast, it drooled constantly and snorted as it walked, but its drool was … Different. A thick substance that was a glowing yellow, like fire was pouring out of the thing.

The Twins

A crossbreed of a chihuahua (Victor) and a ca de bou (Charlotte)

Due to the nature of the twins it makes sense for them to merge into being a mongrel of the smallest dog breed (Victor - chihuahua) and a tough

The runt of an accidental litter, the Twins absolutely should have absolutely not survived and were thrown to be drowned as a “mercy”. However, somehow, the dog was washed down the river and landed down on the coast. It was picked up by a pair of conjoined twins who kept a lighthouse, and given mercy it was raised to keep watch of the building and given plenty of scraps, meat, and fish to feast on.

The Trickster

Korean Jindo

The Korean Jindo is considered one of Korea’s national treasures, which I’m sure is what the Trickster considers himself. He is of the hudu body type, taller and thinner to match the Trickster’s stature. He has the “brindle” colouring which bares similarity to a tiger, matching his bold and bright sense of style.

The Trickster is very well known all over the internet. The owner’s instagram had millions of followers that show their beautiful dog’s antics. Many are devoted to him, citing his haunting eyes with such a piercing and knowing energy they can’t look away from him. His fur looks as if it would feel just like the most expensive silks, and his owner shows how they feed him on the most expensive meats and he is given the bed in their home whilst they sleep on the floor. However, in the latest posts it seems that’s the owner is getting weaker, their voice shaking whenever they speak. The Trickster doesn’t mind, plenty are commenting and wanting to take over this beautiful canine’s care.

The Artist

Peruvian Inca Orchid

Peruvian Inca Orchid’s are hairless dogs associated with the ancient Inca empire in Peru. Their long muzzles and dark skin with short hair bares resemblance to the Artists face and head shape which are deliberately birdlike. The colours can be different but they are usually the colour of corvids. They are also often used as test subjects to research dermatological conditions, similar to how the Artist was experimented on by the Entity.

It’s strange, but there have been an influx of crows in Columbia - they don’t live there, but they have attached themselves to a dog of a family. Not even the daughter Carmina, simply their dog. A Peruvian Inca orchid they dubbed the Artist due to how much he loved to sit and watch the children draw and even stamp paint onto canvas with his paws. He was a quiet, loyal dog who gave them no trouble until the birds came. They followed him, sat by him, and even brought him animal carcasses to feast on. They grew in number, more crows appearing every day, local scientists theorised they must have migrated from European and North American countries. Soon their entire village was swarmed by crows, and it didn’t take long for the changes they gave to the Artist to begin.

The Dredge

Crossbreed miscellaneous

A mongrel made of so many different types of dogs no one is entirely sure what type it is and he looks a little strange because of it. It almost seems like he is every single dog that has existed merged into one, or as if he picks up breeds and adds them to his collection every time he sees one. For his appearance seems to change regularly.

The Dredge is a local dog that everyone in its town has seen. It hangs around the park and wanders the streets at night. It’s tall - some adults find he reaches their shoulders or past their heads completely. His suspense similar to a greyhound, but he has thick fur like an Alsatian. His colouring and muzzle are similar to a husky, but then some say his fur is short and similar to a boxers. It seems everyone sees a little something different in him, more breeds than they can imagine. The only thing that remains is his height and elongated limbs. He enjoys hiding and watching, some say he’s a guardian, others say he’s dangerous - maybe a hunter and any missing person cases are often blamed on the Dredge.

The Knight

Doberman

The Doberman is an intelligent, alert, fiercely loyal dog which are all perfect attributes for the Knight. It reflects his ability to maintain guard over survivors, attacking at the slightest movement. They are also large dogs, matching the Knight’s physique. They also hail from Central Europe.

To this day, important government buildings in Hungary have a portrait to this ancient Doberman nicknamed simply as the Knight. The stories say that this dog was kept by a Tarhos Kovács who used his favoured Knight for advice and to fight alongside him in battle. Everyone knew that the Knight in question was a Doberman, a proud noble one who had a sharp mind and such strength that many doubt he was simply a dog.

The Skull Merchant

Chilean Terrier

Chilean terrier’s are restless and bark regularly, they are tireless companions and fantastic watch dogs, similar to the Skull merchant’s drones which keep watch and are loud if triggered. Their main colour is white with black and brown markings, they have pointed faces and are short in stature, mimicking the appearance of the Skull Merchant.

The Skull Merchant began life as a pampered lap dog for a manga artist, but as she grew older she quickly became bored. She attempted to be his watch and guard dog but he didn’t appreciate her barking and growling at strangers who entered their territory. It didn’t take long for her to become vicious, biting her owner if he tried to interfere. He abandoned her, tying her up on the side of the road. As luck would have it whilst she looked particularly cold and hungry, an assistant for a CEO passed. He took her in as a kindness, but after he watched what a dutiful and fantastic watch dog she was… well, he brought his idea to the boss and a few years later the drone system not only inspired by The Skull Merchant but using an OS that mimicked how her brain worked was all the rage. It quickly made all over security systems obsolete.

The Unknown:

Skinwalker.

You feel sorry for it. The wet, shaggy dog curled up on the side of the road. Maybe you get out, intending to see if it had a collar and take it to the shelter. When you get close, it raises its black furred head. The fur around its muzzle is missing and its eyes are too big, the whites are scarlet and its teeth are poking through. As it stands it ends up on two legs. It’s growing, its furry limbs twisting and bending as it does. That is… Not a real dog.

Run.

[nitrozem]

I love dressing Val up 😅

Fun Fact: Val use to travel in a caravan, playing his guitar and fostering retired racing greyhounds. He ended up keeping Cash though. (Kind of want to get him another one) He became a werewolf after he partied with a bunch of them at Moonwood Mill. Before I said he got bit randomly and woke up like "huh, okay" but I want to change it to he partied with them and wanted to become one himself because being a werewolf sounded "radical". So he asked the big boss werewolf, Ajay, to give him a cursed bite, and that's how they know each other!

[fantasy-anatomy-analyst]

I like the quadrupedal human post! I'm trying to do something similar with a species design for my own world. I'm struggling though because I'm trying to make them similar to cheetahs, so fast pursuit hunting. I'm struggling to find a way to make them leaner without looking malnourished. Any suggestions on how to fix that?

animals that are built to run fast do tend to be a lot more lean and flexible. it's easy to look at, say, a racing greyhound and assume it's malnourished because of how skinny it is! but this body shape is ideal for speed running. it allows more flexibility in the spine to really give the back legs more reach for a longer and more powerful stride.

(image description: photos of cheetahs and greyhound dogs, showing how narrow their bodies look. end description)

You'll notice that they look skinniest when their bodies are fully extended in the middle of their running stride. this is because of the stretch and fold of muscles and skin! so you can practice drawing your people in different poses to get a sense of how they should move and what their bodies look like in different poses. ultimately, they will always be skinnier than a people species built for more endurance or power rather than speed. but you can bring some emphasis to the shape of their muscles, especially since muscle softens up a lot when it's not being flexed.

(image description: diagram of an arm flexing, showing how the shape of the bicep and tricep change when they're flexed. end description)

in other words, you can make them look a little more squishy when relaxed and then display the muscle definition more when they're in action, and that includes areas like the belly! they're going to look less malnourished if you draw them softer when they're relaxed and don't rely on dehydrated flexing muscle images as a reference point. watching videos of olympic runners before, during, and after a race will probably be a really good starting point! they're the humans who are best at running fast, so they have exactly the sort of body type that I think would be helpful for you.

[allthedesiredusernamesaretaken]

" ... On your marks, get set, go ... "

For the Bicycle Race video (1978), the Queen hired 65 models to ride naked around Wimbledon Greyhound Stadium. They ended up using special effects to hide the nudity in the final edit.

[notasapleasure]

It both broke my heart and fanned the flames of my hatred against the greyhound racing industry – but also, while I looked up articles on “how to help my greyhound make friends”, I realised this must be what my own parents went through when I was at primary school. I too was an awkward weirdo, simultaneously a loner who got given a special “job” as a “library assistant” so I would be allowed to hide there at lunch, and the awkwardly intense kid who got in trouble for scaring his peers with a graphic tale about how a girl’s leg fell off in the school toilet. Like Basil, I loved adults, and remember making friends with a nice boy named Matthew and spending all my time with his mum, a tiny child gossiping about people I didn’t know and eating cucumber sandwiches, while Matthew kicked a ball around outside on his own. My parents did their best to help me, my dad spending a night teaching me how to “walk normally”, or my mother giving a speech about standing up to bullies, which resulted in me hiding up a tree and throwing a cooked fish at a girl named Lauren. When they suggested I share my interests with the class, I somehow ended up with a regular teaching slot where I would lecture everyone on ancient Egypt while the teacher had a smoke, which was obviously very cool.

Delightful, of course.

Wonder why my dad sent me it though

[elfdragon12]

"This type of dog would cost so much money from a breeder, no way it could be a rescue!"

You would think, but no. That's not the case at all. Any type of dog is just as likely to be a rescue for any number of reasons.

Some people have major life changes that require them to give up their dog. Serious injury, loss of financial stability, or the dog just cannot adapt to life changes such as new children. My family knew an elderly woman who had given us her sweet little dachshund because her allergies were a struggle (she ended up feeling too lonely without the dachshund, so the pooch was returned to her and she chose to stick with her medication).

Some people think they want a certain breed of dog but actually can't handle it at all. Just look at huskies! They're an extremely popular and well-known breed, but the majority of people cannot handle their exercise needs. My own shar pei-husky rescue (a designer mix, a light google search found someone selling this type of puppy at $900) requires an at least one hour long walk but I have to prepare to spend 2 hours outside with her. Plus she has a very high prey drive and can be quite stubborn, especially when I try to walk her past the pet store where the manager gives her treats. I met a lady who took in a Malinois-pit bull mix (bred ON PURPOSE) because the people who originally wanted this puppy couldn't handle his energy and were ready to give him up after a few months.

Some people treat dogs like disposable objects and just get rid of it when they're bored or just don't feel like caring for it anymore. Yes, this is a living being that cost them a lot of money, but that doesn't mean they actually care.

Some dogs are retired sporting dogs that got dumped. This is especially common for greyhounds. Within the past few years, Florida put a ban of greyhound racing which ended up displacing a lot of racing dogs. Alternately, dogs originally bred for jobs like K9 police work but didn't make the cut because their personalities didn't fit.

Dogs can can end up in shelters for any sort of reason and being an "expensive" breed can't always save them from this fate.

[wyrddogs]

Ratting

Got together for impromptu ratting last night. It got surprisingly cool at 9pm considering the high that day was 112F (44C), so none of us had to worry about heat exhaustion, which was nice.

The boys have been extremely annoying all week during the heatwave, so I brought both of them and dual handled. It was. interesting. XD I put Kermit on his usual longline and Zaku on a flexi so I didn't have to deal with two lines, and it was absolutely the correct choice.

We went to our faithful Home Depot and caught six rats over about three hours. Zaku started out pretty clueless and was just happy to be here, but after we put up our first rat (that escaped through a chain link fence), he was like oh. Then he slammed himself face-first into a bush with the pointer.

It was very cute that he kept watching Kermit climb into and under things, and he'd follow (usually stomping all over Kermit in the process). I was having a hell of a time keeping their lines untangled, so I think the only times I'll bring the child out is to open parking lots like Home Depot or to our farm abatement trips. Trying to handle both of them while walking through the city will be too hard. At one point a rat raced past us and I ended up with one dog wrapped around a tree and the other dog trying to dislocate my shoulder, with my arms crossed over themselves.

Zaku did get to put his mouth on a live rat finally! We were giving Kermit a break from flushing (it takes a lot of brainpower and he gets tired) so we were set up as catch dogs. The rat ended up flushing straight into us. Kermit dove in first and nailed it, got bit, let go, Zaku grabbed it, got bit, and dropped it in surprise. They both kept leaping in and grabbing and dropping it, then Zaku finally accidentally throw it straight back into the bush. It was mortally wounded, so when we finally pushed it out again, the greyhound grabbed it immediately.

This was Zaku's first time learning prey can bite back, and he did great. He was never scared, just surprised. This was also the third rat that night that Kermit bit and lost; I wish he had a harder mouth. He sometimes really struggles to kill the rats. At least he slows them down for the other dogs. And anyway his true specialty is locating and flushing, so it's fine.

We got home at midnight, and after I bathed Kermit and showered, we got to bed at 12:30. Both dogs woke me up at 6am on the dot for walkies. I wish I knew what their energy source was, because I want in on it. XD

[faunandfloraas]

the lonely st music video is so funny, felix and his finger guns, jeongin walking into the night sky. hyunjins in a saw trap. seungmin's locked in a greyhound racing ring or some shit. everything chans doing. lee know seemingly falling to his death but waking up in the alien abduction lights room, blue steels to the camera. end scene.

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

Hello brilliant friend! if you’re still playing that wip ask, and no-one has already asked, I would love to hear about ‘AC Milan’ and/or ‘Tear Me Apart’! (all of them sound amazing- how do you DO this!!??!!) 💚🌹💚🌹💚

Yes of course! And even if I wasn’t I could never say no to you :) Thank youuuuuuuuu (from this wip ask post)

AC Milan is when the team is playing their last Champions League match of the first round (away at you guessed it, AC Milan, they are my Serie A team) and they need to win to advance to the next round. There’s a corner and Jamie, Zoreaux and an AC Milan player all collide and are varying levels of injured. But the Greyhounds only have one substitution left and they need a goalie and Jamie doesn’t want to leave them playing with one less so he hides his injury and then obviously makes it worse.

He wasn’t as fast as he usually was, his cuts not as quick, but adrenaline was a hell of a drug.

It was injury time when it all fell apart. Jamie was racing down an AC Milan player, too delirious with pain to even fully tell who it was, Hernandez or Giroux; they both looked the same from behind with their blonde tips. Jamie reached them just as the player entered the zone, and he slid into the tackle, hitting the ball away, but fire shot through his hamstring, and someone screamed.

Jamie would later discover it was him.

Tear Me Apart is where Jamie tears his Achilles and it covers his recovery and working back to play.

“Don’t you need a fucking MRI or something to confirm it?” Roy asks.

The doctor shook his head. Jamie didn’t need an MRI either. He knew his body. And his body right now had betrayed him, given out on him. Roy looked ashen. Torn ACLs were commonplace. Horrible news, but it was something Roy had experience with. Achilles tears were less common. Fifteen years ago, it would’ve ended a career. Now, not always. Beckham had come back from one, and he was older than Jamie at the time. Someone on Aston Villa he thinks he remembered recently too. It would be a long road, but Jamie never shied away from hard work.

[robottheodorlasso]

So, I went looking up the translation of AFC Richmond motto, Gradarius Firmus Victoria, because I was thinking of using it in some future fanart. (And also because I’m a Latin Motto Enjoyer™️) Queue me stumbling upon maybe the funniest and most targeted Ted Lasso article I’ve ever seen, detailing the motto's janky latin. Which was then followed up with a second article after the official Ted Lasso Twitter account gave It’s in-universe translation of the motto/ reasoning for the butchered Latin. This is exactly the kind of indulgent nonsense I’m in love with.

Before I get into it, I absolutely recommend you go read the article! It made me laugh, gets delightfully technical about Latin translation and goes into a lot of depth about why the motto just does not work grammatically. but even outside of that it touches on other points such as the classism inherent in sports, latin, and linguistics, albeit briefly. Look, it's a 7 min read and a joy at that, it’s worth the time!

TL;DR: Dear lord, the mottos Latin is so janky. not only are the grammatical cases just strange, but it uses a mix of both masculine and feminine endings (which I admit, I’m embarrassed I didn’t notice till now.) to quote Ed DeHoratius:

“The Latin motto in the end is at best ambiguous and at worst as fictional as the show itself. Gradarius Firmus Victoria is, if correct grammatically, awkward Latin”

The article goes on to give a few possible translations, though they all require editing the original phrase to actually make it work, but ultimately the conclusion DeHoratius comes to is this:

“The strongest meaning is ‘A strong hand / coach guides us to victory’; that has the strength of other Latin mottos that I assume the show is trying to invoke. But that’s not what the Latin says.”

(Ok but side note: the bit that got me was that to modern knowledge, ‘gradarius’ has only ever been used ONCE in classical Latin. Which is just, so funny. Honey… how did you get into this motto??)

However, After this article was written the official Twitter account stated that in 1899, the AFC Richmond owner wanted the club to have a motto and that is should be “slow and steady wins the race.” But After local latin scholars refused to translate the phrase because they thought it was inappropriate for a team called “the greyhounds” he asked his 6 year old daughter to help with the translation.

Which, as an in universe thing? Kinda a funny detail! Seems like something a rich Victorian white guy would do! But that’s not *really* how the actual Latin came about now was it? DeHoratius himself in his article says he’s not sure if the bad translation job or an intentional joke. Which, yeah! Hard to tell! Though to me it does feel like it was an unintentional mistake that was pointed out. Take this all as your reminder to talk to your local linguists and classicists if you want something properly translated into Latin as a dictionary is only gonna get you so far. Frankly, it’s a good idea to get any translation to or from a language you arnt familiar with double checked.

Anyways what meaning will I go with? Personally I’m inclined to go with Ed DeHoratius’s translation, as I feel it more fitting for the shows Themes and Motifs™️

[lukanine]

sighthounds !

(first post, woohoo) here's a brief overview on sighthounds! the silly guys :]

ID: a borzoi running; they have long legs and long, white fur. /end ID

these are dogs that are used to hunt prey by sight

they're usually slender and elongated, and are very good at running

they are the oldest type of purebred dog

they also have several other names, including: gazehounds, windhounds, and greyhounds (this one is outdated; it used to refer to the whole group of sighthounds, but it now restricted to only a few breeds

there are around 53 sighthound breeds, with half of them originating in africa, asia, and the mediterranean region

sighthounds hunt in two different ways: 1. chase + catch + kill, 2. chase + catch + secure (without killing) due to religious traditions that require game to be killed in a ritual manner in order to be eaten

they have good vision

usually calm, sociable, and sensitive, + they typically aren't barkers

some popular sighthounds include: greyhounds, borzois, whippets, afghan hounds, and irish wolfhounds

they are used a lot in coursing (prey chasing competitions) and racing sports

very strong prey drive, as do most sporting dogs

ID: brindle and white whippet standing still, facing right. /end ID

[kangals]

Congrats on possible puppy! If it's not too personal, I wanted to ask if you would ever consider rescuing another greyhound? Or was Boone a one-time thing?

I’ve thought about it quite a bit and I think my answer comes down to “yes, but not right now.” I loved Boone with my entire heart and he was a wonderful dog. He also gave me a lot of challenges and stress, some with common breed-isms and sometimes just uniquely. Certainly right now, that’s all still too raw to ever consider doing it again. But I suspect I’ll always have a very soft spot for greys and could see myself with one again someday.

honestly with the decline of racing I’m not even sure what the rescue landscape will look like in s few years - we’ve already seen such a sharp drop in rescues and lots of puppies and younger dogs popping up. I don’t know if Racers are a dying breed (no pun intended) and if the greys of the future will still be the same.

a week after Boone passed I had to work a community pet-friendly event, and I was dreading it because I always end up seeing at least a few greys at those, and I wasn’t sure if I was going to just burst into tears on the spot. and I did see greys, but honestly, I was fine. because all I could think while I was watching them and patting them was “you’re not my dog.” I knew they weren’t him, and that disconnect was extremely jarring. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to get over that.