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sunnyrosewritesstuff · 4 years ago

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Day 3 Hobbit Plot Bunnies

Title: Second Chance at a Happy Ending

Summary: Modern Reincarnation AU. Thorin is the CEO of Erebor Industries and Bilbo is a reclusive paralegal. Two people who have no business existing in the same universe as each other, and yet they dream of each other from the time of The Hobbit. So when Gandalf offers Bilbo’s services in regards to a legal problem in Erebor, well it’s a second chance neither of them thought they would be lucky enough to receive.

Possible Trigger Warnings: Thorin struggles with PTSD

POV: Switches between Bilbo and Thorin

It was happening again. The dreams. It wasn’t every night. In fact, sometimes Bilbo would go months, even years, without having one. However, every single one of them was as vivid as the last and seemed to haunt him for the rest of the day.

“You! What were you doing?” The injured dwarf commanded relying on the help of his kin to regain his footing.

“You nearly got yourself killed!” He continued taking a step closer. “Did I not say that you would be a burden? That you would not survive in the wild? That you had no place amongst us.”

At this point he was mere inches away. Close enough that Bilbo could feel the warmth radiating off of him and the glare burning into him. Not that he was able to raise his eyes higher than the dwarf’s booted feet.

“I have never been so wrong in all my life.” The dwarf sighed in relief before enveloping Bilbo in a tight hug.

Bilbo stiffened completely unprepared for the embrace, and he was certain his jaw was dropped in surprise. Being in his arms though...a smile split his face as he hugged back just as tightly amidst the cheers of the remaining company. Too soon, the dwarf stepped away looking him over as if to double check that he was alright.

“I am sorry I doubted you.” He stated, his eyes full of guilt.

Bilbo shook his head, his chest burning under that look.

“No, I would have doubted me too.” He answered. “I’m not a hero or a warrior...or even a burglar.”

Never once did the dwarf’s sky eyes waver. Never once did his soft smile wane. Bilbo would have done anything to always have that smile on him. However, the sounds of eagles screeching seemed to drag both of their gazes away, and when Bilbo looked back the dwarf was staring over the top of his head, his mouth agape. As he walked ahead, Bilbo spun around as well only to see a single mountain rising out of the expanse as if trying to reach out to the rising sun.

“Is that what I think it is?” Bilbo questioned following the dwarf to the edge of the ledge they were standing on.

“Ere.... The Lonely Mountain. The last of the great dwarf kingdoms of Middle Earth.” A familiar voice answered.

“Our home.” The dwarf breathed reverently.

Bilbo stared at him with a smile appreciating his strong profile as his eyes stayed glued on the mountain. Somewhere behind them there was something about a bird.

“We’ll take it as a sign.” The dwarf grinned looking over at Bilbo fondly. “A good omen.”

Bilbo felt his chest puff up in pride as he nodded along. He turned back towards the mountain as if it held all the answers to his problems.

“You’re right. I do believe the worst is behind us.”

Bilbo truly believed it too. And then there was a giant golden eye glaring at him.

Bilbo gasped, his hand reaching for his ring finger, yanking at something that wasn’t there. When he finally had his wits about him again, he fell back against the pillow rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He glanced over at his alarm clock with a groan. It was still too early to get up.

He fiddled with the lamp on his side table before reaching for the notebook in his first drawer. His mother had taught him to keep a dream journal back when he finally decided to confess them to her. The beat-up twenty year old spiral was full of torn and stained pages that contained detailed accounts of the odd encounters with the dwarf king he had taken to nicknaming Oak.

Once he wrote down what he remembered of the dream, he flipped to the back where he had been working towards a sketch of Oak. The problem was, as clear as he could see him while dreaming, the image always tended to flicker away from his consciousness the moment he woke up. All he had so far was a very detailed set of eyes with a rather striking nose. When Bilbo finished eking out every last moment he could remember, he carefully put the notebook back in the drawer and hopped up to make a pot of coffee before starting his day.

Not that long ago, his morning would consist of fighting his way into a suit to get out the door with plenty of time to fight the Tube’s morning commute to one of the top law firms in London. However, the death of his mother three years ago had him re-evaluating his priorities. So he said goodbye to the spacious apartment, goodbye to the hustle and bustle of Zone Two, and retreated north to Lancashire. He would have quit his job as a paralegal completely, but Gandalf Grey, one of five partners at Maiar Law, refused to accept his resignation.

So here Bilbo was, receiving his workload via email, and going outside only for groceries and to mess around in the garden in order to preserve his image from total and complete hermit. Not exactly where he pictured himself at thirty-four that was for certain. He was in the process of seeing what exactly Gandalf had in store for him today knowing he still needed to finish putting together the information on the Proudfoot case only to narrow his eyes at the strange email in his inbox.

As he opened it and scanned the contents, he immediately had his phone in hand and Gandalf’s name highlighted before he even stopped to think of whether it was a good idea or not. Especially considering it was 6:30 in the morning.

“Bilbo! My dear fellow, how are you on this glorious morning?” Gandalf’s voice answered.

It was almost obnoxious how cheery he was.

“Do you at all remember our conversation last week?” He demanded, skipping the pleasantries.

“Of course.” Gandalf returned.

“You came all the way down to my house and said there was a job for me in London if I wanted it, and I told you I was fine where I was.” Bilbo prompted further.

“I dare say my memory hasn’t failed me quite yet.” Gandalf huffed. “I recall the conversation.”

“So then why in the world do I have an email from Erebor Industries confirming my 2pm appointment with someone named Thorin Durin?!”

“Because I thought your argument was a load of poppycock.” Gandalf scoffed. “So I took the liberty of accepting for you.”

If the man was standing before him, Bilbo would throttle him. He swears he would.

“No, absolutely not. I won’t do it.” Bilbo snarked, rubbing a hand down his face.

“Can you give me one good reason why you shouldn’t?” Gandalf pestered.

“How about the fact that I only stayed with the firm because you allowed a work from home clause to my contract? How about the fact that I’m woefully underprepared to meet with one of the richest CEOs in the UK? Oh and if those aren’t good enough, let’s bring up the fact that I’M NOT ACTUALLY A LAWYER!”

There was silence on the line for a long moment. Long enough for the anger to slowly dissipate out of Bilbo.

“Bilbo, what you’re doing right now isn’t living. It’s existing. The world isn’t there in your little cottage amongst your books and garden. It’s out here. Come back to us. Besides, all I need you to do is gather information on what Mr. Durin needs our services for. You’re not to advise him in any way, and he’s well aware of this fact. Just this one small favor, and I’ll leave you to your precious Shire.”

Something ugly and painful welled up in Bilbo’s chest at Gandalf’s words. What did he know anyways? Bilbo was perfectly content here in his mother’s house. Perfectly content.

“I’m sorry Gandalf, but you have the wrong person for the job.” He murmured softly.

“Well…” Gandalf’s disappointment rolled through the phone in waves. “I don’t believe that is true. But if this is what you wish, I won’t press the matter. Take care of yourself, Bilbo Baggins.”

With that, he ended the call, and Bilbo numbly set his phone down on the countertop. Well that was that. He decided to pitter about the kitchen and start on something for breakfast. Probably just eggs and toast. He pretended the silence of the house wasn’t oppressive in the least.

He took a shower, dressed in something sensible, and settled himself into his study again with a nice cuppa. He fished a pair of reading glasses out of the pocket on his jumper, staring at the documents to do with Mr. Proudfoot’s case. However, he couldn’t take in the words. His mind was elsewhere. He felt relatively guilty for his behavior towards Gandalf. Maybe he could just put together some information about Erebor Industries that could help whoever was going to take his place.

He opened up a search tab on his computer and started reading through the google listings. He knew the company for it’s massive steel mill, but he had no idea they had a jewelry chain, and that they made weaponry for the military. That seemed rather ominous until he read further and found out that Thorin Durin was a war vet. Medically discharged eight years prior for a shot in the chest that nearly collapsed his lung. Bilbo winced, rubbing his own chest in sympathy.

His search switched gears at that point, and he clicked on a page dedicated to the relatively young CEO. Forty-two, only surviving family was his sister and two nephews. Seemed to be a relatively private person. He found it odd that there were no scandals surrounding him or the company. It was odd for someone seeking legal counsel outside of his own company. Then, there at the bottom of the page, was a photo of Thorin Durin, and Bilbo swore his heart forgot how to beat.

It was him. It was Oak, the dwarf king. Bilbo would recognize the face from his dreams anywhere. How though? How was this possible? Bilbo’s fingers traced Thorin’s haunted eyes and humorless face so unlike the soft smile from his dream this morning. In that moment, Bilbo wanted to do whatever he could to relieve this man of even a fraction of his worries.

Bilbo jolted. The meeting. He had to be there. No way was he missing out now. He checked his phone. He had time. He ran into his bedroom turning on the iron as he searched the closet for one of his good suits stuffed in the back. Twenty minutes later, he was all but flying to his car. It was going to be a long drive into London. He paused to send Gandalf a quick text before peeling out of the drive like his house was on fire. He had an appointment with destiny he was not about to be late for.

#7 days of plot bunnies #bagginshield #thilbo #birthdayplotbunnies #starterdrabble #our boys didn't get a chance to boink in canon #so here's their chance

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ikesenhell · 6 years ago

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GLITTER & GOLD

GLITTER & GOLD, CHAPTER 1. You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here. NOTES: HOLY FUCK THIS HAS BEEN A LONG TIME COMING. I’d like to thank @velociraptor-detective, @mikablazen, @kerriescreativecorner, and @selenecrawford for hanging out with me, line editing, and helping me find music to vibe with. TIME TO KICK THIS PARTY OFF AGAIN.

They said if you saw the ship, you didn't live to tell the tale. That didn't stop some from claiming they did. You had a matter of hours, the legend said--and then came the accident. Funny; as with all tall tales, no one could really pin truth to it.

No one even knew where the ship came from. It certainly didn't belong out there in the wastes. The radiated oceans were hundreds of miles away. The closest bodies of water were the Great Lakes (still pure, still freezing, still a graveyard--not even the apocalypse could change their reputation). Those certainly hadn’t borne the kind of vessel that skimmed across the sands. Not even the ancient husks of the silos long ago filled with rainwater were large enough to justify a boat.

It always came the same way, they said: silently. First came the sandstorm, blowing wild drifts across the landscape. Then came the sails--bronze from dirt, streaked with the white it once was. No colors flew on that mast. It hovered like a mirage just beyond reach. No crew mustered at its sides. It just hung there, suspended and desolate, like the rest of the wild places they said it sailed now.

And then--gone.

But it was just a legend. No one seemed to see it first hand to know. The skeptics wrote it off as a folklore. No one had seen it because it didn't exist.

No one--no one except for Masamune Date.

And he’d paid for it.

---

The motorcycle snarled over the plains, the engine echoing. Dirt swirled behind the tires--a self-made hurricane of dust. He liked it that way. It felt fitting somehow. The past hung always a little too close to him--the more miles he put on, the more he put behind him, the farther away he could keep it.

His job helped. Society was only just getting its legs after the bombs so long ago. They’d revived the old railways and worked out some of the kinks in the engines, but the damn things still broke. That was where he came in. From the far-flung reaches of the east and the untamed edges of the north and the irradiated south, he brought the most urgent correspondence.

Hell. It paid the bills and kept him moving. That was good enough.

Usually.

Admittedly, he hadn’t wanted to take this job. It brought him right back to the scene of an old crime: his childhood home. How could he come back? Somewhere out there, somewhere on the wilderness, the ship still lingered--

“Fuck,” he muttered, putting his head down for the thousandth time. “Don’t think about it.”

Another bend in the road. The mountains and buttes around him curved and parted like water, the saplings dotting them just budding in the spring, and there--there was Waŋblí Hoȟpi. Home. He almost shivered at the thought.

“It’s just a ghost story,” Masamune reminded himself. “You’re still alive, aren’t you?”

That was small comfort.

Waŋblí Hoȟpi--the Golden Eagle Nest, as the Lakota called it--was a settlement poised on the cross of two main highways and between two silo wells. One of them had never gone off in the Fallout; centuries later, someone had exploited the clean one and filled it with precious rainwater. It was a rare luxury most towns didn't have. Crops grew well in the fertile ground, and the climate was perfect for staving off rust--well, until the bitter winter came. Until then, they were a trade depot.

And under Nobunaga Oda’s control, no doubt it would be more.

Masamune didn't need to even reach the town to see the influence his old friends exercised. The ancient fencing erected so long ago was replaced with something studier (trampling buffalo were always a problem in the old days). A water tower hovered under construction. As he puttered into town, bringing the motorcycle down to a reasonable speed, Masamune even spotted a new brick library.

“Well,” he whistled softly to himself. “I’ll be damned. Mitsunari convinced ‘em.”

The wide streets of Waŋblí Hoȟpi were clean and spacious. Painted patterns decorated the buildings in bright colors. The beautiful blend of modern structures and traditional art soothed him. God. He’d missed this place more than he’d thought, no matter how uneasy it made him. Flowers bloomed wild along the porches and splayed out into the streets, other small bikes parked around. Swinging off his bike, Masamune parked alongside the Town Hall and dusted himself down.

“Masa!”

He grinned and braced himself. Just in time; a pair of familiar arms snapped around him, pulling him back. Masamune bellowed a laugh and struggled free.

“That’s the most excited you’ve been to see me in ages!”

“It’s been ages!” Hideyoshi’s grin was infectious. All too soon, it turned serious. “How’ve you been? Are you eating enough? Are you keeping yourself safe on the road? You haven’t gotten radiation sickness out there, have you--”

“Shut up.” From the shadows of the porch, Ieyasu emerged, his face set into a hard scowl. Masamune almost laughed at that alone. The blonde always looked grumpier when he was trying not to smile. “C’mere and let me use the geiger counter on you.”

“I’m clean.”

“Like hell you are. You sent me a postcard from the outskirts of West Virginia. That’s close enough to the Fallout Epicenter for me to be nervous. Arms up.”

It was two against one. Masamune released a long sigh and swung off his leather duster, draping it over the seat of the bike and lifting his arms. Ieyasu gave him a sweep with a faded yellow device; it crackled, but didn't screech the way he’d heard it do in some places.

“Not perfect,” Ieyasu sniffed, checking the numbers. “So you’re a liar.”

“But pretty good!” Hideyoshi granted a smile anyway. “At least you’ve been watching yourself.”

“I’ve got half my eyes, not half my brain.” Masamune grinned and tossed his coat over his shoulder. “Where’s the rest of the crew?”

“Meeting upstairs. They’re getting ready to have a bit of a, err, business meeting in a few hours.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“You mean obnoxious,” Ieyasu grumbled. “It’s with the other settlement down south. The new one.”

“Oh.” Masamune paused. “I’m outta the loop. You mean the one with the Uesugi, or the one with the Takeda? I thought the Takeda one got wiped out in a raid?”

“It did. Apparently enough people survived from Kai that they migrated over to Echigo. As for them, they’re holding strong still.”

Masamune didn't say anything to that. Their township was too far out into the mountains for his liking. Instead he stretched out his legs. “Okay, what do they want?”

“The usual shit: railroad business, trade. They’ve got better access to fresh water, though.” Hideyoshi sighed and rubbed his face. “But you know how I feel about this mess. Anyway, it’s been forever. What brings you back? Come on in, take a load off!”

“Oh. You know.” Together, the three of them pushed open the door into the town hall, the familiar scent of pine filling his nostrils. Something about the smell never got old. He took a second and inhaled deeply, letting it settle in his chest like a comforting weight. “The old ‘Pony Express’.”

Ieyasu stared at him. “You’re not seriously calling it that.”

“I mean, I’m not, but Mitsunari said it was a good historic reference.”

“It’s not a great brand name.”

“So, a package?” Hideyoshi rubbed his hands. “Who from? We haven’t gotten any mail that didn't come off the train for a while.”

Masamune patted himself down, producing the letter. “Mitsuhide, apparently. Ask him what he’s doing that merits express delivery.”

The other two just shook their heads.

“I don’t want to know,” Hideyoshi groaned.

“Me either,” Ieyasu huffed. “He’s probably upstairs.”

“Great! Then I’ll just hop on in.”

“Wh--Masamune, no--”

“Masamune, yes!” Laughing, he sprinted through the hallways, dancing just beyond Hideyoshi’s chastising grasp. Up the stairs he bounded, taking them two at a time, the warm sunlight streaming in the windows warming his sore muscles. The past be damned: he’d missed this. He’d missed his friends and the gentle smell of the plains. He’d missed the sound of Hideyoshi scolding him and Ieyasu’s long, ragged sigh. And--as he burst into the office of the mayor and flung himself into a chair--he collapsed in a fit of laughter as he realized how much he’d missed everyone else.

“Well, well,” Nobunaga announced, unflappable as ever. “Look who the cat dragged in.”

“Not what I was expecting, if I’m quite honest,” Mitsuhide chuckled. “But I suppose it will do.”

“Masamune!” Mitsunari clutched his chest. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

Hideyoshi dashed into the doorway a beat too late, a thoroughly disappointed looking Ieyasu following a half second later. Masamune draped himself over the armchair and grinned cheekily at them.

“Delivery.” And he brandished the letter. “For one ‘Akechi’.”

“For me?” Mitsuhide smoothed down his jeans with a snakey smile. “You shouldn’t have. I daresay you’ve come a long way with that.”

“Damn straight. Was it your bright idea to make sure and request me, specifically?”

“My. You’ve caught on to my ruse.”

“Wasn’t that subtle. You just missed me.”

Nobunaga settled back down into his chair. The desk before him was littered with a thousand stacks of paper, each as vital to Waŋblí Hoȟpi’s success as the last. “I did wonder how you were going to lure. Well done.”

Out of all the things he expected, Masamune didn't anticipate Mitsuhide to take the letter--and promptly drop it in the trash. “It was too easy.”

“Wait.” He frowned. “Wait! You didn't even--you shipped yourself a letter just to get me back here?”

“Is that so strange?” Nobunaga fished through his desk and poured out a handful of sugar candies, ignoring Hideyoshi’s frustrated groan. “You make yourself scarce otherwise.”

“You know why.”

“Indeed we do.” Mitsuhide brushed down his stark white sleeves. How the man kept his button up and vest so pristine in all the dust, Masamune had no clue. “We’ll have to beg your forgiveness after this.”

That didn't sound promising. Narrowing his eye, Masamune rapped against the armchair. “Why, exactly?”

“We’ve had a rash of disappearances.” Nobunaga brushed aside a number of papers. “They’re all in the same proximity. We’ve reason to believe it has something to do with--”

No.

Masamune didn't even wait for confirmation. He jumped to his feet and immediately charged for the door. Hideyoshi slammed it shut and wrestled his arms into place.

“Let go of me--!”

“No! At least just listen--”

“You don’t--you don’t get it--I’m not doing this again--!”

“Masamune--!”

The two of them toppled over, tangled together on the floor. Mitsunari squeaked in surprise and backed up as they tussled. Mitsuhide just laughed.

“It’s not fucking funny,” Ieyasu snapped. “Hideyoshi, stop. Masamune, will you relax for a second? They’ve got a good reason.”

Masamune wrenched himself free of the headlock he’d been put in. “No fucking way. There’s no good reason you got.”

“Oh, but we do.” Mitsuhide’s yellow eyes glittered in the sunlight. “The ghost ship appears before each disappearance. Your old friend is the latest to spy it. If the pattern holds, she’ll be gone before the week is out.”

Finally he stilled, his heart thumping loud in his chest. “Are you fucking with me?”

“Not in the least.”

Silence. Masamune watched motes of dust flutter in the light, each of them a small world all its own. Maybe this was a bad dream. That was it--this was a bad dream, and if he just focused hard enough--

“Earth to Masamune.” Ieyasu snapped his fingers for attention. “Come back.”

He swallowed, his throat dry. “Are you sure she saw it?”

Hideyoshi looked ashamed. “We wouldn’t have called you otherwise. We all know you had a thing for her--”

“Yeah.” Masamune choked. “Yeah. Where is she now? Anyone keeping an eye on her?”

“Down at the general store, same as always. She runs it now, since her old man passed.”

He hopped onto his feet. “I’m going down there. You need someone to put their eyes--eye--on her. Otherwise--”

No one said a word. They didn't have to. Even Ieyasu averted his gaze from Masamune’s bad eye, as if the whole chasm of the space around them echoed in that one spot. He realized he was clutching his eyepatch; immediately he snapped his hand away.

“She needs eyes on her,” he repeated. “Or shit can happen.”

“Understood.” Nobunaga replied calmly. “But we need to get to the bottom of this. I don’t believe in the supernatural. Whatever it is that causes these disappearances, we must track it down.”

“Gotcha.” Masamune shrugged his duster back on. “Yeah. Well, I guess I’m back in the gang.”

---

The general store smelled like bergamot and old memories. Overhead, the horn bells clanked together, the hollow sound a familiar backdrop against the soft creak of wood. The geometric murals on the beams and the framed beadwork glowed with color. Dense shelves stocked with essentials lined the small building: flour, sugar, yeast, firewood… Masamune hesitated in the doorway and just inhaled it all.

Once upon a time--and it felt like a lifetime ago--the six of them would lounge in the cramped spaces of the general store and sip on lemonade and tea her father made them. More than once he’d clambered on top of the shelving and listened to her hiss protests (he’d only broken one), swinging down only once he’d gotten good and tired of the heat. Now it all came back to him in a gentle tide, like the soft current of the southern rivers at his feet, like the way he imagined the ocean did, were it not so polluted.

“Hello?”

He didn't answer at first. Her voice was the same as ever, and that warmed him all the way through. How did he even confront her? It had been so long, so, so long since they’d last seen each other. Thinking fast, Masamune dipped behind a shelf and rattled a tin of expensive coffee to attract her attention.

“Mitsuhide? If that’s you, it isn’t funny. You can’t scare me again.”

Masamune nearly laughed. Somehow he stifled himself. After a prolonged silence she got tired of waiting, her footsteps creaking over the worn boards.

“If you jump out at me, I will punch you in the face. You’ve been warned.”

He chanced it and did anyway. She shrieked and punched him square in the chest; he staggered backwards and fell, too winded to laugh properly and too entertained to do anything else.

“Fucking hell! You weren’t kidding!”

“Masamune?” She appeared over him like a vision, all dark eyes and dark hair. When had she gotten this beautiful? Of course, she always had been--he remembered that all too well--but somewhere in his absence she’d grown into something almost beyond his heart. “Masa, is that you?”

“That wasn’t my face, you know,” he wheezed. “My face is up here. So you missed a little.”

“Cut it out. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Mitsuhide is taller than me. You wouldn’t have gotten his face, either.”

“You’re right. That was, what, Ieyasu height?”

Masamune choked another laugh, bracing his stomach. “God, you didn't hold back.”

“No, I didn't!” But she bent over anyway, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Her hair draped thick and lovely around her shoulders, the sweet scent of ylang-ylang and lavender surrounding her, and without thinking he pulled her tight to him. “I missed you, you big lunk.”

“Of course you did,” he chuckled, rocking her. “Who wouldn’t?”

“Oh! Listen to the ego on you! Did that bike make it swell? I’ve got ice for that!”

“Shit, if I wanted ice, I’d just go drive up to the mountains. You can keep it. That’s expensive stuff to use on me.”

At last she released him. Together they climbed to their feet and picked their way through the aisles. He watched her hands as she pushed product back, practiced fingers straightening labels with casual glances. “I thought you weren’t ever coming back.”

Masamune shrugged. “Mitsuhide had other plans, I guess.”

She cast him a look. “He certainly has a way of making them, doesn’t he?”

“Don’t he, though.”

Her gaze flitted over his bad eye. Right. She’d barely seen him without it. He pressed a hand to the eyepatch and grinned despite himself. “Does it work for me?”

“Does--are you seriously referring to that like it’s a fucking accessory?”

Masamune roared. “Gotta live with it somehow! Does it make me look dashing? C’mon. Do you want me to say like, ‘arr’ or something? I could be a pirate!”

She snapped a towel at him. “We’re not near the coast, and you can’t sail.”

“I could learn! Or I’ll just be a sand pirate--”

“Masa,” she chided. “You came here cause they told you I saw it, didn't they? The ship.”

He paused. “Yeah. Yeah, they did.”

Silence fell between them. He watched her pick her way behind the counter, wiping a hand over the spotless top. What was there to say? A sharp pang of melancholy surged through his stomach as he watched her expression shutter and fold. It had been so many years--so many without her that he suddenly felt the absence float between them.

“Look.” Masamune cleared his throat. “It isn’t gonna take you. That’s just a story.”

She cast him a dubious glance. “It took your father.”

What could he say to that? He ran his thumb over a rough patch of countertop and tried to measure out his words again. “He took him.”

“Are--” Her words caught in her throat. For a second, he was afraid she would ask--but then she didn't. “I guess you’re still here.”

“Damn right.” He shot her a wink, doffing an imaginary hat and bowing before her. “And you’re gonna be here, too. Ain’t nothing gonna take you, not on my watch.”

“Oh? What do you plan on doing, sleeping in my bed to make sure?”

“Sexy. Is that an invitation?”

She flung the towel at him. He caught it with a laugh, shaking it back. “So violent! First you punch me, now you throw things--”

“I warned you with the punch! Do you want some lemonade or something? I’ve got some tea brewing…”

“Tea works, thanks.”

Brushing aside the blanket that covered the doorway, she vanished into the back. For a split second, Masamune was afraid she wouldn’t come back out--that somehow, some way, the ship would appear outside of the general store and ghost her away from him. He cast a wary glance out the window and over the plains, the thick prairie grass bending and swaying in the wind, the dirt swirling like a dancing dervish. All that comforted him was the sweet scent of bergamot and the gentle clink of glasses in the back.

“Honey?” She called out.

“Sure. Not too much, I know it’s expensive.”

Quiet again. Masamune strained for the faint sounds of spoons and pouring water. It was better than the bad memories of his father threatening to break through, better than the archaic smell of gunpowder pervading everything, better than losing himself into the past and dissociating into his worst nightmare again--

She emerged and he almost breathed a sigh of relief.

“Here.” She passed over the cup with a smile. “It’s a little hot.”

“That’s alright.” He wrapped his fingers tight around it and let the scald bring him back to earth. “I like it hot sometimes.”

#Ikesen #ikemen sengoku #glitter & gold #G&G #Ikesen Masamune #Masamune Date #post-apocalyptic #my writing #mystery #lakota mc

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raendown · 6 years ago

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@letliv3 You will take it and you will like it because this is your fault.

Pairing: MadaraKakashi Word count: 3745 Summary: In which Obito helped found the village, Madara was a member of Team Minato, and Kakashi gets lost down a few different paths in his life.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI in the blog header!

Building Our Own

Kakashi was pretty sure he didn’t like Madara. Pretty sure. There were times when it was really difficult to stay inside his shell and hate the world because watching Madara – barely taller than himself yet filled with enough attitude for the whole village – face off against the taller, brighter, unsuspecting Minato-sensei was always the highlight of his week. Knowing the two of them had so much in common did not mean Kakashi wanted to make friends with the other boy. He didn’t need friends to become the greatest ninja this world had ever seen and restore his family’s honor.

Anyway that Gai idiot followed him around too much already. His non-existent friend quota had been filled, thank you very much.

It was still kind of hard to ignore Madara. The boy refused to not be seen but he wasn’t obnoxious about it. There was just something magnetic about his competence even at such a young age, the confidence in every move he made, even the spiky stupid mess of his hair. Most of the Uchiha that Kakashi met had beautiful smooth hair but Madara seemed to have skipped that gene; his hair stuck straight out from his head in stiff spikes reminiscent of Kakashi’s own locks. Yet another thing they had in common and could have commiserated about together – if he had time for stupid things like friendship. Which he did not.

Much to their sensei’s despair, Madara didn’t seem all that upset that one of his teammates refused to bond with him. The majority of his concentration went to edging a few words about his precious baby brother in to every single conversation ever. None of them had ever met Izuna but after less than a month of being a team they all could have probably picked him out of a crowd and recited at least ten different points of trivia about him off the tops of their heads.

And that right there was the one thing that truly set them apart, the one bit that stopped Kakashi from allowing himself to at least like the boy, even if only from afar. Where Kakashi had lost everyone he ever loved Madara still had someone, even if it was just a useless little brother. He still had someone to care about, someone precious, and besides that he had a clan that treated him like absolute royalty. Apparently Madara was a direct descendant of the great Uchiha Obito, founder of their village and betrayer of the Shodaime Hokage. Kakashi didn’t really see why he got to be venerated for being related to a traitor when others were shunned for the same thing but the one time he had tried to question it Minato-sensei had hushed him and Kakashi felt his heart grow a little bit smaller.

So Kakashi stayed small and quiet and spent the hours he wasn’t training with his team training in private instead. He would grow bigger, stronger, and someday he would be the one to show Madara his back. He would be the one that others watched from afar.

He would restore the honor his father had lost. Only then would his life be worth something.

“Your father’s honor is not your own.”

Madara’s words left him reeling, adrift and unsteady where he had always felt solid logic underneath his feet. Kakashi waited for the world to stop spinning before baring his teeth behind the mask that hid them.

“What would you know about it?” he snarled. Madara scoffed.

“I’m descended from the biggest traitor this village has ever seen but does my clan care about that? No. They care that I inherited his strength. Haven’t you ever heard the phrase ‘innocent until proven guilty’ before?”

“At least you have a clan! Don’t talk like you know me!”

“Of course I know you, dumb ass.” Everything Madara said was always said with confidence, as though it was an absolute immutable truth. It made refuting him very difficult sometimes because the way he spoke made Kakashi want to believe.

He resisted because clearly no one else should have a say in his situation not when they weren’t the ones living it.

“I will restore my father’s honor!” he began. He got no farther in to his rant before Madara rolled his eyes and interrupted.

“There’s nothing to restore, he’s dead. We build our own honor. And you have plenty of that even if you’re an asshole. Take the stick out of your ass and wake up. You’re Kakashi, not Sakumo. You can’t fix his mistake any more than I can. He didn’t even make one!”

“He – what?”

Kakashi sat, stunned, and listened to the entire fifteen minutes of Madara’s rant about how true dishonor was in abandoning your comrades and how the entire concept of their village itself had been founded on the desire to protect one’s comrades. Apparently the history books left out quite a bit of information about Uchiha Obito’s life before he abandoned Konoha; Kakashi never knew it was him that had named their fledgling settlement or him that had come up with the idea in the first place as a way to protect his own precious ones.

All through the boy’s impassioned speech he remained silent, soaking in every word like a message from on high, and when Madara finally stopped to pant angrily, kicking at a nearby tree stump, he cleared his throat with more awkwardness than should have fit in to his twelve year old body.

“We should find Rin,” he murmured. It was the best he could do for an apology. Madara narrowed his eyes, probably trying to determine whether or not he meant that, then nodded decisively.

“Good to see you got your head out of your ass. Damn right we go find her. No more of this ‘the mission is more important�� bullshit, alright?”

“Yeah…”

“So what are we waiting for? Aren’t you supposed to be mission leader? Lead on, jōnin-taichou!”

Amazed that his teammate still trusted him to do so when he had only just a few minutes ago suggested abandoning Rin to her fate, Kakashi nodded and closed his eyes to think. “My summons will be able to follow her trail more easily than we can.”

Kannabi Bridge went on to become the mission famous as a long-awaited turning point in the war, the incident that finally gave them a clear advantage to end things in Konoha’s favor. For the ones who carried it out, however, it was memorable for a different reason. The mission to Kannabi Bridge was the day they finally – finally – became a true unit, the day Madara brushed that chip off of Kakashi’s shoulder and offered the hand of friendship instead.

It also became the day Kakashi would look back on and realize he was completely and utterly screwed.

Of course he would fall in love with his best friend. Of fucking course.

ANBU suited him a little bit too well but that was fine. Everything was fine as long as he had Madara there with him, eagle mask covering his face and endless black hair spilling around it like a cloud of death. He wondered why they bothered with the masks sometimes. Both of them were entirely too identifiable by their hair alone so really all the masks did was add a bit of extra dramatic flair.

Shaking his head, Kakashi forced his attention back to the task at hand, pushing just a little more speed out of his tired legs. The two of them had run countless missions together since becoming true comrades, both in the name of Team Minato and as the perfectly matched pair they were now in ANBU, but never had they run a mission this important before. It was only the second time Rin had been captured and already it was starting to feel like a pattern. He wondered which idiot had been the one to decide this time that she was the weak link in their band of comrades. Rin was many things but she was not weak.

As evidenced by the carnage that came in to view when they finally found her. More than half of the bodies that lay dead around her were decorated with perfectly normal wounds, their flesh opened by blades and the extra clean sort of cut that could only come from her weaponized medical jutsu. The rest had been mauled as though by a hungry beast – and a beast she looked, right then.

Her pretty brown eyes glowing red and her entire body bubbling with a sickly green cloak of pure poisonous chakra, it was hard to tell whether or not she recognized them at first. A low growl rumbled across the space between them and the two young men shared a look before hastily removing their masks.

“It’s fine now,” Madara attempted a soothing voice. “They’re dead.”

“Don’t,” she warning when he tried to take a step towards her.

“It’s just me, it’s just Madara.”

“Shut up! I know who you are, dummy!” The growl in her words cracked and hiked to a whine that Kakashi recognized all too well. He’d raised eight dogs on his own; he knew what a wounded animal sounded like. “I can’t go back with you. Not like this.”

Unfortunately neither of them had been born with an ounce of tact. Kakashi snorted. “Can and will. Haven’t you heard the rumors, Rin-chan? We’ve had a beast living with us the whole time and I’ve never seen Kushina-nee bite anyone’s head off yet. Well, not literally. She’s scary but she’s not out for blood no matter what the monster trapped inside her wants. She can help you.”

It was a terrible thing to see in a friend, that broken light of hope too small to be believed in. Kakashi inched forward, saddened when she flinched away but determined to reach her, and when her bubbling chakra burned his skin he refused to show any sign of pain.

“Come home. If we can survive Madara for this long then we can survive you. He’s more of an animal than anyone.”

His friend’s offended screech broke the tension and Rin’s startled laugh was a balm on all their souls, just enough of a positive emotion to push the beast in her belly down. The effort left her exhausted but Kakashi caught her and Madara took point to protect them both as they turned for home, wearing a pout still but it was a very cute pout so Kakashi only teased him a little bit. It was good to be together.

“That’s a big fox.”

“Your observations are as astute as ever,” Madara’s voice drawled from behind his shoulder.

“We have to fight that big fox? He’s just a big scary dog. I don’t wanna hit a dog, Dara-chan!”

“Stop calling me that!”

Kakashi smiled briefly to see Madara stomp one foot. Fifteen years old and he still hadn’t grown out of the habit. Then he turned his eyes back to the carnage in front of them when Rin touched down at his other side.

“Isobu says that Kurama isn’t acting like himself,” she reported. “Something must be controlling him.”

“Right. Let’s found out who, shall we?” Kakashi narrowed his eyes, all traces of amusement gone from their little trio of death as they all pushed off the Hokage monument they had been perched on to make their assessment. Team Minato, as they still sometimes thought of themselves, were not the first line of defense in any fight. They were the ones who ended the fight.

When they found the man controlling the Kyuubi he was much older than they might have guessed – ancient, in fact. The fact that he could still move the way he did seemed to be due to the fact that one entire half of his body had been reconstructed with an unidentified white substance that reformed and reattached itself when injured, healing faster than they could hurt him. And that wasn’t even the part that made the fight difficult. No, that was the fully formed Sharingan in his one good eye, an abomination that enraged Madara.

It took all three of them to bring him down, one unit moving perfectly in sync. It took Isobu and Susano’o and eight dog summons. It took everything they had but in the end Uchiha Obito lay ancient and exposed at their feet, screaming his impotent rage and crying out revenge against a man who had never truly wronged him.

“Senju Hashirama is dead,” Kakashi muttered in exhaustion, kicking away a severed limb still trying to crawl back to its host. “You should be too. Hold still and let me fix that.”

“He abandoned me! He will pay! The world will pay! I will have what I am owed! The perfect world, don’t you see? We could all live in the perfect world!”

“Something tells me your perfect world would not be like mine.” With his blade raised Kakashi shook his head in pity. “The world owes you nothing. Those who go back on their word like he did are trash, that’s true. But those who abandon their comrades? People like you who break bonds, you’re nothing but scum. Goodnight, Uchiha Obito, I hope you find rest.”

“Poetic,” Madara noted, watching as Kakashi impassively drew a blade through their defeated enemy’s throat.

“Maa, I didn’t mean to be.”

Rin groaned and sat down on the bloody grass. Then she fell over backwards with a sigh of relief. “Well that wasn’t what I wanted to do with my Tuesday,” she said.

“Any chance one of you can sense how Minato-sensei is doing with the Kyuubi? I’m fresh out of chakra.” Very gently, slowly so as not to jostle his sore body, Kakashi lowered himself down to join Rin. Madara snorted at them both.

“Your reserves are pathetic,” he pointed out. “The Kyuubi’s chakra has been split but I can still feel Kushina-nee. It would seem sensei was able to seal the beast in to two places at once. Very interesting.”

Both of the two on the ground made soft noises of curious agreement but investigating would have to wait. Just knowing their precious ones were alive was enough for now. Everything else could be left until after they had recovered the feeling in all of their limbs, possibly until after they had slept for a week. They had gone head to head with a legend today, after all. That definitely deserved a nap.

Madara wandered over to perch next to Kakashi, brushing something out of his hair without seeming to realize he was doing so. As much as he didn’t seem to want to admit it he was just as tired as the other two. Kakashi held his breath and allowed gloved fingers to trace the shape of his jaw.

“You took a lot of stupid chances today,” his friend murmured. Kakashi nodded.

“So did you.”

“Hn. Dumb ass.” His piece spoken, Madara’s eyes rolled back in his head and his body gave in to the exhaustion he’d been trying not to show. Unfortunately when he passed out he flopped down across the other two, who both grunted in surprise and then wriggled in dismay to find themselves trapped, lacking the energy to roll the idiot off of them.

Rin was the first to give up, flopping back down to the grass with a sigh. “You know for a second there I thought he was going to lean down and kiss you.”

Then she laughed as best she could at the redness of Kakashi’s face and the disconnected syllables gurgling out from behind his mask.

Twenty years old was a terrible age all of his friends were at least one year older. Twenty years old meant that all of his friends could drink while they oversaw the chūnin exams here in Suna but all he could do was sip soda and watch. What was the point of such a high drinking age anyway? And who had ever heard of a shinobi being denied a drink? He’s been getting served back home since he reached jōnin at the age of twelve.

Actually that probably wasn’t a high point and Minato-sensei should probably make sure that practice wasn’t still being followed. But his point still stood!

Kakashi felt cheated when his decision to go out with his friends in the hopes of watching them all make fools of themselves ended with sitting in the corner of a dusty Suna club watching over the ladies’ purses while Madara snoozed next to him. He’d really been hoping Madara would get drunk and do something stupid. Or maybe that he would get absolutely blackout drunk and do something completely out of the blue like, say, decide to make out with the comrade who’d been silently in love with him for almost a decade now.

Life was so unfair.

Jerking his elbow in to the other man’s side at least got him the amusing reaction of bleary eyes jerking open and an angry expression. He muttered something too but it was impossible to hear of the thumping music so Kakashi shrugged and shook his head, completely unrepentant. Madara scowled deeper and leaned over to put his lips right next to Kakashi’s ear.

“I said, you’re a dick. I was trying to sleep until we can get the hell out of here.”

Kakashi pushed away the urge to shiver and shouted over the music. “So let’s get out of here.”

Rin and Anko both tried to wheedle them in to staying when Kakashi wound his way through the dance floor to give them back their purses but he skipped free of their reaching hands and hustled back to Madara’s side. Stumbling outside was heaven on his ears, stepping passed the barrier of excessive noise and in to the blessed silence of the desert at night. Both of them groaned with relief and rubbed at their aching heads as they hurried away, ignoring the judging eyes of the club’s bouncers, eager to get back to their hotel rooms and just relax. Neither of them were really the sort to enjoy this stuff anyway. A nice homey bar would have been more their style but it had been Rin who invited them out so it had been her choice of venue.

Madara’s steps were surprisingly steady for someone who had pounded back enough alcohol to fall asleep in that blaring chaos. He wove side to side a bit whenever something interesting caught his eye but for the most part he didn’t seem too dizzy and Kakashi felt cheated all over again that he wasn’t needed to heroically offer his shoulder as support.

“Where are we?” The sudden question made him furrow his brows.

“Uh…Suna?”

“No! I mean I don’t recognize this street.”

Stopping to look around, Kakashi bit his lip. “Huh. You’re right. I think we’re lost.”

“That’s fine. As long as I’m lost with you.” Madara shrugged and continued on while Kakashi’s feet stumbled to a halt, one hand pressed against his chest to sooth his suddenly racing heart.

He glared as best he could and hoped the darkness covered the blush on his face.

“You can’t just…say stuff like that.”

“Oh. Shit. You’re right.” Confusingly, Madara looked embarrassed as well to realize what he’d said, clapping a hand over his mouth and sending a guilty look out the corner of his eyes.

“Wait. I know I’m right but why do you think I’m right?” Kakashi asked.

“Cause I don’t want you to know that I like you!”

“Maa, of course you like me, we’re best friends…”

Now frustrated that he wasn’t being understood, Madara stomped his foot and turned to shake a finger under Kakashi’s nose. “No! I mean like like you! Love like you! Don’t misunderstand me! I swear sometimes you do it on purpose because you know it annoys me and–”

His friend continued to rant but most of it washed over Kakashi, who had of course heard this lecture a hundred times and more. Well, except for the part where Madara was apparently in love with him, that bit was new. And mind-blowing. Life-changing, really. It took a while to sink in that Madara didn’t seem to realize what he had just confessed, either because he was too drunk or because nothing else ever mattered when he’d found something to be irritated by.

Why Kakashi found that cute was a mystery.

He did finally shut up when Kakashi kissed him, though. Actually, to be fair, he did make a few aborted attempts at speaking before finally giving in and kissing back, one hand fisting in the front of Kakashi’s vest to keep him in place. When they slowly pulled apart he licked his lips and fell immediately back in to a scowl.

“The mask, you idiot,” was all he said. Kakashi scrambled to pull it down out of the way.

“You want–?”

Madara’s answer was another kiss. And it turned out he was right, it was definitely better with the mask out of the way.

Someday, when he had eventually recovered his scrambled wits and picked himself up from the puddle of goo he could feel his body melting in to, he would need to say thank you. Not for the kiss, although the kiss was good enough on its own to warrant starting a diary just to describe it and Kakashi very much hoped they could do this again. Preferably every day from now on. But eventually he would need to impress upon Madara how grateful he was to have the other man in his life, how important it was that Madara had never abandoned him even when he was a young child with a terrible weight on his shoulders that he should never have been carrying in the first place.

Eventually he would need to say that he owed everything he was as a person to Madara.

But not now. Right now he pressed forward slowly to bury his fingers in long thick hair and cling to the one person he had been striving for since long before he had ever acknowledged it.

My honor is my own, he thought as they stumbled against the front of a nearby shop, his thoughts going back to a moment between them half a lifetime ago. And I owe my honor to you, who showed me how to believe in it. How to believe in us.

#rae writes #madakaka #madara #kakashi #fanfiction

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omgnsfwisnsfw-blog · 6 years ago

Text

The Beginning Is The End Is The Beginning: Second Chapter Prologue

It was nighttime, and the waning moon was, for some reason, vividly bright. Mike McGuire was laying in the middle of the ring in their backyard, staring up through the branches. The leaves had yet to sprout, but the buds were set to start opening up anytime. Same could be said for the young plants newly set in the soil near the back porch- a small plot of land freshly tilled up, planted with varying marigolds, daffodils, impatiens, and centered in it all, a rosebush received for Valentine’s. It was nice and neat, every plant perfectly arranged. The same could not be said for the garage.

--------------

It had all began not even a few days ago. A few days ago after losing their beloved tag team championship belts at the biggest show of the year. They had spoken little. They showered, dressed, went to the hotel, slept, got on the plane the next morning. And somewhere over the ocean, John had turned to Mike, and in a rare initiation of conversation…

“Mike.”

John was looking out the window, like he did with every trip, and there was a quiet mesmerization about it. Mike startled a bit. He didn’t usually initiate conversation. Sometimes early on they wouldn’t speak for hours, and when Mike asked why he wasn’t talking to them he simply replied ‘you didn’t say anything.’ Him breaking his ‘speak when spoken to’ habit usually indicated he had something important on his mind, so they’d shifted and given him their full attention. “Yeah, bud?”

“I turned 42 two weeks ago.”

He didn’t sound overtly happy about it. John’s emotional inflection was a subtle, nuanced thing, but by now Mike had become very attuned to picking it out. Still, they offered him a wavery little smile, probably in an attempt to cheer the both of them up. “You shoulda told me that. Woulda made you a cake.”

John shrugged.

“Better stuff to celebrate.”

His hand touched the window briefly.

“Like us.”

He turned to Mike in his chair and spoke low.

“But what I mean is that … maybe I can continue to do this. Maybe my body holds up a little longer. But I’ve come to realization that I don’t want to.” They sat up bolt upright, their head tilting to the side. For a moment they resembled an Irish Setter who just heard a far-off dog whistle and was trying to process what in the world that sound was. “You wanna stop? Like… this minute?” It wasn’t accusatory- more like confirming that the sounds coming out of his mouth were forming words that they were understanding the meaning of.

“Yes.” “You sure?” “Yes.” They sat back in their seat, expression a little dazed, as if showing mild signs of shock. Then they closed their eyes, inhaled, exhaled. Managed a smile, wobbly for a different reason than their previous one, and reached over, giving his wrist a squeeze. “...okay.”

The declaration had caught Mike completely off guard. In a way, they thought, they should’ve seen it coming at some point- he’d made some remarks about the ugliness of the business, beginning to think past it. But they hadn’t thought it would happen so suddenly. It was like driving at 60 MPH and then suddenly slamming on the brakes, the sudden jettisoning into the seatbelt knocking out all your breath and leaving your insides hurting. They went home. He planted his garden, seeming serene and perfectly content. Mike gave Alundra a once-over- they’d had her painted in their absence, the vivid yellow and red flame paintjob traded for an emerald green with orange flame one. The new vanity plates installed- NSFW 1. Something stabbed inside them. The next day. Grocery shopping. Mike going over their particulars. So much had been provided for them that had to be taken into account now. Health insurance- the extended coverage wouldn’t last forever, and though they could easily afford it, plans for two people in their shape wasn’t going to come easily. Something pricked at their eyes. Mike kept staring at their phone. It would ring eventually, they just knew it, a gruff voice on the other end demanding what in the blue hell they thought they were doing, is this what I wasted my time on you for, pulling yourself out of obscurity and stumbling into the perfect partner just to vanish like a fart in the wind? They weren’t sure the old man would say that. But what would they think, when they heard? How would they explain ‘he wanted out and I couldn’t deny him that and I can’t keep going in good fucking conscience without him’? And so on till today. This evening. Just now. Mike found themselves in the garage. They looked around. A small box was on the table- a prototype of a new piece of merch. A snowglobe. Little figurines of them under a dome of glass filled with water. They held their title belts. Shake it, orange and green confetti glitter swirled around. Pieces of fanmail, notes on their Twitter, asked where they’d gone. Some wished them well. Some worried that they were hurt or worse. Some said they felt betrayed. Why couldn’t you have even said goodbye? We believed in you. Quitters. Mike’s grip tightened on the snowglobe, their teeth gritting together hard. ‘It got taken from me and I wasn’t ready, and it fuckin’ sucks. So bad.’ Their own words from a year past slam into their brain and with a roar, they throw the snowglobe down, sending a shatter of broken glass and glitter water splatting over the concrete floor. A t-shirt snatched from a box, the phoenix that’d been emblazoned on their viking flags torn in two with an obnoxious ripping sound, the rest of the box kicked over. Their head whipped around, glaring viciously at the cardboard face of David Scott. Screeching, all but consumed by their fury, they dashed forward, grabbing him by the top of his large, scowling head and tearing the cutout apart. They couldn’t believe their own anger. They felt robbed, cheated, resentful. And all those feelings made Mike feel even worse, because they didn’t want to direct them at John. They couldn’t have kept going if he hadn’t wanted to. They didn’t want to be one more person who knew his desires and chose to ignore them. Mike’s train of thought slowly cooled their anger. All that was left was a giant mess of broken glass, torn t-shirts, dented boxes, ripped up cardboard. Something sick heaved in their chest and they left the garage, numbly trekking through the backyard until they found themselves in the ring.

-------------- So there they were. Maybe they could salvage something. Maybe the fans they hadn’t completely alienated would still want them, for old time’s sake. If they got back into auto repair maybe they could even sell them there as a bonus. Nostalgia was always a hot ticket, and somebody in the future was bound to remember that one tag team that got super hot and then vanished without a trace out of nowhere. Raising an arm, they laid it over the bridge of their nose, shielding their closed eyes from the moonlight as they tried not to sob. Don’t be fuckin’ stupid.

John stood in the doorway of garage backdoor. Behind him was the aftermath of the disturbance that woke him. He had noticed immediately that Mike was gone. He had sat up from the bed and waiting until the noises subside. Quietly, he went to the garage and looked upon what had happened. His emotions ticked up slightly to disappointment that the quiet last few days had been a simmering pot and it had just spilled over. Soft footsteps went across the yard to the source. He stood just outside the ring, keeping his distance for the moment. He cut through the ambience of the night.

“I know you’re angry at me.” There was a long pause. The soft, occasional chirp of an early cricket or two. “‘M not mad at you. I feel shitty that I’m mad at all. S’ fuckin… complicated.” They didn’t move, their speech muted. If their anger was a fire, right now they were the embers that some knowledgeable Eagle Scout had doused with water and stirred up with a stick. Only You Can Prevent Wildfires. “...i didn’t want to not give you this. I feel like I’ve let people down. Myself a little. And then I get mad at myself cuz the alternative is what? Making you run yourself down when you don't want to anymore just to feed my own fuckin’ dream that I should’a grown out of? It… I…” Sniff. “...it just happened so fuckin’ quick. Like slammin’ a book shut ‘fore you read the end.”

John circled around to the wooden steps leading up onto the apron. He put a foot on the first step.

“I thought it would just be the end of a chapter.” Slowly lowering their arm from their face, they scooted themself across the canvas a bit away from the center- not a recoil, but an invitation. Reaching up, they curled their hand around the bottom rope. They knew that. It made them feel even more foolish for exploding the way they had, the silvery light of the moon accentuating the blush standing out on their damp cheeks. “I’m bein’ a fuckin’ dumb baby, aren’t I…”

“No. Not happy that I advertently made a decision for you as well.”

“We’re a package deal. Can’t do it without you. Don’t want to. I know what you said’s right. Our story ain’t over. Just feel like I’ve been thrown violently into the next scene without any time to brace myself. But I’ll get over it. Get over myself, maybe.” Their right arm, the one not gripping onto the rope, reaches out to the side, fingers beckoning a bit. “‘M sorry I broke all that stuff… poor Milscott…”

“It was just that. Stuff.”

He stepped up onto the apron.

“I believed in what we said. All of that talk about hall of fames and being the greatest. It was fun. It lit a fire inside of me. But it made me feel like we were walking down the wrong path. Like we almost did before.”

“Mouthy little shit talks a big game.” There was a dry chuckle at that. All that talk of being the first tag team in the EWC Hall of Fame would likely amount to just that. Talk. It was one of the things that’d jagged at them these past few days, that their ultimate legacy was apparently a foul-mouthed hothead who made big grandiose boasts only to bail without warning. Exhaling, they turned their head toward him, hand still reaching in his direction. “How so? We weren’t bein’ dicks again, were we?”

“No.”

He walked along the the edge of the apron, stopping just before them.

“Don’t think it was that simple. Our words, though? They started to mirror something we swear we’d never be. Started to have some folks nod along that weren’t before.”

It took Mike a moment to puzzle that one out, their mouth pursing, flicking two and fro, nose crinkling a bit. After a few seconds, though, their red-rimmed eyes popped, left hand releasing the rope and going to their mouth with a gasp. “Noooooo. You can’t fuckin’ mean… no. No motherfuckin’ way we were sounding like him. … Were we really?”

“Maybe not exactly. But it made me think. Readjusted a few priorities.”

He had finally stepped through the ropes and entered the ring. He stood over them.

“I would have gone as long as we had those belts. And sure, there were amazing possibilities on the horizon. I love the sport. But I had been wrong in the assumption that it was the only thing I was meant to do. You made me see that.” Mike looked up at him. From this angle he looked impossibly huge, and it made them feel smaller in comparison. Physically anyway. John never made you feel small as a person, and if he did, you probably deserved it. “...maybe I’ve had it backwards this whole time then. I kept seeing things as… I don’t fuckin’ know… a block building. You take out any one part of it- me, you, our home, the business- and everything falls to pieces. I mean I figured we’d stop someday, maybe in a year or two, kinda ease out of it, tell everybody where we were going an’ why. But in all those big fuckin’ pipe dreams I didn’t think about what you thought. I just assumed you wanted the same thing I did when it came to the business an’ that was fuckin’ selfish of me. I’m really sorry.”

He knelt down beside Mike, before finally sitting back, crossing his legs.

“I wanted all of that. But there’s more to us, I believe. I’d be naive to think there isn’t conflict elsewhere in the world but it is less likely than what we were doing. I had remembered what I loved about the business before it was taken all away. But more importantly, I now have something I never had.”

“...VIP customer status at Barnes and Noble?” The cheeky grin that flicked onto Mike’s face wasn’t the wavering, willing-yourself-to-smile expression she’d given him the last couple days. Like a breath of fresh air, it was real. Slowly, they pulled themself up to a sitting position, folding their legs likewise, facing him, reaching for his hands. Without hesitation, John placed his hands into theirs. He smiled in response to Mike’s joke. Sighing softly, Mike ran their thumbs over his knuckles tenderly. Even if they had been mad at him, it wouldn’t have lasted. They could be mad at a lot and hold grudges for ages, but never at him. Something about John was impossible to be angry with- least that’s how Mike saw it. “So… now what?”

John shrugged in response. But in that same moment, he felt an answer come through.

“We stop hiding who we are.”

#Location: Home #post EWC

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roggling · 7 years ago

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The Proposal [Kidge AU] Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

The next morning, there was complete silence, the only noise coming from Katie's quiet snores. Keith's limbs were splayed out on the whole floor and his shirt was lifted up, showing a few his sculpted abs. Katie, however, was sleeping completely still in the exact position she fell asleep in. There was complete peace... until Keith's phone rang.

The obnoxious, high-pitched ring of his phone caused Keith to wake up immediately, shooting up from his spot on the floor. Keith sat up from the floor and squinted from the sudden light. Once he heard the phone ring a second time, he stumbled up to his feet and tried to find it. He extended his arms through the dresser, throwing everything all over the floor. Keith froze when he heard the loud crash of things falling all over the floor and winced when the phone rang again.

Keith glanced at Katie and whispered, "Psst. Katherine." Katie rolled over at the mention of her name but was still half-asleep. Keith tried again, "Psst! Katherine! Katherine!" Katie only hummed in response and Keith stumbled towards her, knocking some things down again.

Keith bent down right next to Katie's face and whispered, "Where's my phone?"

Katie rolled her eyes and mumbled, "Satchel. Right pocket."

Keith turned and looked for his black leather satchel, finding it in the corner of the room. He stumbled his way there again, making Katie groan and roll around the bed. Keith finally made it and grabbed his phone, answering it immediately.

"Hello? Hello. Hello!" Keith mumbled out his words, while simultaneously dropping their bags all over the place as he struggled to stand up, "Gutierrez! Hey! Are you there?" Katie sighed deeply, dragging a pillow to her head and covering her ears with it as Keith continued to speak loudly on the phone.

"Are you there? Crap. Hello? I have horrible service!" Keith struggled to put on some shoes and was walking around on tip-toes, trying to not get such cold feet from the freezing wood floor. "Give me just-"

Katie, at that point, was done and threw a pillow at Keith's head, "I swear to sh*t... IF YOU DON'T SHUT UP THIS VERY SECOND..." Keith then got the memo and tip-toed out of the room whispering, "Hold on just a second."

Keith shut the door quickly and tip-toed down the stairs, simultaneously talking to Gutierrez, "Listen, Anthony, I know you're nervous and I'm sorry you feel that I pressured you into doing CNN, but... Of course, I want you to be happy." Keith rolled his eyes at the immature engineer but continued tip-toeing to the backyard and whispering on the phone, "Anthony. Anthony. Calm down, alright? I can call them. I can cancel. It's fine."

Suddenly, a blur of red caught Keith's attention but, he ignored it for now. As he continued reassuring Anthony, the red blur started getting closer and hissing. Keith glared at the cat, "Sit! Sit." The cat did as tell and Keith kept glaring at it, "No! Not you, Anthony. Uh- I actually think it would be a mistake to back out." Suddenly, the cat walked right in front of Keith and stopped right at his feet but Keith continued talking.

"Because... Anthony, your work is genius and people deserve to know about this scientific endeavor that you helped achieve and who better to explain it than the person who designed it?"

Suddenly, Keith heard a screech and he looked to a nearby tree. There perched was an eagle with its eye on the cat. Keith stared at the eagle for a while, then at the cat. "Yes, Anthony. And your work was really incredible and without you, space exploration will never be the... same." Suddenly, the eagle started flying, circling around Keith, which caught his attention.

"I know you can do this Anthony." The eagle suddenly started getting closer and closer to Keith, but then he realized... it's after the cat.

"Anthony, I believe in you- Give me the cat!" The eagle swooped in and picked up the cat in its talons and started flying away. "Anthony, hold on a second. Just a sec- Give me the damn cat!"

Keith started running around with his hands in the air. Keith then threw his phone at the eagle, which actually hit the huge bird and it dropped Red. Keith ran with his arms extended and caught the cat in his arms. Keith breathed a sigh of relief and ran for his phone, "Anthony, yeah. I'm here. I just want you to think this through and when you make up your mind, call me back." Keith looked up and saw the eagle flying towards them, "What the hell?!"

"No, Anthony, everything's alright. Just think it over." Keith started sounding out of breath, especially because he kept trying to run away from the eagle, "Don't hesitate to call me." Keith started ducking since the eagle was so close, "My phone's on all the time!" Keith then raised his hand out of reflex and suddenly felt his hand empty.

Immediately, Keith looked at his hand, which no longer held his phone, and then looked back up to the eagle, who now had his phone in its talons. "What the sh*t? Give me my phone!" Keith started running after it and had an idea, "Take the cat! Give me my phone and take the stupid cat!"

Keith then started running around with his hands up in the air, holding up the small kitten to the sky. "Come on! I just need my phone back!"

"Uh... what the hell are you doing?" Keith froze in his spot and turned around to see Katie wearing a gray hoodie and burgundy top topped off with a smirk. "The-It- The eagle came and tried to take Red. Then I saved him. Then it came back and took my phone." Katie furrowed her eyebrows and stared at Keith quizzically, "Are you drunk?" Keith shook his head and responded, "What? No! I'm serious. That stupid bird took my phone and Anthony's calling me on that phone!"

Katie rolled her eyes, "Relax. We'll order another phone. Same number. We'll go into town tomorrow and get it." Katie reassured Keith and he visibly calmed down, "Really? Oh... alright." Keith looked down at the cat, "Well, you go then." He let go of the feline and sighed in relief, "I...hate...cats."

Katie chuckled and put her hands in her hoodie's outside pockets, "You have to go get ready." Keith groaned, "For what?" Katie looked back to the house, "You're going into town with Matt and the guys. They say they have a big surprise for you." Keith groaned again, "I'm not going."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes."

"No!"

"You're going."

"Katherine! I don't want to go!"

Katie turned and saw that Shiro and Matt were watching them, "Now, come on Keith, I don't want them to think we're fighting. Give me a hug." Keith kept talking and arguing, "I don't want to hug you." Katie rolled her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck, "Of course you do, my hugs are amazing." Keith grumbled but hugged her anyways, his arms wrapping around her waist. Katie smiled, "See isn't that nice?"

Keith smirked and slid his hand lower, sneaking patting Katie's bum, smirking as he responded, "Very nice." Katie tightened her hold on Keith's neck and whispered in his ear, "If you touch my *ss one more time, I will castrate you in your sleep." Immediately, Keith lifted his hands to Katie's waist, hearing laughter pour out from the inside of the house. Soon enough, the two pulled apart and stood there awkwardly with Katie breaking the silence, "We clear on that?" Keith nodded and Katie smiled and grabbed his cheek, "Good."

Suddenly, Keith felt a small yet harsh tap on his cheek. Katie just slapped him. Keith chuckled and turned around to see Katie walking back towards the house.

Once the guys were gone, Katie had the house all to herself and she LOVED IT. But, unfortunately, she got a text from her father saying that he wanted to see her. She begrudgingly got up to her feet and trudged outside, where her father was playing golf. She watched as he failed to get a golf ball to a little island that held the green, but every time he struck the golf ball, it would land in the waters in between him and his goal.

"You wanted to see me?" Katie asked as she approached her father, who stopped his game and leaned on the club as he began, "Uh-your mother is a little peeved at me. I wasn't the most gracious of hosts yesterday. I guess I was in shock finding out that you're getting married. Especially since we didn't even know you were dating. The point is..." Sam looked his daughter in the eye and extended his hand, "I owe you an apology." Katie looked at the house tentatively, "Apology accepted."

Katie turned around and grabbed a golf club to join her father while listening to him, "I don't like that Keith guy. Seems too uptight." Katie shook her head, preparing herself for what her father was going to say, "I just can't believe you would marry the guy you've hated for the past five years." Katie shrugged, "Despite all that's happened, he's always been fair."

Sam shook his head in disappointment, "Well, I guess I don't have a say in the matter and I can't stop it. I'm happy for you Katie. I really am. If you're happy, that's all that matters."

Katie nodded and smiled at her father, "Thanks, dad."

"There's also the topic of my retirement. And I still need an heir-" Katie closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, knowing where this conversation was going, "We've already discussed this dad."

"Yeah, well, I'd like to discuss this again," Katie looked down to the ground, allowing her father to continue, "Katie, you are heading down a tough and rigorous path. There has never been a female Commander and-"

"-And that's exactly why I want to do this. There are hundreds of women who deserve to see a woman in the high ranks. I am willing to be judged. I don't care."

"I do care!" Her father screamed out, causing Katie to jump, "I've seen women try to do what you're doing, Katie. The world gobbled them up and spit them out mercilessly. I can't let you waste another five years chasing after a dream. It's impossible for any woman-"

"No, you just think it's impossible for me." Katie deadpanned, glaring at her father, and continued, "I'm sorry dad, alright. I'm sorry that you don't have the daughter you've been wanting. One that wanted to carry the family business. One who would marry someone you approve of, but it's not me. I know it's strange to you: my dream to become a space engineer, a Commander. But it's all that I've been dreaming of my entire life, despite what you want me to. And what I've been doing these past five years all lead up to a promotion, believe it or not. So I haven't been wasting my time. It makes me happy, reading all those prints and manuals. You understand?"

Sam drooped his head low, "If that's what makes you happy, Pigeon, then I have nothing to say." Katie scoffed, "Well, that's a first. And by the way... apology not accepted." Katie threw the golf club to the floor and walked back to the house, having found a new rage towards her father.

Back in town, Keith, Shiro, Matt, and Lance were all in a bar bonding over beers. "Man, we couldn't let you leave without taking you here," Shiro said, draping an arm over his little brother while taking a sip of his beer. All the other men agreed and Keith looked around nervously, having no idea what was going on.

"Hope you're ready for your surprise 'cuz she's almost coming," Matt said, excited for whatever they planned for Keith. Lance rolled his eyes and gagged, "It's my sister you guys." Matt shrugged, "Your sister's hot." Lance ignored the other men as the lights dimmed, Matt and Shiro whooping while Lance just watched the stage with interest.

Soon enough the curtains opened to show the same waitress that stared at Keith continuously last night, Natalia. Lance whooped loudly for his sister and screamed, "Whooo! You go, Natalia. That's my sister!" Natalia smiled at her brother as she scanned the audience, her eyes landing on Keith specifically, making him slightly uncomfortable.

Natalia turned to the crowd for a while to say, "Ladies and Gentlemen, I heard there was a groom in the house!" Natalia yelled excitedly, making the crowd clap wildly.

Natalia turned to look at Keith specifically, "This one's for you, hot stuff."

Natalia smiled to the DJ and he winked at her, starting the song.

Come on over in my direction

So thankful for that it's such a blessing, yeah

Turn every situation into heaven, yeah

Lance whooped once his sister started singing in a brotherly way and glared at her when she started winking at guys. Natalia laughed and started dancing innocently to the song as she sang.

My sunrise on the darkest day

Got me feelin' some kind of way

Make me wanna savor every moment

Slowly, slowly

Natalia then locked eyes with Keith, who looked to Shiro, looking at him with a desperate plea to get out. Honestly, he thought Natalia's crush on him was cute, but he didn't like going to places where other people dance on you, it made him feel uncomfortable. He also felt untrue to Katie, especially since she didn't know there was at the moment.

Suddenly, when Keith turned his head again, he found himself face to face with Natalia as she continued singing.

You fit me, tailor-made love

how you put it on

Got the only key know how to turn it on

It was going to be a long night.

As Natalia began with the Spanish part of the song, Natalia went over to Matt and started singing for him. At that moment, Keith took advantage of it and he ran outside, taking in a deep breath of fresh air. He could hear the door shut and he thanked God that he could get out before the song got too... frisky.

Suddenly, he heard the door open again and he could hear a voice join him, "Hey! There you are. How you holding up?" Keith turned and found Lance coming in and joining him by the railing to view the sea. Keith nodded and stammered, "Fine. Fine. I'm great." Lance smiled and took a swig of his beer.

Keith turned to look at him and he could tell why Katie dated him. He was attractive physically and seemed like a great guy. Suddenly, Lance turned and began, "Thanks for what you did back there."

Keith, completely confused, turned around and looked inside the bar, where Natalia was dancing on Matt, "In there? What did I do?"

Lance chuckled, "You left before my sister could do anything frisky. Thank you for not making me see that." Keith nodded in realization, "Oh! That! Yeah. To be honest I don't like being stripped on by girls in front of their family members." Lance laughed and took another swig, "And I guess you're not the type who likes to go to clubs when they're with a girl." Lance stated as he looked towards Keith, smiling.

Keith froze and shook his head, "No. I don't, actually." Lance clapped his back, "You're a good guy, Keith. Good to know Katie found someone who respects her the way she deserves." Lance looked down to the floor sadly, taking another swig from his beer.

Keith turned to look at the tanned man and moved his overgrown bangs out of his face, daring to ask Lance the question he's been dying to ask, "You two were pretty serious, huh?"

Lance turned and looked at Keith, and sighed, "Well, I mean, we dated in high school and all through college, but we were kids." Lance reasoned and Keith could have sworn that Lance had some regret deep in his eyes and asked, "But you guys called it off because of..."

Lance sighed and decided to just tell Keith as he continued, "Uh... well the night before we graduated school, I proposed... but then Katie..." Lance sighed and closed his eyes as if it still hurt to talk about it so Keith finished for him, "She said no."

Lance nodded but continued, "I mean. I don't blame her. We both wanted completely different things in life. She wanted to go to Texas and become a Commander. I wanted to stay here and open my own bakery. This is my home. I didn't want to give it up. So I realized that if we weren't willing to sacrifice something we both really care about to be with the other, then we don't actually love the other nor were we meant for each other." Lance sighed and looked at Keith with a smile, "You're really a lucky guy Keith. Katie's the best and I can tell you two really love each other. I originally came here to see if we could try again, but when I saw how happy she was with you... I-I finally learned to move on."

Keith nodded and immediately felt bad. Here he was taking away an amazing girl from an amazing guy for his selfish needs. He should have just been deported rather than taking a girl away from the guy she deserved.

"Well," Lance started, interrupting Keith's thought process, "cheers to you guys." Suddenly, Lance handed Keith a brand new beer, which Keith took happily and opened it. He clinked his bottle with Lance and took a sip.

Suddenly, the door opened and the two men looked inside, Lance gasping dramatically when he saw a man getting too close to his sister, "Whoa there, pal! Keep those slimy hands off my sister!"

Keith chuckled at Lance as he ran out and Keith stayed outside sipping his beer in contemplation.

Keith, Shiro, and Matt all walked down the dock joking about Natalia's excitement until they all saw Katie hacking at a downed tree with an axe.

"Oh no," Matt said as he got closer and closer to the house.

Keith walked faster to catch up to Matt, "What? What's she doing?"

Matt started walking faster to the house while Shiro stayed behind with Keith, "Something's up. It's best to leave her alone. Come on."

When Keith walked in, he saw Matt and Sam fighting loudly and despite his desperate want to hear their conversation, Keith let them have their privacy and went upstairs to shower.

After a few minutes of the sweet, warm water, Keith turned the water off and looked around for a towel, finding one conveniently right next to the shower. He happily dried himself while humming 'Despacito' in his head, silently cursing the guys for making that stupid song stuck in his head.

All of a sudden, Keith heard a purr and he almost tripped, "Ah!" Keith jumped back in the shower, wetting his just dried feet once again.

"What the hell?" Keith exclaimed as he hid from the red kitten, he bent down and glared at the cat, "How did you even get in here?" The cat merely looked at Keith with its big hazel eyes and tried to touch Keith with its paws, but Keith jumped back before it could touch him and Keith landed in the shower with a loud thud and he groaned.

Outside at the very same time, Katie walked in the room with her music blasting through her headphones, not taking any notice of Keith in the bathroom. Katie bent down to her suitcase and some clothes for her to change it.

At one point, she could have sworn she heard a thud and she froze, listening to see if the sound continued, but after listening for a few seconds, she concluded that nothing was going on and she started taking her top off.

Back inside the bathroom, Keith managed to get Red to sit on the bathroom mat and he tied his towel securely around his waist.

Slowly, Keith bent down and grabbed the ends of the mat and swiftly moved it to the other side of the bathroom and he quickly opened the door, got out, and closed the door again. He pressed his back to the door and closed his eyes in relief, sighing contentedly. But when he opened his eyes, he saw something he never thought he would.

Katie half-naked.

Suddenly, she turned around too and the two of them froze and allowed their eyes to swiftly scan over the other's body before screaming.

"Oh My God!" Keith was the first to scream before Katie let out a loud squeal, scaring Keith into screaming again. Both of them ran to opposite ends of the room, but on the way the bumped into each other, the both of them landing on the floor, Katie on top of Keith.

Again it was a scream fest once they looked into the other's eyes. Katie, this time, screamed, "Why are you wet?!" She struggled to get up and she grabbed a towel, wrapping it around her as Keith tried to get up without showing anything while simultaneously screaming, "Why are you in your underwear?!"

Keith finally got up and stared at Katie in disbelief once she was finally dressed, "Explain yourself!" Katie furrowed her eyebrows, "Explain myself?"

Keith nodded, "Yes, explain yourself." Both of them were panting from the moments before and, if they weren't currently freaking out, they would have been laughing right now. Katie started explaining while trying to calm her heartbeat, "I was changing!"

Keith widened his eyes, "What? You didn't hear me?"

Katie was frantically speaking with her free hand as the other grabbed her towel that was covering the privates, "I was listening to... What are you even doing home?! Then you just jump me out of nowhere? What's that?"

Keith widened his eyes in embarrassment and began explaining himself, "I didn't mean to jump you! Your cat was attacking me so I ran and I ran into you!"

Katie then calmed down and looked around, "What is it with you and this cat?" Keith shook his head, "You know what? Just go! Take a shower, you stink."

Katie shrugged and made a face, "Fine. Fine. Nice tattoo by the way."

Keith unconsciously grabbed the back of his neck, feeling for the patch of skin he knows contains the tattoo. Once Katie opened the door to the bathroom, Red came out quickly and Keith pointed at it, "See? Did you see that?"

Katie dramatically pointed at it, "Oh my God! Did you see the size of claws on that thing? Barely made it out with my life, there." Katie closed the door on Keith while wearing a sarcastic face, immediately leaning on it the second she closed it to think about what just happened.

She couldn't help but think how cute he looked with pink cheeks nor how sculpted his abs looked. She could feel her cheeks burn and shook her head. What are you doing, Katie? Falling in love with your boss? No way.

But unbeknownst to Katie, Keith was feeling the same way.

After the two were dressed for the night and tucked in bed she could hear Keith whisper, "So... naked." Katie rolled her eyes, "Can we not talk about that?" Keith shrugged, "Just sayin'."

Katie exhaled again and closed her eyes to sleep when she heard Keith ask, "So... what's the deal with you and your father?"

Katie clicked her tongue with the roof of her mouth, "Ooh, I'm sorry. That question is not in the binder."

Keith rolled his eyes and continued, "Oh, really? I thought you were the one that said we needed to learn all this-"

"-Not about that I didn't."

"But if the guy asks us-"

"Not about that, Keith! Good night."

Keith sighed, realizing that he took it too far. Katie laid in bed staring at the ceiling and cleared her throat.

Suddenly, Keith's voice spoke up again, "I like the Hallmark Channel." Katie furrowed her eyebrows, "What?"

Keith continued, "I actually quite enjoy it. I took ballet till I was twelve. My first concert was the Black Eyed Peas. I think Sandra Bullock is sexy. I don't like flowers because they remind me of funerals. Never watched 'That's So Raven'. I read the Giver series near Christmas Time, it reminds me of my childhood. Have never slept with anyone in my life. And I went to the bathroom and punched a wall after fighting with Lotor. And the-the bird tattoos? They're swallows. Got them when I was 17... after my parents died. Stupid." Keith cleared his throat trying to choke back tears from remembering his parents.

Katie just laid on her bed, contemplating what Keith said. Keith, now getting nervous because Katie wasn't responding, asked, "You-You still there?" Katie nodded, forgetting that he can't actually see her, then responded softly, "I'm here. Just processing." Keith breathed in deeply, not believing that he just admitted all of that with someone. He playing hundreds of different ways Katie could respond in his head, so when she opened her mouth to speak, he was listening with all ears.

"You really haven't slept with anyone? Ever?" Keith threw his arms up in the air, "Oh my God. Out of all that, that's all you got?" Katie laughed, "No! I'm just surprised." Keith chuckled, "What? You thought your old boss was a player?"

Katie rolled her eyes, "No, I mean, you got the looks and everything. I figured you had lots of girls on your arm." Keith shrugged, "I wasn't raised that way. After my parents died, Shiro acted like my father since he was 23 by the time they were gone. He's never slept with a girl and as a teen, I asked him if it was because he could never get one." Katie chuckled at that and so did Keith, "But he simply said that what makes a marriage special is that you commit yourself completely to them. That your whole self, your whole body is for them only and to not be shared outside of your marriage. I guess those words always stuck with me."

Katie nodded and added, "I was raised like that too, you know. I've never slept with a man." Keith lifted his neck to try to get a peek at Katie, "Not even Lance?" Katie laughed and shook her head, "No, Keith. Not even Lance. Don't worry, you're the only one who has ever seen me in my underwear. Well, besides Allura and my mom."

Keith chuckled, "Well, that makes me feel so special." The two of them started laughing uncontrollably until they fell into a comfortable silence, "Um... Keith?"

Keith smiled, "Yeah?"

"Who are the Black Eyed Peas?"

Keith's jaw dropped and he gasped, "You know the guys that were like 'Pump it! Louder! Pump it! Louder! Pump it! Louder!'" Keith started singing, whisper-shouting whenever he said 'Louder!'

Katie shook her head then laughed, confusing Keith, "What?" Katie continued laughing until she choked out, "I know who they are. I just wanted to hear you sing something." Keith chuckled along with her until he decided to get the guts to tell her what he's been wanting to since that afternoon, "Katie?"

"Yeah?"

"Please don't take this the wrong way."

"...Okay?"

"You are a very beautiful woman."

Katie blushed immediately at Keith's words, inhaling deeply and smiling in her head. Then, she wanted to be silly and began in a very masculine voice, "'Pump it!'"

To her surprise, Keith actually continued after her as he whisper-shouted, "'Louder!'" The two continued that sequence until it was Katie's turn to 'rap'.

"Niggas wanna hate on us (who) Niggas can be envious us (who) And I know why they hatin' on us (why) 'Cause that's so fabulous (what) I'm a be real on us (c'mon) Nobody got nuttin' on us (no) Girls be all on us, from London back down to the US (s, s)

We rockin' it (contagious) Monkey Business (outrageous) Just confess your girl admits that we the shit

F-R-E-S-H (fresh) D-E-F, that's right we def (rock) We definite B-E-P, we rappin' it"

Suddenly Keith stood up and pretended that his hand is a microphone and started dancing as he sang to Katie, "'Com'n baby, just pump it!" Katie would have kept going with the song if it weren't for Keith making weird faces as he sang, making her laugh the whole time.

Dude wanna hate on us Dude need'a ease on up Dude wanna act on up But dude get shut like Flava shut Chicks say, she ain't down But chick backstage when we in town

Keith winked at Katie, who only shook her head as she kept laughing. Keith was painfully aware of how stupid he was acting, but if it made Katie laugh... it was worth it.

She like man on drunk She wanna hit n' run Yeah, that's the speed That's what we do That's who we be B-L-A-C-K-E-Y-E-D-P to the E, then the A to the S When we play you shake your *ss Shake it, shake it, shake it girl Make sure you don't break it, girl Cause we gonna

Katie threw a pillow at Keith, which he caught, and the two fell laughing at their dorkiness.

The two fell asleep with smiles on their faces.

#kidge #kidge fanfic #kidge fanfiction #voltron fanfiction #fanfiction #romantic kidge #keidge #katie holt #ao3

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leemckenziee-blog · 7 years ago

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Live Long Lion, Live Long Little Boy.

Looking through the rusty steel bars made him shake and shudder. The relinquished hope of the lion’s desperate eyes pierced his heart. He slowly moved on, taking deep, deep breaths ridiculously rapidly, looking hazy with a ghostly walk and terror in his eyes as he saw morons satisfied with the parrots reciting their ‘Hello!’ because he knew what the parrots were really trying to say wasn’t ‘Hello!” they were frantically screeching out ‘Help!’ When he reached the next jail cell he observed other children his age giggling at the monkeys tapping on the window, in his mind the monkeys were recklessly attempting to smash through the thick barrier of glass and escape into the space and freedom they deserved. He didn’t understand what was so very hilarious about that. The animals should have more space, more freedom, out in the wild enjoying themselves: not unnecessarily imprisoned.

He felt the animal’s distress as just last year he was in the same position as them. Just nine years old and he felt abandoned, companionless and was stared at and spoken to as if he was special. He was locked up in a tiny, cramped room where he wasn’t allowed to venture out to see anyone, or anything.

Nine years old.

The world was his oyster. Only, his oyster remained securely sealed and no one would let him out, he tried his best to escape but it was impossible because society didn’t want him out. They wanted to keep an eye on him, exactly like they want to keep an eye on the animals in the zoo. No animal should ever feel that way. No nine year old should feel that way. No one should ever feel that way.

He found the laughing children obnoxious and they made him feel sick: so blind and naïve. Obviously, they had never been through anything like him; they were lucky. Making his way back to the lion cage, he stumbled on the uneven pebbled ground and his shoulder collided with a man’s broad elbow, sleeved with the zoo’s twisted, evil logo. It was a lion revealing its massive grinning teeth. The man looked down at him, carrying the same false expression as the lion on his sleeve, “Oh sorry wee man, didn’t see you there! You alright?” He exclaimed. But of course the little boy didn’t answer, instead he looked up and piercingly stared into his eyes like an erratic eagle. Then he walked on and continued his journey back to the lion cage.

He reached the lion cell. The bars that divided the lion from the outside world reminded him of the walls that once divided him from the outside world. Cascading back to him were the memories of his abhorrent ‘room’ in the psychiatric hospital, which he was in just last year. The walls were a plain, patent, rank grey colour and stretching out from the middle of one of these walls was his bed, accompanied by his side table which was on wheels, and was only used at meal times when they rolled it over his bed. He would then stare at what they called food for at least an hour each day. Eventually, a nurse would come in, make a quick note on his chart then force some of the slop down his throat. Later on he would throw it back up onto the shiny, speckles surface, which was the floor. Everything was immaculate and sterile. His only other piece of furniture was a chair that sat in the corner of the room, waiting as patiently as him for visitors that would heartbreakingly never appear.

Home.

It didn’t feel like home to him. But it was where he lived for a while, until finally he persuaded the doctors that he was safe to be released. It felt so bizarre for him to finally step foot outside, with no one constantly watching his every move. He felt so wild. And now he was treated like a normal human being. No one could judgingly spy through the locked door of his room. He wasn’t looked at abnormally anymore, because people didn’t know any better than to think he was just an innocent little boy. After all, he wasn’t locked up, so he couldn’t be that bad. Could he?

When they released him, they gave him countless medication, which was under strict commandment to be taken everyday, at least one every hour to keep him under control.

He took his eyes off the bars and instead turned round to hear the sound of the clock…

Dong! Dong!

He swiftly ignored the time and turned his eyes to the lion. The lion gazed back at him, he felt a tear slowly trickle down his soft cheek as he saw the lion was also crying, his eyes were bleeding desperately with distress. The little boy understood the lion was seeking help and it was no coincidence that they caught each others harrowing eyes. At this moment, the employee he had bumped into earlier on walked in front of him. “Stand back please everyone.” He announced, then, he unlocked the enormous padlock from the door of the lion cage and pushed it open ever so slightly, to throw in the lions meat for the day. It reminded the boy of his ‘meals’ at the hospital: vile. He decided this was his moment, why he was justified freedom all along.

He charged rapidly at the employee from behind and thrust him forward, making him push the barred gate of the lion cage wide open. He lay on the floor, shaking as discretely as possible and hysterically tried not to catch the lion’s attention. Whilst the little boy just stared and smiled at the lion, he heard screams surrounding him from every direction, they were frightening the animals and so they joined in with the screams too: making all different types of screeches and uproars. It was like the first wave of a tsunami was propelling towards the zoo, everyone was running, hiding, screaming, crying, and trying to escape the immense and harmful wave, which was approaching.

Everyone but the little boy, he didn’t think anyone was in danger. A lions cage door was open: so what! It was not harmful like a tsunami wave.

Everyone was holding on to someone, hugging each other tightly and hopefully. Still he hadn’t left the lion’s eyes -except now the pairs eyes were not cold and wet- they were a strong burning fire, dancing with flames of excitement. The boy felt that the lion loved him, he stared at the beautiful creature arise from its rock and casually stroll towards him, it elegantly trampled over the helpless employee who appeared to be lying faint on the ground. Then, suddenly, its large, strong paws came to a halt.

They were now just metres away from each other. The boy stretched out his arms and the lion came sprinting towards him. It was going so fast, so excited to see the little boy: it’s hero. They were free together. I will call him Livelong the lion thought the little boy. Because now, they both felt so alive, and they would always feel alive, together, forever.

The lion got closer and closer. He was very near now and worryingly hadn’t stopped charging towards the boy. It ran into him, with its mouth as wide open as the boy’s arms, but filled with teeth as sharp as daggers.

The lion’s massive mouth surrounded the babyish boys head, and it’s dagger-like teeth pierced into each angle of his neck. His ears were now hidden from the screams and screeches.

It’s now very quiet and the soft sound of nothing but a calming wind breeze relaxes him.

He is finally free, yet wonders if he was tasty.

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a-bored-writer · 6 years ago

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Tsubasa x Kyoya- “Eyesight”

A/N: So, here it is. The Tsubasa x Kyoya fanfic. It’s short, but whatever.

———

The blind, green-haired boy yawned. He hadn’t slept in what felt like forever, but without eyesight, he couldn’t tell the time.

“Tsubasa,” He grazed his hands over the other man’s arm, horizontal, he was laying down, “how late is it?”

He heard his boyfriend shift in the sheets, the mattress dipping with every movement, “Kyo, it’s three in the morning? Why’re you still up?” He lulled.

“I was training,” the Leon-blader admitted. Tsubasa sat up and perched a hand on his boyfriend’s upper back, gently pulling him into his chest.

“Tired?” He smirked.

“I shouldn’t-I need to...I have to be the strongest!” He countered.

“Uh-huh.” Tsubasa rolled his brown eyes, “Okay, listen Mr. Feral-Blind-Boy, it’s three in the morning and I’m not driving out into the middle of nowhere because you’re unconscious. I don’t care if I have to grapple you to the ground, you’re staying here and sleeping.”

Kyoya pouted, still taking in the affection. He could feel the wind from the open window, and judging by the feeling on his hands, Tsubasa was wearing an old tank top that probably belonged to Kyoya. Something was on the bed next to him, a book, it was a book. Tsubasa smelled like rain water and dust, so he had probably been out training,too.

Tsubasa gently tapped his back, indicating something. He laid down, with Kyoya on top of him. He could feel the heat of his boyfriend’s breath, and naturally, Kyoya leaned over and pecked his lips, “Tell me when you go to bed.” He half-joked, half-demanded.

“Mhm...” Tsubasa said, as the gentle tug of sleep consumed him again.

Eventually, even Kyoya, who was still in wild boy mode, curled up next to Tsubasa and enjoyed the quiet of the night. The obnoxious screech of the eagle outside startled him a few times, normally it wouldn’t be a huge deal, but with no sight and heightened hearing, he ended up burying his face in Tsubasa’s clothes to escape the annoyance. He almost fell asleep like that. His face was on the inside of Tsubasa’s shirt, his silver eyes closing, with his body seemingly hanging off of Tsubasa. He forgot how okay-with-everything the silver-haired man was.

Tsubasa’s long hair hit Kyoya’s face, which earned a blush from the younger man. Once the caws stopped, he crawled out of Tsubasa’s shirt and laid down on the bed like a normal person, just for the sake of not scaring the life out of Tsubasa when he wakes up. Finally, sleep consumed him.

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notadog · 8 years ago

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@demisexualhale sorry you had a rough time today. have this au that i saw you talking about after i creeped on your blog. it’s... uh. probably not what anyone involved thought it would be. but i hope you like it?

anyway.

sterek. 2k. spy au. warnings: i know nothing about spies, secret criminal organizations, or technology in general. just roll with it.

“I’ll pay you twenty bucks to hum the Mission Impossible theme while I do this,” Stiles muttered, fishing an exacto knife out of his tool belt. He fit it under the very edge of the ID scanner and, with a flick of his wrist, popped it off like a dream.

“You could pay me twenty thousand and I still wouldn’t do it.”

“Spoilsport.” Gently pulling all the wires out into the open was the easy part; it was identifying the right one to snip that was going to be the tricky part. Would it kill all organized crime syndicates to stick to one universal standard?

“Try the yellow wire. Third from the left.”

“Try?” Stiles repeated under his breath. “We’ve been planning this job for weeks and you want me to go in with ‘try’?”

He could practically hear the eye roll on the other end of the earbud. “Cut the wire, agent.”

“Manners,” Stiles snarked, guiding the exacto to the wire in question. It slid through with a gentle snick and the red light on the ID reader went out.

“You’re welcome.”

Stiles gently fit the card reader back into the wall and got to work prying open the door. “I don’t recall saying thank you,” he grunted, heaving the heavy metal back inch by inch.

“I’m sure it was implied.”

“I might be inclined if you—” Another grunt as he wedged his shoulder in the space he’d made, trying to use it to get some leverage against the protesting metal. “—helped me with this door.” Not for the first time Stiles lamented the fact that he was chosen for the field, instead of the literal werewolf. Instead, he was embarrassing himself and his very human muscles while Derek got his nerd on from the comfort of the unmarked van parked a few streets away. Life just wasn’t fair.

Stiles gave one last shove, and the door gave way with an angry screech that he was pretty sure was audible in China.

“Derek?” he hissed.

“Hold on.” Polite as always, his partner.

Stiles waited, every muscle in his body coiled tight and ready to spring. Whether that meant to fight or flee was yet to be determined. At least three times he imagined some noise that would precede his discovery, but he forced down the instinct to panic with a violent mental shove. The government hadn’t spent billions of dollars in training his ass to trust his partner with his life for nothing.

After an excruciating eternity, Derek’s voice filtered in through the earpiece. “You’re clear. Not for lack of effort.”

Stiles couldn’t help grinning. “You say the sweetest things.” False confidence was easy again now that his heart wasn’t jammed halfway up his throat. He rummaged through his toolkit for one of his most versatile gadgets: a retractable rod made of a polymer material developed by Derek himself. It was three hundred times stronger than steel but lighter than any other material of its kind on (or off) the market. It was a beautiful piece of some of the most sophisticated technology to come out of R&D, and it gave Stiles a thrill of childish joy to jam it inelegantly between door and wall to keep his escape route free.

“Speaking of which…” Derek’s voice was that special brand of pained that signaled to Stiles that his trick had hit its mark. “Let’s try to keep to aliases while we’re on the comms, all right?”

Stiles winced. He had called out Derek’s real name in a moment of panic, hadn’t he? “It’s not my fault you rejected my code name suggestions.”

The sound quality was considerably different behind the door than in the hallway. Though he couldn’t see into the space, it swallowed up Stiles’ voice in a way that suggested space… a lot of it. Stiles fumbled for the flashlight at his belt and stepped cautiously inside.

“You’re not calling me Eagle Two.”

“Well I’m not giving you Eagle One, dude. I called dibs.” He clicked on the flashlight and did a slow sweep of the room. Well. Cavern was probably a better word for it. It was big enough to swallow the weak beam of his government-issued flashlight, leaving the ceiling and far walls shrouded in shadows. “Are you seeing this?”

Derek hummed, but gave no further comment.

“Gotta admire their style, though,” Stiles continued conversationally. The whole affair was an ode to vaulted ceilings broken up by stone columns and sloping walls covered in expensive-looking tile. Whoever built it certainly had a flair for the dramatic. To his left was a small bank monitors hooked up to a lowly humming box. Stiles made his way over to it. “I mean, you gotta respect the whole batcave vibe.”

Derek snorted. It was a shock, completely at odds with his usual implacable stiffness. In his entire time working with him, Stiles had never once seen the man so much as crack a smile. And here he was, almost laughing in Stiles’ ear. “It’s an evil lair, agent. Much more Luthor’s speed than Wayne’s.”

Stiles considered the space again. It did bear an uncomfortably close resemblance to Lex Luthor’s underground lair in Superman. Much more so than any adaptation of the Batcave. Point to Derek. “I didn’t know you were a fan of the classics.”

“I’m multifaceted.”

How someone can sound so unbearably smug with only two words, Stiles would never know. “Nerd.”

“Center console. There should be a panel under the monitors.”Definitely smug.

Stiles fumbled around until he found a hidden switch. A previously unseen panel slid forward, revealing three USB slots. Stiles thumbed open the smallest pocket in his tool belt that housed the USB sticks Derek gave him specifically for this point in the job. Just to be sure, he asked, “This the one?”

“Mhm,” Derek confirmed. “You know which one’s first?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. Even if Derek hadn’t labeled them 1 and 2 in obnoxious silver sharpie, the four consecutive run-throughs Derek had forced him to listen to before letting him out of the van would have been enough to hammer the point home.

“Yes, dad,” he muttered, fishing out the first stick. “Just let me know when I need to switch them out.”

“You’ll know,” Derek replied cryptically, which didn’t inspire a whole lot of confidence, but Stiles would be damned if he admitted that out loud.

Stiles watched in interest as the script contained within the flash drive did its thing. It was another of Derek’s projects, something he’d been developing for months with the rest of his little nerd squad back at headquarters. Derek had explained a little of it back in the van. If pressed by a superior, Stiles could explain that the code was meant to create a channel between this server and one controlled by their agency, one that Derek’s team could use to read through and copy every file stored on this server. Anything else had gone over Stiles’ head.

Stiles’ skills were more hands-on and intuition based. Identifying suspicious characters? Convincing them to divulge all of their deepest secrets to him? Finding the fastest way out of any resulting shootouts or capture attempts? That was where he shined the brightest. Developing extremely complicated code to infiltrate evil corporations’ systems, do… stuff while inside them, then exit without a trace? That was Derek’s thing. Stiles was just the sneaky middleman needed to insert peg A into slot B.

The screens flickered constantly between different windows. Lines of code would appear and disappear again too fast for him to read, but based on Derek’s intermittent hums of approval in his ear, Stiles guessed they were doing their job. As the script worked, he kept an ear out for any sign of discovery.

They passed the time together in silence, both of them tense at the thought of the most important part of their mission falling through at the last second. It left Stiles alone with his senses, feeling wrong-footed for the first time since infiltrating the compound earlier in the evening. After a too-long stretch of time, activity on the screens slowed down, then stopped. All the screens were black except for one, which held a single line of green text and a blinking cursor. Stiles leaned forward to read it. When he did, he made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat.

Insert 2nd USB stick, agent. (It has the number 2 on it.)

“Told you you’ll know,” Derek’s voice was a gentle tease in his ear.

“You were so cryptic about it,” Stiles muttered, complying. “I thought it was gonna be something cool.”

“Computers are cool,” Derek replied, then lapsed back into silence.

The second stick took much less time than the first, or maybe it was just the end in sight that made it seem like it was going faster than it actually was. Whichever was true, it felt like no time until a single green line of text was displaying Installation Complete before all the screens went blank.

Derek’s voice was like silk. “Don’t forget to take the USBs with you.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Thanks,” he snarked, tucking the USBs back into their pocket and securing it. “What would I do without you?”

“You would be dead seven times over if it weren’t for me.”

“Fair,” Stiles conceded. It was gratifying to return the door and find it hadn’t budged an inch since he’d left it. It was rare in Stiles’ line of work that the things he set down stuck around and waited patiently for him to collect them. Granted, at this point in his career most of the “things” Stiles set aside for later were informants and enemies of the government, so a little bit of disobedience was probably to be expected. But whatever. Details.

Easing the door closed was trickier than forcing it open, Stiles soon realized. Not only was he worried about loudly protesting metal, he wasn’t sure how he was going to stop the whole thing from slamming closed the second he pulled out Derek’s rod.

Heh.

As always, Derek chimed in with the solution at Stiles’ precise moment of need.

“Retract it gradually,” Derek commanded, and Stiles complied. “Good. Now fold your jacket in half and stick it in so it doesn’t slam… Good. Now just pull the jacket out.”

Under Derek’s direction, Stiles eased the nightmare door closed. The jacket muffled the metal-on-metal impact, and when he yanked it out, the door settled back into place with hardly a complaint. Stiles made a mental note to make the whole experience sound a lot cooler in his retelling the next day.

“You’re welcome,” Derek whispered in his ear, voice dripping with self-satisfaction.

“I don’t recall saying thank you,” Stiles replied as he popped the card reader out of the wall again, grinning at the echo of their conversation from earlier. There was a prolonged pause as he bit off a length of electrical tape and carefully brought the snipped ends of the yellow wire together.

“It was implied.”

“Whatever you say, big guy.”

Stiles secured both raw edges of the wire with the tape, then confirmed that the ID reader was once again operational. He carefully tucked the bundle of wires back into their space in the wall, then returned the box to its home for the last time, good as new.

“Ready to get me out of here?”

“Always,” was the curt reply, sounding almost fond to Stiles’ delusional ears. “You’re alone on your floor, but there are two guards stationed outside the elevators to the west, same as when you came in. Your best bet is to go south to avoid them, then take the service stair up to ground level.”

“Got it,” Stiles said, already moving towards his exit. “See you soon, dude.”

“You better.”

Stiles made good on his promise, and was rewarded with a nod of acknowledgement from Derek when he threw open the van door. It was the closest Stiles had ever come to getting an honest-to-god smile from the guy, and it made something warm and gentle unfurl in his chest.

He couldn’t stop grinning the entire drive back to headquarters.

#demisexualhale #sterek #eternalsterek #eternal sterek #stereksupportnetwork #i feel like i need to apologize to everyone for posting this lmao #it's been a while since i've posted anything of my writing anywhere so pls be kind

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j-exclamationmark-l · 8 years ago

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Recently I came home from work, set my stuff down, then stopped.

I could hear a faint sound from somewhere nearby - it sounded sort of like really soft screeching (as if in the distance), then whirring motors (much closer). It rested for about a minute, then repeated.

Whatever, I thought. I took a shower, made dinner, ate, cleaned up, went to sleep.

The next morning, I woke up to the same sound.

Well... I live next to an elementary school. Maybe one of the kids left their toy out somewhere nearby. It’ll probably go away by the time I come home from work.

I came home from work and still heard the noise.

This continued for about three more days before it began to drive me insane. I went outside and looked around. I’d assumed maybe one of the neighborhood cats had taken a battery-operated toy and dropped it on my roof, but I could see nothing at all. Weirder yet, I couldn’t even hear it from outside. But the minute I opened my door, it seemed to blast out from my room, louder and angrier than before. Eventually I could pinpoint that it sounded loudest standing in the middle of my kitchen, but when I opened the windows, I couldn’t hear the sound from outside. I tore apart my cabinets and refrigerators searching for the sound, but came up empty.

The anxiety I felt at hearing this damn robot pterodactyl shriek began robbing me of sleep.

Finally, when I had a day without work, I went on a mission to find the source of the sound now that I was at my apartment in daylight. I went back onto my roof and looked over every last centimeter, but could neither see nor hear anything. I inspected the shed and what looked like a storage area, but there was nothing of interest there.

Just as I was about to give up, I had an idea.

The sound obviously wasn’t coming from above me.

Below...?

I descended to the dark, unlit hall beneath mine, and I could ever-so-faintly hear the sound. I followed it to the end of the hall, to a door that looked like it should have simply opened to the outside. But when I pressed my ear to the door, I could hear the sound coming from inside.

My heart was beating rapidly. I’d found it. There were no lights in this hall and the sunlight only barely illuminated it (it’s sort of half-outside). I steeled myself and knocked.

No one answered.

I stood in silence for a moment, wondering what to do. I felt like a horror movie protagonist doing something profoundly stupid, but I needed to know what the sound was, and stop it if I could.

I turned the door handle and pushed.

The wire from the top picture led up to the hole in the ceiling, dug directly beneath my floorboards. The sound was obnoxiously loud here, coming from that hole. My hands began shaking at this point - I didn’t know what I’d expected to find, but this wasn’t it. I’d had problems with stalking in the past, so my first thought was of course that it was someone digging a hole in my floorboards to spy on me. I quickly snapped three pictures, then unplugged the wire from the wall - the sound immediately stopped. I was too afraid to pull it down. Once the noise was gone, I bolted back up to my room and curled up into a ball, trying to decide what to do and how much of what I feared it was was merely paranoid speculation and how seriously I should be taking my panic.

The next day, I paid a visit to the apartment company and showed her the pictures and let her listen to the recordings I’d taken (sorry, I’ve already deleted the latter). At first, she insisted there was no one beneath me until I showed her the photos, at which point she began freaking out. I sat in her office while she made phone call after phone call until finally getting a hold of someone.

It turned out...

The apartment building has mice. So someone thought it would be a good idea to place a screeching eagle sound in my floorboards to humanely get rid of the mice without killing them. Not in their rooms, though, it was too noisy. In my floorboards.

She sadly told me they’d have to turn it back on.

I told her I couldn’t sleep with it buried in my floor.

She thought about it and finally decided it would stay off.

A few days later, the sound was replaced with an insanely high-pitched wine, the kind just barely out of the range of hearing, that turns your skin into gooseflesh and summons images of long fingernails dragging on a chalkboard. I had absolutely no qualms about storming downstairs and unplugging that shit.

If I can’t practice violin in my apartment, you can’t have a symphony of robotic stomping and screeching and chalkboard fingernails playing 24/7.

Anyhow... that was my February.

#personal #creepy #japan #i mean it could have been worse

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pcwpolwrestling · 8 years ago

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Rachel Maddow Gets to the 'Truth'...Again: 3/15-PCW Extreme Political TV

Starz N. Stripes (American Patriots) suplexes A.J. Alabama (Sports Entertainment Corporation) in the Main Event

Johnny Suave (voiceover): “Last week on PCW Extreme Political TV, Professor McCarthy and his Flock continued to ‘shout people down!’”

(REPLAY: Bi-Partisan Dream Team: Blue Dog D and RINO-The Wonk Machine vs. Average Joe and Brad Company- Last Week’s Extreme Political TV) …Blue Dog D brawls with Brad Company; RINO with Average Joe. Professor McCarthy ambles down and points. Codee Pink, Emily S. List, the Green World Order: GreenPete, ‘Radishing’ Rick Rube, ‘Extreme Vegan’ Brock Cole Lee, and Peacenick, and the Young Jerks: Zenk Cryger and James Idahola stormed to ringside and attacked all four.

Professor McCarthy: “Let this be a lesson to everyone. If you are unenlightened, and I’m talking to you in ‘flyover country,’ red states and, counties all across the nation who aren’t as worldly as we are, either you throw their support towards those are intellectually superior…like us…or we will shout you down just like we’re doing right now to these two teams.”

(REPLAY: Green World Order: GreenPete, ‘Extreme Vegan’ Brock Cole Lee, ‘Radishing’ Rick Rube vs. Les Miserables: Heartland Champion Charlie Blackwell, Ray McAvay, PCW Champion William Daniels Bryan- Last Week’s Extreme Political TV) Zenk Cryger and James Idahola of the Young Jerks hop into the ring and attacks Blackwell. McAvay and Bryan wade in and runs into GreenPete, Codee Pink, and Emily S. List. PeaceNick even gets in a shot on McAvay by breaking his placard on a stick over his head

8th Minute: Lee, Cryger, and Idahola triple team Blackwell and force him into a corner. GreenPete, PeaceNick, Codee Pink, and List brawl with McAvay and Bryan. Then Average Joe, Brad Company, and the Bi-Partisan Dream Team (Blue Dog D-Progressive Alliance/RINO-The Wonk Machine-American Patriots) runs down to the ring to clean house. Cryger and Idahola tossed from the ring by Average Joe and Company; GreenPete, Codee Pink, and List summarily dismissed by Blue Dog D and RINO. PeaceNick rolls out of the ring and makes a run for it to the back.

…

Post-match, an angry Professor McCarthy snuck into the ring and blasted Blackwell in the back of the head with a megaphone. Bert the Janitor immediately tossed McAvay the Big Bertha Driver and he whapped McCarthy in the head with the club.

PCW! PCW! PCW! PCW!

Colleen Crowder (screeching at the crowd): SHUT UP!

The show ended with the Les Miserables celebrating with Average Joe, Brad Company, and the Bi-Partisan Dream Team in the ring.

Johnny Suave (v/o): “‘Sports Entertainment Genius’ Mr. McMann spoke with PCW CEO Donald Trump and worked out an agreement where A.J. Alabama and Stevie ‘War’ Eagles get another shot at the PCW Tag Team Champions Starz N. Stripes and Magnum P.O.’d.”

(REPLAY: SEC’s ‘Sports Entertainment Corporation’ Mr. McMann and SEC mouthpiece Phil Feinbaum)Mr. McMann took to the microphone following the match and proclaimed that Saturday night in Marietta, Georgia, PCW will finally be assimilated into the world of sports entertainment.

Mr. McMann: “One more time, PCW. Resistance is futile.”

Phil Finebaum then spoke. He said that people care more about college football than they do about politics and after Alabama and Eagles destroy the American Patriots tag team for the title- people will put them up on the Mount Rushmore of all-time PCW tag teams.

Johnny Suave (v/o): “And Friday night, the American Patriots Kirk Walstreit picked up a YUUUUGE win over the PCW Champion and perhaps earn himself another title shot.”

(REPLAY: PCW Champion William Daniels Bryan vs. ‘The Wall Street Market Analyst with the Man Crush on ESPN’s Kirk Herbstreit’ Kirk Walstreit- Last Week’s Extreme Political TV)…Bryan countered and locked in the Cattle Mutilation for the win- except Gordon Guyko had referee Kevin Barry’s attention. Bryan broke the hold and went over to Barry. Walstreit delivered a forearm shot to the back that sent him into Guyko. Guyko went flying off the ring apron. Walstreit turned Bryan and hit the Stock Market Plunge for the win.

PCW Extreme Political TV Taped Saturday Night March 11th, 2017 Marietta, GA Hosts: Johnny Suave and Colleen Crowder

youtube

**OPENING CREDITS/MONTAGE**

PCW! PCW! PCW! PCW!

Johnny Suave: “Welcome to PCW Extreme Political TV. I’m Johnny Suave. She’s low level reporter at the New York Times trying to make a name for herself- Colleen Crowder. Tonight, we are live in Marietta, Georgia and the Sports Entertainment Corporation gets a second shot at the PCW Tag Team title as A.J. Alabama and Stevie ‘War’ Eagles takes on tag team champions American Patriots Starz N. Stripes and Magnum P.O.’d for the belt.”

Colleen Crowder: “Johnny, our narrative is this- it’s a travesty there’s no Progressive Alliance wrestler in the title picture. It’s a matter of fairness. The American Patriots are all over the title scene. Even the Les Miserables are all over the title scene. But there’s no one from the Progressive Alliance. It’s time someone took a look at the booking here because there’s a lot of favoritism being shown towards the American Patriots- and especially the Les Miserables.”

Johnny Suave: “What do you mean- favoritism?”

Colleen Crowder: “Well, favoritism is the only way to explain why William Daniels Bryan and Charlie Blackwell are the PCW and Heartland Champions.”

Johnny Suave: “Oh? You mean the fact that Bryan and Blackwell both won title matches inside the ring against their opponents had nothing to do with it?”

No answer.

Johnny Suave: “Thought so.”

Suave then ran through the card for tonight. Two matches.-Three Way Dance: The Millennial Man w/E.J. Flack vs. ‘The One Man Hollywood A-List’ Stone Chism (Progressive Alliance) vs. Yamamoto Tanaka-PCW Tag Team Title Match: American Patriots: Starz N. Stripes and Magnum P.O.’d © vs. the SEC: A.J. Alabama and Stevie ‘War’ Eagles

Suave sent it to the ring for Kimber Marshall to introduce the first match of the night but a commotion broke out over the policy of liberally giving out free tickets to VIP’s and political friends who just show up to venues where PCW runs came up.

Once again, ‘Red Solo Plastic Cup’ Ray McAvay, PCW Champion William Daniels Bryan, and Heartland Champion Charlie Blackwell purchased front row seats all around the ring and gave them away to ordinary, working Americans to comprise the Les Miserables section.

Steve ‘The Elk’ Elkins Segment Country Club golf pro Steve ‘The Elk’ Elkins (American Patriots) became incensed and stormed the ring to speak his mind. Elkins complained that front row seats were for VIP’s, people with the cash and the means to afford to sit close to the action, and the fact that the tickets were purchased and then given away makes a mockery of the system.

Steve ‘The Elk’ Elkins:“You’re not good enough to sit this close. And the fact that PCW refuses to give us special dispensation and free comps to shows is a joke. Do you see people like you (points to some of the people in the front row) sitting in luxury boxes at sporting events? Hell no. Do you see people like you…

Elkins pointed at General DeBauchery- who looked like a bizarre combination of the AWA’s Colonel DeBeers and Lt. Aldo from Inglorious Basterds, sporting a black captain’s hat right out of World War II, smoking a cigar and grinning obnoxiously, Al Cahall- sporting six pack abs…oh…that’s a six pack in front of his abs and the man smoking a cigarette in violation of several anti-smoking ordinances…as usual, Nic Koteen, sitting at ringside and flipping Elkins off.

Steve ‘The Elk’ Elkins:…sitting with corporate sales and schmoozer types trying to gin up business? Hell no. You don’t deserve to sit there. There’s no reason that you should be at ringside when there are people who have actually accomplished something with their life, people of industry, corporate CEO’s and the like who deserve to be where you are sitting. PCW needs to get its head out of its ass when it comes to properly taking care of the needs of its affluent clientele who demand premium tickets at the drop of a hat.”

The crowd, of course, showed Elkins how they felt about his remarks by showering him with vociferous boos and jeers.

‘The One Man Hollywood A-List’ Stone Chism, Charles Robinson-Richards, ESQ, and Ultimate Social Justice Warrior SegmentThe ‘One Man Hollywood A-List’ Stone Chism came out next.

Stone Chism: “Here’s the problem. There’s no star power in the front row. If you want to be noticed, you need big Hollywood stars- not them.

Chism pointed at McAvay and the Les Miserables in the front row.

Stone Chism: “And where do you find big Hollywood stars? In the Progressive Alliance-“

The boos and jeers ramped up even louder when the ‘Blue State Esquire’ Charles Robinson-Richards sauntered out sipping a cup of cappuccino with the Ultimate Social Justice Warrior.

Charles Robinson-Richards: “For way too long, the Blue States have shelled out far more in federal tax monies than we’ve taken in. We have funded massive infrastructure projects in Red State rural counties, subsidized Red State schools and power plants and nursing homes, and simultaneously absorbed the most destitute, unskilled, and oppressed portions of your populations, white and black alike. And yet, here we are.”

Robinson-Richards definitely gave off the air of someone who clearly thought he was superior to everyone else inside the building.

Charles Robinson-Richards: “You are all so inferior to us enlightened people who live with the rest of the progressive intellectuals in the blue states. It’s a shame that it takes you people multiple jobs, working forty-five-fifty plus hour work weeks, just to make as much in a year as I make in one week and, yet, you people still file bankruptcy in more numbers than we do in the blue states.”

Robinson-Richards pointed at McAvay etal.

Charles Robinson-Richards: “You don’t have a moral right to sit in those seats. Do you know who does have a moral right to seat there? This man.”

He pointed at the Ultimate Social Justice Warrior.

Charles Robinson-Richards: “People who are disenfranchised, discriminated against. They deserve to sit there. Not a bunch of downtrodden Red State Rednecks.”

WE’RE CHANGING EVERYTHING!

Johnny Suave: “Oh swell. This keeps getting better and better.”

Green World Order Segment Then the Green World Order marched down to the ring accompanied by Professor McCarthy, Codee Pink, Emily S. List, and the Young Jerks (Zenk Cryger and James Idahola with Anna).

Peta from PETA yells at and abused people in the crowd who were eating meat. GreenPete followed, then PeaceNick- who chanted peaceful mantras while holding up a sign protesting the inherent violence in pro wrestling.

‘Extreme Vegan’ Brock Cole Lee and ‘Radishing’ Rick Rube trailed behind. All five members of the Green World Order wear their matching green ‘GWO’ t-shirts to the ring.

Professor McCarthy grabbed Kimber Marshall’s microphone.

Professor McCarthy: “Here’s the real problem. These people think that the Les Miserables represent them. They think that the Les Miserables are sticking up for them. The Les Miserables claim to speak for the people. Which as we all know is false. The people aren’t smart enough to speak for themselves which is why people like us have to tell them what to think, what to say, what to do, what to believe. (turns to the people on the floor) They’re selling you a false bill of goods. You need to listen to us. (holds up the good book of things– the good book that tells us things that are correct or incorrect to say, think, or believe) You need to heed to everything that’s inside this book and do what it says to do, think what it says to think, believe what it says to believe. If you don’t- then you need to be shouted down.”

The crowd, of course, showed Professor McCarthy how they felt by showering him with vociferous boos, jeers, and projectiles.

Johnny Suave: “Yeah, that’s not the least bit left wing fundamentalist.”

Colleen Crowder: “Stop it Johnny! This has nothing to do with religion.”

Johnny Suave: “Pre-law. Pre-med. Right wing fundamentalism. Left wing fundamentalism. Same thing.”

Colleen Crowder: “You stop that right now!”

Professor McCarthy then announced that the upcoming match would be important ONLY if there are two Progressive Alliance wrestlers participating. The Ultimate Social Justice Warrior and ‘The One Man Hollywood A-List’ Stone Chism could wrestling to become ‘the standard bearer of our movement.’ He called on the powers that be to give either the USJW or Chism a title shot against the fraudulent PCW Champion William Daniels Bryan.

Professor McCarthy: “Say it with me- hashtag “not my PCW champion”

*crickets*

Professor McCarthy: “SAY IT DAMMIT!”

*crickets*

Kimber Marshall ripped the microphone away from Professor McCarthy and climbed into the ring. But before she can make the ring announcements, PCW CEO Donald Trump appeared on the video screen.

Donald Trump: “Okay. You want it. You got it. Let’s make our first match a Fatal Four Way match then.”

==========================

MATCH #1- FATAL FOUR WAY MATCH

Yamamoto Tanaka- The Japanese SuperDestroyerHT: 6′ 9″ WT: 350 / HOME: Nagano, Japan / FIN: Japanese Super Destroyer

Vs.

Millennial Man w/Manager E.J. Flack HT: 6’-1” WT: 200 / HOME: Beachwood, OH / FIN: Parent’s Basement Slam

Vs.

‘The One Man Hollywood A-List’ Stone Chism (Progressive Alliance) HT: 6′ 2″ WT: 225, HOME: Hollywood, CA / FIN: Hollywood Blockbuster

Vs.

The Ultimate Social Justice Warrior (Progressive Alliance) w/Charles Robinson-Richards, Blue State EsquireHT: 6’ 2”, WT: 245, HOME: Washington, DC / FIN:

===========================

Johnny Suave: “This will be a good test for Yamamoto Tanaka. We’ll see just how much of the ring rust he’s been able to knock off since his return to PCW. Stone Chism has been in the doldrums and needs a good result here. This is an opportunity for the Ultimate Social Justice Warrior to make an impression and we’ll see just how much Charles Robinson-Richards, Blue State Esquire interjects himself into the match. And E.J. Flack just hopes that the Millennial Man can stay out of everyone’s way.”

Colleen Crowder: “The narrative we’re going with here is that this is a battle for the heart and soul and the future direction of the Progressive Alliance. Nothing else really matters here.”

MATCH RECAP:

1st Minute: USJW teased going after Tanaka but quickly turned on the One Man Hollywood A-List. The Millennial Man tried to ‘hide’ and stay out of harm. But Tanaka and the millennial revisited their battle from a couple weeks ago. MM tried to fight back and hit a missile dropkick.

2nd Minute: USJW and Chism rolled out of the ring and brawled on the floor. Tanaka tried to pick up the pacing and cut the Millennial Man off in the corner. Kick to the gut by Tanaka to MM. Big vertical suplex by Tanaka. USJW superkicked Chism to the floor. Flack shouted at Millennial Man to get to the floor but Tanaka prevented him from doing so. Back body drop by Tanaka. A second vertical suplex.

3rd Minute:USJW and Chism made no effort to head back to the ring. USJW brained Chism with a steel chair and tried to choke him out with a cable on the floor. Back in the ring, Tanaka clipped out MM’s knee and laid in a beating on the young wrestler. Powerbomb by Tanaka. Japanese Destroyer by Tanaka. Game. Set. Match.

WINNER: ‘Japanese SuperDestroyer’ Yamamoto Tanaka @ 2:49

Post-match, USJW and Chism brawled all the way to the back.

Johnny Suave: “Well, I don’t think we got any answers on how far along the Japanese SuperDestroyer is in his return. But interesting that the Ultimate Social Justice Warrior and Stone Chism seemed more interested in fighting each other than trying to win the match.”

Colleen Crowder: “Doesn’t matter who won. The narrative of this match is the Progressive Alliance is sorting out their house and soon will be challenging for the PCW title once again.”

Les Miserables/Dawn McGill Bias Alleged Crowder again started up with the ‘favoritism’ theme and was joined by Dan Miller- low level reporter at the Washington Post also trying to make a name for himself. Miller agreed with Colleen that the Les Miserables are receiving preferential treatment and the reason they are is because of the prior relationship between PCW Owner Dawn McGill and ‘Red Solo Plastic Cup’ Ray McAvay.

Dan Miller: “It’s a fact that Dawn McGill has a bias towards the Les Miserables and I believe it has something to do with the end of her relationship with McAvay. Clearly, McAvay has ‘something’ over McGill. It’s the only reason both Bryan and Blackwell are holding titles and McAvay’s using whatever he has on his ex-wife to engineer the elevation of the Les Miserables to a much higher level than they should be.”

Johnny Suave: “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. There’s no proof to support that.”

Colleen Crowder: “That’s our narrative, Johnny. McGill and McAvay is hiding something about the end of their marriage. The fact that McGill is hardly around and McAvay has been allowed to buy up tickets to artificially plant his Les Miserables at ringside which gives them another unfair advantage over the other factions.”

Johnny Suave: “Or…it could be that people are fed up with Progressive Alliance/American Patriot domination of PCW and are rooting for the underdogs.”

Colleen Crowder: “Nope. That doesn’t fit our thinking.”

Rachel Maddow

MSNBC’s Rachel Maddow, fresh off her stunning reveal that PCW CEO Donald Trump paid $38 million dollars in taxes on $150 million dollars in income in 2005, walked out with yet another major announcement. Maddow held up a large manila envelope in her hand.

Rachel Maddow: “Right here in my hand, I have exclusive information on Dawn McGill and Ray McAvay’s divorce- the sealed paperwork that’s never seen the light of day that they’ve been hiding from the public. Proof that McAvay and the Les Miserables are getting preferential treatment from McGill.”

Colleen Crowder: “YES! SEE! I TOLD YOU! McAvay’s got something on his ex-wife. That’s why the Les Miserables, Rah!, the friggin’ Beer Bellied Softball Playing Ninja are being pushed instead of the Progressive Alliance wrestlers- something of actual substance like the Ultimate Social Justice Warrior.”

Miller nodded his agreement and approval. Maddow promised that she would present all the ‘juicy details’ of the McGill-McAvay divorce at the end of the show.

Sports Entertainment Corporation/Corporate Sports(Entertainment) Programming Nation ‘Exclusive’ InterviewThe SEC’s corporate partner CSPN taped part of the interview earlier in the day in Quincy, Illinois as ‘Sports Entertainment Genius’ Mr. McMann was there to appear at a Missouri Valley Wrestling show.

CSPN’s Reese Anderson did the first part of the ‘exclusive’ with Mr. McMann and tossed out the requisite softball questions. Properly led by Anderson, Mr. McMann came out and said that the only way PCW will survive is to give up on the political angle and embrace his vision of sports entertainment.

Mr. McMann: “Look, sports entertainment overshadows politics. More people care about the SEC and how their teams perform in the college football arena than they do politics. More people care about the SEC here in PCW than they do the Progressive Alliance and the American Patriots. It’s time to give up the pretense that politics as pro wrestling works and embrace the inevitable- sports entertainment is the only way forward.”

McMann predicted that ‘even though he won’t be there’, it won’t matter because the SEC is just better than everyone else in PCW.

The second part of the ‘exclusive’ interview took place live in Marietta, Georgia with Rebecca Morris serving up the hanging curve balls for SEC mouthpiece Phil Finebaum. Finebaum said this about tonight’s match for the PCW Tag Team Title.

Phil Finebaum: “Alabama and Eagles were robbed last time by a substandard referee. It’s crock that PCW won’t allow a big time, pressure tested SEC referee to officiate this match. You people don’t appreciate just how good Alabama and Eagles are. They are so good that at some point they will become bored with the lack of competition in PCW and move on- just like Nick Saban, the world’s greatest head football coach, may get bored with his own brilliance at Alabama and give the NFL one more try.”

REPLAY OF EARLIER MATCH: Rah and Jack Fraiser w/Oootlander Blaire Rendell vs. The Dork Dynasty: Sheldon and Leonard Robertson

Nerdy duck call, decoy fabricators and master’s students Dork Dynasty had a good ol, knock down drag out against fan favorites Rah and Jack Fraiser.

In the end, the Dork Dynasty pulled out a tough win.

Sheldon Robertson makes the pin on Rah before Jack Fraiser can come to his aid.

After the highlights, Crowder complained loudly that PCW was unfairly pushing Rah and Fraiser at the expense of the Progressive Alliance wrestlers. Suave ignored her and went to the ring for the main event.

Kimber Marshall did the announcements.

===========================

MAIN EVENT- PCW TAG TEAM TITLE MATCH

Starz N. Stripes HT: 6′ 3″ WT: 250, HOME: Ottumwa, IA / FIN: American Stars and Fujiwara Bar

Magnum P.O’d HT: 6′ 3″ WT: 235 HOME: Honolulu, HI / FIN: Porsche Plunge

Valet: ‘Blonde Conservative Fireball’ Tori Loudman

vs,

Sports Entertainment Corporation

A.J. AlabamaHT: 6′ 4″ WT: 246 / HOME: Tuscaloosa, AL / FIN: Alabama Slam

Stevie ‘War’ EaglesHT: 6′ 3″ WT: 245 / Auburn, AL / FIN: Eagle’s Claw

Mgr: The SEC Mouthpiece- Phil Finebaum

============================

Johnny Suave: “Can Alabama and Eagles, supporters of bitter college football rivals, keep it together long enough to defeat the tag team champions. And yes, Starz N. Stripes and Magnum P.O.’d may have caught a break in their first encounter. They’ll have to be on top of things this time around or else the SEC will leave the ring with the PCW Tag Team titles.”

Colleen Crowder: “Who cares about this match? Everyone is waiting for Rachel Maddow to spill the beans about the sordid details behind the McAvay-McGill divorce.”

Johnny Suave: “Um, no. I’m not waiting for anything of the sort.”

Colleen Crowder: “That’s because you’re biased too. You’re too good of friends with McGill to see the real truth- the real truth that will be revealed after this stupid match is over.”

MATCH RECAP:

1st Minute: Starz and Eagles to start. Tori Loudman jumped up on the ring apron and clapped her hands. Both waste no time in meeting in the middle of the ring. Test of strength by Eagles- he wins and then hits a press slam on Starz. Forearm to Starz’s back. Irish whip to the ropes followed by a belly to back suplex. Starz back up- kick to the gut by Eagles. All Eagles early on.

2nd Minute: Eagles nailed Starz with a right hand. Body slam and then he covered. Starz kicked out at two. Eagles kept Starz on the floor. Then he pulled him up and set for another press slam- this time, Starz slipped out the back door and hot tagged Magnum in. Magnum promptly sent Eagles flying over the top rope to the floor. Magnum rolled out of the ring.

3rd Minute: Magnum dropped an elbow to Eagles on the floor. Eagles whipped into the steel barricade. Kneelift by Magnum. Facebuster on the floor to Eagles and Magnum laid in the boots. But he didn’t see Alabama flying around the corner and gets blindsided. Eventually, both Magnum and Eagles make it back to the ring.

4th Minute:Eagles went top rope and unloaded a right hand that spun Magnum around. He tagged Alabama right in and he immediately gutwrench suplexed Magnum. Starz ran in and tackled Alabama and both rolled out of the ring. Magnum climbed to the top turnbuckle and dived onto Alabama on the floor. Brawling ensued.

5th Minute: More brawling. Both men return to the ring. Alabama hit a bridging suplex and tagged Eagles back in.

Johnny Suave: “So far. So good. The SEC are working well together. No indication of any friction between Alabama and Eagles. Starz and Magnum are also on their game tonight.”

Colleen Crowder: “Again, don’t care. I simply CAN’T WAIT for Rachel Maddow to blow the lid off the underlying corruption inside PCW and to prove to the world that the Les Miserables are getting the benefit of Dawn McGill’s decisions.”

Eagles whipped Magnum into the ropes- boot to the gut on the return. Lock up…Magnum reversed and hit a kneelift. Body slam by Magnum and cover. Eagles kicked out at two.

6th Minute: Starz tagged back in and whipped Eagles into the ropes. Hiptoss by Starz and a cover. Eagles kicked out at two. Waist lock by Starz. Reversal by Eagles. He whipped Starz across the ring into the corner. Big splash by Eagles. He climbed up to the top turnbuckle and dropped a heavy ax handle on Starz. Eagles went suplex and back body drop next and made the cover- Starz kicked out at two.

7th Minute: Alabama tagged back in- hit an elbow drop and armbreaker. DDT by Alabama and cover. Magnum in the ring and made the save. Referee Kevin Barry chased Magnum back out. Alabama set up for a body slam. Starz blocked and back body dropped Alabama- tagged Magnum back in. Alabama took a breather and rolled outside to the floor.

8th Minute:Magnum leaped between the top and bottom rope and speared Alabama on the floor.

Johnny Suave: “HOLY CRAP!”

Colleen Crowder: “*YAWN* Is this over yet?”

Boot to the gut by Magnum. Gutwrench to the floor then Magnum sent Alabama into the steel barricade. He returned to the ring and waited. Phil Finebaum went over to check on Alabama and implore him to get back to the ring. Loudman came over and exchanged a little banter with Finebaum.

9th Minute: Alabama charged in and connected with a right hand. Magnum came back with a boot to the gut. Right hands by Magnum but Alabama nailed him with an European uppercut. Another boot to the gut by Magnum into a backbreaker and then cover. Eagles came in to make the save. Starz in now and he tossed Eagles out of the ring again. Action picking up now.

Colleen Crowder: “Again with the going outside the ring. I think they’re doing this on purpose. Because the longer this match goes, the less time Rachel Maddow will have for her game changing reveal at the end of the show.”

Johnny Suave: “Or- this is a really close and competitive match.”

10th Minute: Back body drop by Magnum and cover. Alabama got the shoulder up at two. He surprised Magnum with a neckbreaker and a flapjack. Alabama made the cover…one…two…Starz made the last second save. Now it’s Magnum. Right hand. Suplex. Alabama raked the eyes and he suplexed Magnum. Cover. Magnum kicked out and tagged Starz back in.

11th Minute:Johnny Suave: “I’d say it’s pretty even at this point. Neither team really has an advantage over the other. Colleen? Your thoughts.”

Colleen Crowder: “This match is taking way too long. The real story is in Rachel Maddow’s hands right now.”

Johnny Suave: “The sad thing Colleen is that you’re missing a great match.”

Colleen Crowder: “Don’t you mansplain to me.”

Johnny Suave: “I’m not mansplaining. I just said you were missing a great match because of your stupid narrative.”

Colleen Crowder: “Don’t you dare try to shut me down, Johnny. I will persist.

Johnny Suave: “Fine. Go persist somewhere else. I’m trying to call a match here.”

Colleen Crowder: “Do you understand? I will per-“

And her microphone went dead. In the background, Colleen asked Johnny if he had her mic turned off.

Johnny Suave: “Yes. And we’ve missed part of the match because of this. Thanks Colleen.”

Colleen began to shout that she was being censored and demanded her microphone be turned back on.

13th Minute: Suave valiantly continued to do the play by play with Colleen screaming in his ear to turn on her mic. Alabama and Eagles are doubleteaming Starz on the outside with fellow SEC stablemates Butch Fullmer and Gator Bates. The American Patriots then sent down Kirk Walstreit and Texas Jack to even the odds. Referee Kevin Barry started a count and both legal men- Starz N. Stripes and Alabama scramble back to the ring.

14th Minute: Face drop by Starz and then a suplex. Starz covered- Alabama kicked out at two. Alabama with a side slam and then hit his finisher- the Alabama Slam. Cover. One…two…NO! Magnum with the save. Eagles in the ring. He tackled Magnum and sent him tumbling out of the ring. Eagles turned to Starz and charged at him. Clothesline…no, Starz ducked and Eagles hit Alabama instead. Starz pushed Eagles over the top rope.

15th Minute:Alabama on the deck. Starz pounced. Slapped on the American Stars and Fujwara Armbar and Alabama can’t reach the ropes. Walstreit, Texas Jack, and Magnum hold back the SEC’s Eagles, Fullmer, and Gates. Phil Finebaum scrambled to the ring apron and climbed into the ring. Suddenly, blonde conservative fireball Tori Loudman jumped up to the top turnbuckle and went airborne- clocking Finebaum with a flying missile drop kick.

16th Minute:Finally, Alabama can’t hold out any further and tapped out. Referee Kevin Barry called for the bell and the tag team champions retain their title.

Kimber Marshall in the ring for the formal announcement.

WINNER AND STILL PCW TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS: Starz N. Stripes and Magnum P.O.’d @ 15:05

Alabama rolled out of the ring and confronted Eagles. He pushed Eagles. Eagles pushed him right back. Alabama hauled off and hit Eagles with a right hand. Eagles tackled Alabama and they began to roll around on the floor.

Johnny Suave: “That’s unfortunate. Alabama and Eagles put up a great fight against the tag team champions and just one mistake at the end cost them the match.”

Feinbaum yelled at both of them to stop fighting. Fullmer and Gates tried to pull both men apart.

Dan Miller- low level reporter at the Washington Post also trying to make a name for himself- sat down and immediately had at it with Suave.

Dan Miller: “You should be ashamed of yourself. You had no right to cut Colleen-

And Miller was cut off. Shouting at Sauve, Miller demanded to know what Suave knew and said Rachel Maddow would reveal what PCW and Dawn McGill was hiding about her relationship with Ray McAvay and how it has unfairly affected the Progressive Alliance.

And on cue, MSNBC’s Rachel Maddow walked to the ring holding up the large manila envelope containing McGill and McAvay’s sealed divorce papers. Colleen Crowder commandeered Kimber Marshall’s microphone and jumped into the ring.

Colleen Crowder: “There’s nothing anyone can do now to keep the truth from coming out about the special treatment of the Les Miserables due to something Ray McAvay has on his ex-wife Dawn McGill.”

Maddow in the ring with the envelope. With great fanfare, she ripped open the sealed envelope and pulled out the divorce agreement. Maddow started reading through the paperwork. Her smile quickly faded.

Colleen Crowder: “What is it? What does it say?”

Maddow continued to read through the divorce agreement.

Colleen Crowder: “Well?”

Maddow looked up at Crowder and mumbled something under her breath.

Colleen Crowder: “What?”

Maddow mumbled something again under her breath.

Now Suave was in the ring.

Johnny Suave: “Let’s hear it.”

Rachel Maddow: “Irreconcilable differences.”

Crowder’s jaw dropped.

Colleen Crowder: “What do you mean?”

Rachel Maddow: “Irreconcilable differences. That’s it.”

Crowder ripped the divorce papers away from Maddow and looked through them. She and Dan Miller pored over the document.

Colleen Crowder: “Where—where is it? There has to be something there. There has to be a smoking gun-“

Boos rained down from the crowd.

Johnny Suave: “And then the narrative doesn’t tell the true story.”

In the Les Miserables section at ringside, Ray McAvay stood up and sarcastically golf clapped as the show came to an end.

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