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scoatneyhall · 2 days

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WILD. Was anyone else aware that the Ted Lasso team has gone in and made post-production edits on season 3 episodes, sometime in the last year?

I've been rewatching the finale in advance of the one year anniversary of it airing, and straight off, I noticed that the points total on the graphic looked different to how I remembered it - a much closer race. It stuck out because I remembered being annoyed that they didn't celebrate the moment Richmond got confirmed for the Champions League, as the gap was big enough for it to have happened a while ago, offscreen. I still have a screencap from when the episode aired:

However, the current copy on Apple has an updated graphic, making the post-production graphic in line with the numbers on the actual physical whiteboard prop and the script mentioning the win streak. See here:

The corrected copy makes Richmond's points match the whiteboard, but it also puts the teams in 3rd to 5th place much closer to them points-total wise, meaning that now, in the current version of the episode, Richmond only qualified for the UCL in "Mom City," making it make more sense that the start of 3.12 is the first time it gets discussed. Would have been nice to mention that stake in the City match commentary during 3.11, but I genuinely am shocked that they went back in and edited the already-published episodes to clean up the post-production errors. For the record, here's the whiteboard as of 3.08: W10, D9, L6.

Just in case anyone cares, the order of those results was - 1 draw against Chelsea, 6 wins with Zava, 1 loss against West Ham, the rest of the draws and losses occurring between 3.05 and the loss against Arsenal in 3.07, and then the 4 wins mentioned at the start of 3.08. By the start of 3.12, it's mentioned they are on a 16 game win streak, so that's 22 wins overall, 9 draws, 6 losses, going into the final weekend, hence the updated graphic.

I like that they went in and fixed it - no idea when in the past 12 months that occured - but I also kind of can't believe they bothered? Then again, I can't believe the mistake was made in the first place, as they were so specific with details in the prior seasons, so maybe they couldn't live with it being wrong.

I know there were rumours about a ton of issues in terms of getting these episodes posted in time - right down to the wire, still fixing the edit on the airdate - and it's clear that these details were not checked and confirmed by the poor people in post who were not working off the show bible that lives in the writers heads. I don't blame them at all, I blame the people who got the edit to them late, but it did annoy me during the season a LOT. The maths wasn't mathing, and as we know this is a show that has been careful with dates and timelines and stuff like that.

Anyway! The point is, a) this post about my UCL qualification fantasies is now moot, and b) I went back and checked another post production error that had REALLY pissed me off, which was the dates of texts in Ted's phone in 3.04. Phone dates have always given us the timeline quite strictly before - it's how @belmottetower and I started the timeline in our primer, with Ted arriving in London on January 6, 2020 and then following the football seasons from there to place the season 3 finale in May 2022 - but in 3.04, all the cute texts we see to all the characters in his phone were badly misdated, placing the timeline further in the future. This caused arguments or misunderstandings, at the time about the actual timeline of the show, but it seems this was another detail the producers really wanted to fix and tighten up, as they've gone back and had it edited.

It's weird, because the texts Ted was actually going back to - the messages from Doctor Jacob - were dated correctly as late 2019, and there's even a little easter egg in the form of a US rideshare notification picking him up to go to the airport in America, on 5 January 2020. (Even the area code, 316, is apparently correct to Kansas.) That's all correct even in the original version of the episode, but somehow we then skip a year and place his most recent texts, as of 3.04, in late October 2022, when they should only be in late September or early October 2021. (I found this post on Reddit that screenshotted his phone at the time.) Examples:

I had to go back and check this, and sure enough, it's been edited to reflect the established timeline - they didn't just redate the year on each message, they also changed a bunch of the chats to be more recent - so rather than dates, his most recent chats with Henry, the Coaches, etc are from "Yesterday," then the first dated texts are in very late September 2021. This matches up pretty perfectly with where they are in a typical Premier League season - they REALLY cleaned it up. Further back, they do just switch the years on the dates, so he still got a picture from Sassy last Valentines Day, and his last one-on-one contact with Jamie is still set before the events of Wembley in 2.08 (FA Cup semi finals are in April, so a few weeks after the March 2021 date on Jamie's chat.)

My brain is itching because I swear there was a screen of Nate and Ted's text chat at some point too? With Ted reaching out about his new job, on a date that deeply did not work with the timeline? But maybe I imagined it. There's no record of Nate's number in his phone at all now, and the texts date back to before Nate left, so I guess in this version of events, Ted deleted Nate's number and message history.

Anyway, I'm aware that basically no one is going to care about this, but I suspect that the three people who will actually care will REALLY FUCKING CARE. Has anyone else noticed it? Does anyone know when it may have happened? Does anyone know what else might have been changed or fixed? I love details and I love the fact that there is no longer conflicting data about what football seasons the show is covering - it's mid 19/20 to the end of 21/22, end of story - but what a fucking mess the production of season 3 must have been, to end up at this point!

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 3 days

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I Think I Could Need This in My Life

I'm Bright Baby Blue, Falling Into You

Chelsea!Roy Kent x Coach's Daughter!Reader 2.6k words Warnings: Language, lying/sneaking around, no Ted Lasso characters except for Roy, some angst & miscommunication, heavy kissing, romantic & sappy Roy

Surprise, surprise, it was midnight, and you couldn’t sleep.

Maybe you were hungry; you’d skipped out not just on Roy’s dinner, but also your mum’s lasagna. Maybe it was the anxiety of school looming. Maybe it was your crushed heart. Maybe it was your phone continuously going off, Roy’s name lighting up on the screen.

Or maybe it was the incessant knocking at your window.

With a sigh, you climbed out of bed and walked over to the closed window. Sure enough, there was Roy, perched on a branch, looking just pathetic enough to still be gorgeous in the moonlight.

Tugging down your t-shirt to cover your thighs, you opened the window just enough to talk- but not enough to let Roy in. “What?” you hissed, not your usual greeting when you found the footballer outside your room.

Your tone hit him like a slap, sending a wince across his handsome face. “I needed to see you,” he said simply. “Can I come in?”

If you let him in, you’d kiss him. You’d hold him. You’d lay in your bed with him for hours. You’d act like nothing was wrong.

“Not tonight, Kent,” you sighed, picking at the chipped paint of your windowsill. “I’m tired.”

“Princess.” His voice was a whine, something you had never heard. The sound of it had your harsh resolve beginning to crumble. “Fuck’s going on with you?” He carefully reached out and laid his hand on top of yours; you told yourself you didn’t yank it away because you didn’t want to make him fall. But you knew deep down it was because, after a day of avoiding the man, you missed the warmth of his touch.

Still, enough resolve remained to have you shaking your head. “Roy-”

“I don’t have to come in.” His eyes were wide when he saw that miniscule chink in your armor. “Come outside. We can sit in my car and talk.” He squeezed your hand. “Just talk. I swear.” The tiniest smile appeared on his face, just cocky enough that your heart skipped a beat. “I can only stay in this fucking tree for so long. Can’t have me breaking my leg and letting the team down, can we?”

It took every ounce of your strength to not return his smile. Instead, you threw a sweatshirt on over your shirt and shorts and pulled on a pair of trainers. You followed Roy down the tree, going slower than you normally would, and avoided the hand he offered to help you dismount. Even though the deep frown on his face betrayed the confusion and hurt he was feeling, he didn’t say a word as the two of you disappeared through the garden gate you’d snuck through countless times this summer.

Your heart ached as you climbed into the passenger seat of his car, the seat you thought of as ‘yours’ at this point. The seat you had pictured yourself sitting in as Roy drove around Southampton when he visited you at school, the seat you saw yourself in when you drove to the “anywhere” Roy had suggested at the casino.

Normally, Roy would drive around aimlessly, just wasting time together. Tonight, however, Roy simply parked his car a few blocks over, just far enough away to avoid being recognized by anyone who would happen to be out at this late hour.

Once the car stopped and the lights were off, he turned to face you, laying a timid hand on your knee. When he realized that you weren’t pushing him away, he opened his mouth. “What’s wrong, babe?”

Immediately, tears stung your eyes. “Don’t call me babe,” you whispered, squeezing your eyes shut and swallowing hard.

“Why not?” His voice was strangled and full of pain.

You opened your eyes and gazed at him, cursing the streetlights and moon for illuminating his miserable, beautiful face so perfectly. “Because I don’t think your girl would like that,” you said bitterly.

His face crumpled in confusion. “My girl? What the fuck are you on about?” He gave your knee a gentle squeeze. “You’re my girl.”

Before you could help yourself, that actress’s name tumbled out of your mouth, your voice filled with venom and sharpness. When Roy frowned, his face even more contorted, you sighed and shook your head. “I saw your picture in the paper,” you spat. “Apparently the two of you were quite cozy the other night, talking and laughing.”

The tiniest smile shone on Roy’s face; the painfully angry part of you wanted to slap it off of him. But the eagerness and sudden hope in his eyes had you wanting to listen to what he had to say. “We were in the paper, eh?” He shook his head. “Yeah, we were talking for a bit. We’ve met a few times, she’s actually very nice.” He held your gaze steadily as he went on. “That night, she was asking about one of the guys on the team. Wanted to know if he’s single and if I’d introduce them.” His hand left your knee to cup your face. “She also asked me where my girlfriend was,” he said slowly. “Said she keeps hearing rumors I've been seeing someone. And I realized… I didn’t know how to answer that.” His gaze flickered down to your lips before returning to your eyes. “What I wanted to say was that my girlfriend was at home, and that I couldn’t wait to get the fuck out of the club so I could see her beautiful face.” He shrugged, his thumb stroking your cheek. “But, I mean, technically I don't have a girlfriend.”

“Oh.”

That was all you could manage. Roy’s words had your head spinning. The actress was a friend. You were his girl. He thought of you as something pretty close to a girlfriend.

Roy raised an eyebrow at you. “Oh?” he repeated with a small chuckle. He leaned close, keeping his hand on your suddenly warm cheek. “So that’s why you were so cross with me today, hmm? Chelsea’s little princess was fucking jealous?” He pressed a tiny peck to your nose. “Why didn’t you just say so, babe?”

His gentle, teasing tone melted away the last bits of your resentment. You softened into his touch, your eyes fluttering when you saw all the affection coloring his face. “I… I didn’t know how to say it,” you admitted. “I wasn’t sure if I had the right to be jealous.”

“Hmm.” Roy stroked your face, his own expression growing softer by the moment. “That was… kind of why I wanted you to come over tonight.” He sighed and pressed his forehead against yours. “Thought we should talk about… whether or not I have a girlfriend.”

You shifted in your seat, careful not to lose the warmth of Roy’s palm pressed to your cheek. “I… was kind of hoping to have that same conversation.” You caught your lower lip between your teeth. “Until I saw those photos, I mean.” You chewed the inside of your cheek, not sure how much longer you could keep looking into those brown eyes before you exploded. “What happens, Roy?” Your voice was the tiniest whisper. “When I go back to school?”

He sighed, his breath ghosting over your lips. “If I’m being really fucking honest,” he started slowly, “when this… thing started, I thought it would just be some fun until you went back to school.” His nose was brushing against yours now. “But I don’t want that, princess. I want you to be mine when you’re back at Southampton.” His voice was a low growl, the kind that always made your toes curl. “I want you to call me and tell me about your day. I want you to come to my matches and wear only my kit. I want to meet your mates and earn their approval. I want to take you on proper dates. I want to come visit you and pay your tab at the campus pub.” He groaned quietly, as if being so close to you was torturing him. “What do you want?”

“You, you idiot,” you breathed, finally closing the gap between your mouths.

Even though it had only been about a day without his lips on yours, it felt like ages since you tasted that delicious Roy taste. His mouth moved in sync with yours, as though they were made for each other. Just as you were ready to deepen the kiss- and maybe finally add Roy’s car to the list of places the two of you had exposed to your more adult pastimes- Roy pulled back, sloppy smile on his face.

“I, uh, have something for you.” He reached into the backseat and rummaged around until he grabbed something flat. He handed it to you with a shy chuckle. “It was supposed to be a little going-away gift once you were headed back to school but…” He shrugged.

You looked down at what Roy had handed you. It was a CD, you realized with raised eyebrows. In the dim light from a nearby streetlamp, you could make out the scribbled words: For when you miss me as much as I miss you.

A lump formed in your throat as you looked back at Roy. “You made me a mix CD?”

He shrugged and stroked your hair tenderly. “Well, my date cancelled on me and wouldn’t answer my fucking calls. I had some free time this evening.” He narrowed his eyes playfully. “Still haven’t answered my question,” he hummed.

You blinked as you turned the case over in your hands. “What question?”

“Do I have a girlfriend?”

It was hard to believe that not even an hour ago, you were ignoring this man’s phone calls and refusing to let him climb through your bedroom window. Now, you were in his car, holding the mix CD he’d made for you and listening to him ask you to be his girlfriend.

Maybe you were a princess. It sure as hell felt like you were living in a fairytale.

“Yeah, Kent,” you giggled. “I think you’ve got a girlfriend.”

Roy’s smile was bright and so fucking perfect. Both of his hands cradled your face to tug you to him so he could kiss you, slow and adoringly. His smile felt heavenly against your own, a feeling you weren’t sure you’d ever get used to. But now you knew you had all the time in the world to at least try to get familiar with the feeling.

You pulled back with a smirk, waving the CD in the air. “Do I get to listen to this now, or do I have to wait?"

Bashfulness suddenly covered Roy’s face as he took the CD out of your hand. “One song,” he growled, turning his car back on. “I want the rest to be, I don’t fucking know, a surprise or something.” He inserted the disc into the CD player and let the first song play. A slow Matchbox Twenty song filled the car as Roy pulled you back to himself, attaching his mouth to yours with ease. He kept pulling, kept tugging, until you were out of your seat and on his lap, never breaking the kiss once. You moaned softly against his mouth, flicking your tongue against his lips. His hands moved to the curve of your ass, gripping tight, as if he was scared you’d disappear at any moment.

“Roy,” you whimpered as his mouth travelled down your jaw, planting sloppy, happy little kisses to your skin. You felt bold enough to grind down on his lap, wondering if he’d be willing to take you to his place tonight. Or maybe even break his pants rule up in your bedroom. Something told you that Roy was feeling happy and infatuated enough to say yes to anything Chelsea’s princess wanted.

You barely noticed the song come to an end and make way to another tune. But Roy certainly did. He reached around you to turn off the CD player, shooting you a teasing grin when he saw your pout.

“Save it,” he said simply. “When you’re back at school, and you miss me- because you will fucking miss me-” You rolled your eyes, as if you weren’t completely turned on by his cockiness. “-I want you to play this and remember that I am missing you just as fucking much.” He pressed a kiss to your nose. “Maybe even more.”

It should have been much more surprising that Roy followed you up the tree and into your bed. While he was still, unfortunately, determined not to take his pants off under the same roof your father slept under, he had no problems letting you lay your head on his chest and lazily wrap your leg around him. His grip on you was warm and tight, exactly the way you liked it, and his fingers toyed with your hair absently.

“Oi.”

You tilted your face towards him, chin just above his heart. “Yeah?” You knew your smile was sleepy and sentimental, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be embarrassed by it.

Roy, on the other hand, looked pretty damn serious for a man who had just asked you to be his girlfriend. “We should…” He glanced up at the ceiling, letting out one of those growling sighs that you usually loved. “… tell your dad.”

Nope, you’d misunderstood what he meant. That had to be it. “Tell my dad what?” you asked slowly, sitting up and tugging down the hem of your shirt, as if your father could see you in bed with the midfielder.

“Princess.” Roy reached out and grabbed your chin gently. He ran his thumb over your lower lip, as if trying to get rid of your sudden pout. “If we want this to work- and I really fucking want this to work- we’ve gotta tell him eventually. It’d be nice to be able to come to your front door to pick you up for a proper date, you know?” Playfulness returned to his eyes as he nodded towards your window. “Less risk of breaking my pretty neck.”

You groaned and buried your face in that pretty neck. “He’s not going to like this,” you grumbled, stating the obvious.

“He’ll get over it,” Roy assured you, tracing soothing circles on your back. “Once he sees how absolutely fucking mad I am about you, he’ll get over it.” He paused. “Or else I’ll find myself traded to fucking Watford or some shit.” After a moment, he tightened his grip on you and added, “You’d still like me in yellow, right?”

“Don’t joke,” you whined while nuzzling further into the crook of his neck, as if his skin could hide you from the idea of facing your dad. “Knowing the old man, he’d send you off to the States or some shit.”

Roy’s shudder might have been genuine. “Alright, you don’t fucking joke.” He sat up, pulling you so you straddled his waist. “You know we’ve gotta tell him.” He stroked your bare arms. “And the sooner the better.” He raised those thick eyebrows. “Tomorrow. After the match. It should be a good match for us, so he’ll be feeling downright cheery. We can wait in his office and… tell him together.”

Together. “You’ll be there?” Despite your apprehension, you couldn’t help smiling at that handsome face.

“Fucking ’course I will.” Roy’s voice was firm, just barely tinted with teasing. “What kind of knight in shining armor would I be if I left the princess alone to face the fucking dragon?” He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “I’ve got you,” he promised. “I’ve fucking got you.”

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