#nate reviews things

[brodygold]

A Game For Bros

Nate and I had always been the same: two nerds, caught up in our own world of video games, D&D, and sci-fi movies. He’d been my best friend since high school, a skinny guy with messy brown hair, always wearing some oversized t-shirt of a superhero. Me? I wasn’t much different. Shorter, stockier, and always in retro game tees. We never got into sports—couldn’t care less, really. But that Saturday, when Nate invited me over to check out a new game, we did something a bit out of our comfort zone.

“I don’t usually go for sports games,” I said as I plopped onto his worn-out couch. The game case for The Golden Army: Rise of Champions sat on the coffee table, glowing in a strange golden light. “What made you pick this one?”

Nate shrugged as he plugged in the system. “The reviews were insane, man. People say it’s super immersive, like you actually feel the game.”

“Sounds cool enough,” I muttered, grabbing a soda. “Let’s see what it’s about.”

Nate’s apartment looked the same as always—cluttered with comic books, action figures, and old consoles. The screen flashed on, bathing the room in golden light as the title appeared: The Golden Army: Rise of Champions. The graphics were sharp, but what immediately caught my attention was how detailed the avatar customization was. We both laughed as we started making characters that were basically us but... stronger, taller, more athletic.

“Man, I wish I was this ripped in real life,” I said, chuckling as I bulked up my avatar.

Nate nodded, not looking up from his controller. “Same here, dude. If only, right?”

Once the game started, though, things got weird fast. It wasn’t like any sports game I’d ever played. It was too smooth, too real. Every movement of my character felt like it was coming from me, like my body was somehow connected to the screen. Nate was feeling it too; I could tell by how focused he’d gotten.

“This feels insane,” I muttered, my fingers flying over the controller as my avatar sprinted down the field. My skin tingled, and for a second, I thought it was just adrenaline from getting into the game.

“Yeah, it’s like... I can *feel* it,” Nate said, his voice lower, more serious than usual.

What I didn’t realize was that I really *was* feeling it. I was changing. My arms, once stocky but kind of soft, were slowly growing harder, leaner, and stronger. My biceps pushed against the fabric of my t-shirt, but I didn’t notice at first. I was too absorbed in the game. Nate wasn’t paying attention either, but he was changing too. His scrawny arms were swelling, his chest growing more defined, the lines of muscle slowly becoming visible under his shirt.

My legs were thickening, my calves bulging as they hardened. Nate’s shoulders broadened as his posture straightened, more relaxed, confident. His shaggy hair started to shift, styling itself into something neater and more athletic. It suited him.

Our avatar dominated the field. Every pass, every kick felt like it was coming straight from us. By the time the match ended, I noticed my t-shirt was stretched tight against my chest, clinging to muscles I didn’t remember having. But it felt normal. Like I’d always been this way. Nate was the same. His shirt had morphed into something sleeker, a fitted gold soccer jersey. I looked down, realizing mine had changed too. I wasn’t in my retro game tee anymore—I was in a gold jersey too, my name stitched across the back.

But we didn’t freak out. We didn’t question it. Why would we? We’d always been jocks, right? That’s how we met in the first place.

“Yo, that was sick, bro!” I grinned at Nate, flexing my now-defined arms. “We totally crushed that game.”

Nate smirked, his voice deeper now, his body lean and athletic. “Hell yeah, man. No one can take us down.”

The room around us had changed too, though we didn’t notice with how invested in the game we were. Gone were the stacks of comics and games. Instead, soccer trophies lined the shelves, photos of us in our golden jerseys, posing as champions of The Golden Army. It was as if our old lives had been erased, replaced entirely by something new.

As we kept playing, our minds continued to shift. I didn’t care about D&D or sci-fi movies anymore. All I could think about was training, getting stronger, being the best. Nate, once shy and quiet, was now exuding confidence. We were athletes, teammates, brothers on and off the field.

Our bodies had finished transforming. I looked over at Nate, admiring how ripped he was now. His short hair was clean, his jawline sharp. He looked... good. Really good. The thought lingered longer than it should have, but I didn’t push it away. Why would I? We’d always been close, but now there was something else there, something that had shifted between us.

I felt my heart race as I caught him looking at me the same way, his eyes lingering on my chest, my arms. The air between us felt electric, like something was pulling us together.

“Yo, Nate,” I started, feeling my pulse quicken. “You ever feel like... there’s more between us than just the game?”

Nate turned to me, his eyes locked on mine, and for a moment, the room was silent. Then he smirked, but there was something softer in his gaze. “Yeah, bro. I’ve been feeling that too.”

It happened without thinking. I reached out, grabbing his hand, and suddenly, I was pulling him closer. Our eyes met, and before I could stop myself, I kissed him. His lips were warm, firm, and everything clicked into place. It was like this was always meant to happen. Like this was who we were supposed to be.

When we finally pulled away, both of us were breathing hard. Nate looked at me, his grin returning. “Damn, bro. That was... intense.”

“Yeah,” I replied, still catching my breath. “But I think we’ve always had this, right? Just took us a while to figure it out.”

Nate nodded, his hand still on my chest, his thumb brushing against the fabric of my jersey. “Always. And now? We’ve got everything we need.”

We leaned in again, and this time, it felt even more right. We were no longer the nerdy duo, lost in games and fantasy worlds. We were champions—alpha jocks, leaders of The Golden Army—and we had found each other. As I held Nate close, our golden jerseys shining in the light, I knew that everything was just how it should be.

“Now how about round 2, bro?”

“Oh, you’re so on bro!”

[dreams-of-me]

Why Don't You Love Me?

Eren x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: domestic abuse!, toxic! Eren, semi-public sex, verbal abuse!, cervix kissing, deep penetration, vaginal penetration, creampie, overstimulation, AFAB Reader, BIPOC reader.

This is a prompt for my dear friend. She is a Yeagerist just like me and she deserves a fanfic that will make her coochie throb! This is based off the relationship between Nate and Maddie from Euphoria and I will not be taking and questions at this time.

"You're such an asshole leave me the fuck alone."

"Oh I'm the asshole because you want to show your ass to other men while you belong to me?"

" I don't belong to anyone but my fucking self, and if I were to belong to someone it wouldn't be you Eren. "

Eren's rage had reached his limit and grabbed you by your throat. He slammed you against the nearest wall and brought his lips close to your ears as he spoke slowly and calmly.

"Listen here bitch, you belong to me even if you don't want to. Even if we break up, you belong to me. You're mine got it."

You couldnt breathe Eren was at least a foot and a half taller than you and her was holding you up by your neck. You looked at him calmly as he spoke because even though the position you were in was painful and terrifying, you could not help yourself when the thought of him fucking you right up against the same wall. You were undeniably aroused by that little vein that popped out of Eren's neck as he spoke.

He let you down and you gasped for air as he walked away. You knew he could've killed you if he wanted but everything before this moment is really what kept you with him. Everything before this moment is what allowed the relization that everything he just told you is true. Even if he were to kill you, you'd be his.

Eren was the type of guy that was absolutely smoking hot and he knew it. Because he knew it he walked around Shiganshina Secondary School like he owned it. He was the social king, the football captain, the hottest guy in school, and average level intelligence. Unfortunately, this made it super apparent that he need a queen very soon as he was in his Junior Year and people were starting to believe that he was Gay from hanging around his best friend Armin so much and Mikasa didn't help as she looked at every girl that got close to him with a death stare.

Eren was also very picky. He didn't want a girl that was too tall or too short. About medium height. Had to be practically hairless, they need a nice rack and a fat ass. More importantly the needed to be confident. He also had a thing for POC girls, how their darker skin seemed to glow in the honey sunlight of golden hour. How the gold jewelry always complimented their skin, and the Lucious lips that was always beautifully adorned with all types of gloss. God, don't even get him started on how they smelled. Which is what brought him to you. You walked past him on the way to your class and he smelled warm vanilla and linen with a fruity scent. He turned around and watched you ass sway away from him as you entered your class.

Later that day he looked for you in the cafeteria. He spotted you with a teammate, Jean it looked like you were reviewing some class work so he walked over to you both.

"No Jean, this needs to be done by tomorrow so that we both have time to prepare to the game this Friday."

"Okay fine ill get it done as soon as I can. Oh what's up Yeager-"

"You're gorgeous. Give me your number?"

"You're not too bad yourself. Its XXX-XXX-XX34." You say confidently. Your lips move with such slow ease that he is entrapped hearing nothing but what he might imagine your moans sound like under him.

"I'll see you at the game this weekend QB 1, but hopefully. I get to see you sometime before that. Text me."

"Yeager, you're hot shit and everything but we have practice let's go."

Eren picked his jaw up off the floor as he watched your hair swing behind you as you walked, turned your head quickly to find him staring then winked. He felt is heart jolt and blood rush straight to his dick. That's the moment where he knew you had to be his queen.

"OH FUCK YES"

"I know, take it all for me."

"EREN FUCK"

"Dirty mouth, its okay I like that. Are you ready for me."

"Please please plea- AH FUCK"

"Fuuuuck."

You would assume this was a porno. You're in a dark and empty classroom blinds closed as the band plays the start of the halftime performance for the night. A classic, Seven Nation Army. The scent of popcorn and hotdogs from the concession stand was in full blast. This was their first game of the season and in the first two quarters Shiganshina's football team had a 21 point lead to 7 from the opposing team.

You had been texting Eren nonstop about everything. Talking about sweet nothings. Getting showered with compliments as well as the occasional gift at the end of the school day. A new set of nails, some lingerie shopping, and of course perfume for your collection. He loved how you smiled when he bought you things, and you adored that he bought you things. The make shift relationship you found yourself was perfect. At the end of the week the night of the game you found yourself holding hands with him walking down the hallway. He kissed you deeply and he told you to text him as he grabbed your ass before walking away.

You liked that Eren was sweet and although affectionate, he wasn't feening for sex...but you were. You'd drool as he'd send you pictures of himself fresh out of the shower after practice. Or when he wore those tight black t-shirts with a gold chain that hugged his arms and pectoral muscles just right. The way his jaw clenched when he focused as he pulled his hair back into a bun made your pussy clench with ease. You were done playing nice.

"Aw princess, did you think I forgot about you?"

"Shut up, no one gives a fuck about you or your ego."

You admit that your personality also changed when you got with him, you were the center attention because you were together, you had the best clothes and style because of him. Girl and guys alike all looked at you like the queen he made you out to be, and if you were his queen, Ymir so help you that your wouldn't take what's yours when you wanted it.

"Watch it Y/N, you know I like when you talk dirty but talking shit is different."

"What you're gonna let little old me bruise your fucking god complex? If I can do it than any other little fucker in this school can and you're just as much of a failure as your older brother and crazy ass father."

You also admit that you took that comment too far in trying to rile him up and unfortunately you paid the fucking price. Family is a sensitive topic for Eren and there is only so much teasing he can take before he snaps. And that's exactly what he did, at the drop of a hat he turned you around and grabbed you by the neck slamming you against the wall of the athletics building where you were both walking to practice.

"Listen up bitch, I don't care what you have to say about me but my family is off fucking limits, not that you would ever know or care about yours seeing as you're so fucking detached from them. "

You looked at him fighting to breathe eyes low and slightly seductive but tearing up as you were being held up by your neck to his height. You grasped at his hand for some leverage but his grip on your neck provided no such thing.

"You're fucking job is to walk around on my arm, look like the hottest bitch in heat that I picked up and suck my cock when I ask you to, questioning me, my athourity, or my family is not part of it and I never wanna hear shit from uppity slut like you… Got it”

He released his hold and you came crashing down.

Fighting to inhale oxygen into your lungs and coughing when the burn of the oxygen passes finally.

He stood there looking down at you unamused.

With a tear in your eye, you look up at him neck already beginning to bruise with a yellowish hue.

“Why don’t you love me?” you said being the most genuine you’ve every been in months.

He scoffed, picked you up and kissed you. Not like usual, not an apology for his abuse but proof that he does care for you in his own twisted way. And that was enough you felt. Enough for you.

He’s always loved doggy style, loved watching your plump ass clap back at him and wave in all it’s glory. So you weren’t surprised when he pushed you away from the kiss and turned you around. Bending you against the wall and hiking your cheer skirt up, pulling the shorts and panties down.

Next thing you knew you felt his dick pressed up against your rubbing against your ass “dumb questions get dumb answers”.

He rammed himself into you, filling you all the way up and sucking his teeth at your tightness. You couldn’t control your moans, he just fucked you so deeply and with so much intent that it was hard not to voice your every sensation.

“Ahh- Erennn”

“mhm say my name.”

“fuck eren, just like that”

You were getting whiplash because right when you said that he pulled out and turned you around again. Lifting you up so that your ankles locked around his hips. Nestling your drippy pussy on his tip.

He gripped both your ass cheeks and pressed you down, fully in-bedding himself in you.

“Fuckkkkkk, ahh it’s so deep”

“just how i like it.”

He continued his pace from earlier as you threw your head back in complete euphoria. He kept it going as if you weighed even less than a feather.

“You’re such a needy bitch, why didn’t you tell me you needed some dick earlier. All of this could’ve been avoided”

It fell on deaf ears obviously because the pain from your neck and the pleasure from your pussy we’re mixing soooo well.

“Ah- More, please more”

He did exactly that pushing himself deeper into you with every thrust, your wetness dripping on the pants of his uniform. He used that wetness to slip a finger in your ass and if you were full before you’re way over the limit now.

“Ngahhhh too muchhhh “

“what, you just asked for more. Take what i give you”

3 more thrusts in and you were cumming all over him, you held onto him for dear life clawing at his back knowing he’d pay for your new mani when you complain about it next week. You didn’t expect him to keep thrusting into you after you came.

“AHHH NOOO”

“Shut the fuck up”

He thrusted deeper, harder, but so much slower because he knew now that you were done he was next. He relished every second of your cries, how you were still fluttering around him but tightening as he pushed into you deeper.

You started shaking as your second orgasm finally took over and he came right along with you, groaning into you ear.

“Shiiiiiiitttttt, ahhh”

You were non-verbal, eyes rolled back as a stream of clear liquid made itself present between the both of you.

He kissed you again. Hotter, more passionate. Gripping the nape of your neck to push both of you deeper into it.

You wrapped your hands in his hair become slightly more conscious.

By the time you both were done practice had ended.

You both texted your coaches about not feeling well including a picture of your soaked uniform lying about “throwing up”.

You went the locker rooms, changed and walked to Eren’s car hand in hand.

You spent the night at his house, exhausted enough to not care about his 30 minute shower. But when he came back, god he smelled amazing. He wrapped you in the blanket before getting into bed himself.

You cuddled into his chest as he stared at the ceiling waiting for sleep to take him.

“what makes you think i don’t love you?”

you don’t respond, pretending to be asleep but with your head and heart wide awake. You know now, those word will never have to be said again

You fell asleep feeling happy, but nothing could prepare you for the week to come when the bruises took their final form…

[acernusaurus]

Legends' Gifts For The Avalance Baby's First Birthday

I was thinking about this for fic reasons but it quickly evolved into its own thing. Let me know if you've got any other ideas.

Ray and Nora

They would give a useful invention and/or magical charm. I'm thinking something that would make parents' lives easier without being an untested, potentially dangerous device around an infant/toddler.

Kendra and/or Carter

Separate or together (I'm not really a fan of the comics direction) I think they would get the most normal gifts as the people who have been parents many times.

Mick

Crème brûlée torch. 'It's for food' is his only explanation when anyone questions it.

Jax

Custom made plastic throwing stars

(Curse AI for being evil and forcing me to Photoshop my own dang nonsense)

Nate and Zari

A set of funny/cute shirts. Stuff like: 'Future ninja', 'My favorite uncle is a Historian', gamer stuff, etc. And maybe something from the ancestors that they say every baby should have.

Behrad

I feel like he would write the baby a song as his gift. And when it ends up on his first album in his own time the kid can't tell anyone about it being hers.

Gary

I think he'd stick with simple: stuffed octopus. Or go way too wild and try to buy everything.

Wally

A trinket from his travels.

Zari

Mithra Merch. Zari doesn't even need to bring it from the future. She happens to know a certain influencer's passwords and promo codes and puts the baby on the list for a very large Dragon Girl fan package.

Charlie

Bass guitar. 100% stolen from someone famous.

Mona

A ton of kids books

Astra

Astra would waffle over what babies want for their birthday and then finally just settle on giving her money.

Spooner

Mushroom plush. It was supposed to be a joke but it becomes the kids main lovey because kids are delightfully unpredictable.

(I didn't expect to have a picture for this one but I stumbled across this while shopping and it was perfect)

Gwyn

Haunted doll (not intentionally). Zari lends Gwyn $50, which already freaks him out (inflation calculator says it's ~$900). And when he tries to go to the mall he walks into the Macy's (a name he recognizes) but enters through the underwear-section door and he instantly turns back around to walk out. Eventually he finds an antique store with this perfectly acceptable children's gift and she is 100% haunted but the ghost is chill.

(I cruised through the doll aisle at a thrift store to find one I liked for this)

Gideon

Gideon has only known one baby personally so I think she'd go with some hot 22nd century or historic toy that was Jonas' favorite as a baby. Or she'd pick the toy with the best reviews at the exact time of the birthday.

[thetarttfuldickhead]

If there’s ever a TL spinoff featuring and the formation of a Richmond’s women’s team and not many of the original cast except for Keeley and Rebecca, I still need need it to start with Jamie dropping Keeley off at work, kissing her goodbye (SURPRISE LOOK AT THOSE TWO CUTIES BACK TOGETHER, Jeeley nation RISE) as she rushes into a meeting with Rebecca, and then Jamie disappears off to his own little adventures off-screen.

The whole episode runs, stuff, stuff, stuff, maybe a few cute/sexy messages from Jamie throughout the day, and it ends with Keeley coming home, humming to herself as she unlocks the door with a huge cup of takeaway coffee in hand, scrolling through her phone as she walks into the kitchen—

“Keeley,” a dark voice says from a corner and Keeley SHRIEKS and THERE’S COFFEE EVERYWHERE and ROY LURKING ABOUT like a creepy weirdo [affectionate].

“Fucking hell!” Keeley says, once she’s done shrieking.

“Sorry,” Roy says, looking zero percent sorry (‘cause you know he lurked on purpose, he’s all about that lurking lifestyle, and it’s their thing, innit).

He steps up to her, takes her in his arms, “Let me make it up to you.” And he kisses her, long and deep and with oh so much barely constrained heat and how could she not respond, even after he scared her half to death again, and even if—

Keeley pulls back a little, frowning and looking towards the door. “Where’s Jamie?”

“Left him doing video review and analysis with Nate, he won’t be back for another couple of hours.”

“Oh. Then I guess we can—“

What they can do is have Roy kiss her again, apparently, because that’s what he does, lifting her up as he goes, and she wraps her legs around his waist and he murmurs I fucking missed you work’s been fucking crazy this week and—

“Actually,” comes a voice from the door, “Nate’s niece called and there been a box emergency, so he let me home early.” And there’s Jamie now, leaning against the door frame and looking super casual about finding his girlfriend snogging his coach.

“Jamie!” Keeley exclaims, startled and with her lips swollen from Roy’s attention.

“Hi, babe,” he says, smiling as he swaggers over to them. “This a benefit for the elderly kind of thing, or have you got room for one more?” He winks at Roy, sticking his tongue out.

Roy scoffs and rolls his eyes because fucking muppet but he stills reaches out to pull Jamie in, kissing him with just as much passion as he just kissed Keeley. “Always,” he says simply. “But,” he adds, a glint of dark pleasure in his eyes, “since you’re being a prick about it, I think we’ll make you do all the work, right, Keeley?”

“Yeah, Royo,” Keeley agrees, feigning a thoughtful purse of her lips. “I think we will.”

“Yeah, okay, mint, yeah.” Jamie looks half-gone already.

And Keeley giggles and wraps her arms tight around her boys and she thinks that they’re wrong, those people that tell you that you can’t have it all.

[hacash]

I saw a couple of reviews saying there wasn’t enough football being shown in season 3, this is why Ted Lasso is ‘losing its touch’, we’re not seeing enough of the significant moments on the pitch etc etc; so because I’m a pedantic little fucker I decided to science the shit out of this. Bare in mind, ‘no football featured’ means no matches, so with that in mind:

Season 1

Pilot – No football featured

Biscuits – Richmond’s bad loss against Crystal Palace, not shown

Trent Crimm: The Independent – no football featured

For the Children – no football featured

Tan Lines – Richmond’s win against Unknown, match shown

Two Aces – No football featured

Make Rebecca Great Again – Richmond’s significant win against Everton, match not shown

The Diamond Dogs – No football featured

All Apologies – No football featured

The Hope That Kills You – Richmond lose against Man City, match shown

Season 2

Goodbye Earl – Richmond draws against Nottingham, match shown (sorry Dani…)

Lavender – No football featured

Do the Right-est Thing – Richmond lose against Coventry after Sam’s protest, match not shown

Carol of the Bells – No football featured

Rainbow – Richmond undergo a bad streak and then play Sheffield Wednesday, match not shown (but the run-up is)

The Signal – Richmond win against Tottenham, match shown (but not the crucial victory)

Headspace – No football featured

Man City – Richmond lose against Man City, match shown

Beard After Hours – No football featured

No Weddings and a Funeral – No football featured

Midnight Train to Royston – Sam scores a hat-trick, not shown

Inverting the Pyramid of Success – Richmond win against Brentford, match shown

Season 3

Smells Like Mean Spirit – No football featured

(I Don’t Want to Go to) Chelsea – Richmond ties with Chelsea, match shown

4-5-1 – Zava leads Richmond to victory, series of matches shown

Big Week – Richmond lose to West Ham, match shown

Signs – Richmond experience a bad run of losses, aftermath of matches shown

Sunflowers – Richmond lose to Ajax, aftermath of match shown

The Strings That Bind Us – Richmond lose to Arsenal, match shown

We’ll Never Have Paris – Richmond enjoy a winning streak, only the reactions shown

La Locker Room Aux Folles – Richmond win against Brighton, match shown (but not Colin’s turnaround)

 I’d say we’re actually seeing a lot more football this season than we have done before. The pattern of not having all the significant moments on the pitch portrayed is something Ted Lasso has been doing since season 1, after all. Remember the win at Everton? Nate’s magnificent ‘Park The Bus’ over Tottenham? Sam’s hat-trick? Isaac getting his mojo back on the field? Nope, neither do I, because we didn’t see them. In a way they’re not nearly as important as the character development off the field that surrounds it, and the show’s always been very honest about that.

After all, the cast do a great job, but with the exception of Cristo Fernandez, they’re not footballers - they were never going to be expected to do all the work on the pitch. Now there might be something of an argument for saying ‘but we’re less emotionally invested in where the team are placing in the league’ this season - but if I’m honest, I remember approaching both the s1 and s2 finales thinking ‘oh that’s where they are in the league?! god, I forgot we were supposed to be keeping track of that’. Football has always been a supporting role in this show, not the star.

Anyway, EXCUSE ME SIR THIS IS THE FOOTBALL ADJACENT SHOW NOT SOCCER SATURDAY THANK YOU

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - mentions of guns,, drug use,, threats,, mentions of affairs

y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷

Chapter 21

Putting together the best musicians, sound and lighting technicians, costumers, and choreographers, he was taking no chances this time. He scoured the music scene for the top sidemen in the business. Auditions were held and he handpicked each player—names such as James Burton, John Wilkinson, Ronny Tutt, Glen D. Hardin, Jerry Scheff. He loved the sound of the Sweet Inspirations, backup group for Aretha Franklin, and he hired them on the spot as a warmup act and to sing backup vocals. He also hired his favorite gospel group, the Imperial Quartet.

Before leaving Los Angeles, Matt rehearsed at RCA Sound Studios for ten days and then polished the act for a full week prior to the opening. It was the event of the summer in Vegas. Colonel Parker brought the preopening publicity to fever pitch. Billboards were up all over town. On the third floor of the International, administrative offices bustled with activity. No other entertainer coming into Vegas had ever stimulated this kind of excitement. The hotel lobby was dominated by Matt paraphernalia—pictures, posters, T-shirts, stuffed animals, balloons, records, souvenir programs. You’d think Barnum and Bailey were coming to town.

Back home there was also excitement as we girls discussed what we’d wear to the opening. “I want you to look extra special, Baby,” Matt said. “This is a big night for all of us.” I hit every boutique in West L.A. before finding just the right outfit.

Though it had been nine years since Matt had given a live performance, you never would have known it from his opening. The audience cheered the moment he stepped onstage and never stopped the entire two hours as Matt sang, “All Shook Up,” “Blue Suede Shoes,” “In the Ghetto,” “Tiger Man,” and “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” He mixed the old with the new, the fast and hot with the lyrical and romantic. It was the first time I’d ever seen Matt perform live. Wanting to surprise me, he had kept me from rehearsals. I was astounded. At the end he left them still cheering and begging for more.

Cary Grant was among the stars who came backstage to congratulate him after the show. But the most touching moment was when Colonel William arrived with tears in his eyes, wanting to know where his boy was. Matt came out of the dressing room and the two men embraced. I believe everyone felt their emotion in that moment of triumph.

I don’t think we slept that night. Nate Doe brought in all the newspapers and we read the rave reviews declaring, “Matt was great” and “He never looked or sang better.” He shared credit for his new success with all of us.

“Well, we did it. It’s going to be a long thirty days, but it’s going to be worth it if we get the reception we got last night. I may have been a real tyrant, but it was well worth it.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” we all agreed, laughing. “You were a tyrant.”

The International Hotel was delirious over Matt’s performance and the box-office receipts. The following day they signed a fiveyear contract with the Colonel for Matt to appear twice a year, usually around the same time, January and August, at the then unheardof salary of one million dollars a year.

Matt literally took over Las Vegas for the entire month he was there, playing to a packed house every show as thousands more were turned away. No matter where we looked, all we could see was the name Matt—on television, newspapers, banners, and billboards. The King had returned.

Initially, Matt’s triumph in Las Vegas brought a new vitality to our marriage. He seemed a different person. Once again, he felt confident about himself as a performer and he continued to watch his weight and work out every day at karate.

It was also the first time that I felt we were functioning as a team. I made several trips to New York, trying to find unique accessories for him to wear onstage. I bought scarves, jewelry, and a black leather belt with chain links all around it that Bill Belew would later copy for the famous Matt jumpsuit belts.

I loved seeing him healthy and happy again, and I especially enjoyed our early days in Vegas. The International provided an elegant three-bedroom suite that we turned into our home away from home. During his show I always sat at the same table down front, never tiring of watching him perform. He was spontaneous and one never knew what to expect from him.

On occasion, after his midnight show, we’d catch lounge acts of other performers playing Vegas or we’d gamble until dawn. Other times we’d relax backstage, visiting with entertainers captivated by his performance. This was the first time I’d been with Matt at a high point in his career.

With the renewed fame came renewed dangers. Offstage he could be guarded by Sonny and Red. Onstage he was a walking target. One night that summer Nate and Sonny were tipped off that a woman in the audience was carrying a gun and had threatened to shoot Matt. A true professional, Matt insisted on going on. Additional precautions were taken and everyone was on the alert. Matt was instructed to stay downstage, making himself a smaller target, and Sonny and Jerry were poised to jump in front of him at the slightest sign of suspicious movement in the audience. Red was positioned in the audience with the FBI agents.

The show seemed to take an eternity. I glanced at Patsy apprehensively and she in turn grasped my hand as we comforted each other, longing for the night to end without incident. James remained backstage, never letting Matt out of his sight and praying, “Dear God, don’t let anything happen to my son.”

Because of this and other threats, extra security was arranged wherever Matt appeared. Entrances through backstages, kitchens, back elevators, and side exits became routine.

Matt had his own theory about assassinations, based on the murders of the Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr., and Robert F. Kennedy. He felt that the assassins gloated over their “accomplishments,” and told his bodyguards that if any attempt were made on his life, they should get the killer—even before the police. He didn’t want anyone bragging to the media that they’d killed Matt Sturniolo.

Sonny and Red lived in so much tension these days that they were constantly frenzied. Suspicious in crowds of overzealous fans, they were quick to respond to any sign of danger. Compared to Sonny’s diplomacy, Red’s reputation was to act first and ask questions later. Eventually, numerous assault-and-battery charges started piling up against Matt. When James warned him about Sonny and Red’s aggressiveness, Matt said, “Goddamn, Red. I hired you to keep the sons of bitches away from me, not get me in any legal binds. Somehow you’re going to have to control that redheaded temper of yours.”

Although Matt would joke about the death threats—and there would be several more throughout the Vegas commitments—the fear and constant need for security heightened the pressure of nightly performing.

In the beginning when Matt began doing regular Vegas engagements, we girls visited frequently. We’d fly in over the weekend, sometimes bringing our children, spend three or four days, and then return home.

On the days we were apart I’d take hundreds of Polaroids and home movies of Charlotte. She was growing so rapidly I didn’t want him to miss out on her development. Daily he’d receive his “care packages,” as I’d refer to them, including tape recordings of me teaching Charlotte new words and Charlotte mimicking me. Each week, upon my arrival, I’d paste photos on the mirrors in his bedroom to remind him that he had a wife and child.

During his first couple of engagements he still seemed humbled by lingering doubts of whether the public was fully accepting him. At this point he had no interest in outside affairs or flirtations, his concentration on daily rehearsals and performances every evening excluding everything else.

Later he would become more cocky. The crowds’ admiration took him back to his triumphs in the early fifties and he found it hard to come down to earth after a month of nightly cheers. His name on the International’s huge marquee would be replaced by the next superstar. The offices on the third floor would be cleared out and incoming calls for reservations would stop.

Thriving on all the excitement, glamour, and hysteria, he found it difficult to go home and resume his role as father and husband. And for me the impossibility of replacing the crowd’s adoration became a real-life nightmare.

At home in Los Angeles, there was just the usual group around—strictly a family atmosphere. This abrupt change was too much for him and soon he developed the habit of lingering in Vegas for days, sometimes weeks, after a show. The boys were finding it increasingly difficult to resolve the conflict between working for Matt and maintaining a home life.

Crazed with inactivity and boredom, Matt became edgy and temperamental, a condition exacerbated by the Dexedrine he was again taking to control his weight.

Sometimes, to ease the transition home, Matt would insist we all pile into cars and head for Palm Springs. Since our marriage we had spent-many weekends there sunning and watching football games and late-night television, but after Charlotte was born, my needs changed. The Palm Springs heat was too much for her, the long drive boring, the idleness of resort life wearying. One weekend I suggested, “Matt, why don’t just you and the guys go down?”

From that time on, the guys developed their own lifestyle in our secluded desert home. Occasionally we wives would be invited to spend the weekend, but by and large, Matt now considered Palm Springs his private refuge.

He made it clear that this time away was good for him, giving him a chance to think, to hang out with the guys. In reality Matt was lost. He did not know what to do with himself after Vegas. He escaped in more powerful, unnecessary prescribed drugs to raise his spirits and ward off boredom.

After he had conquered Vegas, it was agreed that Matt should go back on the road. Colonel immediately began booking concert tours around the nation, starting with an impressive run of six sold-out shows in the Houston Astrodome, which earned over one million dollars in three nights.

The night I arrived in Texas to watch the performance, Amber, Judy, and I flew in on a private jet. I looked down on the Astrodome and found it hard to believe my eyes. The length of a football field—and already sold out. It made me nervous. I could imagine how Matt felt.

Matt too found the Astrodome overwhelming. “Goddamn,” he said when he first walked in. “They expect me to sell this son of a bitch out? It’s a goddamn ocean.”

However dwarfed he was by the giant facility, he electrified his audience. Houston was our first run-in with mass hysteria. The limousine was strategically parked by the stage door for Matt’s immediate getaway. Even so, screaming fans surrounded the car, frantically yelling out his name, presenting flowers, and trying to touch him.

If anything, Houston was an even greater victory than Vegas. The King of Rock and Roll was back on top. The strain of sustaining such a hype was just beginning and, for the moment, I could believe that everything would still be all right. I did not realize the extent to which Matt’s touring was going to separate us, that this in fact was the beginning of the end. After Houston Matt began crossing the country, making one-night stands, flying by day, trying to catch some sleep to maintain the high energy level demanded by his performances. From 1971 on, he toured more than any other artist—three weeks at a time with no days off and two shows on Saturdays and Sundays.

I missed him. We talked constantly of being together more, but he knew that if he let me join him, he couldn’t refuse the requests from regulars whose marriages were also feeling the strain of long separations. For a while a group of us would fly in from time to time, but this didn’t last long. Matt noticed that his employees were lax in discharging their duties to him when spouses were present, and he established a new policy: No wives on the road.

I didn’t really miss the one-night stands, a tedious routine at best: Jump off the plane, rush to the hotel, unpack as little as possible, since you had to check out the next day, go to the performance, then back to the hotel for a little rest before heading back to the airport. Everything was the same except for the name of the town.

It was the day Matt suggested I come to Vegas less often that I became really upset and suspicious. He’d decided that we wives would attend opening and closing nights only.

I knew then I’d have to fight for our relationship or accept the fact that we were now gradually going to grow apart as so many couples in show business do. As a couple, we’d never sat down to plan out a future. Matt, individually, was stretching as an artist, but as man and wife we needed a common reality.

The chances of our marriage surviving were slim indeed as long as he continued to live apart from Charlotte and me, and in bachelor quarters at that. It came down to how much longer I could stand the separation. Matt wanted to have his cake and eat it too. And now, as the tours and long engagements took him even further from his family, I realized that we might never reach my dreams of togetherness.

I had trouble believing that Matt was always faithful, and the more he kept us apart, the more my suspicions grew.

Now when we went to Vegas, I felt more comfortable at the openings. He was always preoccupied with the show and I felt he needed me then. On closing nights I always felt uneasy. Too many days had gone by, enough time for suspicions to poison my thoughts. The Vegas maître d’s invariably planted a bevy of beauties in the front rows for the entertainer to play to. Curious, I would scan their faces while watching Matt closely to see if he seemed to direct his songs to any girl in particular. Suspicious of everyone, my heart ached—but we were never able to talk about it. It was to be accepted as part of the job.

Backstage one night James was jokingly negotiating for a key that had been tossed to Matt. She was an attractive middle-aged blonde—James’s type. Matt said, “Dad, you’ve got enough problems at home with one blonde. You certainly don’t need two.”

“Well, okay,” James said. “You’re going to have problems of your own if your wife goes out in the street looking like that.” I had begun wearing skimpy knit dresses and see-through fabrics that were daringly revealing. Steven and Charlie whistled and gave wolfcalls, while Matt proudly showed me off.

The jokes I played on him were also efforts to get his attention. One night, after he’d left early for a show, I put on a black dress with a black hood and an exceptionally low-cut back. When it came time for Matt to give away kisses to the girls in the audience—a regular part of his show—I went up to the stage. Instead of kissing me, he kept on singing his song, leaving me to stand there. With my hair hiding the dress strap around my neck, I appeared from the back to be nude from the waist up. I could hear the “oooh”s and “ahhhh”s of the audience. They were under the impression that a topless girl had cornered Matt and that he couldn’t figure out what to do.

I kept whispering to him, “Kiss me, kiss me, so I can sit down,” but he decided to turn the joke on me, and made me wait in the spotlight for the duration of the song. Planting a big kiss on my lips, he surprisingly introduced me to the audience. I felt a bit embarrassed and made my way back to my seat.

Later in the show he’d strut back and forth onstage, tease his audience, talk to them, tell them stories, even confide in them. “You know,” he’d say, “some people in this town get a little greedy. I know you folks save a long time to come and hear me sing. I just want you to know, as far as I’m concerned, there won’t be any exorbitant raise in price when you come back. I’m here to entertain you and that’s all I care about.”

Matt was having an ongoing love affair with his audience and the next time I was home alone I knew I had no choice but to start more of a life of my own.

It was with that thought in mind that Amber, my sister Michelle, and I planned a short trip to Palm Springs. In the course of the weekend I opened the mailbox to check the mail and found a number of letters from girls who had obviously been to the house, one in particular signed “Lizard Tongue.” My immediate response was disbelief, followed by outrage. I dialed Vegas and demanded that Nate find Matt and bring him to the telephone. When Nate said Matt was sleeping, I told him about the letters and insisted I speak to Matt. Nate promised that he would have Matt call as soon as he woke up. He did, but it was clear that Nate had filled him in on the situation and Matt had his explanation ready. He was totally innocent, the girls were just fans, they were out of their minds if they said they’d ever come to the house, and besides, it was their word against his. As usual, in the end I apologized for putting him on the spot, but things at this point were becoming too obvious.

He said, “Get out and do things while I’m gone, because if you don’t, you’re going to start getting depressed.”

Although my choices were limited—he still objected to my taking a job or enrolling in classes at college—I continued my dancing and started taking private art instruction.

Matt was a born entertainer and although he tried to avoid crowds, disliked restaurants, and complained he “couldn’t get out like a normal person,” this life-style suited him. He handpicked the people he wanted to be around him—to work with and travel withand they adjusted to his routine and his hours and his temperament. It was a pretty close clan throughout the years. A few arguments erupted and a few couples left over some misunderstandings, but they usually returned in a week or two.

My view of life had been fashioned by Matt. I had entered his world as a young girl and he had provided absolute security. He distrusted any outside influences, which he saw as a threat to the relationship, fearing they would destroy his creation, his ideal. He could never have foreseen what was happening as the consequence of his prolonged absences from home. A major period in my growth was beginning. I still feared our separations but felt that our love had no boundaries, that I was his and if he wanted me to change, I would. For years nothing had existed in my world but him, and now that he was gone for long stretches of time, the inevitable happened. I was creating a life of my own, starting to achieve a sense of security in myself, and discovering there was a whole world outside our marriage.

Over the years of playing Vegas, other pressures began to mount. There were more death threats and lawsuits, including alleged paternity suits and assault-and-battery charges. Jealous husbands claimed they’d seen Matt flirting with their wives, and others continued to charge that Sonny and Red were manhandling them. Matt began to get bored with these nuisances as well as with the sameness of the show. Inevitably, he tried to change the format, but then he felt it just didn’t have the same pacing as the original. He’d add a few songs here and there but then revert to the original. Pointed suggestions that he make changes before the next Vegas date added to the pressure.

Bored and restless, he increased his dependence on chemicals. He thought speed helped him escape from destructive thinking, when in reality it gave him false confidence and unnatural aggressiveness. He started losing perspective on himself and others. To me he became increasingly unreachable.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd. This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - welll..🎀

[polyklok]

Movies I think Dethklok members would really like

No this is not based on anything I’m just in a mood™ rn

Nathan Explosion

Mad God

So, no, I did not have any ounce of an idea of what this movie was about when I originally watched it, and I’m still not 100% sure tbh but an hour and a half of these pure vibes would totally be up Nathan’s alley. The post-apocalyptic setting, all the gore, the details of the various monsters, and I think he would just really appreciate it from an artist’s standpoint as well. This movie would just resonate with him, even if he wouldn’t have a fucking clue what was going on the whole time.

Mary and Max

I’m, personally, a bit on-the-fence about this movie, but it is undeniably sweet and I headcanon Nate to be on the spectrum so 🤷

This would be, like, his guilty pleasure film. The movie he knows is for kids and is totally not brutal but he loves it anyway. The, “I do not feel disabled, defective, or a need to be cured” really hits for him every single time. He rewatches it at least once every few months, especially when he’s in some sort of emotional slump.

Mandy

Another one that just like, like, big Nathan energy, you know? He just seems like a guy to really love loose plots with trippy visuals and strong emotions attached to them. Also, this movie is so completely badass, it is certified metal in his book. He also finds the story incredibly tragic; having the love of your life stripped away from you in such circumstances really tugs at his heartstrings, but in a way that gets him pumped up rather than sad. This is probably his go-to when people ask, “what’s your favorite movie?”

Pickles the Drummer

Son in Law

Okay this is my guilty pleasure movie. I usually don’t like stoner-comedy from the 90s, but this movie hits different. Maybe I just find Crawl hot. Anyway, I’m projecting that onto Pickles. He honestly probably finds a lot of crappy comedies to be peak film, and this is no exception. Pauly Shore pretending to be a country boy for a whole movie? Hells yeah. Pickles would watch while high off his mind, laughing his butt off and going to town on some cheez-its or something. And you know what? He deserves it.

Opal

I’m counting short films because I feel like Opal is the movie for Pickles. He’d watch it on a whim, because these are not usually the types of things he enjoys, and then he’d in tears over the emotional rollercoaster he did not agree to go on. Like, he grew up in a neglective household with authority figures that were overly-selfish and projected their own problems onto the youngest one in the house, to which he had to hide within his own brain more often than not just to properly function. And then he just…watched it happen all again in the hypnotic style of Jack Stauber. The Mom’s song had him in gasping tears for a while, the way you get when a movie somehow perfectly captures your own trauma right in front of you. And the ending??? Ugh. Go watch Opal, guys, it’s on YouTube.

Nathan and Pickles both get very emotional about certain stop-motion films, isn’t that crazy?

House

Thank you to Lucy for this Letterbox review that I think he would write

Anyway-

This movie is actually so insane. It’s not scary in a horror-movie way, like it meant to be, it’s scary as in ‘What the hell is happening and why do I understand it?’ Pickles doesn’t like most traditional horror films, as the long, quiet suspense bores him and the sudden jumpscares freak him the hell out way more than they should. But he loves the campy-wacko-type horror that they were apparently making in 70s Japan. It’s just scary enough to get his heart pumping, but the pure silliness of it all overrides that, getting him in a giddy mood and excited to see what happens next.

(No I am not done but tumblr won’t let me add more pictures)

[fablesrose]

S2 Ch 4 - The Beantown Bailout Job

Series Rewrite Masterlist 

Pairing: Eliot Spencer x Ford!Reader

Description: The team is reunited in Boston and help a father-daughter pair with the mob.

Words: 5498

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I woke up a little earlier than I normally do, got dressed and walked across the hall. I entered with my spare key and started making breakfast and coffee. 

After the whole deal with Blackpoole, Nate was looking for a fresh start, and he decided that that would look like living close to me in Boston. He stayed with me for a few weeks while he got his stuff in order, and then the condo across the hall opened up. He decided to stay close. I didn’t mind, it meant I could keep an eye on him, make sure he was doing okay, especially since he stopped drinking, almost cold turkey. 

I heard him walk down the stairs, “what are you doing here?

I looked up to see him in a well pressed suit, “well, it’s your first day at this new job isn’t it?”

I finished up the breakfast I was making right as the coffee maker indicated it was done. I handed them both to him at the counter before dishing myself a plate.

“Thank you, y/n.” He started to sip on his mug, “Do you have work going on today?”

“I’m vetting possible clients, but no projects, why?”

“Just curious. Uh, Sophie has a musical tonight, here in Boston. Do you wanna come with me?”

“Sure, sounds fun.” I halfway entertained the idea of everyone else being there, but the chances of that were slim. But imagining seeing Eliot again was still a bit fun. 

He left shortly after, I finished cleaning up and returned to my own apartment. It was only a few hours later when I heard the door across the hall slam closed. I quickly called Nate.

“Yeah?”

“Was that you that just slammed your door closed?”

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing back already? It’s not even lunch time.”

“I quit.”

“What?”

“It was just too much.”

I sighed, “Okay.”

“I also helped this girl and her dad get out of a car wreck.”

“What?!”

“I’m a bit worried about them, something seems off. I might go visit them in the hospital again sometime…”

“Okay…”

“I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay.”

The things this man gets himself into…

He knocked on my door that evening, walking in when I called him. I looked at the outfit he was wearing and looked at my own to see we were both in a nicer casual.

“Cool, let me grab my keys.”

We arrived at the theater with plenty of time to spare. As we looked around the opening foyer I heard a voice at the front desk.

“Parker. No, just one name.”

I touched Nate’s arm to point out that Parker was here. Soon as we looked around, I saw that the rest of the crew had come as well. We greeted each other before Sophie came out and said hi. 

“I didn’t know you could sing,” Hardison commented to Sophie.

“You know, not as well as I act, but yeah.”

Hardison and Parker made a bit of horrified eye contact that left me confused. Hardison saw this and shook his head as if to say, ‘don’t ask.’

There was an awkward moment between Nate and Sophie before Sophie insisted on us all meeting up afterwards before she dashed off.

I guess it was time for the show.

It was awful, and that’s all that needs to be said. 

We all went to McRory’s pub after the show. Sophie was distraught as Parker rad some of the reviews.

“Never before has a production of The Sound of Music made me root for the Nazis.”

I cringed a bit in sympathy.

Eliot sat down at the bar with Nate, he was surprised that he had stopped drinking, “how do you know about this place then?”

“We rent condos upstairs,” I told him.

“Condos? Plural?”

I looked at Nate, “we each needed our own space.”

Eliot only nodded. 

Sophie stopped Parker, “No there is nothing you can say to make me feel better.”

“I know what can make you feel better. We should steal something.”

Nate opposed. 

“Yes, we could do it together!” Sophie finally seemed excited. 

“I like this. Get right back up on the bike.” Eliot commented

“Bike of crime,” Parker added.

“Didn’t you earlier tell me how great your new lives were?” Nate asked.

“Yeah, well, I stole the Hope Diamond.” Parker said, “Then I put it back. Yeah, because I was bored. Didn’t care.”

“I spent three days hacking the White House email. No buzz.”

“See?” Sophie pointed.

“But we are doing some pretty hinky stuff in Pakistan. Hinky…”

“Look, I’m miserable. They’re miserable…” Sophie said to Nate before asking Eliot, “Okay, what have you been doing the last six months?”

He hesitated, “I was in Pakistan…”

I raised an eyebrow at him, but he just shrugged. 

“You… You see what you did?” Hardison asked Nate, “You took the world’s best criminals, hitter, hacker, grifter, thief. You took us and you broke us.”

“No, no. I… What I did, I taught you how to help people. That’s all.” Nate argued.

“Exactly.”

“This is the problem with being the good guy! It gets under your skin.” Eliot explained. 

I just took a sip of my mild drink, watching this all happen.

“Look Nate,” Sophie said, “you have to have some poor little lost soul somewhere who needs a little extra legal aid.”

“Look, we agreed that we would just move on.”

“Yeah, but… we’re thieves!”

“Not me! Look, it was great. It was fun, it was wonderful while it lasted, but, you know, I was drunk for most of the time to be honest with you-”

“But you were good,” Eliot interrupted.

“You were the best.”

“We were the best.”

I smiled over my glass, watching them wear Nate down. This was good for him, they were good for him. 

“Listen, I owe all of you, and I’m very proud of what we did, I really am, but… I got my life back and I intend to keep it that way.”

My smile fell. I tried to stare him down, but Nate was pointedly avoiding eye contact. 

“And I am not a thief.” He stood from the bar and walked out, “it was great to see all of ya. Good night.”

I stood as well, “I’m sorry about him, maybe stick around town for a while? It was nice to see you guys again.”

“Don’t worry about it y/n. It was good to see you too.” Eliot said before everyone else said their goodbyes. 

I caught up to Nate on the stairs.

“‘I got my life back?’ Nate, you don’t know what to do with yourself anymore!”

“Y/n, I’m going straight. I’m gonna get a job, a normal job! I’ll figure it out.”

“You better, because these guys saved you better than I ever could. Don’t throw them away.”

He looked at me, “Okay.”

“Okay, I’m going to bed. Don’t stay up too late.”

He waved me off as I stepped into my apartment. I contemplated working a bit more, but decided against it and went straight up to my room and crashed. 

The next day I felt bad for what I said. I looked at the clock and figured he would probably be up by now, even if he quit his job. I walked across the hall, but could hear lots of things happening inside Nate’s apartment. 

I knocked on the door and gently pushed it open, sticking my head in. “Nate?”

“Get out of there!” 

“What?” I saw Nate was on the couch and he was looking towards the kitchen. I stepped in further to see that the whole crew was there in Nate’s apartment.

Nate looked over to me and waved me in further into the apartment as if to say, ‘fine, come on in.’

“What are you guys doing here? Get all this stuff out of here, you’re planning something I know it. Come on, get out of my house, out!” Nate got off the couch and started trying to shew the team away.

“Someone tried to kill you last night.”

“What?!” 

Everyone snapped their heads over to me with a slightly guilty expression. 

“I’m fine.”

Eliot turned back to Nate, “What do you want us to do man? You want us to just blow town, let you figure it out?”

“Yes, actually, that’s exactly what I want you to do.”

“Nate.” I gave him a pointed look, “what did we talk about last night? If someone tried to kill you then we’re gonna need some help.”

“We’re nothing y/n, you’re not getting involved with this.”

“Bullcrap, I’m a grown ass woman, and you obviously are acting like a child!”

Sophie interjected, not letting that go too far, “We found the phone number of the hospital in your pocket, Nate. We know what you did. We know you saved that guy’s life and the little girl, and we’re all really proud of you!”

I sat next to Eliot at the table, Parker on my other side, dressed like a nun, as he applauded Nate. 

“Look, nobody else is gonna help that guy and his little girl, okay?” Hardison said seriously, “that’s what we do, we help people.”

Nate just continued to make coffee. 

“By the way, I compared Sophie’s description of your attacker to the accident footage from the security camera.” He typed away at his laptop, “Do you realize that on average, people are caught on security cameras thirteen times a day?”

“That’s crazy,” I commented and Hardison nodded at me. 

“It is crazy, but we can track him…” He trailed off, “I lost him in this.”

I peaked over the table to see the man on camera take papers out of the briefcase he stole from the man in the crash and dash off. 

“Yeah, well, I found this empty briefcase belonging to Matt Kerrigan at that intersection” Eliot told Nate who was becoming more interested. 

“It’s, uh, Boston Commonwealth Bank right?”

“No,” Nate corrected, “First Independent Boston. That’s where Kerrigan works, come on.”

I smiled, Hardison seeming to have the same thought as me. 

“Who’s this guy?” Eliot pointed at the laptop, and I followed where he was pointing. 

“You don’t know, do you? It’s Kerrigan’s boss, that guy, Leary.” Nate brushed off the stares he got from the crew. 

“Well, who’s the other guy?”

“It’s not clear enough for facial recognition.”

“Well the problem is, those two cats went down to the safety deposit boxes.”

Parker stood, “which is the only room in every bank with absolutely no cameras.”

“Which means we up, baby,” Hardison stood and finished his priest outfit to fit with Parker’s nun. “They tried to kill Kerrigan for what was in the briefcase… We’re gonna steal it back.” He continued as the two of them left.

Eliot laughed, “She’s dressed that way because she’s doin’ a con…”

“What, you thought she was dressed like a nun for no reason?” Nate asked.

“It’s Parker,” Eliot pointed out.

“I didn’t question it either Nate,” I raised my hand. Eliot pointed at me appreciatively.

“Well, fair enough,” Nate conceded. “Okay, I want you out of my house, out.” Naate continued after a moment. He explained that he was going to get cleaned up and he wasn’t involved with any of it. He wanted everything out of his house.

After he went up stairs I turned to Sophie and Eliot who were still there, “you guys can stay, if you need to hide from him pop over to my place across the hall.” I stood from the table and walked towards the door, “keep me in the loop please, I wanna know what's going on!”

“We will, y/n, thank you!” Sophie called. 

I heard Eliot mention something about all of Nate’s sports channels before I closed the door behind me. 

It was a few hours later when Sophie called me back over to Nate’s place. I saw that they had really set up shop in his living room, practically begging for his participation. They gave me a quick recap of what happened, Parker and Hardison going to the bank and retrieving the files Kerrigan had, and then Eliot going to the mob’s fake businesses running into some mob people in the process.

Eliot unpacked a duffel, “This is all the stuff I found in the warehouse, in the boxes.”

Clothing and calendars clearly from the ‘80s were tossed around. I laughed as Parker put on a jacket with the largest shoulder pads I had ever seen.

“This stuff hasn’t left the warehouse since the 1980s” Sophie commented. 

“I feel like a robot,” Parker swung her arms around while in the jacket.

“Wait, so if these are supposed to be just fake businesses, how come their financials are so squeaky clean?” Sophie asked. 

I tilted my head and was about to speak when Nate beat me to it. 

“Because they’re fake businesses.” He paused and tried to justify himself a bit before he continued when no one else commented, “Sophie, how do you catch mob guys?”

“Uh, two glasses of Chianti and a story about my grandma in Sicily.”

“How does the government catch mob guys?” He amended.

“Taxes,” multiple people answered.

“Eh, that’s how they got Capone,” Hardison commented.

“That’s how they get everybody,” Sophie added, “they never get you for the crime, they always get you for the taxes. It’s not really fair.”

“So thirty years ago the O’Hares got very smart,” Nate started with his explanation. “You see, they set up all these shell companies: fake sales, fake receipts. They launder all their money through them.”

“And everybody in the family gets a salary,” Hardison realizes. “Yeah, they pay withholding, payroll taxes, pension. It’s all old school.”

“That’s why the businesses are clean,” Eliot adds, “They’re dirty from the inside.”

I found it fascinating how they bounced off each other so easily, it almost seemed like it was rehearsed. Like perhaps they were egging Nate on. 

“Well, yeah, if you have a body in the trunk of your car, you’re gonna drive under the speed limit, aren’t you?” Nate explained. 

“You know, when you’re sober your metaphors get creepier,” Parker tells him.

“I mean, he’s not wrong though.” Everyone turned towards me and I shrugged. 

“But, wait wait,” Hardison interjects, “that still doesn’t explain the last six months of running up bad loans.”

“All from a bank that’s about to close” Sophie mentions. 

“Close?” Nate asked. “No, not close. Get bailed out.” Nate stood from where he was perched on his desk and approached us, “Look, we got a banker in the pocket of the mob. Mob takes out bad loans, cleans out the bank, knowing, three days from now, the government’s gonna come along and then, you know, bail the bank out.”

Eliot sat next to me on the couch as Nate stepped to the front of the group as he explained their operation. I smiled at him and how his knee brushed against mine before turning back to Nate.

“I mean, it’s perfect. You know, I don’t even think it’s illegal. It’s…” He paused, looking out the window before turning back to us, “I mean, if we were gonna do this… this job…”

“Just this one job,” Sophie said.

“Yes, just this one… I mean the con you’d wanna do…”

“Hypothetically,” Hardison added.

“Hypothetically, you know, is the turnabout, of course.”

“Ohh, that is a good one!” Sophie cheers.

I looked back and forth from her to Nate. I have never felt so lost.

“You know, it takes five people to do the turnabout,” Eliot mentions.

“That’s true, there's just four of us,” Sophie said.

“And a half,” Eliot glances at me with a shrug, “just saying.”

I smirked as Nate glared at the two of us.

“One more person, hmm,” Parker eggs a bit.

“Yeah, we gotta scare the banker into turning against the mob,” Nate said contemplatively. “Alright. Alright, we’ll do this job, just this one.”

The rest humbly agreed with him, acting as if it were a surprise.

“Hardison, you and Parker, you’re gonna be on the badge,” Nate directed. “Eliot, sheepdog. Sophie-”

“Ice queen!” She completed.

“And I’m the bag man. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go call a professional killer who tried to murder me and arrange to meet him in an isolated location.”

I slowly raised my hand.

“You are going to stay here. You’ll be lucky if you get to participate in this one.”

I sighed, “Fair… I guess. Can you tell me what a turnabout con is?”

“All in due time.” He walked off, presumably to make his phone call. 

“See that? He did miss us!” Sophie awed.

“More than he’d like to admit, that’s for sure,” I looked at all of them before adding, “but I didn’t tell you that.”

They all smiled and nodded, Hardison making a zipped lips motion.

Everyone got ready for their respective roles, and while I wasn’t involved, they let me out of the apartment to observe, and maybe help a little. I came along with Hardison, Parker, and Eliot. I waited around the corner until Eliot finished his intimidating stare passing by Leary. When he came around the corner, he handed me a few of the mini explosive charges to help place them on the wall of the bank. 

“Hey, this detonator, if I’m around the corner, is it still gonna be in range?” Eliot asked Hardison while we walked away.

“Should be. I haven’t worked out all the kinks yet… Sometimes the things just go off,” Hardison answered.

I blanched a bit, “What?”

Eliot stopped him, “Wait, hey. I thought you said this thing was safe.”

“Mostly. Mostly safe. I was very specific. Sometimes the frequencies get messed up.”

“What frequencies, man? Huh? I got these things in my pants,” Eliot scrambled, reaching into his pockets.

“Like, uh, you know, a garage door opener, a car alarm.”

Just then a woman came out of the bank and accidentally set off her car alarm near us. Eliot and I flinched and I became very aware of the few left over explosives in my hand.

I quickly shoved them into Hardison’s hands, “take them.”

Eliot was still digging them out of his pockets when Parker asked Hardison, “what are the odds that Eliot’s crotch will actually explode?”

“Dammit Hardison,” Eliot exclaimed as he walked off.

I cringed in sympathy while Hardison laughed. He called Sophie to get an update. Everything seemed to be going to plan with Nate and Sophie having an in with the mob and we went to meet them back at Nate’s apartment with the exception of Eliot who would stick around for Leary. He would set off the explosives acting like gunshots once he came out of the bank.

Once Nate came back and it was determined he was no worse for wear, he decided he was going to go visit the Kerrigans.

“Do you want me to come with you?” I asked, while I knew he was much better with hospitals now, it didn’t hurt to have someone with him. 

He contemplated for a second before nodding. 

Once we arrived at the father’s hospital room, we approached the daughter sitting next to him. Nate said hi first and then introduced me to her. I sat next to her with Nate standing on the other side of the bed. 

She was fiddling with a necklace she had on, but stopped when she noticed I had noticed, “Nervous habit.”

I nodded, “what is that?”

She picked it up again to look at it, “St. Brigid. My mother’s name. Dad got it for me after she died.”

“So how are you doing?” Nate asked her after a moment. 

Her face twisted in disappointment, “They say the accident is his fault.”

“No,” Nate quickly replied, “No, now listen, your dad, he found some papers at work, and he was trying to figure out what they meant, and he got a little too close to something…”

“No, but it’s not his fault. It was my fault," she insisted.

I placed my hand on her shoulder, “No, no, it wasn’t your fault.”

“He said something was bothering him at work. I told him to call the police, and now… now they…” she trailed off before speaking again. “There are wolves in the world. That’s what dad says, ‘be careful, Zoe. There are wolves in the world.’”

Nate nodded and circled the bed to crouch next to her, “He was not wrong.”

She grasped her father’s hand, “so the world’s just like this, huh? Bad people do bad things, and they always get away with it. Nobody stops them.”

I looked at Nate who had the same grim look on his face as I did. We stayed for a little bit longer, but it soon came time to get back.

The plan was coming to its final act. Hardison passed out new earbuds while explaining that they were more comfortable and even better than before. I put one in and realized that they were more comfortable than I remembered them. 

“Okay, if this works, our friend Mr. Leary, he goes to the State Police, he runs, he spills his guts. Eliot, make sure he gets there.”

“I’m on it.”

“Wait, Eliot,” Nate called him, looking at me. 

He turned back.

“Take y/n with you. Keep her safe, please. She should be good with surveillance.”

I smiled before following Eliot.

Nate grabbed my arm when I passed, “Be careful.”

“I will.”

We didn’t talk much when watching for Leary. We quickly followed when he got in his car and drove off. Everything seemed to be going great at first. Nate was talking to the O’Hares when Leary started making a few wrong turns if he were going to the police. 

“Eliot, where is he going?”

He grunted, “I don’t know yet.”

Soon he pulled into the harbor and we quickly swung around to the other side before following on foot. 

“Eliot, y/n, is Leary with the cops? We don’t have a lot of room for error,” Nate asked through the comms. 

“Uh, slight problem Nate,” I responded.

“Leary drove down to the waterfront, dumped his car. He’s headin’ right for you.” Eliot tucked me behind him when Leary walked past.

“He was supposed to go to the cops.”

“Well then I don’t know what he’s doing,” Eliot responded to Nate before turning to me. “I’m gonna follow him, you go back to the car, I don’t know what’s going on. Stay safe and out of sight from the mob guys.”

I opened my mouth, but didn’t say anything. I quickly closed it and nodded before turning back towards the car we came in. As much as I wanted to help, I was in way over my head here. On the way to the car, there was a group of mob guys approaching. I quickly ducked behind some junk and debris and held my breath as they passed by my hiding spot. I peeked around to see that there was one who stuck around the area of my escape route. Luckily he was far enough away to not notice me, but if I moved too much, or tried to run, that wasn’t guaranteed. 

I whispered, hoping Hardison was right that the comm would pick it up, “Eliot, be careful, there's mob guys coming your way.”

“Okay, guys, it’s not O’Hare,” I heard Nate through my comm. 

“What?” Sophie asked.

“Uh, no. O’Hare is not the boss is what I’m saying.” 

“No. This whole con was built around O’Hare.” 

“Ooh, they’re probably gonna shoot Nate in the face,” Parker said.

“Uh, Parker, I can hear you.”

I bit my lip, trying not to make a sound. I kept peeking around to see that the mob guy was still there, just smoking a cigarette leisurely.  

Parker apologized as Sophie emphasized our predicament. 

“Alright, listen, we’re gonna have to make this one up as we go.”

I listened as Nate talked to O’Hare and Leary, trying to smooth over some wrinkles. I peeked out again to see the guy had finished his cigarette and walked off in the same direction as the previous group. I waited for him to pass and get far enough away before dashing off to the car. Luckily there was nobody else in the way of me getting further from the warehouse. I slipped in the car with a sigh of relief and locked myself in. I eagerly listened to my comm to find out what was going on.

There was some grunting and rustling that seemed to come from Eliot, “Alright, alright!”

“Eliot?” I asked, “Are you okay?”

I only heard an intentional hum in reply before Eliot whispered to someone, “You better know what you’re doing.”

There was a beat before Nate called, “Hey, hey, he’s got a state trooper badge!”

I could hear other people talking, but not what they were saying before Eliot whispered a “woah.”

Then I heard more clearly from O’Hare, “you kill him. I fixed Kerrigan’s breaks, I’m not killing a cop!”

“Look, you screwed up Kerrigan!” Leary replied. 

“No, uh, he’s right. You’re right. He’s-” Nate stuttered along before he was cut off by what sounded like gunshots.

I yelled, “Nate? Eliot? Guys, what’s going on?!”

Hardison responded in my ear, “it’s all good, just stay put, we got this.”

Sophie started speaking in character, “has he got a wire? Come on Ford, get with it! Check him for a wire!”

I sighed in relief, they’ve got this.

“Yes, right on it,” Nate responded.

“This isn’t how we do it in Boston,” I heard O’Hare say.

“Really? This is exactly how we do it in London, except we usually use a razor blade.”

I shivered at the connotation, Sophie could be scary while in character.

“No wire… He has his cellphone though!” Nate called. 

“Hit redial, see who he called,” Sophie said to Leary once he said there was no speed dial number saved. “Leary, right? Annie Kroy,” Sophie introduced herself, “nice little number with the banks there. It’s a shame the rest of your operation’s a bit of a balls-up.”

I heard someone’s phone ringing before Leary asked, “O’Hare? Why was a cop’s last phone call to you?”

I was confused too, I thought back and Eliot never called O’Hare. I realized though, that Nate was supposed to call O’Hare after Eliot and I left. Nate must have given them his phone instead!

“This is… This is a setup,” O’Hare tried to explain. 

“How is this a setup?” Leary asked. “She shot the cop.”

“Yeah, and he’s the one that dialed the phone,” Sophie added. 

“You didn’t want us to shoot him either, did you?” Leary accused, “Why, did you know him?”

“It wasn’t like that! Come on, you know I was in this thing from the beginning.” 

I smiled hearing them bicker and turn on each other. This team sure does know how to create chaos.

“Why… why would I be involved?”

Leary called for his people to follow him, so I assumed O’Hare ran away. 

Eliot stashed the car in a spot where I could see Hardison and Parker peel around the corner towards the warehouse where it sounded like they picked up O’Hare. I listened as they got O’Hare to admit to the bank fraud, Leary’s part in it, as well as the Kerrigan hit.

“Yes!” I cheered, “Hardison, did you record that?”

I heard it played back in my ear as a confirmation.

“Those were the state cops who questioned me!” Leary was back in the warehouse, supposedly with Sophie and Nate.

“Well, do they got any evidence?” Sophie asked.

“No, no, nothing real, just O’Hare’s word against mine.”

“And no documents?”

“No. No, no, I have those. But Kerrigan saw them.”

“And there’s just one problem,” Nate said, “we’re screwed if he wakes up.”

“He won’t,” Leary replied, “Kerrigan’s the last loose end. I’ll take care of him myself.”

“Hey, hey! Whoa, whoa, wait. What about him?”

“Him? Hey, I never touched him. Your fingerprints are all over him. I’ll clean up my mess, you clean up yours.”

I scoffed at how much of a scummy guy Leary was, “Did he really just say that?”

“Afraid so, y/n,” Nate replied. “So, how’d you do it?”

I heard a grunt from Eliot, “Detonator… Ketchup.”

“Ah, the classics.”

“Is that what those gunshots were?” I asked.

“Yes, dear, Eliot had a lovely death scene,” Sophie answered excitedly.

Eliot met me back at the car, sliding into the driver's seat.

“Are you okay?” I asked one more time.

He smiled at me, “Yeah, I might be a little sore, but fine.” He looked down at his chest, “need a new shirt though.” 

I looked at his shirt, and sure enough, he had holes and ketchup everywhere causing me to laugh.

“Were you okay?” He asked me as he put the car in drive.

“Yeah, just had to play hide and seek with some mob guys before getting here, but all good. I was entertained listening to the whole affair from here.”

He rolled his eyes with a smirk as we drove back to the apartment. 

It was a few days later when Kerrigan was well enough to come into the pub where Nate handed over a check. It was from the IRS for Kerrigan finding the tax fraud. He thanked us and started to walk away, but Zoe stayed for a moment. 

She hugged me and then Nate, thanking us as well. “There are wolves in the world,” she said while looking at all of us, “but sometimes they’re the good guys, I guess.” She took Nate’s hand and placed what I saw was her necklace in it.

Nate admired it after she walked away.

“Still your last job?” Sophie asked him.

“Well, uh, maybe, um” Nate stumbled over his words, “I mean, you know, until I find a job I like enough, you know, to stay out of the bars.”

“Idle hands are the devil’s workshop,” Hardison said.

“And then I’m out, I’m done.”

The others agreed half heartedly, as if they didn’t believe him. For the record, I didn’t either. Eliot, Parker, and Hardison left, and I followed shortly after, leaving Nate and Sophie alone. It was a crazy life they all led, and I couldn’t help but think I couldn’t wait until the next time.

I climbed the stairs and glanced at Nate’s door to see it slightly ajar. Curious, I pushed it open and peaked in. Inside I saw Hardison start to set up some TVs.

“Hello?”

He looked up at me, “Oh, hey! You wanna come help me level this?”

I approached cautiously, but helped nevertheless, “What are these for?”

“These are awesome for briefings and watching cameras, sports too.”

“Where’s Parker and Eliot?”

“She’s grabbing some stuff, Eliot’s working next door.”

“Next door-”

The door opened and shut and I looked over to see Nate walk in.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! What are you doing there?” He said once he saw us. 

“I’m runnin’ this CAT-5 cable to the-”

“Oh, no, no, no, no. You don’t understand. I don’t want to have these monitors in my apartment,” he explained before turning to me, “and why are you helping him?”

I shrugged, “I just didn’t ask questions.”

“Coming through!” Parker came in holding a large painting.

Nate backtracked towards her, “No! Parker, no! Not that painting! I don’t ever want to see that painting.”

Parker stopped and waved it in front of her as she spoke in a funny voice, “Hi, I’m old Nate and I live here too!”

“You can’t just break in here and start hanging stuff…”

Hardison stopped him, “For repairs and renovations, your landlord has full access to your dwellings. It’s in the lease.”

That made me pause, “What?”

“What are you doing reading my lease?”

“I bought the building!”

“You bought the…”

“You’re our landlord?” I hesitantly fist bumped Hardison when he offered it. 

I flinched when a chainsaw noise started and followed Nate when he found where the noise was coming from. The chainsaw was coming from the other side of the wall through to Nate’s apartment.

Nate repeated no when he saw what was happening, but it was futile. Eliot walked in after cutting out a makeshift door covered in sawdust. He looked very proud of himself, but with the cloud of dust that came out, I couldn’t react other than sneeze.

Nate coughed before turning to me, “why didn’t they do this to your apartment? You’re the one who wanted them around.”

“Whoa,” Eliot said.

“We’re not gonna crash a lady’s apartment,” Hardison finished as if it were a no-brainer.

I huffed out a laugh and a shrug, not fighting it when Hardison and Parker wrapped their arms around Nate and I’s shoulders. What a day.

Tags: @isoldeahlstrom @kniselle

[warcorrespondence]

It's been weeks since our last bradnate review! You must all be desperate, I know! Well, never fear, the brainrot has not yet ceased...

Leading the Way by nogoaway

fandom: generation kill

pairing: bradnate

explicit, 27581 words

The description reads: "In which Nate, being an officer at heart, takes approximately 25 years to find his own dick with a map." I had this fic in my "Marked For Later" for ages mainly because I knew, based on that sentence alone, that I was going to love everything about it, and I wanted to save it up. I was not wrong.

If, like me, you enjoy seeing your beloveds beat up and bloodied on the floor, but, like, emotionally, this is the fic for you.

It's entirely from Nate's POV, and such a tortured POV it is. Immediately after OIF, Brad makes his move, and Nate, wracked with trauma and self-abnegation, turns him down. It is a brutal scene, because the reader knows how difficult and meaningful this is for Brad - but Nate misreads it entirely.

“We're home.” Brad pressed harder against him. “You're out, or as good as. What, exactly, is your problem?” Nate couldn't believe him. “Are you out of your mind?” “Crazy about you,” Brad deadpanned. “Stark raving mad. What?” “Look,” Nate said, baffled and frustrated that he was being asked to articulate something that Brad was more than smart enough to know for himself at the age of twenty-seven with a career in the infantry, “sometimes this-- these things can happen, in combat. It's a consequence of the environment. And it's best to just move on, and forget about it.” He'd seen the expression on Brad's face exactly twice before-- once when they turned back three dozen Iraqi surrenders into the desert, and once when a civilian hamlet he was observing was hit by an air strike. It was Brad very intentionally relaxing all of his muscles, gathering up everything inside of himself that was not strictly professional, and packing it away. Nate was familiar with this method, and he liked to think that his own 'packing-it-up' expression was not so obvious. But, as had been established, he was full of shit when it came to hiding what he was feeling from Brad Colbert. He should just get up and leave, but it sat sour in his stomach to have this be the last he saw of Brad in a casual setting, the last honest conversation they would ever have. It was beneath both of them to leave all of Iraq like this, over something like this. “It happens, Brad.” He clenched his fists under the table. “It doesn't mean anything. We're still-- we're good.” Something flickered across Brad's face-- surprise, and something almost like curiosity, like Nate was an indistinct structure in the distance that he had first mistaken for a mirage. “You're fucked up about this,” he said, with what sounded like genuine awe. “I thought East-Coast Ivy-Leaguers were falling over themselves to outdo each other on tolerance. Did something happen to you?” Nate swallowed the 'it's none of your fucking business', because it would just sound like 'yes'. Brad clearly had some idea in his head of what Nate's reasoning was. “Nothing 'happened'. I'm just realistic.”

All right, I know that was a really long excerpt, but what you don't realize is how painful it was for me to make it that short. And I'm not even giving much away, because that is the second chapter. The remainder of the fic stays with Nate (and mostly stays away from Brad) as he figures out what he was hearing, and what he should have said in return.

It takes a while. And if I'm honest, Brad is a little too well-adjusted for me to fully believe (like, this is Brad...Colbert we're talking about?) But that's a quibble, and it's necessary, because it's Nate's story, and Brad's fucked-upedness just happens offscreen. But when they do work it out, it is earned, and they know exactly what it all has meant, and so it's all worth it.

[mirandapriestlyswife]

Mirandy Fanfic- Apocalypse Au: Prologue

Hi! Before you read I would just like to say as a disclaimed this is my first fanfic and it has not been peer reviewed or anything of that sort so I apologize for any spelling or grammatical mistakes. This AU is heavily inspired by “Last Man on Earth” and I intend to write multiple chapters for it. Constructive criticism is welcome! Please enjoy :)

New York City, the city that never sleeps. Theres always some type of noise; sirens, traffic, yelling… Theres always some type of noise. Something to serve as a reminder that, “Hey! You aren’t the only person in the whole world!”. At least thats what it used to sound like..

Tonight, all that could be audible was the rustling of trash in the frigid November air. Andrea Sachs, Andy, former reporter for The Mirror marched her way down block after block. She couldn’t pin point exactly when the pandemic began. Early March of last year perhaps? Or maybe mid February? She couldn’t remember.. Hell, she was still trying to process the fact that everyone, everything she once knew was dead and gone.

New York City had been put under lockdown almost immediately after the United States government had declared a national pandemic. Andy hadn’t seen her parents since..

Sure, they’d talk over the phone, but there was little to talk about when the entire world was practically put on pause. She heard from her sister, Jill, every once in a while, but she had her own problems.

Andy had borderline lost complete touch with her entire family by August of that year, until she was notified that she had lost not one, but both parents to the infection. Both dead at home, not even in a hospital. Soon followed her nephew, then her sister, then her sister’s husband. In only a matter of 6 months she had lost the people most important to her.

After her and Nate, her ex boyfriend, had split, her childhood best friend had graciously allowed her to crash on her couch until she found her own place. Living with Lily was… Well.. Not the easiest.. Somehow this girl, even in the midst of a global pandemic, still managed to bring home a guy every weekend. At the time Andy had debated killing Lily on more than one occasion.. Oh how she envies those times. Two months later, Lily passed. The hospitals were already crammed to the brim with patients so, just like her parents, her best friend had died at home.. But this time, it was even worse, since she was the one to discover that body.

Andy had always been sensitive, possibly too much so. But she can’t recall a time she had cried harder than when looking at the lifeless corpse of the girl she’d known for more than half her life. Oh Lily..

She got laid off the next week. You would think the world of journalism would be booming during such trying times? But no. People simply stopped reading the paper. “Too depressing” is what she remembers her mother saying when Andy had asked if they had seen the latest death poll. She couldn’t blame people for not reading the news. God knows she would’ve too if it wasn’t the only thing keeping her from going insane. With every book in her apartment being read more than twice, along with having long ran out of DVDs, the only thing she could find comfort in now was the constant cycle of magazines and newspapers placed at her apartment door every morning. Eventually that stopped coming too.

Eventually.. Everything stopped. Electricity, running water, food. It just all.. Came to a halt. People seemed to have disappeared. It was like the entire human race just one day packed their bags and left Andy there. Alone. She was all alone. She cried over the fact a lot. No, not cried.. More like wailed. Wailed as loud as one could, hoping that someone, something would hear her, and come over and bring her into a warm comforting hug..

Of course the chances of that were 0 but.. She still had some hope. Tonight, Andy lazily roamed around the streets of New York, glancing into long abandoned shops and restaurants.. Often times she found herself sleeping in luxurious hotels and suites for free. I mean, why not? If theres no one there to charge you or say, “Ma’am this is an art museum, you cant stay here.” Why not sleep in The Met??

She walked with purpose down those cracking sidewalks, even though in reality she knew she had nothing left to live for. Had she contemplated suicide? On multiple occasions. The only reason she was even still alive at all was because she knew her parents would’ve wanted her to keep going, “keep fighting” her father would say. Andy sighed, what purpose was fighting if there was nothing to fight for? She walked aimlessly for hours, only stopping every so often to raid a bodega for a bag of expired chips. She rarely thinks of her time at Runway, or at least she tries not to, since it just opens up a can of unresolved feelings that she cares not to open. She wonders what those clackers would think of her now. It makes her chuckle. Thoughts of models with mouths gaping in shock at the sight of Andy Sachs, in her college hoodie and jeans she hadn’t washed since July making her way down Manhattan with a bag of expired Doritos and no makeup, flood her mind, causing the rarest of chuckles to fall from her lips.

The only reason that Runway even popped into her head was due to the sight of the massive, ever-ominous, Elias-Clarke building across the street. Oh how she despised that building. She’d walked past it a million times. One million more times than she had liked to. Every time she saw the damned thing it brought up feelings… Feelings she’d love to forget. Feelings towards fashion, towards Runway, towards her.

The dragon lady, the ice cold bitch of fashion, Miranda Priestly. The woman that had stolen Andreas heart and stomped on with her Prada heels.

Andy cringes at the shameful acts of her past self. Falling head over heels for a woman is one thing.. But falling for a woman 25 years her senior, and thats super rich and powerful?? Oh how could one be so stupid?!

Now here she stands, before her former prison of employment. She’d never actually bothered to intrude the building. She figured she’d find the usual. Abandoned computers, dust bunnies, medical masks, maybe the occasional cockroach. Shockingly, even after seemingly every other living organism had died out.. Or at least reduced in size, cockroaches rained ever strong. Six legged assholes.

Something inside her tells her, “Just go for it. Get some closure.” So, thats exactly what she does. She crosses the empty street, sliding over a taxi that had inconveniently been abandoned in the middle of the road, and walked right up to the front door.

“Its probably locked..” She muttered to nobody. Andy had developed this habit of talking to herself over the months of isolation. It was comforting, to hear a voice. She jiggled the rotating door and to her utter shock. The thing budged. And in one swift motion, she was in the lobby of the Elias-Clarke building once again. Things have hardly changed… Well.. besides the lack of anorexic models talking about how they “Almost called in fat today.” She rolled her eyes at the memory of hearing a 100 pound model saying those exact words to her.

Andy stops at the stairwell. Should she go up to the Runway floor? Why not? Whats the harm? Worst thing that could happen is she cries, and it isn’t like she wasn’t going to do that anyways. She made her way up the stairs. Climbing floor after floor until eventually she found her way to her former place of employment. More like imprisonment, but still. She abandons her empty Dorito bag on her old second assistants desk. She wonders what skinny 5’11 blonde supermodel Miranda had replaced her with. Had her name been Stacy? Or Sylvia? Or-

Andys shocked out of her thoughts when she hears a noise. Walking.. Yeah thats- that’s definitely walking. She stops frozen in place. The building is almost entirely dark besides the sunlight coming from the windows where Mirandas office used to be, so she couldn’t exactly see well. Her whole body starts shaking. What should she do?! She hadn’t seen an actual living person since.. Since.. Since she couldn’t even remember. The walking got louder, the click clack of what sounded like… High heels..? No it couldn’t-

Andys internal monologue is suddenly silenced when she hears a gasp from behind her. Shes too stunned to move, to speak, to do much of anything besides meekly turn her head around. And who is she greeted with?? No one other than the dragon lady herself of course…

“Andrea?” An impossibly regal Miranda Priestly asks.

And thats about it for the prologue! Thank you so much for reading :)

[vilf-lover]

okay my review of kenju audio 🙂‍↕️

now- no hate. kind of. i absolutely don’t condone or encourage stealing other peoples artistic visions and ideas and creations but also i don’t want to criticize some doing something that makes them happy. you get it.

first: telepath bf comforts you

excited and scared, very scared. geordi and james aren’t exactly in the best places right about now but this is not redacted audio…….

okay….he’s australian

NO HATE TO MY AUSTRALIAN BABES I WAS JUST THROWN FOR A LOOP

i can’t really explain how i feel about this. i’m um bored.

it’s very “i’m home. you suck. what’s wrong. you suck.” *extensive sigh*

where’s the flavor 😃

it’s giving early david but like not at all

he’s like more of a walking red flag believe it or not

so i’ve found the reason we’re being comforted he says “if they’re mean to you again” we getting bullied or what

“you’re my mess” brother wrap it up im so sorry but what

“you really shouldn’t let that stuff get to you- it’s a lot of bullcrap” 😐 okay

“you need to not care as much about what people think of you” that’s enough, this is not a pep talk

“just be yourself and that’s all you can ask for” i feel like im back in middle school at the inspirational seminars

“now are you done moping. LITTLE. BABY.” yk i can’t tell if david was this bad and im just more attracted to the idea of him or if this is just. dry. AND mean.

OH MY GOD AND ITS OVER ✊🏼✊🏼✊🏼

he wasn’t even supposed to be tsundere 😢

it was just boring, that’s really all. there was no background noise, stale line reading, very very scripted vibes (yeah i know the whole thing in this genre is a script you know what i meannnn)

i can’t even muster the courage to listen to the vampire ones because i’ll fight someone if i feel even a glimpse of sam-like mannerism

second AND LAST: tsundere werewolf has shifting trouble 😀😀😀😀

now part of me was trying to work with the benefit of the doubt and not think he was copying erik. this title within itself confirmed he is indeed. i’m not excited for this one especially after the last one.

no one can recreate my milo tho so this will be interesting

first second and i’m hearing grunting and i want to turn my phone off.

“go away, can’t you see i’m busy” get milo’s words out of your mouth

WAIT HES IN THE LIVING ROOM 😰😰😰

wait okay guys i’ve made a horrible lapse in judgement. he’s not having trouble shifting. he’s having trouble *not* shifting 😮‍💨 phew thought he was copying redacted but it seems like we’re all good

he fell down the stairs because he shifted randomly 😭😭😭

damn he’s mean

oh and it’s just his leg that’s shifting

i’m gonna go to sleep and this isn’t a sleep aid

OH HE USES THE SAME GROWLING SOUND EFFECT LMFAO 🐺🐺

OH WAIT THIS IS LIKE YOU GET BITTEN AND TURN

wow vamp x werewolf lore crossover

“i pride myself on my control with my shifting” well that’s a bit of a problem now isn’t it

“god knows i wouldn’t hear the end of it from lucas and i know i would just get speeches from nate” …right right right

ohhhh and he’s the beta ☝🏼

“and don’t call me puppy” oh???? wow we’re really just collecting character traits

i had to skip through the rest fairly quickly because i simply could not

AND WE ARE DONE.

@vegafan69 my professional review done 🤓

[csigeoblue]

Double Date Part 2 - Roy Kent x Platonic!Reader (Ted Lasso)

A/N: Roy being the bestest friend and keeping you safe. Part 1 It was pretty late when you made it inside Nelson Road. You kept your hoodie up to try to cover as much of your face as you could. Grateful the guy who lived in the Stadium let you in the door after you mentioned Roy's name without asking any questions Walking through the tunnels with the lights flickering only enhanced your sense of dread. You couldn't shake the feeling of being watched even though you knew no one else was there at this time of night. While you didn't have a good plan, you knew you could hide in the boot room since it had the most privacy and leave through the tunnels in the morning before the team arrived.

Keep reading

Yeah you could've called Roy but it was late and you didn't want to put him out over this. He'd told you a thousand times that Luke was bad news but you swore up and down he wasn't anything other than a gentleman. What a liar you turned out to be. By the time you made it inside to the boot room, your adrenaline had faded. You finally felt safe and curled up on the floor behind the boot wall.

____________________

When Will showed up in the morning, he was ready to tackle the day. Although he never quite won over Nate Shelley while he was around, the Greyhounds had been very receptive to his little improvements he'd made to Nate's processes. Because of this he liked to start off the day in the locker room reviewing everything he'd set out the night before and sprayed a lavender scent there and in the boot room to start the day off right. Not today though. Upon entering the boot room, he knew something was off. There were dirt tracks left on his floor! He followed them cautiously around the corner of the boot wall to find... you. fast asleep. Oh wait are those scrapes on your face?! Blood? Oh dear. Will checked his watch and knew that the coaches should be here any minute. For now, you didn't show any signs of waking but the room was chilly so he took towel and laid it gently around you in case you were cold. With that he left the room as quietly as he could to find Roy ideally but Ted would do too.

______________________

"Ey, uh.. Coach Kent?" Roy continued ignoring Will who'd stood at his door for 5 minutes already before saying anything.

"Coach, Sorry to disturb you so soon after you've arrived but you're needed in the Boot Room." Will fumbled his way through the sentence but he finally got Roy's attention.

"Why the fuck would I need to go to the fucking smellyarse Boot Room first the in the fucking morning?" Roy didn't yell but Will was nodding along polite as he is. He took a deep breathe and finally told the whole truth.

"Because I found your friend Y/F/N Y/L/N in there asleep when I came in this morning with her face a little cut up. Coach, I think she spent the night here."

Roy was up and out of his chair before Will could even finish his sentence once he said you were the reason he was needed in the boot room. Fuuucking hell. What did that prick do to you?

His answer came shortly after that thought as you started mumbling and twitching in your sleep.

He had been just so angry that evening. Ever since that double date, things got worse. He was mean and a little picky before but that night when you arrive home he slammed the door and turned on you, shoving you to the ground. You felt your heart leap into your throat afraid that he would come back so you locked yourself in the bathroom until he went to bed.

"You fucking bitch, you tried to upstage me with your friends huh?" CRASH. There goes the lamp from your coffee table falling into pieces on the floor.

"No no, that wasn't it. I didn't want them to think you were mean when you called your trainees idiots is all. I was trying to fix it. I'm sorry I'm sorry."

"You think I'm mean? You were trying to fix me? I am the best damn thing to ever happen to you. Where would you be without me?" CRASH except this time the glass he threw at the wall was too close to your face and the some shards ricocheted off the wall scraping your face a bit. It was in that moment that you woke up with a start arms flailing, knocking the blanket Will had draped over you away.

"Don't touch me!" Roy's heart broke as he watched you take in your surroundings as you realized you weren't in that horrid memory but at Nelson Road with him in front of you arms up in surrender.

He stayed right where he was as you took deep breathes to try to calm your breathing but it wasn't working. Your panic was increasing instead of subsiding. As you dropped your head on your knees and wrapped your arms around your legs to form a ball, Roy sat down next to you taking you under his arm so you were curled up against him. He texted Keeley.

RK: Y/N is here. It's bad. I don't car what she says she can't go back to that prick. He hurt her. She's going to stay with us for a bit. That okay w u?

KJ: Ofcourse love! Fuck that piece of shit. Do you need me to come there?

RK: Not yet, I've got them for now. Can you ready the guest room just in case? *Keeley reacted with a heart emoji.

Roy smlied at his phone and then pulled you closer.

"Fuck that guy. Fuck what happened. I'm here and you're safe."

[transgenderer]

nate is so chuuni i love him:

How I found the River

Three-and-a-half years ago, when I first conceived of On The Edge, I was feeling discontented — maybe even lost. We were coming out of what was a very rough 2020 for everyone — the pandemic and all the disruptions it caused, and an election that ended in violence. But I was also deeply unhappy with the direction things were headed at FiveThirtyEight. And I wasn’t sure the whole Quasi-Celebrity Election Forecaster Guy thing was working. As I wrote in the book proposal, I felt like “Shamu on exhibit at SeaWorld”, performing tricks for people but not on my own terms. My contract at ABC News ran through the 2022 midterm, and when I walked into their studio on election night, I thought it might be my last election.

It turned out I didn’t need to go that far. Writing this newsletter instead of working for a big corporation has been liberating. The newsletter and the book have helped me to contextualize the nature of a probabilistic forecast and intellectual tradition it comes from. And this has evolved into a much more interesting election than I was expecting. Still, as some reviewers have picked up, On The Edge is a deeply personal book. There’s a lot of reporting in the book (around 200 formal interviews) and a lot of explainers about concepts like game theory and expected value. But it’s also about finding where I fit in.

The place where I fit in is what I call “the River”. It’s a place for people who are very analytical but also highly competitive. The archetypal activity in the River is poker. I’d been a professional poker player from 2004 to 2006, and the first trip I took by plane after the pandemic was to a casino in Florida — which was every bit as much of a shitshow as you’d expect — to play in a World Poker Tour event.

There are other communities in the River, though: Silicon Valley, Wall Street, sportsbetting, crypto, even effective altruism, all of which are covered extensively in the book. And I found I had a lot in common with these people too, even if I sometimes disagree with their politics. There are traits like decoupling, contrarianism and a high risk tolerance that I share with the River, for better or worse. And these seem to be correlated with extremely high-variance outcomes: tremendous success or tremendous failure (as in the case of Sam Bankman-Fried, who is sort of the antihero of the book).

guy who calls the place he feels he fits in the capital-r River...

[buddiebeginz]

Have you seen Six Feet Under? I just started it and… my god, Peter looks incredible!

Six Feet Under is my favorite show of all time. It's something I think everyone should have to watch at least once and it might sound silly to say but I really think it will change how you look at life.

Be warned though there is a lot of talk about death in the show. I mean I assume people know that going in considering it's a show set in a funeral home but like some episodes get really dark and can hit really close to home. There's also a lot of focus on mental health stuff so that can be triggering for some people too.

Peter is amazing in it though Nate is one of my favorite characters of all time. I'm still amazed at the way Peter was able to play a character like Nate and then go on later to be so successful in other stuff especially with 911. When I look at Bobby I don't see Nate at all. I know the fact that Peter is a lot older in 911 is part of it but it's really mostly Peter's acting that so drastically separates the two characters.

If this is your first time watching SFU I'd avoid as many spoilers as you can because certain things happen in the show you definitely don't want spoiled.

If you're interested in other people's thoughts on the show there's this site from around the time the show originally aired: https://www.douxreviews.com/2000/01/six-feet-under.html#season1

This woman reviewed all the eps and gave a lot good thoughts and insight into the show.

I have some SFU gifs/edits that I reblogged a while back here and this is a fav old tumblr I used to follow for SFU stuff too cause I know tumblrs search function sucks now. But again watch out for spoilers.

Oh here's the promos for s3, s4, s5 highly recommend watching them before each of those seasons cause hbo used to release some cool promos back in the day.

Sorry this message got so long 😅like I said it's my fav show. If you ever want to talk about it feel free to dm me.

[treakaluigi]

Review I guess:

What Happens when you mix up both Home Movies and Daria and have the characters live in a weird town where almost weird things happen everyday

You get 2004's Nickelodeon's O'Grady which aired on Noggin's late nate Teen/Young Adult Block "The N"

I had recently discovered this show from a mutual from Twitter posting a clip of this series and I was instantly hooked the animation is amazing, writing is phenomenal and amazing voice cast

For Home Movies and Bob's Burgers fans I honestly recommend checking this series out, since H Jon Benjamin voices multiple characters in this series

10/10 highly recommend

[hedonistbyheart]

I read a review of Deadpool 2 recently and the reviewer was like "it's very funny, but there is no message" and I'm just sitting there like: narrator!Wade literally tells you the message, just like he does in the first movie.

In the first movie he says "this is a romance movie" and then later amends that with "it's a horror movie," because that's the trajectory his life takes in it.

In deadpool 2 he says "this is a family movie" and it is. At first he and Vanessa are trying to become parents (with equal amounts of enthusiasm I might ad, which the reviewer seemed to miss - they argued that only Vanessa wanted a child, which, nope - Wade is hyped as hell), and then, once Vanessa dies, Wade is half-coerced by Colossus into the found family of the X-men. Then he tries to create a connection with X-Force and meanwhile he's trying to bond with Russell, the lonely, disillusioned child and convince Nate that killing a child in the name of his own lost family isn't the answer.

Deadpool 2 is all about family; biological family, found family, filial love, parental love - all these things - and it's not exactly trying to be subtle about it either so I have no idea where that reviewer was coming from.