hackthis_archive | War, Southland and comment-fic, oh my!

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War, Southland and comment-fic, oh my!

It's interesting that the plague showing up in China and the Birthers bullshit only kind of makes me nervous, but

tomricks interrupting his vacation to blog about shit falling apart in Iraq makes me want to crawl under my desk and kiss my ass goodbye.

Also, this article about a personal trainer who put on 88 lbs. just so he could lose it and see what it's like for his clients is pretty compelling. I think this is going to make him a much stronger trainer.

I feel like I'm saying this every time I post (and I probably am, too bad!), BUT, for those stragglers who aren't on the train yet. NBC is re-airing Southland right now in the run up to the premiere (Sept 25th) on Friday nights at 8pm. You can also watch it on NBC.com and on Hulu. They have the first four episodes up (there are only seven), so please, please please, watch it. You won't regret it. Really.

In other Southland news: Michael and Ben start filming tomorrow. If I was any more excited I'd bounce out of my chair. Oh, wait, and L is writing me comment!porn featuring slutty!Ben. You all wish you had an L, but she is mine. Okay, jointly shared with Q and A. And her family. And all of you, but you know what I mean.

Offer Redux!: Oh, and I've been thinking, you know, I had so much fun the last time around that if anybody's got some like photos or something and might want some comment-fic, you know, I think I'm open for business.* Who knows, you might even get L, A and Q to play along too. Then again, they might all boycott and you'll be stuck with me. ;-)

*You know how it goes.

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Oh, what, you people have NOTHING to say to wet, half-naked hs!Brad? Srsly? Fine. FINE. Make me do everything myself, damn.

***
A few unused pictures had remained on Nate's disposable camera. It'd been sitting around forever, to the point that it was getting stupid. He needed to take pictures of something, so bringing it into the boys locker room hadn't seemed like a terrible idea. The guys hadn't cared, hamming it up like the attention whores they were. Only Brad had raised an eyebrow, then promptly disappeared to shower.

Nate was undeterred. He saved the best for last, caught Brad in a towel, wet hair hanging in his eyes. Brad didn't even need to say a word—his expression clearly stated how vastly unimpressed he was.

Nate merely smirked and tossed off a jaunty salute.

The pictures became a slightly bigger deal when someone (Tony) had stolen them, made photocopies, and tossed them down the stairwells in an attempt to get some vengeance on behalf of all the colored folk that white boys had exploited over the years. Or something.

The fact that Tony looked like some kind of bronzed god next to the rest of them—and he wanted Angie to notice—that might've had something to do with it, too.

Needless to say, they were the talk of the school soon enough.

Ray regaled anyone who'd listen with arguments of how svelte (his word) physiques were vastly superior to the muscle-bound meatheads of the rest of the team. Nate didn't really follow, though he was duly offended on the meatheads' behalf.

A shocking number of people believed Ray, nodded along. Many of them girls. Nate would suggest Ray become a politician if he didn't fear Ray might actually do so. He couldn't, in good conscience, inflict that on the world.

The amusement lasted a while...and then Nate heard the grumbling. Again, mostly from girls. They didn't appreciate the lack of self-portraiture. Or of Brad.

Brad just loved that. "I seem to recall you taking a picture of me," Brad said, raising an eyebrow at Nate after he was asked, again, when their pictures would be forthcoming.

Nate smiled his self-deprecating smile and shrugged. "Came out blurry." It was true—technically true—just lacking the tiny detail of how blurry.

Brad didn't ask, but his eyes called bullshit as the girls made annoyed sounds and melted away.

Well, whatever. The picture was blurry—God's honest truth—so Nate had set it aside.

He looked at it sometimes. Not in a creepy way or anything, just...considering. There was something about it. Something purely Brad, a kind of age-old quality there. Oh, his skin was smooth, muscles cut, barely a shadow of stubble on his chin; he had every outward appearance of youth, but something about his eyes, the way he looked at Nate—it stuck with him.

It didn't go away. It was there as he settled into sleep, there when his alarm rudely awoke him, even there when he jerked off in the shower, no matter how hard Nate tried to blank it out, think of anything else. No, his mind always returned to Brad's eyes, filled in the scene: Brad looking at him like that, while Nate thrust into his fist, water sliding down his body. Nate gasped at the jolt that sent through him, steam thick in his lungs. He firmed his grip, imagined Brad doing this, stroking him rough and tight, watching, always watching—

Coming was a rush—freefall when he hadn't expected it. It left him lightheaded and weak, panting against the tile and wondering what the fuck.

What the fuck?

Nate pulled himself together more slowly than usual, the thought of Brad's eyes still tingling in his nerve endings, the wash of pleasure making his head heavy.

He should get rid of the picture. That much was clear.

Nate went to his room and grabbed it, moved to drop it in the trash...but then he did that thing, that thing where he looked at it. And he just couldn't.

Fuck.

Instead he stuffed it in a drawer and pushed it out of his mind. Really, no need to dwell on things that didn't even matter.

He kept the negative.

It still didn't matter. Not at all.

***

The end. (Until Brad finds the picture, but that's someone else's job, A is tired.)

Oh, Nate. You're so cute thinking that you're not totally in love with him.

I have the link to the picture open to write. I just now have to go to work. Unfair! I just want to stay home and write porn!

NO! WORK IS BAD! Says the person who has a 12 hour day ahead of her and won't be able to write. SADNESS!

Nate's denial is a tangible thing. He's gonna be a bit thrown when Brad finds that picture and is all, 'so, is there a reason you keep my picture with the rest of your jerkoff material?' And Nate's gonna be like, '...huh. That's not a bad point.' But then he'll have Brad, so.

YAYYYYYY!

I love how you get all pissy like I'm not systematically working my way down this post. But you know, since you did it yourself I'm sure you don't want my take on it now ;-)

Not want your take? Psha. That's just crazy talk.

You don't even give me a 'wet!Brad = hotassery.' I am abused, I'm telling you.

Dude, I wrote you GS-verse with Natalie and all I get is abuse; I see how it is. Go away so I can write about Brad finding this picture in the back of Nate's nightstand.

Oh, shit, I totally missed that! I FAIL at thread-stalking!

::runs away::

I wrote Ray/Walt and handcuffs further up too :)

I KNOW! I missed that, TOO! I don't know what was going on yesterday, jeez.

It's the overstimulation. How are you supposed to think properly with all the pretty pictures?

Oh Nate. *pets him*

Isn't he just precious? And so, so in denial. Clearly someone needs to kick him out of that. Brad works. Or Ray. Heh. Imagine Ray finding that picture in front of everyone. Oh, Jesus, that'd be hilarious.

had stolen them, made photocopies, and tossed them down the stairwells in an attempt to get some vengeance on behalf of all the colored folk that white boys had exploited over the years. Or something. HA! So Poke.

Wait - this is HS AU fic. *is terribly slow* Awesome!

Nate would suggest Ray become a politician if he didn't fear Ray might actually do so. He couldn't, in good conscience, inflict that on the world. Would he be Republican? Hmmm.

but something about his eyes, the way he looked at Nate—it stuck with him. Ooh. That's just gorgeous.

It still didn't matter. Not at all. Of course not. Poor Nate, all that self-delusion is tiring. Brad will fix that, soon enough.

Since when do you bring the angst? Not that it's not wonderful, but, God, is the sun going to come up in the west tomorrow?

Yes, it is an hs!AU. And what angst? There's no angst. There's lots of denial, but Brad'll clear that up right quick.

Denial doesn't equal angst?

I realized after I hit comment that it said hs!AU in the title. Seriously, am sleep deprived.

No, denial doesn't equal angst! Not if you're not angsting about the denial. Denial can just as easily be comedy.

Fair enough. But Nate doesn't seem to think this is funny. I'm just saying...

DO NOT FUCKING TAUNT HER ABOUT BRINGING THE ANGST.

Do you people not remember what happened LAST TIME?

But I'm taunting A, not Z! And I'm not so much taunting as I am questioning, because I expect A's fic to end on a happy note and it fucks with my worldview when it doesn't.

Believe me, the memory of last time is burnt upon all our souls.

Oh c'mon. Y'all are acting like I'm burning effigies over here. Don't make me do something drastic. *tries to think of something drastic*

There's always torturing us with more Layla-fic. That would be really awful. *nods* /shameless

Fantastic! Liked it very much

Wow, I love that people are reading these. I haven't seen this stuff in two years and it STILL holds up! ::loves::

And thank you!

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War, Southland and comment-fic, oh my!

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