#jamie always feels as big as the universe though

[scandinavianfairytale]

Old feelings die hard

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x Reader

Warnings: None 💙

It was his first match back at home. Manchester. He knew it'll be bad. He knew no one besides his mom and Jerry would be happy to see him.

Though his mind kept thinking of you.

Would you spare a kind word? A flash of a smile for him? Or maybe even a hug. But he didn't dare to hope. All he knew was that he wanted to find you. See you again.

Apologize.

So before the team got up for the morning practice, he put on his hoodie and jogged all the way to the café he knew you owned.

And there you were.

He stopped at the big window and stared at your smiling face as you prepared the shop to open. It was amazing to see you so content, and he was so proud. You really made it - you had your own coffee shop and a good one, according to Google reviews. It was a cozy place, walls lined with books and plants, all your favorite things. His will was wavering and his anxiety was rising, his chest heaving. But he needed to do this. It was now or never.

He entered the café carefully, and he heard you humming to yourself as the steamer made its normal high-pitched noise. You busied yourself around the coffee machine, completely oblivious to the fact that you had company observing your every move.

Jamie was trying to think of a way to pull you out of your world, but he couldn't think of a justifiable reason. You looked so happy, reaching for cups and different coffee beans. That is until you finally turned around to fill the cookie jar on the counter and let out a shriek of surprise as you found a person standing inside the still closed coffee shop.

"Jamie fucking Tartt. As I live and breathe." You finally smiled as you realized who was standing in front of you. Making your way around the counter you wrapped your arms around him. Jamie was taken aback by the sudden hug but once the initial shock wore off his hands grabbed your torso and brought you even closer to him.

"Matcha latte?" You asked as you sat him down at one of the tables at the back. With just one look at him, you knew feeding him coffee would be a bad idea.

"Sure."

"How have you been?" He asked as he waited and stared at you.

"Busy. You know how it is." You flashed him a smile, but didn't linger. "How have you been? I saw that Richmond is making stride, congrats!"

"Yeah..." Jamie didn't sound as confident or cocky as you were used to, so your head immediately snapped back from the matcha and you finally took him in. Properly this time. Before, you just assumed it might be before-game-jitters.

"Jamie, what's wrong?" You asked concerned.

"I've been meaning to contact you for a while now." He paused and met your eyes. "I've been a shit person. You didn't deserve it and I never got to say it when I got the chance, but...I love you. I always have. Since that day that you pushed me down in the forest and sat on me because I was being a cocky little prick." You smiled at that.

"I wish I could take all the bad stuff back. I wouldn't have hurt you. And I wouldn't have left. I am so sorry." Jamie hung his head.

"That must've been weighing on you for a long time." You replied with a pause. What he was talking about was something you didn't think about that often. Of course being the girlfriend of a young football star and then being left very abruptly phased you and impacted your future relationships, but therapy helped a lot. It's not just that Jamie was a prick, no sugarcoating needed there, but you weren't a sunshine either. "Jamie, we both weren't great people - we were still basically teenagers. You were going pro in football and I was going abroad for university. We would have broken up eventually or someone would have cheated and I think while the execution was not great, you did the only right thing. So, I hold absolutely no hard feelings for you." You smiled and he finally lifted his head to look at you.

"As for the confession about love...why don't you first get into the good graces of Manchester and then we can talk, I don't plan on jeopardizing my entire life because the man I want to date is hated by the whole fucking city."

"Wait...would you want to go on a date with me?" Jamie asked, looking shocked.

"Well, I'm single and the only guy I ever really loved in my life just said that he still loves me, so I guess so?" You grinned.

"Can I kiss you?" Jamie stood up from his seat, with a little more pep and you nodded, stepping closer to him with a ridiculous smile on your face. It was like muscle memory when your lips met and suddenly all the other guys made sense - you never liked kissing them as much as Jamie. Your therapist offered that idea to you but it dawned on you just now.

Thank you for reading! 😊💙

The GIF belongs to the amazing creator 😊

[hopefulromances]

Long Time Coming I Chapter 17 I It's Been A Long Time Coming

Summary: Being hired as the first female assistant coach in the league was a challenge of it itself. Being a football prodigy and University Football Legend was easy enough. Coaching Jamie Tartt was a challenge all on its own.

Chapter Summary: The final chapter. Read the end note for more.

Word Count: 5.3K

Warning: The most canon divergent I get (roykeeley endgame forever), a little more self-indulgent than usual, some more heated content but nothing smutty, I'm just sad y'all

Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve 13 14 15 16

Change was in the air. A lot of things were changing. There was a lot of good change. Nate was back! He was just working with Will right now, but I could already tell he was different from how he left. He apologized to me for all the nasty things he had said and done. I was a little wary at first, but Jamie reminded me that I’d given him a second chance and Nate deserved one too.

Another good change was that Roy and Keeley had officially gotten back together. Much to the relief of everyone else in the club who couldn’t bear to see them apart. It was nice to have another couple around our age to go out with. We already had a double date set up for the week after the last game.

Then, of course, there was some not so good change. When Ted told Roy and I that he and Beard would be leaving at the end of the season, I almost passed out. My personal plans aside, I’d never done this without him, and I didn’t know if I wanted to.  But Ted assured both of us that the club was in good hands with the two of us.  Many tears were shed and that was before we told the team.

Roy and I went out alone that night. I told Jamie that we had some stuff to plan but really, the two of us just needed to be with each other.

            “What was Ted going on about?” Roy asked, taking a long sip of his beer. “About not letting his decision get in the way of any plans we might have?”

I shrugged, playing with my cocktail, trying to be inconspicuous. But, as usual, Roy could see right through me.

            “I haven’t figured out all the details,” I said, finally. “But… yeah… something’s planned, a bit.”

I expected him to be cross with me for leaving him to deal with the changes alone, but he wasn’t. He just lifted his glass towards me.

            “To big fucking changes,” he offered.

I smiled, feeling a warmth in my chest. “To big fucking changes.”

            “And you know,” he stopped me before I could take a sip. “We’re always here for you. Not just me, the whole fucking team would die for you.” It was very sweet. Roy being vulnerable with me for a second. “Don’t go getting all… fucking… emotional on me, (Y/N).”

            “You know what this means, Roy.”

            “We are not fucking, hugging.”

            “Oh, yes we are.”

I when I got home that night, Jamie was there waiting for me. We always ended up at each other’s houses somehow or another though we promised we wouldn’t move in together until after the end of the season. But there he was waiting for me anyways, washing dishes in the kitchen.

            “Hey, babe, how was grandad?” he asked, finishing up the plate he was washing.

I smiled at it, at the domestic nature of the act, at the thought of walking home to Jamie every day for the rest of my life. I walked up and wrapped my arms around his waist, resting my head on his back.

            “Was good,” I answered, rubbing my head on his skin.

            “Now who’s acting like a cat?” He rumbled, smirking as he looked back at you.

I hummed a giggle, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade before letting go again. I leaned against the island and waited for him to finished up. He threw the dish towel over his shoulder as he turned to look at me.

            “What?” Jamie questioned, smirking.

            “What?” I returned.

            “You got a funny look on your face,” he told me, reaching out to pinch my cheek. “Look all spacey.”

I batted his hand away, shaking my head. “No… it’s just,” I rubbed at my chin. “There’s a lot of change happening right now… isn’t there.” Jamie cocked his head at me, motioning for me to continue. “Well… Ted and Beard are leaving, Nate’s back, Roy and Keeley are back together – which is great – but… it’s just a lot.”

Jamie nodded. “Yeah… it is. Was there anything else… that was changing… that you might want to tell me?”

Jamie had come to know me very well. Too well for my comfort sometimes. He could tell there was something going on in my head, something I wasn’t telling him. But that was something I still didn’t want to share quite yet, wasn’t ready to share.

            “No, I’m just same old me,” I grinned, stepping forward to slot myself between his legs. His mouth dropped into that lazy smile that drove me mad. I took a shaky breath and nodded at him.  “And we… we’re not changing? Yeah?”

            “I don’t plan on changing a thing,” He quipped, wrapping his arms low around my hips. “That is… unless we’re changing the amount of clothes you’re wearing.” He tugged at my pants slightly, drawing a laugh from me. Safe to say, no matter what else changed, we would be okay.

The final day of training came and went. The boys put on their show for Ted and Beard, who loved it, of course. There was so much movement happening all around the locker room. I sat in the crook of Jamie’s leg that he kept propped up on the bench as we chatted with Cockburn and Dixon when Keeley walked in with her usual cheerful greeting.

I took a moment to look around the room. At the team, and the coaches, and the people, walking in and out. It felt so different. So different from the locker room I’d seen three years ago. It felt much more alive and warmer, inviting people to come join the family. I felt a pang of nostalgia for it already, and there I was, sitting in the moment.

It felt like the end of something. It was the end of the season sure, but it was more than that. With Ted leaving and the future so unsure, it was really the end of an era at Richmond. The Lasso era was ending. And I missed it already.

Jamie and Roy went out that night for a drink. Jamie was practically bouncing, excited that Roy had invited him out and was going to allow him to drink a single beer. So, I took the opportunity to go to Keeley’s to discuss my plans with her.

I arrived at Keeley’s doorstep that night. If anyone would be able to help me figure out the logistics of this, it’d be her. I hadn’t told anyone else about this idea, just Ted and the very vague conversation I’d had with Jamie.

            “(Y/N)!” Keeley squeal when she opened the door. “What are you doing here?”

            “Hi Keeley,” I greeted, smiling. “I had something I wanted to talk to you about.”

It didn’t take long, only about an hour of chatting for us to figure out how to go about the plan. Keeley had been so excited, jumping on board immediately, grabbing her notebook to jot down some notes and start sketching some logo ideas.

            “Do you think Rebecca will go for it?” I asked, nervously.

            “Go for it? She’ll love it!” Keeley enthused. She sipped on her wine. “Is this why you’ve been so weird at training and such. Cause it’s not just Ted and Beard leaving?”

            “Acting weird?” I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “Is that way Roy said?”

Keeley smirked. “Said you were plotting something.”

            “Yeah, his death for starters,” I laughed, grinning. Keeley let out a cackle that only she could make. Our laughter was interrupted by a knock on the door. I looked at the clock, it was late, later than a random passerby. “Did you order food?”

            “No, I thought you did,” Keeley shrugged, scooting her chair back.

At the door was Roy and Jamie, and from the looks of it, they’d been in some sort of scuffle.

            “My word, what’s happen to you two?” I cried as Keeley opened the door.

Jamie’s nose was bleeding, his head tilted back slightly as he pinched the bridge and Roy’s shirt had been nearly torn off. They had other bumps and bruises across their bodies, and I honestly couldn’t believe it.  We finally sat them down at Keeley’s table, Keeley and I sat next to each other facing Roy and Jamie.

            “All right, are you gonna tell us what happened?” Keeley asked, handing Roy an ice pack. I handed Jamie a fresh tissue, wiping his face with my thumb, even as he tried to duck away from me.

            “Better be a cool story, or else this is just sad,” I echoed, pulling back from Jamie finally.

Jamie looked over at Roy who shrugged, gesturing for Jamie to start.

            “We got in a fight,” Jamie started.

            “About the two of you,” Roy finished.

Keeley and I looked at each other a bit incredulous before replying in unison. “Why!?”

            “Well, we was just talking about the trip to Brazil coming up that the four of us are going on, and I was saying how great Keeley was at her job,” Roy explained, smiling at Keeley.

            “And I was saying how you’re fantastic at your job, too, (Y/N),” Jamie followed up quickly. “How you had improved the team so much this season, the lads really respect you.”

Roy shook his head and turned to look at Jamie. “And I was saying how, of course, I thought you were good at your job, but Keeley runs her own PR firm, she’s fucking next level.”

Jamie growled and turned to face Roy. “But (Y/N) is the first female coach in the whole premier league, and she’s the only Captain from the Imperial girls’ team to win three straight championships.”

Roy leaned forward to get in Jamie’s face. “But Keeley is who makes (Y/N) look good. Keeley makes all of us look good.:

Jamie matches him immediately. “But (Y/N) makes sure there is good stuff to make look good.”

            “Oh my GOD!” I shout out, slamming my hands on the table. Roy and Jamie flinch away from each other. “Did you really get in a fist fight to try and prove which one of us was better?” I pointed between Keeley and myself.

The boys shrugged, answering me without saying a word.

            “Are you joking?” Keeley reared. “Like are you seriously joking?”

She and I looked at each other. Without another word, we kicked the boys out and returned to our wine night.

I returned home later that night to find Jamie on the couch, munching on a chicken kebab, his nose stuffed with tissues. I shook my head as I came down to sit next to him.

            “You are ridiculous, you know that?” I chuckled, taking the kebab from him. He let out a grunt of protest but didn’t stop me from taking a bite.

            “Oi, I had to wrestle Roy for that one,” he settled me into his side, his arm wrapping around me.

            “Oh, I didn’t know it was WrestleMania tonight,” I gaped shaking my head. I brought a hand up and mussed his hair. “What were you thinking? Getting in a fight with Roy.”

            “I was defending your honor,” He defended, grabbing my hand to pull it away from his head. “Don’t see the harm in it, just guys being dudes.”

I almost choked on my kebab. “Guys being dudes? You really have lots it.”

He smiled and pulled me into him, turning the TV on. I leaned back against his shoulder, staring at the screen, chewing on the latter half of his kebab. Now was the time.

            “Jamie, I’m quitting coaching.”

            “What?” He flew up from his seat, knocking me to the side. “What’re you doing that for? Is it Nate? Did he say something? Or Roy? I’ll kill them both!”

“No! No, Jamie listen.” I grabbed his hands, coaxing him to sit back down. “It’s not anyone else… it’s me. It’s what I’ve been… planning.”

Jamie frowned, his eyes looking into mine for answers. “You’re not gonna coach me anymore?”

I felt my heart break just a little at his pitiful tone. I brought my hand up to his face, holding his neck in my grasp. 

            “No, Jamie… I’m not. I’m not going to coach anyone,” I started to explain. “See, what I realized, the part of coaching I’m good at is the playing bit. Understanding the players and how they think. It helped Ted a lot but… I’m not a coach. I’m a player.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “You want to play? You’re gonna join a women’s team?”

            “Yeah?” I worried my bottom lip as he processed. Why was I afraid? Was he going to disapprove, god was this like with Matt all over again? “Is that okay?”

            “Okay?” His eyes lit up so bright. “That’s amazing.”

He lifted me up, spinning me around in his arms. I held on tightly, afraid to fall, even though Jamie would never let me fall. He placed me down in front of him, gripping my waist.

            “How fucking amazing is it that we’ll be the two best players in our leagues,” He mused, grinning widely. “Who you going to play for? I ‘spose Arsenal’s the closest for the women’s or Reading but you can do better than Reading.”

            “You’re assuming I’ll get to pick!” I laughed.

He made a pursed his lips and shrugged. “Obviously, they’ll all be after you, won’t they.”

            “Well, uh, the thing is, actually,” I looked down, playing with the hem of his shirt to distract myself. “That’s what I was talking to Keely about. I’m gonna convince Rebecca to start a women’s team at Richmond.”

Again, Jamie processed. Then he lifted me up again, twirling me around, cackling like mad.

            “You’re brilliant, you are, you know that?” He kisses me then, passionately in a way I’d never felt before. My breath gets pushed out of me as my hands flail to hold on to him. He kisses me again, slowly, before pulling back. “I love you.”

I look at him, wide-eyed, panting. “I love you, too.”

He smiled at me smugly, knowing exactly the effect he was having on me. He reached down and lifted me up over his shoulder, carrying me off towards the bedroom.

            “Jamie!” I cried happily, banging on his back. “Put me down!”

            “Oh, I’ll put you down,” he sneered, plopping me down onto the mattress. He crawled over my body, anticipation growing with in me as I propped myself up onto my elbows. He took his time reaching me, his lips ghosting over my skin. Up my chest, my neck, until they hovered over my lips, just out of reach of mine. “My girl…”

He kissed my cheek, nose nudging mine like he liked to do. I tried to press up and kiss him, but he pulled back, what a tease.

            “Jamie,” I frowned, whining. I pulled on his shirt, trying to pull him closer to me.

            “Hold on, sweetheart,” he murmured, pushing me down so I was flat on the bed. “I just wanna look at ya.” His hand travelled down my body before coming back up to rest on my cheek, stroking my skin with his thumb. “You’re amazing.”

I felt so soft under his praise, under his touch as he admired me. But it wasn’t just my body he was admiring it, it was me. All of me. And when he finally kissed me, it felt like the sun was filling my body with its warmth.

The day of the final game came, West Ham, again.  This time under George Cartwick, the bastard. But I didn’t feel more normal anxiety about such an important game. Yeah, this game could solidify our ranking within the league, but I didn’t feel too worried. Win or lose, we’d shown the whole country exactly what we could do.

I carried the box from Zava in my grasp, using my legs to readjust my grip as I waved to Laughing Liam.

            “Hello, lads,” I greeted as I walked into the locker room. The room erupted in a choral of hellos and greetings.

            “What’ve you got there?” Colin asked, coming over to help me set the box down.

I dusted my hands off, starting to open it up. “It’s a care package from, Zava.”

The locker room groaned, and I smirked, sneaking a glance at Jamie who seemed quite pleased with the response.

            No,” Dani spoke up from behind me, quite firm. “Thank you, but no. I will not let him hurt me again.”

            “Ooh, it’s t-shirts!” Will smiled, reaching across me to get one.

            “Can I have two, please?” Dani decided.

I shook my head, moving away from the box to reach out for Jamie. He pulled me towards him, chuckling at the antics, wrapping his arms around me to pull my back against his chest, my hands crossing in front of my body as I held onto him.

            “Oh, oh!” Colin exclaimed. “There’s a card.” He reached in and grabbed a card out of it. “’My brothers.’” The boys laughed. “’Good luck against West Ham. Please enjoy the T-shirts and this avocado from my farm. Never forget, I am always inside you, Zava.’”

            “What, he sent us one avocado?” Jamie questioned, his lips right by my ear.

Bumbercatch lifted the avocado from box and held it up so we could all see it. It was giant. I felt Jamie freeze in surprise.

            “Holeh guacamoleh,” he shuttered out. “Show me that, bro.”

He let go of me to grab the avocado, staring at it in awe. I laughed, shaking my head.

The beginning of the game was a little rocky, probably due to the video that Beard had made, sending the whole team into a sobbing frenzy. The first half quarter was a stalemate, but Jamie was keeping them on their toes, controlling the field with his excellent strategic passes. Nevertheless, Westham managed to score, twice before the half.

The boys were buzzing during the half, talking and strategizing with one another. It was a stark difference from the team I started with. That team would be silent, brooding, angry about what was going wrong. But this team still had hope, they still had believe.

Ted emerged from his den to address the team.

            “Well, fellas, we got our work cut out for us in the second half. But you know, I’ll get to all that in a minute.” I went over to my spot next to Roy, crossing my arms as I looked over the group.

“No, uh, right now, all I wanna do is let you gentlemen know what an absolute honor it's been to be your coach. Getting to work with y'all these last three years has truly been one of the greatest experiences of my life. I've loved getting to know each and every single one of you. Learning all about the men you were and getting a front-row seat to see the men… and women you all have become “

He looked over at me and I nodded, swallowing a thick ball of sadness in my throat.

“A-And I wanna thank you for your patience with me. You know, when I showed up here, I didn't know one thing about soccer. But now... Well, now I know at least one thing about football.”

We let out a chuckle, though it was well watery I could tell. He continued.

“I'm just so gosh damn proud to be a part of this team. You know? And I love you guys. I'm gonna miss y'all." My heart swelled. I didn't want to say goodbye. I swiped at a tear that had escaped my eyes.

"Now, regarding this second half... Yeah, I don't know what's gonna happen. You know what I mean? No one does. Sports would be a lot less fun if we did. You know? And you all would probably make a lot less money, so... You know?  We don't wanna know the future. No, no, we wanna be here right now. And look, I-I know we're down a couple goals. But I'm telling you, man, if y'all play hard, play smart, play together and just, you know... Just do what y'all do, and we'll go out with the peace of mind knowing we did our best. That we tried. Yeah?”

            “Yes, coach.”

            “Hm. All right. Anybody else have something to say?”

            “Coach.” Sam spoke up.

            “Yeah, Sam, what you got?”

Sam stood up and grabbed something from his locker, pulling out a small piece of yellow paper. Then Jamie stood up, pulling out a book from his locker that had a similar yellow piece of paper sticking out of it. Soon the whole team was grabbing things from their lockers and pulling out their own yellow pieces.

I sighed and reached into my pocket and found my wallet. I had a polaroid of Jamie and I, sitting at Sam’s restaurant, and taped on the back was my own piece of yellow paper. I held it up and walked over to where the boys were placing their pieces.

Soon there was a clutter of pieces all mixed up. The boys stared at it a second, wondering what was wrong with it. Then they moved into action, putting it back together like a puzzle. I smiled at Roy who shook his head and chuckled.

Finally, the sign was back together. The torn up believe sign put back together by the team that made it a reality. I’d missed the sign. Missed it more than I knew.

            “And there it is,” Ted mused, smiling at it. “Number four. Yeah?”

The fourth rule of total football. Believe. Believing in this team and the people in it. Believing in change and love and friendship. Believing in the fact that victory was within our grasp. Believe was filling this room. Starting from when Ted first stepped foot in the locker, infecting the place with his positivity. Now the room, and the whole stadium was filled with it, so even when he was gone, we’d keep it going. Believe.

            “Alright, let’s bring it in.”

We walked in together, Jamie standing right behind me so he could keep one hand on my hip while the other went in for the huddle.

            “I know they folks like to say, ‘there’s no place like home,’” Ted looked around the circle, at our team. “That’s true. You know. But man, there ain’t a whole lot of places like AFC Richmond either.” I let out a shaky laugh, the team following in suit. He addressed Isaac. “Richmond on three. One, two, three…”

            “RICHMOND.”

The second half feels more electric than before. More shots on the goal, with only one getting in from Jamie. The stadium erupted in cheers as Jamie scored, giving the crowd a shred of hope for Richmond’s chances.

Jamie gets in again losing his mark and heading for a second goal when he’s tackled. It’s a weak tackle and Jamie certainly played it up but it got us our penalty.

            “That’s it,” I muttered, nodding at Ted.

It took a second, Jamie passing the ball over to Dani who then passed it to… Isaac.

            “Oh, what the fuck,” I grunted, rolling my eyes. I loved Isaac, I really did, but I was certain he’d never even made a penalty before.

Isaac went for the shot, and it flew into the stands, causing a groan to go across the field. It wasn’t the end of the world but equalizing certainly would have been helpful. But then the referee went back to look at the net before turning around and signaling a goal.

I laughed and let out a cheer, patting Roy’s shoulder.

            “Who fucking knew,” I gaped.

            “Apparently, Dani,” Roy answered.

This wasn’t the end; we still had another goal to get but victory was just in reach. The game came to a halt as the grounds crew came out to fix the goal. Jamie jogged over to me, an excited look on his face.

            “How mint was that, eh, babe?” He asked, excitedly.

I shook my head handing him a water bottle.  “You could have made that easily.”

            “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” He grinned, downing the water.

As he did, I noticed Rupert on the field. Yes, Rupert Manion, as in the owner of West Ham, walking on the field like a villain from a Bond movie.

            “What the hell is he doing here?” Jamie snorted, watching the man.

            “Don’t know…” I murmured back. “But I’m going to find out, cover for me?”

Jamie nodded at me, turning back to the coaches, as I tried to wander over inconspicuously I made it seem like I was going to fill up my water bottle, trying to get within ear shot of whatever conversation they were having.

            “Tartt is out there doing whatever he fucking wants.” Rupert growled.

Oh. I see.

            “Yeah, but I’ve got two players on him already,” Cartwick responded. He looked terrified, and Rupert pressed further.

            “Take him out.” I stiffened, looking that way, as subtly as possible. No way he was implying what I thought he was.

            “Are you joking?” Cartwick retorted.

I looked back towards Jamie. If anyone got near him, I would kill them. I’d kill them with my bare hands.

            “Get rid of him.”

I was gripping the water bottle in my hand so tight I thought it would break. Water started overflowing, getting my arm wet but I couldn’t move. I thought that if I did I would go over and punch Rupert right across his stupid face.

            “I’m not playing the game like that,” George finally being a good person for once in his useless life.

            “You do what I say, or you are done,” Rupert threatened.

George started to reply when there was a thump that sounded, and I looked over finally. Rupert had pushed George to the ground, sending him flying and, unfortunately, revealing both of his testicles.

I flinched away, finally walking back over to our side. Jamie collected me, pulling me away from Rupert, even though we were already far enough.

            “What a fucking wanker,” he grumbled.

The crowd seemed to agree as Rupert started to walk off the field, shouting it at him over and over. Part of me felt bad for him- oh wait no it didn’t. He’d threatened Jamie Tartt. The love of my life, and I thought he deserved a lot worse than a bad name.

            “Everything alright?” Jamie seemed to notice my tense mood.

I looked back over at him, shaking my head. “Yeah, fine, just go out and smash it, yeah? Watch your left kick, you’re holding back.”

            “Heard,” he nodded, agreeing. “Anything else?”

            “Oh, yeah,” I imitated thinking. “I love you, and when you win, we’re gonna have banger sex tonight.”

He grinned wickedly at me. “Now that sounds like a plan?”

I could tell he wanted to kiss me, but we weren’t exactly public yet. Keeley said it would probably be a bad idea, might look bad for a coach to be dating their player. We weren’t a secret exactly either, but just private.

            “Go,” I pressed, pushing him away from me. He nodded, sending me a look that I could read. I love you, you’re amazing, thank you. I chewed my lip and nodded at him as well. I love you, too, go smash it.

The Hammers got control of the ball quickly and it seemed like they’d scored a pull-ahead goal but, as Ted pointed out, they had been offsides. That had been close, too close. We needed something. Jamie was trying to keep up his role as engineer, but he had been completely boxed in.

            “Okay. Come on. Talk to me, geese,” Ted brought is in.

We needed something they wouldn’t expect right now. Beard and Roy rattled off some plays, but I closed my eyes trying to picture the field, what I would be looking for. Jamie was who everyone was expecting to make a play, so we had to use him somehow, maybe as… as a fucking decoy.

 I opened my eyes and saw Ted looking at me. I could tell he’d just made the same connection I had.

            “Do you think it’ll work?” He asked me, cocking his head.

            “Definitely,” I stated, nodding firmly.

            “Alright, hold on,” he called over to Nate, getting him to come over to us before calling out to the boys. “Here hold this.” He mimed handing something to Nate, who took the invisible object. “IT’S AN OSCAR!” He shouted to the boys, giving Nate some instruction on how to hold it. “OR THE ESPY”

That seemed to resonate with the boys as they nodded finally, discussing amongst themselves.  They started off, Sam passing the ball to Dixon. Jamie sprinted into the box shouting wildly.

            “YEAH, YEAH! PASS ME THE BALL! ME, ME, ME! I WANT THE PALL! PASS ME THE BALL, PLEASE!”

I couldn’t help but let out a laugh. He really was selling it and it seemed to be working. There must have been four guys marking him. But Sam was left open and Dixon took his chance, passing him the ball. Then it happened, Sam took the shot.

            “Barbecue sauce.”

The ball soared into the goal, and we’d done it. The game ended shortly after. We’d won. Everything moved in slow motion, the cheer of the crowd, the jumping and celebrations, the ground shaking with excitement.

But I was just looking of one person. Jamie. I needed Jamie. And we locked eyes. His grey eyes stormy with excitement. I felt myself moving towards him, rushing onto the field to get to get to him as quick as I could. I jumped and he caught my in his arms, spinning me around, my legs flying behind me.

I took his face and kissed him. Right there. In front of everyone. I didn’t care anymore, I wasn’t his coach, I wasn’t anyone’s coach. And right now, Jamie Tartt needed a kissing. He stood there on the pitch, practically eating each other’s faces off until I remembered where we were and pulled away. He followed me, letting out a whine.

            “Not now,” I muttered to him, giggling. “Now we celebrate with them. But later…” I walked my fingers down his chest.

He grabbed my hand, tsking his tongue. “Don’t do that, love. Or I might just have to take you away right now.”

I shivered, tempted to let him do so. But then I looked over and saw Colin kissing his boyfriend, I saw Isaac and Sam hugging, I saw Ted starting to gain a crowd, probably ramping up to do something cheesy.

            “Let’s go celebrate, babe,” I said, taking his hand in mine.

We ran over to the group to watch Ted do his victory dance. We celebrated. We were on top of the world. That’s how I like to remember that time. The whole team together. All of us. I could see into the future. I could see Ted leaving, and that would be sad.

But I could also see Keeley and I giving Rebecca the plans for the AFC Richmond Women’s team. I could see Jamie and I going to Brazil together and Keeley and Roy joining us after the shoot was done. I could see Jamie reconnecting with his father, showing him exactly the man he’d become without him. I could see Roy and Nate running the team together brilliantly. I could see us, months from now, having dinner at Higgin’s house. The whole team, kids running in the yard, chatting with Roy and Keeley, laughing with Colin and Michael.

I could see happiness. A happiness that I didn’t have three years ago that I had now. A happiness that had been…

A Long Time Coming.

Taglist: @heletsmelovehim @higherthanheroes @ajax-petropolus-wife @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @optimisticsandwichgladiator @kno-way-home @sleepy-time @wigglegiggle @skewedcherries @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @snubug @rana030 @ems-alexandra @jaymum @imfalling-inlove @littleesilvia @eugene-emt-roe

END NOTE: If you've made it this far, thank you. When Ted Lasso ended, I wasn't ready to say goodbye. I still had the characters and stories rattling around in my head. So I decided to write this, just to get it out of my head, as an OFC Fic on AO3 (That's being updated as well if you're interested in meeting my OC).

Coming to Tumblr was inspired by a number of writers. Specifically three people who I now am mutuals with and even would call my friends. @illiterateaffairs @its-time-to-write, @alwritey-aphrodite, and @sokkigarden. Each of them inspired my in their beautiful understanding of Jamie's character, their individual styles and personalities, all of them inspired me and encouraged me to continue my writing. They are truly such talents, and I respect them each individually very greatly.

Finally, I have to thank every single person who has liked, commented, reblogged, or even just scrolled through a chapter. every comment, I read, every reblog, I read. They all mean the world to me, and I know I say that a lot but I really mean it. I didn't expect this series to get any traction much less get me nearly 400 followers. You guys kept me going.

Thank you for reading. From me and Jamie <3

[a-random-whovian7]

What your favourite Doctor says about you (just like the Master and Companion lists, this is all just jokes and my own terrible takes, absolutely no offence intended towards anyone). This is gonna be a long one, so good luck:

One (I think):

Is somehow able to sit through The Keys of Marinus whilst completely sober. Their feelings on Twice Upon a Time completely depend on whether they are able to accept that TV shows made in the 1960s will inevitably have some outdated bits or not. Loves slow-burners and less science-heavy stories, and wishes the Doctor would go back to trolling his companions again. Prays every night for The Celestial Toymaker and Marco Polo to be found. Hates the Timeless Child with a burning passion.

Two:

Two fans deserve a lot better. Despite a large chunk of their era being limited to surviving audio, PowerPoint presentations telesnaps and the, er, mixed bag of animated reconstructions, they still contribute a lot to the discussion of Classic Who and are usually well versed in the lore of the EU. 2nd Doctor fans are remarkable, as they are able to get along with pretty much every other group of fans. However, there is plenty of infighting thanks to the UNIT dating controversy and which story should be reconstructed next. If they ship Two/Jamie, they have fully earned your love and are surprisingly good if you pass them the aux.

Three:

Pretty much blows a gasket whenever some idiot says that the modern era is 'too political'. Like, I'm sorry, but was the "England for the English" scene in the Claws of Axos a little too subtle for you? Were Malcolm Hulke's scripts absolutely apolitical in your eyes? Does the mere existence of The Green Death mean nothing to you?! Oh, well maybe you should try WATCHING THE SHOW and DOING YOUR RESEARCH before you start claiming that it's become 'tOo pOLiTiCaL' because the main characters aren't always played by Whiteguy McStraight now, shouldn't you?! YOU AND YOUR MEDIOCRE OPINION SHALL COWER BEFORE MY KNOWLEDGE OF THE THIRD DOCTOR'S ERA AND THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN DO TO STOP ME!

It is for this very reason that 3rd Doctor fans get along particularly well with 13th Doctor fans. Perfectly nice people with a great sense of humour and an excellent taste in episodes, unless a conversation resembling the above occurs, at which point you will see how much damage the repressed urge to do Venusian Akido can do. Refuses to admit that The Ambassadors of Death is two episodes too long.

Four:

Either a child of the 70s or chaos incarnate. Yes, 4 is pretty much the universally recognised Doctor, but that doesn't stop him from being one of the most unhinged Doctors. Loves more gothic horror-themed episodes and can ignore the somewhat questionable production qualities of early Baker stories. They have almost certainly attempted to make The Scarf at one point; whether they were successful or not entirely depends on their talent for knitting. Is surprisingly ok with admitting that Tom Baker stayed for a little too long and that his later seasons were a little underwhelming. Hasn't stopped them from watching every version of Shada though.

Five:

The tired parental figure of any group they are in. They immediately related to this Doctor when they saw 5 trying to hold it together whilst his multiple adopted humans argued, whined and got themselves trapped on doomed freighter ships. Has tried to play cricket once, but a general confusion over the rules and a few broken windows stopped that. You can take care of the cinnamon roll that is the standard 5 fan by providing them with cups of tea, giving them lots of hugs and removing all copies of Time Flight from your house.

Six:

Best fashion sense out of all the fans... somehow. Their favourite episodes are usually Vengeance on Varos or Revelation of the Daleks (both bangers), although they lean more heavily towards EU and Big Finish material, where the stories are more consistent and the costumes are less yikes. Either the best or worst fan to be around, either giving fair balanced views on the show or just being an absolute arse. Loves cats. Hates Michael Grade. Kind of ambivalent towards Mel.

Seven:

If 2nd Doctor fans are well versed in the EU lore, then these individuals are fucking academics. Constantly annoyed that 7 had two of the best seasons of Classic Who and was the darkest Doctor but is only remembered for Time and the Rani for some reason. Their favourite companion will always be Ace, which is what motivated them to watch Power of the Doctor. Usually excellent taste in stories, but is completely capable of dragging you to the depths of the EU. Wishes the Doctor would commit a few more genocides. Their religious beliefs can be summarised in the phrase "Cartmel Master Plan". Still annoyed that the most strategic Doctor was killed by the two most American things (guns and bad healthcare), but gets along well with 8 fans despite that. Somehow understands Ghost Light after just 3 rewatches.

Eight:

Big Finish fan. Basically willing to explain the entire plot of Dark Eyes if you ask them. Thinks the TV Movie is just OK, and has rewatched Night of the Doctor too many times to count. Loves a sad boy, and has definitely referred to 8 as a "poor little meow meow" at some point. Wishes 8's TARDIS interior was still intact and that he'll get his own live action series. Had an actual heart attack when he appeared in Power of the Doctor. Usually a bisexual from my personal experience, and looking at Paul McGann in the 90s, I can see why.

War (or is it Nine?):

We're stepping into the depths of the Moffat cult with this one. Wants a more traumatised Doctor, and kind of wishes we saw more of the Time War beyond the laser battle in Day of the Doctor. Content to sit back and watch due to the fact that the War Doctor had the perfect arc in his one episode, although they are happy that the War Doctor still pops up in the EU. Bridging the gap between the modern and classic series means they get along well with everyone except Shalka fans.

Nine (the Curse of Fatal Death one):

Does this one count? Just loves the classic series. Still praying for Joanna Lumley as the Doctor. Nowhere near as obnoxious as the Shalka fans and surprisingly funny.

Nine (the Scream of the Shalka one):

They pride themselves on being 'against the trend' and being fans of an overlooked bit of Doctor Who history. Doesn't quite realise that Scream of the Shalka was basically an B-tier Big Finish story with janky animation. Wants Richard E Grant to show up again. Constantly attempting to upset Eccleston and Hurt fans, only to get angry when everyone forgets Scream of the Shalka existed. They definitely listen to Weezer.

Ten, no, another Nine (the Eccleston one):

The word "fantastic" is permanently superglued to their vocabulary, and yet it never gets old. Owns a leather jacket too. Wishes that the BBC hadn't been stupid and Eccleston had stayed on for another series, but doesn't hold it against Tennant. Knows the Daleks were at their best in S1. Really wants the Reapers to return, and was utterly distraught after Chibs kind of ruined 9's role in the wider arc by blowing up Gallifrey again. Major nostalgia for the 2000s with this one, and is slowly becoming a member of the Big Finish cult thanks to Eccleston's return. Understandably forgot Adam was a thing. Both loves and hates John Barrowman.

Ten? Eleven? Ten and a half? The Tennant one. I hate numbers:

Their first experience to Doctor Who was during the golden age- wait, no, sorry, the RTD cult has threatened to terminate my membership if I'm not honest with this one.

Either a child of the 2000s, a member of the aforementioned RTD cult or someone who just likes the show to be more emotionally resonant. Well, that or they are the blandest person alive. If they acknowledge how good 10's arc was in terms of deconstructing the Doctor and setting up his fall from grace via misplaced attachments and vanity, then absolutely someone to be around. If they simply say "because he was popular", definitely bland. We all know Tennant was popular, it's still not one of the many valid reasons to love him. They have an easygoing relationship with 4 and 11 fans, and otherwise OK relations with the rest of Doctors fan groups, although there is a bit of friction between 13 stans due to 10 being dragged into a lot of 13's media post-2020 to boost ratings. They didn't like it because it cheapned 10's return and era whilst also overshadowing 13. 13 stans didn't like it because it basically gave the message that the BBC had given up on 13 before her era had finished.

Definitely excited for the 60th after the regeneration and the announcement of RTD's return. Has tried owning a pair of converses, only to find out that they aren't exactly cheap. Has fought for the Ten/Rose ship on multiple occasions. Tried hair gel once, with disastrous consequences.

Huh. This one was incredibly easy to write. All I had to do was look in a mirror.

Thirte- no, Eleven:

Major ADHD energy in the best possible way. Saw the chaotic excitable Doctor and immediately fell in love. They will not rest until they have forced every former Doctor to read the "Hello Stonehenge" speech. They have also cosplayed the most out of any fan, due to the availability of fezzes and bow ties. Definitely the most fun to be around at a party. Was disappointed by Matt Smith's decision not to return for the 60th, especially after the absolute banger that was Day of the Doctor. If they ship 11 with River, they're cool, even though 11 was very asexual in S5. If they ship him with anyone else, then yikes. Wishes for the show to return to a quirky fairytale tone again.

If they were present during the SuperWhoLock days, keep an eye on them. You're only one drink away from dragging us back to 2013, and I ain't reading any of that fanfiction again *shudders*.

Fourte- FUCK, Twelve:

A certified member of the Steven Moffat cult, or just someone who likes some of their stories to have a slightly more mature tone. Has tried to play the electric guitar more than once, only to be forced to stop by their partners or housemates. Either willing to admit some of the flaws of the era or strongly defends it, with no inbetween. Absolutely correct in their assertion that S9 and 10 absolutely slapped, although this cam be undermined if they try to defend Sleep No More. If they ship River and 12, then you can trust them with anything, and they will offer you good relationship advice. If they ship 12 and Clara in a romantic way (which is strange to me cos i always got platonic BFF vibes from them, but that's just me), they definitely have relationship advice, although waiting 4 billion years to get your memory wiped is a questionable means of resolving conflict. They have a pair of the sonic sunglasses. Cried when Capaldis majestic floofy hair got shaved off for a superhero film.

Thirteen? That's right? Phew, finally getting the hang of this. Ok, Thirteen:

There are two types of 13 fan. The first is cinnamoniest of rolls. Is just happy to sit back and have fun, thus allowing them to enjoy pretty much any episode (something that a lot of people could learn from). Immediately realised that Jodie is an amazing Doctor and deserves more praise and justice. Definitely shipped Thasmin, and are the best at constructive criticism, recognising what worked and didn't in a respectful, polite way (again, something we could all learn from). Wierdly enough, they get along well with all the Doctor fans, as they are a wholesome ray of sunshine that reminds us that every era has something to offer, no matter the general consensus.

The second type masquerades as the first, but gets all hipster-y and more than willing to use the term 'overrated' when RTD or Tennant are mentioned (so basically a healthy 80% of the #antiRTD tag).

Both are convinced that the Chibnall Era will receive a massive reappraisal like the 12th Doctor's era did, despite the odds of that happening being the same as an on-screen Thasmin kiss. I'm so sorry, that's a really mean line to end this bit on. Let's instead end by saying Haunting of Villa Diodati is an absolute banger of an episode.

Ruth:

Loves the admittedly cool concept of a mystery incarnation. The rest depends on their theory of where the Ruth Doctor fits in. If they use the season 6B theory, then they have an encyclopedic knowledge of the classical series and the EU regardless of whether they have watched it or not. If they use the Timeless Child/Division theory, then they basically settled for the easier version of 6B after looking into the insane asylum that is classic who and EU discourse (wise choice). If they think she's from an alternative universe, thinks that she's Omega, Rassilon, The Rani, The Master or any other figure, then they practically have a gold medal in Mental Gymnastics. Either way, all of them don't like to admit that they are unfortunately limited to 4 episodes (three of them being fairly mid, the other being a mild car crash) and a pretty good comic. Cool fashion taste. Gets along with 13 stans and, surprisingly, 2nd Doctor fans.

Fourteen- oh for fucks sake:

YOU ARE TENTH DOCTOR FANS. GO BACK TO EARLIER ON IN THE POST. YES, I KNOW THAT'S THE BBC'S OFFICIAL LINE AT THE MOMENT. YES, I KNOW YOU'RE HYPED FOR THE 60TH, I AM A HYPED RTD CULTIST TOO. JUST WAIT UNTIL SEPTEMBER. P L E A S E.

Fourt- no fifteen- no, fourteen- BBC, HAVE MERCY:

Only in the Doctor Who fandom can a Doctor who has only appeared in a brief clip and some photos have a fully developed fanbase. I should know, I've already joined it. Ncuti's photos in that suit sealed the deal. Either an RTD cultist or someone just looking forward to a fresh new direction. Also very fashionable. Has a somewhat complicated relationship with 13th Doctor fans due to the fact that Ncuti's first season and casting completely overshadowed S13 and the specials, but Ncuti also had to deal with the same levels of toxicity from the same 'fans' who threw temper tantrums at Jodie's casting in 2017. Best haircuts out of all the Doctor Who fans. Strange but true.

Full Fathom Five:

Y'all scare me.

Zagreus:

Y'all terrify me.

The Watcher:

Y'all confuse me.

The Valeyard:

Has wanted a darker series since god knows when. Was kind of annoyed when the Time Lord Victorious arc wasn't dedicated to a whole series. Also, the Valeyard is the Shadow the Hedgehog of the Whoniverse. I refuse to elaborate any further.

The Curator:

"Alright gang, let's see who the Curator fans really are!"

Pulls off mask

"Fourth Doctor fans?!"

All jokes aside, they just want a more experienced Doctor. Accepts that the show will have to end one day, and is cool with that, since they already have the perfect ending. Either cool grandad vibes or an actual grandad. Good knitwear. Their response to everything is simply putting the kettle on.

Doctor Moon:

Now these ones are very, very rare. I personally love the theory that Doctor Moon is a future version of the Doctor who is keeping River and the Library safe, but limiting your favourite Doctor to two episodes and an endorsement of the theory from Steven Moffat? Now that takes guts, and I like it. Usually partial to classy clothes, and talks in a very formal tone. Their best subject is usually maths.

Dr Who (Peter Cushing):

Unashamedly insane. Saw the absolutely glorious cheese-fest that was the 1960s Dalek movies and ended up loving one of the most unique versions of the Doctor. Is absolutely fine with bypassing 90% of the TV shows lore, making them really fun to talk to. Time Lords? Nah. Sonic screwdriver? Nope. Their Doctor is a wacky grandpa who built a multi-dimensional time machine in their back garden, and they love it. Is a sucker for Alternate Universe stories and usually loves classic B-movies. Knows that the movies kind of suck as adaptations, but as pure 1960s camp, they are unbeatable. Absolute legends.

All of Them:

The glue that holds this fanbase together. Enlightened individuals who have to check in every now and then to make sure that we mere mortals are behaving ourselves. They just simply enjoy the show and hold no biases. Absolutely infuriating to talk to for that very reason.

[cosmic-chelonian]

Thinking about what it must be like being the Doctor's companion.

Like, one moment you're just you, some random girl from some random town, the next you step into this box and suddenly your whole view of the universe, of what's possible, of your place in it, is blown to pieces as you step inside the box of impossibilities. And life suddenly becomes an adventure. And he's there to show you it all. You don't quite understand it all, and sometimes it keeps you up at night, but it's ok, because he does, and he's there to guide you. You go through horrors that you'd previously never imagined, but it's ok. He always saves you in the end, even if it feels every time like this time this is it, this is your death. And he shows you such wonders that somehow, you don't really mind. It's onto the next thing, and the next. He doesn't leave you time to worry.

And you've met this man, this wonderful man, who always does the right thing and, most of the time, actually manages to save the day. And though he is arrogant, and strange, and sometimes rude to the point of being mean, he does so much good, so he must be a good man, right? He's so great and so kind and so... so good! So you fall in love with him, in a fashion - how could you not? - because he makes you good and kind and important too. How could you not love a man who saves the world?

The greatest thing, though, is this: you're the one he chose to have beside him. You have your part, however small, to play in this big story of the struggle of light against darkness. Everyone is special, he tells you. And you believe him. He introduces you as his best friend. You! Although he is so much more than you, though his mind can understand things yours never could, though he is stronger and smarter and, well, better than you, he chose YOU. Just you and him, together in the blue box, travelling and saving the world. Maybe you are special.

And then one day you're standing on the kerbside, clutching your things, watching that box grow fainter and fainter, and then it's gone. As if by magic, it's gone, and so the magic has gone too. There's nobody here to save you now, just yourself. No zany devices with fancy names, no brilliant schemes, no way to zip around the universe at the flick of a switch. You're horribly grounded in this place, in your old reality. But it's not the same, because you KNOW the magic was real.

He left you. You forgot that 'best friend' and 'best friend forever' aren't the same thing. When you were with him, you ignored that flicker of annoyance when you asked too many questions, when you fell in a trap or said the wrong thing. Because he chose you, right? You must be necessary, somehow. He needed a friend. You thought he needed YOU. When he mentioned Jamie, or Susan, or anyone else who used to travel with him, you didn't think to ask why it was 'used to'. They must have just left of their own accord, right? But YOU would never do that. You could never leave this life behind, leave this man. You thought you were different. And now it's dawning on you that you are just the same as them all.

'Everyone is special'. Suddenly that doesn't feel so comforting anymore. If everyone is special, then nobody really is. How could you ever think you were the exception?

He left you. And yet you can't let yourself be angry, not really. Because you don't blame him. You always knew he could never be with you forever, and it's not his fault. He has lived for centuries. You are to him what a particularly beloved pet dog is to a human: important, family even, during its lifetime, but only there for a small part of the owner's life. You were his faithful companion, he was your everything. But he has to move on. He's done it before, he will again. And he wouldn't want to get too attached, anyway. He couldn't let someone be that special. Because what he truly loves is his purpose. Who are you to get in the way of that? What could be more important than that he might continue his almost sacred journey, this man who brings hope and life wherever he goes?

How could you be angry at the man who gave you everything? Who showed you worlds you could never have conceived of in your wildest dreams, let alone seen with your own eyes? The truth is, however much it hurts now, you'd do it again in a heartbeat. The tears still sting in your eyes, though, and you feel sort of ashamed as you wipe them away.

And so you try to move on too - you have to, what choice is there? - but it's not your old life. You couldn't go back. In whatever way you can, you give your soul to doing good. You raise money, make a difference. Because this is the only way you can feel anything close to what you felt with him. And for a bit you work with UNIT, or at least meet up with others who have had the blessing and misfortune to have been swept up in the Doctor's path too. You sit around and swap stories, taking comfort in the fact that you see the same sadness behind their eyes, the same wistfulness in their smiles as their eyes glaze over for a second and you know they're back in that console room for a moment, sharing a victorious grin with whatever face he wore when they loved him, saving some planet or solving some mystery.

He always said he'd visit. You knew even then that it wouldn't happen often, or maybe ever. Even if he wanted to he wouldn't. It wouldn't occur to him, when there was another vista out there to be admired, another song to hear, another life to save. But one day, he does visit. He's not just here for you, of course - he's here to visit UNIT, he's noticed some new alien threat - but you see him again. It's a different man, or so it seems, but you know it's him behind those eyes. He meets your gaze with that same old warmth, just like it was yesterday. For him, it probably feels like it was. And then after a second he turns away with a flourish, giving some new orders or executing the next step of some brilliant scheme, dashing about the place like a madman. And you have no choice but to dash around after him, clinging onto those precious seconds of nostalgia despite the acute awareness that soon enough he'd be off again, and that wooshing noise as the TARDIS fades would signal once again your return to normality.

And there's the new girl who follows him into that blue box. As she turns around to wave goodbye, you feel a sudden urge to cry out for her to wait, to warn her of what this terrible, wonderful man would do to her. But the cry dies in your throat. Something inside you knows you should let her go, let her make the same mistakes. Because it's all worth it. He blew your mind and you let him.

[thedeafprophet]

2, 16, 17 for the trio

2. How long was the process before the character reached its final version? (or a version that would be clearly recognizable as the character?)

let me find that design variations comparison post I made awhile back....

by the second iteration I was pretty solid on the trios designs. I've refined them as I've gotten better at art, both physically and creatively.

in terms of story though? hm.

at a base concept, the three have always been as they are now. even only recently refined story concepts, like Jamie and the princess, always had a vague inkling even back in my intentional forethought.

there are brief things of course. ie. Alex wasn't a silverer till awhile after I finished light fingers, Josephine originally did private detective stuff before I got into the laboratory aspects with her, Jamie wasn't poet laureate until after I did that whole grind, and those are all big aspects of their characters.

I don't think any of my characters are there 'final' version. my ocs are constantly in flux, and some things may change in the coming years. but I think that essence of *who* the character is has always been there, and always been recognizable. but who they *will* be is always up in the air.

16. Is there any memes or running jokes associated with the character, both in- and out of universe?

"Sometimes he goes places"

[that's all that comes to mind with Alex ajdkfgkhkh. If anyone remembers any running jokes for these three, remind me XD]

17. Are there any motifs or symbols associated with the character? How are they represented, in their design, personality or in some other way?

Josephine

clocks, broken glass, mirrors, owls, eclipse, darkness...

Alex

light, flame, matches, black cat, soot,

Jamie

birds, cages, strawberries, theater, quills, ink, flowers and petals

I tend to incorporate these motifs and facets into character design and story facets a lot. Ie. the bird motif is a constant through jamies story, the clock imagery a noted aspect of Josephine's imagery and a analogy for her anxiety disorder, Alex and his long running theme with flame.

honestly I feel like I tend to use motifs the most in Josie's concepts. especially the clock. don't think on that one too much

ask game from here

[alwritey-aphrodite]

That’s My Whole World

Chapter 8 of There’s Nothing Like This

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x fem!footballer!reader

Warnings: angst, discussions of injury, vague depression thoughts

Word Count: 2.7k

Author’s Note: here she is, the final chapter!! Thank you for all the love on this series, and I’d be happy to write an epilogue or any other little drabbles anyone would like to request <3

Life doesn’t change in any dramatic way after you kiss Jamie. Really, it’s a little shocking how normal everything is. The two of you still spend almost every night together, parked on one of your couches in front of the TV while snacking or eating dinner, and the only difference is that now, you sit closer and you cuddle and you kiss him goodbye. Otherwise, everything’s the same as it has been.

Training is even more grueling than usual with your final game of the season against Arsenal on Saturday. If you lose this game, you come in second and everything you worked for this season would mean nothing. Even though coming in second place your first year in the league is astounding, you need to win, need to prove to everyone that you’re able to play with the big dogs, that you’re just as worthy of praise as the men.

Most nights when you come home, your mind and your body ache, sore all over and running in circles creating every possible scenario for Saturday. Jamie, though, has always been there when you’ve gotten home, no matter how late it was, and he always had warm food and would let you cry and rant and complain to him as long as you’d like.

Even though the end of the men’s season is right around the corner as well, there’s essentially no plausible way for them to lose, as they’ve been on top for the entire season, with even Man City trailing quite a few points behind. Your team, though, has been neck and neck with Arsenal for the entirety of the season, with the two of you switching between first and second place practically every week.

For now, though, you’re winning, and you’d like to keep it that way.

Jamie, despite his own stress about the upcoming end of the season, has never been anything but wonderful and reassuring, spending hours telling you that you have nothing to worry about and gently scolding you for working so hard and putting so much stress on yourself. It’s difficult to balance your intensity during training, and even though you know you need to be in the best shape possible with working muscles when Saturday rolls around, you also know you need to push yourself in training to get yourself to be as great as you know you can be.

Most evenings are spent with you icing your feet and your ankles and sometimes your knees, with Jamie gently rubbing the tension out of your shoulders. He never says it, but you know he thinks you’re pushing yourself too hard, but you can’t stop now. You’ve made it this far, what’s the point in slowing down when you’re so close to the top?

When Saturday morning rolls around, you’re sore and more anxious than you’ve ever been, feeling nauseous and unable to eat. Still, you manage to choke down some food because you know you need to eat, know that if you skip breakfast you’ll just feel worse when you get to Nelson Road. You take a steaming hot shower in the hopes of relaxing your muscles as much as possible, and by the time you’ve dried off and packed your bag, Mackie’s waiting in your driveway.

Silently thanking the universe for her perfect timing, you climb into the passenger’s seat to be greeted by the playlist you had made years ago to hype yourself up before your first game on the national team, even though you both sat on the bench the entire time. Just hearing the songs, remembering how far you’ve come, was enough to momentarily replace your ceaseless anxiety with pure joy, allowing you to simply enjoy a car ride with your best friend and turn off your worrying mind for a few minutes.

Pulling up to the Dog Track, though, it all comes rushing back and you’re an anxious mess, walking on autopilot to the dressing room and trying to ignore all the reports that call out to you in the parking lot. Inside, it’s noisy and bustling, the players and coaches scurrying through the dressing room with Keeley and Rebecca popping in every few minutes to “check on the state of everyone”.

All in all, it serves to make you more jittery, but it’s reassuring to know that everyone’s feeling much the same as you are. Changing into your kit, you take a moment to thank the universe for everything that’s happened to you, the good and the bad, because without that injury, you might not be here with a Richmond on your chest and a 9 on your back.

As Elena fixes your hair, making sure it’s slick and secure the same way she always does, the coaches stand at the front of the room with Keeley and Rebecca, clearly getting ready for their pregame speech. Instead of one of the coaches, though, Keeley steps forward.

“I just wanted to thank you guys for everything, for your hard work and dedication and positivity, even when it wasn’t easy,” she smiles at you, even though her eyes shimmer with tears, “and whatever happens out there, I’m proud of you.”

The room erupts into murmurs of agreement, shouting out your love for Keeley as she steps back by Rebecca, who wraps an arm around her shoulder and squeezes gently.

“Let’s go fucking crush them!” Roy adds, and the room explodes into noise, the team huddling up for the final time of the season.

Heading out onto the pitch, it’s shockingly loud and the stands are completely full, but they’re full of Richmond blue and red. Near the pitch you recognize the three men from the pub, all decked out in Richmond gear, even with their faces painted. It’s not hard to find the men’s team, either, who are all covered in Richmond swag as well, and you try not to grin when Jamie blows you a kiss. Mackie notices, and blows one back to him.

The energy is electric, and for the first time all day, you’re thinking that maybe you can win this.

In the final few minutes of the game, your hard work and hope are so close to being paid off, with a two-two tie and a clear path to the goal, you make a break for it, receiving a perfect pass from Mackie and closing in on the undefended goal when suddenly everything stops. You can’t see, you can’t breathe, and all you can hear is the ringing in your ears.

There are hands all around you, touching and prodding and supporting your head, and it’s not until someone reaches out for your right ankle that your body explodes in pain. It all comes back to you, the vicious tackle from an unseen defender that sent you flying and crashing onto the ground, your entire body weight landing on your bad foot. It feels like the whole foot, your ankle and your leg and your hip have been shattered, and now you’re hyperventilating as the medics rush over, your head placed in Mackie’s lap as she holds you steady.

The crowd is silent, waiting with bated breath to see what happened, to see if you’re alright, but the area around you is full of noise; the clear, direct speech of the medics and the frantic responses of all the players, teammates and rivals alike. Unable to move, unable to sit, unable to breathe, you’re placed on a stretcher and hurried off the field.

Of course it would end like this, in defeat and destruction. You were naive to think anything else would have happened, naive to think you were able to play with the big dogs because all these years later, you’re still just a stupid little girl who can’t stop herself from getting hurt. It doesn’t even hurt anymore, but you can’t tell if that’s from whatever they’ve injected you with or because of the shock and adrenaline coursing through your body.

Instead of taking you to the medic’s room, that warm little room with ice packs and various braces, you’re loaded into an ambulance and taken away from Nelson Road, away from your last chance at doing something great, doing something worth remembering other than getting spectacularly injured.

The last and first thing you see are blindingly bright lights, shining down from on high and you wonder for a second if you’d died, from shame or your injury, until the lights are shut off and your eyes adjust to the bleak hospital room. You’re on your back, foot wrapped like a mummy and elevated above your heart, and everything hurts, your entire body aches and screams in pain, but all you can do is let out a pitiful little moan.

This is your life again, helpless and stuck on your back like a sad classroom turtle, just something to be looked at with varying degrees of pity. You don’t even want to think about how helpless you were last time, how you needed to rely on someone to do everything for you, to cook for you and help you shower and walk you to the bathroom, and even just the thought of being stuck like that again makes bile rise in the back of your throat.

You’re interrupted from your self pity party by a soft knock at the door, and it takes all your effort to turn your head just the slightest bit.

“There are some people who’d like to see you, if you’d be ok with that?” The doctor asks in a gentle voice as if you’re a child. Helpless, helpless, helpless.

“Sure,” you try to say but your lips are cracked and your mouth is dry so you’re not confident any words come out but the doctor understands and leaves to usher someone else inside.

“How’re you feeling?” Mackie asks as she enters the room, and she can’t help but chuckle at the withering look you send her because obviously you’re not doing too great. She’s followed into the room by Elena and Keeley and Rebecca and Roy and Beard and Nate, all of them crowding around your little hospital bed. You can’t help but notice that Jamie isn’t with them, and you hate how it makes your chest ache even more.

“The rest of us are waiting outside,” Elena says, taking in your wandering eyes and knowing just what to say, “they wouldn’t let us all in and we won rock paper scissors.” You think you laugh at that, but you’re not convinced any sound comes out.

“I get to take you home later, take care of you like my little baby,” Mackie says, placing a kiss on your forehead in a rarely tender gesture, “I’m glad you’re alright.”

“Did we win?” You croak, desperate to know the answer while dreading what you might hear.

“3-2,” Roy nods over at Mackie, “this one almost ripped a hole in the net.” You smile at your best friend, despite the resentment and despair that sit deep in your chest. That should’ve been you, scoring a showstopping, game-winning goal, but instead you got a broken foot and endless misery. You want to be happy, but you feel like crying.

You stay that way, for a long, long time. The doctors are unable to determine the scope of your injury, saying that you could be back to playing by the start of next season or you could never play again. You could score the season-winning goal next year or you could never walk normally again. They don’t know, and you refuse to get your hopes up, refuse to think of soccer or the Greyhounds as much as possible.

Mackie, though, is always there, moving herself onto your couch while you wallow in the ground floor guest bedroom, reeking of misery and defeat. The physical pain of your shattered foot is nothing compared to the emptiness in your chest, the disgust you feel over needing someone to take care of you. Mackie doesn’t mind, you know she jumped on the opportunity to be your guardian while you were out, but something painful blooms in your chest every time she brings you food or your meds or asks if you need help getting to the bathroom.

Most of your time is spent crying, the sound of the TV turned up to drown out the noise even though you know Mackie can hear you. You’re just grateful she never says anything, never looks at you with those wide, pitiful eyes and instead she remains her sarcastic, witty self. It’s a nice reminder that not everything has changed, that while your career is most likely over, your life isn’t over.

The Greyhounds come over to visit often, gathering around your bed or sitting on the floor when you’re finally able to make the trip to the living room without gritting your teeth in pain. Rebecca and Keeley send you gifts all the time, pastries and books and snacks you know cost a fortune to ship over from the States, and even the men’s team make sure you know they care, ordering dinner for you or stopping by to chat and vacuum and make sure you’re not going insane with having only Mackie to talk to.

Jamie comes the most, though, relieving Mackie of her babysitting duties as much as he can and as much as you love him, you hate how often he’s around. You hate that he has to see you like this, that he doesn’t mind that you haven’t showered properly in weeks and that you barely brush your hair and that most of the time you’re together, you just sit and cry.

He doesn’t mind at all, though, telling you time and time again that if you want him to leave, he will, but he doesn’t want to go. He’s happy to wipe your tears when you cry and brush out your hair for you, happy to help you to the bathroom or out to your backyard once the weather gets warmer and the doctors say you don’t need to elevate your foot 24/7.

“I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore,” you say for what feels like the thousandth time, voice thick and swiping aggressively at your eyes with the back of your hand.

“You’re gonna play football,” Jamie says, just like he always does, trying his best to be a beacon of light for you.

Even though you tried to believe him before, even though you desperately wanted him to be right before, the start of the season is creeping closer and closer and your foot is still encased in plastic and velcro, you still struggle with walking by yourself and you haven’t even started physical therapy yet. It feels like your heart is physically breaking, but you know you won’t be playing this season.

“Take a season off,” Jamie says, readjusting your position so he can hold you better, “sit on the bench and annoy grandad all year.” You laugh wetly, and you can feel Jamie smiling into your hair, “or maybe you don’t come back and play, but you could coach or find a pundit gig or write books for kids like Leah Williamson.”

“She still plays though,” you counter, knowing you’re being shitty but thinking that maybe in this situation that’s acceptable.

“Your life isn’t over,” he places a kiss to the crown of your head, “we’ll figure it out, yeah?”

And you will. Clearly, with how slowly your foot is healing, you have plenty of time to figure it out, and you know Jamie and Mackie and Elena and all your other friends and teammates will be there with you every step of the way. You could always wait a season, let yourself rest and heal properly, the way you deserve, before stepping back onto the pitch. Or maybe you’ll never step foot on the pitch as a player again, but you could coach or write or do a thousand different jobs that keep you in the soccer world, or you could leave it all behind forever.

Maybe this chapter of your life is over, but a new one’s about to begin and you can’t wait to see what it holds.

Tags: @andr0medafallen @whimsical-roasting @sokkigarden @hopefulromances @buckychristwrites @guccilongboard @onceuponaoneshot @yepyeahuhhuh @allthefandomtherapy @gibby31 @buddyjuststop @ellietartt @cancvr @brianandthemays @sonyume @aiyaiy @yokolesbianism @jamietarttdodo @innocentbi-stander @skewedcherries @neenieweenie

[player1064]

Love your drabbles! I cannot stop reading and sharing them. I have another prompt if you are still taking them! It would be interesting to see Gaz defend his Jamie when he is invited as a special guest to that CBS show Jamie is on. Would love to see protective Gary against Kate Abdo with Big Meeks laughing in the background and Titi being torn between helping Kate or (rightfully) knowing when a battle is lost. Maybe a dib at Kate how being a host is easy money compared to being actual pundits & analysts

kinda obsessed w this prompt being sent like a day before Jamie ran his big mouth on live tv and got in trouble for it (though tbh he's ALWAYS running his big mouth and what he said abt kate not being loyal wasn't even up there with worst mistakes imo it's just the one that happened to go viral). but also YES I am obseeeeessed with the UCL Today gang's dynamic the banter.... the thinly veiled dislike between Jamie and Kate.... chefs kiss

Also, this ficlet can be considered part of the wife-gary saga and having said that I'm wondering if I should have that as a tag so the other prompt fills in that universe are easier to find......

---

“Joining us in the studio today is one of the most decorated British footballers of all time, with over a hundred appearances in the Champions’ league and two titles to show for it, it’s Gary Neville. Gary, welcome to the show.”

Gary, who’d been grimacing awkwardly through Kate’s introduction, shakes his head around a bit and then gives her a smile. “Glad to be here, I –”

“—hold on, hold on,” Jamie interrupts, “can we go back to the ‘two titles’ thing for a second?”

“Yes, James, I have two Champions’ league medals,” Gary says, turning to look at Jamie with one unimpressed eyebrow raised. “As many as everyone else in this studio combined, I believe. What’s not clickin’, can you not count that high?”

To Jamie’s left, Micah doubles over with laughter, but Jamie just shakes his head, reaching a hand out to Gary’s chest, pushing him back in his seat. “No, no, Gary, why don’t you tell our audience how many games you played to earn that second medal, eh?”

Before Gary has a chance to defend himself, Kate primly says “about thirty more across his career than you did, Jamie,” which sets the whole table off laughing again while Jamie sits glaring in the middle of it all.

*

Jamie, as the lone Scouser in the cast and the only one not to have won a Premier league (besides Kate, obviously, but she doesn’t count), often feels ganged up on at CBS. And to have Gary on as a guest, even though he’d agreed to the idea (and quite enthusiastically, though don’t tell Gary that), feels like an extra kick in the shin.

Because not only is Gary, Mister Manchester United, getting obvious favouritism from lifelong United supporter Kate, he has the more crucial advantage that nobody in America knows who he is.

This means that Gary on CBS is not ‘below-average defender who only achieved what he did through obsessive hard work and sucking up to Fergie’, no, Gary on CBS is ‘best full-back of his generation, Manchester United and England legend, one of the top 10 most decorated British footballers of all time, and David fucking Beckham’s best mate.’

When you look at it like that, it’s a lot harder to find something to tease him about.

Jamie still manages, of course, he’s spent the past decade making a career out of insulting Gary Neville and he’s damn good at it. Over the course of the show he’s able to get in a few digs about his nose, his hair, his weight, his dress sense. But that’s all appearance stuff, which is easy – one look at Gary and the jokes basically write themselves.

What that says about Jamie, the idiot who went and married him, he’s not sure.

Everyone around the table is joking about Istanbul, which is easy enough to do if you weren’t there, which none of them were, and it’s enough to get Jamie’s blood boiling. He’s getting ready to launch into a rant about how it was one of the greatest games in footballing history when Kate cracks a line about how Jamie’s successes were all dumb luck, and Gary’s face scrunches up in displeasure.

“Oh, I’m – I’m not sure that’s fair, really,” he says quietly, glancing back at Jamie as he does. “Don’t get me wrong, that Liverpool team were nowhere near Champions’ league winner quality, I’m sure James would agree w’me on that –” Jamie, very reluctantly, nods. “—I mean, they finished fifth in the league that season, got knocked out of the FA cup their first game. There’s always a bit of luck to be fair, gettin’ to a Champions’ league final, but credit where it’s due – they were a scrappy little team, and that win was well deserved.”

On Gary’s right, Thierry nods in agreement, which is quite possibly the highest praise Jamie’s ever received from the man, and even Kate gives Jamie an awkward little smile once Gary’s done talking.

Under the desk, Jamie drops a hand to Gary’s knee and gives it an appreciative little squeeze.

*

As soon as the cameras are all off Jamie wastes no time in grabbing Gary by the wrist to pull him onto his lap, where he sort of half-perches half-hovers because he’s nervous about putting all his weight on Jamie’s knees (even though Jamie keeps telling him it’s fine).

Gary makes no complaints at being manhandled, just smiles fondly down at Jamie and pinches his cheek. “Look at you, you vain fuck. What I said were barely complimentary and it’s still got you all over me.”

Jamie ignores this (because they both know it’s true) and surges forward to kiss Gary instead, paying no mind to the others still in the vicinity of the desk while they get their earpieces and microphones unhooked. He hears a groan from Micah, and an exasperated sigh from Titi, but they can both go fuck themselves because Jamie’s horrible bastard of a husband willingly said something nice about Liverpool on live television, and if that’s not cause for celebration then he doesn’t know what is.

When Gary breaks the kiss with a pleased little hmph and gets up to wander over to the snack table, Jamie is left to face his colleagues, all three of them looking at him with faces twisted in an attempt to suppress their laughter.

“Man like Jamie,” Micah says gleefully, clapping his hands together. “I knew you was bringin’ the missus on for a reason, this is like foreplay for the two a’yous, innit?” As soon as he finishes the sentence, he shudders at his own words, then adds “oh, ew, that’s like thinking about your parents, don’t want to know any more.”

“I think you’re onto something there, Meeks,” Kate laughs, “and here I was thinking he’d brought him on to show off his trophy wife.”

Jamie wants to protest that he did not bring Gary onto the show, he’s not the one who made the suggestion and it’s definitely not showing off or foreplay or whatever else his colleagues can come up with, but then Kate’s nudging him in the side with a smirk and saying “Trophy wife, Jamie, get it? Because he has a lot more trophies than –”

Jamie stomps off to go find his stupid annoying and very very successful trophy wife before Kate is able to finish the thought and prompt him to say something he might regret.

[seasurfacefullofclouds1]

Hi! I sent the anon about the BMG article - I can't link but it's online if you want to

Here’s the article, and I’ll excerpt:

SO WHAT’S BMG’S SECRET?

Number one, and it sounds obvious, make a great album. In the early days of the new BMG, we were very much artist services: you delivered a record, we released it for you.

Under Korda [Marshall, former BMG SVP] and now Jamie, the A&R element is very important. With all of the examples we could look at, the records are very good – but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re going to be successful.

The second element, in almost every example, is they have great management. The partnership between the label and the artist manager is so integral.

And the third element is the excitement and determination coming from the artist themselves. If it’s, ‘We’re going on tour, we should put a record out to support the tour’, that’s OK, but it’s not being driven by the music. I’ve had artists in here who’ve said, ‘This feels like the first roll of the dice’, even though it’s many years later.

IS IT HARDER TO DO THOSE DEALS NOW YOU’RE UP AGAINST VENTURE CAPITALISTS?

The problem is, we’ve seen a lot of overheated deals that have inflated prices and it’s very hard then to say to somebody, ‘This is what your catalogue is worth��, because they’re like, ‘Well, so-and-so got that much’.

If you’re selling a portion of your catalogue, but you’re still going to be out there performing and releasing new music, it’s important you have a company that’s a proper publisher or label. We will always curate and look after your legacy better than a fund will do, because we know how to administer songs and release recordings.

WOULD YOU LIKE TO HAVE MORE ACTS SIGNED FOR BOTH RECORDS AND PUBLISHING?

The balance is good. What we’ve never done is pressurise or make anything contingent on one or the other.

I enjoy the fact that lots of our writers are signed to other labels. Since Thomas took over, you’re seeing more engagement with the industry. Our communication historically was a little bit, ‘We’re out on our own, BMG is the new music company’. I always felt we were somewhat detached from the industry.

Now we’re shifting our physical distribution to Universal from October, going direct to digital and building our relationships with DSPs, you’re starting to see people joining BMG from the majors, particularly in the US and UK; you didn’t see that before.

The industry needs to be more collaborative. The Ivors is the best awards show because it’s the publishing industry coming together, acknowledging and rewarding everybody else’s success.

There’s always a feeling in the room of collaboration. The BRITs is more competitive, you support your team. But music publishers are used to sharing songs; we share the song, so we share the success.

HOW HAVE THOMAS’ [CEO Coesfeld] CHANGES AFFECTED THE WAY YOU WORK?

The biggest change Thomas has made is the focus on just being a publisher and a record company. It was great to be able to make documentaries and co-produce films but, on reflection after 12 months of not doing that, this is a much better way to run a business – to be super-focused on the core business of music publishing and records.

The other big change, which perhaps hasn’t been explained as well as it should have been, is the change to how we’re working internationally.

We had created a large international hub in Berlin and local marketing was going via Berlin. That team was disbanded last autumn, and there was a discussion in the industry about ‘BMG bailing out of international’ – which was totally contrary to what we are doing!

Now, with UK projects being marketed in America, they’re not going through a central hub, there’s just direct communication from London to Los Angeles.

CONVERSELY, IT SEEMS TO BE A VERY TOUGH TIME FOR BRITISH ARTISTS INTERNATIONALLY…

If we were exclusively focused on breaking talent, it would be very difficult. But the world we’re in and the artists we’re working with… I look at Simple Minds; next year will be the biggest US tour they’ve ever done. I look at Louis Tomlinson; his touring is going from strength to strength.

That Suede/Manics tour began in the US. I remember going to the Brooklyn show and thinking, ‘This is the smart way for UK acts to team up’. You’re getting bigger audiences at less cost and you’ll see more of those package tours, they’re excellent.

It is harder than it’s ever been, but the lane we are in gives me confidence that we can work within the parameters of the current climate.

DOES BMG STILL WANT TO TAKE ON THE MAJORS?

One has to be realistic. Frankly, you’re not going to take [them] on. We want to be competitive, but we’re seeing much more of a collaborative spirit.

It should be a healthy, competitive marketplace but there are so many examples now where artists are featuring on other people’s records… So many records are X featuring Y and it involves two labels, one of them is the releasing label and the other one shares in the revenues.

There’s a lot more partnership coming and an artist doesn’t want to hear that you don’t get on with this label, because that’s buggering up their plans.

When we started, we had to be disruptive and agitate. But, as an industry, we’ll be stronger if we’re more aligned than if we fight with each other.

WHAT ARE YOUR PRIORITIES OVER THE NEXT FEW YEARS?

To be more impactful internationally. To support the doubling down in the US, by signing the records and artists that can be meaningful in America, and moving into stadium artists.

In 2018, we were in theatres. Now we’re in arenas. Our job is to demonstrate to those artists that we are a serious contender at that [stadium] level.

We’re proud to publish Dave Rowntree from Blur – we could do a Blur album. I’m proud to do the neighbouring rights for Coldplay – we could do a Coldplay record. I’m proud to have worked with Bono on the Peter And The Wolf project – we could do a U2 record. I’m proud to publish Matt Bellamy – we could do a Muse record.

Every time you think maybe BMG has run out of runway, it hasn’t. And, because of the way the industry’s going, there are more opportunities coming. This is a good time to be at BMG.

So what I’m getting out of this:

1. BMG takes a lot of its cues from the artists and their managements. It isn’t comfortable taking big risks unless that’s what the artist wants to do.

2. BMG is more comfortable working with established acts who have a firm fanbase. It has neither the money nor manpower to break new acts or to significantly grow old ones. The BMG A&R department is more about connecting established artists to other creatives in industry, not breaking unknowns.

3. BMG takes a smaller slice of the pie from artists because established artists negotiate better terms for themselves. Just like we’ve seen with Louis, BMG relies on fans to pick up whatever their artist is doing.

4. BMG is not competitive in the USA. They’ve not been able to expand in the biggest English-speaking market in the world, and that really impacts them globally since USA charts affect so much global listening. Maybe Louis’ Eurocentric focus is a consequence of BMG’s Eurocentric business. It’s more complicated than just one factor, but it might partially explain the difference of Louis’ success in the USA with Niall, who is with one of the big three.

5. Venture capital is really turning the creative arts into big business, in a bad way. The same way venture cap has locked young people out of home ownership and savings, it’s killed the careers of young people breaking organically into music. Now every artist is seen as the worth of their tours and future catalogues. That means fewer artists make it through, less risk, more generic-sounding, corporate-approved, AI-generated bullshit.

6. Louis is doing fine. He’s staying with BMG, not going anywhere. He is a nice bright spot at BMG, but not on the order of Kylie Minogue. Louis is an arena-sized touring artist, at least in the USA and Europe, at least for the foreseeable future.

[chainofclovers]

Ted Lasso 3x11 Thoughts

I have to write my thoughts down right away this time.

[Please don’t hate me if calling TL a rom-com is your favorite thing but] I’ve always felt like Ted Lasso isn’t a rom-com in the traditional sense where a protagonist finds love with an “opposites attract” kind of person and it ends right as they’ve decided to be together. Because the rom-com structure can be brilliant for what it is, but it’s all about the build-up, the whirl of questions and magic that gets you to one perfect moment of clarity. Ted Lasso is a kaleidoscope of people, all learning from the light reflected off the others. People within its world fall in and out of love, but the “movie” isn’t structured entirely around a single love story between two people. And I like that, as much as I have strong feelings about the potential for romantic love in this universe. Because a lot of times, when I watch a rom-com, I can’t quite picture what will happen to the characters who have fallen in love now that they’ve cracked the code of getting there. But, of course, what if Nora Ephron wrote a sports film? (—Jason Sudeikis.) As soon as this ep ended, my wife said she loved that this very Ephron-filled episode rather aggressively tied up a lot of loose ends all at once, with a lot of rosy moments and schmaltzy dialogue and the kind of magic that exists in a romantic comedy, revised to be about sports. Which are actually about life. Or whatever.

I appreciate that structure a lot, but even more than that I appreciate that the Ephroniest episode of this show is the penultimate one. I assume—or at least, I very much hope—that now that they’ve tied up so much and hurtled these characters so rapidly towards the close of the scene, the finale will have some breathing room to be a bit more real and more messy. I hope that it still feels like closure for this story, but I also hope that it’s open enough that we not only trust that all these people will still have lives, but will actually be able to imagine them.

It’s kind of funny how much the ending to this one felt like a cliffhanger even though I’m certain Ted is going to tell Rebecca he’s going to need to leave at the end of the season. A neat trick for the rom-com ep, cutting off the two protagonists right before their moment of clarity. Because of course Ted is already clear. And I would have HATED Rebecca’s so-self-aware-the-fourth-wall-was-quivering speech about the truth bomb if it weren’t for Ted so clearly having something to say, and if it weren’t for how casual and almost careless she is about being down in the office simply because it’s on-schedule. I mean, this woman was in no way able to handle it when Higgins merely suggested rethinking Ted’s role when the season was going badly; I’m really curious how shaken she’s going to be when he tells her, and how quickly she’ll get to acceptance. 

For all that I loved the flirtation with rom-com structure, and the big sports movie messages, and all the very intense interpersonal dynamics (Ted and his mom! Beard and Nate! Roy and Keeley and Jamie loose in Manchester! Even the ten seconds of Bex and Ms. Kakes showing up at Rebecca’s doorstep!), there’s also a big part of me that’s just aching, though, because I just love Ted and Rebecca and Ted&Rebecca and Ted/Rebecca so much. And even though their connection would never be a rom-com romance to me—because their connection is forever, and their connection has already taken so much good work, and that’s as it should be—I would love to watch them fall in love in a romantic way (if not a rom-com way). That still of them watching the movie together was sooooo lovely and soft and framed with such perfect movielight that I just feel wistful. But Ted is right about You’ve Got Mail not quite being his favorite story. It’s Sam’s rom-com, and I would have even liked the little glance between Sam and Rebecca as Sam feels his own wistfulness if it weren’t for how much I just wanted to see that promo still come to life.

(The absolute bullshit of shipping wars notwithstanding, I feel like even among the sensible non-warring people there is a camp of seeing no romance between T/R and a camp of seeing romance in everything between T/R, and I’m just. In neither place. I have seen a lot of their connection points this season as full of the potential for some kind of realized love, and I think many of the things they have said to each other and done for or with each other have a comfort and familiarity that could flip nearly instantaneously into a romantic and sexual love. Also, aren’t rituals kinda kinky anyway? And their whole relationship is based on rituals? 

It’s so weird; I don’t think I’m delusional, but I could still see them having a huge moment in 3x12 and in fact am certain there will be one, I just don’t know what it will mean to them. But I will never be like “I’m clowning again” when it comes to this shit because the ingredients are literally all there, and I guess they can make whatever cake they want, and I’ll unclownily respect it while continuing to see what I see.)

Other stuff: 

Ted’s mom added some cutesy pillows and kitchen stuff to Ted’s flat, right? I think it’s interesting that her ultimate message was that Henry misses Ted and that he can’t be scared of parenting him, but in the lead up to that truth she was doing stuff to populate his living space in London more fully. I’m curious if that was the equivalent of the cute animal videos he referenced in s1, when she’s trying to work up the courage to talk about something real, or if it was something about a parents’ desire to make their children more comfortable even if they screw up, or if it portends something more complicated on the horizon w/r/t Ted’s relationship to “home.” 

I loved Becky Ann Baker’s performance so much, and I thought Jason Sudeikis played off her incredibly well. There is nothing more irritating than being irritated by someone whose worst qualities are the exact same as your worst qualities. And when Rebecca and Beard and Higgins and the entire team just adore Dottie, it’s just so…of COURSE THEY DO. It was so good.

I think this show has something very frustrating to say about forgiveness and I think maybe there needs to be a different word for this concept they keep invoking?! I’m certain there are interesting philosophical and theological beliefs about forgiveness and how it’s not really about willfully becoming okay with someone who has hurt you but more about freeing yourself from how horrible it feels to be trapped by how that person made you feel. And I think that is what Ola advises Sam to do when thinking about the bigots who trashed him publicly and trashed his restaurant, and I think that is what Ted advises Jamie to do when he suggests how Jamie reframe how he feels about his dad. I don’t think either conversation is intended to minimize the horrors of what has happened, and it feels like the intention/vibes/overall care for the person receiving the advice/outcome in each situation is “correct” in that both Sam and Jamie end up finding the conversations helpful. But something about forgiveness as a concept just feels like they needed to invent some new word or contextualize the old word better or something.

When Jamie’s mum takes his side about his hair being walnut haze OH MY GOD.

Genuinely thought Keeley and Roy were fully back together last episode and I think Rebecca also thought this, LOL. I am unsure what I even want to happen at this point. I mean, obviously Jamie/Keeley/Roy should ride off into the sunset together. So I guess I do know what I want to happen.

Beard backstory! Ted and Beard backstory! I am so, so glad the Ted and Nate reunion didn’t happen in the Ephron ep. I am so, so glad Beard showed up and gave something of himself and grew as a human being a little bit. I’m glad that Nate did not send anyone any groveling tomes, and that this continues to be a story about forging and reforging connections rather than the economy of redemption. 

I’m sure there’s more, but I’m fuckin’ exhausted. Until next time, so long, farewell. (HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.) 

[renee-writer]

Love Comes First Chapter 46

AO3

“How amazing. A coming grandchild and a actual one in the same day the twins turned one.” They sit and talk after the excitement of the day.

 

All had went to see Joel and congratulate his parents. There, James and Sophia shared their news.

 

“Wonderful! Simply brilliant. Congratulations!” Fergus, flush with new daddy vibes, called out.

 

“It is excellent news.” Marsali agrees.

 

Leah exams the baby before pronouncing.” He is going to be so smart. His brain is so big.”

 

They all laughed. “He may be. His head is large in relationship to his body because of his dwarfism, remember?” her da said.

 

“Oh right. Sorry. He is quite cute.”

 

Faith wept at holding him, declaring. “I will be a wonderful aunt to you.”

 

Fergus and Marsali share a look of confusion.

 

“Guilt about her earlier feelings.” Claire explains softly. They nodded.

 

“I can’t believe in eight months we will have one of you.” Sophia coos as she has her turn holding him.

 

Now the couple sleeps. The house sleeps, exhausted by the day. Jamie and Claire though have to much on their minds to give in just yet.

 

“It is incredible,” Claire agrees, “are we not worried that they are to young, James and Sophia?”

 

“They are but a bit younger than we were when we had James.” He reminds her.

 

“True, it just seems different. He has so much more of medical school to go. She wants to finish university too.”

 

“Aye, it won’t be easy but, they are strong and they have our support.”

 

“Absolutely,” she nods vigorously, “always.”

 

“In twenty years, they will be sitting up surrounded by their own sleeping family and discussing how far they have come and what a blessed journey it was.”

 

She smiles and kisses him. “That is a thought worth sleeping on.”

 

“Aye, it is.” He takes her hand as they rise and head to bed.

[nopecho]

Some sheets I prepared for a DOL roleplay I'm organizing with a friend! It's steampunk themed, it's got trauma, it's got drama, I'm working very hard on it :> Can't wait to start writing it with my friend! ANyway, some basic info on the LIs!

Arden- the isolated

Basically my own personal take on Kylar in this universe. However, instead of bein a gross little freak, he actually has some charisma to him. Yes he's a yandere, but not the desperate type. He's more likely to silently plan to kill all his love rivals, rather than kidnap you. he will eventually if pushed over the brink, though. § He has a creepy, yet misterious aura about him. Maybe it's his big, amber eyes that scare people away. He's softspoken, but will infodump you about his passion project. people call his stories creepy. He's into writing and dolls. Will make sure you cum every time you have sex.

Codium- the merman

A merman bound to the sea. In this steampunk universe, industrialization massively impacted the environment, including the sea. it's scattered with oil and garbage. His first encounter is him trying to drown you, thinking you're polluting the waters. Once he realizes his mistake, he'll apologize profusely and be actually rather kind and sweet. If you get in trouble in the sea, with high enough love he'll come rescue you. During sex, he'll note how different you feel from his people. Will praise you endlessly, and try his best to make you cum (may not be very good at it, but he tries.)

Gear- the robot

A mischievious little street rat. He lives off of stealing stuff from the dumpsters, fixing it and selling it at overpriced rates. He's desperate to make money to help his creator, Vicky. she disapproves of his criminal life, but she can't do much about it- they need money. Despite his bratty attitude, he cares deeply for those he considers friends. That's why he isn't afraid to turn to a life of crime. He is a dirty boy, he's into all kinds of nasty shit. Is not afraid to get his hands dirty , in any occasion. He's a horny little freak. he WILL have his sexytimes with you. Even if nonconsensual, he'll always help you cum after sex.

Jamie- the orphan

It ain't a DOL universe without an orphan somewhere. He's an aspiting inventor, and is quite creative. He may need some help to pay off Bailey, he barely manages to make enough money to pay rent every week. he often has to skip lunch to save on money. His favourite inventions are small, yet useful household items. He invented a machine that warms up bread just right. Unfortunately, not many people are interested in these kinds of things. He's sweet and caring, but also naive. Has a secret dirty side to him. loves to be degraded for the useless aborted kid he is, depending on PC to pay off his debt. Doesn't care if you cum or not, if he's done he's done.

Uri Gabriel (or Uriel)- the banished

a fallen angel banished from heaven for loving someone other than God. his greatest sin was to love his partner. He fell from grace because they told on him to repent. Uriel fell, and swore to never fall in love again. He is cold and distant, intentionally pushing you away if you get too close. The only reason he even bothers interacting with you, is because you save him from the church during your first meeting. He's dominating, he's course and rough, swears a lot during sex. You're his cocksleeve, at best. unless he actually starts developing feelings... he will become more sweet once he admits his love for you. doesn't care if you cum during sex. you're his toy, at best. why would he care?

[levinxliza]

( FLORENCE PUGH . CIS - WOMAN . SHE/HER ) - the chicago resident , ( ELIZABETH “LIZA” LEVIN ) , was heard blaring ( THE PROPHECY / TAYLOR SWIFT ) this morning . the ( TWENTY FOUR ) year old is a ( BAKER ) in the city & has lived the ( WEST ) tower for ( ONE MONTH ) . since being here , they have been told to be ( - SELF-DEPRECIATIVE ) , but also ( + SOFT ) , i guess we’ll find out soon ! 

Liza was the first-born daughter of James and Agnes Levin, and even though she was only two years older than her sister, Liza took the role of big sister very, very seriously. She always wanted to help take care of her sister, from changing and feeding her to walking with her to school as they got older. According to their mom, the girls were inseparable, always trusted each other above all else, it was the first formative relationship Liza had ever had. They grew up in a sleepy little beach town in California, the Levin family very well off, and even though that in turn meant Liza was, well, rich, she never flaunted it. She wasn't a boastful person, wasn't showy. Even from a young age, Liza had always been kind, always been soft (sometimes even to a fault) and it's an attribute Liza has kept with her into adulthood.

While her father, James, was a popular restauranteur, Liza's mother was who she took after more. Agnes was a baker, a love she'd gotten from her mother, and it was a love that had been passed down to Liza as well. Since childhood, Liza loved baking, loved making cakes and cookies and pastries, always excited to try new things--so of course when she was 18, she began working in her mother's bakery as well, eager to really hone her skills.

Life after that was good--great even. James and Agnes never seemed to leave their honeymoon phase, her little sister was doing well in her own classes and her own life, having given birth to a beautiful little boy named Jamie, and Liza was poised to (eventually) take over her mother's bakery. Things were perfect.

So of course, that's when the universe decided to swing in.

Liza found out her boyfriend of over a year was cheating on her, tilting her world off its perfectly-cultivated axis. And then mere weeks later, the universe showed her that was just the tip of the iceberg and shattered what was left of her. Liza's mother, father, and her sister were all killed in a car accident one rainy evening, essentially leaving Liza (and Jamie) alone in the world and changing life as she knew it forever . How was she supposed to go on when, in the blink of an eye, her whole family was gone? Liza kind of shut down a bit. She chopped her long blonde hair off, stopped answering (smothering) texts from friends (and outright blocked her ex). She couldn't go to work anymore, couldn't bear the ghost of her mother in every nook and cranny of the place. In fact, she couldn't quite bear being at home anymore either.

Liza had always been a selfless person, had always put her family and her loved ones first--but for once, she needed to put herself first. So Liza decided she needed a fresh start. And that start entailed moving across the country with her nephew. Her mother had been from the east coast after all, and she had a cousin with whom she was incredibly close to who prodded her to come and stay with her, so she figured maybe it'd be a good thing for her to now do.

It's been two months since her family was killed, and only about a month since Liza essentially became a parent and moved to Chicago, where her mother was from. She's settling in with her cousin and got a job, suitably, at a bakery in town. Everything is still new (and scary, and overwhelming) but Liza finally feels like she can breathe again. And if she tries hard enough, she can maybe keep her mother's memory alive in this new place to call home.

[allylikethecat]

Hi ally! how are you?! how’s Pop??

no comments or complaints from me about my day it was boring in the best way possible i had a bomb salad for lunch and now im gonna make myself some spaghetti for dinner (gotta offset my healthy lunch with a bowl of carbs 😉)

todays update was so so sad!! :( fictional! george and matty are allergic to communication (mostly cause matty was drunk af in this chapter tbf) i am really glad that matty is back home and safe i was getting nervous that he was out making bad decisions but jamie and ross to the rescue made it better. once again baby is going through it and its parents are having big feelings that they need to sort out like NOW cause atp baby’s gonna be born and immediately want to crawl back inside its womb after seeing the chaos that is its life haha in all realness though i love this fic sm and you never miss 🩷

tst!!: how old are the fictional george and matties in your fics? are they all based on irl eras of the guys or are there any where like one of their looks is from this era and the other looks like they did in that era?

does fictional! george ever get tired of being the “tougher” one in all the different universes? does he ever just want matty to take care of him or is that’s something he doesn’t really think about? how do the matties feel about always being the ig more “emotional” one? does he ever just wanna be in charge of george

Hello My Dear Smoothie Anon!! (I saw your other ask letting me know this was you lol) As always it is an absolute joy to hear from you!

I'm happy to hear you had a good, uneventful day and a yummy salad! I am the most basic of girlies - a chicken caesar salad with a side of french fries and a diet coke is like my ideal meal (other than chicken tendies) lol I hope you enjoyed your pasta as well!

Thank you so much for reading! I'm so happy to hear that you enjoyed the new chapter even with the Big Sad. Poor Fictional!Matty is really going through it! There is a very important, and very painful conversation that needs to be had between Fictional!Matty and Fictional!George when Fictional!Matty is sober. He very much wants to continue to make bad decisions but Fictional!Jamie and Fictional!Ross are there to support and keep an eye on him 🩵 you're so right though poor baby's parents gotta get it together before they are born!

YAY! Talk Shop Tuesday!! 🎉

How old are Fictional!Matty and Fictional!George in my fics this is a very good question!

Make Way for Ducklings - Fictional!Matty is 27 (about to turn 28) and Fictional!George is 26 and both look as they did during that time period

All The King's Horses - Both are 27 - Fictional!Matty looks pretty pretty similar to 27-29 year old Matty whereas Fictional!George is kind of like a blend of George at that age with bleached hair George ... i loved the bleached buzz cut lol

On a Friday - Fictional!Matty is 34 and Fictional!George is 33 - they look like their present day counterparts except Fictional!Matty didn't cut the curls off (in that universe they started working on their sixth album AFTER ATVB instead of continuing on to SATVB)

The Infection Verse - At the end of the Christmas Fic they were 34 and 33, however, they will be 35 and 34 in the next Birthday fic update! Their appearances match their IRL appearances

Honorable Mention:

You Know Where the City Is - Fictional!Matty is 25 and Fictional!George is 24 and they both look like they did during that era

The Vampire AU - Fictional!George is 26 and Fictional!Matty is 27 and despite Fictional!Matty's previous belief Fictional!George has only been 26 a few months - his birthday was in March

In my fics (at least so far!) Fictional!George has a lot of anxiety surrounding Fictional!Matty and taking care of him is his way of self soothing and assuring himself that Fictional!Matty is okay. Historically, Fictional!Matty also hasn't been the best caregiver even when he does try. However, particularly in the Infection Verse as they work through those issues and Fictional!George starts to let Fictional!Matty be there for him, and take care of him as well! I will say though, OAF Fictional!Matty might get to take charge later on 👀

Thank you SO MUCH for this wonderful, wonderful ask and for always being so absolutely lovely and supportive!! I love seeing your asks in my inbox! I hope you continue to enjoy my fics and that you are having a wonderful Tuesday and a GREAT rest of your week!

❤️Ally

EDITED TO ADD: I forgot to say how Pop was he is very good lol He was making all kinds of grumpy faces at me this morning and I pulled out my phone to take a picture of them to send my mom and then he decided he was going to put his ears up and be all cute and sweet looking he was like "look how cute I am I would NEVER EVER make angry grumpy faces at my mom, not me!"

[vole-mon-amour]

3x05

Savage girlfriends. <3 Also, there is sooo much happening in this pic. The boys on the left are in their own universe with those looks.

Beard is such a relatable mood.

The way Trent looks from Becca to Ted, and then chills. I love this dude.

Imagine being engaged after dating for 6 months. I thought only kids do that, but apparently, no?

She's such an asshole. Bringing her in was such a mistake, I was feeling this way since the beginning. Ew.

While I'm on that topic, further down the episode, Shandy can go fuck herself. What an ungrateful brat.

Jamie... baby... :') (whispers) You have Roy and Keeley. They're better and they're yours. Calm down.

Jamie and his need to hold onto his clothes :')

Jamie is such a big mood.

There is so much to unpack here.

Ted is very unique.

The fact that Beard joined him immediately = they're such best friends, always.

THE FACT THAT ROY JOINED WITHOUT COMPLAINING. In s2, he would never. He even refused to join them a couple of episodes ago!

Trent is everything. His mug (please be gay or bi, please, PLEASE, i need an official confirmation), his bracelet.

Lastly, I've no idea when I started kind of shipping Ted and Trent or wanting them to spend to much more time together and interact, but I do. When I look at them interacting, it's like something sparkles for me. Not to say there's any kind of romance or that they're baiting us (they aren't), it's more like me seeing them and sparkling. Which also makes me think... Trent said way earlier that he always loved his conversation which Ted, so what if there's some kind of one-sided pining? Or like Trent has a crush on him or something. Anyway, don't mind me. I just sparkle.

BEST FRIENDS. They could've lived together and sleep in the same bed at this point. Just bros being bros.

The fact that even Roy joins them now. I can't get over the development this show has given us already. It used to be so different.

The biscuits are always there. <3

Look at this gorgeous sunshine. She and Rebecca together when? Honestly though, that's such a unique look. She's so pretty.

Even if Rebecca can get pregnant, there are SO many things that can go wrong. Predicting that having kids doesn't mean being pregnant in her case.

[oh-surprise-its-me]

Roy/Jamie prompt: Jamie goes into another depressive funk but it's worse than the one he was in during Mom City. Everyone is deeply concerned, none more so than Roy. Jamie won't talk about it at first but instead of being a bull in a china shop, Roy is patient and actually suggests talking to Dr. Sharon. By some grace of the universe Jamie agrees, but asks Roy to be there with him. With Roy faithfully by his side, Jamie explains that the memories of losing his virginity in Amsterdam that he'd been suppressing for so long have come roaring back. He explains how his shit-stain dad had not only threatened him into doing the act, but also the lady of the red-light district as well. They were both under duress, Tartt Sr. didn't give a shit and now Jamie feels completely destroyed. Roy is distraught but determined to help Jamie heal.

Ah Jamie with the sex trauma, I don’t know a lot about aftermath of this kind of things so I really tried my best.

Roy is glad Jamie is talking to a therapist. He started to talk to one also. Needed to confirm he hasn’t done anything to damage Jamie more. Jamie insisted he hasn’t but he needed an actual professional to say so also.

Dr. Sharon has been great for Jamie’s personal sessions. It’s gotten better to the point where he doesn’t ask for Roy to be in the room every time.

Roy still drives and waits in the waiting room. Jamie almost always leaves crying.

Now any time they want to do anything a bit more complicated in the bedroom they plan it out a day before.

It’s been great for Jamie, he likes small amounts of spontaneous but the planning processes really makes him feel like like he’s in control even when he’s not.

Roy has told Jamie he doesn’t mind giving up control in the bedroom. Jamie doesn’t want that as often though after a few experiments.

They’ve always been big on aftercare, but now? Through the roof.

[thetarttfuldickhead]

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

Masterpost / AO3

10.

”Thank you, amigo! It is very kind of you to come and pick me up.”

Dani’s smile really was something else, wasn’t it? It used to piss Jamie off, the way Dani always walked around beaming like he was in the best fucking place and doing the best fucking thing, no matter where he actually was or what he was actually doing. But it had always been just a little bit disarming, too, even when Jamie was at his most prick-ish, and these days he found it impossible not to smile back when Dani looked at him and grinned like being around Jamie was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

”Don’t mention it, man,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road as he turned left on The Vineyard to reach Dani’s riverside home. “It’s no big deal.”

And it really wasn’t. Sure, Jamie had had to go back to Nelson Road instead of chilling at home and getting ready for the game tomorrow, and now he was driving around half of Richmond just to save Dani having to take a cab and potentially run into Earl loving locals with a grudge, but he found he didn’t mind. Hadn’t even really thought twice about offering, when Dani worried about it earlier in the day.

“I really think tomorrow will be a win for us,” Dani announced, and then he nattered right on, about football, about a movie he’d seen, butterflies, and the way his cubby smelled in the morning.

Jamie merely hummed and nodded. It wasn’t that he didn’t like talking to Dani, it was quite nice, really, but he was too distracted by his chat with Keeley and his whole Roy project to pay much attention.

Dani was fully capable of carrying a conversation all on his own, but eventually he must have noticed that Jamie didn’t contribute his fair share, because he turned to him with a small frown and asked, “Are you feeling well? You are being very quiet.”

Jamie opened his mouth to tell the other that it was nothing, he was fine, just a bit tired, yeah, but then he hesitated. He was struggling a bit with how to deal with Roy, and talking to Keeley hadn’t helped as much as he’d thought it would. Maybe Dani would have some ideas? Of all the players on the team, he was the one Jamie trusted the most not to take the piss, and not to ask any awkward or probing questions.

He still wasn’t really used to asking for help, though. It made him feel weird and vulnerable, made him want to squirm and say something sharp just to make the feeling go away.

He glanced at Dani; Dani was watching him patiently, nothing but friendly and earnest concern on his face.

All right then.

”If you want to make someone happy,” Jamie began, “but you don’t want them to know it’s you doing it and you’re not sure what they’d like, how would you do it?”

Dani lit up and gave Jamie a wink that was probably supposed to be sly. “Ooh, are you wooing a woman?”

“What? No!” Jamie made a face. He wasn’t wooing Roy, for fuck’s sake, he was just doing what the stupid universe wanted him to do so he could spend Christmas with Mummy. “There’s no woman, all right? Just this person I wanna cheer up, but without them knowing it’s me, yeah?”

”Ah, like Secret Santa?”

”Uh, I don’t know?” He considered it for a moment. “A bit like Secret Santa, yeah,” he condeded.

Jamie didn’t really get the point of Secret Santa – why spend time and money giving someone something nice if they weren’t even going to know it was from you? That was just weird, wasn’t it? But in the case of Roy he didn’t have much choice; if Roy knew the nice stuff were from him, he’d probably dump it right into the Thames. Wanker.

“You can send them gifts to their house,” Dani suggested. “Or, if you know where they are going to be, you can let one of those little airplane with big signs fly over the place with a nice message for them.”

Now they were talking! “You’d have to put their name, though,” Jamie noted. “Or they won’t know it’s for them. Don’t want any old grandma thinking it’s their message, do I.”

“People should send nice messages to old grandmas more often, though,” Dani pointed out, and yeah, all right, fair enough.

He’d been right to ask Dani for help, Jamie decided, as he pulled up by the other’s small mansion of a house. It was just a pity it hadn’t been a longer ride.

“Do you want to come inside?” Dani offered, as if on cue. “Mi madre left me some pavo navideño when she visited a few weeks ago. We usually eat it on Christmas Eve but we can heat some of it for dinner now and come up with more ideas?”

That didn’t sound half bad, actually. “Yeah, sound,” Jamie said. “Thank you,” he added after a moment’s consideration.

Dani’s smile was as brilliant as ever. “You are welcome, Jamie Tartt.”

---

When Jamie left two hours later, he had with him a container filled with Mama Roja’s properly lush stuffed turkey and a long list of really clever ideas on how to turn Roy Kent’s December into the jolliest time ever. Game on, old man. Prepare to be fucking happy.