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hazbinshusk · 3 months ago

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husk x fem!reader. a sequel to the fic in which you catch husk humping your pillow. the bartender, ashamed of himself, has been avoiding you now for days - at least as best he can while stuck behind the bar. so, what else can you do but take to sitcom logic in order to level the playing field between the two of you? featuring: masturbation (afab!reader), exhibitionism, and a gob-smacked (and very aroused) husk. 1.4k. tagging @irkimatsu because they requested the original fic :) * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hey, can we talk? Please?

Husk’s phone is perhaps one of the least utilized in all of the ring of Pride, rarely considered and seldom used. Texting isn’t his thing, and who would he need to call? Just about everyone he still associated with was here in this damned hotel, and it wasn’t like he wasn’t easy to track down stuck behind the bar every day. So, while he kept it charged as per Charlie’s gentle request (and Vaggie’s dryly given order) that all staff are contactable while they’re out recruiting, he barely ever spared it even a glance.

But now…

Now the damned thing is burning into his periphery, and has been since you sent him those texts three hours ago.

A flash of your wide eyes and flushed cheeks passes through his mind and he frowns, reaching blindly for whatever bottle is closest. His claws wrap around a whiskey bottle and he tugs the stopper out of the neck, swallowing down three long pulls of burning liqueur.

“Ooh, somethin’s got kitty all twisted…”

Husk looks up disapprovingly as Angel Dust arrives at the bar, settling himself gracefully onto his usual stool with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. The bartender tosses the stopper onto the bar, taking another swig. “Don’t.”

Angel pouts teasingly, accepting the glass of the same that Husk pours him. Usually he’d prefer something sweeter, but its late and work was long, so the hard stuff will work just fine. Besides, whatever is twisting up Husk into an angry little pretzel is so much tastier. He knocks back the drink, setting the glass back down in front of his friend. “Aw, what’s wrong, Whiskers?”

Husk growls quietly – a warning for Angel to shut the hell up – which the porn star, of course, ignores. He pulls another glass out from under the bar, pouring the two of them another drink. Angel’s eyebrow shoots up again as Husk’s own glass is filled almost to the rim.

“This got anythin’ to do with the way you’ve been avoidin’ our other favorite resident the last few days?” Angel asks knowingly, and Husk almost chokes on his drink. Had you told him what Husk had done? That you’d found him humping your fucking pillow like some kind of creep? That he hadn’t fucking stopped even when you’d walked in? How he’d cum like a fucking pervert while you’d watched?

“Don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“I’m talkin’ about the tasty little sinner you’ve been gettin’ all heart-eyed over since they moved in.” the spider says pointedly. He takes another sip of his drink, exhaling the burn slowly.

“I ain’t—”

“I ain’t blind.” Angel points out. “And if I gotta watch her ass mope around the hotel for one more day because you’re avoidin’ her, I’m gonna lose my damn mind. She’s no fuckin’ fun like this an’ if I’m expected to stay sober in this place imma need the two o’ ya to do ya fuckin’ part. An’ I’ve always liked a romance a helluva lot more than a drama. Or, ya know, at the very least a good age gap porno.”

Husk snorts despite himself. “And here I thought you were worried about someone other than yourself for once,”

Angel grins. “So?”

The cat glances surreptitiously towards his phone. “I ain’t avoiding her.”

“No?” Angel notices, and the fucker manages to snag the phone before Husk can stop him. He smirks at the lack of password and opens it with ease, the screen still settled on the messages you’d sent him hours ago. “Oooh… what’cha got to talk about?”

Husk’s face burns despite himself. “Fuck off.”

“Sure.” Angel shrugs, tapping out a response and sending it before Husk can stop him. He tosses the phone back to the swearing feline, shooting him a wink as he stands to leave. “But only so you two can ‘talk’.”

Husk flips him off as he goes, a growl rumbling out through gritted fangs. He glares after the spider until he’s out of sight, his ears falling low as he glances down at the phone in his paw.

Husk: I’m off in ten.

“Shit.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Husk swallows heavily as he stands outside the door to your suite, rubbing a hand through the fur at the side of his neck. He should just keep walking, head back to his own room, and drown his embarrassment in whatever booze he can scrounge up in there.

Hell, maybe you might not ever forget what he’d done, but with enough alcohol, maybe he can.

He sighs, fishing his phone out of his pocket to re-read the response you’d sent him only minutes after Angel’s text.

Come see me in my room?

Husk groans to himself before finally raising a fist and knocking hesitantly on the wood of the door. “Hey, it’s… it’s me.”

“Come in.”

Your response comes immediately, and Husk’s ears twitch forward at the breathy quality in your voice. He hesitates a moment longer before finally turning the knob and pushing open the door.

And his heart stops, blood rushing into his cheeks and lower.

You’re laid out on your bed, propped up on the pillows so you can meet his gaze through heavy-lidded eyes. Your hair is disheveled and your face is flushed, a sweet, almost innocent pink staining your cheeks. You’re all but naked, a bra of red silk wrapped around your chest. One of the straps is hanging off your shoulder, the cup sitting low enough that husk can see the dusky skin of your nipple peeking out from under it. Knees bent and legs splayed wide, you bite your lip and whimper with your hand between your thighs, two fingers pumping eagerly in and out of your wet, wet pussy.

And you have one of his bowties wrapped around that palm.

“Hi…” you whine as you slip your fingers out of you to instead tease over your clit, your hips bucking up into your hand. The red silk of the tie is stained with your cum, soaked in it, and Husk’s lips part, his breath coming heavily.

“Hi,” he replies softly, the hint of a disbelieving smile touching the edge of his lips. “You…”

“Fuck…” you moan quietly and Husk curses at the sound of it. He doesn’t want to blink, to miss a second of what you’re doing in front of him… for him. “Fuck, Husk…”

He groans as you slip your fingers back into your cunt, your other hand coming up squeeze at your breast needily. He can see your nipple harden and catch between your fingers, and the door closes behind him with a quiet snap as he steps further into the room, enclosing him in the heady scent of your arousal.

Any nerves you felt over this plan have melted away with the expression on Husk’s face, the soft silk a teasing friction against your clit. You have to force yourself not to close your eyes, thrilling in the way his pupils have all but eclipsed his irises as he watches you. Husk clears his throat, his breath shaking. “Didn’t… didn’t have to do this, doll.”

“Always do it for you,” you confess, voice reedy, and God above if those words don’t go straight to his dick.

“Fuck, sweetness…”

“Feels so good, Husk,” you murmur needily, rolling your hips up against your hand. The sound of you fucking yourself, the wetness of your cunt and the breathy moans that escape you are more addictive than anything else Husk has ever sampled, and his cock aches with the need to feel that tight heat wrapped around it. “Fuck, it feels good…”

“God, you look so pretty, baby,” he breathes, and you swear, you could get drunk off all these pet names. “Such a pretty thing…”

“Please, Husk…” you whimper, humping up into your hand, and you moan needily as you watch him palm his cock through his pants and squeeze. He exhales a groan, eyes rolling back for a second. Your other hand leaves your breast to instead join the other between your legs, your thighs clenching around your hands as you fuck yourself onto your fingers and frantically rub at your clit. “God, fuck, please. Please…”

Husk feels like he could pass out when he replies, “Cum for me, sweetness.”

A few more moments and your hips lift off the sheets. You cum with a broken, drawn-out moan of his name, eyes squeezing closed and your thighs shuddering with every wave of your orgasm. The bowtie is soaked, dripping with your cum, and Husk can’t help the fleeting thought of wearing your scent around his neck. He exhales a curse as he watches, transfixed, and God does he want to bury his face between those quivering thighs and taste that ambrosia between your legs.

Fuck.

You’re beautiful.

#husk fic #husk #husk x reader #my fic #hazbin hotel x reader #husk hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel

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teriri-sayes · 7 months ago

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Reactions to Chaos Creator's Chapter 285

Brief summary: GoC and Blue Wolf fight. Epley and mage chimera dead. DA excited to create new skill. Cale continues to bleed from his mouth.

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Lots of stuff happened today. We've got two cute moments with Raon and Lock. 🥰 Lock was ecstatic when Cale relied on him for protection. He was really happy that he had now become a reliable protector.

And Raon sort of acknowledged Cale as his dad today! 🥰🥰🥰

Maren: Your dad will be fine because the Blue Wolf is protecting him. Raon: … M-My human is not my dad! Maren: Is that so? *scratches cheek in confusion* I thought he was your dad. Raon: H-Human is a human, and I'm a d-dragon? Maren: So? Is that a problem? Raon: A problem… It's not! Maren: See? Eruhaben: *looks at the two and shakes his head in disbelief*

DA when excited became a talkative guy that Cale even told him to shut up. 😂 Fortunately, DA did not turn Cale into some eldritch horror eye monster something today. Rather, he simply studied how GoC did it in order to create a new skill for the future.

So why was Cale and DA so greatly affected by GoC's power? Because chaos contained everything, including the core of the beginning, the prime of all things. Primal fear then, was what easily defeated Cale and DA. And one of GoC's attacks even tempted Cale with sweet words, like "Come nearer. You can be anything here." This was primal fascination, and if Raon had not interfered, Cale might have fallen victim to GoC.

GoC and Blue Wolf fought with their auras, and afterwards, GoC created a gray tsunami while Blue Wolf split it with his blue flaming wind. In the process, Epley and the mage chimera got consumed by the tsunami. Those two got a taste of their own medicine as they drowned in the tsunami with faces of despair. What a fitting end.

Who won in the end though? It was Blue Wolf. GoC decided to withdraw after leaving the words, "Eventually, chaos will come. That is the law, the rule." What happened afterwards to GoC was reported by poor GoD. 😂

GoD messaged Cale about what was happening in the god realm. After GoC withdrew from the battle against Blue Wolf, they threw a fit and began destroying stuff in the god realm to the point that GoB was pissed and went mad in anger too. 🤣🤣🤣

GoD also sensed Blue Wolf by Cale's side, and talked about how Blue Wolf should just descend to Aipotu, create a new divine item, and build a new flashy temple. Hmm... a new temple for Blue Wolf? Why do I have the feeling it would have the statue of Lock too? 😂

The Ryan mini-arc ended, but our Cale was already planning on his next move (attacking 3rd Star Exion) even though he was bleeding.

Super Rock: It's good that your body is okay and you did not faint. Cale: *blood continues to drip from his mouth* Super Rock: Well, you overexerted yourself so you're bleeding. Everyone: *eyes shaking as they see Cale bleeding from the mouth nonstop* Cale: *thinking of attacking Exion next* Raon and CH: *shaking eyes* Cale: *sees the two and confidently shouts* I didn't faint or cough blood! Super Rock: For now. You will soon if you don't rest. Cale: *ignores Super Rock*

Cale, this is why slacker life continues to elude you. Tsk, tsk. 😒

Ending Remarks I did not expect to see blood from Cale today. Or Epley to die easily like that. Serves her right. For the next chapter, I think it would be the reaction of the beastmen to Lock and Cale. And Cale fainting if he continues to ignore Super Rock's advice.

#tcf spoilers #trash of the count's family

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yourtouchismidas · 2 years ago

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I am so happy youre doing Matty/RG blurbs again ❤️ how about Matty's first time looking after Gigi alone for the night? Maybe RG has been finding things difficult so Denise invites her round for a girly night

omg yes have you seen one day? where dexter looks after jasmine. i one hundred percent see it happening like that.

you're fussing around and giving him a list of things he needs to make sure to do and he is encouraging you out the door saying, "we'll be fine, it's not like i'm her father or anything" and finally you kiss them both and with one last look head off to the taxi waiting for you outside. denise has invited you to a live screening of a tv show she is on, where you will then get drinks with her after.

matty feels very confident, gigi adores him, and he has done her bed time routine over and over again, sometimes with you, sometimes by himself. but the door slams behind you and she immediately starts screaming.

"oh honey, what is all this?" he says to her, bobbing her up and down in his arms, but she is screaming so she is super red in the face, tears down her cheeks and he is saying "oh poppet. oh dear" and leans her against his chest where she cries there.

she's cranky all evening, but he tries a few different things to try and get her to cheer up. he puts on baby pop music and dances her around and when that doesnt work he puts on charli xcx which she has heard in the studio and must comfort her, because she stops crying and stares at matty while he dances like an idiot in front of her and eventually gets her laughing.

they put the telly on and watch her nana on the show she is on, and matty points and says "theres nana! there's nana!" and gigi watches mezmorised but any time the camera focuses on someone who isn't denise she starts screaming again.

"i'm going to call in in a second," matty grumbles, picking his baby up off the sofa to try something else.

he ends up reacting a whole shakespeare play with a stuffed toy dinosaur and a few stuffed bears, but it works and she watches him, not crying, until her eyes start to flutter. he picks her up and gives her her bottle and rocks her saying "there there my love, there there, daddy's here, daddy's here," as she starts to fall asleep in his arms. he has almost gets her in the cot, when a group of boys outside start yelling, shock her out of sleep and she starts screaming again. matty opens the window and yells "can you shut your gobs you just woke upmy baby! it's a goddamn monday night for fucks sake," and they all stare and jeer at him until one guy says "isn't that matty healy?" and matty shoves the window closed, knowing he going to be in the daily mail tomorrow. he should text jamie about this.

but first, he needs to help his daughter stop crying, and there is only one thing that does it.

you let yourself in, late, and when you head upstairs to check on gigi, you see matty, still fully dressed, body curled around the baby and both sleeping peacefully, like they have no worries in the entire world.

#ruins #ruins behind the scenes #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #matty healy #matty healy x y/n #the 1975 fanfic #matty healy fanfiction #dad!matty

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python-nebula · 2 months ago

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I’ve been inspired by @sundewhasaudhd to do a ranking of Joey Richter Hatchetfield characters, except I’m gonna rank them by how homosexual I am for them 🏳️‍🌈😌

(I’m not gonna include some of the background characters though (sorry Danny from the smoke club))

(also if the character is played by several actors then obviously I’m talking about when he’s played by Joey)

9. Cineplex Teen: Idk he’s just kinda There 🤷

8. Dan Reynolds: I like him, he’s funny, but I’m not gay for him (sorry Dan, much love to him and Donna)

7. Thrash: I could definitely understand people finding him attractive, I love his hair, but he hasn’t got that pizzazz yk (although for some reason I find him more attractive when he appears at the end of his rendition of the NMT2 theme? Dunno why)

[We’ve now got to the point on the list where I’m gay for all of them from here on out, just to different degrees]

6. Steve: …yes. I’m sorry but there’s something about him-

5. Wilbur Cross: I don’t agree with his actions but I still find him attractive, the double denim suits him, I love his growly lines in Made In America (e.g. “-and a gob of fucking lust”), also when he does the thing where he grabs his chest [*see below the cut] OUGH, also we have the same attitudes about society (although I’m not about to make a deal with a LiB)

4. Ezekiel: (I MEAN JOEY AS THE VA AND PUPPETEER, NOT THE LITERAL BIRD) his whole vibe is just 👌, I’m very gay for him (and long hair + high-neck jacket = HOT)

3. Ted: Yeah yeah, the gay guy loves the sleazeball town whore, "wooooow what a surprise!!1!", shut up 😒 /j (seriously though, he is so hot and if I was the Lattay Hottay I would go out with him immediately)

2. Peter: Lmao sorry Ted but I like your brother more than you, Pete’s so sweet but snarky too, also Steph was so real for getting flustered during If I Loved You

1. Ethan: DUH. His hair is soooo nice (not to be a f*g but I am feral for long-hair Joey Richter characters) and he’s alternative and he cares about his gf’s little sister LIKE SHE WAS HIS OWN KID HELLO???? BOYFRIEND MATERIAL 100%

Okay this was my unhinged ranking of Joey characters based off of how much I want to- I mean how gay I am for them :)

[*this is what I was talking about:]

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rreskk · 1 year ago

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Hi, maybe a weird request here but could you write something for a reader whose personality is very similar to Trevor's? Any story, any timeline, just two rude, traumatized, perverted creepos finding each other. Like Trevor x fem!Trevor but y/n

LOL, mannnn, Satan's spawn.

Summary: This was his first time being treated so brutally and he likes it.

TW: -Suggestive content (sexual)

Pairings: Fem!reader/ Trevor Philips

“The fuck you staring at?” Trevor glared as he noticed you from across the bar. You had been staring at him, eyes perverting.

He acted as though he wasn’t doing the same.

“What? Am I not aloud to stare?” Your response made him twitch. He noticed how you were sprawled out on the seat, shirt barely covering up your bare breasts that were threatening to show. He’d be angry, but he couldn’t refuse a lady so manic like you.

“What’s your name, sugar?” He asked with intensions of bringing you home.

“[y/n].”

“Nice name.” There was a tint of flirtation behind his voice.

Yet you scanned him up and down and scoffed.

“Fuck off, you old Loonie. I ain’t interested in your shabby cock.”

Trevor began laughing as he placed his beer down. He carried on looking at you with a smirk. He was impressed; aroused.

“Ain’t you a sight to behold,” He teased – “You’re making it hard not to look.” He’d motion to your breasts that were peeking out of your baggy tank-top.

“Oh, shut up! Lemme have some peace and quiet!”

The place went silent at your outburst. Only the backgrounded music of country disturbed the atmosphere.

It didn’t stop Trevor from giving you a cheeky grin. He dropped to his feet and confidently strolled over. You clenched your jaw, finding the audacity idiotic.

“Did you hear me, gob?”

“I heard you, loud and clear,” He leaned over you and stared down at your chest, “You’re gorgeous. I like your style…”

“Oh yeah? First time seeing tits?”

“Hm, no.”

“I’m finding that hard to believe. Whatcha got in there? A dried tomato?” You pointed to his crotch.

Trevor’s smirk only grew.

“You’re a pyscho… God, we’re made for each other.”

“Ehhh, how about you bend over and I’ll mangle your balls into the size of a cherry seed? C’mon, big guy, lemme see your ass.” Your perverted gaze fixated on his crotch area, making grabby hands.

“Now you’re talking my fuckin’ language, babe. Allow me to escort you to the finest bed!” He had his palm open for yours.

But of course you refused and sat up without any help.

Trevor watched as you stumped your way out of the bar, and decided to follow your lead. He giggled to himself and whispered quietly.

“I might just catch a case.”

#trevor philips #grand theft auto 5 #gta v #grand theft 5 #grand theft auto #trevor gta #gta 5 #trevor philips/reader #trevor philips x reader #grand theft auto v #grandtheftauto #gta v trevor #trevor philips headcanons #trevor philips fanfiction #trevor philips/you #trevorphilips #my fanfic writing #my fanfiction

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hayatoseyepatch · 5 days ago

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heaven sent, mocha, and vanilla for you and Suo for the ask game please!! 💖

Hi Em my love!! Thanks so much for sending this in this was so much fun!! I hope you have a great night MWAH (ʃƪ ˘ ³˘)♥

Heaven sent: how did you and your lover meet?

So me and Suo have known each other from back in our Furin days, having met in that classroom on the first day. We were in the same class all throughout our time there. Upon first meeting we didn’t particularly get along at. Because the air of mystery around Suo and the way he talks, coupled with the fact I love to run my mouth too much, it was bound to end in disaster. Upon introduction, we had our first battle of wits.

“I’m Suo or at least that’s what everyone around here calls me.”

With that closed-eyed smile that I know is a front.

“Is that what they call you or is that your name, Suo?”

Thus is the start of calling him every ridiculous pet name I can think of until he confirms if its his real name or not.

Mocha: what was your first kiss like?

So with me and Suo, we were heavy on rials to lovers. We did not get along AT ALL at first. I do feel like there was a good period of time where feelings were starting to reach a boiling point. That boiling point came in the form of one of the many arguments we would get into. Steps were taken towards each other, getting into each other's faces as insults were slung at each other with honeyed venom dripping in our “pleasant” tones. Before I could give a rebuttal to Hayato’s most recent flung insult, the words die on my tongue. Far too preoccupied with the way his lips were watched to my own. Hating the way that I melted into it almost instantly, only to be met with that signature closed-eyed smile when he pulls away.

“You know you're so much more beautiful when you shut those pretty lips, honey.”

I was gob-smacked watching him walk away, cheeks flushed and blood boiling, He really did win that argument.

Vanilla: what do they keep on their nightstand? what do you keep on yours?

OO THIS ONE IS FUN. I feel like Suo is more of an organized guy. So on his side of the bed sits a lamp, whatever he was reading before bed, his phone and charging stand. Maybe a bottle of water (I always wake up thirsty in the middle of the night and complain about having to go downstairs when its dark to get water, so he is prepared.)

My side is a little more cluttered, however. Having my own charging stand, a candle, whatever book I was reading, my glasses case for when its time for bed, a night light, my vape, probably whatever I was snacking on before bed and tissues (I have horrible allergies in the morning.)

#༻ ✉︎ ༺ — samanswers #𖠋♡𖠋 — Em #this was so fun!#ask me about my selfship #sayato

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olliewrites-stuff · 5 days ago

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An age old question. [1]

“It’s foolish and shortsighted to think that everyone in this world is either a wolf or a sheep. What if I’m a hippo?” Marcus queried from his lounged position atop the limp, faux-leather beanbag on the floor. One could never quite tell which of his incessant questions were genuine or just for a laugh.

Wije sighed. It was a sound of long and exasperated suffering at the hands of his closest friend. With a few practised, nonverbal hand gestures and several pointed glares, he managed to regain his class’ attention.

“An astute observation from my star pupil. Many questions and contradictions can arise from attempts to generalise the entire human population into two anthropomorphised categories,” Wije drawled. “Had the said star pupil shut his gob and continued to listen, he would have heard me make that point and extend it further.”

He made sure to send a friendly wink to his friend to communicate goodwill as his students giggled. Marcus took the verbal jab like a champ… for about 3 seconds. Suddenly, he held a hand against his heart and swooned dramatically,

“Oh you slay me with your unkind words, Teach!” he wailed. After a quick peek upwards to ensure the class’ attention was now on him, he pulled his face into a mourning mask. “I make a profound observation and you make fun of me! What a wolf move! Much too vicious for a hippo such as myself!” he warbled.

Wije rolled his eyes as the final bell rang. He resolutely ignored Marcus’ shit-eating grin as he regained the class’ attention again and reminded them of homework expectations for the weekend. The English teacher dismissed the students and trudged to tower over his still-seated friend as the teenagers filed out of the door.

“Remind me why you’re in my classroom?” he grumbled. Marcus merely extended his arms behind his head as he stretched out his back.

“Well, you invited me in as a guest judge for their debates in Week 6. I wouldn’t have noticed that my free period clashed with this class every Friday afternoon if you hadn’t pointed it out to me,” Marcus teased. “Plus, your kids can’t get enough of me! Who am I to deny my adoring fans of absolutely brilliant English commentary from their beloved performing arts teacher?”

Wije once again rolled his eyes. Unfortunately, this particular eye roll seemed to catch Marcus’ attention. The brunette scoffed indignantly in response, “Oi! Don’t you eye roll me! You’re just jealous that I’m their favourite teacher!”

The English teacher bit back a grin as he maintained a droll tone, “Yeah, okay. Sure. Not like you’re gate-crashing my class or anything.”

Another indignant screech.

“I do not gate-crash!” Marcus defended. “I improve! I enhance! I was practically begged - if not explicitly invited - by your students to attend!’

Wije’s disbelief extended all throughout Marcus’ following scramble to turn his beanbag around. His all-knowing smirk lasted up until Marcus pointed proudly to a hand-drawn sign attached to the back of the beanbag that the noirrette had not noticed before.

‘Mr Day’s Throne. VIP Access 24/7’

“Are you - How - How long has that been there?!” Wije shrieked in amazement. What the fuck? The scratchy handwriting narrowed the culprit down to one of about five of his students, but it was certainly from a student and not Marcus. Wije attempted to swipe the paper from the brunet’s hands, but the performing arts teacher held it out of reach.

“Uh uh uh,” Marcus tutted. “You can’t just ignore or crumple up a VIP, 24/7 access pass. Imagine the riots if my adoring fans found out that this sacred signage had been dismissed…”

Wije glanced quickly out the doorway and surrounding hallways to ensure they were clear before turning to face Marcus, “You little fucker! You’ve weasled your way into the good graces of my kids!” Turning to hide his pout, Wije continued, “Keep going like this, and you’ll be asked to teach this class. They’d take you over me in a heartbeat… Then you’ll be in deep shit. You’ll have to actually read a book to the end.” His laugh was weak, even to his ears.

“Hey,” Marcus’ call was soft. “Firstly, I can read, thank you very much. I’ll have you know that I read the entirety of Pygmalion when I was in Year 11, and I still regularly read far too much fanfiction on nights I can’t sleep, so, there! Also, stop it with that ‘everyone hates me’, ‘my kids will leave me for you’ shit. Your students adore your class, dude. I’d say you’d have to be blind to miss it, but even Evan can tell how much you value your class, so that point’s moot.”

The English teacher smiled softly and turned around. Meeting his friend’s worried gaze again, he apologised, “I’m sorry to bring the mood down. I don’t mean to.” He cut off Marcus’ inhaled breath, “And I know I don’t have to apologise. You know me well. Too well, I think sometimes. I just - I’m probably just tired. Ignore me.”

The pair sat in content silence for a handful of long moments, becoming attuned with the hum of the air conditioner and the muffled waves of conversation filtering in from outside the classroom windows. Marcus was the one to break the contemplative silence with a chuckle, “You’re definitely appreciated by your students. Really appreciated by some… You’ve got a fanclub forming in the back row.”

Wije groaned, “Ugh, don’t tell me… Ronnie?”

“Spot on,” Marcus taunted. “She’s got the perfect angle to stare goo-goo eyes at you all lesson without you noticing. I don’t think she took a single on-task note for the entire period.”

“Urgh,” Wije repeated. “Gross. Fuck, I’ll need to record that and update her folks… She needs to grow out of that, ASAP. Did I tell you that she gave me a handwritten, and handmade, note on Valentine’s day?”

This seemed to pique Marcus’ interest. Oddly concerned eyebrows furrowed in the English teacher’s direction, “Oh?” Wije noted that his friend’s voice was strange; thin, almost.

He sighed and leant against the front side of his desk. “Yeah. Nothing too bad, but I still found it odd that I got it. I flagged it with leadership, so we’ve been monitoring the situation. She’s about one subtle unwelcome advance away from being moved from my class. I’m just glad I flagged it early and have her parents informed - apparently this isn’t new behaviour, but they’re grateful that I’m so active in recording it and alerting them.”

Marcus released a long sigh, “That sucks, man. Hopefully she will grow out of it soon. It can’t be easy being on alert all the time like that.”

The English teacher slumped further, “It’s the future part that gets to me, really. If she’s already ignoring academic reprimands and rules to seek this unhealthy one-sided relationship, what does that mean for her future? If she doesn’t grow up and learn how to identify healthy and realistic relationships, where is that going to leave her in 20 years? This is probably the thing that terrifies me most about teaching highschool - after us, we release them into the outside world. The outside world is fucking ruthless, and sometimes I feel like we’re sending our unprepared kids into their early deaths - or at the very least, a lifetime of being miserable… They deserve better than that.”

Marcus was eerily quiet. Wije, knowing his friend thoroughly, thus knowing that he sometimes needed extra time to process before responding, decided to use the silence to begin packing his bag for the end of the day. When his friend spoke again, his tone was determined, “Your students are lucky to have you, you know?”

The English teacher tried to brush the comment off, but Marcus was relentless, “No, Wije, you need to hear this. Your students are lucky to have you. You’re a fantastic teacher. They’re lucky to have an educator that cares about their wellbeing so deeply - who sees them as humans and not just bodies in seats. You actually give a fuck about their futures. You make them feel smart while ensuring they stay humble and just. Your students are so fucking lucky to be taught by you. And if they can’t recognise it now, they will when they’re older and think back on the educator who got them back in a time when they didn’t yet know themselves. They’re so fucking lucky to have you.”

Then, whispered so quietly Wije almost missed it, “I’m lucky to have you. In whatever way I can.”

Wije observed, rather than felt, his head swing sharply to face Marcus’. What…?

The brunet quickly laughed it off unconvincingly and powered forward, “I MEAN..” Marcus cleared his throat. “I mean, sure, I know that students can be quite vocal with their adoration of me. I consistently hype them up and egg them on, after all. I’m as openly queer as I can professionally be - I mean, my classroom theme is ‘rainbow’, for fuck’s sake! In high school! The students that admire me, admire me to my face and sing my praises - when safe - behind my back. But I also know that my openness intimidates some students. The sheltered, prejudiced, closeted, and those with toxic conceptions of masculinity and gender can find me intimidating or challenging.”

Marcus’ eyes were closed as he talked. Wije stared openly at the operatic plot that played itself out silently in his friend’s facial features.

“That’s something I acknowledge and take in stride. I don’t push my defensive macho boys to take non-explicitly-masculine roles if they don’t want to. I call out homophobia in my classroom in the same way I call out racism - we define slurs, how they’ve been used to hurt groups of people in the past, and how we can be better than that. I use my deep, macho voice in parent-teacher meetings to dispel doubts and communicate my masculinity. I participate in sports day to dispel the athletics-allergic gay myth. These things are also slightly fueled by internalised homophobia, but, hey, no-one's perfect. Like you, I’m hyper-aware of my actions and how third-parties, including conservative third-parties, could misconstrue my professional and safe interactions with students… And it’s fucking exhausting.” Marcus sighed. “It’s so fucking exhausting, and that’s all while excluding the students I concede defeat to reaching.”

Before Wije could jump to his dear friend’s defence, Marcus cut him off, “Sure, I’ve got my strengths as a teacher. I do a fucking great job bringing performing arts culture to this school, but I’ll forever admire how you manage to meet all of your kids’ needs, wherever they’re at. I’d sit here on my throne and watch your classes all day, if you'd let me.”

A soft blush flushed the performing arts teacher’s cheeks, “You’re in your element, here. Anyone who walks in here knows that learning is happening. You assign essay homework tasks, but - and I don’t know if you’ve noticed this before - your kids all attempt them. I see them in the library, or my classroom if they’re feeling particularly brave, having a fucking go at analysing the goddamn themes of 'The Wave' or 'Chinese Cinderella'. The same kids I have to drag through script writing or performance analysis! What they create for you may not be good - may not even hit the criteria - but, god, do they try. And that’s the one thing we can’t teach: effort.”

The silence that enveloped the pair this time was tense. Wije, flushed with embarrassment from the praise; Marcus flushed with embarrassment from oversharing, and fear of having overstepped.

It was Marcus who broke the tension moments later, much to Wije’s initial relief. He did so with an unsubtle throat clearing and abrupt conversation diversion.

“So, uh” the brunet stammered, “Did you, um, get any other deliveries on Valentine’s Day?”

Wije’s confusion was a harsh contrast to his earlier emotions. Why was Marcus bringing this up again?

“What? From students?” he queried slowly. “No, thank god.”

Finally making eye contact with his friend as the other’s head rose, Wije was surprised to register frustration in Marcus’ expression.

“Thankfully no student ones,” Marcus concurred. Then, “Any other ones, though?” he questioned in a carefully-light tone.

Wije was completely lost. “What?” he asked, absolutely befuddled. It was Friday afternoon after a full teaching week; this was not the time for mind games and needing to read between the lines.

When he finally responded, Marcus’ voice was uncharacteristically tentative.

“Like, maybe a - um - a nondescript card in a pale yellow envelope?” Marcus whispered, his eyes glaring holes into the floor as his hands fidgeted restlessly.

Painfully slowly, the pieces in Wije’s mind began to fit together. Did Marcus really…? That would mean that he was the one who… How long had…?

As Wije completed his mental puzzle with the speed and agility of an arthritic great grandmother, Marcus began to implode. The English teacher was too slow to respond to his friend’s shut down before the emotional shutters he hadn’t seen since their middle-school days separated Marcus from him.

The performing arts teacher curled himself inwards, making himself impossibly smaller. A ludicrous feat for a 6’2” man, yet one he pulled off with a tragic grace.

“Never mind,” Marcus mumbled. “It was stupid. Sorry to bring it up.”

Wije watched his friend wallow in self-hatred and regret for approximately ten heart-wrenching seconds before he could kick his vocal cords back into working order,

“It wasn’t stupid,” he began. Wije watched Marcus’ shoulders tense and freeze, as if waiting on the precipice of despair for a shred of doubted hope.

“I - the whole thing sort of fell on the wayside after I had to begin the reporting process for Ronnie, but I still read it, I -” floundering for words that persistently escaped him, Wije decided to use his actions. Without warning, he turned on his heel to rifle through his backpack determinedly.

He muttered to himself as he searched main and side pockets, unzipped zippers, ripped open velcro, until he stood again - triumphantly clutching the (now tattered) yellow envelope in his right hand.

“I have it!” Wije declared proudly, “I still - I still have it. I read it a few times. I just - it was so mysterious! I mean, ‘signed Your Secret Admirer’ really? I couldn’t tell if it was a prank or not. I - I hoped it wasn’t, because the actual contents of the note seemed heartfelt, but I couldn’t dismiss the possibility of a prank and I just - I didn’t have time to investigate this!”

Marcus was listening now, at least. He still hadn’t rid the kicked-puppy expression from his face, but he wasn’t as crumpled as before. Filled with slightly more confidence, Wije continued,

“In the rare moments this term that I’ve allowed myself to exist as a human being and not a ‘teacher,’ I’ve returned to this card time and time again. I haven’t known why, really…” Then, with all the confidence of a first-year theatre major, Wije added, “Until now…”

At this, Marcus’ head whipped up. His deep brown irises drilled into Wije’s own emerald ones. This… This was a life-changing conversation. The kind of one that had usually been held in the dead of night at their countless sleepovers growing up; the soul-bearing sharing of secrets backwards and forwards that had guest-starred in their friendship through puberty and beyond.

This conversation, though? This one was different. This involved both of them. Both of them… together? Maybe? This wasn’t just a ‘coming out.’ It wasn’t a confession about loss of virginity, and how ugly human penises truly are, like that from Marcus at age 13. It wasn’t a suicide plan, like that from Wije at age 14. It wasn’t a relay of brutal self harm, like that from Marcus at age 15. It wasn’t a confession about grief or mourning for a person known only to them, while their families didn't know that friend even existed, like that from Wije at age 17.

Even for childhood friends, this was unchartered territory.

Deciding to be the one to break the silence, for once in their long friendship, Wije ventured forward, “I didn’t know it was you,” he confessed. “But I’m actually - I’m actually glad, to be completely honest. I’ve always said you’ve known me better than myself.”

Strangely, Marcus had not perked up further. Instead, alarmingly, he appeared to lose his structural form and slump forward.

“Yeah,” came his hollow response. “I’ve always known you better than yourself. What are friends for?” Marcus’ tone was bitter. Defeated.

It simply would not do.

Wije crossed the short distance between the pair, crouching to meet Marcus’ seated level. He guided the brunet’s head up gently by elevating his chin with his left hand. He ignored the nervous trembling from both parties.

“Did you,” Wije whispered, “Did you mean it? All of it?”

Marcus’ reply was whispered at the same volume, yet seemed to boom around the four surrounding classroom drywalls. “Every word. However it ends, I need you to know I meant, and mean, every single word.”

What more was there to say? Nothing that could be put into words, at least.

Wije allowed a grin to overtake his face as he clasped Marcus’ face gently between his two hands and leaned in for the first kiss of many.

There weren't ‘fireworks’ or ‘toe curling.’ No choruses of angels were heard. It didn't cause a monumental shift in either man's world view;

Instead, it simply felt like coming home.

#olliewrites #ollie writes #short story #story #original story #fiction #lgbtq relationships #lgbtqia #relationship #friendship #friends to lovers #writers on tumblr #writeblr #creative writing #lgbtq #my writing #teacher #teaching

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omniblades-and-stars · 8 months ago

Note

For the wip folder ask: what we lost in the muck sounds so interesting

Oh yay! One of my non-Mass Effect wips!

So I am playing a DnD game set in Eberron two years after a war that had lasted so long, my character, Aacid Malvys, has never known a time without it.

Aacid started as a joke. A dragonborn with an acid breath weapon named Aacid. But as I started thinking on her back story, she became quite serious and important to me.

Aacid became a soldier, and eventually proved herself capable of leading a small band of soldiers who specialized in guerilla style warfare. Near the end of the war, her pride causes her to make a bad call, and it costs her very nearly everything, except her life.

This will be the story of her time in the army from a young woman up to that event.

I'll put in what I've got so far (not very much) on this one under the cut!

"Shut your gob, Longhollow," Aacid huffed, voice raspy and gruff with exhaustion. She dropped her feet over the side of the top bunk, and inspected her toe claws for cracks and chips. It had been a long journey from Sharn. Fresh from basic training, they made their way to the frontlines. Young and full of pride and enthusiasm, one might have expected them to be eager to prove themselves on the field. But all they really felt was the dread of being sent into a war that had darkened the edges of their lives since they were born. "The oldest, she gets top bunk.”

It was much easier to joke about juvenile things like sleeping arrangements rather than address the creeping and pervasive sense of doom that gathered in the barracks like a fog. The humor helped fight away the feeling that there was a monster lurking in the shadows cast by the lamplight.

Peotyr batted her great clawed foot from in front of his eyes. “You stuff it, Malvys! You’re huge, if this bunk collapses I’ll be crushed in an instant!” He tossed himself back onto the straw mat that was allegedly a mattress and brushed away stray brown curls that had the audacity to go askance from the motion and block the charming view of the worn wooden slats above him. Initials and crude drawings both scratched into the surface, a time honored tradition of young soldiers.

Aacid bounced up and down causing the aging bunk to squeak threateningly. The crest of her horns nearly scraped the ceiling. “This sounds like a personal problem, Petes. You should try being taller.”

“Should try being smaller,” he groused in return.

“Tell you what, we fight for it, yes? First one knocked on the ground gets the top.”

“Bite me, Ass.”

Aacid shifted suddenly, pulling her legs up and behind her to swing around, her head hanging down to the bunk below. Eyes like molten gold challenged Peotyr almost as much as the sharp, fine points of her teeth did. “What part of you do you treasure most? I will be happy to rid you of it,” she snapped her jaws threateningly a couple of times.

Peotyr sat up in a snap and wrapped his hands around her curled horns. With an impish grin, he yanked, pulling Aacid over the edge of the bunk. She went crashing loudly to the floor with a shouted curse. She wrapped her hand around his ankle to drag him to the floor with her.

“Will you two please shut up!"

#daisy screaming into the void #not mass effect #this is my ask game tag now

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ah-death · 1 year ago

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Eda and Butch are menaces to society pt 2

Edalynn: I have an idea

Butch: A good one?

Edalynn: Let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Edalynn: My kink is saying some incredibly cornball shit and watching a person speed run the five stages of grief as they realize with horror that they still want to fuck me.

Charon: You are so fucking weird.

How was I supposed to know there’d be consequences for my actions?

- Edalynn probably

Random Stranger: *pointing at Edalynn* is that lady bothering you?

Gob: Yeah, but she's my wife, so I kinda signed up for it.

(after killing Moriarty)

Sheriff Simms: We’re talking about a man’s life.

Edalynn: Yeah, but he beat Gob, so it’s kind of, like, eh...

Gob: Just heard Eda call Dogmeat a “fucking liar” because he barked like someone was at the door and no one was there.

Random Rivet City Citizen in The Muddy Rudder: I dare you to-

Butch: Oh! No, Eda hasn’t been allowed to accept dares since we were 10.

Edalynn: According to my dad, I apparently have 'no regard for my personal safety'.

Edalynn: If I had shape-shifting powers, I’d abuse the hell out of them.

Edalynn: Like, If I was losing an argument, I’d just turn into their dead relative.

Butch: That’s genius!

Charon: … What the hell is wrong with you two?

Edalynn: You can trust me. Let’s not forget who pulled you out of the vault pool that time you almost drowned.

Butch: Let’s also not forget who pushed me in, you little—

Gob: You should treat others how you'd like to be treated.

Butch and Edalynn simultaneously: Killed without hesitation.

Nova: No!!!

Edalynn: *Discovers Butch left the vault and has been hanging out in the Muddy Rudder ever since*

Edalynn: How long have you been staying here?!?

Butch: Don’t try that. You know the concept of time confuses me.

Edalynn: Gob, you love me, right?

Gob: Normally, I’d say yes without hesitation no doubt, but I feel like this is going somewhere and I don’t like it.

Charon: The other day, I was upstairs in my room and I heard from downstairs in the livingroom Butch say “are you sure this is a good idea?” and Eda reply “trust me”.

Charon: I have never scaled a set of stairs so fast in my life.

Edalynn, to a Megaton citizen: On a scale from Gob to Butch, how impulsive are you feeling right now?

Butch: Okay, sure, I set the sink in the vault diner on fire one time because I thought I saw a radroach and you use me as a bad example for years to come.

Edalynn: First of all, I was using you as a bad example long before the Sink Fire of 2273, and I will use you as a bad example long after you’re dead and buried.

Edalynn: Second of all, don’t try to pretend that fire was an isolated incident.

Edalynn: You know, I’m learning some very valuable lessons out here in the wasteland.

Nova: I’m guessing they are all horrible distortions on the lessons you actually should’ve taken away

Edalynn: Death isn’t real, and I’m basically God.

Butch: I have plenty of in-depth knowledge about a multitude of subjects.

Edalynn: Oh yeah? I bet I can name something I know more about than you.

Butch: Oh yeah? Try me.

Edalynn: I know what the top shelf looks like.

Butch:…would you like to experience a slow and gruesome death?

Charon: *Frustrated from trying to get the Edalynn to be even remotely mindful of the danger she puts herself in* Have you ever won an argument with Edalynn?

Butch: No, when we were kids, I’d just beat ‘er up every time she'd start to argue with me.

Charon: What about now?

Butch: Now? She tells me to shut up, and I shut up.

Charon:

[Edalynn finding Butch in Rivet City]

Edalynn: The Greaser made it to Rivet City by itself?

Edalynn: I didn’t know it knew how to do that.

Gob: *using his medicine skills to check Edalynn for injuries after a tough fight* Well, I have your prognosis.

Gob: You’re a stage five dumbass.

Edalynn: *pulls out a chinese assault rifle*

Butch: How many of those do you have?

Edalynn: *pulls out another* How many do you need?

Butch: *complaining and whining during a trip around the wasteland*

Edalynn: You know, you’re talking a lot of shit for someone who has 2 perfectly good eyeballs each worth about 16,000 caps on the blackmarket.

Butch: You and me, this isn't working out.

Edalynn: Are you saying we should start annoying other people?

Edalynn, drunk: *points at Gob who's tending the bar* That’s my boyfriend, suckers!

Charon: Your husband, Eda.

Edalynn: My husband! Even better!

Gob: I can’t get Eda to come out of our room.

Butch: Just tell her I said something.

Gob: Like what?

Butch: Anything factually inaccurate.

Edalynn, running into the room, furious: You think tHE SUN IS A FUCKING PLANET?

Edalynn: And this is my older brother, Charon- Charon?

Charon, sobbing in the corner:

Butch: The only way to defeat a bully is to stand up to him!

Butch: Trust me, I have bullied a lot of people and have paid dearly for my transgressions in the form of Edalynn.

Gob: I did something terrible...

Edalynn: It’s okay babe, I have a shovel.

Gob: Wait, what do you think I did!?

Edalynn: It doesn’t matter, no one will ever know.

Edalynn: *pulls back curtain while Butch is showering*

Edalynn: Are we — stop screaming, its me — are we out of Nuka-Cola?

Edalynn: What are you, a cop? Fuck off.

Gob: Hunny..

Edalynn: Ok, sorry, one more time.

Priest:

Priest: Do you take this woman to be y-

Gob, trying to get to know Eda better: So Eda, what are your goals in life?

Edalynn: I've been banned from every major city's public transportation system except New Vegas. I don't know what their limit is but I will fucking find it.

Charon: Guys, since this looks like the end, I just wanted you to know… you’re not really the two people I wanted to die with.

Edalynn: Ditto.

Butch: Actually, I’d always planned on the three of us being buried together in a tomb.

Charon:

Edalynn: If we make it through this, you and I are having a serious talk.

Charon to the Edalynn: After many, many hours, I’ve come to most wretched of realizations. One that might curdle your very blood.

Charon: You are my friend.

Gob: *Knocks on door*

Edalynn: You can’t come in!

Gob: Why not?

Edalynn: Because, uh, Butch is naked!

Butch: What?

Edalynn: Well, I couldn’t tell him I was naked. He's allowed to see me naked.

Butch: Why does anyone have to be naked?

Butch: You saved me, Eda. I owe you my life!

Edalynn: No thanks. I’ve seen it and I’m not impressed.

*Edalynn and Butch hugging Charon*

Charon: Why are you squeezing me with your body?

Edalynn: It’s a hug, Charon. We're hugging you.

Edalynn: (knocking on Butch’s door) Butch! We need to go! Come out!

Butch: Ok fine, I’m bi!

Edalynn: Not what I meant, but I support you! NOW GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE—

#fallout 3 charon #fallout 3 butch #fallout gob #fallout 3 incorrect quotes #fallout 3 #fallout lone wanderer #oc

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secret-diary-of-an-fa · 2 years ago

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You’re (Probably) Wrong About J.K. Rowling

So despite being a British person and writer with an adopted trans daughter (sort of), I never weighed in on the matter when British writer J.K. Rowling allegedly said a bunch of transphobic stuff. The reason I didn’t weigh in publicly was very simply this: I couldn’t find the tweet or statement that started it all- the root cause of people’s hatred. Everybody alluded to The Terrible Things J.K. said but nobody was super keen to say what those things actually were. Which naturally led me to suspect that the whole thing was storm-in-a-teacup bullshit- a notion that I also partially derived from the fact that Rowling is kind of a milquetoast who probably hasn’t had a strong opinion in her comfortably middle-class life. If somebody online claimed I’d said something offensive, I’d believe them, because I basically start a knife-fight every time I open my gob. But J.K.? Do me a favour. Of course, I didn’t look very hard to find out what J.K. said, because the other reason I didn’t comment was that I didn’t care all that much. I’m a grown man. My contact with the Harry Potter universe is nostalgically rewatching the films once in awhile and maybe, at some point, playing the new RPG that’s just come out, should I ever have videogame money again. It’s not like I’m super invested in that world on an emotional level, because I only have the normal number of fucks to give about wizard children and the people who chronicle their adventures. So, my plan was to just never mention any of this. And then I stumbled on the comment that started it all by pure fucking chance and it was… so dull and inoffensive that it actually amazed me to the point where I medically had to say something. Yeah. I am literally incapable of shutting my fucking mouth when someone does a stoopid, as it turns out.

“Dress however you please. Call yourself whatever you like. Sleep with any consenting adult who’ll have you. Live your best life in peace and security. But force women out of their jobs for stating sex is real?” (I think the implication of the question mark s ‘er, no thanks’, basically). And that’s it. Nothing even implying that trans women aren’t real women. Nothing suggesting that they shouldn’t be treated with respect. SEVERAL opening sentences reaffirming the rights of everyone to live how and AS WHO they like… and then a gentle reminder that physical sex is real and that some people have actually lost their jobs for saying so, which sucks, because you shouldn’t be fired for stating a biological fact (unless the biological fact is that you just shat yourself and you choose to share it, loudly, at an important shareholders meeting). That’s the whole thing. I mean, there are some follow up tweets about how physical sex-based oppression is a real thing and about how J.K. feels a bit hurt by the trans activist community for turning on women-born-women when they try to address that oppression in the employment sphere. But that’s it. Now, maybe she said worse things later down the line- but these are the tweets that got everybody to dogpile onto her and anything after that point has to be viewed in the context of a harassed writer getting increasingly fed up explaining herself to people who won’t shut the fuck up on the internet when she’d probably rather be doing literally anything else.

So yeah. That’s what everyone’s got their knickers in a twist about. And that’s really dumb. In a world full of genuinely hateful bigots, attacking someone for pointing out that biological sex is a real, separate issue to gender identity and that arseholes have gotten people fired over saying that seems… well, it seems like a waste of energy more than anything else. There are people out there who haven’t actually encountered the source of this lunacy and have just taken the word of Internet Peeps that J.K. is an awful person (‘cause getting to the bottom of shit is difficult and what’s a person to do? Not just parrot the last opinion they saw fart its way across social media?).

Look, folks, folkettes, moustachioed three-titted hermaphrodites and people who identify as attack helicopters (shout out to all my homies at the Rotary Blade Club), there’s a lesson here. And that lesson is that you shouldn’t believe someone’s good or bad because someone on the internet tells you they are. People on the internet are just people, and people almost never have the faintest fucking idea what they’re talking about. There’s also a really, worryingly high proportion of internet ‘personalities’ (so called because they don’t have any in real life) who like to stir shit for the sake of stirring shit. Sometimes these people are easy to spot, because they’re bugfuck-crazy right-wingers in tinfoil hats claiming that everything in the media is a plot to destroy traditional family values (the same ‘traditional family values’ that caused women in the ‘50s to overdose on amphetamines to get the cleaning done and fathers to try and beat the gay out of their children). However, sometimes, the shit-stirrers are just a teeny, tiny bit smarter and will use the genuine disenfranchisement of a group to which they technically belong to cynically elicit sympathy for views that would be obvious bullshit if the person spouting them couldn’t claim to be oppressed. Rule of thumb: beware of anyone who wants you to believe that they have it tougher than the slave who had to clean the poop out of Abraham Lincoln’s chamber-pot hat (Fun “fact”: that’s why Honest Abe’s hat was so tall: he used it as an emergency latrine while travelling and it had to accommodate the prodigious length of his turds). Even if the person is right and they really do have it that tough, the fact that they’re prefacing what they’re about to say by EXPLAINING THAT TO YOU REALLY SLOWLY AND EMPHATICALLY should really be a red flag- a sign that they’re attempting to obfuscate the flimsiness of the actual point they’re about to queef out their face-hole. That’s not always the case (duh) but it should put you on your guard.

I can, and will, go further: I have never had opal fruit on me! Oh, hang on, that’s a line from A Bit of Fry and Laurie. What I meant to say was, I can, and will, go further: you really shouldn’t care to begin with if a creator has iffy opinions that in no way impact their work. You shouldn’t even care too much if they’ve actually done terrible shit. Because at the end of the day, the only part of them that’s relevant to you is the work they’ve created. T.S. Elliot was one of the greatest poets to have ever lived… but he was also a raving fascist. Lawrence Olivier was one of the greatest actors of his generations… but also a barely-functional alcoholic who delighted in fucking with his old Cambridge university in ways too baroque and specific to detail here. Frank Miller: amazing graphic novelist; protest-hater and all-round tosser. Don’t even get me started on all the shit Thompson and Bukowski got up to (though not together… I’d love to see that buddy movie, but it wouldn’t accurately reflect reality). There isn’t a composer in the whole world of prestigious, important classical music who wasn’t, on some deep level, a really fucked up person. Francis Bacon rates as one of the greatest artists ever to have been spat out by an uncaring world, but he also systematically ruined the lives of everyone around him, including himself. My point is that you can’t demand your art and media comes exclusively from good people… unless, of course, you’re comfortable exposing yourself to a pitifully small sliver of culture and starving your brain into grey fucking wallpaper paste. Trust me, if you have to seriously consider your options on that one, it’s alarmingly close already. Allow the personal and private failings of creators to be personal and private- even if the creator’s an egotist who keeps bringing it up in public. Accept that, for you, the work is what matters because YOU ARE NEVER GOING TO MEET THIS PERSON OR HAVE ANY IMPACT WHATSOEVER ON THEIR LIVES AND THEY ARE NEVER GOING TO MEET YOU OR HAVE ANY IMPACT ON YOU OUTSIDE THEIR WORK.

This has been a PSA from the Foundation of Terrible Bastards Making Good Art. As both a terrible person and a great writer, I now give you my permission to fuck off.

ADDITIONAL: Okay, so having posted this, I decided I was curious enough to check out JK Rowling’s twitter feed properly. And, to my amazement, I might have jumped the gun when I called her a milquetoast. She actually has some pretty strong opinions,,, but none of them seem to be about trans people in general. She had a go at Nicola Sturgeon for putting a PENIS-OWNING RAPIST OF WOMEN IN A WOMEN’S PRISON PURELY BECAUSE HE CLAIMED TO BE A WOMAN, but that’s not transphobia, is it? That’s an issue of protecting prisoners without penises from being raped by prisoners with penises. The whole ‘is Prisoner A trans or not’ issue is just obfuscation being used BY A RAPIST to get into a situation where they will have the opportunity to rape more people. While JK’s phrasing might leave something to be desired (if you’re the kind of person who needs every phrase to be padded to sooth your ego), “don’t let physically strong penis-owning rapists near vulnerable vagina-owners in an environment specifically designed to make escape impossible” shouldn’t be a controversial thing to say- and has less to do with trans rights than it does with just... common sense, I guess. Look, I’m neither a TERF nor a trans rights activist, though I know people who are both vulnerable women and people who are trans. I am the fucking Neutral Zone between the Federation and the Romulans here, but could we please all agree that miminising the risk of rape in prisons shouldn’t be controversial?

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anonymous-tals · 2 years ago

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It’s very impressive that Gob, a character who so easily folds to his dad’s opinions and comments, managed to stick to his passion for magic. Like, his dad can be absolutely brutal in his comments towards Gob so for him to never stray in spite of his dad’s as well as everyone else’s disapproval must’ve taken a lot of mental fortitude. I feel like at the point he discovers his love for magic, he really didn’t have anything that made him happy. We see for his talent in the pageant was push ups, which was clearly supposed to be him trying to exert masculinity. They mention how he’s done push ups before for pageants, too. I’m going to make the educated assumption that he really didn’t actually care about push ups or anything of the sort. He cared about trying to put on a macho persona that would hopefully make his dad, a very toxic-masculinity, womanizing kinda guy, proud of him. He was trying to imitate his dad.

It’s hard to believe that Gob just didn’t have any sort of passion as he did with magic before that point. I feel like he’d be very much so into artsy, creative things. Just sort of drawn to anything regarding performing, especially. But, before Michael was old enough to inherit the role of future person in charge of the company, Gob would’ve still had that expectation on him. So, both because they’d think it was ridiculous or pointless as well as the fact that they were expecting him to be a business man, they would’ve discouraged any interest he had in anything creative. They probably also would’ve done it because, in my mind, Gob would’ve been someone who really would’ve struggled in school so they would’ve been discouraging anything that wasn’t regarding his school work(while at the same time not doing anything to actually help him with that). And, after Michael became their focus, they discouraged him out of resentment, punishing him for being a failure in their eyes, as well as, once again, just seeing those ventures as pointless and dumb. A peer and I were talking about Gob’s childhood and how he’d probably doodle on his work and stuff so I can see him enjoying that kinda stuff, especially since he could easily draw secretly without his parents finding out. While, other things would definitely be noticed, that could fly under the radar. This isn’t relevant to the point but I want to mention purely for just i-want-to-talk-about-the-hc reasons, I feel like his drawings would be basically just be stick figure level drawings(which isn’t a bad thing, to clarify, another interesting lens to look at Gob through is doing and pursuing things not because you’re the best at them but because they make you happy, you don’t need to be the best at your craft in order to do it and be happy doing it). Regardless of what he was interested in as a kid, it definitely would’ve been shut down by his parents and he’d be shamed for having interest in the thing.

And, this is all to loop back around to how it’s very impressive that he held onto this passion for magic in spite of no one of approving of it. He very much so cares about about what others think about him and it’s not like he’s not hurt by their comments. He just doesn’t let his interest falter in spite of their harsh words. It’s 1982 and, so far, his life has been awful. His parents hate him and actively shame him for everything he does and he’s desperately trying to gain their approval and constantly failing no matter what he does. He’s forcing himself into this persona and repressing who he truly is and it makes him feels awful and it barely feels worth it since his dad never approves of him in spite of how much he’s trying. So, he sees this magic kit and he’s absolutely enticed by it and he finds himself really enjoying the craft. It genuinely makes him really happy. And, as I said, at this point, there is nothing really in his life that makes him happy. He discovers this thing that genuinely brings him joy and he’s probably thinking that, at this point, it’s worth the harsh words because he’s gonna get harsh words either way. Might as well take the path that affords him at least some semblance of an enjoyable time being alive. So he clings to it. Allows himself to continue to do what brings him joy. Gob has little to no self worth but he really gave it his all with his love for magic and that’s pretty cool, I think.

#amending my ‘essay’ about how it’s good that he allows himself to cry #*he has two wins #i’ve been trying to form out an idea for what Gob’s childhood would’ve been like #it’s interesting to ponder on #another day another arrested development essay written #gob bluth #arrested development

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daydreamgoddess14 · 1 year ago

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My bad habits lead to you pt. 1

MASTERLIST

Sequel to We lie awake in love and fear

From a prompt by @lilacmermaid25:

5 times Ted returns from Kansas for a wedding, one time he returns 'just because'.

Chapter 1

Beard and Jane - November 2023

A sunset wedding at Stonehenge. Rebecca had been to some beautiful weddings - some tiny and intimate, some grand and obscene (including her own to Rupert), but she could honestly say that she’d not been to one in such a wonderful setting. Though it was November, they were lucky - it had been one of those crisp, bright, cold days where you could almost forget it was winter and barely 8 degrees outside. It hadn’t been planned. Beard and Jane had discovered their pregnancy during the summer and calculated the dates back to the night of the gas leak - or perhaps any point during that week really, there was a lot of action that week after all. They’d spent a couple of months debating back and forth on the idea of marriage before deciding that to protect Beard’s UK visa status and parental rights, it was better to have a bit of paper than nothing at all. They’d pulled the plans together in the space of about a month - with a little of Rebecca’s considerable influence and that of a top flight premier league team. She and Keeley got ready in Rebecca’s suite at the nearby hotel they’d dance the night away in later on. Keeley’s room had been taken over by Roy, Jamie, and whoever else had chosen to hang out with them. The two women could hear the music from the next corridor.

“Roy asked if I’d ever get married.” Keeley said suddenly from the bathroom. Rebecca dropped her mascara wand on the white linen bed sheets.

“Shite. He asked what?! What did you say?”

“I asked if he meant to him or just… generally.” The loo flushed and Keeley reappeared. “I said maybe generally, but if he meant to him then we’d still have a lot to sort out.” Rebecca still sat open mouthed in shock. “Shut your gob before I stick my hand in it. You look like a fish.”

“Sorry, I just… I didn’t expect Roy to be so…”

“Open?”

“Stupid! Surely he knows that you’re both not in that place right now? And what about Jamie?”

“We talked about Jamie. We talked to Jamie. One day, Jamie is going to go off and find someone and eventually want to settle down. Until then, we want him to stay with us for as long as that’s what he wants too.”

“In whatever situation you’re currently in?”

“Yep.” Keeley popped the P.

“Is it working? Are you all happy?”

“So far so good. I know it’s a bit unconventional, but it really does work.” Rebecca smiled warmly.

“I don’t give a shit how unconventional it is, as long as you’re all ok with it. You’re consenting grown up people, you should do what you want. I only want you all to be happy.” Keeley met her eyes in the mirror and smiled back.

“Thanks babe. What about you, how’s it going with Matt?” Matthijs had been kicked out to Roy and Keeley’s room, though his was only a flying visit - quite literally he was flying out of Bristol airport shortly after the wedding ceremony.

“It’s going well. The traveling takes its toll a little, it’s not like he spends a few weeks in one place and then is away for a few weeks - sometimes I think that would be easier.”

“Heard from Ted recently?”

“Yes, we spoke a few days ago. He should be here soon.”

“And how are you expecting that reunion to go?” Keeley asked in a singsong voice.

“Keeley, we spent one night together. We knew it was only one night, it was only ever going to be one night.”

“But you haven't spoken that much since he left?”

“He’s only been gone 6 months. We speak often enough!” Keeley hummed.

“Well when he sees your dress, he’ll be on the floor and Matt will have to step over him to get to you. Which won’t be awkward at all. God I’m so fucking glad I have first class tickets to that shit.”

“Nothing is going to happen.”

“Matt doesn’t know that you and Ted had one night of wild passion though.”

“One night and one morning, actually. No, he doesn’t. And he doesn’t need to know. He knows that Ted and I are close friends and he accepts that Ted is and will always be, a huge part of my life.”

“But he doesn’t know about the sex.”

“Correct.”

“The mind blowing, life altering, never going to orgasm like it again ever for the rest of your life sex?”

“Thanks for reminding me. That’s absolutely the most helpful thing you could do, Keeley.”

“Well, I’m not picking fault - he’s a nice bloke, but has Matt ever made you feel the way Ted did?”

“No. Not that the sex is bad, it’s not. It’s very good.”

“It’s just not life altering. Got it, thanks for clearing that up.” Rebecca glared in the mirror.

“It doesn’t have to be life altering.”

“I just remember a certain, very close and very supportive friend of yours telling you that you deserved more. That’s all. And he may not always come with the right answers, but Roy was dead right on that one, Rebecca. You know he was.” Rebecca couldn’t disagree with that. She finished off her makeup and took her dress into the bathroom. It was going to be fine. Ted knew about Matthijs and Matthijs knew about Ted. They would meet, they would shake hands and it would be fine. There was not going to be some silly, unnecessary fight to win her over. She left the bathroom with her dress unzipped to ask Keeley for help when she noticed the tiny blonde had disappeared. She could hear voices and checked the time - it was probably Roy and Matthijs trying to hurry them along for the ceremony. She stepped into the second room of the suite to find Ted hugging Keeley.

“Ted!” She beamed, rushing over to greet him. Keeley moved away and Rebecca stepped into Ted’s embrace. Her head found the spot on his shoulder where she could breath him in and his arms wrapped around her back.

“Hey Becca. Think you’re a little underdressed.” He mumbled into her ear before kissing her cheek. She could feel his large, warm hands directly on her back.

“I’ll get that, thanks Ted.” Keeley said with a knowing grin. The zip slid up and Rebecca adjusted the dress.

“You look beautiful.” He smiled, next to her, Keeley cleared her throat. “You too, Keeley. As always.”

“Charmer. I’ll go and get Roy and Matt and we’ll go to the bar before we head out. It’s cold out there, we’ll need a stiff drink to keep us warm!” Keeley left, leaving the suite door open. Rebecca reached for her shoes, Ted offered his hand so she could step up into them.

“How was your flight? How’s Henry?”

“He’s really good, thanks. The flight was fine”

“And Kansas?”

“It’s still there.” She smiled softly at his reply, cupping his cheek in her hand.

“Oklahoma?”

“Can we Oklahoma later?” He asked.

“Of course, darling.” He held up her thick woolen coat so she could put it on. She took the opportunity for one more hug before they left for the bar. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too, sweetheart.”

“Come on, let me introduce you to Matthijs.”

The bar was beginning to fill up - everyone had the same idea of warming up with alcohol before the ceremony. Trent was pouring brandy into a hip flask while members of the team passed glasses of whiskey down the line. They all stopped for Ted. Various shouts of "Coach!" or "Ted!" rung out and everyone crowded him to shake his hand, clap him on the shoulder, or, in Dani’s case, cry into his arms. Rebecca went to the bar for the usual triple Jack Daniels while she waited for them to settle down. She took it with her to where Keeley stood with Roy and Matthijs.

"He's a popular man." Matthijs said, gesturing with his glass.

"Always has been." Keeley smiled, "It's good to see them all together again."

"They've really missed him. Is Dani still crying?" Rebecca leaned over to look around.

"Dani's been crying all week, loves a wedding." Roy grumbled.

"It's sweet, leave him alone." Keeley elbowed him in the ribs. Eventually, Ted was able to make his way over. He greeted Roy first with a handshake, then with a huge hug.

"Good to see you Roy Kent. Where's our Beardo?"

"Just trimming his beardo. I've sent Will to hurry him up. Nate and Jade are on their way down from their room,"

"Leslie and Julie are just out putting some things in their car." Keeley interrupted.

"And I think that's everyone organised." Roy finished.

"Ooh, look at you So Solid Crew!"

"Ted, you know who the So Solid Crew are?" Keeley looked incredulous.

"I do not, no. They came on the radio one time when I was back in Richmond." Rebecca turned to Ted and gestured towards Matthijs,

"Ted, I'd like you to meet Matthijs. We first met in Amsterdam. Matt, this is one of my very closest friends, Ted."

"Ted, it's nice to meet you." Matthijs and Ted shook hands firmly. Keeley watched wide eyed as the knuckles of both men whitened.

"You too, Matthijs. Heard a lot about you." Ted replied with a tight smile.

"Great, great, love an intro!" Keeley jumped in, grabbing Ted's drink from Rebecca and handing it to him.

"Whistle! Whistle! Drink up you lot, time to get on the bus down to the ceremony. 10 minutes!"

"I love it when you get all Coach on them, babe." Keeley winked. Jamie came over with her coat over his arm. He held it out for her. "Thanks, Jamie! Are they all ready to go?"

"Nearly, yeah. Hiya Ted." He stepped into the centre of the group to shake Ted's hand, but the elder man grabbed his shoulder and pulled him into a Lasso hug.

"Jamie Tartt, how you doin'?! Walk with me, huh? I want to tell you about Henry’s football team." Ted thanked Rebecca for the drink and moved away with Jamie. There were two buses organised to take the team, staff and various plus ones to the ceremony, along with Beard and Jane. At Stonehenge, the sun was starting to set, Ted was able to get Beard alone for a short time while everyone else stood around in small groups. It was a lovely ceremony, short but sweet. As the sun disappeared over the horizon, the cold set in and people started to shiver and pass Trent’s hip flask around until the contents were exhausted. They made their way back to the buses to go back to the hotel to warm up and party. As the groups got off and made their way inside, Matthijs pulled Rebecca to one side.

"I have to go. I'll see you in a few days?" She nodded,

"Yes, have a safe trip." He leaned in to kiss her but she locked eyes with Ted over his shoulder, Ted was glaring at them. She turned her face just slightly so that Matthijs kissed her cheek instead. He frowned a little, but didn't call her out on it. As he left, he raised his hand in a brief wave to Ted who didn't wave back. Rebecca stayed outside for a moment, to watch him leave, Ted made his way across the front steps of the hotel to join her. “I do believe it’s your round Coach Lasso.” She said pointedly, turning for the entrance. “I need a drink to warm me up.”

“Is he nice to you?”

“He is, yes. Far nicer than I’ve been to him to be honest. I’ve not been the easiest person to live with in the last 6 months. Anyone inside that hotel will attest to that.”

“And are you happy?”

“I’m not unhappy. Sometimes that’s good enough for the time being. And you?” He hummed softly in agreement.

“Think you’re probably right. Sometimes you do the right thing just to get to the other side. Does that constitute us both Oklahoma’d?”

“I think so for tonight. Don’t want to bring the place down do we?” She smiled sadly.

He followed her up the grand steps, his hand at the small of her back first remembering the softness of her skin from their earlier hug and then remembering the warmth under his palm 6 months ago as she ground her body against his. The second memory caused his hand to tense against her, gripping the fabric of her dress. If she noticed, she didn’t say a word.

As anticipated, the party was in full swing. The Richmond Team loved any excuse to let their hair down and have fun together. In Amsterdam, they could have gone their separate ways and done what they’d all wanted, instead they tried to work it out together under Isaac’s leadership and favoured spending time together doing nothing rather than doing something alone or in smaller groups. No one was planning on a pillow fight this evening though, to Keeley’s disappointment. They danced and drank and sang long into the night, Rebecca finally collapsed into a sofa and kicked off her high heeled boots. Ted dropped down next to her, slumping into the seat. The combination of a lot of whiskey and jet lag was beginning to hit him hard. She reached over and used a hand to brush his hair back and out of his eyes, not quite realising what she was doing until her hand was actually in his hair. She drew it back quickly,

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. It was just a, y’know,”

“Subconscious action.”

“Yeah. I haven’t seen you much? No dance for me?”

“I’ve been with the fellas. Wasn’t really sure a dance was a good idea given our history.”

“We’re still friends, Ted?”

“Oh I know we are.” His voice dropped, “I’m just not usually in the habit of fucking my friends, Rebecca.”

“Is this because of Matt? I am allowed to date. Sleeping with you doesn’t mean that I don’t get a life of my own, surely you date?”

“Of course you are. I just, I wasn’t expecting him to be here.” He ignored her last question. They sat in silence for a short time, watching Jamie and Will leading an impromptu Macarena to a song which was most definitely not the Macarena.

“He’s not here now.” She said, barely above a whisper.

“No he’s not.” He slid his hand across the seat of the sofa to rest next to hers and drew random patterns on her palm with his fingertip. “I’m glad he’s not.”

“Why? Jealous?” She teased.

“I am, yeah. Very.” He caught her surprised look. “Why is that a surprise?”

“I didn’t think you’d be like that.” She replied honestly.

“Rebecca, for as long as I’ve known you, the thought of another man touching you has driven me near insane. The thought of Rupert treating you so badly when he should have been worshiping you made me crazy. And now that I know what you sound like? What you taste like? How you feel underneath me? Well shit Rebecca, I’m sorry but I don’t want anyone else to know those things about you.” He felt her breathing change beside him, saw the flush on her chest. She didn’t say anything, unsure of what to say. Eventually, Roy came over and asked if she wanted to dance. She didn’t bother putting her boots back on, warning him to stay away from her toes.

“So why does Ted look like he’s chewing a wasp?”

“It’s November Roy, there are no wasps.”

“You know what I mean, Blondie. You upsetting him again?”

“Why do I always get the blame? The only thing I’ve apparently done wrong is bring my boyfriend to a wedding.”

“So uhh, which boyf-”

“Fuck off, Kent. You know I mean Matt.”

“Sorry, sorry. I know. He’s jealous then.”

“He has no reason to be jealous. I’m not, I have never been, in a relationship with Ted. My feelings for him are entirely different and separate to the way I feel about Matt.”

“Ted thinks he’s losing that battle then.”

“There is no fucking battle, Roy.”

“Do you or do you not care more about Ted? If they were about to be eaten by a shark, which one would you save? Who would get your kidney? Who would you share your last chocolate with? Who’s seen you at your lowest point?” Rebecca glared at him. “I know the answer is Ted. You know the answer is Ted. Ted thinks that the answer to at least 4 of those questions is Matt. Who is a lovely bloke by the way - I’m not shitting on Matt, he’s just had a hard act to follow. It’s like auditioning for something after Chris fucking Rock has just been and impressed everyone.”

“Wish I’d never said yes to a dance now.” She grumbled. “It’s late. I’ve had a lot to drink. I’m going to bed.” Roy pulled her into his arms properly and kissed her cheek.

“Just looking after you, boss.”

“Thank you, Roy.” She stopped on her way across the dancefloor to wave to and hug different groups of people goodnight, letting Keeley wrap her tiny arms around her, and accepting kisses from her very drunk and boisterous footballers. She stopped off to say goodnight to Beard and Jane, Leslie and Julie and Trent, then she went back to where Ted sat on the sofa. Her spot was now taken up by Nate with Jade on his lap. “I’m going to call it a night. See you all later.” She squeezed Nate’s shoulder and smiled warmly at Jade. “Nathan, could you remind the bar to close off the bar tab on my suite once everyone is finished, please? They have the details already.”

“Will do, thank you.”

“You’re in the habit of these small acts of kindness, boss.” Ted smiled.

“I learned from the best. Walk me back to my room, Ted? Just in case I don’t see you tomorrow.”

“Sure thing.” He took her boots from her hand and let her lead him from the room.

They walked slowly down the winding corridors to the rooms and suites of the hotel.

“It wasn’t my intention to make you jealous, Ted. I didn’t think it would be a big deal. You’re living in Kansas, this is the first time you’ve been back. We knew we only had one night, I was never going to put my life on hold, I made my feelings clear and I was never going to try and strongarm you into changing your mind. Not when it came to Henry.”

“I appreciate that. Though I would pay to see you strongarm someone.”

“Next time you visit, come to the club. Roy bears the brunt regularly.” She laughed. When they reached her door, she hesitated. “Would you like to come in?”

“Thought we only had one night? Thought you were happy with M-”

“Don’t.” She whispered, pressing a finger to his lips. “Please don’t. I don’t want to think about that right now.” He nodded, kissing her fingertip. She turned the key in the lock and pulled him with her into the room. He crowded her immediately, hands in her hair, trailing down to her waist and hips, pulling at her dress. She looped her arms around his neck and kissed him fiercely. He unzipped her dress and let it puddle at her feet. He nudged her through the room to the bed. She was overwhelmed by the memories of 6 months previously, her body instantly responding to his large hands and the tickle of his mustache. He deepened the kiss, earning a low moan as Rebecca tried to control her hands long enough to try and remove his shirt. He tipped them onto the bed, the length of his body pressing against her. He pressed his palm against her, grinding it against her clit through her underwear. “Fuck, Ted I missed you.” She felt him laugh against her neck.

“Oh yeah? Sure you missed me or is it something else you missed?”

“Everything, all of you. Please, Ted.”

“No one fucks you like I do.” He pulled back to look her in the eye, his hand not stopping. She gripped his biceps,

“God, don’t stop.”

“No one fucks you like I do.” He repeated, she nodded,

“No one fucks me like you do, Ted.” She gasped With a final, firm press of his palm against her, she threw her head back, coming with a guttural groan. “No one, Ted. No one. Only you.” He removed his hand and she whined with the loss of contact. He slipped her underwear down her legs, then he finished taking off his shirt and worked his way out of his suit trousers. She reached out to touch him but he moved away.

“Not this time, baby. Turn over.” She did as she was told and moved onto her knees. He gripped her hips harshly, she knew there would be little bruises. “Yes?” He leaned his body over her to whisper in her ear. She nodded. “Words honey, I wanna hear you say it.”

“Yes, Ted, god yes.” He pushed into her quickly. She grabbed at the bedsheets under her hands and called out in surprise. He pounded into her, pressing her lower back down and pulling her hips up to meet his. He reached out to unclip her bra and she raised up to her knees so she could remove it. He wrapped an arm around her to cup her breasts and hold her against him as she met him thrust for thrust. He bit her earlobe,

“Touch yourself sweetheart.” He demanded. She moved a hand down to her clit and touched herself as he’d asked. “You gonna come again?” He asked.

“Yes, yesss.” She sighed, desperate for the release she was so close to. He pinched her nipple hard and the perfect combination of pleasure and pain had her moaning and grinding down into him as she came. He held her tightly, kissing her neck and jaw as he spilled into her a second later, her name growled low into her ear. She let her legs relax and moved to lay down on her stomach. He moved with her, holding her more gently now and massaging her hips where his hands had held her so tightly. He kissed the back of her neck and shoulders, sweeping her hair out of the way. “That was intense.” She mumbled into the pillow when she was finally able to speak. “I’ve never seen you like that before.” She rolled onto her back to see him smirking.

“Guess the green eyed monster got to me.” He admitted. “You’re beautiful. Did I hurt you?” She shook her head.

“Will you stay?”

“Do you want me to?” She nodded. She went to clean up in the bathroom first, when he returned afterwards, she was responding to a text. “Will you two be ok?”

“I won’t tell him, if that’s what you mean. I feel awful, truly I do. I just can’t stay away from you.” He pulled her to sit between his legs and held her as they fell asleep.

“I know what you mean honey.”

This time, he was gone by morning. Rebecca woke up alone. A note on hotel stationery on the table by her phone.

If I wake up with you this time, I’m afraid I’ll never leave. - T xo

She considered ordering breakfast to her room, afraid to bump into him in the restaurant. Instead, she texted Keeley to ask for moral support and made sure that she went down with her, Roy and Jamie. Ted was already down there at a table with Will, Nate, Jade and a handful of players. Leslie and Julie were nursing a few players at their table and Beard and Jane were nowhere to be seen. Rebecca gave a small smile and nod as she caught Ted’s eye, but didn’t move to join their table. Jamie and Roy demolished the biggest breakfasts she’d ever seen while she nursed a cup of tea and a chocolate croissant.

“I can’t believe you’re already going, Ted!” Keeley said sadly when he joined them.

“Just a flyin’ visit this time Keels. Maybe next time I’ll be able to stay a few days.”

“You’d better. I want to see you properly!”

“Good to see you all. I’ll speak to y’all soon ok?” He hugged Roy warmly, and Jamie, then moved around the table to say goodbye to Keeley. When he stopped in front of Rebecca she stood to embrace him. “You take care, Rebecca.” He nodded, dropping a brief, chaste kiss to her cheek.

“Goodbye Ted, I’m glad you could make it.” She watched him walk away before sitting back down next to Keeley who looked to the door then back to Rebecca putting two and two together. “Don’t say a word please, Keeley. Not a word.” She hissed quietly so that only Keeley and Roy could hear. She could already feel the guilt gnawing at her.

#ted lasso #tedbecca #ted and rebecca #tedlassoedit #ted lasso s3 #rebecca x ted #rebecca welton #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfiction

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thessalian · 2 years ago

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Thess vs Pettiness

So now’s when I start to get petty.

Yeah, Temp’s still doing the whole “cherry-picking the shorter, easier dictation and leaving the longer ones for someone else, usually me” thing. Of course, she’s probably doing it more than I see, since I do end up working for extended periods without looking at the general typing queue (partly because I end up with so many of the long bits of bullshit) and Milady and Violet will take the long ones off our hands if they’ve got the time. However, it is definitely still happening and I am just well past the point of pissed off.

So I’ve started taking screenshots. Her typing queue, main typing queue, making sure that it’s very clear what she’s leaving behind. I only started at the end of last week (Thursday, since she wasn’t even in on Friday) and I’ve got one set of screenshots for each day where she’s very clearly left behind ones she just didn’t want to do (because they were long, because they were by someone she doesn’t like typing for, in most cases both). There were actually two instances on Thursday but I don’t want to inundate Scruffman so I just kept the more egregious one and deleted the other. I don’t figure I need that much.

I’m going to save about a week of these before I go to Scruffman. I really hate having to go to him again, particularly since I’m not sure what the hell he can even do about it. It’s not like he has the time to hover over her and make sure she’s doing her fair share of the more complicated cases. The thing is, it’s really not fair to saddle me with so much of it, particularly not with my physical limitations. Like, typing a fourteen minute long monstrosity and getting more or less into the zone only to end up with leg spasms and serious aches in my knee from keeping my leg in the same position while keeping my foot on the foot pedal. On bad days, I end up either hurting myself or having it take longer than it needs to because I have to move my foot off the foot pedal to avoid spasms, and it’s neither right nor fair. I’m happy to take my fair share of these. More than my fair share is just not on.

I’m thinking of wording the email something like, “I understand that she may struggle with certain people’s dictation, and I have offered as much help as I can. I have emailed her all the Snippet macros I use to make these easier. I have asked her if there’s any one person whose dictation she really struggles with in hopes that we might be able to find a fair way to trade off. Unfortunately, I have never received a clear answer and she mostly just says ‘don’t stress about it’ and carries on being selective about what she takes out of the queue. Given that her behaviour leaves me with the lion’s share of the longer and more complicated cases, I have little option but to ‘stress about it’ when it aggravates my fibromyalgia symptoms. I am happy to do my share of the more complicated cases, but I find being left with more than my share of the complicated cases because I take chunks of dictation in date order regardless of the length of each case while she picks and chooses the shorter ones frustrating.” It’s about the best I have without resorting to profanity.

The thing I probably won’t mention is how Temp and Goblin apparently stopped working at all for about an hour this afternoon when Scruffman left early. This doesn’t surprise me, mind you. I know full well that Goblin has the attitude of “When the cat’s away, the mice will play” when Scruffman’s not around; she turns the entire office into a gossip circle. More often than not, Temp encourages or at least enables it. Though in fairness to Temp, if Goblin isn’t getting a response from someone she wants to be talking to, she’ll move so she’s standing or sitting right in your peripheral vision and starts calling your name louder and louder until you acknowledge her. So it’s probably easier just to pay attention and hope she shuts up soon. (She doesn’t do that with me so much, Goblin; mostly because Goblin knows damn well that if she does that, I will turn to her without taking out my headphones and fix her with a look that says ‘I am trying to work here, which is what you should be doing; go away and stop bothering me’. I’d feel bad if she was actually being friendly, but honestly all she ever wants is an audience for her constant complaining and bad-mouthing. I have neither the time nor spoons for that. Anyway, I might not bring it up unless I really have to, but there’s an irony to the situation - you’ve got people bitching about people working from home, saying how they can’t possibly be as productive as in the office, whereas between 15:00-16:00 today, it was the work-from-home employee doing all the fucking work.

Please understand that I do generally enjoy my job, especially now that I don’t have to commute across pretty much the entire city to do it. I just want it to be fair. It is not fair at the moment. I am having the work other people don’t like fobbed off on me and I am tired of it. If I have to get some fairness by being petty enough to ‘tattle’ and give proof of what’s going on, that is what I will do. I don’t go into the office enough to get any real fallout from it anyway. That’s my only worry, really - that Temp or possibly Goblin (since Goblin’s the bolshier of the two and doesn’t mind in the least inserting herself into the affairs of others) are going to make my life miserable when I have to go in to help cover the phones. But that’s not happening until June so far as I’m aware so fuck it.

#Thess has a day job

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