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#physical violence mention

ddarker-dreams · 1 year

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I think in all your Chrollo works his punishment for his darling are more or less mentally.

Do you think there can be something darling does that may lead him in hurting them physically?

honestly ,, it may be in part due to my aversion to depict physical violence on the reader, but i can't really see chrollo going for that??

slimy as it sounds, he'd view that as being too easy. instilling a 'healthy' dose of fear is what he wants. in the back of your mind, the possibility lingers, a threat you have no idea if he'll ever act on. you've seen his otherworldly strength and speed, that alone is enough to occasionally give you pause. you can hear him in the kitchen downstairs, and if you were to bump into something and make a pained noise as a result, the dude practically manifests by your side in a second.

the most physical he'd ever get would be if he's in a situation where he can't rely on his normal tactics, aka being in public. the whole 'threatening those you care about' shtick is bound to raise a few eyebrows. instead, if you're testing your limits, his grip on you will get tight. not enough to bruise, but enough to (hopefully for you) get his point across. he almost always has an arm around your shoulder/waist so it won't look out of the ordinary either.

tbh, the biggest punishment is being in his presence. there is no greater displeasure. he'll take your 3ds away if he thinks you're playing ACNL too much when he's around. he's a menace to society.

#physical violence mention #i hope that's the proper way to tag it ???#chrollo brainrot #answered #Anonymous

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adragonsfriend · 19 days

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Padme was not a Witness

I will never join the “Padmé was stupid to go to Mustafar” parade—she had valid reason to believe in the possibility of Anakin’s redemption—but there’s something awful in the fact that she didn’t have to witness either of his massacres.

Obi-Wan and Yoda walk past the bodies of their people—of their people’s children. Bail Organa goes to the temple and sees a kid get shot down trying to escape (more clones than Anakin, but still).

Padme hears about the second massacre after sitting in her apartment while the Temple was on fire. She’s told about them in vague terms. “I killed them like animals,” “he killed younglings,” She has a touch of denial when she goes to Mustafar partly because of her belief in Anakin, but partly because—I think—the Tuskan Massacre was never fully real to her. She understands it intellectually of course, but violence on that scale is difficult to conceptualise without seeing it, especially if it’s easier to just let it go. If she’d seen the bodies? Or seen Anakin kill them? She watched that one refugee kid die slowly, not at all violently, when she was working with the refugee organisation, and it affected her for the rest of her life. It is not a lack of caring on Padmé’s part that’s the problem.

Imagine being Obi-Wan listening to Padme saying “there’s still good in him,” after walking through the Temple, seeing the lightsaber marks on knights and children alike—not even to mention seeing her get strangled. It sounds not only wild, but honestly deeply offensive on more levels than one (besides the obvious issues it’s another, “train the boy,” prioritise Anakin over everything moment, except this time Obi-wan’s entire world has been torn apart, rather than just losing his Master)

If Padmé had actually been a witness to Anakin’s violence? If it was made present and visceral to her?

I think her opinions and her actions would’ve been different.

Thematically, it is crucial that when Luke goes to the second Death Star, he is under no illusions about who Anakin is or what he’s done, and in his most desperate moment he chooses to ask Anakin for help anyway. Padmé goes to him still a bit in denial, still a bit convinced things can return to how they once were. When she starts to push at the illusion, Anakin accuses her of betraying him and strangles her to shut her up, attempting to preserve the illusion (the difference between Anakin’s state at the time of his confrontations with Padmé and Luke is a whole other, very important topic). In part, her illusion allows Anakin to believe he can preserve the past (to be clear—he is the only one responsible for the choice to strangle her; Padme being imperfect is not an excuse for domestic abuse).

Side note, but if anyone is not sufficiently freaked out by Anakin strangling Padmé, it's important to know that strangulation is one of the flashing red warnings that physical abuse is doing to turn deadly, very, very quickly.

Luke’s complete and honest knowledge of Anakin’s worst self means there is nothing for Anakin to lose except his son, exactly as he is. No illusions, no wonderful past, not even any good memories together. Just his son.

To me, that’s one of several reasons (both thematic and logistical) why Padmé’s plea fails where Luke’s succeeds. None of those reasons has anything to do with her being stupid to go in the first place.

(There are some wonderful fanfics out there that show Padmé actually making her disapproval about the Tuskan massacre—both despite and because of her love—actively known during their marriage, and I think that interpretation of her is a stronger character than ROTS gives us, and more in line with what we’re shown in the first movie)

#star wars #padme amidala #obi wan kenobi #yoda #anakin skywalker #bail organa #luke skywalker #tw child death #tw violence #tw abuse #tw abuse mention #tw physical abuse

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uncanny-tranny · 6 months

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The first mistake I see people make is assuming there are completely "nonviolent" ways to be transphobic. It seems like some people conceptualize transphobia as being either violent (which is always physical in some way) or nonviolent (which is "simple" emotional, verbal, or psychological abuse)

It seems, also, that people presume that when somebody has "noble" intentions for their transphobia - "I'm trying to save you!" for instance - it is suddenly nonviolent. Consider, though, how a transphobe would "save" a trans person. Would they allow that person to exist unadulterated (including being able to transition), or would they prefer to put them through conversion therapy, or revoke their access to bodily autonomy, or force them to have children, or anything that will prevent them from transition or even identifying as trans or otherwise tying them down with the obligations that prevent transition or identifying as trans?

There is no true "nonviolent" way to be transphobic because being transphobic relies on denying one the ability to autonomy and personhood. Fundamentally, even the transphobes who "want to save us" only do so in their own self-interest to save them from the horror of knowing that more people than they are alive and thriving.

#trans #transgender #lgbt #lgbtq #ftm #mtf #nonbinary #transphobia #transphobia tw #it's just very frustrating when i see people act as though some transphobia is more acceptable than other forms...#...simply because it isn't overt with how much it wants trans people eradicated...#...transphobes will do whatever it takes both for their comfort and also to wipe the world clean of trans people #in some cases it looks like infantilism ('youre so young! poor thing you're being MANIPULATED😭') or...#...it could look like outright cut-and-dry violence (conversion therapy or physical abuse). it all depends on the situation...#...what stays the same is the sheer level of hatred and scorn for trans people and the trans condition...#...and it is in that hatred and scorn that you find that ALL forms of transphobia are united...#...so it is just as important to combat ALL forms of transphobia #abuse #abuse tw #abuse mention tw

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one-time-i-dreamt · 2 years

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Adam Sandler

Adam Sandler told me that I needed to stop copying his look, and to drink more water. He then replaced all the food in my house with slightly healthier food, sorted it all out into reasonable portions, punched me in the face, then left.

#dream #text #July 13th 2022 #adam sandler #water #drinking #food #food mention #violence tw #physical violence tw #queueueueueueueueueueueueueue

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devilsskettle · 23 days

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i think some of the popularity that meta horror has garnered is a little bit disingenuous tbqh even though i do like some of the movies that have come out of the subgenre, people don’t realize that the foundation of the slasher genre was established in the 60s/70s and a lot of the 80s movies that have become so classic were already riffing off of the tropes established by those movies before full fledged meta took off. the idea to make friday the 13th was sparked by the commercial success of halloween. the original script for slumber party massacre was a parody of the genre and the movie retains much of that humor which is referential to past slashers by nature. + it intentionally uses typical slasher tropes around gender and sexuality to bring forward the concerns of teenage girls. is that not something that meta horror is frequently touted as doing? child’s play is like a slasher, “except —” which is what a lot of meta horror comedies do now (“slasher except it’s a possessed doll” is not that far off from “slasher except it’s freaky friday” and whatnot). this isn’t to say that scream isn’t foundational to what the slasher genre evolved into or that contemporary meta slashers aren’t doing something interesting but i also think they tend to lean towards cynicism towards the movies they’re deriving their themes from + they’re not even as different as they think they are from “classic” 80s movies that already are borrowing from classic slashers which in turn borrowed from even older horror (for example, in halloween, laurie is watching the thing from another world from the 50s which was adapted into the now classic john carpenter’s the thing in the 80s). and of course many of these older horror movies were adapted from literature which also inspired more literature. like the shelley/byron/polidori scary story writing contest is now legendary but also you don’t get the shining without the haunting of hill house (and you don’t get the haunting of hill house without turn of the screw, for example) and the shining is probably one of the most referenced movies by other media of all time. horror has always been an intertextual genre let’s stop pretending it didn’t become “self aware” until 1996

#+ scream used a framework for examining slasher tropes outlined in men women and chainsaws in 1992 #bringing the term ‘final girl’ + the ‘rules’ of slasher movies into pop culture #so not only is it working from the canon of slasher movies that already exists #but it also is looking at this academic text that establishes a credible film + gender studies lens for the slasher genre #omg not to mention what the author has to say about slasher-adjacent movies that are critically acclaimed #— movies that use a slasher framework for the plot that address similar themes #but distance themselves by making the violence + resolution of conflict less direct #(i.e. moving the conflict from the physical to the psychological) for example silence of the lambs is one movie she cites #making similar themes + similar conflicts more palatable to a wider audience #which is like the opposite response of meta slasher to the classic slasher canon #i guess if you want to make a slasher movie that isn’t really a slasher movie you have two options — lean into it or lean away from it lol #anyway all this is to say. idk whatever i’m bored + too depressed to get up and do anything productive rn #anyway. count how many times i say ‘for example’ in this post

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sexhaver · 1 year

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one of my favorite internet phenomena is when someone from a city without snow learns about the tradition of marking your parking spot with a chair/random object after clearing snow from it, specifically the part where there's a massive taboo against anyone else moving the chair or parking there. at some point theyll inevitably ask "what, so if i move someone's folding chair and park there, they're just allowed to key my car and slash my tires?" as if it's an argument-ending gotcha, only to be met with a chorus of "yes lol"s from people who have shoveled out a parking spot before

#this is not condoning actual physical violence over parking spots #if i dont put that tag i KNOW some smartass is going to mention the guy who shot both of his neighbors and then himself over a parking spot

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levmada · 1 year

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99% of the time Levi wakes up, he’s going to jolt and shoot a look around his surroundings, startled.

How could he have ever found a “safe” place to sleep in the underground? and when he did sleep, how often was he startled awake by commotion in the street, his own hunger or injuries, or a gun to his head … or a combination of those?

Kenny would never have let him “sleep in”. As a part of his training Levi was definitely taught to be alert 24 hours a day. Maybe he stuffed a pillow over his face each time Levi never sensed him coming in time, or threw him off of his thin, bare mattress on the floor.

He can’t sleep. But when he does sleep, he suffers no shortage of nightmares. How many of those chase him out of sleep anyway? When he wakes up, he’s always startled.

But there’s no shortage of suffering when he’s awake, either.

#sad feelings -> sad levi #levi will never find true peace. in this essay i will #levi hcs #levi ackerman hcs #levi ackerman angst #levi ackerman headcanons #levi drabble #levi.thoughts #tw physical violence #tw physical abuse #tw nightmares #tw gun mention

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good-beanswrites · 6 months

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LCSYS ask again(undercover asker here hiiiiiaufhghghgn)thank you for responding!!!! ilovfe seeing your ideas theyre such good fuel in between trials❤️❤️

i was wondering how th prisoners would react to es’ usage of violence, like some of the younger prisoners complaining about it while the older are concerned because Hello Where did that stem from???? you cant tell me es’ “phew, i feel so much better” after hitting shidou didn’t send his mind racing a million miles per minute

ALSO curious about YONAH………… similar to how red’s violence towards es was scripted, was kotoko’s monologue about es being imperfect Also scripted, or was it on her own? yonah is probably my favourite voice drama of all time and I’m curious about how it would be interpreted in this au 🫶

Ah hello again! Thank you so much for reaching out -- every time I think I've covered everything you guys hit me with a new insane detail that makes my brain go brrrrr >:3

Because OMG I spent so much time thinking of the faked violence, I don't know why I never put as much attention on the flipside! I love the idea of Jackalope assuring them, "there will be no physical punishments. We'll talk about restraints but that's all fake. We'll make up injuries between trials but that's all fake. You don't have to worry about any real pain." And then this 15yo strolls up, interrogation one, ready to smack someone😅😅😅

Seriously though, I think it would come as a pretty big surprise to the group. They knew it was a possibility, but didn't think Es was that likely to attack, since they've made a few comments about being against violent punishments. Haruka comes back to mention the slap, and Yuno follows their instructions and says she also suffered violence, and the group is Shocked. I think it would just kill Fuuta that he wasn't allowed to hit back and avenge the others. He probably has the most complaints about the situation (and is insanely relieved that he get by in his own interrogation.) In a feeble attempt to get back at Es and make them feel bad, he encourages Muu to cry and make a big show about being afraid of them. Muu is frightened enough that it doesn't take much persuasion... I think Kotoko and unfortunately Amane wouldn't mind the threat, they both have lives in which authority showing power isn't out of place (and maybe Haruka?). Mahiru, too, thinks it's just the way a prison guard can run their prison if they want, though she's determined her charm will keep things running pleasantly.

Kazui reaches out asap* to question the legality of the experiment, since they're allowing children to get hit, even if by other children. There's a tangle of signatures and consent from everyone involved so it's okay, but the whole thing still rubs him the wrong way. He knew the experiment was a bit shady, but he(Though, this does make his first vd kind of funny -- instead of actually talking through his theories on the prison, now it feels like he's just egging Es on to see if they'll actually hit him...)

And I really like that idea that Shidou's dad instincts kick in (or maybe it's doctor instincts)! He'd understand if it was a child trying to play the role of an intimidating adult, but the way Es is doing things, the things they're saying, it all points to something deeper going on in Es' head. I can see him sitting down with the others and Jackalope to discuss. Of course Milgram gives him very little to work with, but this still kickstarts everyone's efforts to make sure Es is also taken care of post-Milgram.

*I just realized I'm still a bit fuzzy on communication during the trials. Jackalope can definitely get information to the prisoners (most commonly the 'voices' they're supposed to be hearing based on Es' notes, but also in case of emergency changes or things). I was picturing the prisoners unable to communicate outward until the trial ends, as it builds up the feeling of isolation and imprisonment. The issue is, I feel like Jackalope would want to keep that line open in case the prisoners had questions/issues with the experiment that affected their acting. So idk if the prisoners voice these concerns about Es mid-trial or they're forced to wait. I'll get back to you on that, hm

And Yonah!!

I wasn't avoiding spoilers, I actively looked for snippets here and there, but it was this ask that finally motivated me to sit down and watch it through -- and I'm SO GLAD I DID 👀 It's really well-written and wonderfully acted!! I'm floored with the whole thing omg

I really like the idea that the Milgram team instructed Kotoko to mention Es' imperfection to rattle them a bit, but left the specifics to her. Jackalope thought she'd just make some quick comment, and does a double take when he listens in on the interrogation and realizes she has a lot to say on Es and the way Milgram is run.

Jacklope told her to be harsh with Es, and she thought that was no problem at all. She felt those opinions strongly and wasn't going to go easy on the criticism just because they were a kid. She goes into the interrogation ready to stay completely put-together... and then surprises everyone and herself when Es' distress moves her to pull them into a tight hug and tell them everything's going to be alright ;---;

#milgram #es #ill have to peek back through the material but i definitely remember es saying they dont have to worry about violence #and also openly condemning kotoko and other violent reactions #so the sudden switch would get their gears turning 👀#operation 'save es from whatever crap is going on' begins as early as t1 #more in line with canon than the au but capri had a thorough post about es' attacks and stuff with physical touch -- maybe i go peek at tha #i think theres more angst if the prisoners cant communicate with Anyone during the trials -- theyre completely sealed off #but i feel like it may cause more problems than its worth... but if its just a story i can just write those logistic problems away lol...#thank you for the ask!! i also need fuel between such long breaks of content so it makes me so happy to chat about this :D #and i appreciate the little nudge to watch yonah -- i can def see why its your favorite omg #that last moment i mentioned is SO important to me -- it reveals a huge part of kotoko that i think even she doesnt fully realize ;-;#tw child abuse #yonah spoilers #lights camera sing your sins

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biblionerd07 · 25 days

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Things the Shameless writers wrote that I do not accept as canon:

1. Mickey spelling Ian’s name wrong on his tattoo. (Give me a fucking break.)

2. Ian laughing with Caleb about Mickey’s forced marriage and rape. (Also I didn’t actually see anything of Caleb except this and like 10 seconds of their date but wouldn’t you expect the guy who asked Ian if he’s a victim of DV to be a bit more sensitive about rape…?)

3. Ian and Mickey both going to Terry fucking Milkovich for advice???? And Terry being softened into comic relief literally AS he’s still trying to murder Mickey?????

4. Mickey implying he’s been letting other guys blow him after he and Ian got married. (In WHAT fucking world.)

5. Mickey suddenly getting self-conscious about bottoming and the entire “who’s the man in our relationship” bullshit and Ian not wanting to be “the bitch”. (Bash my head into a wall.)

6. Ian telling Mickey he doesn’t have his whole heart???????? (HE WOULD NOT FUCKING SAY THAT!!!!)

#there’s more stuff I hate but these are the worst offenders that make me need to flip a table #shameless us #Ian/mickey #like I fucking HATE the mayo thing and it’s an example of straight writers thinking they’re funny but I guess I can just be annoyed #all of these are things that make me need to do physical violence #how is Ian saying ‘gender is a social construct’ IN THE EPISODE where he’s complaining about ‘being the woman’#Ian tells Mickey they can switch in s7 and Mickey says no #Mickey’s not even self-conscious about bottoming while he’s still closeted and full of self-hatred and I’m supposed to believe he is NOW???#’he gives it to me hard and I fucking love it!’ and ‘liking what I like don’t make me a bitch’ but now this??? kiss my ass #rape mention #the decision to lean into the absurdist comedy aspect made the show soooo much worse #it was so much better in the early seasons when it was a dramedy

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inkblot22 · 8 months

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Shattered Glass

I have been putting zero effort into these titles lmao help me

TW for yandere, captivity, sadism, physical abuse, condescending behavior. Yandere punishments are something I'd like to write more of, so this is what that is.

You hate it when he takes off his glasses.

You don’t even know what you did wrong this time. Why is he upset? He always does the same few motions, same few things before he “disciplines” you, and you always hate it.

First, he takes off his glasses and places them calmly by his side. He always does so, never faltering once in his tradition. Is it because he doesn’t trust you not to break them when you inevitably fight back, or is it because he doesn’t want to risk them falling off of his face or getting fogged up or something similar? You don’t know, and you’d argue that you don’t want to know.

Trey slips them off of his face and tucks them in his pocket, giving you a wan smile, his eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly as he takes a few steps closer to where you sit on your makeshift bed in this dumb gardening shed.

His voice is neutral when he speaks, “Honey…” That’s the other thing he does. Step two. Trey uses some pet name to refer to you, his voice betraying no emotion as he steps closer towards you. It makes you feel tense, triggers that primal fight or flight reflex into freeze. When he crouches before you and cups your chin, that thin smile falling into a disappointed frown, you do the same thing you’ve always done.

You shove him away and try to run. You would imagine after however many months you’ve been here, you would have learned your lesson on trying to fight back or get away, because it plays like it was rehearsed. You kick backwards after shoving his hands away from you, sprawling out onto the thin mat you’ve called a bed for the past three or so months before you regain your balance and swivel your body so you can run.

Trey is sweet. Trey is sweet and kind, he has this warm, brotherly personality and a generous heart. But Trey is also a sadistic asshole, which is why he always waits until you’ve taken one step, only one step away from being out of arm’s reach, to grab your ankle and yank backwards as strongly as he can.

Trey isn’t a small guy either. When he does it, every single time it plays like a twisted slapstick cartoon, with you crashing to the ground with a resounding thud, rattling the old rakes and shit in here. And every time it happens, he always makes this smug little face, especially when you start kicking at him.

“Aw, c’mon, honey, don’t do that. You’re only gonna hurt yourself.” He says it like he’s talking to a child.

When he says you’ll hurt yourself, he typically means that he is going to hurt you, but it’ll be your fault. You learned that the first time you had an “argument,” but you suppose you are lucky because he isn’t brutal. He doesn’t derive sick pleasure from the simple sight of you in pain, he derives pleasure from the broken look in your eyes when you give up for the moment.

With his hands clamped around both your ankles at this point, he smiles briefly and step three begins. He yanks you closer in one swift movement and slaps you hard across the apple of your cheek. It’s always so loud, and you imagine to an outsider you just look more like a married couple in the 50s when it happens. His hands are solid, likely as a result of kneading dough for basically his whole life. You usually have to fight back the tears after it happens, often failing miserably.

As you recover from the blow, that single, stinging blow, he pulls you up by the shoulders and leans close to your face, close enough so you can feel the breath puffing out of his nose on your face. He smiles again before step four in the punishment process occurs.

He calmly explains what you did that caused him to get upset.

“Why did you think that freshman would help you?” It was a one in a million chance. The gardening shed you’ve been holed away in has been abandoned for a while since Heartslaybul got a much larger, much nicer one, but sometimes the freshmen get the two mixed up, especially since they’re both fairly easy to find and look near identical, the only true difference in peeling paint and other weathering.

Trey’s eyes are sharp when he asks the question. It isn’t why you asked for help, since his denial of the situation he has put you in is nonexistent, and it isn’t how could you ask for help, because he doesn’t expect you to be so irrational that you think you belong here yet. No, he wants to know what you expected would happen, why you thought that your plan would pan out.

His glasses are still tucked securely in his pocket, he’s cupping your chin, and you think you’re out of luck. Because despite all, despite him being a sweet, kind man by nature, Trey is a sadist, and he won’t stop until you break.

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sortofanobsession · 1 year

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Unsure and Unconventional, to say the least (Ted Lasso Fic)

Author's note: because the Uncle's Day scenes made me think a lot of things. Phoebe would have Jamie wrapped around her finger in like .01 seconds. They would be a mischievous duo. And the team would be like awww that's cute.

Parts of this fic partially Inspired by:

an answered ask (HERE) by @andfrecklesandyoursmile about Roy giving his sister Jamie's contact for "emergencies".

@politelymenacing did a post that (THIS ONE) That may have helped inspire some dialog.

So credit to those brilliant post.

Ted Lasso Masterlist

OT3 Roy/Keeley/Jamie Romantic ship. Platonic team dynamics.

Content warning: Cursing/Swearing (lots of it because Roy Kent is gonna Roy Kent), Mentions of abuse, Mentions of physical violence, Mentions of hospitals, Self-Esteem Issues (because Jamie Tartt...), Polyamory, Anxiety, Anger Issues, Fear.

Word count: 8k+ (this one got away from me and that is why it took days to finish)

Read on AO3 here

Unsure and Unconventional, to say the least

“Coach?” Will says as he nears Roy Kent as the coach oversees training on the pitch. “Someone’s here to see you. They’re in the office.”

Roy’s brows furrow. He wasn’t expecting anyone. Keeley would have just come out and joined them on the sidelines. He grunts in acknowledgment and heads inside.

“Uncle Roy!” he hears as soon as he reaches the doorway.

“Phoebe?” He says, accepting the little girl’s hug when she reaches him. He looks over to see his sister talking to Trent Crimm. Trent Crimm moves to the doorway. Stopping to offer to take Phoebe so she could say hi to the team.

“Can I please, Uncle Roy? I want to say hi to Jamie,” Phoebe looks up at him with those big eyes he just can’t say no to, or at least say no and mean it. He looks to his sister, who shrugs.

“What? They're friends now too,” his sister says, challenge clear in her tone. “That a problem, Roy?”

Trent watches the Kent siblings with silent interest. Phoebe practically buzzed with excitement as she waits for an answer next to him.

“A 25-year-old prick cannot be friends with an 8-year-old girl,” Roy glares.

“That bridge is long crossed, dear brother,” she laughs. “Especially after Uncle's day.”

“Uncle's day?” Trent asks with a grin.

“Fuck off, Crimm,” Roy grunts. His sister just gives him a fond and familiar look. “Fine,” Roy relents. “You can go say hi to Jamie, but stay out of the line of play. And don’t-”

But she is already gone, an amused Trent following close behind. Phoebe tells him all about Uncle's day as she goes.

His sister grins. “She’s just going to bother Jamie. Thought you’d at least find that amusing.”

Roy grunts. “Too bad the prick will enjoy it.” Roy winces it. “That just sounds so fucked up.”

“You make it sound so wrong that she likes your friends,” his sister says. “That you think the people you have surrounded yourselves with are criminals.”

“How would you know if they are or aren’t?” he glares at her.

“Because you’d have kicked them in the teeth and sent them packing if they were. Jamie Tartt might be a prick, but even I know he’d probably die before letting anything happen to Phoe, especially if his childhood was half as shit as you’ve said. And he can’t be a complete twat if he sat through the whole of Uncle's day.” She grins.

“Alright, cut the shit. What’s wrong?” He is quick to change the topic. “I know you’re not here to talk about Jamie fucking Tartt?”

“You sure about that?” She raises a brow. He growls. “Fine, I need you to take her this weekend. One of my colleagues was supposed to speak at a conference, and the prick went and caught something on holiday.”

“So now you have to go?” he asks.

“Fuck no,” she says. “I’m covering for the poor bastard that does, which means I’m working a double.”

“Fuck that,” Roy says, annoyed on her behalf.

“I know you have a match, and this might ruin your plans with Keeley-" she starts, but he doesn't care what else she has to say.

“Fuck off. It’s fine. We’ll take her,” Roy doesn’t even hesitate to say. “Kid always comes first. You know that.”

“I know,” she nods. "Thanks."

"You don't need to fucking thank me," he states.

"I don't, but I'm still going to, you fucking prick," she says fondly. "Every time, no matter how much you curse or growl."

"You could have just texted me," Roy says.

"Yeah, but then I couldn't ruin your whole day by asking you the same question you have avoided answering. Can't avoid it in person."

Roy growls, and his glare intensifies. Most people would probably hesitate to continue. Or even hurry to leave. Not his sister. She was used to Roy's behavior decades ago. Roy would kill for his sister. Die for Phoebe. And he'd do it happily. She knew that.

"Roy, you can't just ignore your feelings forever." She holds a hand up to stop whatever argument he was about to make. "You can, and you probably would. I know you, Roy. I know that you-"

"Don't," he cautions. She sighs.

"You might think that you're hurting just yourself here, but you're not. And that's not fair to anyone." She doesn’t drop specific names because she doesn’t want to risk anyone hearing the specifics. And she knows there isn't any point in pushing more now. "And I know you don't actually want to hurt him. You'll make the right call eventually." She grins. Before heading in the direction of the tunnel out to the pitch.

"You're lucky that you're my sister," he growls when he catches up to her.

"And that you love us, I know," she bumps her shoulder against his. He hums more than he grunts for once as he walks. He gives into that voice in the back of his head that he used to always ignore when in public, even if it's just the dog track on a training day. He puts his arm around her shoulder and pulls her into a half hug as they walk. God, she might be a pain in the arse, but he loved his sister and her kid. He may have smiled just a little as she returned the gesture.

"You know I'm just trying to look out for you. Like you always do us," she says as they walk out of the tunnel toward the pitch. "You may think you're happy now, just think how much better it could be."

"You spend too much time with Keeley, and she spends too much time with Ted and Rebecca," he laments.

"I'm just glad we finally get to spend time with your friends. Richmond really has brought the best out of that boy from Chelsea that kicked Brock Lorens' arse at the commons."

"Do it again, too," Roy grunts. "Fucking deserved it."

"He was a bellend," she grins.

"He gave you a black eye. That's not a bellend. That's a fucker with a death wish."

"Who has a death wish now?" Ted asks as they reach them. Roy drops his arm as they do. "Hey there, Doc." Ted greets her.

"Coach Lasso, Crimm," she nods. "Coach Beard." He responds with a nod.

She turns her attention back to Ted as he speaks. "Glad to see you outside the ER, or is it ED here? Heh, that always sounds so odd to me. ED means something very different where I'm from," Ted says. "Probably just nice to get out of those scrubs. Those always seemed so starchy," he continues earning an amused look from her and a growl from Roy.

"It is nice to meet in a less sterile but just as chaotic environment," she says. Her brother has warned her to pretty much ignore most of what Ted Lasso says. She looks out to where Phoebe has seemed to draw the attention of most of the Richmond team. "Hopefully, my daughter hasn't caused too much commotion."

"Aw, the boys could always use a bit of a break," Ted assures her. "No harm, no foul."

She chuckles as a player, one she recognizes as Dani Rojas gives Phoebe a bear hug that lifts her feet off the ground. Phoebe's laughter carried across the pitch. Her brother grunts. She knew she was pushing it the longer they hung around. Her brother used to keep his professional and personal lives separate. Didn't like the way his teammates would look at her. This team was different. He seemed to trust them a lot more. And she could seem to see why. But she was still playing a dangerous game, treading on her brother's nerves. He takes his job very seriously, and they were disrupting it.

"Should probably let you lot get back to it."

"Well, go on, coach," Ted says to Roy. "Know you want to."

His sister is smart enough to step away. Moving closer to Ted and Beard. Doesn't even flinch when Roy shouts. "Oi! This is training, not a fucking playdate! Put her down and get back to your fucking drills!” She just shakes her head.

"Been dying to ask," Ted keeps his voice low as he leans towards her. "He always been like that?"

"He's been Roy Fucking Kent since the day he was born," she says with a grin. "But he has his moments. You can say he was a very protective older brother. Don't know why I said was. Still very much is."

"Like dealing with whoever had that death wish?" Ted asks, low tone forgotten.

"Fuckin' Lorens. I'd smash his face in if he showed that ugly mug around here," Roy grumbles.

"Again?" His sister smirks.

"Yes, again. Fucking twat." Roy growls.

Ted looked between the Kent siblings. "That bad, huh?"

"No one lays a hand on either one of them if they want to keep it," Roy states.

"What did you tell his mates the next day when they threatened to go to the teachers?" She grins.

"To fucking do it," Roy says. "That I'd give them a detailed list of every fucking thing they'd ever done to any kid in her class."

"He then listed them, chronologically accurate."

"Then told those fucks that if they even breathed at my sister wrong, their teeth would be in the pavement."

"Wow," was all Ted could say.

"So yes, Coach Lasso, I can assure you, he has always been some version of this Roy Fucking Kent."

"Fucking, right," Roy says.

"And yes, I got more first aid training patching up his sorry arse after fights than I did in medical school."

*-*-*-*

(Earlier during training…)

Jamie’s head snapped up when the pitch goes quiet. He had stopped to stretch out an annoying knot in his hamstring. The striker wondered why drills had stopped despite no whistle. Not even Roy’s shout of it. He looked up at his teammates, Sam and Jan being the closest. Sam was grinning. Then something collides with his back. He immediately tensed up until small arms snaked around his neck. Jamie let out the breath he was holding and huffs a laugh.

“Just gonna run right out an’ tackle me, Phoebs?” Jamie laughs.

“Keeley says you like hugs,” Phoebe says in his ear.

“Especially, Phoebe-shaped ones,” he says with a nod. He reaches around with one arm to anchor her to him as he shifts to stand up. Earning a few curious looks from his teammates. Jamie couldn’t have possibly cared less. When he is on his feet, he reaches up with his other arm to keep hers secure around his neck. He spins her around. She laughs. It’s an infectious noise that causes a few of his teammates to chuckle. When he stops, Phoebe giggles and says she’s dizzy now. He goes to let her down, but her grip only tightens. He can’t help but smile.

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone got sick on the pitch,” Sam says.

“Roy would love that,” Colin says as he and others join them, all of training seemingly unofficially put on hold.

“Speakin’ of,” Jamie starts as he makes exaggerated motions as he turns to look around. Phoebe laughs as he swings her around. “Where is the grumpy prick?” Jamie asks having not seen the man. Phoebe giggles, but before she can chastise him for his language, he adds, “Yeah, I know, it’s a bad word, innit? Pay ya next time.” His teammates laugh. He feels her nod more than sees it.

“Mum said she needed to talk to him and that I could come say hi,” Phoebe tells him.

“Well, hi,” Jamie says.

“Hi,” she laughs.

“Say hi to the lads, Phoebs,” Jamie grins.

“Hi lads,” she parrots, earning amused greetings from the now bigger group of players.

“You here for more than Jamie hugs?” Sam asks.

“Do you want a hug?” Phoebe asks, and the others laugh.

"I did not mean-" Sam starts to say but is cut off by Jamie.

“I’m sure the lads wouldn’t turn one down,” Jamie grins. Phoebe shifts, and Jamie lets her down. Sam does indeed accept a hug. A few of the others do too. Dani Rojas makes her laugh by picking her up off her feet and swinging her around.

“Oi!” They hear from the side of the pitch. “This is training, not a fucking playdate! Put her down and get back to your fucking drills!”

“Sorry, Uncle Roy,” Phoebe says at the same time the others say, “Yes, Coach.” Jamie just huffs, scoops her up and jogs them over, and sets Phoebe down on the sideline by her mom and uncle.

"Lovely as ever, Doc," Jamie winks, greeting Roy's sister.

"Charming as always, Tartt," she returns. Roy growls. "Alright. Steady on," she says, patting Roy's arm. "Say goodbye to Jamie and the coaches, Phoe."

"Bye, Jamie. Bye, Coach and Coach." She hugs Roy. "Bye, Uncle Roy."

"See you this weekend," Roy tells her as he hugs her back.

"Think about what I said," his sister says in a low tone to Roy, glancing at Jamie as she does. Jamie gives her a confused look, but she just grins as she pulls away. "Laters team," she says louder to the group. She takes Phoebe's hand and leaves.

*-*-*-*

“She’s gonna be a heartbreaker that gets legs broken,” Isaac says to the group as they watch the interaction on the sidelines.

“And that’d be the lucky ones Coach likes,” Colin adds.

“Not just Coach,” Sam mutters.

“Nah, Tartt would aim for faces,” Isaac says. “Kent would make sure no one’s walking away, but Tartt knows too well how they think. No helpin’ the ones that break her heart.”

“Make the outside match the inside,” Colin nods. “Break her heart, and they’ll be lucky if those two break their face.” A few of the players grimace, and the others nod in agreement.

“Fucking get to it, or you’re all running laps til I say so!” Roy shouts.

Jamie shakes his head as he joins them. “Might want to hustle, lads,” Jamie smirks. “As soon as she’s gone, he’ll run ya til you’re the ones sick on the pitch.”

“Yeah, alright,” Isaac says. “Back to it.”

They all head back to drills.

*-*-*-*

Roy is not surprised, but still annoyed, to find Jamie waiting for him after training. The locker room is empty but for Jamie. Roy resists the urge to go back into the office, but he knows Jamie would just keep waiting. Jamie was already in his street clothes, scrolling through his phone, and sitting like the fucking prick never learned how to properly use a chair.

"What the fuck are you still doing here?" Roy asks.

"Took ya long enough," Jamie says, getting to his feet. "So your sister-"

"Don't even think about it, Tartt," Roy growls.

Jamie holds his hands up at the sheer rage in Roy's tone, but he doesn't flinch or back away. "I wasn't gonna say anything like that, fuckin hell."

"Then what?"

"Just wonderin' why they dropped by. Not usually her thing," Jamie says. "Gotta be important to drop by in person, no text or shit."

Roy knew he had a point. He'd been concerned himself when Phoebe had run up to him. The only reason he hadn't been scared shitless that something was wrong was that no one was in tears, or as much as in tears that any of the Kents get. That image was seared in his brain from when that no good waste of space ex of hers left them.

"They're fine," Roy says as they head out to the car park.

"So we don't need to hide a body or slash any tires?" Jamie asks. If Roy didn't know any better, he would have thought Jamie sounded disappointed. When Roy doesn't say anything, Jamie looks up at him. "What?" Jamie asks. "Phoebe seemed fine, so I thought maybe-"

"Since when do you have thoughts about my sister? Since when do you have thoughts?!"

Jamie rolls his eyes. "Excuse me for giving a shit about your life and family."

Roy sighs. "Phoebe is fine. My sister, she is fine. She has to work a double this weekend and needs someone to watch Phoebe."

"I can-"

"No, you cannot," Roy stops walking as he reaches his car. "You have a match."

"So do you, Coach," Jamie counters.

"Well aware," Roy says. "She'll be in the box with Keeley."

"She'll love that," Jamie grins.

"Like I said, they're fine, so go home, Tartt."

*-*-*-*

"There she is!" Jamie says, picking Phoebe up in a hug and setting her feet on the bench so she was out of the usual chaos of the locker room. He glanced around. Everyone was still riding the high of winning the match. "Have fun with Keeley in the owner's box?"

"Yes!" Phoebe was quick to answer. Jamie did his best to keep her focus on him. He usually wouldn't give a shit about his team's manners. Even when it was Keeley or Ms. Welton in the room, Phoebe is 8. She's an innocent kid.

"Tell me about it," he says as he puts on a new shirt. Thankful that Keeley must have timed it so most of them would be wrapping up in the locker room by the time Phoebe got there. She starts telling him all about watching the game.

"You scored a goal!" Phoebe beams at him. Jamie can't help but smile.

Cockburn chuckles as he closes his cubby.

"Colin did, too," Jamie says.

"Keeley said you helped then, too," Phoebe says.

"That's what teammates do, Phoebs, you know that. You play on your own team."

"Less fun now that Uncle Roy coaches you," she says. A chorus of awws has Jamie looking over his shoulder. A few of the players were hovering.

"I'm sure your uncle misses coaching you, too," Sam says as he approaches.

"Richmond pays better," Jan states. "Would be silly to pick a children's league over-"

"Fuck off, Jan Maas," Jamie grumbles. "She's 8, and he still coaches her team when he can."

"Jamie…" Phoebe says, and she holds out her hand. Jamie feigns annoyance as he moves around the edge of the bench. He does reach up and put a hand on her arm to make sure she doesn't get knocked off balance by his movements. He gets his wallet out of his bag and hands her the money. She gestures again. He rolls his eyes and more money that he owes her from training.

"Good," Phoebe smiles. The teammates around him laugh. Phoebe clearly had Jamie wrapped around her finger.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Jamie tells them. "She'll get you, too, if you don't watch your language." He grins at Phoebe. "Still think you should cash Uncle Roy's debt in for a pony," he says with a wink.

"Better!" Dani says excitedly. "A puppy."

"How is a puppy better than a pony? I thought most little girls wanted a pony." Sam asks.

"You watch too many movies," Colin says. "Kitten, get a kitten. Less maintenance for your poor ma."

"Just what she needs, a grumpy black cat to match her grumpy and gloomy uncle," Jamie grins.

"Maybe smaller l, like a guinea pig or a-"

"No one is getting her a pet," Roy grunts.

"Uncle Roy!" She reaches out for him from where she stands on the bench. Half the team looks like they are about to try and catch her if she falls. Sam actually reaches out.

"Mate, she's 8 and plays football. She's fine," Jamie rolls his eyes but grins. She's safer in this locker room than probably anywhere else.

Roy steps up into the spot Jamie had been in before he moved over to the other side of the bench.

"Uh huh," Sam says. "And yet you braced her when you rounded the bench."

"He did put her up there," Dani points out.

"Fewer elbows and…other things in her eye line up there," Jamie says. "I'm not driving her to therapy."

"You would," both Sam and Dani laugh.

Roy shakes his head and looks at Phoebe. "Ready to go?" He asks.

"Keeley said we could get ice cream," She says. Roy is not surprised.

"If Keeley said so," Roy states. Earning a few murmurs from the room. Roy growls. Phoebe seems unphased.

"Can Jamie come too?" She asks.

"Yeah, coach, can Jamie come too?" Jamie smirks as he leans against the divider between his and Canterbury's compartments. Roy ignores him.

"You can ask him yourself, Phoebe. He's your friend, apparently."

"I still think he's your best friend," Phoebe says. Yeah, Roy left the door open for that one. That was on him.

"Yet he says it’s Isaac," Roy attempts to deflect the attention her statement got him.

"You wish," Isaac laughs.

"Get your own best friend, Tartt," Colin agrees.

"That's just ridiculous. It's clearly, Sam. Did you not see the international matches?" Reynolds says.

"He can have more than one best friend, can't he?" Dani asks. "I do."

"Of course you do," Jamie chuckles as he makes sure he has everything he needs to leave. He looks up and when Phoebe calls his name.

"Want to get ice cream with us, Jamie?" He glances at Roy. Roy rolls his eyes and shrugs.

"O' course, Phoebs," Jamie says. His smile softens. "Love to."

"Then get your arse moving, don't have all damn night." Roy helps Phoebe off the bench, and they head out the door.

"She's right," Sam says. "They're clearly best friends."

Everyone in the locker room murmurs in agreement.

"Is Tartt with her mum or something?" Someone asks.

"God no," Sam says. "He'd be dead if was."

"Fair point," Isaac says.

"But Jamie Tartt isn't the old Jamie Tartt," Dani counters.

"Yeah," Colin says. "But Roy Kent is still Roy Kent. He'd have destroyed Tartt for that."

"He has threatened to kill Tartt for a lot less," Sam admits.

"Yeah," the others agree.

*-*-*-*

"Glare any harder, and you might melt the cone with the heat of it," Keeley nudges Roy as she says it. Roy blinks before looking over at her. She is obviously amused by how he is acting.

"How is this not weird to you?" Roy says in a harsh whisper. Glancing over at where Phoebe is knocking around a balled-up wrapper as a ball on the tabletop nearby. She and Jamie had been seeing how long they could keep it going without it hitting the floor. It gets oddly competitive when it shifts to who can get it between two napkin dispensers more while not letting their ice cream melt. It only got worse once their ice cream was gone. Though Roy found it as funny as Phoebe did when Jamie got a brain freeze from it.

"It's like minding two children," Roy complains.

"Would you rather have to entertain her yourself?" Keeley asks. Roy just grunts. Phoebe cheers when she lands her last shot.

"Well played," Jamie grins and looks over at Roy. "Almost done, old man?" Roy has to resist making an inappropriate comeback. There are children, not just Phoebe, around. And normally, Roy doesn't give a fuck what people think about him. But he wasn’t actually that upset about anything. Jamie had actually gone out of his way to look after Phoebe in the locker room. He'd watched them through the window in the office while talking to Beard about the match. He could tell Jamie was trying to keep her focus on him and not the room full of half-dressed footballers. And in the past, he might have thought he was just being an attention needing twat, but Jamie had been keeping track of who was where in the room. Keeping himself between her and the rest of the room. So he'd give him a bit more leeway. And Keeley was right. Phoebe was having fun. They still have another day to keep her busy. Having Jamie keep her busy for a bit hasn't done any harm. Instead of saying anything, he just finishes his ice cream cone and gets up. He holds a hand out to Keeley, and she takes it as she gets up. "Let's go."

"Thanks for the invite," Jamie says to Phoebe as they walk back to Nelson Road. Jamie giving her a piggyback ride. She smiles, shifting so she can pat his head. He laughs. So does Keeley. "You too, granddad." He says to Roy when the laughter dies down. Roy does roll his eyes at that. Roy wonders how this became his life. And that thought made him wonder if this was a good thing or a bad thing. His gut reaction is, of course, it's bad. Jamie is the king prick of pricks. But he knows that's not true anymore. Jamie had picked to go with them to ice cream instead of the club to celebrate with the team. Jamie'd rather spend his time entertaining Roy's 8-year-old niece at an ice cream parlor while Roy and Keeley enjoyed their own treats than party with the boys. Or even find a casual hook-up like the old Jamie would probably do. No. Instead, he was carrying a sugar-fueled child on his back despite it being less than an hour out from playing a full football match. Roy's knee would have been protesting if it was him. They stop when they reach Keeley's car.

"What are you doing now?" Phoebe asks Jamie when he lets her down.

"He should go home. Rest and recover," Roy says.

"Not going to join the team at the club?" Keeley asks.

He shrugs. "Just going to head home. Catch up on something streaming."

"Nothing fun?" Phoebe asks.

"You heard Coach Uncle Roy," he grinned. "Gotta recover."

Phoebe gives him a hug, and he heads to his car.

*-*-*-*

After Phoebe is down for the night, Keeley hands Roy a beer. "You going to tell me what is going on, or am I going to have to just wait it out until you crack up?"

Roy considers ignoring her question, but he knows she will just bring it up again later.

"Just something my sister has been bothering me about," he says.

"Do I get specifics, or am I just to go off that vague nothing of a sentence?"

Roy huffs. "She's been on my case about Jamie."

"What about Jamie?" That piqued her interest. "Does your sister want to shag Jamie Tartt?"

"Fuck off." He cringes at the idea. "I hope not."

"Okay, then what is she on about?"

Roy has not been able to figure out how to say that part out loud. Especially to Keeley. They are barely back together, and Jamie is her ex. She still cares for Jamie, and Jamie has never denied he still loves Keeley in one way or another. Jamie maintains he's glad the two got back together. He had told Roy he was a dumb fuck of an old man and even dumber than Jamie himself was for dumping Keeley. Roy had agreed with at least part of Jamie's assessment on that. He had fucked up by pushing Keeley away. But Jamie had been there to keep Roy out of his head. Even if he was just pushing his buttons to give him a vent for his frustration. Filing the silence in training with annoying factoids that seemed infuriating at the time, but looking back, were just keeping his mind focused on something else. Roy hadn't realized how much he had leaned on Jamie. He had gotten to the point he'd started noticing stupid little things that Jamie would appreciate when Jamie wasn’t even around. Whether it was some stupid video on the internet or someone else's fuck up that he knew they could both find amusing. Fuck this was frustrating to think about. His mind had been drifting more and more to Jamie Tartt during the quiet moments of his life.

"Roy?" Keeley shakes his shoulders. He grunts. "Now I know something is up. Spill it."

Roy growls, not at her but at his own stupidity. Keeley just waits him out.

So he tells her about his sister's visit to Nelson Road. About how she had been questioning him about his feelings for Jamie since Uncle's day. Keeley is damn near giddy by the time he finishes talking.

"You love Jamie," she grins.

"I love you," he counters.

"And Jamie!"

"Would you fucking shut it," he hisses. He glances over at the stairs and silently waits to see if he hears Phoebe. Keeley glares at him. And he knows he fucked up. That had been too harsh. "Sorry, that was-"

"A bit harsh, yeah?" She takes a pull of her drink. "You're lucky I love you."

"I am," he admits. "But I'd rather not Phoebe hear this."

"But you haven't denied you love Jamie."

Roy groans, rubbing his eyes.

"You can't, can you?" Keeley grins. "You can love more than one person. The heart is a bitch like that."

"Keeley," he grumbles.

"You aren't the only one," she admits.

"What?" Roy asks.

"It's like…” she starts to explain. “He's kept all the sweet things I genuinely enjoyed when I was him and grew out of most, if not all, the bad bits."

"He's changed so much," Roy agrees. "And I don't know if that's endearing or infuriating."

"Well, you love him, so clearly, you have your answer."

"You just admitted you still love him too."

"Yeah, but I loved him before. It's new for you."

"Well, what the fuck are we going to do about it?" He asks.

"Honestly?"

"Yes," he growls.

"Drag him to the bed and settle it the fun ways," she says, taking a drink.

"Fuck off," Roy growls.

"I'm serious, babe," Keeley says. "He went to get ice cream instead of clubbing with the fellas. He asked if he needed to help you murder someone. He'd risk his career for you. He is ready and waiting for you at insane hours of the day already. He had a poster of you in his room as a kid. Admitted he loved watching you play. He still looks at you like you're his hero. Like he can't believe you would let him have even a fraction of your time and attention. Roy, he cares what you think. He lights up like the sun when you tell him he did a good job. Can you really not see how much he wants your approval? Your attention? Good or bad, he lives for it."

Roy has to look away as she speaks. That was a hell of a list. How has he missed it all?

"So you think he'd-" he slowly starts to say.

"If we texted him right now,” she interrupts him. “I guarantee he'd be here in minutes. If you asked him to do anything, he would."

"I doubt that," Roy vocalizes the little voice in his brain. The one that doubts most everything.

"Fine, I'll prove it." She grabs her phone and starts typing a message.

"What are you-"

"There. Done," she sends a message.

"What did you just do?" Roy asks, dread pooling in his stomach.

"Invited him tomorrow night," She says.

He is slightly relieved she hadn't invited him to come round now.

*-*-*-*

Jamie has the worst timing when not on the pitch. During training, during a match, he is a master at timing shots. He knows when and where to strike. As for his life outside the pitch, that has been a mess since, probably forever. Like now, he’s just kicked back on his sofa, tv on for mostly just background noise as he scrolls through social media and other sites on his phone. The match had been good. He was sending some of the best reactions and headlines to the team chat as he does. He had just taken a drink because Roy would probably kill him if he didn’t hydrate when he got a text from Keeley. He opened it and choked on his drink. He ended up coughing so hard his eyes watered. She told him to come round tomorrow night. That they had something important to talk to him about. Jamie’s chest hurts, and it isn’t entirely from the coughing fit he just had. Did he do something wrong? He thought they had a good time earlier, and it wasn’t even an inappropriate or raunchy good time. It was kid friendly. He kept Phoebe happy and safe. Isn’t that like Roy’s number one priority? Always. And Jamie is happy to help with that. Did he do too much? Or is it the whole locker room thing? She had found him there. He’d kept her from seeing anything she’d need therapy to forget. Was it something he didn’t do? The lads wouldn’t mess with her. They fear Roy far too much. But Roy didn’t scare him as much as he might have in the past. But fear wasn't his motivating factor for once. Jamie wanted to look after Phoebe because she was just a kid. She deserved to feel safe and happy. Roy might hate that Phoebe’s dad is not in the picture, but Jamie knows there are worse things than an absent father. An abusive one that resents your very existence. One that you can’t get away from. A dad like that is something he hopes Phoebe never has to even think about. He hopes her friends, classmates, teammates, all of them never have to go through what Jamie did. What Jamie still has to deal with. But Phoebe has Roy, at least. She doesn’t need a father. She has her mother. She has her Uncle Roy. She even has Keeley and now Jamie. The more people in her corner is a good thing, right? So it can’t be about all that, right? Then what else could it be? It’s Keeley, so it’s probably not about the match or training. He looks at the message again. He probably is taking too long to respond. So he sends her a message saying he’d be there and sets his phone on the table. So much for rest and recovery. He knows his dumb brain is not going to let this go.

*-*-*-*

"Phoebe go home?" Jamie asks when Keeley lets him in.

"Yeah, disappointed?" Keeley asks.

Jamie shrugs, aiming for nonchalant but coming off as anxious and a bit exhausted.

"Roy's in there," she gestures past the stairs to the living room. Jamie still seems to hesitate. "I'm right behind you, babe."

Roy notices it immediately. Something was not right with Jamie. That was clear as day as Jamie made his way into Keeley’s living room. The striker looked more exhausted now than he had when they watched him leave the Nelson Road car park.

“Are you okay?” Keeley finally asks as she follows the younger man.

Jamie waves it off. "I'm fine," he insists.

“Don't exactly look it. You end up out with the team after you left?” Roy asks.

“Nah, went home, just shit sleep,” Jamie attempts to shrug it off as nothing. He was not going to tell them his brain was thinking of a million ways this conversation could end badly for him. "Been worse, yeah?"

“Nightmares?” Keeley asks. Jamie shakes his head.

“It wasn’t your dad was it?” Roy asks. One of these days he was going to make James Tartt, Sr. pay for what he's done. All the shit he put his son through. That line of thinking is cut off for now as Jamie speaks.

“Wasn’t him. Wasn’t anyone, really. It’s nothin’,” he insists. “You’re the ones with something important to discuss.” Keeley looks at Roy before looking back to Jamie. Her brows furrow.

“How about tea,” Roy says before turning toward the kitchen. "Already started, shouldn't take long."

Keeley drags Jamie to the sofa and makes him sit as Roy leaves the room. She sits beside him. She frowns again when he puts more space between them by moving to the end of the sofa. Or at least as far as he can with her insane amount of throw pillows. That doesn't sit well with her. He looks so uneasy. Jamie used to act like he owned the place when he came over. Sure he was less of a prick the last few times, but this was not even how the new Jamie usually was with her. “Jamie…were you worried about this?” She gestures between Jamie and herself. "About this talk?" Jamie doesn’t answer beyond a shrug. "You aren’t in trouble or anything, babe.”

“I didn’t say that I thought I was,” Jamie tries to argue. His guard was up. He didn't want to feel stupid or look weak having worried over something this…well he wouldn't say insignificant. She had said it was important.

“Didn’t say you didn’t either,” Keeley counters. And he knew she had him there. The old part of Jamie that still pops up in his brain sometimes tells him to play it off as if he didn’t actually care. Or to just be a prick. But he doesn’t really want to do that. He’s not going to turn it on her and make her feel bad because his brain jumps to worst-case scenarios. He sighs and leans back until his head is resting on the back of the sofa, and he’s staring at the ceiling.

“Sorry,” He says but avoids looking at her. “You said it was important, and my brain ran with it.”

“Jamie,” she shifts, half kneeling on the sofa, and bracing her hand on his shoulder to try and get him to look at her. “Yes, what we want to talk about is important. But it's not bad.” “So I didn’t do something wrong, didn’t fuck anything up yesterday?” She goes to run her fingers through his hair to soothe him but she stops when she feels him tense up as he speaks.

“What?” Roy asks as he sets down a tray with steaming mugs of tea on the coffee table. “Match was a win. You played well, and went for ice cream. What would you have fucked up?”

“That’s what I couldn’t figure out,” Jamie admits, finally looking at them.

“So you’re saying you got a text from us, saying we wanted to talk to you about something,” Roy starts as he hands Jamie his tea.

“Important. Something important.” Jamie adds as he takes the mug.

“Okay, something important. And you assumed we were mad at you for something?” Roy is still trying to figure out where this is coming from.

“I mean, you’re usually mad about something,” Jamie states. “Wouldn't be you if you weren’t.”

Keeley tries not to grin but fails. Roy grunts. “Fair enough.”

“But I’m not,” Keeley says.

“Usually are with me, and that’s fair. I’ve fucked up a lot since you’ve known me,” Jamie counters.

“That was before,” Keeley says without hesitation. “That was a very different you, babe. Nowadays, you’re more likely to apologize for something you had zero control over than for something you actually did. And that’s assuming you’d have anything to actually apologize for in the first place.”

“Which you don’t,” Roy reiterates. “You train your arse off and barely complain about it anymore. You look after your mates. Keep ‘em in line if needed. You spent yesterday holding court for a stadium full of people and who knows how many more on live tv, then entertaining an 8-year-old at an ice cream parlor. How could I be mad at you?”

“You’re Roy fuckin Kent. Ya can usually find something,” Jamie states.

“Well, I’m not. Got it?” Roy says. “I’m not mad. But I will be if you keep being a prick.”

“Roy,” Keeley glares at him.

“What? I don’t want to be mad about anything, not right now, at least. Not with what we were going to talk about. Anxious, of fucking course. Angry, no.”

“Why are you anxious if it isn’t a bad thing?” Jamie asks. Now clearly confused.

“Because what we are going to ask you is not something people would consider normal,” Keeley answers.

“Not bad, but not normal?” Jamie tries to sort it out.

“Exactly. It’s unconventional, but could be fun,” Keeley grins, moving back to start carding her fingers through his longer hair. Ever since he had grown it out her fingers had itched to touch it. Style it. Just feel Jamie melt under her touch again as her nails scrape his scalp. This time, he lets her. He holds himself back from going completely to mush under her touch, but he doesn't fight how comforting it is. Keeley and Roy see it as a win. She can help but smile at them.

“So? What is it?” Jamie has to ask, his tone and his body language now showing he is less guarded and much more comfortable.

Keeley and Roy exchange a look.

“You want to say it or…” Keeley initiates.

“Don’t look at me,” Roy huffs. “This was your idea.”

“And you agreed to it,” Keeley insists.

“Because you-”

“Seems a bit bad if you can’t even say it,” Jamie points out. “Gonna keep going roundabout all night? If so, might need to order takeaway at this rate.”

Roy glares at him, but the prick has a point. He takes a drink if his tea to stall for time.

“We want you to join us,” Keeley says.

“Join you where? I’m already here,” Jamie says, his mind is too distracted by the feel of her fingers along his scalp to look deeper at Keeley's statement.

Roy rolls his eyes. Sometimes he forgets how direct you have to be with Jamie. Subtlety and nuance are often lost on Jamie Tartt. He is a genius on the pitch. And he knows a lot of shit about topic Roy couldn’t even imagine knowing anything about. But sometimes, he misses the obvious points. And as frustrating as it might be at times, Roy still finds himself wanting to protect this one particular idiot more than any other and help him. Teach him. Fuck, Roy was absolutely lost on Jamie fucking Tartt. Unfortunately, he, too, had been anxious about this conversation all damn day and was on his last nerve.

“For fuck’s sake, Tartt,” Roy sighs.

“What did I do?” Jamie starts to get defensive, pulling away from Keeley to look better at Roy.

“Steady on,” Keeley levels Roy with a serious look. She puts a hand on Jamie’s chest. “We mean with us, like in our relationship, not just at our place physically.”

Jamie is pretty sure his brain has short circuited. He cannot have heard what he thinks he just did. He looks back and forth between the two of them. “You…you’re serious?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Keeley says, smiling at him. Roy nods, hesitant to say anything that might ruin anything. He’s screwed up his relationships too many times. He’ll leave this to Keeley.

“Me?” Jamie asks. “You want me…”

“Yes,” Keeley affirms.

“You both do?”

“Yes,” Keeley repeats. “We both do, right, Roy?” She looks at Roy, eyes pleading for him to at least act like he isn’t a total prick.

Roy grunts but adds. “Wouldn’t have brought it up if we didn’t.”

“Like a one-time thing or…" Jamie says. He still can’t believe it.

“Fuck off,” Roy grimaces.

Keeley shifts so she has both hands on Jamie’s chest. “No, Jamie. Not a one-time thing. Because I miss you, Jamie. I miss being with you. And Roy, he…” She looks at Roy.

“Fuck it,” Roy grumbles before sitting in the seat Keeley was practically out of. Pulls her on his lap before gripping the back of Jamie’s neck and pulling him into his side before slotting their lips together. Jamie is almost too stunned to react.

“Jesus, Roy, warn a girl first,” Keeley says. “And let the man agree to it before you inhale his face. He may not slap you with an assault charge, but-” She’s cut off when Jamie pulls her into a hug.

“I missed you,” Jamie admits.

“So, is that a yes?” Keeley asks, her tone filled with hope and only a little muffled by his shoulder.

“Of fucking course, that’s a yes,” Jamie laughs. “I might be a bit daft, but I’m not a complete numpty.”

“You’re not daft,” Keeley says. She leans back enough to put a hand on his face. “You’re brilliant.”

“You might not be a fucking rocket scientist, but she’s not wrong. Selling yourself short, Tartt. On the pitch, you’re a fucking genius. Off the pitch, you know the most insane shit I couldn’t even pretend to know.”

Jamie ducks his head to hide the blush dusting his cheeks.

"So adorable," Keeley coos.

"That is the nicest thing you have ever said to me," Jamie murmurs, glancing at Roy.

"Don't get used to it," Roy grumbles.

"Or do," Keeley kisses Jamie's still pink cheek. "He's lying. He knows you thrive on praise."

Roy grunts. "No one would believe you if you tell anyone."

Jamie actually laughs at that. And Roy would die before he admits it out loud, but he loves that sound.

"This is really happening, innit?” Jamie asks. “I didn’t smash my face during the match and am in so fucked up coma dream, or like some head trauma hallucination, right?”

“Well, then we’d be figments of your imagination, so how would we know?” Roy points out.

Keeley elbows Roy in the ribs, earning her a grunt. “You aren’t hallucinating or dreaming.”

Roy pinches Jamie’s side. Jamie yelps and pulls away. “Real enough?” Roy smirks.

“Not nice,” Keeley glares at Roy. She takes the opportunity to slip her hand under Jamie’s pullover and shirt to gently run her hand along the spot Roy had pinched. Jamie’s breath hitches, and he melts into her touch. She grins, “There’s my good boy.” Jamie groans.

“That really does the trick, doesn’t it?” Roy laughs. Jamie glares at him, but Roy just laughs harder. He’d seen Jamie’s glare make people flinch. But this one had no heat to it. It was a bluff. Clearly, he was enjoying himself too much to really be pissed. When the glare fails, Jamie pouts a bit. And Roy bites back a sigh.

“Fuck off with that pout,” Roy growls. He reaches over and pulls Jamie back to where he was before he pulled away. “This is a good thing, remember?” He reminds him as he tugs on the back of Jamie’s pullover until Keeley helps take it off of him. His shirt is quick to follow. Jamie nods. Keeley kisses him as her hands roam his chest and abs. She swallows his moan.

“Didn’t hear you, Tartt?” Roy teases as his own hands reach out and touch. Skin he’d been dying to touch for longer than he would ever admit to every time he saw Jamie in the locker room.

“Very,” Jamie breathlessly admits.

“Good,” Roy nods. “Because this is just the start of what we have planned for you.”

“Fuck yeah,” Jamie says. “Let’s go.” Keeley laughs as Roy pulls him in for a kiss.

“Fucking hot,” Keeley says as she watches them. “We gonna move this upstairs or what?”

Roy pulls back and gets a good look at both Jamie and Keeley. “Inna minute,” he says, and he grips the back of his own shirt. Keeley shifts over into Jamie’s lap so Roy can get his shirt off. Jamie happily accepts her and frees her from her own shirt.

“Fuck, I missed you,” Jamie says before moving his lips to the skin below her ear and along her jaw. He wasn’t exactly a selfish lover in the past, and he wasn’t a religious man, but he’d thank any deity listening for the chance to have her back in his life like this. Roy being there was just icing on the cake.

“Fucking gorgeous,” Roy admits.

"She really is," Jamie murmurs against her neck.

"I meant both of you, you fucking prick," Roy reaches up and cards his fingers through Jamie's hair. "Those pretty fucking lips of yours."

"Thought I was an ugly, ugly boy, with bad hair?" Jamie smirks.

"Fuck you," Roy growls as he pretty much attacks Jamie's lips with his own.

"That's why I said we should go upstairs," Keeley says from where she is sandwiched between the two very shirtless fucking fit men. "Although I'm not complainin'." She runs her nails along Roy's abs making him moan into Jamie's mouth. Jamie took advantage of it and deepened the kiss. But Keeley wasn't done being cheeky. She grins as she grinds down on Jamie's already tented clothed lap. A shock of pleasure runs down the striker's spine and he moans loudly. His arm snakes around her torso to hold her tighter. The other goes up to the back of Roy's neck. Fingers gripping tight like if he lets go it will all just vanish. Roy growls.

"Oh, that was a fun one," Keeley giggles.

"Upstairs." Roy growls. "Now."

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uncanny-tranny · 8 days

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I've been thinking about this more and more recently (or, rather, am letting myself think about it), and I've finally decided to start learning the languages some of my family would have spoken before emigrating and it's kind of crazy.

Children of more recent immigrants have said this so much better, but it's such a weird feeling to know that you can't speak the same language your family can or did. It's such a weird feeling - to be locked away from your own family, your own blood, and for so many people, it is a form of violence and even genocide done unto them.

Honestly, if you're a child who's got family who has or did have family who spoke languages you don't or can't... Learn them, if you can. It's a surreal experience, and it's kind of liberating, in a way. It's teaching me more about parts of my family, how they might have spoken to me if we had the chance to live in the same era.

#language #politics #it's an emotional experience #i am *not* saying the reason i don't speak my family's languages is because of genocide because that isn't true #but i would be remiss to not mention it because it's a big part of how people are separated from their culture or who they are #ripping families apart isn't necessarily done through direct/obvious (physical) violence...#...sometimes that violence is being UNABLE to communicate with family. that's partially why it's so important to talk about #but in terms of american history my family emigrated pretty recently. like only a few generations #so it feels even weirder to me knowing how recently they left the boat

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one-time-i-dreamt · 2 years

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My partners and I all beat up Greg Abbott (gov. of Texas) in a donut shop parking lot and the entire time I was really anxious about the line getting too long.

#dream #Texas #physical violence tw #greg abbott #donut shop #food mention #anxiety

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ravenzeppeli · 8 days

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Claimed

Chapter 41 - The Calming Aftermath of Violence |La Squadra x Reader Angst|

Warning: strong language, physical abuse [implied], blood, mature themes. MA.

Prosciuttos POV

Walking into the base looked like somewhat of a crime scene, drops of blood being splahed all across the door, leading down the hallway. A hole was punched next to the wall that blocked off the kitchen, blood smeared on the side of the wall. Prosciuttos' mind immediately went to you, his heart going tight as he rushed down the hall, a sense of dread hanging over him as he pushed your cracked door open.

Illuso sat with his back against the wall, his entire right eye black as he stared across your room. Visibly, his lip was busted open and swollen, dried blood staining the side of his chin, the white t-shirt that he was wearing practically stained with splashes of red. With swiftness, his eyes locked onto Prosciuttos. "She won't come out of her closet. I fucked up and I can't get her to come out without attacking me or herself."

"Why the fuck won't she come out?" Snapped Prosciutto, heading towards the closet without any hesitation. "She did that to you?"

"Prosciutto, she's really scared," Illusos voice dropped to a whisper as Prosciutto stood in front of the closet, seconds away from opening it and dragging you out. "She didn't do anything to deserve what happened last night. It was all me."

He froze, turning his attention back towards Illuso. "Just get up and go home, take the day off, and come back tomorrow." The annoyance in his voice was thick. "I'll see what I can do."

Illuso got up slowly, his arm wrapping around his waist. "Listen, Prosciutto, mistakes happen. I love her, and you know we all kind of love her. Love makes people do crazy things." He gave Prosciutto a smile, his front tooth completely gone. "Y/N, are you listening in there? I'm not mad at you, I'm proud. You really kicked my ass, didn't you? Wanna come out here and make up, at least? Come on baby, I ain't gonna hurt you."

A scoff escaped his lips as he quickly turned away from Illuso. The love that he had for you was private and personal. It wasn't something that he was ever going to openly admit. How could Illuso just be comfortable with admitting it? How could he even still love you, given that it looks like you beat him.

As Illuso walked towards the door, he heard a loud bang, the closet door rattling as if you had punched it. "I'll stab you!" You yelled, your voice sounding hoarse, void of any strength. "Get away from me! All of you, go away!"

This was completely ridiculous, given that you were just an inexperienced child compared to them. He found this behavior extremely childish and even a little odd. Never once have you hid yourself from them. Never have you attacked and screamed threats at any of them. You do hit back, but you never go past punching. The emotions that he felt were complex. This was childish, but were you actually hurt? Why would you attack for no reason?

"She's gotta knife," he added in, "by the way. It was right up to her throat last time I tried to drag her out." He shrugged at Prosciuttos glare, limping out of your bedroom.

A hysterical woman was something tuat he hated to deal with, this was not how he wanted to spend his fucking morning. "Y/N," Prosciutto spoke, staring at the closed closet door. "You need to come out now. I will drag your ass out. You do not threaten anyone's life on this fucking team."

"I'll come out," you said weakly, light shuffling coming from the closet. "Just please don't hurt me. I'm sorry I said that, I just wanted him to leave me alone."

"Stop this nonsense," he snapped, causing the shuffling to stop. Fuck. Maybe he shouldn't have said that. "I've never hurt you before, now come out here and let me help you."

The closet door slowly pushed open, you stepping out, your arms wrapped around your waist. Your hair was a mess, hiding your face from his view. Your clothes were worse off than Illusos, a dried bloodstream staining the side of your clothes. You stayed halfway standing in the closet, your body as stiff as a board.

"Let me see you," he muttered, not being able to hide the shock in his voice at your condition. It looked as if you just got home from a very difficult mission. "Don't be scared of me, I wouldn't do this to you."

"I want to be alone," you whispered as he walked up to you. "Please just leave me alone."

A sigh escaped his lips, "Just look up at me and let me see your face." What did that bastard fucking do to you?

You raised your head, your eyes finally meeting his. As he stepped back a little he noticed that your entire throat was marked with heavy bruises, your left cheek. The right side of your head had dried blood, a clump of it dried in your hair. As he reached out to touch you, you quickly backed away, seeming to be on guard.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" He asked you, you quickly shaking your head in reply. "Goddamnit Y/N, at least tell me something."

"You'll just agree with them," you replied quickly. As he looked into your eyes, he noticed tears forming, your tears causing him to immediately feel uncomfortable. Never once had he seen you cry. "I just want to be alone, Prosciutto."

Yelling at you wouldn't solve anything. It would only scare you. This was a situation in which he had to handle delicacy. Maybe he could manipulate you into calming down, giving you a false sense that you were in control while he pulled the strings. It wasn't he place to question the other men on how they disciplined you. He kept telling himself that. Was this a punishment or something much worse? You looked as if you were strangled, and he didn't like it.

"Formaggio and Pesci will be here soon," he told you, a look a fear appearing on your face that he immediately found odd. Ignoring your discomfort, he stepped towards you, extending his arms out. "Come here, it's okay. I'm going to help you. I'm not going to hurt you. In fact, I'm going to take you to my house."

"I don't wa-"

"You'll have complete privacy until I get home at night unless you happen to run into Risotto." He wrapped his arms around your waist, quickly pulling away when you flinched. "What's wrong, hm? Show me what's hurting you so badly."

"I don't wa-"

"I'll have to strip you and examine your body if you don't show me," he told you, immediately interrupting you. "Baby, I need to see if you are hurt. Please let me help. I can make you feel better if you let me fucking help you." The aggressiveness in his tone only worsened, the anger that he felt rising. Though, this time he wasn't mad at you, he was mad at whoever beat the shit out of you. Was it actually Illuso? He wasn't stupid. You weren't telling him something.

That threat caused the tears that you were forcing away to instantly spill more rapidly. You raised your shirt, his hands instantly balling into fists as he saw a massive bruise directly in the center of your stomach.

"Illuso did that to you?" He muttered, his hands softly brushing the hair away from your neck, examining the dark bruises carefully. "Did he try to kill you?" As he examined the bruises closer, he realized how truly terrible they were, how your hair was masking the even darker bruises.

The anger that he felt boiling deep inside of him was hard to contain, his eyes not being able to leave his neck or stomach. This wasn't a punishment. This wasn't a beating. This was a murder attempt. He was no goddamn fool. It immediately crossed his mind that Illuso didn't do this. He was too calm about the entire thing, and he was in terrible condition right along with you.

"No," you replied, your eyes shifting away from his glare as you pulled your shirt down. "We hurt each other. I.. punched him first."

Right to his face, you were choosing to lie, but this was no time to correct you. The main goal was to pack your bags and get you back at his house. He'll clean you up and let you rest. No matter how disobedient you were, he never wanted to hurt you badly. He truly did care for you and if you ended up dying, he would fucking snap. A man is supposed to provide their woman with a balanced level of discipline as well as love. Punishments should always end with comfort or encouragement, not in fear.

He needed to find out the truth, and given how you don't like to tell on the other men for some reason, this will be extremely difficult. Perhaps he would call Melone or let Risotto see your condition. If he couldn't get the truth out of you, Melone or Risotto could. For now, he just needed to get you cleaned up and calmed down.

He raised your shirt slightly, shaking his head. "Did he punch you in the stomach?" This.. really made him fucking angry. What's the need to beat you like this?

"I've been stalking all of you," you muttered, "and I got caught. You would have done the same thing, so just leave me the hell alone." You shoved past him, your shoulder pushing into his.

"Watch yourself," he hissed, spinning around. "You've been stalking me?" He watched as you sat on the edge of your bed, turning your back to him as if he didn't exist. Quickly, he shook his head. "No, fuck that. I don't care right now. You're coming home with me. I will bathe you and you will rest in bed. You need to rest." Getting onto you for being a stalker was the least of his worries. It may be unprofessional and dangerous of you to follow the men, but it meant that you cared enough to watch them. A spanking and lecture would have been a fine punishment, but not a beating. He did not agree with beating you, he wanted to beat Illuso, if he was the one who did this.

"I have work to do," you immediately replied as he opened your closet. "I'm helping Melone later today. I need to call him and help him with baby face because he's hav-"

"What did I say?" He questioned, eyebrows immediately raising as he stared down at a suitcase in the middle of your closet. "I hoped you packed a lot. You're going to be staying with me for a while."

You looked over at him, tilting your head to the side a little. Even in your roughed up state, he found you attractive, the love that he had for you melting away any physical imperfections that you had. In his eyes, you were always physically perfect. "Will you help me hide this from the others?"

"I'm not hiding this from Risotto." Prosciutto leaned down, grabbing your suitcase and snatching it off the closet floor. "Whatever you tell the others is on you, but it is not good to lie. You and Illuso are both lying. If I can tell, then so can everyone else."

As he heard your footsteps approaching him, he turned around, eyes watching you carefully. The condition that you were in made him wary, and he was close to taking you to a hospital. He would examine you at his home and make a decision.

"I'm sorry, Prosciutto," you replied softly, his eyebrows raising in surprise at your apology. "And I've been stalking you a lot, and I noticed that you aren't cheating or doing anything wrong."

"Don't stalk me anymore," he snapped, his arm wrapping around your waist as he led you out of your room and down the hall. "Because of your condition, I'll let it slide, but cut it out. And you better not be stalking Risotto. He is your capo, and you do not watch him." How did he not notice you watching him? He will have to corner you about it when you are healed.

"Okay," you replied, "I'm sorry." You apologizing was was, but hearing you do it a second time was shocking. He had to beat an apology out of you before, and even then, you wouldn't apologize. "Where are we going?"

"My house," he replied, confused. Didn't he already tell you that? "Did you sleep at all last night, or did you stay in that closet all night?" He got silence as a reply, a sigh escaping his lips as he led you to his car.

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enbygirlblogging · 3 months

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do you ever experience a wild moment of sudden empathy for everyone in the world. like yeah i knew a guy who bullied people a lot, and who i really used to hate, but then i found out he got beaten by his stepdad and watched his sister die a horrible and graphic death first-hand, and suddenly the hate didn't come so easy. yeah i knew a girl who abused me for the better half of my life, but looking back, she also definitely had no one in the world who loved her, including her own family. my issues with her are a lot more personal, but i just don't have it in me to really loathe her the way i once did. i've never had a good relationship with my father, but he never had a parent worth looking up to. and i'm not saying any of that trauma excuses being a horrible human being, and i'm not saying you have to forgive everyone who ever wronged you, or even really that you should.

but i guess i'm saying maybe i forgive the people who wronged me.

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