roy kent jokingly flirts with his former rival turned friend turned lover’s mum. jamie tartt’s mum. at first just to get under his skin, just to get a laugh, because the devil started it first with roy’s sister. but then… jamie keeps inviting roy home with him. whenever he visits in manchester… roy is there.
and roy is so grateful to be included, to be considered safe enough to be allowed in. but the thing is, roy still can’t stop staring, mouth agape and at a loss for words, at how consistently cuddly and openly affectionate georgie is with her son. roy is suddenly overcome with a longing long-buried in his fractured heart. for a loving maternal relationship in his life that wasn’t instead discarded for a 9 year old kid to be shipped off to sunderland. for him to ever know what it is to be nurtured. and one afternoon he’s just stuck there, paralyzed in a trance; seeing jamie get his hair softly pet again, head draped careless across his mum’s lap again. and georgie looks at roy. and roy looks at georgie. and she gives him a very unmistakable irrefutable nod of the chin.
and somehow roy kent, pushing 40, barely a stone’s throw away her junior, is leaning his own head gently by georgie’s offered knee. oppositely resting his skull against jamie’s, their fingers eventually finding each other’s. a lighter hand above alternating between untangling walnut mist strands and twirling midnight brown curls. he can listen to jamie ramble on, sometimes finds himself joining in with his own mundane complaints. both always met with the reliable “yeah, obviously” and “i know, luv.” the occasional pep talk of reassurance: that roy is also amazing, that being up on jamie’s wall is proof enough of his worth, that roy is never not gonna turn out alright either. and maybe jamie was right, in that sometimes roy can let himself be a sexy little baybeh too. the lovable prick chimes in when he can’t help it, and it all settles something deep in roy’s chest. like he’s really become a part of something sacred and special.
maybe here, bewilderedly staring up at the very same ceiling jamie tartt has vulnerably unraveled himself under countless times, roy kent is allowed. and these days, roy does get his goodbye mum hug for the road, and he still does part ways with an i love you. but now he can’t hold back the burning in his eyes when she adds on “son” to the end of hers, like an afterthought. who is he to deny a welcoming family, after all these years?
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you know when there’s a symptom of your disorder or whatever and you’re like nahh I don’t have/do that. but then you get hit in the face with the realization that YEAH YOU DO. anyway. I believe I am in fact Impulsive
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Whenever I meet an Egyptian man from Cairo I ask them what soccer team they support (Ahli or Zamalek), then I start an argument with them about how the other team is better. I don’t even know anything about the teams.
I even did it to a guy on one of those shady chat sites. He wanted me to send nudes but as soon as I insulted his team he was only interested in debating about the teams.
I know it’s probably a flaw in my character but it’s so funny how angry they get and how fast.
god forbid you ever meet my dad, he would pop several blood vessels
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i have three writing modes.
the words are just Happening and only the devil can hold me back. in a sprint i'd clock in at like 50wpm. everyone fears me
zero words all day i sat there and just. stared at a blank document, had an existential crisis, contemplated deleting everything and probably went to bed at 4pm
lastly, what i like to call the "tug-of-war". an active battle between #1 and #2. writing is slow, painful, and conscious. at any minute i could slip into #2 and just give up. sometimes there is the chance the session will become good tho, and i 'll slip into #1.
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my vibe of the week so far very much seems to be 'writing as if i'm on fire'
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i NEED to get off tumblr for the day, I've spent all day just booping..there's so much work I should have gotten done at like 10 this morning and it's almost 8 at night.....but booping........
Tumblr it is, goodbye work, you are the background tab now.
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Oh why do I have violent and sexual intrusive thoughts that distress me to the point of panic - me, after scrolling blogs with violent and sexual content because I'm a fucking idiot
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