Okay but like, Roy and Jamie weren’t exactly subtle about loathing each other, were they? They fought each other on the pitch and badmouthed each other on TV, none of that keep it quiet for the sake of the team shit for these extra boys, yeah? My point is, anyone who knows anything about English football knows that Roy Kent and Jamie Tartt used to hate each other, right?
So obviously, at some point, during some press conference or post game interview, someone needs to bring this fact up. Maybe it’s as early as after the 2x06 match, because Ted might well have insisted Roy and Jamie be the ones to front that, both because it was them that won that game and because he figures it’ll promote ~their bond~ or some such. Could be later too, after the headbutt/hug thing, or later still, once the pictures of Jamie and Roy’s early morning excursions start doing the rounds on social media.
Doesn’t matter much when, really, only that someone – maybe from the tabloids because they’re a vicious lot – would ask: “Roy, just weeks before you joined the Richmond coaching staff you said, and I quote, ‘Jamie Tartt is a muppet and I hope he dies of the incurable condition of being a little bitch’. Today you described him as the most important player on the field. What has changed?”
And maybe the room goes a bit quiet at that, oooh he fucking went there, and what the hell is going to happen now, but Jamie only cocks his head to the side, making a face but looking at Roy all amused like. “You said that about me? That hurts me feelings, Coach.”
And Roy rolls his eyes, exasperated but in too good a mood after the win to be really annoyed. “Yeah, well, as it turns out the condition was only mostly incurable, wasn’t it?”
And Jamie goes aaaw and the press goes um okay and it doesn’t really explain anything, only adds to the ever-evolving legend of what the fuck is up with Roy Kent and Jamie Tartt.
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Fantasy AU Buck & Eddie
As Buck draws the bowstring back he feels Eddie come up beside him, feels the heat of his body pressing along his side.
Eddie reaches around Buck, his left hand splaying over Buck’s lower back as the fingers of his right hand delicately run down Buck’s arm from his wrist to the bend of his left elbow.
“Archery is about your breath,” Eddie says softly, “let it guide you, ground you, focus you. Let the bow become an extension of you, just like a sword. You are not it’s master, wielding control over it, but it’s partner, working alongside it.”
The warmth from Eddie’s breath as he speaks caresses Buck’s neck, goose flesh pebbling in its wake. Buck tries to keep his focus on the target in front of him and not on the male behind him, pressing in closer, his lips now ghosting over the shell of Buck’s ear.
“Choose your target and get them in your sights. Let the world slow down around you, like the only two things that exist in this moment are you and them.”
Buck takes a deep breath, the scent of Eddie invading his senses. His woodsy, earthy aroma floods Buck’s nose, his eyes fluttering shut as he greedily inhales another lungful. He swallows thickly, and swears he can taste fresh rain on his tongue.
Buck feels the press of Eddie’s nose against his hair, feels the way the other males chest rises as he takes a breath. Feels the shudder of his exhale, his arms shifting and the muscles drawing tense around Buck, like he’s holding himself rigid.
Holding himself back.
Could this mean that Eddie feels it too? This pull between them? Like they’re two magnets and the closer they get to one another, the harder it is to pull away? Buck wants to find out what would happen if they didn’t pull away. If they just let themselves collide.
“Take a breath to steady your aim,” Buck does as instructed, Eddie’s scent wrapping around him and inside him once again, “and then as you exhale, let the arrow,” his lips ghost the shell of Buck’s ear, “fly.”
Buck releases the arrow, watching it soar towards the target, landing just off centre.
WIP Wednesday
Tagged by @dangerpronebuddie & @tizniz
Surprise! I know I haven’t been participating in a lot of writing games atm (thank you to everyone who still keeps tagging ❤️) due to being swamped with stupid life stresses and responsibilities but I’ve also been using my free time to read and rediscover my love for art 😍
This snippet is from my Buddie Fantasy AU, that I actually wrote a little bit ago and something about it stuck with me and eventually inspired me to try bringing it to life.
No pressure tagging: @spotsandsocks @diazsdimples @hippolotamus @wikiangela @wildlife4life @watchyourbuck @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @madneywedding @rainbow-nerdss @exhuastedpigeon @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @try-set-me-on-fire @prettyboybuckley @shitouttabuck @steadfastsaturnsrings @sunshinediaz @spagheddiediaz @devirnis @fiona-fififi @fortheloveofbuddie @giddyupbuck @homerforsure @honestlydarkprincess @hoodie-buck @jeeyuns @jesuisici33 @king-buckley @lover-of-mine @loserdiaz @captain-hen @bekkachaos @smilingbuckley @neverevan @nmcggg @missmagooglie @monsterrae1 and as always, anyone else who has something to share, consider this your official tag 🏷️
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ragged breaths pour out of you as you scrub your hands clean of the crimson liquid which stains your hands and your very soul. it was brutal and beautiful—the colour and how the red strands swirled around as it united before falling down the sink pipe.
you blink and clench your hands. the very hands which so effortlessly carved up the heart from inside the man laying on your rough ‘operating table’. you are terrible, yes. there was no other word to describe you. a vigilante, maybe? but did it even matter when there is a part of you which feels the thrill of the killings and torture that you so cunningly come up with no mercy?
no, actually, there are other words to describe you. heartless, being one of them. the irony of that when you quite literally removed someone’s heart recently is not lost on you.
rotten. sadistic. torturous. depraved. murderer.
it was how you revelled in the pain you caused others; how you can’t stop the excitement spreading across your body when you see the utter terror in their eyes; how you sometimes let them have a moment of freedom, just to tear it all away at once and see as hopelessness encompasses every cell of their body. the scalpel that you used in carving the man’s heart probably possessed more sympathy than you did.
you are not the same, the voice taunts you. you are not the same person who cried over the dead raven for night’s on end. you can’t even recognise yourself. you are twisted and depraved and oh-so sick in the head. you are broken in ways you don’t even know.
you try to deny it at first, try to resist with every shaky breath that you do this for the greater good. but you know, deep down, you know that this is what you are: a monster masquerading as a human. you have as much heart as the corpse on your operating table with the empty chest.
you try to find some semblance of yourself on the broken pieces of the vanity mirror scattered around you. but you can truly see your twisted visage on the abnormal reflections. it was as if a sculptor had chipped away at you to add all the cruelty of the world and none of its gentleness.
you were made of jagged edges and sharp thorns. made to admire, not to love.
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Alright, we’ve crossed the line, this is officially also a Lycion stan account his concept is just too fucking ridiculous
Like hey check out this fucking furry, he kinned so hard it was literally illegal and got arrested because he refused to stop committing awoo crimes
I can’t not love him yer honour the bits write themselves
And he’s not even the scary dog of the group
Cithis is the scary dog, you all know it, Lycion’s the only tank in the mage brigade and STILL the soft boy
Show poodle ass werewolf
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