#colin: *slams door open* TRENT

[v0idwraith]

if there isn’t a scene of a panicked colin bursting into trent’s office and scaring the shit out of him next episode i will be very disappointed

[singaroundelay]

MORE META because I have moar thoughts about this week. (And it's a long one so buckle up).

I want to talk about the way Ted and Trent interactions have moved past colleagues and are tiptoeing into relationship waters. (Yep, this is a 100% unapologetic tinfoil hat post that is made that much prettier thanks to casismybestfriend's gorgeous gifs.)

Just look at these two — If they're not already together they are so very close to being an unofficially-but-officially together thing.

I mean, I've written how many fics that use the current canon + missing scenes that proves how they could 100% already be in a relationship without anyone else knowing.

That door between their offices closes. Roy has slammed it shut on any number of different occasions. We see Colin pulling it shut because he wants to talk to Trent in private. There is no earthly reason that the door should be open while Ted is having parent/teacher conferences. Ted should want privacy while he has these meetings (especially since Henry is failing science and who knows however many classes on top of it) while he does these calls with Michelle. And if Dr Jake is also listening in, fuck him.

But the door is open. Ted has invited Trent into this very personal part of his life.

Not to mention, Trent is paying attention to the meetings. He's not just working away, but he's also actively listening to what's being said. He's become involved in Ted's life beyond just this book about Richmond. Henry's grades shouldn't even register on Trent's radar, yet they do.

After Colin leaves and opens the door again (ignoring that Trent could've said to leave it closed so he could get work done) — Trent could've spun the opposite way to watch Colin leave. Instead, he turns back toward Ted, as if needing to check in on how the conference is going. (Note: he didn't miss much, just more of Ted's ridiculous puns that Trent will roll his eyes at but find so incredibly endearing anyways).

And here, the ending scene so perfectly bookends how they've both inserted themselves into each others' lives. There's a familiarity between the two. Ted is uncapping the whisky and Trent immediately approaches and holds out his mug — while at the same time Ted extends the bottle to Trent. There's no asking. Trent knows he'll get a drink and Ted knows Trent wants one and how much to pour. Not only that, Ted serves him first, even with his own glass right there!

It's the sort of interaction that you only get with the closest of friends. When you can just hold out a mug and know the other person is going to fill it. Knows how many fingers of whisky is just enough.

We'll end with that smirk on Trent's face. The flirtiest of flirty mcflirt smiles directed at Ted. Because Beard has his back to him and they can have this stolen moment together. A moment that, in fact is a call back to their first date dinner together. Trent choking on his food when Ted asks "what do you love"?

Back then, he accepted that it's writing he loves. Trent Crimm, who by now, has gone from loving writing to "love our chats" to "love that" — and is right against "I love you, Ted."

[asswithcharm]

Get Me Outta This Monkey Suit

I tugged at the knot on my tie for about the fiftieth time today. The sun was nowhere ready to set. When would this fucking day be over?

Seeking solitude in the kitchen of my father’s home, I caught a few minutes of peace, sneaking a quick drink from a half empty flask, fidgeting hands returning to my pockets, trying to settle this nervous energy.

A blur of conversation slipped in through the door held open by my only aunt. After years of merely calling her “Auntie” during my childhood years, I finally discovered that her name was actually Paula and she was my dad’s first cousin, so not even a true aunt.

“Colin, the party’s in here. Out!”

Gone was the cheery disposition I remembered as a kid. This was a woman who meant business, and I guess she had a point. Fucker had keeled over from a heart attack, and it was my duty to make my rounds with the guests.

Waiting for my relative to leave, I tilted the flask back for one more sip, clearing my throat as I followed in her wake. Pairs of eyes stared, most unfamiliar, while I tentatively took a few paces towards the table that had been transferred into the living room.

“Um, thanks for coming,” I managed and gestured towards the food. “Please help yourself.

That must have placated my dear old aunt for she glanced in my direction with an approving nod. Raising my left wrist, the cuff of the shirt caught on my watch, I tugged and silently hoped the time was passing by faster than since I had last checked. Dammit, this thing must be broken or something.

People came by one by one, sometimes in pairs, mumbling their condolences while I stood with my feet spread apart, hands locked in front of me. As the line dwindled down, I decided I might as well put something solid in my gut. However, as I reached for a plate, I heard footsteps behind me.

“Young man... Mr. Trent. You were informed of our appointment tomorrow morning?”

With the plate in hand, I spun around to discover the source of the voice, a face that reminded me of an Italian mob boss like on The Godfather films. Scanning my brain, I realized this was the fucker’s lawyer. Davis? Daniels?

“Yeah,” I confirmed, bringing my other hand to grasp the plate. “I’ll be there at 9.”

His face remained neutral at my reply.

“9:00 a.m. sharp.”

Turning back towards the table, I scraped a little of each dish onto the styrofoam then had a seat in the only corner of the room that was empty, a rumble sounding from my stomach. I thought mourning made people lose their appetites, not the other way around, but who was I kidding? Good riddance, says me.

Shoveling the food down without even tasting it, I got up with the empty plate, returning to the kitchen. Placing in the overflowing trash can, I pushed the backdoor open to step outside for some air. Too bad I had quit smoking. Then I’d have an excuse to keep leaving the guests.

Moments passed and I began to hear the sounds of people leaving: voices calling out in farewell, car doors slamming, the rumble of engines. Finally, a break from this horrendous day. Tomorrow would be my last obligation as the deceased’s only progeny then I could leave this place again for good, just as I had 15 years ago, never imagining I would ever have to return.

- February 28, 2019

[asswithcharm]

Get Me Outta This Monkey Suit

I tugged at the knot on my tie for about the fiftieth time today. The sun was nowhere ready to set. When would this fucking day be over?

Seeking solitude in the kitchen of my father’s home, I caught a few minutes of peace, sneaking a quick drink from a half empty flask, fidgeting hands returning to my pockets, trying to settle this nervous energy.

A blur of conversation slipped in through the door held open by my only aunt. After years of merely calling her “Auntie” during my childhood years, I finally discovered that her name was actually Paula and she was my dad’s first cousin, so not even a true aunt.

“Colin, the party’s in here. Out!”

Gone was the cheery disposition I remembered as a kid. This was a woman who meant business, and I guess she had a point. Fucker had keeled over from a heart attack, and it was my duty to make my rounds with the guests.

Waiting for my relative to leave, I tilted the flask back for one more sip, clearing my throat as I followed in her wake. Pairs of eyes stared, most unfamiliar, while I tentatively took a few paces towards the table that had been transferred into the living room.

“Um, thanks for coming,” I managed and gestured towards the food. “Please help yourself.

That must have placated my dear old aunt for she glanced in my direction with an approving nod. Raising my left wrist, the cuff of the shirt caught on my watch, I tugged and silently hoped the time was passing by faster than since I had last checked. Dammit, this thing must be broken or something.

People came by one by one, sometimes in pairs, mumbling their condolences while I stood with my feet spread apart, hands locked in front of me. As the line dwindled down, I decided I might as well put something solid in my gut. However, as I reached for a plate, I heard footsteps behind me.

“Young man... Mr. Trent. You were informed of our appointment tomorrow morning?”

With the plate in hand, I spun around to discover the source of the voice, a face that reminded me of an Italian mob boss like on The Godfather films. Scanning my brain, I realized this was the fucker’s lawyer. Davis? Daniels?

“Yeah,” I confirmed, bringing my other hand to grasp the plate. “I’ll be there at 9.”

His face remained neutral at my reply.

“9:00 a.m. sharp.”

Turning back towards the table, I scraped a little of each dish onto the styrofoam then had a seat in the only corner of the room that was empty, a rumble sounding from my stomach. I thought mourning made people lose their appetites, not the other way around, but who was I kidding? Good riddance, says me.

Shoveling the food down without even tasting it, I got up with the empty plate, returning to the kitchen. Placing in the overflowing trash can, I pushed the backdoor open to step outside for some air. Too bad I had quit smoking. Then I’d have an excuse to keep leaving the guests.

Moments passed and I began to hear the sounds of people leaving: voices calling out in farewell, car doors slamming, the rumble of engines. Finally, a break from this horrendous day. Tomorrow would be my last obligation as the deceased’s only progeny then I could leave this place again for good, just as I had 15 years ago, never imagining I would ever have to return.

- February 28, 2019