Post by Nate Harris on Sept 19, 2024 4:38:32 GMT
Nate Harris and Jack Ferriman lounging on a comfy couch together in a cozy living room. Nate, a strong, imposing gladiator champion, has one of his muscular legs draped casually over Jack's lap. Jack, just as striking, rests his arm lightly on Nate’s leg while his other hand is busy scrolling through something on his phone. They’re not directly interacting at the moment—Nate was double checking Justine's homework on his tablet—but their proximity and body language reflect a deep connection and comfort with one another.
A TV in the background flickers with a movie or show, its soft sounds creating a peaceful ambiance. The room is dimly lit, with a lamp casting a warm glow, adding to the intimate atmosphere. While each is focused on their own activity, the way they remain physically close—Nate's leg resting comfortably on Jack, their bodies leaning slightly toward each other—speaks to their quiet affection. Even in the silence, their love is palpable, sometimes just being near each other is enough to feel connected.
They’d moved in together since getting back from Japan. Jack was over all the time before anyway so all it was really now was moving the rest of his things in. Justine and Zoe were pretty okay with it. There were light growing pains to be sure but it was getting to the point it felt normal.
Jack lightly squeezed Nate’s leg, “How was the gym?"
“Weren’t you meant to be rubbing my feet, motherfucker?” Nate teased. “I was at the gym all day today. It was good. Felt weird to be alone but shit is what it is.”
“Love you too.” Jack laughed, “You not overdoing it are ya?"
“Nah, I'm making sure he ain't gonna surprise me. I'm in the best shape of my life."
“Don’t get too cocky. He could surprise you.”
“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll handle it. I’ll keep delivering the good shit and we’ll get you some matches.”
“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
Nate leaned over and kissed Jack softly, “I know. I won’t. Trust.”
“What’s FUCKING GOOD?
Nah, for real, what is fucking good IWF?
It’s me, ya boy. Your reigning, defending Gladiator Champion. You see how last week went? You see how I kept the calls even and clean? Very demure. Very mindful.
Did I have to put my hands on RAM after the match? Fuck yeah, I did.
But his punk ass was playing a game of Fuck around and find out for a bit so it was a payment long overdue. I’m forgiven man but I don't forget shit. And I didn’t forget the up jumped shit he said to me.
This the part I usually hype up my boys and Charlotte. And trust, I got nothing but love and admiration for them. But I got a lot to say and not a lot of time.
But I know I should talk about my match and my belt. I know JTV scurrying around in the walls somewhere. And he sore he lost the belt. I get that. But you want another shot motherfucker all ya’ll got to do is say the word and we do this dance again. I’m not scared of shit. I handled that bad medicine Abraxes. I can handle you and your cameraman.
Gladiator belt is my shit now. I hype this beautiful piece of silver and leather. This is my first belt and I’m carrying it for the long haul. This aint a stepping stone for me. This belt means the world to a guy like me. Maybe I ain’t been a solo career guy but I make this shit look good. This belt proves that all that hard work means something. I’m thankful for it. And I’m damned sure gonna defend it. Specifically from some bad fucking joke.
Yeah, that’s you, RAM. A bad fucking joke.
Look, I'm gonna be honest. I'm gonna be real.
Who the fuck do you think you are, huh? You think you the new hotness on scene?
'cause sure, you dream big. You got thoughts a mile high and you wanna be the best. That's good. Ain't nobody should walk through those fuckin' doors doesn't wanna make their mark. But actin' like you there already?
What you done so far little man? Gonna bring up putting Gilmore out again? Ain’t nobody care about that racist fossil since Being Infamous dissolved.
Fuck right the hell off with that bullshit.
You ain't done shit, you ain't proved shit. You ain’t earned shit but a shot. You lost to me for a shot at this belt and you gonna lose again. Those just the facts.
And now that it's you and me, one on one? You gonna get your shit stomped in all fucking over again.
I mean, shit man. What can I say? You got a ten-cent brain. I got the smarts, I got the moves, I got the style, I got the looks.
What do you have besides a vocab that sounds like it front a 1980s movie? You meant to be fuckin younger then me and you sound like an old ass motherfucker.
You an alien? You a motherfucking grey flying shit in the sky fucking alien, RAM? You another bad knock-off Star Trek joke that missed the message it was about leftist utopia from the past? Is that why you act like Gilmore with the fuckin serial number shaved off?
You wanna mouth off at me? You wanna act like you the greatest thing in the division since sliced fucking bread?
Nah.
You wanna be the best? Beat the best, hooker.
2024's the big year for the TDH. And I know you be chugging that Kool-Aid just like gilmore because you just him in a younger body.
I know you gonna have even more to say about how it ain’t right for me and the boys to make jokes about being some employees with melanin in a company full of the whitest folks you know. I know you got some DEI hire jokes. I know you got some more dog whistle racism to act like you just sayin.
You gonna try to act like you all lone wolf is the only way to play the game. How’s that workin out for ya? You winning big matches that way? You makin’ friends and influencing people? Or you just palling around with the same folks Gilmore did because despite all your big talk you want to be him so bad it makes you look stupid?
You really were your own man you wouldn’t be asking Fiona to be your mommy. You wouldn’t have fucked Gilmore’s wife. You wouldn’t be jerking off to his little Brazilian student.
You ain’t your own man.
Fuck you Ram. You deserve this boot to the fucking head more then any other motherfucker here.
I'm out here to fight. I'm out here to earn my goddamn paycheck. I’m out here to represent this belt because it fucking means something. You just looking for a quick shot at being relevant again.
It’s giving Daddy never loved me.
And even that ain’t original, Ram. Every other motherfucker in this building got daddy issues, got tragic backstory and abuse. It sucks but get some real therapy and stop making it everyone else fucking problem. Me? I had a good life. Poor but who wasn’t?
You're noise, RAM.
You're static.
You're nothin'.
I am more than happy to show you what happens when you talk shit.
Just know this, nice and quick: I’m about to come and whoop your ass in sideways. I’m gonna beat you so hard, you're going to think you're back in whatever shitty tv movie your punk ass walked out of.
And then I’m gonna take my belt back to my apartment with my sisters and my boyfriend, I’m gonna have a cold one with my boy Pax and I’m gonna sleep the best sleep.
You are gonna cry and whine some more about how no one likes you.
Know what that sounds like?
Skills issue.”
A TV in the background flickers with a movie or show, its soft sounds creating a peaceful ambiance. The room is dimly lit, with a lamp casting a warm glow, adding to the intimate atmosphere. While each is focused on their own activity, the way they remain physically close—Nate's leg resting comfortably on Jack, their bodies leaning slightly toward each other—speaks to their quiet affection. Even in the silence, their love is palpable, sometimes just being near each other is enough to feel connected.
They’d moved in together since getting back from Japan. Jack was over all the time before anyway so all it was really now was moving the rest of his things in. Justine and Zoe were pretty okay with it. There were light growing pains to be sure but it was getting to the point it felt normal.
Jack lightly squeezed Nate’s leg, “How was the gym?"
“Weren’t you meant to be rubbing my feet, motherfucker?” Nate teased. “I was at the gym all day today. It was good. Felt weird to be alone but shit is what it is.”
“Love you too.” Jack laughed, “You not overdoing it are ya?"
“Nah, I'm making sure he ain't gonna surprise me. I'm in the best shape of my life."
“Don’t get too cocky. He could surprise you.”
“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll handle it. I’ll keep delivering the good shit and we’ll get you some matches.”
“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
Nate leaned over and kissed Jack softly, “I know. I won’t. Trust.”
“What’s FUCKING GOOD?
Nah, for real, what is fucking good IWF?
It’s me, ya boy. Your reigning, defending Gladiator Champion. You see how last week went? You see how I kept the calls even and clean? Very demure. Very mindful.
Did I have to put my hands on RAM after the match? Fuck yeah, I did.
But his punk ass was playing a game of Fuck around and find out for a bit so it was a payment long overdue. I’m forgiven man but I don't forget shit. And I didn’t forget the up jumped shit he said to me.
This the part I usually hype up my boys and Charlotte. And trust, I got nothing but love and admiration for them. But I got a lot to say and not a lot of time.
But I know I should talk about my match and my belt. I know JTV scurrying around in the walls somewhere. And he sore he lost the belt. I get that. But you want another shot motherfucker all ya’ll got to do is say the word and we do this dance again. I’m not scared of shit. I handled that bad medicine Abraxes. I can handle you and your cameraman.
Gladiator belt is my shit now. I hype this beautiful piece of silver and leather. This is my first belt and I’m carrying it for the long haul. This aint a stepping stone for me. This belt means the world to a guy like me. Maybe I ain’t been a solo career guy but I make this shit look good. This belt proves that all that hard work means something. I’m thankful for it. And I’m damned sure gonna defend it. Specifically from some bad fucking joke.
Yeah, that’s you, RAM. A bad fucking joke.
Look, I'm gonna be honest. I'm gonna be real.
Who the fuck do you think you are, huh? You think you the new hotness on scene?
'cause sure, you dream big. You got thoughts a mile high and you wanna be the best. That's good. Ain't nobody should walk through those fuckin' doors doesn't wanna make their mark. But actin' like you there already?
What you done so far little man? Gonna bring up putting Gilmore out again? Ain’t nobody care about that racist fossil since Being Infamous dissolved.
Fuck right the hell off with that bullshit.
You ain't done shit, you ain't proved shit. You ain’t earned shit but a shot. You lost to me for a shot at this belt and you gonna lose again. Those just the facts.
And now that it's you and me, one on one? You gonna get your shit stomped in all fucking over again.
I mean, shit man. What can I say? You got a ten-cent brain. I got the smarts, I got the moves, I got the style, I got the looks.
What do you have besides a vocab that sounds like it front a 1980s movie? You meant to be fuckin younger then me and you sound like an old ass motherfucker.
You an alien? You a motherfucking grey flying shit in the sky fucking alien, RAM? You another bad knock-off Star Trek joke that missed the message it was about leftist utopia from the past? Is that why you act like Gilmore with the fuckin serial number shaved off?
You wanna mouth off at me? You wanna act like you the greatest thing in the division since sliced fucking bread?
Nah.
You wanna be the best? Beat the best, hooker.
2024's the big year for the TDH. And I know you be chugging that Kool-Aid just like gilmore because you just him in a younger body.
I know you gonna have even more to say about how it ain’t right for me and the boys to make jokes about being some employees with melanin in a company full of the whitest folks you know. I know you got some DEI hire jokes. I know you got some more dog whistle racism to act like you just sayin.
You gonna try to act like you all lone wolf is the only way to play the game. How’s that workin out for ya? You winning big matches that way? You makin’ friends and influencing people? Or you just palling around with the same folks Gilmore did because despite all your big talk you want to be him so bad it makes you look stupid?
You really were your own man you wouldn’t be asking Fiona to be your mommy. You wouldn’t have fucked Gilmore’s wife. You wouldn’t be jerking off to his little Brazilian student.
You ain’t your own man.
Fuck you Ram. You deserve this boot to the fucking head more then any other motherfucker here.
I'm out here to fight. I'm out here to earn my goddamn paycheck. I’m out here to represent this belt because it fucking means something. You just looking for a quick shot at being relevant again.
It’s giving Daddy never loved me.
And even that ain’t original, Ram. Every other motherfucker in this building got daddy issues, got tragic backstory and abuse. It sucks but get some real therapy and stop making it everyone else fucking problem. Me? I had a good life. Poor but who wasn’t?
You're noise, RAM.
You're static.
You're nothin'.
I am more than happy to show you what happens when you talk shit.
Just know this, nice and quick: I’m about to come and whoop your ass in sideways. I’m gonna beat you so hard, you're going to think you're back in whatever shitty tv movie your punk ass walked out of.
And then I’m gonna take my belt back to my apartment with my sisters and my boyfriend, I’m gonna have a cold one with my boy Pax and I’m gonna sleep the best sleep.
You are gonna cry and whine some more about how no one likes you.
Know what that sounds like?
Skills issue.”
Well howdy there pardner.