Post by Nate Harris on Jun 13, 2024 5:12:51 GMT
Nate Harris sat beside his boyfriend Jack Ferriman on their cozy hotel room couch, gently rubbing Jack's back in soothing circles. Jack's shoulders were slumped, and his eyes were fixed on the floor, the weight of his worries visible in his posture.
"Nate, I just... I feel so useless," Jack sighed, his voice barely above a whisper. "They're not giving me any important matches. Not even fucking useless ones. I get jumped and squashed by two big homophobic assholes and I don't even get a chance to try and make it right. It's like I'm invisible at work."
Nate's heart ached for Jack. He leaned in closer, his tone gentle but firm. "Jack, listen ta me. Your worth isn't measured by whether those pencil pushing fuckers book you. You're talented and hardworking, and sometimes, workplaces just don't recognize that right away. But I got you. I'll keep rep'ing TDH just as Pax does. We'll get ya a match."
Jack glanced up, his eyes filled with doubt. "But what if they're right? What if I'm not good enough?"
Nate shook his head, holding Jack's gaze. "Fuck that. They're not right. You have so much to offer. Remember how you basically made Church of Crosse seem useful? They couldn't stop praising your work. You were amazing. Not sayin' I want ya to go back to cult shit but you got the skill, trust."
A small smile tugged at Jack's lips as he recalled those moments. "Yeah, but those were different."
"No, they weren't," Nate insisted. "They were you showing your skills and making a difference. Just because management aint utilizing you properly doesn't mean you're a failure. Sometimes it takes a while for people to see what you're capable of."
Jack sighed again, but this time it was a softer, more hopeful sound. "I just want to feel like I'm contributing, you know?"
"I know, babe," Nate said, pulling Jack into a warm hug. "And you will. Just give it sum time. Keep being your amazing self, and they'll see it too. And even if they don't, it doesn't change who you are or what you're worth."
Jack hugged him back, tightly. "Thanks, Nate. I needed to hear that."
"Anytime," Nate replied, kissing the top of Jack's head. "I'm always here for you, no matter what."
"Nate, I just... I feel so useless," Jack sighed, his voice barely above a whisper. "They're not giving me any important matches. Not even fucking useless ones. I get jumped and squashed by two big homophobic assholes and I don't even get a chance to try and make it right. It's like I'm invisible at work."
Nate's heart ached for Jack. He leaned in closer, his tone gentle but firm. "Jack, listen ta me. Your worth isn't measured by whether those pencil pushing fuckers book you. You're talented and hardworking, and sometimes, workplaces just don't recognize that right away. But I got you. I'll keep rep'ing TDH just as Pax does. We'll get ya a match."
Jack glanced up, his eyes filled with doubt. "But what if they're right? What if I'm not good enough?"
Nate shook his head, holding Jack's gaze. "Fuck that. They're not right. You have so much to offer. Remember how you basically made Church of Crosse seem useful? They couldn't stop praising your work. You were amazing. Not sayin' I want ya to go back to cult shit but you got the skill, trust."
A small smile tugged at Jack's lips as he recalled those moments. "Yeah, but those were different."
"No, they weren't," Nate insisted. "They were you showing your skills and making a difference. Just because management aint utilizing you properly doesn't mean you're a failure. Sometimes it takes a while for people to see what you're capable of."
Jack sighed again, but this time it was a softer, more hopeful sound. "I just want to feel like I'm contributing, you know?"
"I know, babe," Nate said, pulling Jack into a warm hug. "And you will. Just give it sum time. Keep being your amazing self, and they'll see it too. And even if they don't, it doesn't change who you are or what you're worth."
Jack hugged him back, tightly. "Thanks, Nate. I needed to hear that."
"Anytime," Nate replied, kissing the top of Jack's head. "I'm always here for you, no matter what."
Man, I gots all kinds of feeling about this match. No shade for Logan. He old as dirt and shit but he go out every week and puts it all out there. Good for him. No hate.
But when I say I want a tag match ya’ll can’t even be bothered to remember I already got a team for this shit?
TDH. We got everything that you DREAM OF. I was a fuckin' nightmare on the mat. Jack? He could squat y'all without breaking a sweat, he got cardio for years that y'all ain't ever dreamed of matching. And Pax? How many times I gotta say O! LYMPIC! WRESTLER! before it sinks in?! Best of the best! Top of the pack! Motherfuckin' beast between those ropes! He does shit that leaves your eyes in knots and your ankles broken, and he does it without thinking!! I hate to pile on, I know my boy got his Hier to the throne shit with his girl, but I’m a hype man by trade and I ain’t gonna miss a chance to shout out my boy.
But for real. Jack is just sitting on the sidelines. Book a motherfucker.
But back to the shit at hand. No hate for Logan. We got the skill. We ain’t got the history. But we got the talent.
You know what? You take this as a learning opportunity, boys. Ducky, you take a second and you ask yourself if you wanna put yourself through this shit… Ain’t ya a little too crazy to keep coming on out to play? Is Spooky McShadowstab talking in the back like ‘Put him in, Coach, he can still play! Don't matter that he's spittin' teeth like a Chicago typewriter and doing more spins than Simone Biles tryin' to hold the tag rope, he's gonna be fine, right?’
Then we got… hol up. Is that an Orc? Like a legit Ogre? Motherfucker, am I wrestling a goblin ass motherfucker? A ‘Meat back on the menu’ kinda dude?
Nah… ya’ll playing…
Shit, I think I saw an anime like this once…
Don’t love that for me.
But nah. Nah.
Hellscream or whateva. You supersized, green-skinned motherfucker. If your goal was to reach the heights of mediocrity, congratulations, you've not even managed that. Your cunning is about as sharp as a rubber sword, and your intelligence? Let's just say a rock would be offended if compared to you.
Your biggest thought is likely tryin’ to decide which foot to move first, and even then, you'd trip over your own incompetence. And that odor?
Face it, even the lowliest dungeon creatures laugh at the thought of you trying to accomplish anything significant. You're not even a threat—just an annoyance, a minor speed bump on the path to something actually challenging.
Honestly?
Bottom of my heart?
Y'all boys FUCKED!
Trust.
But when I say I want a tag match ya’ll can’t even be bothered to remember I already got a team for this shit?
TDH. We got everything that you DREAM OF. I was a fuckin' nightmare on the mat. Jack? He could squat y'all without breaking a sweat, he got cardio for years that y'all ain't ever dreamed of matching. And Pax? How many times I gotta say O! LYMPIC! WRESTLER! before it sinks in?! Best of the best! Top of the pack! Motherfuckin' beast between those ropes! He does shit that leaves your eyes in knots and your ankles broken, and he does it without thinking!! I hate to pile on, I know my boy got his Hier to the throne shit with his girl, but I’m a hype man by trade and I ain’t gonna miss a chance to shout out my boy.
But for real. Jack is just sitting on the sidelines. Book a motherfucker.
But back to the shit at hand. No hate for Logan. We got the skill. We ain’t got the history. But we got the talent.
You know what? You take this as a learning opportunity, boys. Ducky, you take a second and you ask yourself if you wanna put yourself through this shit… Ain’t ya a little too crazy to keep coming on out to play? Is Spooky McShadowstab talking in the back like ‘Put him in, Coach, he can still play! Don't matter that he's spittin' teeth like a Chicago typewriter and doing more spins than Simone Biles tryin' to hold the tag rope, he's gonna be fine, right?’
Then we got… hol up. Is that an Orc? Like a legit Ogre? Motherfucker, am I wrestling a goblin ass motherfucker? A ‘Meat back on the menu’ kinda dude?
Nah… ya’ll playing…
Shit, I think I saw an anime like this once…
Don’t love that for me.
But nah. Nah.
Hellscream or whateva. You supersized, green-skinned motherfucker. If your goal was to reach the heights of mediocrity, congratulations, you've not even managed that. Your cunning is about as sharp as a rubber sword, and your intelligence? Let's just say a rock would be offended if compared to you.
Your biggest thought is likely tryin’ to decide which foot to move first, and even then, you'd trip over your own incompetence. And that odor?
Face it, even the lowliest dungeon creatures laugh at the thought of you trying to accomplish anything significant. You're not even a threat—just an annoyance, a minor speed bump on the path to something actually challenging.
Honestly?
Bottom of my heart?
Y'all boys FUCKED!
Trust.
Well howdy there pardner.