#ABOUT TED TELLING HER SHE ALREADY WON

[skulandcrossbones]

You don’t need to tell me any of the details. ↳ TED LASSO S03E06: SUNFLOWERS

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

Back on my Jamie Tartt bullshit

Five times Jamie asked someone about their Dad, and one time someone asked about him.

Roy

“What’s your Dad like?” Jamie asks Roy one day after an early morning training session. Jamie is warming down and stretching. They had been talking about the upcoming Manchester City game. It was a home game for the Greyhounds and Roy had asked him if he had heard from his prick of a father. Jamie told him he hadn’t since Wembley six months prior.

Roy raises his eyebrows at him.”He’s fine.”

“He’s fine? What the fuck does that mean?” Jamie says to him thinking he shouldn’t be surprised, it is Roy after all. “You never talk about him.”

“You don’t talk about your Dad,” Roy counters.

“Yeah, but me Dad’s a dick. You already know that.”

Jamie was trying anything to get his mind off the upcoming match against Man City. The team had been playing like shit since the loss to West Ham. Even with God’s gift to those that have everything, fucking Zava, they still couldn’t buy win.

Higgins had assured Jamie (and Roy, multiple times) that James Tartt, Sr. was banned from Nelson Road but he still wasn’t relieved. The fact that his Dad hadn’t texted or called him asking for tickets had freaked Jamie out even more. He should be happy his Dad hadn’t called, but instead it just made him more weary wondering if he was about to jump out from around every corner instead.

“I don’t really know my Dad well if you have to fucking know,” Roy admits, but there’s no heat behind his words. “He was always working while I was growing up. My Mum too. Grandad was the one who picked me up from school and all that shit. Made me dinner, helped with fucking homework and put me to bed. He was more of a fucking Dad to me than my own was. Then I went to Sunderland at nine and haven’t spent much time at home since.”

Well that’s depressing Jamie thinks. He always asks people what their Dad’s are like. Jamie never knows if it’s masochistic if he wants to hear about these great Dads other people have or if he’s looking for someone to make him feel better about his own shitty Dad. Usually, whatever the answer is just makes him feel depressed in one way or another.

“But your Dad, like, came to your matches and shit?”

“Yeah, once I played at Chelsea. Bragged to all his mates when we won the Champions League in 2012, didn’t he. And when I played for England. Wouldn’t talk to me after we lost to Iceland in the Euros in 2016 for like a fucking month though.”

“To be fair, who loses to fucking Iceland? Even the Mighty Ducks beat them for Christ’s sake.”

Roy gives him a look. They had made their way through the Mighty Ducks Trilogy during a trio of away games. The team agreed D2 was the best of the series. Sometimes Jamie wishes Gordon Bombay was his Dad. He would be sick at hockey if he knew how to skate.

“He ever come to a Richmond game when we played together?” Jamie asks him.

“No, he doesn’t even live in fucking England anymore. He fucked off to Marbella after my Mum died, bought a fucking strip club.”

“A what?” Jamie asks, laughing.

“Yeah,” Roy rolls his eyes and explains. “Sold the fucking posh house I bought them like two weeks after she died and moved there. He’s only even met Phoebe a handful of fucking times. He was pissed at my sister for getting pregnant. Probably has talked to Ruth even less.”

“Your Dad sounds like a dick,” Jamie tells him.

Jamie loves Phoebe. She’s smart and funny, especially for her age. He doesn’t understand how any grandparent wouldn’t want to see her. If he ever has kids, his Mum will probably demand to move in so she can spend more time with her grandchild. Anyone who doesn’t want to spend time with Phoebe sounds like a floppy cock to Jamie.

“How come you never told me about him?”

“Cause I talk so much about my fucking feelings for people?” Roy counters which, fair enough. “Besides, you kind of cornered the market on shitty Dads.”

“I guess I just can’t help being the best at everything,” Jamie says, Prince of Pricks smile on his face, pretending like he doesn’t care about his own Dad, like he doesn’t feel bad for Roy, too. Roy knows better now. He knows Jamie always puts on a smile or a grin, makes a joke or says something cocky when talking about his Dad. But Roy knows the real Jamie, the one that cried in his arms after standing up to his father for the first time. The. Jamie who flinched at his hug because he’s used to pain rather than comfort coming from the older men in his life.

Jamie knows his Dad takes the prize for bad father of the year, but it doesn’t mean Roy deserves the Dad he had either.

Dani

“What’s your Dad like?” Jamie asks Dani. They’re on the bus on the ride home from Rebecca’s father’s funeral. Jamie glances down at Dani’s feet, clad in Rebecca’s slippers and feels relief for his friend’s feet. He can’t wait to get home and take off his own shoes, maybe call his Mum, confess to her how he professed his love for Keeley. Try to relieve himself of some of his guilt.

“Mi Papa? Oh Jamie, he is wonderful. You would like him a lot I think.”

“That’s good muchacho,” Jamie says to him, truthfully. Dani is always so cheery, he isn’t surprised that Dani has a great Dad. No one as happy as Dani could grow up with the type of Dad that Jamie had.

“I am very happy to go home for a few weeks once the season is over,” Dani tells him.

“Oh yeah, that’s good,” Jamie adds. “You must miss them when you’re here.”

“I do, sí. But we talk on the phone each day. Papa and mi Mama are very proud. My sisters, tambien. I am very lucky.”

Jamie agrees, Dani is lucky. Clenching and unclenching his right fist unconsciously, thinking of a few weeks earlier when he saw he last saw his Dad at Wembley. Dani would never punch his Dad. He doubts the Dad that Dani described would ever do something worthy of being punched, would ever lay his hands on his own child.

“You are amigo,” Jamie tells him, happy that Dani’s has a Dad worthy of the kind and caring striker.

Sam

“What’s your Dad like?” Jamie asks Sam when he hears that Ola is coming to visit his son in a few days.

“Oh, he is amazing,” Sam tells him, smiling.

Jamie smiles back at him. He’d always been a little jealous of the younger man’s relationship with his Dad. The Nigerian loved his father enough to name his restaurant after him, Jamie wouldn’t name an unflushed poopy after his father. Jamie witnessed numerous phone calls between Sam and his Dad. Sam is always smiling and laughing, telling him how much he loves him. Jamie can’t remember the last time he told his Dad he loved him, can’t remember the last time he would’ve meant it.

Sam’s Dad was everything Jamie wished his own Dad was. Supportive, loving, not a fucking nightmare. Sam’s Dad seemed like Jamie’s own Mum, didn’t care that their sons were Premier League stars, only cared if they were happy. Ola and Georgie would probably get along very well. Jamie feels a swell of guilt. Neither would be happy the way Jamie treated Sam two years before. Jamie has tried to make amends to his teammate, starting with the Dubai Air boycott and Jamie planned to keep making amends to his Nigerian friend.

“Oh yeah?” Jamie says back to him, not sure what else to say.

“He is very wise. Very funny. He always tells me to follow my instincts, and to trust in the universe” Sam continues. “The universe will provide, he says. Did I tell you he bought bitcoin in 2009?”

“2009, swear down? You were still in diapers then,” Jamie ribs him.

“Jamie, you are only three years older than me,” Sam tells him seriously. “But the universe told me to stay in Richmond last year, and look at us now. I know this is where I am supposed to be.”

Jamie says a silent prayer to the universe for Sam remaining in Richmond. Even Jamie Tartt can’t disagree with the universe.

A few days later, when Sam cries into his Dad’s arms in the changing room, Jamie can’t help but think of the last time someone’s Dad was in their changing room. The last time ended with Jamie’s fist connecting with his face. Everyone looks around awkwardly, the silence much the same as it was in the Wembley dressing room. Jamie feels helpless watching the scene unfold, the way his own teammates felt the year before.

Sam cries in the comfort of his Dad’s arms, while Jamie cried in Coach Kent’s arms. Sam’s Dad brings comfort, his own brings pain. Sam’s Dad brings support, his Dad gives criticism. Ola and James could not be more different. In some ways Sam and Jamie also couldn’t be more different, and each encounter is stark in their differences, but both young men are seeking comfort. Ola gives it freely, easily, while James just causes heartbreak and fear, pushing Jamie to seek comfort in others.

The next night when they’re at Ola’s helping cleaning up the mess, Jamie smiles when Sam walks in with his Dad. The big man cooks for them, appreciative of the way they care for his son while he’s so far from home. Jamie chats with them while they cook, thinking maybe he should ask Simon to teach him some of his recipes. Jamie is glad his friend has Ola for a Dad. Sam deserves a Dad like Ola.

Beard

“What’s your Dad like?” Jamie asks Beard, watching the older man hold his baby daughter. They’re at a cookout at the Higgins house, a few weeks before the season starts. Vera, Beard’s almost year old daughter giggles in his arms as Jamie tickles her.

“Apathetic,” Beard answers. Jamie still isn’t quite sure how to talk to him but it’s gotten slightly easier. Beard is different without Ted, more his own person than an extension of Ted. Still weird as fuck but Jamie appreciates the weirdness now. He’s trying to be more curious than judgemental. Jamie understands Beard is a man who has lived many different lives. The newest one being father.

“Right okay,” Jamie says unsure, so he turns instead to Vera the pitch of his voice raising as he asks, “And what’s your Dad like?”

Vera giggles.

“Didn’t really know him,” Beard admits. “My parents divorced when I was around 2. He disappeared after that.”

I wish my Dad fucking disappeared, Jamie thinks. It would’ve made his life a lot easier. Made his Mum’s life a lot easier.

“That’s shit,” is what he says to Beard instead.

“I’ve met your Dad, Jamie,” Willis says to him. “It’s shit but better than what you had to deal with.”

“Yeah,” Jamie says, making silly faces at Vera.

“But Vera,” Beard says to his daughter in the type of voice one only talks to babies with. “Is going to be have a much better Dad, aren’t you mi lady?”

Vers giggles in agreement. Good, Jamie thinks. Vera deserves the Dad that Beard wants to be for her.

Simon

“What’s your Dad like?” Jamie asks his step-dad. It’s Father’s Day night and he’s at home in Manchester, visiting Georgie and Simon. Mum had gone to bed early, but Jamie was too wired to sleep. He’s on the sofa when Simon came back downstairs and sat with him, silently watching television with him.

Jamie’s 19, he just left his own Father’s flat, after he passed out drunk. James had guilted Jamie into taking him to a fancy dinner, where he promptly ordered the most expensive scotch on the menu and told the kindly waiter to keep them coming. Jamie barely got him home before he passed out. Jamie snuck out while he slept and instead of going to his own flat, he just wanted to see his Mum. He hated Father’s Day, he always wants to make it a second Mum’s Day as one day is never enough.

When Jamie was younger, before his Dad started coming around, he always hated Father’s Day. They had to make cards in school and Jamie, with neither a Father, Grandad or even an Uncle to make a card for was always made fun of by the other kids when they saw his hastily made card with Happy Father’s Day Mummy scrawled across the front.

But then his Dad started to show up again, didn’t he. Expecting cards and love like he didn’t dole his own love out with insults and bruises. And it’s always been easier to do something with his prick of a Dad then deal with the consequences if he doesn’t. His money makes it easier now, Dad is happy with an expensive gift and a steak, he doesn’t have to put in the effort or the same time he did before he was being played to play football.

Jamie is a dutiful step-son though, and always wants to make his Mum happy, so he’s always gotten Simon a Father’s Day gift but he was saved from having to spend the day with him as Simon goes to see his own Dad. Not that his own Dad would’ve allowed it.

“He’s a lot like me, I guess,” Simon tells him. Jamie’s met the man a couple times, and saw him at the wedding, but he doesn’t think he’s really talked to the man. “At least that’s what my Mum used to say. Two peas in a pod.”

“Was he a teacher too?” Jamie asks.

“He was a principal,” Simon tells him. “Even was my principal when I was in primary school.”

“That must’ve been tough,” Jamie says, he can’t imagine being around his Dad every day in school.

“Oh not really,” Simon tells him. “We walked to school together everyday, it was nice.”

It strikes Jamie how different he is from Simon, their upbringings, their interests, all they have in common sometimes he thinks is loving his Mum.

“I’d go mad if I had to see my Dad fucking everyday,” Jamie tells him, internally wincing at the f word. Simon never chastises him for swearing but Jamie knows he doesn’t like it.

“Your Dad is a different sort, Jamie. I’m lucky to have a Dad like mine. Yours is lucky to have a son like you,” Simon says to him, smiling sadly. “I’m lucky to have a son like you.”

Son, Jamie thinks bitterly. Wants to spit back he’s not his son but holds his tongue. What would he be like if Simon had been his Dad and not his prick of a father? Or married his Mum when he was 6 and not 16. Jamie probably wouldn’t be nearly as good at footie, but would he be happier? Simon’s been his step-dad for a few years but Jamie’s never thought of the man as a father, or even in a father role. Simon is perfectly nice, perfectly fine. He makes his Mum happy so that’s good. But he’s kind of just there. Jamie hasn’t thought of Simon as more than his mother’s husband.

But Simon just called him son. Simon who always cooks for him when he’s home and tries his best to make whatever fits in his nutrition plan or whatever Jamie requests of him. The same Simon who asks him about all his football matches even though he knows he doesn’t like or understand the game. Simon who does his laundry when he’s home and drives Mum to any matches she wants to go to. Usually ones they know his Dad won’t be at.

Simon, who the few times they’ve been in the same room just took James’ insults rather than say something back and make a scene. At the time Jamie thought him a pussy for not responding in kind to his father. Now Jamie thinks that’s his father’s voice saying it in his head rather than his own. It made his Dad so angry when Simon ignored him, something Jamie now understands is a choice, a message, even more so than any retort back to James would be.

“I guess,” Jamie says to him, shrugging, wondering why he’s never really let Simon in. He wonders if he has the father he deserves after all.

+1

Jamie looks down at the newborn baby in his arms, David George Tartt, and can’t keep the smile from his lips.

His son starts to fuss a little, Jamie rocks him back and forth, softly singing “Baby Tartt, do do do do do do, Baby Tartt do do do do do do, Baby Tartt, do do do do do do, Baby Tartt.”

The baby settles quickly and Jamie whispers to him, “You remember your Dad singing that while in your Mummy’s tummy then yeah Little Davey?”

“I can’t believe he’s finally here,” his wife says to him, an exhausted smile on her face while looking at the picture perfect image of her husband and their son.

“He’s perfect,” Jamie says to her, not taking his eyes off his baby boy.

“Of course he is,” she laughs. “He looks just like the pictures Georgie showed me of you as a baby.”

His Mum is going to lose it at the sight of her sexy little baby holding his own sexy little baby. Georgie and Simon are on their way, probably breaking all sorts of traffic laws. Jamie can’t wait for his son to meet his Gigi and Grandpa.

“You think so?” Jamie asks her. The swell of brown hair and grey eyes certainly favour him.

“I do,” his wife says. “And I already know he takes after you if all the kicking he did to my insides is any indication.”

Jamie turns to smile at his wife, a new level of love for her building that he didn’t think was possible. He had no idea what childbirth was going to be like, but watching his wife through hours of labor, he has a new respect for mother’s everywhere, and in particular his wife and his own. Jamie walks over to sit on the edge of the bed next to her.

His wife wraps her arm around her boys, laying her head on Jamie’s shoulder.

“Little Davey is so lucky to have you for a Dad,” she tells Jamie. “And I’m lucky to have this DILF for a husband.”

She kisses him on the cheek, then turns to place a hand on her son’s tiny chest, feeling the steady rise and fall as she gazes at his perfect little face. “And how do you like your Dad, little man? You are a very lucky little boy. Your Dad is the best man I know. He’s funny, and sweet, he’s loyal, and giving, and he’s going to be the very best Dad. Already is.”

Jamie would be lying if he said he hadn’t freaked out numerous times during the pregnancy. His own father had been absent, at best, and abusive, at worst. He knew from stories that James Tartt, Sr.’s own Dad had been similar. But everyone in his life, including his Mum, his wife, Roy, Simon, Doctor Sharon, even Ted, had assured him that he could break the cycle. And if Jamie was certain of one thing, it’s that he would. Jamie Tartt is going to be the father that his son deserves.

[fanficfanattic]

for the ask game! 🗣 & ❤️

🗣

1) “Okay, okay. So the art competition at my school? I won!”

And he was up on his feet, lifting her into the air to spin while cheering “What’s this, Phoebe the artist, took on all of Year Three and beat every last one of them back!!!”

He set her on her feet before she could get dizzy and so he could see what she’d chosen.

“And what did you go with, Phoebe?”

“A unicorn dragon!” And she squealed again, bouncing on her toes, before holding her paper out for him to look at.

With only a little bit of extra drama, he clutched his heart before staggering back to sit on the bench. Every chance he got, he liked to put himself on the same level as most any kids. But Phoebe especially.

Her dad was apparently a piece of shit, different kind than his but still. So he didn’t want to be another adult in her life looming over her. Or failing to give her the praise she both needed and deserved.

“This is, hands down, the best unicorn dragon I have ever seen in me life!”

“Jamie, it’s the only unicorn dragon you’ve ever seen in your life!” Her adrenaline had to be through the roof because she said that while running her tiny little feet in place. Hopping from one foot to the other quick quick.

“Tell me where I’m lying, then?”

And she stopped wiggling so she could just have a giggle at him. Which meant the both of them were finally still enough he noticed what he’d missed at the first glance.

“What’s this, a second ribbon? Did you also win best pigtails?”

“No! Look at it!”

“I am Phoebe. Tell us what we’re looking at, though, yeah?”

“I won the whole school!”

“What!” And he jumped clean up at that, glad she didn’t flinch or startle. “All of primary? Even the big’uns?”

“Yes, Jamie! Yes! Only two of the Year Fives even used cross hatching.”

2) But then Dani was beside her, having just came in, and smiling his big beautiful Rojas smile.

“Hello, Keeley.”

“Hi, Dani,” she couldn’t help but smile back.

“Hi, baby.”

“Hi, Dani,” Jamie returned, also helplessly smiling back.

Keeley took a few extra seconds to register that exchange, before whispering “bloody hell”. She looked from Dani to Jamie and back to Dani again.

“If you could let go of my boyfriend now, we can all join the table.”

Roy had just gotten close enough to hear Dani say that and wouldn’t have kept his volume down even if he could have.

“Boyfriend?!” And the team once again turned to stare at Jamie.

“Yes, Captain. Jamie’s my boyfriend. I already told you this.”

“No. No you fucking didn’t. And actually, also, no he’s fucking not. He’s the prince prick of pricks and we’ve finally been rid of him. So you can’t bring him right back!” He panted a little at the end, not used to saying that many words when a good grunt would do.

“Captain, yes, I told everyone that I was bringing my partner. Jamie. My partner Jamie.”

“Er, Dani? I told you, yeah, me name is used by men and women. So. Unless you said Tartt or something specific like about playing with me. They probably assumed you were gonna bring a lady friend.”

❤️

1) After a third count, now that Ted seemed to be syncing up, it was time for him to start showing by example.

“Okay, doing good there, gaffer. I’m gonna start breathing with you.” He took Ted’s lax hand from his knee and placed it on his own chest. Kept it in place with his cold fingers. “Need to get some of those breathes deeper.”

And this time he didn’t count for in and out. Couldn’t help himself with hold and wait though. Now he was taking deep breathes, loud, and if he’d focus any less on Ted than he was, he’d have maybe been able to tell that all the lads were doing it with him, all syncing to his breath, to help Ted.

Ted’s breathing stabilized, and some color came back into his face, but Jamie didn’t let go of his hand when Ted gently tugged it.

“If we stop now, are all those bad thoughts gonna come winging right back?”

“No, uh, no Jamie. I’m fine now.”

“Well fine is a relative word, ain’t it?”

And Ted laughed, though this one also wasn’t entirely meant to be funny.

“Right are you, Jaymaroo.”

“No, I say no to that one. Gonna have to try again later.”

2) “Do you know the funny thing about glass houses, Mr. Kent?”

He didn’t bother to respond, just glared sullenly at her.

“Most people would say its that they are so easy to break. But that’s just the nature of glass, innit? No, the funny thing, is that people forget how easily you can see right. through. them.”

That got Roy’s attention.

[tiger-mcqueen]

What I found intriguing about "We'll Never Have Paris" is the parallel with the season's first episode. In "Smells Like Mean Spirit," we see Rebecca consumed with Rupert. Of beating him. She begs Ted to help beat him. In this episode, Ted's consumed with Michelle. Of the fact she might get remarried. He begs Rebecca to help him by hiring a private detective. In each instance, the person asking for help is still in their dark forest (and the help they receive moves them closer to getting out of that forest).

A lot more behind the cut.

When Rebecca begs Ted to focus on winning so she can "beat him," Ted keeps correcting her, saying, "them." He knows her focus on Rupert is unhealthy, so he keeps trying to redirect her in the most Ted way possible. But of course, when she begs him to fight back and is in obvious emotional turmoil, he promises to help her. But he doesn't stop trying to help her with what she really needs, which is to realize she's already won because Rupert is out of her life. He tells her that outright, and she gets it, finally. That realization is one of the final steps she needs to get out of her dark forest.

Now we have Ted, emerging from the forest, but not fully out of it. He's focused on Michelle's relationship with Jake, so much so that he has a hard time paying attention to Henry. He goes to Rebecca and begs her to help by hiring a private detective. She knows Ted's focus is unhealthy and in the most Rebecca way possible, tries to redirect his attention. She also sees the turmoil he's in and agrees to help. Still, she doesn't stop with what he really needs, and that's to stop obsessing over Michelle and Jake and focus on his son. Her advice (Who gives a flying fuck if Michelle gets engaged/that time in your relationship with her has passed but your time with Henry hasn't/stop letting yesterday get in the way of today) pulls him out of his obsession and he moves forward a little.

I don't think Ted's fully out of the forest yet, and I don't think Rebecca's done helping pull him into the light. It took a few episodes for the narrative to play out when it came to the Rebecca being obsessed with beating Rupert story line. It'll be the same with Ted.

See, Ted's focus on Michelle/Jake is much more about Henry than it is Michelle. He's worried about being replaced as a father figure in Henry's life. He's not concerned with being replaced as a husband and romantic partner. That point is made a few times. There's the scene with the coins for the vending machine (in which our magnets of symbolism and green matchbook of fate appear), and later his questions about Jake when he's reading the bedtime story (questions totally focused on Jake/Henry's interactions, not on Michelle at all).

Basically, I think Ted is clinging to Michelle as a means to stay fully in Henry's life, and Ted doesn't get that yet. And I can totally the show ending with Michelle asking to reconcile and Ted saying, "great!" but (at the very last minute, because rom com!) realizing his feelings for her have changed, that he's confusing his needs to be involved with Henry with his feelings for her, and that it would not be healthy for any of them to get back together given those circumstances. (And that his heart is with someone else romantically.)

I mean, like Rebecca said, she's always right. And she clearly said, "that time in your relationship with her has passed."

Also, did you see that split second look on Rebecca's face and the sound of her voice when she said "Michelle" in the "who gives a flying fuck" part? Girl doesn't like Michelle or how she treated Ted at all. Phenomenal acting too.

[toyboy-molloy]

many thoughts post 3x04

trent was so hot this episode. you get that cctv king

his gay little ‘I see you’ look at colin

ted and rebecca racing each other to the ‘who’s gonna have a breakdown first’ finish line

roy calling trent a fucking legend

that one richmond lad about to introduce his hammers boyfriend to his richmond mates

ted and trent at the end I see you

I don’t like flo but at least she’s honest about what she wants

DIAMOND DOGS

obsessed with bex’s comments to rupert

rebecca manhandling ted

the absolute chaos of the game

zoreaux van damme

‘I let my kids name themselves when they reach seven years old’ zava the man that you are

nate struggling. nate and ted’s lift chat. the pitch stuff. it’s gonna be so good

roy and jamie bonding

beard dump jane challenge

ted and rebecca’s office chat

'you’ve already won’ 🥹

ted telling michelle he was upset about her and their fucking therapist

[winderlylandchime]

1/2We are officially on 3x13! He legit ran into the house, sat on the couch and like tapped it and didnt let me do anything else before.

‘Look at Brian all dramatic and sexy. OH LOOK AT BOTH OF THEM ALL DRAMATIC AND SEXY. Oh shit the cop didnt show? I forgot about that. Of course he looked hot Brian. It’s Justin’ ‘WHO THE FUCK IS KNOCKING ALL THE DAMN TIME AT HIS PLACE? (hunter shows up) ITS MY BOY HUNTER! HES ALIV- A CONDOM?! Hunter…i am both impressed and traumatized. (And justin showed up) aw they canceled gay as blaz- thats brians shirt! OH WAIT TILL HUNTER FINDS OUT THEY ARE MARRIED IN MY HEART’ the best scene of the episode is now up *starts hysterically laughing and rewinds it 2 times* ‘HE FUCKED A MURDERED!! MHM HE HAS A BOYFRIEND! OH HE SAID YEAH! *pauses tv* HE SAID YEAH! HE FUCKING SAID YEAH! I know season 1 Brian is sick to his stomach somewhere out there. BUT ME? I AM HAPPY AS EVER! HE HAS A BOYFRIEND! (brian kinda defends hunter or whatever) i fuck with this duo! They could have weird uncle/nephew potential…..if hunter just stops trying to fuck Brian.’ That scene between Em/Ted is up where they’re having sex ‘oh no. Ted no. Stop. TED, Emmett baby, YOU NEED TO RUN! I feel bad cause i like Ted but damn it Em RUN, i think there’s no saving him. TED STOP! Oh Emmett is breaking my heart, i cant watch this. ted is killing me.’ ‘HI BRIAN! GIVING A USED CONDOM TO A COP IS A DIFFERENT LEVEL OF ICONIC. I love this guy *points to the screen* i love you. *randomly stops ep on Brian and just stares at him for a minute* yeah’ *continues the ep* ‘THEY WERE PARTNERS? Of course they were. I fucking hate cops. Can we get rid of them in this show? Isnt it enough theyre already out there *points to window* ‘fuck, justin is in trouble..THATS RIGHT HIM AND BRI BRI WERE BOYFRIENDS BEFORE! he kinda did fuck the boss, didnt he? Good for you, Blondie! (Justin says that if its any consolation he was doing a kick ass job) *stops tv and starts laughing and literally falls back in the couch with his feet up in the air and kicks them* yes, you were doing a kick ass job! APOLOGIZE? Bitch, fuck you and your apology.’ Scene with Mel/Linds/Mikey comes on and all he says is ‘this is so fucking weird…and dumb’ Mikey asks Em when hes gonna apologize to Mel: ‘this is a little fucked up. I mean yeah, it was rude but she also should apologize to him because she has no fucking right to say that to him…*he then goes silent for a really long time*…you know who would’ve appreciated Em calling her a cunt? Brian. He’d laugh.’ ‘Oh Emy. No don’t defend Ted! No no no, you need to save yourself please baby boy! I love you too much to let you go like this!’ ‘BRIAN AND JUSTIN! THEYRE WALKING! Why arent they holding hands? Rude. Exactly Blondie, Bri Bri is right! Your education is important and it’s your ticket out of here! Okay, so you dont care about money but do you care about a house? Food? Health insurance? Exactly, so listen to my boy Bri Bri, and go there and apologize cause sometimes you gotta convince stupid people that they won. And finish your school cause that’s how you go places in lif- *looks at me in absolute horror* oh my god, i sound like dad. I sound like mom AND dad. OH FUCKING SHIT ON A STICK WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED? I mean brian is absolutely right but i dont wanna sound old like that so *whispers softly* fuck school’ ‘THE COP DID IT! Carl stop disappointing me! I kinda had some faith in you and then you ruined it!’ ‘BRIAN WHY ARE YOU BACK AT THE BAR? YOURE GONNA GET YOURSELF KILLED! HEY! BRIAN IS MORE THAN AN ASSHOLE. He is also pretty! shit he is not holding back, going for the kill with the photo. He actually cares a lot about this. BRIAN DO NOT GIVE HIM YOUR NAME. HAVE YOU NEVER SEEN AN EPISODE OF LITERALLY ANY CRIME SHOW?! *looks at me worried* if he gets hurt…no wait, if ANYTHING happens to Brian, i will burn everything to the ground! He has been through enough! *head in his hands at this point* Bri..Baby..Brian… why are you telling him all this..damn, i forgot about the Trump wannabe. *points to tv angrily* HEY! What did i just say? Get your hands off my Bri Bri! *looks at me angrily* NOTHING better happen to him. Not now. Not later. Got it?’

OH MY GOODNESS DEAR SWEET ANON!

They could have weird uncle/nephew potential…..if hunter just stops trying to fuck Brian <- wait until brother (and Hunter) finds out Hunter is straight! I do love the Brian / Hunter dynamic so much. So many iconic lines come out from it. Including THEE SCENE with “you fucked a murderer.”

Brian would appreciate Em calling Mel a cunt. He really would.

Dyingggg over your brother turning into your parents. It comes for us all at some point. I open my mouth and my mother comes out. It’s frightening.

How sweet that your brother is so worried for Brian… but he’s the main character, nothing bad happens to him beyond cancer (with a 99% survival rate) and a broken bone and s5.

[weirdo09]

wheelclair royal au pt. 2 <3

as a year goes by, michael starts to fully realize his feelings for lucas. he just doesn’t know the right time to tell him. unfortunately for him, his parents decided to find him a suitor.

more so, a woman suitor. who’s name is eleanor jane hopper-byers of the neighboring kingdom, wisetropia. her parents, queen joyce hopper-byers and king jim hopper-byers along with her two brothers. her twin, prince william byers a kind-hearted boy and her older brother, jonathan byers who is the same age as the darling princess, nancy.

the byers family came to the castle later afternoon. michael and his sister are in the throne room waiting for them alongside their parents. the family came in and introduced themself properly. they all bowed before them. “hello, your majesties, i am joyce byers of wisetropia and this is my family.” joyce announced. mike got a good look at the family and his supposed suitor. she was good looking, though not someone he’d like to marry maybe befriend(y’all already know who he wanna marry ;) )

he then glanced at the young prince and slightly blush. ‘he’s………beautiful..’ mike thought and whispered out loud. nancy shot him a glare ‘what are you talking about?’ mike blushed even harder. ‘nothing’ he whisper-yelled back. their parents not even noticing and holly was just singing to herself. “your highnesses, is it ok if we stay here for the courting ritual?” joyce inquired “by all means, yes you may.” karen said with a smile.

“i can take them to their rooms!-“ mike suddenly said “are you sure, son?” ted grumbled, wanting this all to be over with. “yes, it seems like you aren’t going to.” mike replied back firmly ‘he’s kinda cute’ will thought as he listened to mike and his father’s bickering. eleanor(el) was looking at her twin with a smile, she knew that he was starting to like mike just by his facial expression(believe me, they spent much time together to not not know)

when mike finally won his father over, he lead the byers family to their rooms. until they got to will’s room, did el wink and left them alone to find her room. will was thinking ‘what the hell, el? why’d you leave me with YOUR suitor’ though he kept on a small smile. michael was the first one break the silence. “so, um, how are you, william?” “i’m fine and please call me will.” will said quite nervously not sure how to act around him. “oh, ok sure well in that case, please call me mike.” mike said sweetly but he was also thinking ‘how can i like two people at once?’ ‘is that wrong?’ ‘what’s going on with me?’. he suddenly remembered “oh, this is your room.” mike motioned to the door beside him “thank you, shall i see you again?” will questioned. mike smiled “you shall.”

mike went to go see lucas in their secluded garden. “lucas?” mike called out. “luc-“ he called out again then, someone grabbed him from behind into a hug. he looked up(lucas is taller than him in this 😋) and smiled “hiya, pretty boy, did ya miss me?” lucas said slyly with a massive grin. mike blushed and chuckled “i did.” “glad to hear that, so what did you do while i was wastin’ away here?” lucas asked curiously. mike lightly slap his chest “don’t say that!” “anyway, my parents found me a suitor” he says grimly. lucas looks confused but also relieved that he doesn’t like like his suitor(yk what i mean?)

“oh…” lucas said rather gloomily “don’t worry, it’s not like i like the suitor, if that’s what’s troubling you.” mike said. “what? no, that-“ “that wasn’t it.” lucas said nervously “yea, sure.” mike grinned happily that lucas was(somewhat) jealous. lucas rolled his eyes and mike chuckled in response ‘he’s too cute for his own good.’ lucas thought. “soo, what do you want to do?” mike asked ‘you’ lucas thought(and no, not in naughty naughty way more like kissing way, dirty minds 😡) “let’s go to the forest.” lucas said “ok, let’s go!” mike said excitedly, dragging lucas with him. ‘god, this boy’s gon be the death of me, good thing he cute🤭’ lucas thought as he was dragged.

hope you like it ☺️ @adorewillbyers @adoremaxmayfield @pimplepogue @mwheelerz @slaymaxuwu @background-character-341 @thebylerfiles @assbutt-casbutt-iii @byleriscanonby

[vro0m]

vro0m’s rewatch - 126/306

2013 Indian GP

Seb can (probably will) win the WDC here. The only way he won't is if he DNFs.

It's foggy it seems.

Lewis is third on the grid. On the driver's parade truck Natalie Pinkham is trying to put a scarf/sari thing on him but he won't let her.

He says "I had it already, I just took it off!" he laughs. She asks why, "you looked fantastic!" (She herself is dressed in some kind of sari). Lol. He knows it's not okay. He says "it didn't feel mmhhhngg", she finishes for him : "a bit itchy."

I don't think that was the problem but okay. They agree the Indian fans are fantastic and he says he's happy to see so many people here but the stands are half empty and they’re barely making any noise. He says the crowd is growing every year. They already know they won't be here next year, but he hopes they'll come back at some point. Omg it's so cringe. She says "so you think you could come back in 2015? These guys would certainly like to see that," and then, louder, to the stands, "wouldn't you?" Nobody answers. Lewis says he really would like to be back, the track is really nice, he's had a nice week. The people are so welcoming… We hear some noise from the crowd now, maybe there's a delay, idk. Lewis encourages people from everywhere to come to this race because the hotels are fantastic and you're being looked after (I mean… you are for sure but you're a driver my boy). Natalie says Seb looked like he was in a league of his own during quali but can Lewis challenge him today? He says "naturally… on pure pace? no way.”

“But strategy can play a part today, obviously the start... we can possibly get him at the start, that would be amazing." But in the end he says he has a lot more grip than they do, it's just a different car, so they're gonna do what they can but basically his ambition seems rather modest : to give them a fight at the start and then hold the others behind. 

Okay so. Seb needs to finish 5th or higher but even if he DNFd or was out of the points, Alonso would need to finish in the top 2 to still be in the running so yeah. Lol. It's over. It's been over for a while anyway. 

Full quali report. Grosjean was out in Q3 because he went out on the wrong tyres and fucked up. McLaren got both their cars in the top 10 for the first time since Monza and decided to qualify them on the mediums, which put them in 10th and 9th. Ferrari and RedBull weren't sure what was best so they split their strategies. Alonso and Webber were on the mediums, Alonso is in 8th and Webber in 4th. Massa did better than his team-mate on the soft tyre and he's in 5th position. Lewis as we said is 3rd, while Rosberg outqualified him. Seb is on pole on the soft tyres.

Paul Di Resta seems to have been ill during the week as he now says he's feeling better, apparently because of some curry or whatever. 

Aha but Redbull is now hurrying to change some gears on Seb's car with permission from the FIA. 

We get a segment about world champions and records and such. In 2013, there's been 32 World champions in the history of the sport. Only 6 have won the title twice. Only 5 thrice. And only 3 have won four titles. Seb is about to be the 4th to do so. 

Also note that Seb has led every single lap raced in India so far.

Okay it's time. Formation lap. 

And they're racing! 

Oh my god Lewis has an incredible start it almost looks like he jumped it, but he didn't. He's already ahead of Nico. There's yellow flags. A few corners later, the two Mercedes are wheel to wheel but here comes Massa AHEAD OF THEM BOTH! Lewis is now behind Rosberg as well damn. At the end of the first lap, Seb is already 2.5 seconds ahead of Massa. Several cars pit, there must have been contact and punctures maybe. No, Ted tells us at least for one of them this was entirely strategic to get the soft tyres out of the way. Seb is told to box as well! Alonso gets a nose change. So it's Massa in the lead now, one second ahead of Rosberg while Lewis is only half a second further down. Webber got contact twice in the first lap, he's P6, Seb is P15, Alonso is P20. Remember that Alonso has to finish in the top 2 or Seb wins the title. Webber pits. Jenson pits. Amazingly the current top 3 is still out on the softs. Raikkonen is starting to struggle on this tyre so it won't last. Rosberg pits indeed. Raikkonen pits. Massa and Lewis are still out… Massa is called in. Lewis pits. It's all messy then I don't know what the real order might be. Let's see… 

So on lap 10, we have Webber in the lead (pitted), followed by Perez, Ricciardo, Grosjean and Sutil (who I all presume didn't pit??? But who knows). Then there's Seb (pitted), Gutierrez (not?), Massa (pitted), Bottas (?), Rosberg and Lewis (pitted), Hulkenberg (pitted), and see it's all messy I don't know who pitted and who didn't. 

Seb overtakes Sutil. Alonso attacks JEV who defends for P16. Rosberg overtook Bottas for P9 but Lewis hasn't yet. Seb is up in P4 ahead of Grosjean. Lewis is still P11 behind Bottas. Gutierrez is under investigation for a jump start??? I'd like a replay… Seb overtakes Ricciardo for P3. Grosjean pits, he was on softs, now on mediums. Lewis is finally up in P10. Took him long enough. Gutierrez gets a drive through for the jump start. We see a replay but as I don't know where Gutierrez is, it doesn't help me lol. Oh yeah OK, we see a replay from Grosjean's car that make it obvious now. He started early then braked and then went again. Anyway Grosjean pitting puts Lewis in P9. Then someone else must have pitted because the Mercedes are up another place. Ah it's Gutierrez's drive-through actually. 

Lap 20. Seb overtakes Perez for P2. He's now 11 seconds behind Webber. Alonso overtakes Gutierrez for P13. Oh it was daring, he's lucky Gutierrez moved over to give him room, others wouldn't have done that. Rosberg overtook Massa but went too deep to keep that position. Ohhhkay here we can finally have a look at the tyre situation let me pause. 

Alright. So Webber is in the lead on mediums, hasn't pitted yet actually. Then Seb, pitted. Perez, Ricciardo, Sutil, all not pitted, on mediums. Then Massa, Rosberg and Lewis, all pitted. Bottas, not. And Hulkenberg finishes the current top 10, pitted. Behind him are Raikkonen and Di Resta, both pitted and then Alonso who weirdly went from mediums to mediums actually? That's gonna be a weird strategy for him. 

Raikkonen is attacking Hulkenberg but locks up. But actually Hulkenberg might have gained a position against Bottas by going off track. Penalty incoming I guess? Rosberg is closing on Massa again and Lewis is in his DRS zone as well. But Rosberg pits! He's out in P13, ahead of Grosjean. Webber pits from the lead, he's out in P2. Perez also pits, out in P7, behind Lewis and Massa who didn't react to Rosberg's stop. 

We're halfway through the race. Grosjean is under investigation for swerving behind Gutierrez (the more than one change of direction rule). What's weird is that it's usually the one being chased doing that rather than the one chasing. Perez attacks Lewis but Lewis defends. Nope, he gets him in the straight. They need to pit him I don't understand why they kept him out it makes no sense. Massa pits. Lewis pits. They just kept them out for what, one or two more laps? That's stupid. Alonso also pits. Seb is called in as well. So. Webber, Seb, Ricciardo, Sutil, Perez, Hulkenberg, Raikkonen, Bottas, Rosberg, Grosjean. Massa and Lewis are 11th and 12th because their teams didn't react, that's so stupid. Welp it's not looking like a good race for Mercedes anyway. Alonso overtakes Jenson for P13. Webber pits. Seb is back in the lead, and actually Webber is out behind Ricciardo. Hulkenberg and Bottas are under investigation for that track limit issue earlier. Ricciardo pits. Seb is told to mind his tyres. Rosberg is up in P5, Lewis up in P8, no P9, he couldn't make his move on Ricciardo stick. Raikkonen overtakes Sutil for P3 while Alonso pits again. Pic retires. Webber is losing the gearbox HE'S OUT. It's lap 40.

Rosberg overtakes Sutil for the podium while Lewis is P7, closing on Massa. Sutil finally pits and is out in P9. Lewis is losing again on Massa. No further action against Grosjean for swerving around. Raikkonen is told to save fuel. Alonso is still out of the points. 

It's lap 50, Lewis is still behind Massa. It's driving me crazy tbh. Only 10 laps to go. Rosberg overtakes Raikkonen for P2. 5 laps to go. I can't believe Lewis is still stuck behind Massa wtf is that about. HE ACTUALLY IS BEING OVERTAKEN BY FUCKING PEREZ IN HIS FUCKING MCLAREN I am so. frustrated. Well it doesn't last, but still. He's been trying to overtake Massa for 15 fucking laps for that ahhhh man. Is he sleeping or something? On the radio he says the rear tyres are gone but bro. Everybody's tyres are gone. Anyway Grosjean overtakes Raikkonen for P3. But Raikkonen resists and on the radio Grosjean complains : "Come on guys!". "We are telling Kimi" is the answer. Grosjean is ahead again. Massa overtakes Raikkonen as well. His tyres are truly gone. Perez overtakes Lewis but Lewis overtakes Perez. 3 laps to go. Lewis attacks Raikkonen. Perez overtakes them both and Lewis follows. But wait, now Lewis has the DRS. 2 laps to go. They're side by side but he can't make it past. It's the final lap. 

And it's the end of the race. 

Seb wins the race and the WDC, RedBull wins the WCC. Rosberg is P2 and Grosjean P3 after gaining 14 places. Impressive. Lewis is P6. 

And I know this rewatch isn't about Seb but let us take a moment still.

He fights his way through the crowd to the podium damn. What a moment. Can't wait to see Lewis win titles again in this rewatch AND in our current time. And he cries, he cries. I can't imagine such joy.

In his interview, Lewis first ignores the questions to congratulate Seb. "Four time World champion is pretty awesome".

He says with a more serious face that on their side it's good they scored points but it was a pretty poor race for him.

He says the car felt okay but it was a bad race, it happens.

She asks how much of an achievement it is for Sebastian, especially being so young. "Well he's now in the legendary books," he smiles again. "He already was so… but to win at such a young age, I think he's only 26, it's pretty phenomenal.”

“He's broken quite a few records these years, so you know I'm really happy for him, I'll try and catch him at some stage, he's probably too busy for now." Hah! That's a nice double meaning there hehe.

Anyway. Seb was given a reprimand because he did not drive straight to Parc fermé after the race and Redbull was fined €25k for not instructing him to do so adequately. (Basically because he did donuts and they didn't tell him to stop lmao, stay mad FIA, stay mad). 

[lizzygrantarchives]

Q Magazine, December 2019

Her 2011 breakthrough single Video Games is the most voted-for entry in Q’s Songs Of The Decade. But Lana Del Rey’s latest album, Norman Fucking Rockwell, is a strong candidate for album of the decade, too. Ted Kessler is granted an audience in Laurel Canyon to hear how the 2010s belonged to America’s finest modern singer-songwriter.

Here’s an address in Laurel Canyon. You’ll need to order an Uber to get there as there’s no parking, so press that button at 3.30 and head out into the Los Angeles traffic on Sunset and Vine. Lana Del Rey will be ready for you at 4pm.

Leave the transience of Hollywood Boulevard in the rearview and head north-west, following ever-more leafy lanes far into the hills. Life is good up here, a picture of moneyed, rustic bohemia, with pastel stoops, houses built on stilts and floor-to-ceiling views of the Hollywood Hills. But it doesn’t matter how nice your house is when the big one hits and everything tumbles into the fire and brimstone of the San Andreas Fault. Everyone knows that approaching fear here. It’s all they ever talk about.

Pull up at some steep, winding steps beneath a lofty, proud wooden residence. Climb them, shake two pairs of hands and walk through wide-open French doors into a high-ceilinged rented kitchen-diner lined by so much vinyl there’s a ladder on wheels to reach the top shelf. She’s sitting on a stool with her back to the kitchen as you enter, scrolling through her phone, and rises to greet you with a firm handshake and an open smile. Say hello to the resident voice in your head, Lana Del Rey. “Where would you like to sit,” she asks? You really don’t mind.

“Are you a Libra?” Del Rey asks, perceptively. It’s an incredible deduction based on four words and maybe 30 seconds’ interaction.

“I only think of star signs because it’s come up in my writing for the next thing I’m doing,” she says, with a chuckle, as we pull up two chairs to a round table with a bowl of tiny red apples at its centre. “I never cared before. I did get you right as a Libra, though. Typical Libra answer.”

Lana’s a Cancer. Born on 21 June, 1985, in New York City, as Elizabeth Woolridge Grant.

“All water. A little fire. Carry my home on my back, like a crab. Crybaby. Compatible with Scorpio and Pisces, which is funnily enough my sister and my brother. Kind of cute, huh? I’m on the cusp of Gemini, which takes care of my more theatrical side.”

She presses record on her phone. Don’t worry, it’s just a precaution. “I’ve never needed it since I started doing it.” But there was that one time she wished she had done it, so she always records.

Lana Del Rey pulls at her long, loose pony-tail and straightens her back. A small, square vape. A puff of mango smoke. You have exactly one hour with America’s greatest singer and songwriter of the era. What is it that you want to know?

First of all, you have to tell her some good news.

Video Games, Lana Del Rey’s breakthrough single from 2011, has been voted the Song Of The Decade by the writers and readers of Q magazine. It won by some distance, too.

“No fucking way!” she laughs, looking absolutely thrilled, and shocked, even though later we will discover that she knew this already. Her joy seems genuine. “I mean… the best song of the decade?! People really voted for that?”

They did.

“Wow. Come on!”

It is a good song.

“One of my favourites.”

Its conception took time. Video Games finally arrived after Lana Del Rey had spent two lonely years living in East London with her manager Ben Mawson, above a fish market on Kingsland Road in Dalston.

“I was at the tail-end of 600 days of writing in London, back-to-back days. With about 111 writers. I was writing for others too. I wasn’t really sure what I was doing. I’d kind of exhausted my bigger sounds. I just worked every day. For two years, I had no friends.”

The night that Video Games was born, Del Rey was at the Sony studios in Mayfair, working with a young English writer, Justin Parker. “It was finally at the most casual point in our relationship. We’d already tried to write everything.”

On the piano, Parker started to pick out a melody in F minor. “Hmm,” thought Lana. “That’s good.” So she started to sing, in a much deeper register than she’d previously employed, “Swinging in the backyard, pull up in your fast car, whistling my name…” She knew immediately they had something serious.

“I wrote it very quickly, because it’s just that melody.” The song itself was a stately, melancholic ode to a formative boyfriend who liked to play World Of Warcraft as their happy domesticity slowly drifted off-course into a too-comfortable funk. It captures that moment when something is over before it actually officially ends. She knew it was right. She’d finally done it.

“So I sent it around to everybody and said, ‘This is it.’ And they were, like, ‘This is not it. This is six minutes long.’”

They were wrong. Coupled with a video she’d made using her own webcam segments and YouTube clips, Video Games became first a viral sensation, and then a bona-fide hit. “I’m really grateful to Fearne Cotton, too, for giving me a spin every week [on Radio 1] for four weeks. And Justin Parker is very good.”

In other words, Lana Del Rey is saying she did not do this on her own – but, really, in all the important ways, she did. She had a song that sounded how she felt at last, that represented her in a way that the music that she’d released independently earlier, both as Lana Del Rey and as Lizzy Grant hadn’t. “I wasn’t signed to anybody, but a couple of people had their eye on me. Everybody loved all the big stuff I was writing, but I was at the point where I had written in every style except my own. Now I had.”

With Video Games, she found her bearings. “It showed me a lot about myself, an insight in terms of persistence. I love to exhaust every resource before I get to that right path. But once I settle into myself and learn to trust my own style, I fall naturally into the vein of a singer-songwriter type.”

Del Rey felt her major label debut album materialise. She quickly wrote its title track Born To Die, Blue Jeans and Million Dollar Man. “Then I was like, ‘Got it.’ Racked that album and left all the 167 other songs I’d written in London behind.”

Or so she thought. “Eventually they all got leaked through my Hotmail, which fucking sucked. Cos they weren’t good. And I knew it, objectively.”

A what-can-you-do shrug. Vape. Mango smoke curls upwards beyond her eyes. Then, a smile. “It’s incredible that Video Games won Song Of The Decade. Born To Die [the album] had to sound bigger, but it’s interesting that what was its most quiet moment has won Song Of The Decade. I loved that song.” A nod. “And I still love it.”

On the sleeve of Lana Del Rey’s most recent album, Norman Fucking Rockwell, she is clutching the waist of a handsome young man on board a sailboat decorated with a Stars and Stripes flag, holding out her hand towards the listener. In the background, the Californian skyline is ablaze, as if the big one has finally hit. Come to me, she’s saying, this is your best hope of sanctuary.

In those seven years since Video Games and its parent record Born To Die, Lana Del Rey had made a further three albums before NFR arrived in August, each trying to hone what she is musically, how she writes. But it wasn’t until she met Jack Antonoff, the producer who’s worked with Taylor Swift and Lorde amongst many others, that she teamed up with a writing partner able to work in perfect relief to her.

His virtuoso musicianship and sympathetic ear collided with Del Rey’s melodic flair and once-in-a-lifetime way with a killer line. Together they created a complex, beautiful masterpiece. NFR unfolds lyrically like a great American novel about freedom, identity and the wreckage of the battle of the sexes set in modern-day California, where the stench of pot drenches every street corner and where the thump of distant G-funk mingles with the ghosts of Joni Mitchell and the other Laurel Canyon ’70s soothsayers. All the while the Pacific rolls in, and out, and every day the news cycle nags incessantly about Trump, the climate crises and the big one which is just around the corner…

It establishes Lana Del Rey as one of the truly great American songwriters of the age, perhaps the only one who has managed to distil this decade across an entire album. She’s a galaxy brain of emotional intelligence and cultural insight, armed with a skeleton key for stately melody, and who now has a writing partner with just the right palate to make it explode into Technicolor. You should take that hand she offers on the sleeve.

“It’s an album about coming into one’s own,” she decides. “And choosing to laugh rather than cry.”

This intention is clear from the very first line, she says.

“Probably my favourite line on the album. [she starts to sing it] ‘God damn man child, you fucked me so good I almost said I love you.’ That’s a tough one to sing in front of your dad. And the album ends not on a laugh, but still on a lightness.”

On that final song, Hope Is A Dangerous Thing For A Woman Like Me To Have, she sings of the many reasons why hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like her to have today, before a final echo where she softly insists three times, “But I have it…”

The motives behind these two songs, however, are not just what the album is about alone, clarifies Del Rey.

“Also, hard work. Craftsmanship. True craftsmanship. Eleven-minute songs. Fifteen chord progressions…”

Lana Del Rey raises her eyebrows.

She is already carving out the next chapter of this new imperial phase. In her 20s, she was always looking for songs to write. Now, she’ll write them when she can. Antonoff comes to Los Angeles every month and they’ll meet to see where it takes them. “Sometimes we don’t write, we just talk. And then, if I’m lucky, I’ll get a song a month.”

This next album may come in 2020, it may come in 2021, and it may be called White Hot Forever, or she may change her mind. But it will definitely have a first song and a last song decided before any others.

“I always say that if you have a closer and an opener then you know where you are going,” she explains.

She’d spent four years working on Hope Is A Dangerous Thing For A Woman Like Me To Have before she met Antonoff.

“Not because it was special, but it wasn’t piecing together. So I sang that to Jack a cappella the day I met him and we did Norman the next day. Just a series of chords that he played that I freestyled over. And I thought, ‘I’ve got the first song and I’ve got the 13th song.’ And then I pretty much know what to do in-between, I just don’t know how long it’s going to take. I have the same thing for this next album but it’s actually going to take longer than I want if it’s going to be as good as this one…”

Most importantly, though, she has the outline of the words for the next album. Certainly, if she was a white man holding a guitar and writing words as potent and poetic as she does on NFR, she’d be put on a much higher pedestal.

“They’d say I was like Johnny Cash or something,” she agrees. “It’s the words that make me feel confident about the next one. Every now and then one long phrase will come to me. Like, Hope Is A Dangerous Thing For A Woman Like Me To Have, Will You Still Love Me When I’m No Longer Young And Beautiful… I have no idea where they’re going to go, but objectively I’m, like, ‘Oof, I want to fill it in.’ So I have three of those. One in particular, Let Me Love You Like A Woman, there’s just something about it. I feel like it’s going to be really important, but I don’t know why yet. That’s where the magic comes in.”

It’s during the filling in of these long phrases that Del Rey determines the song’s meaning. Hope Is A Dangerous Thing… was easy to determine. It’s about the toxic masculinity that she’d seen displayed on her journey through musical showbusiness, and her response to it.

“I think it’s dangerous for a woman who is too kind, I really do,” she says. “That’s what it’s about. Hope is a dangerous thing for a woman who is told to bend to whatever comes along because it’s the right thing to do. So it’s less dangerous if you never gave a fuck, but if you care it’s dangerous on seven different levels.” She stops. “Do you agree?”

Kindness is not normally a trait that bad men respect.

“I always say to my male friends that good guys don’t know anything about the bad side of truly bad men.”

This may be true. However, any man who has been on a stag do, or even regularly shared a locker room as part of a team sport, can attest to the fact that even the objectively “good” men can be much worse than one imagines.

Lana Del Rey’s face sets to stone. “Well, they’re the really bad ones. It’s rare to come across someone who’s truly wonderful.”

The room falls momentarily silent. What can we do?

“Write songs about it,” says Lana Del Rey solemnly.

Lana Del Rey spends a lot of time at the wheel of her black pick-up truck, trawling the highways of her adopted state of California out of her base in Los Angeles, heading north towards San Francisco, or south towards San Diego, where she has other nests. Not because she has to, but because she needs to.

“I have to do a lot to keep my feet on the ground,” she explains. “I need to leave to come back. It’s almost like toggling. I have to really get myself out, to get myself back in. I have to toggle myself.”

Practically, this means heavy road-time. “I’ll take a month at a time commuting to Newport. It’s an hour and 20 minutes, at least 80 miles every day. So I’ll drive to Newport and come back the next day. I’ll do yoga, I’ll swim. Then I’ll come back.”

This all leaves a lot of time alone in her car with herself. “I am quite a planner. I figure things out. I’m very much from here,” places one hand on her chest, “to here.” Puts the other hand on her head. She has feelings. She has thoughts. It’s why she needs the yoga and swimming: to stretch those feelings out beyond her chest, out into her toes and fingers.

But as she drives, those feelings and thoughts start to re-emerge and she once again begins to order them. She’ll dictate lyrics and ideas for hours on end, and then she’ll have to torturously unravel them at home. She also “free-writes” every morning and evening on her old typewriter, which requires a lot of untangling before she unearths any nuggets. It’s worth it, she says.

“Jung says that every character in your dream is you,” she explains. “So every morning I wake up and think, ‘Was I the killer and the spider?!’ I’ve heard that dream analysis upon free writing is the only way your psyche can communicate to your conscious self. So if you write, write, write and eventually look at it you think, ‘Why am I writing that?’ There’s definitely something to it.”

She’ll also think about the routing of upcoming tours in her car. She’ll chew over whether she’d like to do just a friends and family circuit, a tour that takes in theatres in unusual places. Alabama. Des Moines. Places that people with multiple worldwide Number 1 albums don’t typically play. But maybe she will. Maybe she will.

“Sometimes I think enough songs have been done. Enough tours. We toured constantly for four years. And we did at least 20 summer shows as well, and our own tours. So now, we can do what we like. We can do anything.”

So when she’s driving and she has an idea about this, or that, she can make it happen. For example, last weekend she did a “friends and family show” at Jones Beach, in New York, the site of the first concert she went to 20 years ago: Bob Dylan and Paul Simon. She invited two old friends who hadn’t seen each other for 21 years to join her, as well, just because she could and thought it would be beautiful. Sean Ono Lennon came on and sang their collaboration Tomorrow Never Came for the first time ever. And, on Leonard Cohen’s birthday, his son Adam sang Leonard’s Chelsea Hotel No 2 with Lana Del Rey. Not a dry eye on Long Island.

“Man, I got to say, that show at Jones Beach has got to be the best show I ever did.” Enthusiastic vape, mango smoke. “It was just a very gentle spirit.”

It got her thinking about who else she can have join her on this tour. Next week at the Hollywood Bowl, Weyes Blood will step up alongside her, as will ’80s heartthrob Chris Isaak “just because I like him.” Joan Baez has been invited to Berkeley. “I hope she comes. Diamonds And Rust is what we have planned to sing. She’s someone I think a lot about in terms of people I want to sing with.” She picks up one of the apples from the fruit bowl.

“It’s a very special time. I’m finally getting to enjoy the fruits of my labour.”

She bites into the apple.

“These are great apples, actually,” she decides. “You should take one for the ride home.”

Before we press that Uber icon again, Donald Trump shows up, as he so often does nowadays.

This August, in response to the mass shootings in El Paso, Texas, and Dayton, Ohio, Del Rey wrote and swiftly released a single, Looking For America. In a landscape noticeably bereft of any protest singles, certainly from big, mainstream stars, Looking For America is powerfully direct. “I’m still looking for my own version of America,” runs the chorus, “One without the gun, where the flag can freely fly.” It signalled that Lana Del Rey is happy to step beneath a spotlight American pop stars tend to shun.

The day that we meet, the Trump impeachment festival is in full swing on all the news channels. Del Rey asks what the latest from CNN is. She’s happy that some legal norms still function.

“Nobody is above the law and you can’t obstruct justice,” she notes. “It’s not just because you’re an asshole.”

The Trump era has been helpfully revealing, she says.

“What I like about it is that it’s mirroring our tiny microcosms. It’s so-what culture. ‘I fucked you over? So what? I’m going to run away with your money anyway.’ Trump is reflective of that culture. I mean, he was elected. And it’s no coincidence that it is all happening at this late stage of our climate crises. Again, that’s why I like Hope Is A Dangerous Thing, because the people at the forefront of fighting climate change are so lovely. Do people listen to lovely voices? Yeah, yeah, we’ll cut emissions in 10, 20, 30 years’ time.”

And yet, she says, that the more unhinged the world becomes, the more creatively stimulated she feels. “It’s definitely no coincidence that I’m gaining clarity in the midst of crises. I think chaos brings that: lots of ‘good to know’ moments. Like, ‘Oh! That entire group of people feel the same way? I had no idea.’ It’s a time for concerted effort. If just the needle could shift, be it in terms of the climate crises or impeachment. Then, it’s a question of the damage done, culturally and environmentally.”

The time has come to press that Uber app. Where are we headed, asks Del Rey. To a hotel called Dream, opposite a bar, Black Rabbit Rose, which makes a cameo on a song on Norman Fucking Rockwell, Happiness Is A Butterfly: “Hollywood and Vine, Black Rabbit in the alley/I just wanna hold you down the avenue…”

“Black Rabbit has a magic show every Wednesday,” she says, ruefully. “Been a while since I’ve been, but I do like Hollywood and Vine. I don’t get stopped there, unlike the younger areas.”

Her biggest foe are the paparazzi.

“I’ll have quiet months, then all of a sudden I’ll be at lunch and they’ll be there and I’ll be like [gasps]. It still surprises me. It’s like waking up from a dream. ‘What are we doing here again? I was just at a taco truck, and now what the fuck?’”

She says that when she feels uprooted by fame, either by paparazzi or just by fans coming too close while grocery shopping, she can call her friends, “Sarah, Jen or Anne, and be, like, ‘You are not going to believe what happened, and who I was with, and now they will never speak to me again.’ Because it’s unusual if you are with someone and they get surprised by it too. It’s slightly alarming.”

She shrugs, and laughs.

“Living the dream!”

No way out now.

“There’s a way out,” she says firmly. “Yes, there is. I know it. I see it. Out of the corner of my left eye, I have a rabbit hole. But you know what it entails is not working. No promoting. So it’s hard, but you could make a lifestyle change. I’ve seen people do it, sometimes not intentionally.”

We step out on to the verandah. Del Rey reveals she did actually know about the Song Of The Decade award: she was so touched, in fact, that she organised her own photo and video shoot for us to use this morning in this very house. We deserve it. “I mean, Song Of The Decade? Come on!”

As we stand admiring the view and the beautiful houses of Laurel Canyon, a woman appears at the window opposite. She is fresh from the shower and clearly naked. “Ooops,” says Lana Del Rey, almost involuntarily, and pulls back inside the house. “I saw boob! I do not want to get caught looking into strangers’ bathrooms.”

Oh look, there’s our ride. A handshake, a wave and away we go back down to the grime of Hollywood Boulevard.

A week later, an email arrives. A friend of a friend was just at an Afrobeat night at a club in San Francisco, the evening before Lana Del Rey’s big show in nearby Berkeley.

As the music and lights swirled on the dancefloor, our correspondent spotted a familiar face in a booth outside the floor. Emboldened by the night’s rush, she approached Lana Del Rey.

“I love your music,” she told her, and “I’m coming to see you perform tomorrow. I often listen to you before I go out,” she added. “I listened to you tonight even.”

“That’s so funny,” replied Lana. “The person I listen to before going out is here tonight with me too,” she said, pointing to the middle of floor. “We’re actually singing together tomorrow.”

There, frugging energetically in the midst of the throng on the dancefloor, was 78-year-old songwriting legend and activist Joan Baez.

And, in that booth, Lana Del Rey smiled joyfully. She’s living the dream. Finally enjoying the fruits of her labour.

Originally published in the December 2019 issue of Q Magazine with the headline Her Majesty.

[greysmassive]

Yed lasso cast

Yed lasso cast series#

Season 2's first episode premiered on this date, with new instalments releasing every Friday after that. It’s what Ted would want.Ted Lasso season 2 launched on Friday, July 23. And be sure to eat some shortbread while you watch. You can watch Ted Lasso on AppleTV+ if you’ve subscribed for $4.99 per month, and you can cancel at any time. Knowing this might be the last season for Ted Lasso, now is the time to catch up on the first two seasons. As far as what happens after that, who knows? I don't know.” Where can you watch Ted Lasso? “I'm glad that they are willing to pay for those three seasons. Sudeikis, who is also an executive producer of the show, has said that Season 3 could well be the last for Ted Lasso based on the story arc, “the story that's being told - that three-season arc - is one that I see, know, and understood,” Sudeikis told Entertainment Weekly in June.

Yed lasso cast series#

In January, Sudeikis won his second Golden Globe for Best Television Actor in a Musical/Comedy Series for his portrayal of the endearing coach, and as the Screen Actors’ Guild Awards nominations were announced, the series was tagged for an ensemble cast SAG award as well as several others. Ted Lasso isn’t just winning Emmys, of course. This time around, Ted Lasso was nominated for 20 Emmys including Outstanding Comedy Series, Outstanding Writing, and Outstanding Acting nods for nearly every returning cast member of the series. In 2022, it’s more of the same old massive success again. The crew nabbed seven Emmys in total, one for Outstanding Lead Actor in a Comedy for Sudeikis, Outstanding Supporting Actress in a Comedy for Hannah Waddingham, and Outstanding Comedy Series to name a few. In 2021, the show won three Emmys for sound mixing and single-camera picture editing, and outstanding casting, and was nominated for 17 more. If Emmy nominations and wins are any sort of barometer for a show’s success, Ted Lasso is a hit. Still no confirmation on when the season will drop on Apple TV+. went on to share the post, confirming that the third season is going into production. In January 2022, Brendan Hunt (Coach Beard himself) shared a post on Instagram where both he and Sudeikis were boarding a small plane with the caption, “Here we go.” Warner Bros. ‘Ted Lasso’ has started production on Season 3. Perhaps they’re waiting for their colossal Emmy haul before making any announcement. Production has already begun, per Collider, with many of the main cast members having signed new contracts for the show, but no word on an official release date for the third (and possibly final) season. The third season of Ted Lasso was reportedly scheduled to drop sometime in late summer 2022, but that does not appear to be the case. What will happen in Season 3? It’s too soon to tell, but we know it’s coming. Throughout the first two seasons, Lasso works on making the team better and building relationships. Lasso, who has left behind a son and a wife in the U.S., has no idea, and comes in with high spirits despite the fact that almost no one wants him there, least of all the team or the fans. Welton is going through an acrimonious split with her ex-husband, and she has an ulterior motive hiring Lasso she wants AFC Richmond to lose badly to humiliate her ex. Saturday Night Live alum Sudeikis is at his most charming as college football coach Ted Lasso, who has moved to London to take over coaching AFC Richmond, a soccer team owned by Rebecca Welton (played by Hannah Waddington). I think it has a lot to do with his secret shortbread cookie recipe and the stellar supporting cast, but that’s just an educated guess.įor those of you who haven’t seen either of the first two seasons of Ted Lasso, you are in for a treat. Even those of us who are not exactly sports fans can’t get enough of Ted Lasso. Apparently we all wanted to watch a show about a good-natured football coach moving to England to become a soccer (British football) coach and figure out life across the pond. No wonder Ted Lasso will be back for a third season. The show hits this great sweet spot of being endearing and funny and weirdly sentimental without being snarky or condescending. Jason Sudeikis and the rest of the Ted Lasso crew have really pulled off a miracle with their hit series.

[diviner-alva]

3/30 - The way she accepts him

Well if you are familiar with my rambles and ted talks, you've seen me talking about how Kotallo was the first person Aloy accepted at least twice. The first posts might seem a little repetitive I know but we're just warming up for the follow up boys.

We see that she didn't just accepted him, but she straight up forced him to come along and help her take down the Bulwark, even though we know perfectly well she could easily have done it by herself. Yet she wanted his company, why? It's hard to say for sure, but I think it might have been because making Tekotteh suck it up was something she wanted Kotallo to have a part in, she knows too well how it feels to be humiliated and sneered at for something that's not your fault, I think that maybe she wanted Kotallo to be the one to put Tekotteh in his place, and he did with the "So send them now unless your word means nothing", "I didn't hear you". But who knows what she was actually thinking when she said that (your thoughts are more than welcomed in the comments, I like seeing different opinions because they drive me to reformulate mine).

About the cannon scene (hehe I will sneak that scene anywhere I can, as I should because it is pure gold) Aloy could've carried that cannon by herself, if you ever fight a tremortusk and remove the plasma cannon aloy will walk with it, slower than him yes, but she can carry it. But even if she couldn't, they could make her strap it on the back of a charger. The point is, she let him carry it for her, because she knew he needed to prove it to her and himself (but the way Aloy is, I was expecting her to be "I need no man to carry stuff for me", so tell me Aloy what was your goal here, you seemed very impressed with his strength for a minute there).

And finally the moment we all fell in love with Kotallo (I mean if you haven't already by the "That was an unkind comparison" or "I have a strong back" so let's say that this cemented the love) when he pledged his life to her, not her cause, her. He had no idea what was her mission, her goal, her obstacles and he threw himself fully at it anyway, this is mostly because she was so supportive of him during the bulwark, as I mentioned in the previous post. And you see the first reply she comes up is "but Hekarro needs you" she doesn't say "you don't know what I have to do" "this isn't a fight that can be won with martial prowess", she either never doubted that he would handle the focus just fine or she just wanted him with her since the beginning. She knows Hekarro needs his marshals, Kotallo being the most experienced of them, so she at first asks if Hekarro needs him, which of course he does but she's worried he is being sent away, discarded after the kulrut was done and more marshals were promoted, that's why Kotallo answers "It is what I choose". And after that she has no complaints, she just embraces his help and support so fully that I just think it's beautiful, they know what it is to be shunned and perhaps that's what made her just want to take him away from his tribe and along with her.

And the last one is a farewell at the base, I rarely see Aloy's voice so soft, he doesn't force his help upon her, just says that he's there if she needs, giving her space and independence, he believes she's more than capable on her own. He knows if it were with him, he wouldn't like people forcing themselves to help either, even before his arm, tenakth don't usually accept help after all. That deep mutual understanding they have is what's beautiful, is what made her answer sound so soft and thankful, that's what made be include it because I just think it's beautiful.

---

<- Previous post "2/30 -The way she admires him"

-> Next up "4/30 - The way they smile to each other"

[crymeariveronceagain]

River's Thoughts after reading Lodestar again:

Wow did this book rip your brain out and stab it

also i highkey had a mini breakdown in the middle of this book, took a break and read a comfort book, and then went back to reading it today. So like. Yeah, progress?

Literally this has been the most sophitz up to this point and do you know what? Keefe is still a better love interest. I could write an essay on how Shannon is making us want Sokeefe unconsciously. Everything she does, every good moment we get with Fitz, it is always overshadowed with a love for Keefe. Shannon is making us think about Keefe at every single moment of this book. And it's like she specifically doesn't want us to focus on Fitz's newfound feelings for Soph.

I'm not afraid to say it. Sophie Foster loves Keefe. So much. It's apparent in every way she interacts with him. It's obvious in every way she comforts, every way she screams, every way her heart is caught up in him and his wellbeing and him him him him him. Sure, it's not the healthiest atm, what with the world falling to pieces and the trauma both of them are steadily living through, but holy mother trucker like a butcheek on a stick do those two love each other. Keefe is literally willing to do absolutely anything and everything for her, at the cost of himself, and she is willing to do anything and everything to protect him. My stars. These idiots got a whole fandom of middle schoolers up in arms over what was obvious from book five. They love each other, madly, desperately, and hopelessly. And sooner or later, they're gonna have to look each other in the eyes and face that fact.

my copy of lodestar is falling apart

i'd like to take a moment to tell my ex that he can go screw himself because that's not how you treat a lady's books.

Screw you, PJM. You know who you are, asshat.

Mr. Forkle went straight back to dehumanizing Sophie. Like, he took a break from it in Neverseen, but in this book, she is a weapon, a creation, a project, everything in between. No one thinks she's real. She's just a piece of a greater plan. And Mr. Forkle does not shy away from telling her so. At the end of the book, during the Summit, he has the actual gall to act like she's taken control of herself like, no, idiot, you raised her like this. You created this. You made this. You designed this. You may not be pulling the strings anymore but this little girl was still designed to be your puppet.

Gethen is the best Neverseen Member, I love every scene with him in it, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk, I'll be here all weekend.

Brant is... so very. Much. All of the time.

Oh, my stars, I have so many problems with the Enhancing ability you don't even understand. Like, literally, strip her freedom away more why don'tcha. This was just an asinine move in every way. Don't give your weapon something like this. Don't design her this way. Don't be an idiot, sure, she may be an asset to you, now, but she's an asset to everyone else, around her. Like, once anyone knows that she's got this power, it's game over. They literally just capture her and force her to hold their hands like she's some kind of toy. Battle won instantaneously.

Oh, Sokeefe, how I love thee, let me count the quotes I've underlined with such captions as "t h e m".

I tried there's too many.

Okay, but the thing is that Linh literally throws herself backwards when she finds out Sophie's an enhancer. Linh's terrified of this new ability. Grady hates it. Like, does no one else see the downfall of making Sophie dangerous to the touch? Like, this poor girl is already so affection-starved, we're just gonna take it all from her???

EDALINE!!!!!! SO AMAZING!!! I'D KILL AND DIE FOR HER!!!! LOOK AT MY MOMMA BEAR GO AT THE END OF THIS BOOK SLAY QUEEN.

Keefe is just so traumatized. And everyone's like, "clearly, he's evil" and sophie is like "no, he's flipping traumatized" and everyone's like "what's trauma lmao" and sophie's like "im not a psychologist but i feel like it's when bad happens" and everyone's like "nah let's not take that into account" like what don't be idiots this is a kid without a support system not the evil spawn of satan

Actually Grady calling Keefe "That Boy" is disgusting, it's the first thing I've strongly disliked that Grady does, and I'm never going to be over how quickly everyone in this fandom just took the nickname and decided it was a joke, instead of how Grady says that Keefe doesn't deserve to be referred to by a name at all, and says he'll have to earn his own name back. Like, ehe, no, Dad of mine, please be kind to the poor kid.

Grady was honestly pretty out of character in this book. I love the guy but jeepers someone tell him the separation between violence and the elven mind is imaginary and created by society and let him go batshit crazy on every single person in the lost cities who hurt his daughter, and also let him stick up for Keefe and see the similarities between Keefe and Jolie, doing dangerous things for the people they love, and all that.

if i have to hear one more thing about how the neverseen distract from the problem and the black swan doesn't im going to start hitting people(probably forkle)

council is so bloody fricked lmao there's no way they're making it out of this book series with any sort of governmental claim over actually literally anything

Oralie is so very Sophie's mom it's kind of startling to look back and see. Like, even Sophie expects Oralie to be her mom.

Okay, I'm sorry, but the way the Neverseen knew how everything was going to go down seems Deus Ex. Not even going to lie. I feel like it was something that Shannon needed to happen and so she just lined up the dominos. It feels very Deus Ex. Or, *coff coff* Neverseen Alden.

Oh, how I want to slap Gisela Sencen hard enough that her pea-sized brains rattle in her ginormous skull made out of her own ego.

I love how the fandom highkey forgets actively how much of a complete psycho Fintan is. Like, we all just see flamboyant arsonist and make grabby hands while canon Fintan is sitting in the corner talking to himself about blood and how pretty your skin is.

Y'know, I actually am beginning to think that Gisela would be the parent who would actually get around to hurting Keefe. I seriously think that Cassius wouldn't hurt his kid. Maybe if really angry, but not purposefully, or with intent to punish or harm. I think Gisela would. Like, if one of the two adults actually ever hit Keefe, ever actively used it as a punishment and did it more out of "this is the only way you'll learn" I honestly feel like it would be Gisela. Hmm. Time to write a fic about Keefe experiencing some severe physical pain and having no clue why. Or why he's flinching so bad at nothing when he can't remember anything coming at him like that. Because Gisela definitely gets his mind washed often.

"Did they just admit they're training us to kill" yes. They are. Get over it, Sophie. It's just a little violence. You went to exilium. You've got this handled.

Oh, my gosh, the way the Song parents makes me want to claw my skin off. That's just... that's so accurate as to how awful parents are around the public eye. They're just... good people, would never hurt their kids, so sad they've lost out on things, and yeah. Like, it's just something I never picked up on before. Tam and Linh are severely traumatized by their parents. And in the first scene you meet them, the Songs are nice people. Reasonable. Their children ran away. Don't you feel bad for them?

No, I sure the heck don't. <3

Fitz listens to his dad's secret conversations. No thoughts, just a comment.

Emperess Pernille and Oralie are best friends someone please write me a fic

Okay I have so many thoughts about the end of Lodestar i don't even think i want to write them in this post because it's just so very much to think about

i suppose i can try to summarize?

every other species(sans gnomes) commits murder under elven standards.

the summit was right to listen to Fintan Pyren.

The Council and The Black Swan do not listen to the Neverseen and try to fight them without knowing what they want, really.

Fintan says the problem is humans, but talks like they are really the solution, the catalyst, the final piece to the puzzle, the way to connect all the dots.

anyways this book screwed with my head and i equally never want to touch a volume again and immediately begin Nightfall just so i can kiss Keefe full on the mouth for existing in person again.

[mandoalorian]

I Believe In Love [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader] — One: Direction

Summary: When you find your calling to leave Themyscira, you venture out to the World of Man with intentions of helping and healing a very specific person's relationship with his son. You've heard his voice before, but only in dreams. You've felt his pain and anguish and you've never been able to relate to anything more. But things don't come easy for you, and they certainly don't come easy for him either. [This series contains spoilers for WW84 and is my interpretation of what happens after the movie ends].

Taglists (let me know if you wish to be added!)—

Permanent: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth

I Believe In Love: @mrschiltoncat @thebloodrobin @greatvaluedazzler @bxxbxy @marydjarin @the-feckless-wonder @typicalnerd98 @biharryjames @thwiso

Rating: 15+

Word count: 4,700>

Masterlist

Previous - One - Next

"I wish to travel to the world of man," you announced with a deep breath and a confident smile. Hippolyta looked at you and laughed. Her Amazonian guards copied the actions of their queen and burst into a fit of giggles that made you feel like a silly small child.

"And where has this outburst come from?" Hippolyta asked with a quirked eyebrow as she folded her arms across her chest. The laughing slowly quietened down as she waited for a response.

"I've been having these dreams," you began to explain hesitantly. Hippolyta leaned forward in her throne and looked at you quizzically, making a small gesture with her hand that urged you to continue. "I've been seeing death and destruction, I've been watching the world of man crumble…"

"You want to travel to a collapsing society? Don't be foolish, that doesn't sound safe. Why leave the beautiful walls of Themyscira to travel to the world of man?" You had heard stories about the world of man and how it was filled with greed and corruption. Themyscira was peaceful. It wasn't that you wanted to leave, it was that you knew deep in your heart that your time had come.

Hippolyta was right. You looked around the palace that you had stepped foot in, the marble floor under your toes and the gold intricate details that patterned across the walls. "You let Diana." you mumbled under your breath, turning away from the queen and beginning to walk towards the double doors that you had entered through, ready to leave the palace.

"What was that?" Hippolyta asked, rising to her feet. You opened your mouth to answer but an excruciating pain shot through your head— and that's when you heard him. You heard his voice again. His pain. It wasn't just in your dreams anymore… you could feel him like he was there, with you, like he was part of you. You screamed and fell to your knees as tears spilled from your eyes, your fingers clenching into a fist so hard your knuckles turned white. The pain was so intense and you heard his words over and over again. Hippolyta ran over to you, sinking down to your level and cradling your weeping body in her arms. She called your name. "What is it?"

"He's calling for me," you choked back a sob. "The world of man is in grave danger."

"From who?" Hippolyta questioned, wiping your tears away as you tried to regulate your own erratic breathing.

"I don't know, but I must help." you gasped. "I must help him. Please allow me to go." you grabbed Hippolyta's arms and looked at her with pleading eyes. "You allowed Diana."

"Diana was a fighter, our best one," Hippolyta said slowly, shaking her head at the memory of her daughter. "You are not a fighter." She said the four words matter of factory but her denial made your anger rifle through your body.

"Maybe I can win this without fighting," you sobbed. "Yes, I have no training. I do not use a sword or a shield, but my mother taught me that battles can be won if we just use our heart. If we love." you felt like you were begging as you recalled Hestia's words to you. Your Themysciran tribe were of a peaceful nature, and although small, your leader, Aphrodite, preached about the power of love.

"Olympus and Eurydice loved and what happened to them?" Hippolyta scolded, her question rhetorical. You recalled the story in the back of your mind and winced, knowing their fate. "We are Amazonians. If the world of men needs saving, then Diana will save them. Go home my child, I forbid you from leaving Themyscira."

Your heart broke. You couldn't believe that Hippolyta was confining you to the walls of Themyscira. She didn't understand. She couldn't understand. It was only once in a turn of centuries did an Amazonian connect with someone from the outside world— and now, you had. You had made that connection, but Hippolyta forbade you from acting upon it. You composed yourself as you stormed out of the palace and hurried down the stone steps. Tightening the buckles on your gladiator sandals, you wiped your furious tears away and took a deep breath as the anger consumed you.

It wasn't fair. You had spent your childhood studying the world of man, learning about them and their ways. Nobody had cared more about helping others than you. Your desire to care for those around you came from your very own purpose. When Zeus sculpted you in his own image, he made you goddess of home and hearth. He gave you your abilities for a reason. Amazonian's outside your tribe shamed you for your kind and compassionate heart— telling you it was a weakness more than a strength. They belittled you and made you feel unworthy. As you remembered your childhood trauma, you pulled out your hair from your tiara. You lived on Themyscira your whole life but it never truly felt like home. You always craved for something more.

You ran home. You ran as fast as your feet could carry you, letting your tears fall and your screams of anguish echo through the Themsycrian forests. It wasn't fair. What did Hippolyta expect you to do? Deal with this for the rest of your life. How could you not help the man who's pain was destroying his very soul? The Gods had connected you and him for a reason. You had to go. You had to.

As soon as you arrived home you broke down. Your mother heard your cries and found you in the garden, picking at the native Themysciran flowers as your salty tears dropped on the lilac coloured petals. "Hippolyta denied your request?" Hestia asked, sitting on the wall next to you. You nodded sadly. "Sweet child, tell me more about these dreams. About this...man."

You didn't see the point now that you knew you wouldn't be able to leave Themyscira. But Hestia was your mother and you loved her dearly, and so you took a shaky exhale and done your very best to explain. "It feels like I've known him forever, like he's always been a part of me," you admitted. "But— I don't even know his name." you shrugged helplessly and cracked a small smile, listening to how pathetic you must've sounded. Maybe Hippolyta had a point. "I don't even know how he looks. Even if I did venture to the world of man, how could I possibly find him?"

Hestia sighed, unclipping her lasso from her tunic and wrapping it carefully around your wrist. You looked up at your mother, your eyes comically wide as the lasso glowed yellow. "Close your eyes, my child," Hestia whispered. "See him. See the truth."

You closed your eyes and let your soul space away as the lasso transported your mind to elsewhere. To him— the man of your dreams.

"Alistair?" Maxwell cleared his throat, his son's head snapping in the direction of his father. "That was your mother. She wants you home." Maxwell pointed aimlessly back at the telephone.

"But daddy, you promised the whole weekend together!" Alistair's eyes began to well up with tears. Maxwell ran to his son's side, his heart aching at the sight of disappointment and he pulled Alistair into his chest.

"I know, and I will keep my word," he hushed Alistair, smoothing out his hair. "Don't worry." Alistair nuzzled his face into Maxwell's dress shirt, sniffing in fear of losing his father again. There was a few beats of silence as Maxwell's brain ticked like clockwork, trying to work out what his ex wife's intentions were. "Does your mother… does she ever talk about me?" Maxwell asked hesitantly, unsure if he was about to regret the question.

"I hear her, sometimes. I hear her talk about you to Ted," Alistair admitted, referencing his mother's new boyfriend. Maxwell hummed, still stroking his son's hair. He wondered whether or not he should ask Alistair what exactly she said, but decided against it, not wanting to hurt his son anymore than he already had. He knew that Juliana had nothing good to say about Maxwell.

"Ted? I thought he liked to be called Theodore," Maxwell chuckled, rolling his eyes and Alistair giggled back. Max and Alistair would often joke about how pretentious Ted could be.

"Well now he wants me to call him dad," Alistair sighed, too young to understand the implications of that revelation. Maxwell's heart broke. Of course Juliana wanted her son to call her new boyfriend 'dad'. She got Alistair on the weekdays and Maxwell got him on the weekends, it was more than likely he saw Ted more than he saw Max, and Max knew for certain that Juliana's hatred was fueled further with his every breath. The prolonged silence urged Alistair to speak up. "But I told mom I won't."

"You did?" Maxwell smiled sadly. "Why?"

"Because you're my dad!" Alistair grinned. "And you'll always be my dad, no matter what."

Maxwell couldn't bring himself to reply. His stomach twisted into knots as he thought about Julianna's words over the phone. "You do not deserve him. I don't want you anywhere near my son ever again."

He knew the level of determination his ex wife possessed and if this meant she wanted sole custody of Alistair then Maxwell knew there would be very little that would stop her. He had messed up bad this time. Alistair felt tiny in Max's arms, but Max knew his son's heart was huge and filled with unconditional love. But the worry and guilt consumed him. How could Max possibly fight and win this case— after everything that had happened? He didn't even have the money for good lawyers. Maxwell whispered an incoherent 'I love you' into the crook of Alistair's neck, his shutting as a tear slipped down his cheek.

Your own eyes snapped open, your chest heaving and panting as the lasso of truth unravelled itself from your wrist. "What did you see?" Hestia asked, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Did you see the man of your dreams?"

You tried to process everything. "I didn't see him," you whispered feeling defeated. "But I heard his voice. And I learned his name. He's a father and he's afraid of losing his son," you explained, taking in everything you had learned. "And his son is afraid of losing his father."

"When you awoke last night, what did you hear?" Hestia asked.

"He was crying. He said he renounced his wish. I've been struggling to understand what exactly that means but…" you closed your eyes, remembering the dream like it was a perfect painting illustrating the patterns of your memory.

Hestia smiled wearily. "I always prayed to the Gods that you would not be chosen. My dear child, I love you so much, but it's clear that this man needs your help. You're the goddess of home and hearth, and Zeus blessed you with the ability to bring families together and that is your purpose. To live a life without serving your purpose— who would you be?"

"It doesn't matter," you sighed sadly, rubbing your eyes. "Hippolyta won't allow me to leave." you reminded your mother.

"I can help you leave Themyscira," Hestia cupped the side of your face with your hand, her thumb brushing over the height of your cheekbone. "But if you are to help this man there is something you must know."

"What is it?" you asked your mother, your eyes beckoning for answers.

"There were once two brothers; Romulus and Dolos. Their entities combined were a force of pure evil, but the brothers left Olympus to go to the world of man. When they left, Zeus gave them two magical citrine stones, and the brothers practiced their powers on the stones. Dolos went to a place called Greece, where Romulus travelled to Italy and built the city of Rome. Not much is known about the stones, but now, only one remains. We don't know which one or where it is, but it's dangerous."

"Why are you telling me this?" you furrowed your eyebrows together in bewilderment.

"The stones are indestructible, unless the power of the stone is harnessed by a person themselves. Then, the entity of the stone vanishes but the power lives in the person. The power of wish granting. If he has renounced his wish, that means…"

"...he's had a wish granted," you clicked on to what your mother was saying. "How do I find out which stone has been destroyed?"

"You need to find the man of your dreams and ask him who granted his wish," Hestia explained. "You must destroy the final dreamstone."

"But why?" You quizzed, your shoulders falling limp as you took in this abundance of information.

"Because Romulus and Dolos are the God of Lies." Hestia whispered, her hands falling from your shoulders as she clipped the lasso back to her tunic.

Your heart sank into your chest as the revelation hit you. "The God of Lies?" you repeated.

"If you go to the world of man then your purpose must be more than just helping this man and his son," Hestia told you. "You must find the final dreamstone and destroy it."

"How can I destroy the God of Lies?" you shook your head furiously. "No, nuh-uh, not happening. I can't even fight. I don't have any weapons— never trained. I can't do it. I can't." you scowled, standing up and brushing down your Amazonian dress, turning away from your mother. You felt her hand grab your shoulder.

"Remember what I taught you, my child. Battles can be won through the power of love," Hestia smiled. "If I didn't think you were worthy, then I wouldn't be allowing my only daughter to travel to the world of man. But I am because I believe in you. And I believe in love."

***

Maxwell couldn't focus on the video game anymore, shuffling around uncomfortably at the mere thought that Juliana and Ted could be on their way to collect Alistair for themselves. "Hey, how about we get some fresh air?" Maxwell asked, nudging Alistair playfully. "I think there are still some 4th of July celebrations happening in the park."

Alistair grinned ecstatically. "Really daddy? We haven't been to the park since… since… you were still with mommy!"

Maxwell scrunched up his nose and brushed off his sons comment. "Go grab your coat, okay?" he urged and Alistair bolted out the living room and into his bedroom.

Maxwell caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. No amount of biotin was going to rid the dark circles from under his eyes. At least he had his health restored, but he hadn't thought of the implications of utilizing the government's multinational broadcasting service.

Every single citizen of the world had seen Maxwell. Knew him by name, by face. Maxwell had no idea how people were going to react upon seeing him again. He contemplated a disguise, but figured the best he could do was roll up his shirt sleeves to his elbows and brush out any hair product from his dark blonde locks. At least he wasn't wearing his signature tailored suit and ties. On the surface, he could just be mistaken for an ordinary guy. Maxwell Lord had never wanted to blend into society this much in his life.

The memory of how power corrupt he had become before Diana had saved him struck his heart like a dagger of guilt. But he couldn't regret. He had to think forward and think to the future if he wanted to change his errors.

Maxwell jumped when Alistair took hold of his father's hand and pulled him to the door. "Hey, let me help you zip your coat up." Maxwell smiled, kneeling down and making sure Alistair would be warm enough.

By the time they arrived at the park, it was as if nothing had happened. It was like the world had returned back to the way it was before all the death and destruction. Children squealed merrily as they played on the swing sets, families sat on the grassy fields eating picnics and vendors were serving hot dogs, burgers and cotton candy.

"Why don't you go play with the kids over there?" Maxwell pointed towards a group of children standing by the slide. "Daddy just needs a moment to himself, but then I'll come play. I promise." Max kissed Alistair on the forehead and Alistair nodded understandingly before racing off into the playpark.

Maxwell scratched the back of his head and took in the cool Summer air as evening began to dawn. He looked around at the happy families and figured it was something he could get used to. He imagined living a peaceful life outside of the spotlight. No fame, no money, just him and Alistair. But things didn't come easy for Maxwell Lord.

You woke up in a muddy puddle under a tree, groaning as the brown dirt stuck to your arms and legs. You looked down at your dress and tunic, thankful that the leather material could be washed easily. You smelt something unfamiliar yet distinct, your nostrils twitching as the scent of burgers and hotdogs from the vending vans engulfed you.

The screams of children alerted you and you looked over at the playpark, watching intently as the kids laughed and danced around. There wasn't many children back on Themyscira, but being the goddess of home and hearth; it filled your heart with joy and happiness.

You slowly walked over to the playpark, looking around at your awe inspiring surroundings. So this was the world of man? You beamed upon seeing the swans in the duck pond and the beautiful flowers that grew around the stone path you walked upon.

It was mesmerising, but your delight was cut short when you heard a thud followed by a child's cry. You looked over to see that, not too far away, a group of children had pushed a young boy to the ground. The boy fumbled to get to his feet but the children circled around him, pointing and calling him names. You walked over to the crowd of children and placed your hands on your hips. "Excuse me?" you called out and watched as the kids stiffened up and their circle disbanded. They ran away, shooting you a strange look before you could even say anything else. You extended your arm and helped the little boy to his feet. "Are you okay?" you asked, kneeling down to mirror his short height. The boy nodded sadly, his dark eyes glazed with tears. "What's your name?"

"Alistair." the boy mumbled, his cheeks heating up with embarrassment.

"That's a beautiful name," you gleamed before introducing yourself. Alistair smiled at the compliment.

"I like your costume," he pointed excitedly. "Are you a princess?" he pointed at your tiara which held back your hair.

"Something like that," you shrugged with a small laugh. "Are you here alone?"

"No, I came with my daddy." Alistair informed you, looking around as he tried to locate his father. Your gaze followed his and you watched the young child begin to panic as he couldn't find him anywhere.

"You can't see him?" you asked with an empathetic frown. Alistair burst into tears, holding his head in his hands. "Hey don't cry!" You pulled the child into you and hugged him tightly. "He won't be far. Come on, let me help you look for him."

"He-, he always leaves," Alistair sobbed and your eyes widened slightly. "But this time- this time he promised. No more leaving."

"You must believe in your father, okay?" you whispered, pulling Alistair's hands away from his face and wiping his tears. "Tell me, what does he look like?"

Alistair sniffed and grabbed onto your hand for support. "Strong," Alistair smiled. "Really really cool. Best dad in the world." you chuckled at Alistar's words, and how he had described his father's personality rather than his physical appearance.

"Do you remember what he was wearing?" you quizzed as you and Alistair exited the playpark and back down the stone path.

"Umm, a white shirt and grey pants," Alistair recalled. "He's on the television sometimes."

You furrowed your eyebrows together. "Television?" you asked curiously and Alistair nodded before gasping.

"Look! There he is!" Alistair screamed, pointing across the road into a store window, at a man with golden coloured hair and chocolate brown eyes. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you took in his appearance. The man shook his fists and nodded his head, grinning enthusiastically.

"That man on the screen over there?" you tilted your head as Allistair squeezed your hand and dragged you out of the park, across the road, and over to the shop.

"Yep, that's daddy!"

"Welcome to the future, life is good, but it can be better. And why shouldn't it be? Everything you've ever dreamed of is right at our fingertips. But are you reaping the awards? Do you have it all? Welcome to Black Gold Cooperative, the first oil company run for the people, by the people. Think about finally having everything you've always wished for. For a low monthly fee, you can own a piece of the most lucrative industry in the world. And everytime we strike gold, you strike gold! No matter who you are, no matter what you do, you deserve to have it all. Do you have everything you've always wanted? Aren't you tired of wishing you had more? Join me today. You don't need a pile of money or some business degree to get started. You don't even have to work hard for it. At Black Gold Cooperative all you need is to want it."

You were so hypnotized by the man's business scheme, you didn't even notice Alistair disappear. Your eyes widened as you looked around, desperately trying to find him. You called his name a few times, hoping he wasn't far.

Maxwell tugged on Alistair's arm and dragged him around a corner. "What are you doing?" Max hissed and Alistair looked away from his father nervously. "You don't talk to strangers, do you understand me?"

"I couldn't find you in the park, she was helping me look for you." Alistair explained, his voice timid.

"So why were you out of the park, huh? Standing outside a television store watching one of my-" Maxwell sighed. "-one of my infomercials?"

"I wanted to show her what you looked like," Alistair frowned. "I'm sorry daddy."

Maxwell leaned down and kissed his son's forehead. "It's okay, just please don't do that again, alright? This world is full of bad, dangerous people. You need to be careful." Maxwell said and Alistair nodded his head. Max slid his hand into Alistair's and walked him back into the park. "So, who was that woman anyway?" Maxwell asked, quirking his eyebrow.

Maxwell had barely managed to get a glimpse of you, but if your short warrior tunic was anything to go off, he figured you were someone hired to be in costume for one of the 4th of July celebrations. He didn't see your face, only the back of your head, but in the split second he saw you, he admired the way your hair gleamed under the amber setting sunlight and the shape of your body, how your dress sculpted it perfectly. He shook away the thoughts, reaching into his pocket and taking out his wallet as he approached an ice cream vendor.

"She was nice," Alistair smiled as he looked at the ice cream menu painting on the side of the van. "She told me she was a princess and she helped me." Alistair recalled the way his bullies ran away when you had come over.

"Helped you how?" Maxwell quizzed, pulling out a few dollar bills.

Alistair stiffened up, not wanting to tell his father about the bullies. He was afraid Max would be ashamed of him for not sticking up for himself. "Can I get a raspberry sundae?" Alistair asked his dad, brushing off his initial question. Maxwell nodded his head and slid the cash over to the vendor who began to prepare the ice cream.

"Hey, I'm looking for my friend Alistair?" you were asking plenty of people wandering the streets of DC the same question. "Do you know where Alistair is?"

Some people would reply with, "Alistair who?", but most people would look you up and down with disdain and hurry away. You wondered why nobody else was dressed like you, and why nobody knew who Alistair was. Back on Themyscira, everyone had their own individual, unique name and everyone knew who everyone was. You frowned. It clearly wasn't like that in the world of man. You needed a different tactic. You thought back to Alistair's description of his father and tried to remember the words he spoke on the television. "Welcome to Black Gold Cooperative."

"Do you know where Black Gold Cooperative is?" you asked an aging lady who was walking along the sidewalk.

She, like everyone else, looked you up and down in bewilderment. "The headquarters?" she asked. "East Avenue, about a ten minute walk away."

"Which direction?" you prodded further.

The woman blinked. "East." she repeated.

"Thank you." you smiled, curtseying politely before setting off to find this mysterious place that the man on the television spoke so highly of. If he was really Alistair's father, then maybe you could find Alistair there and ensure his safety. That's what really mattered.

You found it difficult to walk in your gladiator sandals, and the quality of the air made leather tunic chafe against your thighs. Nevertheless, you preserved, ignoring all the sky comments that were being made by passers by regarding your appearance.

Finally, you found yourself standing outside Black Gold Cooperative headquarters; the large building looming over you as a cold shadow hung above your head. Attempting to go through the revolving doors proved to be a challenge in itself, as there was no such creation back on Themyscira. After a few attempts of trying to push through you finally found yourself in the deserted lobby. "Welcome to the future," your head snapped up to the television on the wall, where the same infomercial you had seen in the store window was playing in the reception area. "Life is good, but it can be better."

You slid behind the main desk and placed your hand on the television screen, allowing your fingers to trace the man's face. It was that same charming smile and honeyed brown eyes you remembered. His hair was golden and styled perfectly, curling at the nape of his neck, like a fairytale prince you had read about in the storybooks of your youth. He was fitted in colourful patterned suits which accentuated his broad shoulders and every word glided off his tongue so sweetly. That's when it hit you— his voice. That was the feature that had attracted you to him. It was what brought you to him. It was the voice you had dreamt of, the voice you had heard over and over again. The voice that had brought you to the world of men. It was fate that had brought you to Alistair, something that could've only been written by the Gods. That man was the first man you had ever seen, and my oh my, he was something else.

[awkwardhothead]

ok so i'll go on a rant about Rebecca´s past

and how Flo Collins is the worst, Rupert should end in jail, Higgins betrayal. Because it appears that some people need to be educated, and watch the show again. 

Sorry in advance for my english :) 

I wrote this under another post, but it was pointed out to me that maybe I should do this openly, so here it goes.

Starting with Florence or Sassy, she is supposed psychologist by profession (but I believe she bought her degree).  She literally gaslight Rebecca (scene above specially) about the abuse she suffered from Rupert. She literally victim blames Rebecca right out of the bat. If she was any good at her job, she would know that one of the first signs of abuse is isolation, and Rebecca became isolated, it took time tough, but in Sassy’s own words she knew Rupert was no good, and still she aloud her friend to become isolated, to be cut of from her support system. That isn’t Rebecca climbing her own tower, that is exactly what an abuser does first. They separate you from your family, friends, anybody you could rely. So that by the end you only have them. 

Rebeca says: ‘He told me I would be alone without him, and he was right.’ In episode 4, that is classical abuse, text book case. 

So, Sassy can’t and shouldn’t ever blame Rebecca for being away, because it wasn’t her, it was Rupert. And again, if she was a good psychologist (which the show says she even famous child psychologist), she should have seen this from miles! More so because she is friends with Rebecca for years before Rupert, she knows her, knows if Rebecca has a tendency to push people away, being cold, AND SHE DOESN’T!  Sassy says she changed because of Rupert, that before him Rebecca was funny, carefree (HELLO!!!). 

So, Sassy is the worst friend, and totally bough her degree.  

Now, about Rupert. 

Anybody who thinks Rupert isn’t a abuser who should end up in jail, is wrong and blind. Re-watch the show and listen to what Rebecca says when she talks about him in passing, or just how small she gets when he is around.

 He abuses her, mentally, still in the present. 

Which means that, in the past, it was all way worse. If now he says stuff to her in front off everybody, belittles her, and insults her, without fear of consequences, it means he did all of that and more behind close doors. 

Just watch the dart scene again, how she protects her self by staying away from him, and making her self look smaller, sitting down, whispering, guarding her facial expressions, even her smile. The show (and Hannah maybe) makes a wonderful point of it, is clear as day, and all sings of a victim of abuse. She literally only stands up from her chair when Ted has won, and Rupert has left.    

When he goes tell her about the pregnancy, is full abuser exerting his power, and a victim trying so much to regain control that she is half crying half attacking him, because she still not fully free. Maybe never will be, well I think the show is walking to her finally being free, but we’ll see in season 3. 

That is how much power a abuser has over their victim. and his mental abuse is a case for jail my people, she just cannot prove it, and/or people won’t/didn’t believe her. We circle back to Sassy here, if she was a good psychologist and friend she would have helped Rebecca make a case for his abuse, maybe even be one of the strongest testimonies in a court case, but she wasn't there, was she?

Like I said before, an abuser first moves is to make your reality theirs, so all around you is his. Your friends are his, your family are his (or him), your job, your financial control is all his. 

In Rebecca cases we see that he made her get away from her family, and she already had grown in a environment where a men is not accountable (see her speech to Keeley in 1x04 to understand the importance of it), and her traumatic event that shaped hers relationships with all people (the episode 2x10 need way more attention, so I’ll not go on). So believe that he would be her family, and would be there for her when her mom and dad wasn't, must have been the first and easiest wall Rupert had built. 

In relation to friends, we only know about Sassy, and by the math, Nora must have been born before the marriage, when Rebecca and Rupert were dating/engaged, in that stage he still was working on the base of his control. Grooming her. So that's why it took six years for Rebecca to fully be taken away from Sassy and Nora.

First was the family, second financial independency (another text book step for abuse). 

Remember Rebecca said he would choose what she would wear, what she could eat. That is taking your independency of choice and being, you become basically a extension of that other human being. And for all that we know from the show, the only things Rebecca did when she was married to Rupert was run galas, organize event, “pose” as his wife, watch the games with him (these are the things she says on the show), we never have heard about a job (meaning somewhere she would go and wasn’t controlled or owned by him).

Then by the sixth year she was fully controlled by him, and that's why/how she was induced to get away from Sassy and Nora. He 100% owned her. 

And we see this with Higgins. At that point, her only “friend” aloud was someone that he also controls. She says that she thought he was her friend, that they would have lunch together. Imagine you being alone, and your only friend being a employee of your abuser?! 

And Rupert knew, he probably suggested to Leslie said approximation, or maybe just used it, so he could cheat, at her own house. 

Just like her father did to her mom. 

Maybe that was the point, when she discovered that the cheating was happening in her house, in her bed. Maybe at her table, just like her dad. 

Anyway, the strength a victim of abuse needs to be able to leave, is immense, is something that nobody who hasn’t gone though it can even fathom. 

And them, even worse, all of it was public, a circus. What Rebecca went trough is so huge, I cannot put into words. 

And the divorce case. I wish we knew what was the terms. I think because she (even without the support of her “friend”, all alone, only lawyers at her side) in some way made some agreement to not go public about the abuse, and because the full case on cheating was public, she got this crazy settlement. Really it must have been such a work to get the club, I really wish we could read her divorce papers, and the NDAs they must have signed. 

Anyway, I’ll finish this TED Talk on Rebecca now, even tough I can write way more. She is in my opinion the second most well written character of the show, only after to Ted (maybe even tied, and the writers know, see gif above)

[wackybuddiemewbs]

The other another snippet to a WIP no one is writing…

AKA, it's me, back on all of the bullshit with this Bones AU. 173k heaps of bullshit (seriously, what the fuckery). Yet, here we are. Again, after this already happened (several times). Because me and impulse control don't vibe well. So here's to vibing! And I will work Schrödinger into conversation, no matter what. For reasons. So stay tuned for Schrödinger's Bones AU no one's ever writing!

The Girl in the Pond IV

Buck still tries to find a way to place his hands that doesn’t look awkward. He feels oddly out of place in this house, well, villa to be perfectly exact.

They are in the living room now, Eddie sitting next to him on the surely expensive sofa. It has to be expensive because it’s uncomfortable as hell. And most pretty sofas are made for the aesthetic, not the comfort.

He does his best to observe. Because that is what you do when you need to learn a new skill. Buck has no clue what it’s like to actually work on a case, so he is bound to follow Eddie’s lead on that one.

Though he finds that increasingly difficult. Because Eddie doesn’t even talk much, doesn’t explain his method. He just knows. And the Major seems to know, too. There are few looks exchanged and that still settles most of it. There is an unspoken understanding, an agreement of sorts – but Buck doesn’t get it.

He is impressed with that, as it surely speaks for Eddie’s skills as a federal agent, but Buck can’t really make sense of it. Which, in turn, makes it all the harder for him to find a starting point, a way to learn. Because he has to get better at this to earn his spot, right?

“You’re positive it’s our Cleo?” Mrs. Eller asks, wiping at her damp eyes. Even without great people reading skills, Buck can tell that she actually already knows the answer to that question, probably knew in a while.

Buck saw that numerous times, when they identified victims of more recent deaths, though most of those were still cold cases. When the remains were returned to their loved ones, oftentimes there was this moment of knowing, of remembering that they’d already known.

It’s accepting it which is the hard part. Because it always feels like giving up.

“We established twenty-two matching points of comparison…,” Buck begins, but Eddie cuts him short, “Yes, we’re certain.”

“Did he do it? The Senator? One military man to another, Agent Diaz,” the Major asks, clenching his fists.

“We can’t discuss the investigation in any way,” Eddie answers mildly. “I’m sorry.”

“Can you at least tell us if our daughter suffered?” Mrs. Eller asks, now tears staining her eyes.

“Given the state of her skull…,” Buck wants to say, but again, Eddie won’t let him, telling her instead, “Cleo never saw it coming.”

She leans back slightly, exhaling. “Thank you.”

“We just wanted to be sure to tell you as soon as we knew,” Eddie continues.

“And we greatly appreciate that,” the Major answers, doing his best to stay stoic. Which is something Buck has seen plenty before, too.

Buck wets his lips. “Mrs. Eller, can you tell us what Cleo wore around her neck?”

He can feel Eddie nudge him lightly in the side, but Buck chooses to ignore that. Those might be the only people who can tell them what this was before the pond and fish nearly tore it apart. They have as much interest in finding out what happened to Cleo as they do, more, in fact. So anything that can get them one step closer to the truth should be an appropriate thing to ask, right?

“Her father’s Bronze Star. Ted won it in the first Gulf War, then he gave it to her for luck,” she says, only to break down in tears.

Buck blinks, suddenly not knowing what to reply, how to follow up on that last statement, to keep alive that conversation. Even though he should be able to say something. How that information is valuable. How that may help figure out part of Cleo’s story, about her last hours. But the words don’t come to him. Buck just stares at the weeping mother and her husband holding on to her, still trying to be stoic, controlled.

And I don’t know what to tell you.

“I think we should be going,” Eddie says in a low voice. “We’re very sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, Agent Diaz,” the Major says. “This means a lot to us.”

“We’ll do whatever we can to find the person who did this to her,” Eddie says, no, vows.

The Major nods his head tightly, then goes to sit with his wife and hold her as she keeps crying.

Once they are out of sight of the grieving couple, Eddie tugs Buck by the elbow and practically drags him out of the house, villa. His demeanor does not promise anything good, though Buck fails to figure what gets him so angry all of a sudden. Sure, things didn’t end on a high note. They rarely do when you tell someone you found their daughter dead. But he didn’t do anything wrong, right?

“What the hell was that?” Eddie curses through gritted teeth.

Buck blinks, taken aback by that sudden reaction. Normally, Eddie is composed when it comes to these things, but everything tells Buck that he is angry with him, downright furious. And he doesn’t get that one bit.

If there is someone who hasn’t been playing by the book, it was Eddie, right? He made assumptions about Cleo not having seen it coming, when there is nothing to suggest that this is true.

So why am I the bad guy in this all of a sudden?

“The same question I wanted to ask you!” Buck retorts.

Eddie blinks at him, seemingly not having expected that. “What?”

“Those people deserved the truth,” Buck replies.

“Their daughter was murdered,” Eddie hisses. “They deserve the kindness of a lie.”

“What does that even mean?” Buck snaps. “How do you sugarcoat a murder?”

“Not sugarcoat, but simply not bombard them with every damn detail of how their daughter was brutally murdered and her body torn apart by fish in a pond!”

Buck folds his arms over his chest, setting his jaw. “They’re entitled to know the details of her last moments.”

Because that is what he can give them. Maybe they don’t have the whole picture yet, but they will, in time. Buck may not always know what to say to people in certain situations, but he can give them the facts. He can give them back that part of the past of the people they lost.

“Just because they’re entitled to it doesn’t mean they want or need to know – in all its gruesome detail,” Eddie shoots back.

“There’ll be an inquest report,” Buck points out.

“Which they won’t read because they don’t want to,” Eddie retorts, irritated. “Especially because toward the end, Cleo and her parents weren’t even speaking.”

Buck frowns. “They told you that?”

Because that is nothing Buck would be inclined to share with a federal agent. Or any stranger, really. Because they aren’t friends. They only got acquainted because of Cleo, because Eddie was working that case. It was a job. So why would they tell him that much of a personal thing? That doesn’t make sense, does it?

“You know, getting information out of live people is a lot different than getting information out of a pile of bones. You have to offer up something of yourself first,” Eddie replies, clearly all the more frustrated.

“So that’s what you did with the Major?” Buck asks. “Offering up something of yourself?”

Eddie gestures at him. “Learning curve.”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?”

Buck licks his lips. “Then what exactly did you do in the military?”

“You didn’t seriously just ask me that, did you?” Eddie huffs, touching his forehead. He is clearly exasperated, but Buck fails to understand just why. He did what Eddie said you had to do. So what did he do wrong this time?

“I did, but I don’t understand why you’re so pissed because of it.”

“See? See what you did right there, Bones? You asked a personal question without offering anything personal in return. And since I’m not a skeleton, you get zilch. Sorry.”

“You’re not actually sorry,” Buck notes.

“I’m really not, no,” Eddie says, shaking his head.

“Fair enough,” Buck replies. “I still think they deserve the truth. And it’s still Buck.”

“You always have to have the last word, don’t you?”

“I will insist on an argument until I’m presented with better evidence to the contrary. And for the past years, the truth has always won in my book.”

Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose. “Ducks, Buck, think of the ducks.”

“Quack.”

Though Buck starts to think that maybe he can’t be a duck, after all. Because no matter how he tries to stay in line, watching Eddie, following his path, he is not one step closer to figuring out what to say to people like the Ellers.

His steps don’t match Eddie’s, simple as that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Okay, let’s go through the latest findings again, to see if we missed anything,” Buck says, clapping his hands together after he put on some gloves.

Hen noticed that the kid has been somewhat fidgety ever since he got back from his field tripwith the FBI agent. More fidgety than usual, that is. Because Evan Buckley, as they all know, is a lot of energy begging to be released. A whole lot of energy. Buckets of them.

“Well, you said she was depressed but never elaborated,” Chim points out. “That might be a good start.”

“Oh yeah that, sorry. Eddie called, and then I… nevermind,” he answers sheepishly, then looks back at the screen before him. “Pupal casings show that she was on Lorazepam, Chloradiazepoxide, and Meclizine Hydrochloride. Hence my conclusion that she was depressed.”

“That’s what you’d give someone with anxiety and depression, so that checks out,” Hen agrees. While she has worked her fair share next to the forensic boy wonder, it never ceases to amaze her just what he can get out of a bit of bog goo and some bugs he found in that goo.

“And someone who’s nauseous,” Buck adds.

“True, which can be a nasty side-effect of her mental conditions as well as the medication she took for the depression and anxiety,” Hen ponders.

“So does that give us anything?” Chimney asks. “Because I’m drawing a blank, to be honest. Since the necklace belonged to Cleo, as Buck learned from the Ellers, we can rule out that it’s related to the murderer. So that’s a dead end, too. For now at least.”

Buck focuses in on the screen, whispering to himself over and over, “Anxious, depressed, nauseous… Nausea…”

He looks up at them with wide eyes. “Nausea!”

“Oh, hold on, looks like he’s having an idea!” Chim laughs. “That, or a giant sneeze. We’re about to find out.”

Buck jumps up from his seat and rushes up to the table where they laid out Cleo’s bones. He grabs the microscope to take another look. “Those bone fragments aren’t frog bones.”

“What are they, then?” Hen asks.

“Fetal remains.”

Chimney gapes. “What?”

“Malleus, Incus, Stapes,” Buck recounts, pointing to the small bones. “These are fetal ear bones. How could I miss that?”

Hen touches her chest, finding it hard to breathe all of a sudden. “The girl was pregnant by the time she died, oh my God.”

“Not very far along, I’m afraid,” Buck notes with a tight grimace.

Depressed, anxious, nauseous, and pregnant. And now dead. Hen shakes her head. That poor girl has been through so much in her short life, only to have it end when she may just have gotten a prospect at something else. Life really isn’t fair at times. More often than not, sadly.

“Can we do a DNA reading, to see if we can prove paternity?” Chimney questions.

“We can try, but we need enough genetic material to test – both the child and the potential father,” Hen lets him know. And she doubts that they are going to find it. Most of it was lost to the bog and the fish anyway.

“This Senator, he’s smart,” Chimney notes. “He gets an intern pregnant and then murders her when it threatens his career. And he has the connections to get away with it.”

“Eddie says that the Senator may not have done it,” Buck notes. “Though I’m afraid it may be a good hypothesis… even though it leans a bit more to narrative than pure fact. It does create a motive, though.”

Chim shakes his head. “I can say one thing with a certainty: Even if the guy didn’t do it, he is a rat bastard.”

“On that much we agree,” Buck huffs, reaching into his pocket. “I’ll call Eddie, to let him know. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Hen looks back at the bones on the table, the only remains of that young woman’s life that they now have to figure out what else was there, what flesh to add to the bone of the story to make it complete again. Because right now, they only have fragments, so tiny fragments at times, that they might just as well be mistaken for a frog’s.

The supposed “bit” starts to take an awful lot of time, Hen finds, when Buck won’t return to the lab in over fifteen minutes. She sends Chimney off to grab a coffee while she goes venturing. Though Hen doesn’t have to go searching for long. She finds Buck up on the bleachers framing the upper story of the lab – his favorite place to go when he has to think.

“Penny for your thoughts?” she asks, settling down next to him on the ground, letting her legs dangle over the edge. “And since I know how many you got floating around by the second, I know asking for it will make me a poor woman one day.”

Buck smiles at her shyly. “Hi.”

“Hey.”

“The phone call took thatlong?” Hen questions.

Buck shakes his head. “No, that just lasted a minute. Eddie was… busy… Did I miss something important? Something about Cleo?”

“No, no,” she assures him, noticing his distress right off the bat. “Though I feel like wemissed something. Ever since you got back, you seem… not as chirpy as usual.”

Buck looks down. “It’s fine.”

“You tend to say that even when things are definitely not fine, you know?” Hen points out.

“I just needed some alone-time.”

“You need an awful lot of that lately,” Hen huffs.

And that is precisely what she and the others don’t like at all about the latest developments. Buck is doing it again, withdrawing. They somewhat expected it, when they got the news that Abby was gone. They readied themselves to pick up the pieces, make sure their little boy wonder was all set.

But none of them saw it coming when Buck announced he was leaving for two months to work in Peru. He didn’t consult with Bobby until he had to – for the job. He didn’t talk to them. He just followed through with it, in true Buck fashion. And before they knew, they bid him farewell at the airport and watched him go.

But what struck them was that he was back to keeping away from them. Because they all know Buck doesn’t actuallywant that. He wants to be with them. He loves them. But there are those moments when Buck just shuts down, and no one knows why exactly he does it. The way Hen figures, Buck himself doesn’t know either. They can tell the triggers at times, but there are those times Buck just shuts the doors and no one gets to come inside.

And sadly, if shutting the doors and taking flight get you in a mass grave in Peru with people aiming rifles at you, then something is very wrong.

But just as sadly, a certain someone does not recognize that as fact...

“So is this about Cleo Eller?” Hen asks, keeping her voice leveled.

He licks his lips. “Among other things.”

“Any things you wanna share with the class?”

“… I may have messed up with the Ellers. Eddie sounded very pissed on the phone… and before that, too. I don’t see that I’d have to apologize, because I didn’t do anything wrong, really…”

“Then why do you feel like you messed up?”

“I made them upset, but not on purpose,” Buck explains.

“How did you make them upset?”

“I told them information about their daughter’s last moments. Apparently, that was not appropriate for some reason,” Buck says, puckering his lips.

“Alright. And that got you thinking – what?” Hen questions.

“It got me thinking that… that maybe Eddie’s right.”

“Right about what?” Hen narrows her eyes. While she likes the agent well enough, he’s a charming character as far as she can tell, Hen continues to have a bad feeling. And it started the moment she heard said agent snatched Buck right from his strenuous trip to Peru to consult on a case. By having him be taken by Homeland Security, mind you.

“What if I’m actually only good with bones and lousy with people?” Buck asks.

“Is that what he said to you?” Hen narrows her eyes. If that’s the case, she may need to have a word with that federal agent after all.

“No, it’s a conclusion based on… the evidence,” Buck says mutely.

“People like you.”

Because Hen tried. She tried not to like the boy wonder with a fat mouth and a veryodd attitude. But only a few hours into working with him, Hen understood that this guy was the sweetest golden retriever puppy she’d ever met. Since then, Hen has decided that that this pupper is under her protection, even more so when the pupper decides to stray off all the way to Peru and back and now wants to play with the FBI, too.

“I’m not looking for a new hookup after Abby, to release sexual tension, thank you very much,” Buck argues.

“Interesting leap from liking to lovemaking. I’m sure it means nothing,” Hen laughs.

He shudders. “I hate psychology.”

“You may have mentioned that before. Like a million times,” she chuckles, amused. “But back on topic: You got us. And we’re people, you know? At least last time I checked.”

“Of course I know that, but… beside you guys? C’mon. My most meaningful relationships are with dead people.”

Hen shakes her head. “Who said that?”

Who dared?

“No one, but it’s true, think about it!” He gestures wildly to underline a point Hen can’t see, even if she tried to look harder. Though she doesn’t have the intention.

“I’m trying, but I don’t see how that’s factual by any means.”

Yes, Buck has his weird ways, but anyone who bothers to get to know him will see that he is worth putting up with the quirks in turn. The boy has a heart of gold, no one can convince her otherwise. So what’s there not to like about someone who is that dedicated, that hardworking, that kind?

“When we were seeing the Ellers… I couldn’t connect with them in any meaningful way. I just sat there and drank my tea. Eddie could, though. The Major reacted to him, and not just because they know each other. Eddie talked to them, and that helped. They remained calm. He managed to offer comfort at a time we all know there is no comfort… But when I opened my mouth, I just made them upset. I can give the facts, but… but they didn’t seem to help them. I only made it worse.”

“Eddie has been trained for those kinds of situations, you haven’t,” she reasons.

“You can’t train that. It’s either that you have the ability to speak to people, to connect with them emotionally, or you don’t. And I start to think that I don’t. I wanted to help them by telling them all I know about Cleo’s last moments, but… that doesn’t help, does it?”

“It doesn’t help everybody. It would certainly help you. Because that is how your brain works, but… every brain’s different.”

“Precisely. But I don’t know how to talk to people who have… not even similar brains to my own. I couldn’t connect to Cleo’s parents. I drew a complete blank, Hen. I didn’t know what to do when Cleo’s mother broke down crying. But you know who I can connect to?”

She sighs. “Cleo.”

He rubs at his eyes, then looks ahead. “I understand Cleo. And her bones are all I’ve ever seen. I have talked to her parents, I’ve shaken their hands, I’ve had tea with them… And still, I can tell you more about her than I could tell you about them.”

He shakes his head, clearly frustrated with himself. Because Buck will always hold himself to the highest standard. Because Hen knows that boy is deadly afraid of not being enough. And no matter how often they tell him that he is, Buck never seems to learn that lesson.

Sadly, the learning curve on that is not as steep.

“When she was seven, Cleo broke her wrist probably falling off a bike. And two weeks later, before the cast was even removed, she got right back on that bike and broke it all over again.”

He licks his lips.

“And when she was being murdered, she fought back hard, even though she was so depressed she could hardly get up in the morning. She didn’t welcome death. Cleo wanted to live.”

Hen reaches over to give his shoulder a gentle squeeze. It never ceases to amaze her just what Buck can read out of the bones, but she understands that bit. She understands looking at the remains of that person and finding that connection. Even though they all try their best to keep a professional distance, you somehow find yourself in every victim. And you have to be very careful not to leave too much of yourself behind every time you do that.

“It feels like I know her better than I know most people in my life. You know, live people. I can let her close, but… what of her parents? What of me?” Buck asks, sounding defeated. “And how am I supposed to… actually be of help in the field, if… all I do is make people upset by caring more about the bones than the loved ones of the person those bones belonged to?”

“Buckaroo, has it ever occurred to you that you may come off in a certain way to people not because you connect too little but because you connect too much?”

Because Hen can’t say she ever met anyone who cares that deeply about telling the stories of others. Someone who is so dedicated to find out what happened to people who no one bothers looking for anymore. Sure, sometimes Buck seems like a thousand miles away in his head, but she never got the impression that he is emotionally distant or can’t empathize. He can, sometimes too much, sometimes even with just a bunch of bones. Because to Buck, they are essential parts to understanding who those people were.

“Please no more psychology,” he whines, grabbing his head with both hands. “It’s a soft science and I hate it.”

“I know, but people are mostly soft,” she laughs. “Squishy, even.”

“Except for their bones,” Buck sighs, looking ahead pensively.

“Except for their bones, yeah,” Hen agrees with a small smile. “You care about Cleo. You fight for her story to be told. Anyone can see that, even though they may not always get that this is your intention.”

“Not her family, apparently.”

“Maybe not right now, but they will in time. You’d have to be pretty blind to miss that. I’m not going to lie, not everyone will appreciate how you go about it at times, sharing the histories of the victims. But everyone has to recognize that you care. Because that is just the facts.”

“But this isn’t about me. It’s about Cleo. It’s about those victims still sitting in those boxes, waiting to be found. So I don’t want to make this about me, but… I have to ask myself… if I can’t even do that, then… what can I actually do for those people, the families? What’s my purpose being there, telling them that? I don’t wanna make this about me, again.”

And Hen is sure there is so much to unwrap there, but there is a time and place for that, and she is just as sure this isn’t the one.

“You want some advice?” she asks instead.

Buck nods his head, looking so much younger than he actually is.

“Offer up a little bit of yourself every once in a while,” Hen says. “Just… tell somebody something you’re not completely certain you want them to know. That’s a start.”

Buck wrinkles his nose, letting the words sink in for a moment. “That’s the second time I’ve received that advice.”

“Well, you know I give out great advice.”

“But if the same advice comes from one of the feds…” He gestures with his left hand dismissively.

“There’s a saying about broken clocks being right twice a day,” Hen points out, her voice trailing off.

“Right.”

“I know you can do it, Buck. You just need a bit of practice. And we all know you’re stubborn enough to never give up trying.”

He smiles at her. “Never.”

“That’s more like it.” She squeezes his shoulder again. He returns, then looks ahead again. A few moments later, his face scrunches into something pensive again.

“Oh, I got another question, thinking about it,” he ponders. “Not related to the case.”

“Then shoot.”

“Say, I had a stray cat that refuses to be put in a box…”

Hen furrows her eyebrows. “Schrödinger?”

“No.”

“Are we sure this is a hypothetical?”

“No, the stray cat and the box are real. I’m just not sure how to get the two together,” Buck explains. “So I’m coming up with some alternate plans. So far my approaches weren’t… ugh, very successful.”

“If the mountain won’t come to Muhammad, Muhammad must go to the mountain.”

“What does some prophet have to do with a cat refusing to go inside a box?” Buck asks.

“Put the food and the water and a blanket in the box, so the cat has to go in there at some point,” she answers. “And then all you have to do is close the box in time.”

“Ohhhh.”

“So you’re going to adopt a cat?” Hen questions, somewhat liking the idea. Not just because she adores animals, but Buck having someone at the ex’s apartment aside from memories seems like a good first step, right?

“No, no, I just need to take him to the vet, see if he’s got a chip. I found a nice animal shelter in case he doesn’t have one. Five star reviews,” Buck insists.

“But you could adopt him, if he doesn’t have an owner,” Hen ponders.

“I don’t think I’m the most… care-giving person. Especially considering the job I do,” Buck argues, curling his lips into an uncertain frown.

“You know cats are pretty independent, right?” Hen huffs. “And we work crazy hours, too. Some of us even dare to have kids. Imagine that.”

“Sure, that’s not what I mean. But he’s a stray. If he runs off again and gets hurt… or worse… that’d be on me. And I don’t want that,” Buck argues. “It’s a good shelter. You can even sign up for a program to sponsor an animal there, make sure they are provided for. And I already plan to donate to the shelter.”

Hen grimaces. That sounds oh too familiar. And sadly, she continues to have the feeling that this is not at all about Buck not feeling ready to have a pet that mostly takes care of itself. He doesn’t trust people to stick around. And he feels too responsible to let that go. Again.

“But anyway. Putting his things in the box. That actually makes a whole lot of sense. Should’ve come up with that myself,” Buck says, trying to sound way too cheerful over that piece of advice.

“Maybe your brain didn’t want to find ways to take the stray cat out of the apartment?” Hen suggests.

Buck leans his head down with a shout, “Hen, no more psychology, I’m begging you!”

“Fine, fine,” she relents. “Got any pictures?”

“Sure.” He takes out his phone and scrolls through his gallery, leaning in closer to show her. “That’s him eating my cereal.”

“Aww…,” Hen sighs with a smile. That cat sure is adorable. But then a thought crosses her mind. “You didn’t continue to eat that, did you?”

Buck rolls his eyes at her. “I may be slow on the uptake at times, but I’m too smart for that. I know what germs live inside a cat’s mouth.”

“It can never harm to ask, Buckaroo. Sometimes, your smart self is going places.”

He scrolls through the next images, grinning. “Oh, and that’s him dozing. I gave him one of the old blankets to sleep in. He likes to curl up inside it like a burrito, full purrito and all.”

“That is adorable.”

“Isn’t it?” He smiles, looking back at the phone.

And somehow, Hen dares to be a bit more hopeful. Because something tells her the last work is not spoken on the matter. Because as Schrödinger would maybe even agree, as long as the cat is not in the box, he is neither going to the shelter nor is he not.

[fantasy2739]

Jamie Tartt prompt: Jamie finds out that it was Rebecca and not Ted who did the ManCity switch.

Hiya! So this is short and sweet but I may do a longer version some other time.

Enjoy!

Jamie doesn’t hold grudges. Okay he does, but usually they’re well deserved. Like Sam and Dani getting a shit ton of praise after playing less than stellar (Sam was a fantastic player) or being injured (Dani was an amazing striker). Or like Roy for acting like he was the shit (still one of the best midfielders ever).

Alright so maybe he’s a little petty.

He does feel totally justified for holding a small grudge against Ted for letting him go. From how it had been explained to him, all Ted had to do was say he wasn’t going to bench Jamie for the rest of the season. He knows on some level that if Man City had really pushed, Ted wouldn’t have much of a choice. Still, he’s pretty sure that Ted hadn’t said anything at all. Jamie remembers the exact moment he got the call saying he’d been recalled. He’d run through so many thoughts and feelings, he was surprised he had any left. The first was definitely ‘what the fuck’, which had been followed by shit he was leaving Richmond. It wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted to leave…. He just didn’t want to. He’d actually been bonding. Fuck sake he’d given a whole talk on why he was a prick. He’d shared a bottle of alcohol with the lads. That was when he’d started getting angry. Because fuck that. He’d started to feel like he might have a place with the team and it had gone and gotten fucked. When things got fucked, Jamie blamed someone else. And all he could think was Ted fucking Lasso had done this. He probably wasn’t chipper enough for the yank.

So maybe, just maybe Jamie did something a little petty and spiteful. And maybe he called Ted a twat to one too many people.

Getting Richmond relegated hadn’t exactly felt like justice but Jamie would be lying if it hadn’t felt a little good. Not in a ‘fuck you I’m the best’ kind of way, more of a ‘fuck you how could you toss me’ way. His dad ruined it and Ted saw he’d ruined it. Jamie wondered, fleetingly, if Ted had actually fought for him to stay. The little soldier he gave him followed him everywhere. He’d even swallowed his grudge to ask Ted if he could go back to Richmond. He didn’t hold onto it, he’d actually been pretty good at hiding the minuscule resent he may still bare.

They’re drinking. They just won a match and they’re living it up at one of the many bars around. Or everyone else is. Jamie is maybe three sips into his first beer. He’s never been a big drinker, especially not when he’s in the on season. He’s not ruining his physique thank you. He doesn’t mind though, being one of the few that doesn’t really drink. Drunkenness lowers a lot of walls. He sees people behave in ways, not that they never would, but in ways that they normally wouldn’t. Isaac is very cuddly, Colin’s accent gets so Welsh he may just actually be speaking Welsh. Sam compliments everyone in his immediate radius. Dani dances and strips. Jamie likes that his team is so bubbly. He slides into a seat next to Ted briefly. He knows he should congratulate the man, or at least one is his coaches on the win. Even if he thinks Roy is fucking ancient.

“There he is!” Ted cheers. He pokes Jamie’s chest a few times. “Our star player.” Jamie feels warm and gooey about the compliment.

“Course I’m the star.” He says. “I’m amazing. But congrats Coach, couldn’t have done it without you yeah.” Ted smiles at him and it strikes Jamie as a little off. It’s too wide, bright with a gleam of something. He’s drunk Jamie realises with a start. Ted Lasso is wasted. Jamie doesn’t think he’s ever seen the man drunk. Maybe shy of tipsy but never outright drunk.

“Thanks Jamie.” Ted slurs slightly. He drapes an arm over Jamie. “I’m real proud of you.” Jamie’s body is taut from the unexpected touch but he melts into it eventually. “We’ll be back in the premier league lickety split.” Ted seems to find what he just said hilarious. Jamie smiles as Ted starts repeating lickety. The arm is still over his shoulder and Jamie feels like he and Ted are having some sort of in cahoots meeting. It’s like being secretive, hidden. He feels emboldened to ask.

“Why did you let Man City take me back?” He asks. Ted stares at him for a while, like the question didn’t fully go in. Jamie thinks maybe he crossed some sort of line.

“Honestly Jamie? I didn’t.” Ted says. He waves his other hand, Jamie watchful of the glass in it. “I wanted to keep you.”

“Oh.” Jamie says, glad that no one can see him blush slightly. “Then why’d I get sent back?” Ted looks like he’s mulling it over. Like he’s thinking if it’s something he should tell Jamie. “Was it me? Was I too… pricky?” His voice comes out small. He knows he wasn’t the best behaved but he didn’t think it was enough to have him sent away. Ted’s arm tightens around him, rubbing up and down. It’s probably meant to console him but Jamie just feels a bit claustrophobic.

“Hey now, it wasn’t you.” Ted slurs. “There was some hijinks. Rebecca had some things going on and that’s it. Wasn’t your fault.” He smiles at Jamie, who is processing that Rebecca sent him away. He never really spoke to their owner other than occasionally spotting her with Keeley. Maybe it was because she hadn’t wanted him and Keeley close by or something. Maybe she thought he was a prick. He’s not entirely sure and mulls it over. He wants to be mad at her because why would she boot him? He’s Jamie fucking Tartt. But he’s already wasted a lot of time and feelings on this. He can’t go through it again (he doesn’t think he wants to know).

Jamie thinks that’s enough discovery for one night and starts to slip out of Ted’s grip. He’s got drunk teammates to get home.